When the school bell rings, I’m ready for it, and pull my phone out to call my brother back.
Surprise, surprise, he answers on the first ring. “I was five seconds from hopping on a plane.”
I find it hard to laugh when normally I would. “Maybe I should ignore your calls more often, like you’ve been ignoring mine.”
He’s quiet, a sigh woven in his words. “That’s not fair, B. You know I’d be with you if I could.”
I nod, squeezing my eyes shut and tell myself he’s being honest when it’s getting harder to believe.
I shouldn’t ask what follows, but I can’t stop myself.
“Those Brays keeping you busy, big brother?”
He clears his throat, a rasped and hesitant “Yeah, B, they are” following.
When my eyes cloud over, I pretend the lie didn’t fall so easily.
“I called you seven hours ago,” he says next. “You didn’t text back. Why not?”
“Sorry, I was busy, and then, you know, school.” I pull a petal off one of the giant rose bushes framing the side of the school and rub it between my fingers.
“Busy at seven in the morning?” His tone is full of suspicion.
The added noise on the line lets me know he’s no longer alone and our two minutes of sibling time is about to end, so before he can cut me off, tell me he has to go do... whatever the hell it is he’s doing wherever the hell he’s at, I beat him to the punch.
“I have to go, Bass.” I let the red petal fall to the ground. “Maybe we’ll talk soon.”
“Brielle?”
I drop my head, my chest aching.
I understand the worry in his tone, the sadness. I feel it too, the disconnect.
I’ve never allowed myself to be upset with my brother.
He’s my best friend. My only family. My only friend.
Or he was.
I have new friends now, a couple anyway. And I have Royce, but my brother?
I feel like I’m losing him, and I’m not okay with that.
He’s always been everything to me. I couldn’t live with myself if I allowed a wedge to form between us. I also don’t know how to fix it, but what I do know is I’d do anything for him, no matter the cost. Always, as he’s done for me.
It’s who we are, the Bishop bastards.
“Brielle!”
I whip around to find Micah at the curb, Valine in the front seat and Jonah in the back. He smiles, nodding his head at me. “Come on, girl!”
“Brielle?” Bass draws into the line. I’d almost forgotten he was still on it.
There’s so much commotion surrounding him now I can hardly hear him through it anyway.
“I have to go,” I repeat. “My friends are waiting for me.”
“That’s... that’s good, B. Have fun, but be careful. Some weird shit’s going down, so let me know if anything feels off, okay?” There’s a hint of uncertainty in his tone now, and for some reason it brings the moisture back to my eyes.
“I will... wait.” I plug my left ear to hear him better. “Ciara said.” I pause. Shit, okay. I lie. “She said she’s been seeing a car parked around lately. Did you happen to send someone to, you know, watch me?”
“No,” he rushes out. “I haven’t. I told you the Brayshaws might send someone your way. Just, stay away. Stick to the plan.”
My mouth opens, but I quickly close it, and squeeze my eyes shut. “Yeah, brother. I’ll stick to the plan.”
It takes effort to hang up the line, but I do, and make my way over to Micah.
He pushes the door open before I’ve even reached it, and grins wide. “We’re off tonight, Mac gave the okay for Valine to crash the Wolves Den with us.”
“The warehouses?”
He nods. “Yup.”
My phone beeps, and I look to the screen to find a text from my brother.
Bass: I love you, B. I’ll bring you home soon.
I’m already here, brother... where the hell are you?
I take a deep breath, turn off my phone, and shove it into my backpack.
“So, what’s up, girl? You in?”
Am I in? Down to party on a weekday?
School’s out in nine days for summer, so screw it.
I hop in the car.
Four hours, two and a half-tempted third shots later, I’m feelin’ good, dancing and enjoying the heavy scent of bad decisions and teenage foreplay.
Valine smirks, pulling her cup to her lips and whispers, “Incoming.”
Micah and Jonah slip up and start dancing around us. Jonah closer to me, Micah her.
I’ve never really danced in front of anyone before, mainly in my bedroom or while cleaning, but this is addicting. Freeing.
I let my body lead, maybe the alcohol a bit, too, and it feels good.
I’m not out waiting for time to pass because I’m forced to be, I don’t have to wonder about what mess awaits me when I get home. I’m here, enjoying the now, and all because I chose to be.
To be here tonight.
To live in this town.
To work for this family.
To fall for one of its members?
Well, that was accidental.
Jonah’s hands reach for me, but Micah comes between us before they can land, laughing as he shoves Jonah toward Valine.
“Partner switch?” I raise a brow.
He winks, comes in closer and lifts his arms, they case me in, but don’t hold on and I keep tempo with him, swaying and air grinding as he does. “More like ensuring his arms don’t get ripped from their sockets.”
I laugh and do a little twirl.
Micah follows my lead, pretending to dip me without actually touching me, effectively playing along.
“You’re pretty good at that,” I tease.
He grins. “What if I told you I used to practice the waltz when I was younger ‘cause I thought that was how junior high dances would be?”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “I bet you were terribly upset when you got there and realized it was straight street dancing.”
He chuckles, but it smooths out. “You never came to any of the dances at the high school.”
I shrug. “I don’t people well.”
“Look at you, girl, you people just fine.”
“It’s the difference in where I was and where I belonged.” I shake my head. I give a playful eye roll so I don’t sound so stagey. “Besides, nobody talked to me, not that I made it easy or gave any effort either.”
“I talked to you,” Micah points out. “I’ve always talked to you.”
“You were in at least two of my classes every year, my writing partner in English for two. You kind of had to.”
He nods, but there’s something else in his eyes, an emotion I can’t quite read. He lifts a shoulder. “I’d have talked to you even if I wasn’t,” he admits. “In your classes, I mean.”
I could easily point out how he didn’t, but I don’t see a point. It is what it is, and it’s done with.
A smile finds my lips. “I’m glad we—”
“There you go, little Bishop.” The words spoke somewhere in the distance are a heady growl, a sheer leading comment of what’s to come.
Micah jumps three steps back as we turn to look at the guy who’s just walked in.
Dressed in black from head to toe, Royce slips farther in with slow motion-like movement.
His jeans, expensive and perfectly fit, lay against his black high-tops and he wears a crisp dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to rest on the curve of his elbow, tattoos gleaming in the low light. The white of his eyes are near nonexistent as he creeps closer with the aura of a snake.
His approach is silent.
“Smile wide at the fucker.” His lips curl in what’s meant to be a grin but is far, far from it. “Get closer, let him see what my cock did to that filthy little mouth of yours.”
My stomach hollows out and I can’t even force myself to look at Micah. Guilt colors my neck red, and it has nothing to do wi
th being here, but everything to do with the little after-dark personal moment of ours.
“What are you doing?”
“Me?” He slides forward with a nasty chuckle, now hovering over me, caging me in—a wild animal and its prey.
The ruler and the stray.
The vein in his jaw tics angrily. “What are you playin’ at, Brielle?”
He glares through dark, tethered lashes, but the longer I look into them, the more I see.
The anger, it’s for everyone else, but the fear, it’s for me.
Or more, because of me... and invisible to all but me.
My eyes quickly flick over his body again, his nice clothes, freshly showered hair.
He was ready to celebrate, and not with just anyone.
With me.
So I ignore his foul words and mucky glower and make my way to him.
He doesn’t fight me, but it’s easy to see his instincts tell him to, so those he does battle on the inside, I’m sure of it. But not for long.
I wrap my arms around his middle and he glares down his nose at me, his body shaking slightly, rage rearing its way out, but he can’t hide the long exhale—I feel it against my chest.
I lift my chin, then slowly tip my head, exposing my neck as if offering it as a meal to a starved vampire.
His eyes fall to the angry mark he darkened up last night and his chest rumbles against mine.
“They see,” I whisper, reminding him of what he asked of me last night.
To show them, them being everyone.
Slowly, his muscles loosen. “They see, but do they know who put it there?”
I shrug, baiting him with my smirk, knowing how much he loves to bite.
And bite he does.
His arms sling greedily around me, lifting me from the floor, and my legs wrap around him.
His eyes bore into mine with a silent demand, one I’ll gladly meet.
I press my lips to his, right there in the middle of the room, and he growls his appreciation, kissing me back just as hard for all to see.
As we pull away, he grins, and then Mac is beside us, offering us both a shot.
Royce chuckles and lowers me to my feet, nodding for me to take it.
So I do.
Chapter 28
Royce
I’m a bastard. I know this.
I acted like a dick, like always, but my girl... she understood where it came from—a fucked-up mind of a guy who is desperate for all she can give me but admittedly—pitifully—fearful of the fallout he knows will follow, not that that’s an excuse.
It’s not. She deserves better, I know this.
But Brielle, she doesn’t hold it against me.
She’s kind when others aren’t, forgiving when she shouldn’t be, because she’s fucking light and she can’t help but shine it over everyone.
She always understands what I want and what I need, when I need it and why. It’s fucked-up to have to deal with my bullshit, but she does it with stride.
Right now, she laughs with Chloe across the room, but when her eyes skate this way, finding mine on her, she breaks from their conversation and heads for where I’m sitting on a couch.
She slips between my legs, eyeing me.
I run my knuckles along her neck and down her breastbone, my eyes flicking to hers when goose bumps follow.
She sighs, and it heats me to the core.
Fuck Bass and the bullshit before this, fuck everything.
All I want is this.
Her.
In the morning and at night, every hour in between.
I told her I’d get addicted, and I was at first taste... if I wasn’t before that.
Pretty fucking sure I was.
Brielle’s lips hover over mine. “You have a nephew. How is he?”
Fuck me, I do.
My family grew last night.
My whole world grew last night...
I push her hair over her shoulder, and she smiles. “He’s perfect, like I knew he would be.”
I pull her forward until her mouth is in line with mine.
“Stay with me again tonight.”
She kisses me, but pulls away too quick, a slow smirk growing. “We’ll see.”
“We’ll see.” I frown. “We’ll see? Tink, swear to God—”
Her lips crush mine and we’re done fuckin’ talking.
It’s not long after that I take my baby home. As we step from my ride, I grip her and she latches on, kissing me while I carry her across the property, through the open pool gate, and walk us straight into the water.
She gasps, the cold a surprise, but her grip never wavers, and neither do her eyes.
I drag my hands along her ribs and squeeze, inhaling her exhale, and step us out a little deeper into the water.
“Lie back, onto my hands,” I rasp.
She doesn’t ask why, doing as I said, her body straight as a board and light in my palms.
I keep my hands pressed against her upper thighs and lower back.
“Close your eyes, relax your muscles, and breathe deep, baby girl. Steady.”
She does, her chest rising before me and it takes serious effort not to run my hands over her breasts.
“Let go of everything on the inside, and just ...breathe.” Slowly, I remove my hands, staying close at her side for several moments before slowly drifting away.
The water ripples with my retraction and her eyes open. I lift my hands high, so she doesn’t lose focus as she seeks me out, and her lips curl up gently.
At the sight, my lungs hollow out.
I might be a sinking fucking ship, I can’t deny that, but if I do go down, she doesn’t have to drown with me.
And now she won’t.
This girl, she’s brave.
She’s not afraid to be vulnerable, could care less of what people think of her. She wants nothing more than to simply...be.
The truth is, I wish I was like her.
I’m not.
I’m who the outside world expects me to be. Young, rich, and privileged and everything those three worthless words entail.
Like I said, I might drown in a persona of my own making, but my baby, she won’t.
She’ll float. One day learn to swim. And then this girl, she’ll soar way the fuck above me, because she’ so much more than I could ever be.
Yet here she is, smiling up at the stars in my pool, on my property, in my reach.
She’s perfect
And she’s mine.
Brielle
His lips, god I love them. So soft but rough, full and commanding, masterfully purposeful as is his every touch.
Royce must have bewitched me because I don’t know how it happens or if anyone spotted us, but when my eyes open and the lustful fog lifts a little, I realize we’re no longer in the pool, but climbing stairs. Stairs inside the Brayshaw mansion.
Royce pulls back, his gaze eager, heartbeat erratic, but his hold... tense.
For the boy who doesn’t show the world who he really is, this is huge. Tough, even if he won’t say the words out loud.
He brought me into his home, into his safe space, the only place he can be free to smile and laugh for real, to love and play and breathe.
His steps slow as we reach the top of the stairs and I glide my hand along his cheek, into his hair, holding on to him.
His eyes close, a hard puffed breath fans across my lips, sending a shiver down my spine.
“You can turn around right now and I promise you, my feelings won’t be hurt.” I slide my other hand up and case him in fully.
His pulse pounds against my fingers, his brows caving in.
I offer him a small smile and I nod in encouragement. “Turn around, Royce. Take me outside.”
His forehead falls to mine and he pauses. A few seconds pass, and then his eyes pop up, one hand leaving me, the twist of a knob sparking the nerves low in my stomach.
With every step into the room he takes, his muscles ease, his confidence
rolling back in and strengthening his grip, his gaze, his being.
Gone are the creases along his face, and in their place is a smooth hint of certainty.
He grips my hips, so I allow my legs to fall from around him, and the second my feet hit the floor, his hands are tugging my soiled shirt over my head. He drops it where we stand and his fingers slide to the button of my shorts, unfastening them.
His hands glide along the waist and he pushes them down.
They fall to my feet, and I don’t hesitate to step out of them.
The pads of his thumbs find the piercings on my hipbones and a low groan leaves him as he floats across the embedded silver, curving around to my ass from there.
He squeezes and a sharp gasp escapes me, my chest falling to his, and my bra’s unhooked a moment later.
His eyes find and hold mine as he dips his head, using his chin to push the straps down my shoulder and moving over to do the same to the other.
The fan above us blows quiet and cool, hitting the wet spot left behind and causing a chill to spread through me.
Royce’s hand sneaks between our bodies, and he tugs my bra from between us, my breasts now naked against his button-up.
He swallows, licking his lips as his fingertips skate along my ribs, hooking into the hem of my underwear. “I take these off, I’m sliding in.”
“I might beat you if you don’t.”
His chuckle is low but cut short when his fist wraps up the thin cotton, stretching it while he works through the last bit of his reserve. And then he tears them, rips the sides, and they fall to the floor in a shredded mess. I’m naked against him.
His mouth falls to mine, kissing and nipping and sucking on my lower lip until, once again, his forehead falls forward. “Lie back on my bed, baby, let me look at you.”
There’s a heavy pull between my legs, and my nipples peak, growing hard and firm for him.
I push onto my toes, tug his head down, and crush my mouth into his. Royce kisses me back with such vigor I can hardly stand it.
He’s so raw and primal. Perfect.
I can’t believe this is me, us. I feel like I’m about to burst and he’s hardly touched me, but there’s something about being naked and in his grasp that has me teetering.
Break Me Page 29