by Sweet, Izzy
I’m not home, I’m not safe.
Oh shit, where am I?
I struggle to sit up, fighting off the blanket wrapped around me. Once I have the blanket kicked off, my eyes strain against the darkness.
It takes my eyes several seconds to adjust, and I can only make out that I’m in a room, on a big bed. The first thing I do is stick my hands out and check the bed beside me.
It’s empty.
Next, I check myself. All my clothes are in place. The only thing I seem to be missing is my shoes, and maybe a little bit of my sanity.
I breathe a sigh of relief, grateful that Gabriel didn’t fuck with me in my sleep. He had every opportunity. I must have been dead to world if I didn’t wake up when he carried me here from the car. I didn’t even wake up when he tucked that blanket around me.
Speaking of Gabriel… where is he?
The need to know has me carefully sliding out of the bed. My toe bumps into something hard and it takes me a second to figure out that it must be my shoe. Nudging the shoes out of the way, my bare feet sink into a soft carpet.
Good. The carpet will make it easier to sneak around without getting caught.
Slowly, quietly, I make my way to the door.
When I finally reach it, I find myself holding my breath as I try the handle, half-expecting it to be locked.
Thank fucking god, it’s not.
The handle gives easily, and I almost can’t believe it. Why didn’t he lock me in? Does he want me to escape?
This is too damn easy.
Still, I ease the door open and peer through the crack I’ve created. Only more darkness awaits me on the other side.
I wait, holding my breath again, ears straining.
Faintly I can make out movement, but it sounds like it’s coming from the floor below me.
Gathering up my courage, I open the door all the way and step out into the hallway, expecting Gabriel to jump out of the shadows at any moment.
All is quiet though as I make my way to the landing next to the stairs. No surprises. No one jumping out to scare the shit out of me.
Gripping the rail, I lean forward, watching and listening again.
A faint light comes from somewhere, illuminating some of the darkness. I can make out a living area. A couple of couches, chairs, and a big entertainment center.
No Gabriel, though.
After a couple of minutes, I decide to try my luck and quietly make my way down the stairs.
When none of the boards creak, I can’t help but wonder if this is a dream. Again, this is too damn easy. It should be harder.
I creep across the first floor and finally stumble across a door with a stream of light beaming out from beneath it.
I instantly still, listening.
Someone is moving around inside. Then I hear the unmistakable sound of a shower curtain being pulled back, followed by the sound of a faucet being turned on.
I have to assume it’s Gabriel, who else can it be?
And he’s about to take a shower. My luck couldn’t get any better tonight. I wait until I hear the shower curtain again then I quickly make my way to the front door.
My legs ache to run, to flee as fast as I can, to get the hell out of here. It’s everything I can do to force myself to walk slowly, to not to give myself away.
But once I reach the front door, all bets are off. I hastily undo the lock and yank it open.
I run out into the night.
The cold hits me, and I quickly remember I’m barefoot. The morning dew chills my feet as I run through the grass of the front yard.
My breath puffs out in white clouds in front of me, but I don’t care. I’m free. Finally free.
I can go anywhere I want.
I run all the way up the street until I reach an intersection and stop.
Left or right?
It should be an easy, simple choice, yet it’s not. I have no clue where I am. I have no clue where I’m going.
I need to reach a phone, but who the fuck am I going to call?
Panting in the cold, I start to spin in a circle, trying to figure out what to do. I can’t reach out to any of my family, not even my mother’s side of the family. Nor any of the Irish. I guess the only people I can ask for help is my friends from school…
But do I really want to drag them into this mess?
Shit.
Doing that will probably get someone killed.
What the fuck am I going to do?
I guess I can try to hide on my own…
But with what money? What identification? What car?
Fuck!
I grab at my hair, tugging and pulling on it, as I try to figure out what the hell to do.
Just as I feel like I’m going to scream in angry, helpless frustration, Lily’s words pop into my mind, unbidden and un-fucking-welcome.
Gabriel will protect you. He’s your best chance at staying alive.
Goddammit.
I hate it, but she’s right.
He might be the only person I have in the whole world…
Spinning back toward the house I just ran from, I stare at the open front door while I try to think up an alternative.
I waste precious seconds determining I have none.
It doesn’t mean I have to accept things as they are right now, though.
Making up my mind, I run back to the house, hoping I get back before he realizes what happened.
By the time I reach the open front door, my feet feel frozen and my lungs ache. Closing the door, I have to lean against it a moment to catch my breath.
I don’t have much time, though, so I straighten my shoulders and make my way to the kitchen. Steeling my resolve, I grab the biggest, sharpest knife from the block on the counter and make my way to the bathroom I passed earlier.
The light is still on and the air smells faintly of soap and water.
I try the handle, it gives easily.
Does he have something against locking the door or something?
Pushing the door open, I discover the room is not a bathroom like I expected. Rather it’s a bedroom with a bathroom attached to it.
The door to the bathroom is cracked open. Steam pours out and I can hear the water still running.
Feeling like a psycho serial killer from a bad horror movie, I stalk toward the bathroom and decide to hide the knife behind my back at the last second.
Thankfully, the door doesn’t creak as I push it open until I can squeeze past it. A blast of warm, steamy air hits me in the face as soon as I step into the bathroom, and after the cool night air it feels downright oppressive.
Making my way to the shower curtain, it’s everything I can do not to pant and give myself away.
There’s no time to waste, no time to steel myself again, so I just grab the shower curtain and rip it open.
Gabriel stands on the other side in all his wet, naked glory. He’s already turned toward me as if he expected me.
The sight of all his damp, glistening skin threatens to dazzle me, and I have to shake my head to clear it.
I have a mission, dammit.
“Meghan?” Gabriel asks, sounding more confused than worried.
I take a step forward and do my best to keep my expression blank.
Stiffening, his eyes narrow at me suspiciously. “What are you doing in here?”
Lowering my lashes, I try to ignore how all his muscles clench and bulge as he tenses. He’s truly a work of art. A mouth-watering combination of ink and pure, brutal man.
I take another step forward and another, until he’s moving back.
Stepping into the tub with him, I say, “I think it’s time we had a heart to heart.”
Just as I bring the knife up, I’m grabbed and shoved into the tile wall.
Gabriel’s fingers wrap around my throat as I push the tip of the knife into his left pec, above his heart.
Gaze darkening, his eyes flick down to the blade and back up to my face. “A heart to heart, huh?”
<
br /> 9
Meghan
“Yes,” I exhale roughly as Gabriel’s fingers squeeze around me.
The force of his hold grinds my spine into the hard tile wall and I stretch up on my tiptoes, seeking some relief.
I’m definitely starting to have second thoughts about this.
Maybe I didn’t think this through, but fuck it. I have to do something. I can’t just sit around, playing the helpless damsel in distress.
I fucking refuse to. This is my life and I will have a say in it, and if he refuses to cooperate…
Well, only one of us will be leaving this bathroom unscathed.
As I see it, we’re locked in a stalemate.
When his fingers don’t let up, I poke the knife harder into his chest in warning. I don’t want to hurt him, I really don’t, but I will if he pushes me.
The poke of the knife seems to amuse him. Lips curling with a smirk, his fingers relax enough to let me take another breath, only to squeeze around me harder after I do.
“If you want to talk,” he says, leaning forward and pushing himself on the knife. “Then talk.”
Unable to stop myself, I look down as his grip around my throat loosens and watch a trickle of blood roll down his chest.
This fucker is definitely crazier than I am.
I think he has a death wish.
Shit.
Looking back up, I try to remember what the hell I wanted to say, but nothing is playing out like I thought it would in my head.
Does he have no sense of self-preservation?
“Well?” Gabriel asks expectantly.
“I can’t do this,” I gasp, though I don’t know who I’m answering, me or him.
“Do what?”
Just when I thought I couldn’t get any more disturbed by his actions, his thumb begins to stroke against my throat in a way that could be considered tender.
I’m holding a knife to his heart and the fucker is practically petting me…
“Any of this!” I hiss, trying to remember the whole purpose of this mess.
Gabriel has me so flustered though, everything is turning to shit. How the hell am I supposed to intimidate him into giving me what I want if he’s not the least bit afraid of me?
“I can’t do this Gabriel, I can’t. I won’t be your fucking captive or your tool for revenge.”
Something sparks in his eyes. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” I nearly growl and shake my head, trying to dislodge his thumb.
His fingers tighten around me in warning and I stop.
I take a deep breath to calm myself and hate that it burns a little. The weight of his hand around my throat is starting to feel more and more like a collar.
It’s definitely a mark of possession.
This whole stupid plan wasn’t supposed to go down like this. I was supposed to have the upper hand. I was supposed to be the one in control.
How did he turn this around on me? Especially when I’m the one holding a knife to him?
“I won’t be your fucking bedlam and mayhem, Gabriel,” I finally remember, and watch with satisfaction as the smirk slides right off his face.
Yeah, I was paying attention when you were explaining why you married me.
Staring him hard in the eyes, my pulses races as I add, “I refuse to be an object you use and discard once you’re done with it. I rather die than live like that.”
And I fucking mean it. I wasn’t going to do it for Alexei, I would have slit his throat from ear to ear as soon as I was given a chance. And I sure as hell won’t do it for this asshole.
“What the fuck are you saying?” he asks, his face hardening until it’s stone cold.
I fix my grip on the handle of the knife, my palm and fingers starting to sweat from holding it like this.
It’s so damn humid in here from the shower, the smell of his soap, his skin, is going to my head.
“Either we do this for real…like we’re a team…”
“Or?” he asks, his eyes locked on my eyes.
I push the knife into him to make my point.
“I see,” he says, his jaw clenching.
Staring into his eyes, I try to figure out what the hell he’s thinking. He looks angry as fuck, but also contemplative.
Seconds pass, our breaths mingling, my body flushing with heat, and my skin dampening.
As much as I don’t want to acknowledge it, I can’t help but be aware of how close his body is to mine. Nor can I forget that he’s completely naked.
The image of him dripping wet will forever be burned into the back of my eyes.
He’s truly impressive, built like a fucking god... or a devil. A devil that draws me in with his eyes.
“There’s one little problem with your request though, little girl,” he finally says, cutting through the oppressive silence.
Clenching my teeth at the little girl remark, I resist the urge to push the knife into him harder. “And that is?”
A slow grin spreads across his lips as I rise to the bait. “This marriage has been real to me from the beginning.”
How is that a problem? I wonder in confusion.
Before I know what’s happening, he’s pushing the knife away way too fucking easily and pressing his body against me.
Pinning me to the wall, his mouth crashes against my mouth in a bruising kiss.
Instantly, every little nerve in my body screams to life. Crying out for something only he can give.
I’m so shocked at first, so caught off guard, I just freeze.
Then the reality of what’s happening sinks its teeth in.
No. No. No. No…
This isn’t what I wanted. This isn’t why I came in here, or what I was trying to achieve.
I try to twist my head away, but he growls and his kiss only becomes harder. More insistent.
The more I try to fight him, the tighter his fingers squeeze around my throat, cutting off my air.
How the fuck did me wanting to ask for a secret annulment turn into this? I think as I try to ignore his tongue pushing past my lips.
Maybe because I never actually got around to the asking for the annulment part.
Dammit.
When I walked in here, I didn’t count on him making me so damn flustered I’d fuck up the little speech I came up with in my head.
Reaching out with my free hand, I start shoving at him.
Finally releasing his grip on my throat, he grabs up the hand shoving at him and pins it to the wall above my head.
Shit. I don’t know what to do. I still have the knife, but I truly don’t want to hurt him like that.
I don’t really want to kill the only man who’s ever tried to protect me.
He begins to push his way between my thighs, using his hips to lift my ass up. And as soon as I feel something hard pressing into my sex, my body reacts as if I was just struck by lightning.
Unwanted jolts of sensation radiate from my core, zipping up my spine, and tingling through my limbs.
My fingers tighten around the knife as it almost slips from my grip.
I try to twist away, try to turn my head again now that his fingers are no longer locked around my throat.
Grabbing my face with his other hand, his fingers press into my cheeks, opening my mouth wider for his invasion.
His tongue sweeps in, claiming and conquering me without reservation.
Do something, my mind cries out as my body begins to give in, my resolve melting into his kiss just like I did back in the church.
I know from experience I can only resist his pull for so long.
I literally only have seconds left.
There’s just something about him, something dark and dangerous, that sings to me, drawing me in like a moth to the flame.
I want to play with his fire. I want to combust in his arms, shedding the old Meghan, and be reborn as something new...
And it scares the shit out of me.
In an act of pure desperation, I bite down on h
is lip.
He jerks back with a grunt.
“I want an annulment,” I manage to push out of my raw throat.
He stiffens with surprise then his face twists with fury.
“No,” he growls low, sounding more like a beast than a man.
I open my mouth to repeat what I just said, but his lips capture mine again, cutting me off.
He kisses me so damn hard, it’s almost like he’s attacking me, the force of it grinding me into the wall.
With each stroke of his tongue, with each hungry noise rolling down my throat, I find myself weakening. The fight seeping out of my bones as my brain turns to mush.
So I do the only thing I can do right now.
I bite him again to get him to stop.
“No,” he growls again, lower, meaner, and angrier against my mouth.
I bite him again and again, not accepting his no after no, until I finally really sink my teeth in and taste blood.
He jolts away from me.
“I don’t want to stay married! I want an annulment in exchange for my full cooperation. We don’t have to stay married, Gabriel. We can work together and be free,” I pant out before he has another chance to smother my words.
I watch him, heart hammering against my ribs, as he reaches up, his fingers exploring the cut my teeth made on his lip.
Stiffening, I try to prepare myself for his anger, for his retaliation. No doubt he’ll want to hurt me back for hurting him.
His eyes darken, going nearly black, but it’s not in anger. Oh no, it’s a heated look full of lust.
Oh god, he couldn’t have possibly gotten turned on by that…
Mouth curving into a disturbing grin, he grabs me by the back of the head and leans in until we’re nearly nose to nose.
“Free?” He chuckles, his warm breath caressing me. “Freedom is an illusion. No one is truly free… We’re all owned by someone or something.”
I try to shake my head in denial, but his fingers tighten in my hair, stopping the movement.
“You’re mine, Meghan. I own you now,” he says firmly.
With nowhere to look but at his eyes, I find myself being pulled in, sucked into their harsh depths.
“Mine to cherish… Mine to protect… You gave yourself to me. You put yourself willingly in my hands. You took the vow in front of God.”