Page 69 of Mercy & Malice

Fuck. I’m losing the little restraint I have, but I know she will regret this. Especially when she learns the whole truth. The pain she feels now that she’s trying to suppress won’t even compare. She’ll hate me and regret every second she allowed me to touch her.

“Wait.” I take in a strangled breath, trying to put some distance between us. My dick is so hard, it aches, begging for relief. I’m surely going to blow my load before it ever gets inside her.

The hurt on her face breaks me a little more as she asks, “Are you serious? You really don’t want this, do you? You don’t want me.” She grabs her T-shirt and climbs off me.

Before she can get too far away, I clasp her neck and pull her mouth back to mine, but she doesn’t kiss me back.

She shoves against my chest as she says, “No. Don’t touch me. I don’t want this either. It’s fine. I won’t force myself on you again. I’m sure Cain or some other guy will be happy to deflower me eventually. And I won’t have to guilt them into doing it.”

The thought of another motherfucker touching her sends a searing fury through me as I grit out, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Her eyes search mine as a tear trails down her cheek. “So, you don’t want me, but no one else can have me either. Great logic, Micah. But it’s not up to you. It’s my decision. And I want it to be my choice before it’s taken away when I’m put in a cage and forced to fuck someone and lose my virginity for their sick game.”

My stomach twists as I understand what she fears. “Is that why you’re in such a hurry to lose your virginity? In case they come back and force you to have sex? Do you really think that will make it any better? Besides, they will never touch you again. No one will ever again without your consent. I swear it.”

“You can’t guarantee that,” she utters. “Maybe that has crossed my mind more than it should and is a completely irrational way of thinking. The truth is I wanted you long ago, but we couldn’t be together. You had to know it wasn’t what I truly desired. Now, I just want to be happy and safe with the person I choose. No catch. No reason. Just because I need him and he craves me. But that’s not the case. I’m just desperate to screw and looked to the wrong guy for the task.”

“Brooke,” I try to keep her close, but she jerks her arm away from me and pulls her T-shirt back on as she hurries out of the room, leaving me feeling like a careless jerk who hurt her.

Fuck. There’s no way I can stay away from her, knowing that’s the bullshit in her head. I grab her doorknob, turning, and find it’s locked.

I knock then hear a muffled, “Go away.”

“Let me in,” I state, not caring if Tara or anyone else in this goddamn house hears me.

The door swings open and she says, “I said go away.”

When she goes to slam the door, I shove inside the bedroom before she can close me out. I need to be able to reach her. The thought of her behind a locked door that I can’t get through sends a biting panic through me. Even if my father isn’t here right now, I can’t leave her unguarded.

“I’m not leaving you like this. I’ve told you that I want you and only you. But not like this. Not because you’re scared or trying to cover deep pain with temporary pleasure. I don’t want you to have regrets.”

She turns away, moving to her bed as she mutters, “Too late.”

She’s mad. She’s hurting. Nothing good will come out of talking tonight. But I’m not going anywhere. I drop down in the chair near the window until I hear her muffled sobs.

Moving to the bed, I slide under the blanket then pull her back to me, holding on tight as I say, “I’m so sorry.” For all the pain I’ve caused her and the hurt that I will inflict later.

Her sobs quiet eventually, and she relaxes and falls to sleep. I stare at the wall until I finally drift off. How the hell will I ever apologize to her for what’s to come?

37

BROOKE

There’s a knock on my bedroom door before Mom singsongs, “Good morn—” Her words cut off when she notices Micah in bed beside me. “Brooke Elise, downstairs now.”

She rotates and hurries out before the last word is out her mouth.

“Great. I’m in trouble for having a boy in my bed that I haven’t actually slept with.”

Micah stretches as he stands from the bed. “I’ll talk to her.”

“No need. She is my mother. I’ll handle it. Just stay out of my bed,” I state more out of humiliation than desire for him to not return. Perhaps I’m being childish, but I don’t care. Everyone around me is making decisions that they think is best for me but none are asking what I actually want.

Micah leaves, closing the door behind him as I get up and pull on joggers then quickly tie my hair up in a bun. There’s no point in stalling or avoiding Mom. She won’t just let this one go.

When I enter the kitchen, Mom is seated at the breakfast table not touching the omelet in front of her. Once I sit beside her, she takes a slow, extended sip of coffee but doesn’t speak.

“Want me to make you something, Brooke? I can whip up some blueberry pancakes if you’re not in the mood for an omelet,” Freddie, the Montclairs’ private chef, asks as I grab a slice of toast and hold it up.