I shake my head, covering my ears. “Stop lying, stop lying.”
He grabs my wrists, holding them prisoner, his eyes fixed on me. There is nowhere else to look as I stare into blackness that seems endless, feeling like Alice in Wonderland when she’s just about to fall down the rabbit hole.
“Jack is dead. He died three weeks ago.” I frown at his words, not registering what he’s saying, yet I seem to soak them up like a sponge. “He needs a funeral.”
18
Prince
Beauty, you’re lost in the darkness, but you are not alone. I’m coming for you. I will always find you. I see your unshed tears, hear your silent screams. Grief has you held prisoner, but he doesn’t know you’re mine.
19
Lilliana
As I walk down the stairs, I feel a change in my body. Everything that had been asleep has now woken. The numbness has left and been replaced with fury. I feel my lips curl into a sneer at the fancy, decorated hall. All its poised beauty… it makes my stomach turn. The beauty is an illusion. It should be gloomy and bleak, covered in a grim, stained crimson as a reminder of those who lost their blood and lives to the Kingston name.
I hear the smash and smile at the cracked mirror, the shattered pieces falling at my feet. Blood, dripping from my knuckles, lands on them, gleaming like the most expensive gems. Something bursts through me, a shot of something that sends every nerve ending alight, burning bright. I grab the vase, smashing it on the floor, the red roses exploding when they hit the marble tiles. The delicate petals flutter around, and the water trickles like a small ruby river. Beautiful.
Glass, blood, roses, thorns, rivers of ruby. It all clashes together, spills on the floor. Beauty, pain, love, tragedy. All of them opposites and yet they belong.
“Lilliana.” His voice is like a whip across my skin. I look up at the man who is my owner. My own lethal poison.
I sneer at him. “This is your fault.” The words bubble out, and I hate them, want them to stop, but I can’t make them. Seven years of emotions tear free from me.
“Hayden, Jack… you took them away! He was your best friend!” My body shakes with anger as his features grow severe, the way they always do when I mention Hayden’s name. “Hayden! Hayden!” I scream, knowing I’m pushing his red button. But I don't hesitate. I keep pressing it, watching for his reaction.
“Say it,” he speaks in a low voice, filled with warning. Danger surrounds us, circling. He smirks when I don’t reply, but my anger rises to match his.
“You’re just like your father. You became everything you hate! You’re a coward.” My voice is unrecognizable. It doesn’t shake, and there is no fear. Each word is low, steady. I want him to hear every single one, want him to feel their strikes.
My breath leaves me as my back gets slammed against the wall, his hand at my throat, stroking my skin as if petting me predatorily. The blaze burning inside of me turns into something else. Desire.
I hate the way my body wants him—no, craves him, is addicted to him. A burning desire slides into my veins as if I’ve just taken a hit. I start to laugh. “I’m no better than Jack; both of us addicted to things that will kill us.”
Malachi's eyes widen before he grabs my chin. “You’re nothing like Jack.”
I shake my head. “We were both owned by your family, now we’ll both die at your hands.”
He licks up my neck, his tongue dragging over my beating pulse, across my jaw to my lip. He drags my bottom lip between his teeth. “You are not going to die, Lilliana. No one is taking you away. You belong to me.”
The pain causes me to moan, my body to coil tight as it wars with itself; to bring him close or push him away. His eyes grow heavy, his breathing matching mine, both our emotions too close to the surface to hide. We watch each other, knowing there is an invisible countdown. An explosion is coming and there is nothing we can do to stop it.
I don't know who moves first, or if, like magnets, we connect, mouths hungry, hands gripping at each other, nails, teeth, all of it. Branding, anger, claiming and hatred clash over us like the waves of a rough sea. We crash to the floor, the cold and the pain of it making my body bow, bringing me closer to him. He grabs my hips, fingers digging into me, before I’m lifted into the air.
“Legs around me.” They wrap around tightly in a natural response as he takes large strides toward the dining room, where he places me on the table. Laying me out for him, at his mercy.
His eyes widen, turning deeper, lashes fluttering as his nostrils flare. He takes me in as if I’m spread out for him, a feast he can't wait to devour. His fingers trace my collarbone, down between my breasts, down my stomach, making me wriggle for him to stop and never stop. I’m lost in a world of emotion as I feel his grip on me tighten. Heat flashes in his eyes, and his lips part as he looks down at me, loving the sight of me twisting beneath his intense stare. His large hand drags up my skin, goose-bumps following his path as he cups my breast, squeezing, watching my face for every reaction before moving to the other one.
This time is different. He's not rushed. His touches are a slow caress, as if he has all the time in the world and he intends on using it on me, mapping my body with his touch, his eyes memorizing the landscape, each curve, dip, freckle and scar.
“Please.” I squeeze my eyes shut at the gentleness of it, the vulnerability. A tear falls, which his lips catch. “Please,” I beg, for what I’m not sure. But he seems to know. He always knows.
He enters me slowly, allowing me to feel him inch by inch, his hands, his lips, his cock, until his mouth is fucking me the same way his dick is.
It’s too much. It’s not enough.
My stomach quivers as my head falls back, my mouth parting on a silent scream. I let go of it all, of everything, close my mind off to everything other than the pleasure coursing through me, taking over me, like waves crashing onto the shore. Each one of his thrusts steals my breath, until he consumes me.
I am truly his.
20
Lilliana
I look at my reflection in the tinted window, the purple circles under my eyes, the paleness of my skin, my dove eyes a stormy grey. The woman I know has changed forever. I am no longer recognisable, drenched in treachery, to Hayden, Jack.
The little girl that held on to hope, that loved with her whole heart, is gone forever.
I am on the way to bury Jack. Last night, I slept with the man who might be wearing his blood on his hands. The same hands that brought pleasure to my body. I know I should have asked him the questions that are on the tip of my tongue—did he kill Hayden, Jack? —but the truth is stopping me. If Malachi confesses his sins, I know that will be a truth I cannot bear.
I’m the definition of screwed up.
I crave the man who is draped in darkness, who wears danger like a lethal aftershave. I’ve given him my body over and over. Loved him. Hated him. Walked the thin line between, until the lines blurred, and I no longer knew the difference. He found me in the dark, and instead of bringing me into the light, he took me down further, lost in a maze of his forbidden touches and dark desire.