I looked out into the crowd and there they were in the front row. Claire waving to one of the kids. Beau looking thrilled and Finn looking confused as hell as to what he was doing here.
I felt a rush of gratitude to Ruby for making me realize how important they were. I never should have thought I needed to go it alone.
Then I saw Beau grab his cell phone and look at it, then rush off to take a call. I glowered for a second, but decided not to be pissed about it. The show was starting in five minutes, he had plenty of time to get to his seat.
Then my own phone rang.
Ruby raised her eyebrows at me as I looked down at the caller ID. Private caller. I looked back out into the auditorium and saw that Claire and Finn had left their seats. My mother and father were rushing out the door.
"Something happened," I told Ruby and quickly pressed the answer button before they hung up. "Jonah King?" I answered.
Epilogue, Part Two
Ruby
He went white.
I had never seen anyone actually go white before. But all the color left his face in a rush as he listened to whoever it was on the other line.
The high school orchestra, roped into service at the last minute by Principal Donovan calling in a favor, suddenly blared the opening bars of the overture. Jonah had transcribed Gid's music into a full musical score, and the melody was so familiar now that it felt like part of my DNA. But it was so loud it drowned out Jonah's replies to whoever it was on the line. I heard, "yes." I heard, "How bad?" I heard, "fuck," and then he somehow got even whiter.
Without thinking, I grabbed his arm and steered him away from the sounds of the orchestra and the combined blare of thirty-three kids shouting at the tops of their lungs. "Here," I said, as he still listened to the caller. "Sit down, okay? You look like you're going to pass out."
"Okay," he said into his phone but allowed me to lead him over to the exit stairs. He sat down heavily. "Okay," he repeated and then let his hand fall, the phone tumbling out to bounce on the floor.
"What happened?" I gasped. My heart was in my throat.
"I have to go."
"Okay of course, but what happened? And do you need me with you?
His eyes were darting everywhere, panicked. "That was one of the PAs on set at Gabe's show. There's been an accident."
My fingers leaped to my mouth. The blare of trumpets seemed to mirror the shock that ripped through me. Horrified, I opened my mouth and tried to force the words out. "And Gabe is?
Jonah stood up, no longer frozen. "In the hospital. They don't know anything more." He looked at me. "I have to go."
"Of course you do."
"You need to stay here, right? For the kids?"
I looked down at my left hand. Then I lifted it and pressed it against his chest so that the ring glinted in the low light. I could feel his heart racing under my hand so I spoke as clearly and slowly as I could so he could hear me through his panic. "See this?" I said, pointing. "This means you don't do this alone. This means, I'm coming with you."
He grabbed me in a sudden and fierce embrace. He let out a terrible sigh against my lips, but nodded. "Good," he finally said. "I need you."
"Then let's go."
THE END
Connect with Theresa Leigh
Gabe King is the wrong brother.
I grew up in the shadow of the Kings. My crush on the eldest? So bad I could barely get two words out in his presence.
When he showed up at my door asking for my help, I thought my knees might give out.
Then I found out he needed help with his younger brother.
Gabriel King.
The bad boy. The risk-taker. The total jerk.
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Violent Hearts
Linnea May
Prologue
Jared
What a fucking mess.
I release a frustrated sigh before crumpling up the piece of paper and throwing it away from me. My eyes don't even follow as it lazily dances across the tiles of my bathroom floor. Instead, I divert my attention to the flute waiting on the edge of the bath tub. It's filled to the brim with sparkling gold liquid, a sure promise for calming my nerves and helping to rid my mind of her haunting voice when I bring it up to my lips.
I can't forget about you. You've touched my heart in a way no man ever has before. I'm yours, all of me, forever.
If you'll just have me.
Fucking pathetic.
I've heard those words before, and each time my reaction has been the same. Her letter aims to reach a part of me that simply doesn't exist. An average human heart. A heart that's capable of love, or even a heart that needs it.
She's committed the same mistake that that every single one of my former submissives have made before her, absolute confirmation that she's not suitable for the role. This girl, E, broke the cardinal rule by falling for me. She calls it love, and was dumb enough to believe the feeling was mutual; she misinterpreted my attention as an attraction that wasn't there.
I could see it in her eyes when I fucked her, written all over her face when she went down on her knees in front of me, and in that faint smile flittering across her face when I called her a good girl. I even tasted it in her kisses. E was growing attached to me more and more with every moment we spent together, despite my regular reminders about the terms of the contract she signed to become mine. I've done unspeakable things to her, some of them with the sole intention of proving to her that she serves a function for me and does not hold a special place in my stone-cold heart.
One of these things is playing out vividly in front of my eyes right now, captured on screen for my viewing pleasure.
The bubbles tickle my lips as I sip on the champagne, my eyes glued to the big screen positioned on the wall above my hot tub. I’m watching footage of myself fucking E while she's taking another man’s cock between her painted lips. She looks like she’s enjoying herself, but with these girls, you never know. They're paid to perform an act, so it might all be fake. It's a passion of mine to expose them like this, to share them, to have them fucked by other guys, all while I'm the one in command. Even with the other guy’s cock plunged deep down her throat, I can see her eyes returning to me again and again, seeking my approval, appreciation, praise.
Love.
Her cheeks are flushed and her moans sound real, but she's primarily doing this for me, her master. Her owner.
If only she'd been able to keep it that way. But E, like so many before her, was too weak. One night after finishing an intense session, I was ready to leave and head to my own bedroom, when she grabbed my wrist.