Burn For Me (The Burn Series Book 3)

by Dee Ellis

  Seth comes up behind me, cupping my shoulders. I realize I’m trembling so hard, my body is shaking. He presses close, lowering his head to look at me in the mirror. Tears are streaming down my face as he twists his head. Pressing his mouth to my ear, he whispers just a few words. But they have the affect he means them to.

  “Hello again, Violet.” As his lips brush the flesh of my ear, I lose the fight.

  I retch into the sink in front of me, shaking and shuddering as I empty my stomach. Violet. Violet Lawton is the ghost of the girl I used to be. I had tucked her away into the shadows with Seth, Poppy, my parents. Everything about my old life.

  Violet was never enough for Reginald and Victoria. My bright purplish eyes were too different. That they came from my grandmother, the only good Lawton I ever knew, didn’t matter to my father. Both Victoria and Reginald had silky blonde hair bright blue eyes, and I would not ruin the pretty photo we could present.

  As my hair grew darker, they spent thousands to color it. When Poppy came out with jet black hair, they did the same. We were Stepford children before middle school. Walking, talking, reacting like their puppets.

  I thought I’d severed the strings with Seth. Roguishly handsome, with black hair and blue eyes, he’d been a reckless choice. I knew he came from money, but he reeked of rebellion. That’s why I’d chosen him. I’d been so foolish to believe it had ever been my own choice.

  I don’t know if I remember a time before Seth. Our parents were friends, ran in the same circles, but we never associated much with each other. That is, until Daddy Dearest decided perhaps Seth might be the answer to controlling me.

  I had been such a fool back then; seeking any kind of affection I could since I got none from my father and not nearly enough from my mother. Seth had been a plot by my father, and his, and I’d been too blind to see it.

  “You are absolutely stunning, Violet Lawton.” I can still remember the smell of the air and the taste of champagne the night Seth started working me.

  At a charity function, Seth made a show of taking notice of me. Flirting with me, feeding my starved ego compliments, he had me eating out of his fucking hand. Seth knew nothing about subtlety. Charm was his secret weapon.

  Flirting at parties turned to Daddy approved visits, calls, then dates. It was almost enough. Just not for the bright, colorful Lola that was growing beneath the washed-out Violet. Not until rules started being broken did I truly begin to fall for Seth Fairchild.

  “Come out. Now. I want to see you, babes.” Once my interest began to wane, Seth’s seemed to grow. I became forbidden to him.

  “Father won’t let me. Photo ops tomorrow, I need to look fresh.” Which, of course, had meant I reeked of bleached hair, manicured nails, and my eyes stung from contacts.

  “Please, babes. I miss you. I need to see you. I’m crazy without you right now.” A reckless Seth seemed to renew my interest.

  That led to me breaking rules. I would sneak out to see him, go into Boston for rock concerts and not come home for days. We drank and smoked weed, refused to show up for events; we were begging for attention in all the wrong ways.

  “I love you like this. Reckless. Free. Colorful.” It was the only time I think Seth had seen me for me.

  I had cut my long flowing hair, ditched the contacts and cardigans. I felt like me. For the first time in my life. Seth said that me was beautiful. Just before he took my virginity in a dirty alley after his bands very first concert. I later found out he’d let them watch; kinky, debasing sex was his form of rebellion.

  Seems as if, besides a few years, a lot of self-harm, and a dwindling trust fund, little had changed about Seth Fairchild.

  “We were so perfect for each other, babes. We all know that. The entire world knows that.” Seth murmurs behind me, hands rubbing my shoulders until they hurt.

  “Don’t. Fucking. Touch me! We were never real, Seth. You never loved me. Never wanted me.” I whirl away, covering myself with my arms.

  “Of course, I loved you, babes. More than anything.” Seth moves forward and I back up.

  “Of course. You still love me, Seth?” I snort, backing myself into the edge of the counter.

  “I. Will. Always. Love you.” Seth barks out each word, spittle hitting me in the face.

  “Think Poppy might want to know that? Think my baby sister, who you just fucked feet away from me. might want to know who you love?” The crack of his hand across my face sent me sprawling back into the counter.

  “Shut your filthy whore mouth. What I do with Poppy is none of your business, Violet. You know better, don’t you, babes?” Wiping the blood from my split lip, I nodded.

  “Course I do, Seth. What you do is your business. I always knew that. Only difference now? I don’t care about your business.” I spit the blood at him, laughing when he gasps in shock.

  “Is that right? Am I not supposed to care that you’ve been giving this pussy up to every dick in Cook County? Because, too bad. I do. It’s mine, remember? You gave it to me. You do remember that, right?” I shrink away as he shoves his hand between my bare legs.

  “I do remember. Biggest mistake of my fucking life. You always were a lame fuck, Seth. I warned you not to touch me, babes.” I spat the last word in his face.

  Then, I brought my knee up and my elbow down. I’d done more than just run from the shadows for the past two years. I’d learned to fight them if I had to. They still scared me, and I didn’t even know if I could fight long enough for it to matter. But this time, Seth wasn’t getting me without a fight.

  My elbow crunched into the side of his head. At the same time, my knee rose up into his gut. Seth was taken completely by shock. No time for him to cover up or block it. He gasped for air as his head cracked into the edge of the counter. Blood spilled onto the crisp white carpet, and I darted out of the way of his falling body.

  Seth crumpled to the ground. I was just a little horrified to realize I hoped he didn’t get up. Ever. I stood over his body, feeling a brief moment of relief. Just as I backed away, it was taken from me.

  “Goddamnit, Violet!”

  Poppy. I whirled to face her, not hesitating a second. I launched myself at her. I was all legs and arms, nails at her face, fingers yanking at her hair. I threw as many blows as I could before she twisted, pinning me beneath her. Three hard, precise, and lighting fast strikes to the side of my head reminded me of my sister’s obsession with besting me. Of course she had trained too.

  “Calm down, Lola. Jesus. Always so damn dramatic.” With a huff, she shoved me aside and fell into the messy bed beside me.

  Tears streamed down my face, but I didn’t give her the satisfaction of showing pain. Another thing I’d learned with Seth. He got off on seeing me in pain. Now I had to wonder if my sister shared the same sickness. Twisted to glare at her, I waited for her to explain. I could tell she was anxious to get it all said.

  Poppy looked at me silently and for a moment, I saw the little sister I had left behind. I had abandoned her; I knew that. Had to live with that. But by the time I’d left for good, she was too tainted by my parents. By Bart and, apparently, Seth too. Poppy loved the attention, the parties, the status. Maybe that was my fault. Once upon time, she had only wanted my attention.

  Once, a once that feels like another life, Poppy and I were two peas in a pod. We were just two years apart so we shared a lot of experiences. First crushes—both of us lusted after Channing Tatum—first kiss, first heartbreaks. I’d no sooner get past my life moment and Pops would be having hers. I’d liked it that way; I’d liked leading her through the colorful moments in life. Lord knows our parents were hardly equipped to handle it.

  Protecting my sister became my duty. It was something I took seriously. Daddy was angry with Poppy? I did something worse to bring his focus back to me. Mother spoke down to Poppy? I brutally lashed out at Mother. Taking care of my little sister brought to life the Lola I became when I could no longer take it and, at last, had to walk away.

  �
��I don’t want to end up like them,” Poppy had sworn once, after a row with mother that left her in tears, “They care about nothing that matters; certainly not us.” I’d begun talking back, pushing boundaries, and so Poppy had too.

  Problem was, Poppy wanted different things, even then. She wanted the debutante ball, the coming out party, the weekends at the country club with people like her. I wanted to paint and draw about life. My idea of a party was music and laughter, and I hated people like her. Except, I never hated Poppy.

  Even as we got older and I saw her align herself with Bart Fairchild. As I watched her follow Daddy’s rules to the letter and pose at parties and shake hands while the men in the room looked at her like a piece of meat.

  Even when I realized our shared bloodline, flowery names, and bright purple eyes were all we had in common. All we might ever share; even then, I still loved her. Still wished she could color outside the lines just once.

  Seems now, Poppy has found her medium. Being filthy with the Fairchild brothers even while she plays the Lawton angel seems to be how she chooses to color her world. To color outside the lines in jagged, crooked, and too bright colors that I want no part of.

  “Always playing the drama queen. When you weren’t being the perfect little Lawton angel. Only Daddy couldn’t tame you so he tried to clip your wings.” Poppy jutted her chin towards Seth who, sadly, groaned and seemed to be coming around.

  Instead of seeing Seth’s interest for what it was—part rebellion and part self-preservation—I fell for it because I craved something different. Seth with his dark hair and tattoos, his dirty rock band, and the reckless lifestyle he claimed to embrace was totally different.

  Until it wasn’t. Because it was always our fathers pulling the strings. From the very beginning. Seth followed their rules by pushing me to break them. Meanwhile, he made Daddy Fairchild happy while fucking me right under my father’s nose.

  “I’m your Daddy now, babes. You belong to me. Let them hear who you belong to.” All my cries of pleasure—cries that often turned to pain as he fucked me harder if I didn’t obey—didn’t deter our parents from their Sunday brunches. Didn’t prove to me what a sadist Seth was, either.

  We would join them with bruises from his hands visible on my neck, fresh bites on my shoulders and breasts; they didn’t care as long as I covered them up by the next photo op. Father didn’t care that Seth supplied me with weed, then pills, and eventually coke; didn’t care when he caught him fucking me in the ass in the limo at his second term victory party.

  Once, during a meeting, our fathers simply looked away as Seth, high on coke, shoved his cock down my throat right in front of them. He came all over my face as they talked about the polls and how our united front made them look respectable. Sick fucking joke.

  Seth had played their game and got the benefit of breaking me down as he did it. He was a sadist, but a greedy one who never got the response he wanted out of his father, or mine. They didn’t care about anything but power and prestige.

  Us as a couple, and Poppy and Bart after us, promised them good numbers and a return on their investment in each other’s campaigns. None of us had a chance.

  “Seth is not your savior, Violet,” Poppy warned me a lifetime ago, “Seth can’t save himself; why would he be able to save you?” Even then, I knew she was right, but I had nothing else.

  By then, Poppy and I were strangers. She and Bart fell in line as our families demanded. Seth was still pretending he followed no rules, so when he asked me to run away for real, of course I agreed.

  Poppy pleaded with me, but I thought Seth was my only shot to be free of them. All of them; Poppy in her cardigans and curls had become too similar to our mother, who was washed out and colorless.

  “Seth did save me—he set me free. He loves me. Wants to marry me. Live on the beach and make love in the sun. It will be bright and noisy and lovely.” I had been such a damn fool.

  “Seth will kill you before he sets you free.” Poppy was right, of course.

  “Rather be dead than live the way they do. The way you do, Pops.” Those pretty indigo eyes had already started losing their glimmer by then, and I didn’t even care enough, so caught up in my own flight to freedom, to wonder why.

  “Not like I had a choice, big sister. I don’t get to make my own mistakes, or fail, or get it wrong. You already beat me to it all.” Guilt might have been the final straw that made me run a lifetime ago.

  I left with Seth, touring the country with him and his shitty band. Poppy never forgave me and didn’t speak to me for years. The last time we did speak, right before I made the mistake of marrying Seth, I knew she wasn’t the girl I remembered. I would always own some of that blame.

  “I just wanted a sister. Someone I could look up to, who I could emulate. You did all the wrong things, made all the wrong choices. Turns out I got pretty good at being the Lawton Angel.” Poppy bends to lean over Seth, looking right at me as she kisses him, her tongue sliding into his mouth.

  “Dancing with the devil. Or fucking him, at least.” My lips twist in a grimace as she settles over his lap, crossing her arms over his chest.

  Poppy combs his hair back with one hand, wiping at the blood from his temple with the other. Seth doesn’t speak. Just runs his hands over her thighs, up under her dress. I look away, and Poppy giggles.

  “Couldn’t be the only sister who didn’t dance with the devil. Had to at least have a tango.” I can hear them kissing, hear her little moans as he touched her.

  “And Bart? Let him put a ring on it anyway, did you?” I glance back as she pops back up, flattening her hands against his chest.

  “Bart will be a perfect husband. Treats me good, does what is expected of him, and fucks me any way I ask.” Beneath her, Seth starts thrusting his hips, but they’re just taunting me now.

  “Like sharing little sister with his big brother. Pretty Poppy does whatever we want. Don’t you, baby?” Seth groans as Poppy rocks her hips, nodding like a toy doll.

  “Whatever they want. However, they want. Because it’s what I want. I get two men; my perfect husband and my naughty lover. They wanted you, you know?” Poppy presses forward, glaring at me with icy blue eyes as Seth’s hands roam all over her.

  “Wanted me? For what? A fuck toy? Kind of figured something like that on my wedding night. Tell your pretty Poppy about that, Seth? How you passed me around like a blow-up doll? How you filmed it? How you hurt me when I said no? How you wanted to bring another girl in because watching your wife get fucked by four other men just didn’t do it for you?” Poppy flinches for a moment, and I think she might still be human.

  “Told you I liked to get dirty with you, babes. But who do you think I wanted to bring to that party?” Seth’s hands cup Poppy’s tits through her dress and she moans.

  Bile rises to the back of my throat as I watch them paw at each other. The Fairchild boys wanted us both; I’d heard rumors about he and Bart with girls before. What greedy fucks. I should have known. Seth systematically took everything from me. What I’d once had with my sister, it was all I had left of my former life. This all made sense now.

  The stalking, the break in; hell, maybe even the fire. Seth wanted me to come running back out of fear. Because he might have allowed the divorce, but he was never going to let me go. Especially not once he had Poppy. Because he had always wanted it all. Sadistic, spoiled fuck.

  “What was the visit about, Poppy? You don’t like to share. You want Seth to yourself. Which, by the way,” I shoot a pointed glare at him as he smirks up at me, “you can fucking have the psycho fuck. Why bring me here?” I realize then I don’t even know where here is; other than it being The Walfdorf Astoria.

  “We have roles to play, sis. All of us. We do what is asked of us, we get what we want. It’s not asking too much, Lola. Show up to a few important events. Smile and wave at the crowd. Pose for pictures. Perhaps a speech or two about Daddy being the perfect Speaker.” I touch the side of my head, licking my split
lip. Rage bubbles to the surface.

  “You kidnap me. Fuck up my hair. Assault me. Hold me here, wherever we are. Just to ask me to tag along on dad’s campaign?” I glance their way again to see Seth’s face between her tits, his tongue laving at her flesh.

  “With Hunter there, you wouldn’t even discuss it,” Poppy’s voice goes up with every word as she shoves Seth away by his shoulders, “I tried to do it nicely. You can’t play nice. Think your freedom doesn’t come at a cost? You’re wrong. Daddy needs you. It’s the least you can do.” I leap to my feet over them, not bothering to cover my nakedness.

  “I paid the price for my freedom from Seth, from you, from them. Fuck you, Poppy. You know nothing about the price that fuck made me pay. I owe none of you a single thing. Nothing. What do I matter to the campaign? No one cares that I don’t show up to the shit show Daddy’s camp is perpetrating.” I yank the sheets up and wrap them around me, heading towards the door.

  “Wouldn’t walk out that door if I were you, sister.” Poppy sing-songs and ice shoots through my veins.

  “Because if I do...?” I twist back around to glare at her.

  Seth falls back onto the bed, smirking as he watches my sister advance on me. Poppy looks a little too self-satisfied for my liking. Reaching her hand out, she lifts my left hand. Let’s her thumb circle the tattoo there. I yank it away, raising it to smack her.

  Poppy’s hand shoots out, palm out, hitting me right in the solar plexus. I gasp for air as she presses closer, smiling at me. Those pretty blue eyes of hers are empty. Devoid of any part of the girl I once knew. The girl I once loved like no one else.

  “If you do.... you force my hand. We had parts to play. All of us. You just refused to play your part right. Had to be loud and bright and different. Had to push the boundaries. For once, just fade into the background of the picture. Stand in place. Keep your mouth shut.” Poppy’s voice is glacier cold and her eyes look like they might never sparkle again.

  “I am not afraid of you. Or you,” I glare past her at my past. “Not even Father. Not now. Not ever again.” I square my shoulders and my hand is around the lever to let me out.