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But it wasn’t just a kiss.
I betrayed their memory with that act, and that’s hard enough to face, but my head is still splintering with questions. Behind that, guilt drags me along, a heavy weight continually tugging on the chain shackled to me.
Was it Sean or Dominic who claimed me? Both? And would one or both hate me if they knew I’d damn near screwed the bastard who tore us apart?
Does it even matter? It’s been months and months, and they’ve given me nothing but a trinket. I’ve been dangling in the dark without a fucking thing to hold onto, and this is the thread meant to keep me?
It’s not enough. Not nearly enough. My contempt for their continued absence has led me to a place of defiance. And maybe that’s why I participated in that kiss.
I felt that thread start to unravel the second that bastard’s mouth ravaged mine. I can still feel the pressure of his lips while the bones of the forest dug into my back. In seconds, his ferocious kiss turned me from a fighter into a willing submissive. And that made me question myself in a completely different way.
In the past few days, I’ve taken inventory, piecing together the parts I know while forming more theories. But no matter how much I try and piece it together—piece myself together—the longer I extend my sentence.
I need to let go. I have to let go. Now more so than ever.
Because it wasn’t just Tobias’s kiss that was the most damning, it’s the fact that I should expect and demand more for myself. And the people in my life are making it hard for me to believe I deserve it.
When my father was alerted of my absence at the plant, I replied to his inquiring email and told him I had a virus. And with that, he was satisfied—unconcerned. He’s no longer skirting the lie of a relationship. There’s no point. He’ll have me paid off soon anyway.
My mother’s calls are also becoming less and less frequent. I’m not sure if she’s retreated into herself or not, but I can’t bring myself to help her if she won’t let me in. Once she’s wealthy, maybe she’ll try to get the help she needs. It doesn’t change the fact that at twenty, I feel orphaned.
I allow myself to hate them both a little for it.
The longer this goes on, the more my relationships with each of them are starting to chip away at me.
Not a single soul on Earth, aside from Christy, cares about me enough to keep me close. Cares enough about me to make me a priority.
Maybe there’s an exception in whoever sent that necklace. But even he hasn’t been bold enough to step up and claim me, to come forward in backing his declaration, his decision. To fight for me. Not in the way he should.
And not in the way I need him to.
My self-worth is suffering at my own hands as well.
I can’t shake the feeling that what happened with Tobias wasn’t just a battle of wills with a man who is hell-bent on destroying me, but a closer look at my reflection.
I wanted him—Dominic’s brother.
I wanted him.
So much so, that I loathe every part of me that he touched.
In the shower, I scrub my skin mercilessly to try and rid myself of all traces, welcoming the burn while aggravating the bite marks on my neck and breast. He’d actually broken through the skin around my nipple, and it was a tinge of copper along with betrayal that I tasted in his kiss.
Sick fuck.
But if he’s sick, what does it make me? What does it say about me that I can’t stop imagining what would have happened if I had given in? It’s not just the way he kissed me. It’s the intensity that bounces between us every time he’s near me, and it’s inescapable. I’d chalked up my initial reaction to him the day we met as a culmination of nerves and shock. I can’t at all say the same now. This morning I woke up, my panties soaked because of a dream starring a man I loathe before I easily brought myself to a toe-curling orgasm.
Out of the shower, I don’t bother to wipe the condensation from the mirror. I no longer want to see my reflection. Dripping wet on the marble floor, I search for the towel I swore I set on the counter and carefully tread to my room to retrieve another from the linen closet. Opening the door, I scream when I see Tobias standing, devastating and dangerous in another tailored suit, my missing towel dangling from his fingers as his eyes devour me in a long sweep.
Ignoring the rush his rapt attention brings, I point toward my door.
“Get out. Get the fuck out.”
His blistering gaze continues to roam over me from the soaked hair at my neck to my breasts, illicit appreciation in his gaze before it drops to the thinly shaved patch of hair between my legs.
I turn my back to him denying his view, jerking open my dresser, grabbing a pair of panties, and a long T-shirt.
“You need to leave or—”
