Текст книги "Vicious secrets"

Автор книги: Morgan Bridges

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter 42DELILAH

Brenda turns and walks away, dragging her feet as though heading toward an execution. Maybe she is. The recruits weren’t allowed to kill each other in the Bride Hunt, but what restrictions do they have with us?

Her departure does little to ease the tight knot of anxiety in my stomach. I shut the door and lean on it with my eyes closed, attempting to draw deep breaths to steady my nerves. Feelings of helplessness wash over me.

What the fuck am I supposed to do about this? Can I do anything?

Being in this vulnerable position as Xavier’s bride has my emotions shifting from uncertainty to a simmering anger. The more I reflect on the situation, the more righteous indignation heats me all over.

I pace the room, muttering to myself. I don’t deserve this shit. If Ben were my recruit, he’d treat me with respect and kindness. Xavier, on the other hand, is a huge risk.

If I thought aligning myself with him would provide me with a semblance of safety, I was mistaken. Our relationship is a minefield, leaving me to navigate it while constantly worried that the next move could be my last. Meanwhile, Xavier strolls merrily through this situation without a care in the world.

The realization halts my steps. And has me raging. If Xavier thinks he can do whatever he wants while I sit and wait for him to dictate my life, he’s in for a surprise. I refuse to be a trophy. Or worse, a tool in his game of power, easily traded or discarded.

I retrieve my phone from my pocket. My fingers hover over the screen, my body humming with bitterness. I need to feel like I’m not alone, like someone gives a shit about me and isn’t willing to toss me aside.

After selecting Ben’s name, I type out a quick text asking him to hang out. My hands grow sweaty while I wait for his response. My foster brother might’ve said I was the most important person in his life, but right now, I want him to prove it.

My phone buzzes, and I open the text with trembling fingers. Relief washes over me when I read that Ben is heading over. Leaving Xavier’s room against his wishes is a small step in my plans for rebellion, but any effort to regain control over my life comforts me.

Minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. I check the monitor before opening the door to find Ben leaning against the wall. His presence, familiar and welcoming, immediately puts me at ease.

“I thought you were pissed at me,” he says. He smiles, a genuine expression that reaches his eyes, making them bright with affection. For me. “But I’m glad you texted.”

“I realized that I’m angry about this entire situation. But it feels wrong to be mad at you.”

“It’s so good to hear you say that, Lilah. Ready?” He offers me his arm in a gesture that’s full of camaraderie, rather than authority. “I think it’s time for me to introduce you to the world of video games.”

I grin and weave my arm through his, allowing myself to be led away from a room that’s more of a prison cell than a sanctuary.

When we reach Ben’s dorm room, I find it similar to Xavier’s in appearance, but the vibe is completely different. Ben has his stuff everywhere. One look, and you can get a feel for who he is as a person, even down to the candy bar wrappers lying right next to the trash can.

“So you're a slob now?” I ask with a smirk.

He chuckles. “I guess so. We didn’t have enough money for junk food, so I didn’t know I sucked at picking up trash until I had the means.”

I duck my head, not wanting him to feel my disconnect. I might be part of this university and the Order in a way, but I don’t have the finances that comes with it. It’s one of the reasons I’m a bride to begin with.

“You want something to drink?” he asks.

“Sure. It’d be nice to have something besides coffee for once.”

Ben walks over to a mini-fridge, grabs a soda, and hands it to me. I take it with a smile and settle on the edge of his mattress. “Can I ask you something?”

He frowns. “You know you can ask me anything.”

I trace the rim of the can, staring down at it to avoid Ben’s stare. “Can a recruit trade one bride for another?”

“Why are you asking me that?”

“Just answer the question,” I snap. Belatedly realizing the severity of my tone, I lift my head, my gaze full of remorse. “I’m sorry. I just really need to know, Ben.”

His expression turns serious. He takes a moment before responding, which only sets me on edge all the more. By the time he finally speaks, I’m ready to strangle him or cry.

“It has to be agreed on by both recruits, not just one,” he says. “It’s not encouraged. A bride is acquired through skill, so trading her would be an insult to yourself. It’s saying you weren’t good enough to get the bride of your choice.”

I nod, barely perceptible, fear paralyzing me. Xavier does the have the right to trade me. From the way he acted during the Bride Hunt, I could assume he wants to keep me, but that’s not good enough. I’d be trusting a stranger with more than my safety.

I’d have to trust Xavier with my life.

Ben sits next to me, the mattress dipping under his weight. He wraps an arm around me, and I lean into his side, soaking up his presence. “Does this have something to do with X?”

I shrug. “Sort of. Brenda, Eric’s bride, stopped by Xavier’s room earlier looking for his help.”

“She’s a drug addict.” A thread of disgust is woven underneath Ben’s tone. “I’m not sure if she was one before she got with Eric, but I know she was definitely one afterward.”

“Addict or not, the bruises on her body didn’t look self-inflicted, Ben. She wants to get away from Eric and become Xavier’s bride.”

My words are statements of fact, nothing more, but as they sweep past my ears, my blood heats in my veins. The prospect of Xavier giving me away or replacing me with Brenda doesn’t upset me only because I want to avoid abuse. It’s also about the feelings of rejection stirring within me.

Fucked up or not, during the Bride Hunt, I was someone’s first choice.

For the first time in my life, I felt wanted. Valued.

It’s not that I love Xavier. Our relationship, if it can even be called that, is built on ceremony and tradition. So why does the prospect of him replacing me with another woman evoke jealousy and other petty emotions?

Xavier made me feel seen. I don’t want to be invisible again.

Ben sighs and hugs me tighter. “Delilah, you’re not thinking clearly. X is a lot of things, but he’s not someone who changes his mind. He wanted you to be his bride. I don’t know why, but he did.”

I pull back and frown at him. “That’s not encouraging.”

“I just meant that there’s always a hidden agenda with the recruits.” Ben runs a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean he shouldn’t have picked you. Anyone would be happy to have you as their bride. Hell, most of them don’t deserve you.”

“Being a bride isn’t a privilege. It’s a prison.”

He goes taut beside me. “I’m going to get you out of it. You’ll see.”

“I hope so.”

“Until then, it’s better that you’re with X.”

I make a face at Ben. “He’s a fuckhole.”

“A what?” My foster brother laughs, the tension dissipating from his body. “You come up with the weirdest shit. Like I was saying, yes, Xavier’s an asshole, but he won’t physically hurt you.” Ben pauses, his gaze gleaming with emotion. “If he does, I’ll kill him.”

I bump his shoulder with mine. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

“Always. You’d do the same for me.”

“Always,” I say.

“Now that we’re done with the mushy shit, how about I beat your ass in this video game?”

I glare up at him with a grin. “Bring it on, bitch nuts.”

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Chapter 43XAVIER

Declan: You might want to hurry the fuck up and get back here.

Xavier: Is Delilah hurt?

Declan: No, but she’s in trouble.

Xavier: What kind of trouble?

Declan: The kind that’ll have you killing someone.

Xavier: Why didn’t you stop her?

Declan: Have you met her? That woman is a pain in the ass. You should’ve disclosed that crucial bit of information before you dumped her on me.

Xavier: Watch your fucking mouth when you talk about her.

Declan: My bad. Maybe if you give me permission to hogtie her, I can get her to behave. Even then, it might be too late.

Xavier: Wherever she is, get her the fuck out of there.

Declan: Dude, Ben is the face of a tech empire and his system security is top-notch. How in the fuck am I supposed to get her out of his room? You know it’s basically a vault.

Xavier: I’m taking this really fucking personally. I trusted you to look after my bride, and you didn’t. Now, you’re interrupting me in the middle of my summons to tell me that the reason you texted me can’t be resolved?

Declan: Yeah, pretty much.

Xavier: You know those organs you traffic? Well, you might want to check your supply because I’m going to fucking shoot you when I get back.

Declan: Love you too.

Ishove my phone in my pocket and pick up my plastic gloves, covered in blood. The Broker whimpers when he sees me put them back on, his eyes bulging from his skull.

“Here’s the thing,” I say. “My girl is back home, getting into all sorts of trouble. Which means I need to speed up this interrogation so I can get back to her.”

I grab the angle grinder and turn it on. The blade whirls, a high-pitched sound that blends in with the man’s cries. He jerks back, rattling the chains keeping him suspended in the air. The hook in his back digs deeper, and he screams.

“The faster you talk, the faster I’ll put you out of your misery,” I say. “A merciful death is something Edward Donovan would never offer you. Trust me, I think he’s a bigger dick than you do.”

“Then why are you doing this?” he sobs.

“Because my loyalty is to a woman, one that’s driving me fucking crazy. And if you don’t tell me what I need to know, you’ll be keeping me from her. Trust me, you don’t want to do that.”

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Chapter 44DELILAH

Xavier: When I get home, you and I are going to have a chat about obedience, little raptor.

Delilah: I haven’t done anything wrong. How did you have a chance to program your info into my phone?

Xavier: I’ve done far worse.

Delilah: Why does that not surprise me?

Xavier: Who are you with?

Delilah: None of your business.

Xavier: Answer the fucking question.

Xavier: Delilah Scott, I asked you a question.

Delilah: I’m with Ben.

Xavier: Where are you?

Delilah: In his room at the fraternity.

Xavier: Fucking Christ.

Delilah: We’re just hanging out. I already told you it’s not like that.

Xavier: And I already told you, Benjamin wants to fuck you. If he touches you, I’ll kill him, and it’ll be your fault.

Delilah: Are you serious?

Xavier: Does it sound like I’m fucking around?

Delilah: I swear if you do anything to him...

Xavier: You’ll what, Delilah?

Delilah: 🖕😑🖕

Xavier: I'll give you a moment to enjoy that, but when I get back, you’re going to learn exactly what happens when you don’t listen to me.

Delilah: Can’t fucking wait.

Alcohol is my new best friend.

My blood hums merrily underneath my skin as Ben walks me back to Xavier’s room. I cling to his arm after nearly tripping, and my foster brother exhales.

“You’re worse than a lightweight, Lilah.”

My hazy vision makes everything slightly off-kilter, like I’m in a hall of mirrors where every image is distorted. But it’s amusing, not disconcerting. I think I like being drunk.

Ben scoffs. “You might like the way you feel right now, but in the morning, you’re going to hate yourself. And me.”

I blink up at him. “Are you a mind reader now?”

“No, you’re mumbling to yourself.”

“Ohhh. That makes sense.”

“You’re going straight to bed,” he says.

“Why can’t I stay with you?”

Ben shakes his head emphatically, the movement making my head spin. “X would fucking kill me if you slept in my room,” he says. “I already know he’s going to be pissed when he finds out that you’re drunk, but I’m not stupid enough to push him off the edge.”

“He doesn’t care about me. Not really.” I wave a hand. “He just sees me as his property.”

“It seems that way, but I saw him watching you like⁠—”

At Ben’s abrupt silence, I look up at him and tap his arm. “Like what?”

My foster brother inhales deeply before blowing it back out. “He looks at you like he’ll die without you.”

I burst out laughing, the sound bouncing off the walls. The alcohol swirling in my veins only adds to my hilarity and my disbelief.

“That’s ridiculous,” I say. “Have you met Xavier? He has no fucks to give and doesn’t need anyone. Maybe you’re the one who’s drunk.”

When Ben doesn’t laugh, or even crack a smile, my amusement dies. Instead, his expression hardens, seriousness etched into his features.

“I’m not joking,” he says. “You might not see it, but I’ve known him a lot longer, and there’s something going on with him when it comes to you.”

“I’ve known him lo⁠—”

By some miracle, I slap a hand on my mouth, muffling my drunken confession. I never told Ben that Xavier killed Frank all those years ago. And I definitely didn’t disclose the fact that I had a brief conversation with Xavier—after stabbing him.

At first I kept that information a secret because I was freaked out and needed time to process everything, but as the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months, I couldn’t find the courage. If I’m honest with myself, it wasn’t only that.

Xavier made me feel important.

Ben threatened to kill for me, but Xavier actually fucking did.

“What were you going to say?” Ben asks me.

I let my hand fall away. “I can’t remember. I thought I was going to puke. Are we there yet?”

He smiles at me and shakes his head. “You act like we’re hiking Mount Everest.”

“Feels like it.”

Ben stops in front of a door that I assume is Xavier’s. I stare at it blankly. My foster brother takes my wrist and flattens my palm against the panel, and the door unlocks with a click.

“That shit is so cool,” I say.

“My tech empire had a hand in designing it.”

I look up at Ben and smile at the pride in his voice. “That’s a-maz-za-zing.”

He groans. “I don’t know if I should leave you alone.”

“I’m fine. I’m just busting your balls.”

“Okay then. Go inside.” He juts his chin at the doorway. “Promise me you won’t open the door for anyone. You’re protected under your bride title, but that doesn’t mean one of these fuckers won’t try something with Xavier gone. If he’s not back by the morning, I’ll come get you.”

“I promise I won’t open the door. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Turning toward the room, I walk inside, letting the door lock behind me. Ben’s words repeat themselves in my mind, a riddle that makes my head pound more than the alcohol. Xavier looks at me like he’ll die without me?

Yeah, right. What do I have that he can’t get from any other woman? Especially with someone like Brenda actively wanting him?

The buzz from before lessens significantly after I chug a lot of water. Then I collapse on the bed and stare at the ceiling until my thoughts quiet. The room doesn’t spin as much anymore, and I sigh in relief.

A knock on the door a few minutes later has me stumbling across the room. I squint at the monitor, trying to make out the image that looks like Ben wearing a hoodie. He must’ve changed his mind about leaving me alone in my drunken state.

I swing open the door. “Ben, you don’t have to worry about⁠—”

The word dies in my throat when Eric’s malicious gaze meets mine. His presence sends a jolt through my body, instantly sobering me. I go to slam the door in his face, and he reacts faster than my eyes can follow.

The man has his hand clamped around my upper arm and yanks me to him, causing me to grunt in pain from his fingers digging into my skin. I stumble before he slams my back against the wall, his face inches from mine, his eyes glittering with something that has my adrenaline spiking.

Panic claws at my throat, but I push past it. “Get the fuck off of me.”

“Not until you deliver a message for me.”

I swallow the insult gathered on my tongue. “What is it?”

“Tell that cunt Xavier that I’m coming for him. Let him know that I’m going to take everything, starting with his bride and ending with his empire.”

“Why don’t you tell him yourself? I don’t give a fuck about any of this shit, so leave me out of it.”

“I can see why he wanted you,” Eric says. He slowly runs his gaze over me, his pupils contracting. My stomach churns. “You’re entertaining, even if you are a mouthy bitch.”

I shrug. “Thanks. ‘Mouthy bitch’ pretty much sums up my personality.”

Eric grabs my neck. My breathing turns into wheezing, but I force myself to remain still. He won’t kill me because he has a purpose for me, to deliver a message to Xavier. My body doesn’t understand and trembles with the need to defend myself.

He smirks, most likely assuming I’m shaking from fear instead of rage. “Maybe I should take you now.”

“If you do, I can guarantee that I won’t deliver your message because I’ll be too fucking busy trying to kill you.”

“So delusional, but amusing.” Eric tilts his head. “If he doesn’t get tired of you first, I’m going to enjoy taking you from him, knowing you’ll fight me either way.”

His arrogance, along with the idea of him raping me, fuels my rage. I hold his gaze to avoid revealing my intentions, and smile. The second his brows snap together in confusion, I raise my knee, aiming for his groin.

Eric grunts, and his grip on my neck loosens. Taking advantage of his momentary shock, I swing my elbow to his chest with all my strength. He staggers back, and I spin toward the doorway.

With my heart pounding in my ears, I slam the door behind me, pressing my spine to the wood. My chest heaves with breaths and spots dance before my eyes. I slide down to the floor as my vision blurs.

I lose track of time and sit there, gasping for air. The lingering taste of fear is sharp on my tongue and my instincts still scream for me to hide, to get away from this place entirely. Tremors snake through my body until nausea rises.

After racing to the bathroom, I vomit. Not only due to the alcohol consumption, but also because of the violent images running through my mind. Having Eric touch me was vastly different than when Xavier grabbed my neck in the woods during the Bride Hunt.

I thought that my arousal was because of adrenaline and heightened senses, but after tonight’s near miss, I know that’s not the reason. I’m disgusted by Eric and attracted to Xavier. Two men, same circumstances, with two separate reactions from me.

This entire time, I’ve wanted to blame Xavier for forcing sexual responses from me, making my body crave him in a way it’s never done before. But now I know it’s not his fault.

It’s mine.

But that’s a problem for sober Delilah.

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Chapter 45XAVIER

The instant the notification pings on my phone, my intuition flares with warning.

Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, I glance down at the screen, my heart rate accelerating along with the speed of the vehicle. The security system indicates movement outside my dorm room. A second alert quickly follows, telling me someone has opened the door.

I tap into the live feed with dread coating my skin like gasoline, ready to ignite any second. Delilah opens the door to a hooded figure on the other side. From this angle, I can’t make out their identity… until the man pins her against the wall.

The camera lens provides a clear picture of Eric Gage with his hands on my girl. Rage turns my blood to fire, burning me alive from the inside. I’m not sure which is stronger: my desire to kill him or my need to protect her.

“Motherfucker!” My shout isn’t louder than the roar of the engine as I push the vehicle to its maximum speed. Even then, it won’t be fast enough.

The violent scene unfolds before my eyes like a horror film. The steering wheel creaks under the pressure of my grip as I imagine squeezing the life from Gage when he grabs Delilah’s throat. In the blink of an eye, he could snap her neck.

And my entire world would burn to ash.

The mere thought of her dying is like a physical blow. The SUV’s movements reflect my internal agony, veering too far to the right before I straighten the vehicle. My hands shake uncontrollably, a manifestation of an emotion I’ve only experienced a few times in my life.

Fear.

I was afraid the first time my father struck me, as well as the first time he stabbed me. I was frightened when he took a whip to my flesh and when he put a bullet in my thigh. But all of that was because I didn’t know the level of pain to come. It was conceivable, but not confirmed yet.

If Delilah were to be killed, I can’t even comprehend the level of devastation it would bring.

I’m going to fucking kill Gage, no matter the outcome of tonight’s altercation. I’m going to torture him to the fullest extent, crush his empire, and then when I’m certain he’s suffered, I’ll end his life.

Although his suffering won’t be a fraction of the agony he’s dredged up with just the mere thought of Delilah’s life in danger.

Fury, hot and unyielding, courses through every fiber of my being as I watch Eric engage Delilah in conversation. What the fuck is he saying to her? Is he taunting her with the intent to kill her, or is he merely toying with her to fuck with me?

It’s working.

I’ve never been religious or given a thought to a supernatural deity, but in that moment, I pray to every god I can think of to protect Delilah until I can do it myself. Either the universe hears my pathetic attempts at prayer, or fate decides to smile on me for once instead of fucking me over like usual.

Delilah knees Eric in the balls and slams her elbow in his gut, forcing him to let go of her. I hold my breath until my lungs scream as I watch her scurry back inside my room and shut the door behind her.

I release a shaky breath, my entire body fucking trembling in relief at the close call. The tremors wrack my body to the point I lose control of my grip on the wheel, and I nearly go off the road. Again.

This girl is going to wreck me in every way possible.

Dual emotions collide inside me, a fusion of pride in her ferocity and a seething wrath aimed at Eric for thinking he could touch what belongs to me. And Delilah is mine.

I’m going to have to make that clearer.

To my enemies.

To my bride.

To the world.

The duration of the drive back to the university is the cruelest torture, each second away from Delilah adding to this bomb inside me that’s ready to explode.

I constantly flick my gaze to the live feed of her in my room. Eventually, she makes her way to the bed and falls asleep. Even then, the need for violence, this level of intensity doesn’t decrease. Only until I see her with my eyes and touch her with my hands and fuck her with my cock will I finally be able to think properly.

By the time I park the SUV in the garage, the sun is rising above the horizon. The urgency to see Delilah overrides any lethargy that threatens to slow me down. I don’t need sleep.

I need her.

Although, I’m still fucking pissed at my girl. She’s going to learn some things today…

My feelings for Delilah have transcended any pretense of mere possession. She’s etched herself into the very marrow of my bones, imprinted herself on my heart so that it beats for her. It lives for her.

When I finally reach the door, my turmoil reaches its peak. Until I step inside the dark room and my gaze lands on Delilah sleeping peacefully in my bed. After that, the agony dissipates.

I have no idea how long I stand there, simply watching the rise and fall of her chest, my eyes glued to the movement while my brain tries to reassure me she’s alive. The need to touch her only grows until I’m crossing the room to feel the warmth of her skin.

After slowly lowering myself to the edge of the bed, I trace the contours of her face with my gaze, then with my fingers. I follow the curve of her lips, the angles of her cheeks, and the sweep of her jaw. She is perfection in human form.

This woman lies there in the peacefulness of repose, a stark contrast to the chaos roiling inside me. Leaning closer, so close that my breath stirs the hair at her temple, I whisper into the quiet, my words a truth I’ve never wanted to admit.

“A raptor is a fierce and formidable bird of prey, and the crow’s natural enemy. When a crow strays from its flock, that’s when it’s most vulnerable, when it exposes itself to the danger of the raptor’s lethal presence.

“You’ve ruined me, Delilah. In this world of deception and power, where I’ve lived among a murder of crows, you have become the one person capable of breaking through my defenses. You’ve made me vulnerable, isolated me from the safety of the Order and from the founding families. You are my greatest weakness.”

I pause and run my fingers through her hair, watching her eyelids flutter in deep sleep. “You’re also my greatest strength.”

As I sit there with my confession lingering in the atmosphere, I watch Delilah breathe steadily, recalling the first time I met her. And how I commemorated it by getting a tattoo, a testament to the profound impact she had on me.

Above the scar she gave me from the stab wound is a hawk, a bird of prey that represents her. Not only for its strength and intelligence, but also to remind me that I’m weak for her. The scar marks our beginning and also serves as a tree branch for the hawk, a foundation for the very thing that makes me vulnerable. Like that tree, I will shield her and be her safety.

She’s marked me in ways far deeper and more permanent than any tattoo could ever convey.

“Sleep as long as you can. When you wake up, you’re going to want to unleash your claws and fight me, but only one of us will win.”

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