Then I hold her until the fight is gone. I hold her until she shudders against me, squeezing her tight until it finally hits methat I could’ve lost heragain. We’re on the second floor. A fall shouldn’t kill her, but she could’ve been hurt, and that hurtsmealmost as much as knowing she’s that desperate to get away from me.
I can’t let her go. Ican’t. But now that I know she’d rather take that swan dive after all, she’s left me with no choice. She’ll run out the front door. She’ll climb off of the balcony if I let her… and that just means that there’s no way I can let her.
I don’t drug her again; at least, not with the pharmaceutical grade injectables that I’ve been taking. I’m too worried what sort of side effects might happen if I sedate her more often than I should. I do, however, crush up an allergy pill that’s known to make someone drowsy, and lace the glass of water I bring her when she stubbornly refuses to join me in the kitchen for a meal.
She’s wary of the food I also bring up. To be fair, she should be. I went simple. A plate of pasta with jarred sauce because it’s a staple in Haven’s pantry. I gave her buttered bread, too, swallowing my smile when she bites into it with a scowl as though she has a love-hate relationship with such a carb-heavy meal.
Haven has always looked perfect to me. From her pretty brown hair to her striking grey eyes, the freckles over her nose, and her lean body… she’s stunningly gorgeous even covered in scrapes and fading bruises. Still, she’s an Offering. I’ve lived in Harmony Heights long enough to understand the expectations set for the future brides of the Owed, and staying as small as possible is one of them.
Not my girl. Not my wife. Her looks have always been a bonus to me, but it was her loyal side, her kind heart, and how strong she was despite Offerings being raised to befragile…that’s what stole my attention and kept it all those years ago.
I’ve been her captive since I was a boy. The way I see it, it’s only fair that she’s nowmine.
And though she treats the dinner she pokes at like it might be drugged, it’s the water she drinks without any issue. Within an hour, she’s curled up on the bed, fast asleep, snoring so adorably, I’m torn between wanting to snuggle next to her and heading to the bathroom so I can rub one out real quick.
I’m fucked up. I know I am. I’m notthatfucked, though, that I’ll use Haven that way without her knowing. Hey. I’ve made it all these years, wondering what it’s like to work my cock inside of her heat or have her hands on my dick, and no matter how long it takes until my wife invites me to consummate our new union, I’ll continue to wait.
But that doesn’t mean that, after I heft her up in my arms and relocate her to the panic room in the basement, I don’t join her in the bed for a while, simply enjoying having her that close before my aching balls force me to leave the basement, purposely locking the door behind me.
Because… yeah. That’s exactly what I do.
And that’s when I strip down to nothing, hop in the shower, and stroke my cock until I’m panting her name, my come circling down the drain with the shower spray all while I’m finally sure that there’s no way she can break free of me again.
ELEVEN
TRAPPED
HAVEN
It happened again. I fell asleep in one place, and when I finally wake up, I have no fucking idea where I am.
It’s another bed. Another room. The walls are dark. A rich, deep brown color that absorbs the yellow light from the only source of it in the room: a swinging lamp—all bulb, no shade—that’s hanging over my head. There’s no window. It takes me a moment to notice there’s even a door. It’s painted the same color as the walls, and if the light didn’t bounce off the dark metal knob, I don’t know if I would’ve seen it at all.
The bed has dark sheets, too. Two pillows and a wrought iron headboard.
That’s it. That’s all that’s in here—except for me. I’m in here, too, and it doesn’t take a stable genius to figure out how I got down here.
My first instinct is to make sure I’m still dressed. Every time I woke up in my cell, I was terrified that I’d come to naked, feeling achy between my legs. Thankfully, that’s one indignity that never happened—though I’m too bitter to be the teeniest bitgrateful that Winter reined in his rabid guard dogs that much—but I have no idea what to expect from Connor Heyward.
I thought I knew him. The Order of the Owed is close-knit enough that the members all know each other, and their dirty laundry, too. Connor is a jokester. A flirt. A smart ass. He doesn’t take life seriously, and until he’s thirty and the King reminds him that he’ll lose all of his privileges if he doesn’t take an arranged bride, I had thought he’d never change.
I was wrong.
Who is this man? I don’t know him. Telling me he loves me. Chasing me out of the house. Constantly trying to feed me… constantlydruggingme… I will admit that I always suspected that Connor had a dark side.
I’ve been completely blind-sided by just howinsanehe is.
Even worse, I still believe that I must be because why else would I be the tiniest bit flattered that, after all these years, he’s finally decided to act on the flippant promise he made when he was an eighteen-year-old boy?
No. No, Haven. Don’t be flattered. Be fuckinghorrified. So he saved me. That doesn’t give him the right to keep me here. He’s not a doctor. Definitely not a nurse, even if he’s decided to assign that role to himself. He’s just nuts, and to make it all worse, Adrian Heller is as fucking useless as ever.
He stood there and let Loni leave us, never making a move to apologize or to stand up for her. He let all of Harmony Heights believe that he had nothing to do with her when Iknowhe’d been sleeping with her for most of senior year. He let her take the fall for it, and I lost my best friend because of it. Then his indifference toward our ‘engagement’ over the years left me untouchable. No one even wanted to be my friend because I was supposedly Adrian’s, let alone a lover that could stand up to the Order and ask me to marry them, Offering or not.
Now, on top of all that, he had the absolute fucking gall to show up at Connor’s house, and since the Heirs are close after all these years, he obviously knows I’m here. He’s probably also aware that having him this close panicked me enough to have me racing out the back door when I first heard his voice. Connor, I could handle. Adrian? It was either run or lash out at him, and I chose to go… only Connor caught me. He caught me, and Adrian left me here, and if that’s not proof that I’ve already got my one rescue, nothing is.
This has got to be another room in Connor’s house. Breathing in deep, trying to control my racing heart, I shudder. It smells like Connor. Like the mild cologne he always wears.
Like he’s slept down here before, too...
