by Vi Carter
I keep hold of her face as I lean my forehead against hers. My cock twitches as her breath fans out across my face, her breasts are flush with my chest and my resolve is shaking.
“I’m sending you home,” I tell her.
She steps away from me, confusion etched into her pretty face.
“No.” She’s shaking her head as she speaks.
“Don’t argue with me. You’re going home.” I can’t keep her safe and she is too precious. I force as much authority into my words.
Ella looks panicked. “I’m not going home. I can’t.”
I feel like the parent who tells a kid there is no Santa. She looks devastated.
“This is not up for discussion.” I cut her off abruptly and walk away.
Glancing back, she’s still standing in the same spot.
“Ella, we have to go back.”
Her eyes are floating with her pain. I tighten my fists and march back to her.
“Please, Lucas.” She blinks and tears spill down her face.
“Stop doing that.” I close the distance between us and wipe her tears with my thumb, but more fall. “Stop it, Ella.”
I had caused this. For each one I wiped away another fell and she isn’t stopping.
“I’m trying to protect you.” I grip her shoulders.
“No! You’re trying to get rid of me.”
I released her shoulders, my hold is too tight on her and right now I can’t seem to control myself. “Do you really believe that?”
“I don’t want to go home.”
I’m shaking my head. She is bending me too easily and that in itself is dangerous. “You’re going home.” My words don’t hold as much conviction this time.
“I don’t want to leave.” She pleads. “I have friends for the first time in my life…” She trails off and my treacherous heart can’t stay and watch her cry anymore. She’s in my arms as I kiss the crown of her head. “Why can’t you just do as you’re told?” I say, but I know I can’t send her home. It’s selfish how glad I am that she fought me on it.
“We need to get back.” I feel pained releasing her.
Her eyes are red from crying but her tears have stopped.
“So, I get to stay?” her words are asked innocently and I wonder if she has any idea the effect she has on me. How easily I bend to her will.
“Yes. But Ella, no fighting with the other girls.”
Her lips form a straight line.
“Stay under the radar.” I add and she nods while my words are stoking the ambers in her eyes. She doesn’t say anything and I’m fighting a smile that I wrestle with, and then lose to.
“You look beautiful,” I tell her as I take her face in my hands. She inhales quickly before I place a kiss on her swollen lips. “We need to go back.” I repeat and drag myself away from her.
“Could we just get lost in here?” She bites her lip.
I give her a warning look. “Don’t tempt me.” I focus on leaving. Each step back to the gardens has the weight returning to my shoulders. I pause before we leave the maze completely. I can’t look at her. “This thing with us has to end now.” It’s not a thing, it’s so much deeper. It has taken root in me and I don’t think I could ever get Ella out of my system, but what I am doing is stupid and reckless. She is worth so much more than a fumble in a maze.
“It’s over,” I say as harshly as I can, before stepping out onto the lawn. I know she’s behind me and I don’t look back as I pass George and walk back to the house. It’s cruel and wrong to leave her, but I don’t know how I can ever make this right with Ella. She’s filled every space in me and I feel like I am becoming obsessed with her. It is a deadly obsession that will get her hurt and I can’t allow that to happen.
After telling Ella about Henry, it made me hate him even more. I had buried a lot of those feelings as we just coexisted in the same house, but now I just want a row.
He’s easy to find. In his attic-sitting in the chair that’s suspended from the ceiling.
“I don’t want you here,” he says without looking at me.
“I don’t want you here either. But here you are.”
His head snaps up to mine. “What do you want?”
“You and Declan were lovers.” I state.
He’s off his chair. “I already told you…”
I cut him off. “You already lied to me. You both have the same tattoo’s. His wedding finger was cut off, which means he was cheating on his wife. So with matching tattoo’s, I’m assuming it’s you.”
“I didn’t think you had a brain cell between your ears.” Henry’s words irritate me more than they should and I want to hit him.
“What does the tattoo mean?”
He sneers but it falls flat. “None of your business. It’s private.”
“You and Declan got matching tattoos.” I grin.
He hunches while looking at me. “Don’t make fun of us.”
So he was having an affair with Declan. “Did you kill him?”
“I want you to leave.” He stands to his full height, pushing his glasses up on his face. I notice the darkness under his eyes. Did they love each other? Did it matter?
“I want answers, Henry. I still have the fingers that you were getting off on having.”
“Stop being so vulgar.” His voice rises, the high pitch making his voice more feminine.
“Tell me and I’ll leave.”
“I didn’t hurt him.” He steps away from me hunched and climbs back into the chair. His movements are unnatural.
I hate being in his presence. I want to ask why he left me in the maze. Why he tried to fucking kill me.
“Why are you still here?” He asks, twirling the chair. I think about dragging him out of it and finishing what my mother started.
The thought has me leaving. At least I knew who Declan was having an affair with. Someone else knew and killed Declan for it. Maybe Henry was lying and he killed him. I wasn’t convinced by his answer.
George is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs.
“The picnic has been tidied over and Lady Ella has been returned to her room, Master Lucas.” He says this like he has told me about every date I’ve had. But this is a first. He knows I treat her differently.
“Thank you, George. I want to ask about a member who passed away.”
George holds still and nods. “Of course, Master Lucas.”
He was here from the start with my family. He must have seen every member pass through these doors. “A Sorcha Newtown.”
Something flashes across George’s face. It’s gone quickly, but I see it. Fear. Is he afraid of Sorcha?
“Yes. She was a member.” George tries to leave and that just raises my curiosity.
“Tell me about her.”
He pauses and glances around the foyer before stepping back to me. “Master Lucas, it was such a long time ago, and this old brain is tired.” He smiles.
“Just tell me what you remember.” My tone drops.
“She was a member briefly. She died. I don’t really recall much.”
I nod. “Yeah my father told me a member died thirty years ago, the same way Declan did.”
George looks away and it’s like he’s thinking. I don’t want him to think, I want him to tell me what he is holding back. I know he’s holding something back. He knows more.
“George, I will find the truth one way or another.” I step away and his old hand touches my arm, stopping me.
His eyes are filled with a past that weighs heavily on his shoulders. “Sorcha Newtown is Alex’s mother.”
“Alex Bradley?” I want to add the freak who hangs out with Henry.
“Yes, Master Lucas. He keeps his father's name, not his mothers.”
“Anything else you can tell me.”
He shakes his old head. “No, Master Lucas.”
This time when George leaves, I let him as I try to piece this together. Alex’s mother was a member and she died just like Declan. Her finger was removed, just like D
eclan. Frustration has me clenching my fists. The closer I get to this, the more questions it raises.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
ELLA
It’s been days since I saw Lucas. I’ve hovered around the house trying to get a glimpse of him, but he’s nowhere in sight. I never told him about the conversation his father had with me, or more accurate, the threat of using me to keep him on a leash.
“Please sit down Ella, you are driving me crazy.” Hannah glances up at me from a book she’s reading. I fold my arms across my chest but stop pacing.
I need to find Lucas, I need to tell him. It is a half-truth. I miss him so much. I just want to see his face. I look up now at the painting on the wall, the one I had admired on the first day here. It looks nothing like the Lucas I had grown close to. The one in the picture is arrogant and cruel. Lucas is kind and sweet.
I exhale loudly. “I’m going for a walk.”
“Every time you go for a walk, something bad happens. Just stay here,” Hannah says and Jessie laughs at her.
“That’s not true.” I fold my arms across my chest.
Hannah raises a brow.
“I’ll stay away from the gardens,” I say and leave the room before Hannah can follow me. My anxiety at not seeing Lucas is at an all-time high. My body hasn’t come down off the high that he had placed it on while in the maze.
Everything about our date left a mark on me. His touch haunted me at night time. All I want is his hands on me again. I was waking up in hot sweats. Something that never happened to me before.
His story also haunted me and it made me really see how damaged Henry is, to hurt Lucas like that. I had so many questions that I hadn’t asked. Lucas had looked so vulnerable one moment as he spoke, and the next I feared him. I wasn’t sure if he would snap. I didn’t believe he would ever hurt me, maybe not intentionally anyway.
He is volatile.
Yet, here I am still searching for him.
The yard that I step out onto is empty. I haven’t been around the back of the house. There isn’t much out here, only sheds and a decked out area that circles around half of the back of the house. I follow it and can see into the dining room. It reminds me of the day Alex was out here.
Noise of a shed door opening grabs my attention. I freeze as Lucas’s father steps out onto the gravel. He’s dressed in a suit. He doesn’t see me as he walks back to the house. What was he doing in the shed dressed like that?
Go Inside Ella. I tell myself while my feet move towards the shed. I glance over my shoulder to make sure no one sees me. The creak of the shed door has me stopping abruptly.
“Lucas,” I say his name out loud, I hadn’t intended to.
He swings around and faces me and there is a wild look in his inky eyes. Sweat coats his black t-shirt that sticks to his hard chest, but it’s his hands that have my heart stalling in my chest.
“What happened?” I’m trying not to cry. His hands are torn open and blood is oozing out of too many wounds to count.
He hasn’t answered me and I look up at him. I can’t decipher what I see on his face. He’s staring at me and I want to take a step away from him. Fear skitters down my spine.
“Lucas,” I say his name quietly.
“Go inside Ella.” He turns away from me.
I’m chasing after him. “What happened? Talk to me.”
He snaps around and fear wraps tightly around my throat, but I stand my ground. “Please.” I beg and hold my breath.
He takes my hand in his and hisses. The action causes more blood to flow. His touch is surprisingly gentle as he leads me around the back of the house.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” He won’t speak to me and that is making me more afraid. He’s angry. Is he going to punish me? I don’t pull my hand from his damaged one, so I don’t hurt his wounded hands. He circles around a hot tub and towards a set of double doors that he opens and drags me inside. I don’t have a second before he releases me and closes the door. Drawing heavy dark drapes, he plunges the room into darkness. My heart threatens to rip free from my chest. He’s breathing heavy. I can hear him.
“Lucas,” I call his name again and his steps move away from me. The room is flooded with light. Lucas is on the far side locking the main door. I glance around and take in the bedroom. My eyes dart to the black bedding. Is this his room? Lucas glares at me. He’s angry. I remain still as I take in every inch of his room, my eyes keep returning to the bed. It’s where he sleeps. I feel giddy, which is such a wrong feeling to have right now. Lucas opens another set of double doors that lead into a huge bathroom. He disappears and I can hear water running. I follow him, not wanting to let him out of my sight. I hover at the door. His wide back is bent over the sink as he washes his damaged hands. I glance at the mirror above his head and my heart pounds as my eyes meet his. I’ve never seen his eyes look so black. So raw. So violent.
“What happened?” I ask, my voice sounds strangled as I step into his bathroom. He drops my gaze and I focus on his hands. The blood keeps flowing.
“You need stitches,” I tell him.
“You shouldn’t be here.” His words send my heart skyrocketing as he says each word through gritted teeth.
I swallow and get a towel. “I think we should put pressure on the wounds to stop the bleeding.”
The water still runs, but he turns around to me. “What do I have to do to make you understand that I don’t want you here.” His words make me flinch. God, they hurt.
But he’s injured and I think this goes deeper than his flesh. “Give me your hands.” I hold out the towel. His blood drips on the white-tiled floor as they hang either side of him. Fear has me looking up at him.
A mistake. He’s barely containing the darkness that is swirling in his eyes. I drop my eyes and my heart kicks as he places his hands in the towel. I don’t waste a second, but wrap them and press down on them. He hisses.
“I’m sorry,” I don’t dare look at him.
“Why don’t you sit down on the toilet?”
I’m stunned when he follows my direction and sits down on the lid of the toilet. I’m standing bent over, holding the towel against his wounds. It’s awkward, so I lower myself until I’m kneeling. He doesn’t speak and time moves slowly. I’m taking snapshots of his bathroom. The large shower–my mind takes a nose dive to him in it and I refocus on his hands.
“I’m going to take a look.” I chance looking up at him. He’s eyes bore into me. He doesn’t look as hostile, but he’s still not friendly. I take his silence as permission to check.
The inside of the towel is red. My stomach twists. “Oh, Lucas.” His hands are a mess. I want to cry for him. He must be in so much pain. I want to ask what happened? How did this happen? Had his father hurt him? But I don’t. I swallow the tears.
“There’s a bottle of whiskey in the bottom drawer on my bedside table.” His words I drink up like he’s giving me the ingredients to a long life. He’s talking to me. I’m off my knees and in his bedroom, opening the drawer. I take out the half bottle of whiskey and return to him.
“A disinfectant,” I say.
A ghost of a smile grazes his lips. He reaches out for the bottle.
“I can do it.” I don’t want him to hurt himself any further. He doesn’t answer me but takes the bottle out of my hands. His face scrunches up in pain, but he continues to open the cap and drinks deeply from the bottle.
“Or that,” I say as I focus on his hands. A fresh wave of blood drips from them, but the flow has lessened. How he is holding anything is beyond me, the pain must be horrific. My stomach hollows as I think of all the times he’s worn gloves. Was he hiding this damage over and over again? He stops drinking and looks at me now.
“You need to leave,” he sounds drained.
“You need stitches.” I fold my arms across my chest. I know provoking him is dangerous, but I can’t leave him here like this.
He lets out a heavy sigh like he can’t be bothered fighting with
me. Standing up, he hands me the bottle and I take it from him and take a large gulp. It burns.
Lucas’s laugh is quick, but I hear it. When I look up at him he’s staring at me. His eyes are a little lighter, but also a little sadder.
Another part of me cracks open for him and something warm sneaks out, sending my heart pounding. I am falling for him, falling deeper down the rabbit hole, and I know there is no return.
Lucas reaches for his t-shirt and it slowly rises across abs and tanned skin. I can’t look away as he pulls the t-shirt off. My mouth hangs open, and I’m holding my breath as I take in Lucas’s muscular chest and wide shoulders. When I feel dizzy, I remember I need to breathe.
“I need to take a shower.”
I’m nodding, I can’t look away.
Another quick laugh has me looking up at Lucas. His eyes are even softer.
“You can wait in the bedroom. Or stay if you want.”
My heart trips all over itself as he grins at me. He tugs at the band of his trousers and I leave quickly, nearly walking into the door frame. If I stay I won’t be able to stay away from him. The water starts to run and I try not to picture him pushing down his trousers. He’s naked, only a few feet away from me.
I run my hand along his bed, the sheets soft and silky. I keep looking to the bathroom, my feet moving in that direction.
Don’t overthink it, I tell myself as I step into the bathroom.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
LUCAS
I’m all too aware of Ella in the next room. The shaft between my legs is like steel. I tighten my hand around it. The pull on my damaged knuckles is too much.
My father had another man ready for me to beat. This time I wasn’t to wear gloves; I wasn’t under the illusion that it was my punishment for having him leave Ella alone. I knew when he handed that out, it wouldn’t be easy. Beating a punch bag I could do, that’s how I thought about it. It wasn’t pounds of flesh; it had no face, it was a bag that I could unleash my anger on. This time I didn’t stop.
I wasn’t sure how much longer I could do this for; it felt like the violence was eating away at me, leaving more violence in its wake. What if I lashed out at the wrong person?