As the priest speaks, I bow my head and pretend this is my own funeral. Instead of seeing Luca in that casket, it’s Shiloh Blackard. She didn’t run away from home and lose her voice. She simply ceased to exist.
I say goodbye to the girl I used to be. I am Shiloh Moore now, no longer a prisoner. Shiloh Moore dances and loves the ocean. She is the girl on Pierce’s arm.
The clenched hand closest to me relaxes and drops to my leg. I shiver and stare ahead as his fingers slowly brush up my thigh until they reach the hem of my dress. He continues along the path, up and down my leg when the priest starts to speak.
I can barely pay attention, but I don’t dare move. His touch is probably more comforting to himself than it is for me. It doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it or I’m unaffected by his fingers on me.
Cyrus is behind me. I can feel his eyes burning into the back of my head. My every movement will be analyzed and reported back to my dad no doubt. If he leaves without me, that is.
“Luca’s sister, Maria, wanted to say a few words,” the priest announces.
My attention is on her when Pierce grabs my hand and pulls me from my seat. I’m dragged behind him, down the aisle near the wall to the back of the church, so quickly I wonder if anyone even noticed us fleeing. I think we are leaving, but he pulls me past the doors and down a long hall. It’s empty and I hear Maria’s soft voice echoing in the distance. Pierce swings open a door and tugs me inside. It’s dark but I see a desk and a couch and a bookshelf lines one wall. All of that disappears when Pierce turns around and looks at me.
The guilt and pain staring back at me chokes me. There’s a storm of hatred and self-loathing brewing inside him. He watches me as I slowly step back, nervous of the intensity I see in his eyes.
“I need you,” he whispers. “Now.”
chapter eighteen
pierce
THE SMALL OFFICE is dusty and smells like old books. Shiloh’s wide eyes search mine, trying to figure me out.
You see, there isn’t much to me right now. I hurt. I am angry. I need it all to stop.
She sucks in a breath, the noise loud in the silence as I stalk toward her. For every step forward I take, she takes one back. When she hits the desk, I catch her, gripping onto her hips.
I lost count of all the reasons this is a bad idea, but I don’t give a shit right now. I want the one thing I can’t stop thinking about having.
“You make me weak.” The words come out a growl as my lips hover over hers. “I can’t fight a war and fight you too.”
My mouth clashes with hers. Shiloh grabs my tie, pulling me closer so our chests touch. She tastes like bananas and red wine. My fingers crawl down her thighs, gripping the hem of her dress.
I pull away suddenly, staring down at her panting and confused. Our eyes meet and I see how much she didn’t want me to stop.
Like me, she’s lost her fight against this. Weeks of resisting and pulling back have worn me down. I need her too badly to walk away.
“Dammit, Shiloh.”
She makes me lose control.
I lift up her dress and shove her panties to the side before lifting her up onto the desk. She gasps as I pull her closer to the edge and step between her spread knees. Her blue eyes darken as I unbuckle my belt and tear open a condom. Her tongue darts out to lick her lips, and I moan with impatience. I feel like the only thing that will soothe the sting is being inside her.
I don’t ease into her. We don’t kiss as I slowly work myself deep inside. No. I impale her. One harsh and powerful thrust, and I take her. Her head falls back and my mouth opens like she is screaming. I curse, resting my forehead on her shoulder.
“Fuck. I wish I could hear you screaming my name,” I groan in her ear as my hand skims over her slender throat. I feel the muscles trying to let sound out.
She clenches around me, the pain and pleasure controlling my body. It’s perfect. All thoughts flee my mind except this girl under me. My lips kiss any skin I can reach as I run my hands over her breasts, neck, and thighs. I want to touch it all, but I’m too far gone to take my time. None of it is enough.
Her necklace snaps, scattering pearls, when I pull the dress away to get at her breast. Shiloh’s fingers weave through my hair as I pull a nipple into my mouth. Her hips rock into me as I lick and kiss her.
She takes my anger and hurt. She accepts it all. Her teeth rake against my skin as I reach deeper inside her. Her lips chase away the slight sting she leaves behind.
“I’ve wanted to do this for too long. So tight and hot. Ready and wet.”
I feel her tighten around me as her breathing quickens. Her legs are trembling around my waist, pulling me closer and deeper. I wrap my hand in her hair, tugging it back until her eyes connect with mine.
“Don’t close them.”
I want to hear her screaming my name as she comes. I want her to tell me she wants it harder, faster, begging me to never stop.
I have to look for it in her deep blue depths. Instead of the sound of her moans, I am urged on by how deep she digs her fingernails into my shoulders. I use the trembling of her body and the redness of her skin as my cues.
I fuck her harder as I chase my own orgasm. Her eyes fall closed as she comes, her jaw dropping and her legs clamping around me. She’s so tight, I come right behind her.
Neither one of us moves, still clinging to each other until our breathing and our hearts slow. When I pull out, I kiss her softly on the mouth. It’s so different from moments ago that it even shocks me.
I help Shiloh off the desk, and she straightens my tie.
“Did I hurt you?” I ask her, trailing a finger over a red mark on the top of her breast.
She shakes her head, cheeks reddening as she adjusts her dress. I stare down at her, waiting to see the regret or shame but I don’t. Glaring, she raises her head, as if challenging me to apologize.
That’s right, you just fucked me in a church at a funeral.
My lips pull into a smirk, and she smiles.
“You are trouble, Shiloh Moore,” I tease her.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I glance down to see a text from Hans. It seems the service is wrapping up.
“Showtime, babe.”
I take a deep breath before stepping back into the corridor. The light is bright, and I blink to adjust. I want to turn around and stay in that dusty office with Shiloh because in here, with her, I don’t feel the guilt and hate slowly wrapping around my cold heart again.
Shiloh is keeping me human.
Maria stands just outside the doors, saying goodbye to guests as they leave.
I don’t know what she said in her speech. I couldn’t hear it, but I know she blames us. She said as much when I called to give her the news. There wasn’t anything she could say to me that I haven’t already thought myself. I already hurt too deeply to let her cut me any deeper. I wanted to rip out my own heart as I sat in that pew. Anything to make it stop hurting. Shiloh is the only thing that has calmed me.
I’m done hurting and ready to get my cousin the justice he deserves. Rid myself of the guilt that tears me up.
“Wait here,” I whisper to Shiloh.
I go to find Hans and my father. I get stopped by a few old friends and by the time I make it back to Shiloh, she has company.
When I catch her gaze, I know something is wrong. She looks like she has just seen a ghost.
Her cheeks that were just pink have lost all color. Her lips that were swollen from my mouth on hers are now translucent.
Before I know it, my feet are moving. I place myself between Shiloh and one of the last people I expected to see here.
Cyrus Stone. Right-hand man to Marcus Blackard.
“You have a death wish?” I hiss through clenched teeth.
He shakes his head.
“Not at all. I came on the behalf of Marcus Blackard,” he says. “He extends his sympathy and condolences.”
“Sympathy?” I manage to say. My hand tightens on his, and I
want nothing more to pound it into his smug face. He steps closer.
“Also to tell you we didn’t do this.”
I let out a bitter laugh and raise an eyebrow at him. Why the hell would I believe that? If it wasn’t against the rules, I would kill him here and now.
We may live on the other side of most laws, but there’s an unwritten rule: you don’t kill at a funerals or weddings.
“Blackards own up. Marcus is a show off,” he says.
He has a point, but I don’t believe they had absolutely no part in my cousin’s death. Marcus likes drama and making a statement. In fact, Cyrus being here is probably a message as well.
“What did you say to my girl?”
His eyebrows raise. “Your girl? I was just introducing myself.”
He looks at her like she belongs to him. His gaze is possessive and it ignites a whole new anger inside me. I don’t like the way his eyes roam her body. A body that I just had wrapped around mine. While Shiloh looks terrified of him, he looks like he just found something he lost.
“She doesn’t speak so it’s best if you leave her be.”
Cyrus stares back at me, bouncing his gaze from Shiloh back to me. He wants to say more. I can almost see the words on the edge of his tongue, but he swallows them down.
“Here’s my card. We should talk later. I have an opportunity for you.”
I take the card but offer no promises. He is lucky I don’t tear him to pieces today. It doesn’t matter if he didn’t pull the trigger.
Cyrus takes a step back and bends a knee, picking up something from the floor.
“This must be yours, miss.”
Shiloh’s hand shakes as she holds it out. Cyrus drops the tiny pearl in her palm, looking at her neck as he does it. In the silence, the quiet sound of another pearl can be heard.
We all watch as another pearl rolls out from underneath the office door and stops in front of his shoes. His jaw ticks before he turns and walks away.
“Get her out of here,” I tell Hans. “Don’t leave her side.”
He nods and escorts Shiloh out the front doors that are opened to the street. Limos and cars wait in a line for the procession to the cemetery. Hans helps Shiloh into our limo then follows behind her.
Once I feel she is secure, I join my dad again. The crowd has dwindled down to only a few people. I trust Hans to keep her safe. Lately, he has been more protective of her than I have.
Soon, I’m left alone with Maria. Her eyes are red and swollen from crying. The grief and anger weighs on her whole body. I can see it. I wish I could take it all away for her. She brushes past me without a word.
We are quiet and solemn at the cemetery where we watch the casket get lowered into the ground. When it’s over, my family scatters silently.
I join Hans and Shiloh in the waiting car, exhausted from the day. Shiloh is sleeping on the bench seat across from me. For a moment, I want to lie with her, sleep through the rest of this shitty day.
We pull away from the cemetery, passing Cyrus as he walks to a waiting car.
“He wanted her,” I tell Hans. “Or he knew her.”
“I gathered that much.” He glances over to where Shiloh is sleeping, a pensive look on his face.
I brought Shiloh with the purpose of exposing her. I hoped someone would see her with me, draw out whoever is looking for her. I’m not sure I like the answers.
There are seven families loyal and dependent on the Blackards. Each family has their own power and business but rely on Marcus. The Stones are one of them. She could be from one of the seven as well.
We are silent as we cut across town to the airport. My hands itch with the need to hit something. Everything I worked out on Shiloh is coming back, growing like a mold inside me.
“That was stupid. What you did today at the church,” he says, like he knows I’m already thinking about doing it again.
I glare at him. Hans has been by my side for as long as I can remember, but he rarely gives me advice on anything personal.
“You complicated things. What if you need to trade her? Or she runs?”
I look at Shiloh. Her face is calm and relaxed as she sleeps. I remember how her heavy breaths sounded in my ear and how her nails dug into my skin. How can something that felt so good be wrong?
I don’t like the idea of trading her anymore for some reason. When I think about Cyrus Stone putting his bloody hands on her perfect skin, I want to bury him.
“She’s from the west. You think she can stay in the east?” Hans adds.
I feel some of the tension leave my body as we pull into the airport. My plane waits for me. Once I’m home, I can plan and get justice for my cousin.
“If there is no one left to rule the west, then it doesn’t matter.”
I reach over and gently shake Shiloh awake. Her wide blue eyes lock on mine, and I forget what I was about to say.
Her eyes are so expressive, sedating me with their emotion. That spark of heat flashes in them, drawing me closer. Maybe Hans was right because now that I know what is like to have her, I want it more.
Weeks of sexual tension and close calls finally reached their climax in an explosive way. When we were connected, I felt nothing but her. It’s a feeling I want to chase. She is the most dangerous drug.
chapter nineteen
shiloh
WAKING UP TO the sounds of the ocean is a welcome change. I stretch my body, sore from traveling. Leaving for Miami feels like weeks ago. The day on the yacht is almost a distant memory.
I stare up the ceiling, inhaling the salty air drifting in through the open windows. I wonder how much longer I can enjoy this ocean. When I saw Cyrus yesterday, I felt the timer running out. I’m on borrowed time because there is no way my father won’t come for me now. Like all secrets, I will soon be uncovered. Nothing can stay hidden forever. I’m balancing on a tightrope and I am going to fall. I just don’t know to which side. Will Pierce save me if I drop? Will my father punish me for my betrayal?
The way Cyrus looked at me will forever be burned into my memory. On the surface I saw the shock and confusion, but it quickly morphed into relief and excitement. Deep down I saw the hurt. I had betrayed him.
He asked me if I was okay, but I couldn’t answer. Even if I had my voice, I didn’t know how to answer him. When he asked if I was hurt, I managed to shake my head but only out of fear he would cause a scene if he thought I was hurt. He reached for me like he was going to pull me into his arms, but I pulled away. I hate the flash of hurt I caused. Cyrus had once been my best friend. I loved him … but not enough to go back home.
I drag myself out of bed and to the balcony. I touch my finger to my throat where the pearl necklace once was. I didn’t care when Pierce tore it from my body, along with my dress. I wanted nothing between us.
When I saw that stupid bead rolling from under the door, my stomach dropped. Cyrus looked at me and knew the truth. I watched as his eyes roamed my bruised lips and tangled hair. He knew what happened in that church office. What he didn’t know was that it wasn’t just a quick fuck. It wasn’t making love either.
Catharsis: (n.) the purging or release of emotional tensions.
Every thrust was filled with his anger and grief. It was beautiful pain. He was using me as punching bag, letting out his pain. I am to Pierce what the ocean is to me.
“Shiloh?”
I turn to see Pierce standing in my doorway. He looks like he’s been awake for hours already, and I wonder if he even slept yet. His shirt is rolled up to his elbows, showing off flexed arms as his hands clench into a fist then release. It’s something I notice he does when he’s uncomfortable.
“The plane is going to takeoff in an hour,” he says as he walks further into my room.
I cock my head to side as he looks anywhere but at me.
“I want you on it.”
I shake my head, refusing. When he finally make eye contact, I see the conflict.
“I am giving you an out, Shiloh. This is
your one chance to leave before it’s too late.”
He starts to pack my things, but I don’t move. None of it is mine anyway. I don’t want it. When he reaches for my nightstand where my broken shells are, I lunge forward and place myself between him and the open drawer.
No.
We stare at each other, breathing hard but standing strong. His glare drops to my lips for just moment.
“Everyone close to me gets hurt,” he whispers. “You stay, you will get hurt.”
He pushes off me and walks to the balcony.
“I made someone a promise that I would do anything they wished in exchange for my life. I used to pride myself in keeping my word. I may be a high-end criminal, but I am worth my word.”
He lets out a bitter laugh and turns back to face me.
“In effort to keep that promise, someone I loved was killed. I can’t keep my promise to her.”
He stalks toward me, his strides long and powerful.
“I can’t promise I won’t fuck you again, that I won’t use you like I did in that church. I can’t promise I will even be nice, and I know I can’t promise to keep you safe.”
My heart hammers in my chest.
“I’m in the middle of a war, babe. I am fighting for territory, for revenge, for a fucking woman I can’t even remember. You want to be caught in that crossfire?”
“I can promise I will avenge Luca’s death. And I can promise that you will probably get hurt if you stay here with me.”
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth. I could leave now but where would I go? Back home? Somewhere different without a voice or any idea what I’m doing?
I sit on the bed and cross my legs. I’m not going anywhere.
Pierce sighs and clenches his hands into fists again. I watch the tendons move in his arms and get a sick pleasure that I unnerve him like he does me.
“Look at me.”
I obey his command like I always do.
“Those eyes kill me every time, you know that? Not just because they are beautiful, but because of what you say to me with them.”
Wordless Page 10