Cruel Intoxication: A Dark Romance (Underground Kings Book 4)

by Kelli Callahan

  “Grumpy,” Heaven says, narrowing his eyes before turning to walk away. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

  “I didn’t say thank you,” I say.

  “You don’t have to,” Heaven huffs, tilting his chin in the air as he saunters down the hall toward the kitchen where the food is. Not surprised. All he does is eat and sleep.

  Giving myself one last shake, I knock on Jolie’s door. I place my ear against the wall, waiting for her to answer me. “Jolie? It’s me. You okay?”

  Silence.

  “Jolie, I’m coming in, okay?” I warn her just in case she’s naked or something. I turn the handle and open the door slowly, careful so it doesn’t creak. The room is dark, the blinds are shut, and the fan is on the highest speed. It feels cooler in here than it does in the hallway. I can’t see much since the blinds blackout the entire room. I do my best to tiptoe to the bathroom to flip on the light.

  I check the area to make sure she isn’t laying dead in the tub or the shower, then walk back to the bedroom and breathe a sigh of relief when I see her in the bed. She’s cuddled up in the middle of the mattress, comforter to her chin, and holding a pillow to her chest.

  “Thank God,” I sigh, thankful she’s alive.

  Jaxon is right. She’s okay. I was being paranoid. I take a seat in the chair in the corner and close my eyes by tilting my head back. I try to think about why I’m so protective of her, and there is a list of reasons, but the main one?

  There’s something about her. She’s woken up my heart, my body, my mind. I know no longer feel dead inside. I’m not sure if it’s because she looks at me for guidance, and I feel like I finally have purpose, but to what extent? What’s this mean?

  It can’t be her.

  Not after all this time, not after what she’s been through, it can’t be her I choose to move on with.

  I lean my elbows against my knees and fist my hands together, placing them against my mouth as I concentrate. I stare at her face, her features, how small and delicate she is, yet strong. She doesn’t think she is, but she’s a damn statue in a windstorm, and she’s standing tall.

  She mumbles in her sleep, something inaudible that I can’t understand. I scoot forward, enthralled, worried, guilty for watching her sleep, but happy. She has no idea how nervous I was to come in here to find her dead.

  Saddest part, I wouldn’t have been surprised. She’s been through too much not to contemplate suicide. I thought about it after Annabeth died. I lost so much at once, and it was more than fucking pain.

  Living was torture, but no matter how much I thought about ending it all, I couldn’t because I deserved the agony.

  I hope she’s stronger than me. I hope she doesn’t punish herself and instead decides to move on with her life. Seeing her survive, running from the man I killed, it’s inspirational. She makes me want things. Things I’ve blocked out of my life for far too long. Things that I told myself I’m never allowed to want again.

  She makes me want.

  But what?

  Wanting her isn’t allowed. She has too much healing to do, but maybe we can go out on a date or something.

  Ugh, dating. I hate the thought of dating. Dating sucks.

  She mumbles again, and her brows dip together, causing a cute crease in her forehead.

  Great, now I think she’s cute.

  No, you think she’s beautiful.

  “Not good.” I rub my hand over my head, hating my damn thought process.

  “No,” Jolie whimpers, and it has my head jerking up. Her short hair tumbles down her shoulders, and the comforter drops to her chest. She flops to her back from her side, and her legs raise, tenting the blanket. “No,” she says again. “No! Get off me. Get off!” She starts to thrash, and her arms are pinned next to her head as if there’s some invisible force holding her down. There isn’t physically, but there is in her mind.

  He’s holding her down in her dreams.

  “Please!” She cries and her legs kick to protect herself, but then they flatten.

  I stand in a hurry and rush to her side. “Jolie, wake up! You’re safe. Jolie,” I say a bit louder as tears run down her cheeks. I don’t want to touch her just in case it makes things worse. It’s the last thing I want. “Jolie, come on. You’re safe. You’re here with Owen, remember? You remember me. Wake up.”

  But no matter how softly I say it, she doesn’t wake up.

  I grab the sides of her wet cheeks and hold her still. “Jolie!” I yell at her, slightly shaking her awake, and her big green eyes pop open. She stares at me like she doesn’t know me, like I’m the worst thing she’s ever seen.

  She’s seeing him.

  “It’s Owen, Jolie. It’s Owen. Remember me?” A warm wet droplet hits my thumb as she looks at me like a stranger.

  Fuck, that hurts.

  “It’s me,” I whisper softly. “You’re safe. No one can hurt you here. I’d never allow that.”

  “Owen?” my name is broken as she speaks through her fear and reality smashing together. “Owen!” She realizes it’s me, and immediately she sobs. She covers her hands with her face to hide herself.

  I wrap my arms around her and bring her to my chest, holding her, showing her comfort. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe. I’m here. I got you.” I cup the back of her head, and she buries her face in the side of my neck. Her wet lashes tickle my skin, and her hot puffs of air has condensation building up like beads of sweat. “You’re okay.” I run my fingers through her dark brown hair, and I shut my eyes as her loud sobs become heart-wrenching wails.

  I can’t do anything to help her through this process except hold her. I can be here, but I don’t feel like that’s enough.

  Her fingers clutch onto my shoulders so tight, she pinches the skin. I don’t care. I just want her to be okay.

  I can be here for her through this. I’m not away. I’m not at work. As long as I’m here, she’ll be fine.

  “I’m sorry,” she says into my ear.

  “Don’t ever apologize. I’m glad I came in to check on you when I did,” I admit, kissing her forehead.

  She sags against me, tired and probably wanting to go back to sleep after an exhausting cry. “Did everyone hear?”

  “No, just me. They told me to let you sleep, but I was worried since it’s noon—”

  “It’s noon?” She leans away, staring at me open mouthed.

  “Yes, why?”

  “I haven’t slept till noon in… I can’t remember when. I need to get up.” She wipes her cheeks on my shirt and blushes when she realizes what she’s done. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” I chuckle, wishing we were different people so I could lean in and kiss her.

  But we aren’t different people. This isn’t another world. This is the life we are dealt, and unfortunately, we met at a piss poor time.

  “How are you feeling? You okay?” I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, unable to stop myself from touching the silky chocolate strands. Now that the matted pieces are gone, I’ve never seen something that looks so soft. I want to bury my hands in the luscious locks until she falls asleep.

  God, this cannot be good for either of us. I have to stop thinking of her like I do.

  “I’m okay. Minus the nightmare, I feel better than I have in a really long time. I’m hungry,” she states, lowering her hand to her stomach as it grumbles.

  I laugh from the loud sound. For being so tiny, her stomach has the ability to sound like a grown fucking bear.

  “Oh my God, that’s so embarrassing.”

  “No, it’s good. It’s good you have an appetite, but before we go out there, you need to know the girls and guys are out there. Are you okay with that?”

  “You’ll be there, right?” she asks, biting her lip.

  That fucking sweet, innocent, pink lip that is making me want things I’m not allowed to want. I’m going to hell.

  It’s official. I’m driving the damn car in the flames of Satan. Front and center.

  If
I keep my thoughts to myself, my wants, then it’s fine. I don’t have to show her that I’m starting to think of her more than just some girl I met in the woods. So many years of being dead on the inside, so many chances for a woman to wake me up like Jolie has in a matter of days.

  Twenty years of being dormant and all it took was three days to bring me back to life.

  What is it about Jolie?

  It’s driving me insane.

  “I’ll be there. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Okay,” she says. “I think last night I was tired and—”

  “No need for excuses, Jolie. I understand. In this house, there’s nightmares between everyone. There’s no judgment here.”

  She swings her legs over the bed and stretches her arms above her head. The shirt she’s wearing rides up her side, and the pale flesh teases my eyes. I rip my gaze away so I’m not intruding on her privacy and her body. She stands and sways, and I catch her before she falls. “Woah,” she mumbles.

  “You need to eat. I’m not a doctor, but I am an army medic. You’re at least fifteen pounds underweight. Do want me to call a doctor to give you an exam? It’s probably what’s best.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” she agrees.

  I lift her into my arms, not wanting to risk her passing out as she walks. She lays her head against my chest, and it’s a touch I’ve become too familiar with, too soon. I don’t want to say she was meant for me, but damn it, it’s what it feels like.

  But Annabeth was meant for me, and I’ve only ever felt this protective over her.

  “The house is pretty, very clean and modern,” she says. “You must be rich.”

  “Um, yeah, we are. It’s a collective. We all share a bank account. The jobs we do pay well.” I don’t want to talk about finances anymore. It’s awkward because I don’t think she’s used to having money with how she grew up. I don’t want it to seem like I’m rubbing it in her face.

  I turn the corner to the kitchen to see Julia preparing pancakes and sausage. If Heaven could, he’d eat the plate.

  “Smells good,” Jolie groans in a way that my lack-of-sex mind twists into a sound that has my heart jumping in my chest.

  “Well, good morning,” Heaven greets her with syrup dripping down his chin. “I like your hair. It looks good.”

  “Thank you,” she says with hesitation.

  I place her on the barstool and grab a plate and pile it with five pancakes and four sausages. I slide the plate in front of her and prepare her a cup of coffee next.

  “I know it’s lunch time, but brunch is good too, right?” Julia asks.

  “It’s perfect,” Heaven licks his lips free of syrup.

  “It’s looks delicious, thank you, but I don’t know if I can eat all of this, Owen.” She stares at the plate and now that I look at it, it does seem a bit much.

  The pancakes nearly cover the width of her body.

  “Just eat what you can; I’ll eat the rest,” I tell her, making my own plate. “Do you like coffee? Creamer?”

  “Please, I’d love some,” she says, cutting into the fluffy pancake.

  I pour some half-and-half in the mug and then pour the coffee to the rim, sliding it over to her.

  “Hey, are you going to eat that?” Heaven probes his fork at her sausage, and I slap his hand with mine, beyond irritated.

  “What the fuck, Heaven? You’re serious? She hasn’t eaten like she should in a year and a half. Don’t be rude.”

  “What? It’s a lot of food for anyone to handle. You gave her what you eat. She isn’t a body builder. Jeez,” Heaven mumbles around his food.

  I’m starting to think he’s eating his feelings.

  I’m about to answer him when I hear a fork scrapping across the plate. Heaven and I look where the sound is coming from, and it is Jolie.

  Who is licking her plate again.

  “Damn,” Heaven says, shocked.

  I’m not surprised. She did the same thing out in the woods. She must feel our gazes because mid-lick, the syrup is thick on her tongue. She brings the plate down on the counter and clears her throat. Her cheeks are ablaze, and Jolie grabs the coffee mug, wrapping her fingers the handle. “Sorry, I know I’m not ladylike. I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t apologize,” I say sternly. “You’re hungry. Manners have no home here anyway. Have you met Heaven?”

  Heaven pauses from licking his fingers. “What? What did I do?”

  “Case in point.” I grin at her, and she blushes. “You fit right in.”

  Her long lashes flutter at her me, coy, bashful, and it makes me feel a bit shy too. Here I am, a forty-something-year-old man, acting like I’m young again.

  “Hey!” Quinn’s voice is chipper, and Jolie jumps, startled from the unexpected voice. “I’ve heard so much about you.” Quinn wraps her arms around Jolie and for a second, Jolie is terrified before those emotions well up again. “I’m Quinn—Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I should have asked if I could touch you.”

  I’m ready to be at Jolie’s side, but she smiles, which tells me I don’t need to worry.

  “Sorry. I’m not used to hugs. I wasn’t scared, it just … it felt nice,” she admits sadly. “That’s all.”

  Quinn’s chin starts to wobble, and Jaxon walks into the room right as she starts to cry.

  Fuck. One woman with tears, I can handle, but two?

  Help me.

  “What did you do to my wife?” Jaxon rushes to her side, and Quinn shakes her head, rubbing her large belly.

  “No, sorry. I’m just very emotional right now. Don’t mind me, that’s just, Jolie … that’s so sad,” Quinn sobs, turning her head into Jaxon’s chest.

  He looks so lost, looking at me for help.

  I lift my hands in the air, stumped.

  Jolie reaches a hand out and places it on Quinn’s shoulder. “Don’t cry for me. I appreciate it, but I’m okay now. Thanks to Owen and for you guys opening your home to me. I’ll probably freak out sometimes. Cry. Just ignore me.”

  “Never,” Finley says, rolling toward us on her skateboard, Grayson holding her hands so she doesn’t fall. “We never let one of our own cry. Isn’t that right, Gabriella?”

  “I’m going to die,” Gabriella screeches, inching her way much slower than Finley on another skateboard. “I can’t believe you convinced me to do this! I’m going to die.”

  “You aren’t going to die. I got you, sweetheart,” Sebastian says with a big smile on his face, trying not to laugh at his wife. She’s wearing a helmet, elbow pads, knee pads, and a pillow wrapped around her waist.

  Even Jolie snorts while she holds down laughter. She turns her head away and hides the tilt of her lips by drinking her coffee.

  “You’re so dramatic.” Finley rolls her eyes and jumps off her skateboard. “I’m Finley. You must be Jolie. Do you want to go shopping today? We should go.”

  “Oh…” Jolie tries to keep up with Finley’s enthusiasm, but I can already tell she has no idea how. “I … I don’t know.”

  “We better not go on skateboards,” Gabriella warns, and Sebastian helps her down until her feet are on solid ground. Gabriella blows out a breath. “I’m Gabriella,” she finally says, dramatically waving her hand down her body. “Don’t mind the outfit. I’m just careful.”

  “Scared,” Finley throws over her shoulder.

  “Cautious,” Gabriella tosses back.

  “Okay, ladies…” Jaxon rubs his hand over Quinn’s back, soothing her as she cries.

  Over what, I have no idea at this point.

  I sit next to Jolie and wrap my arm around the back of her chair, so it looks like I’m casual and not putting my arm around her when really, my arm is around her. “Do you want to go shopping?”

  “Will there be a lot of people?” she asks.

  “No, I’ve already called and bought out the strip for the day. The stores will be empty.”

  “You can do that?”

  “Money can pay for everything,�
� Jaxon says.

  “Right, of course,” she says as if she’s dumb.

  “Hey, don’t do that. Don’t be hard on yourself,” I say. “If you don’t want to go, we won’t.”

  “I just … I don’t have any money to pay for anything.” The rise and fall of her chest quickens, and the flicker of panic starts to burn flames in her eyes. She’s becoming jumpy. She feels caged.

  My eyes fall to Jaxon and Grayson, telling them silently to leave us alone and give us space.

  They nod and guide the girls out of the room. Julia grabs Heaven and yanks him away. “Wait, let me … one more,” Heaven reaches for one last pancake and manages to snatch it in his hands before Julia yanks him out of the kitchen.

  He salutes me, pancake to forehead before disappearing down the hall.

  “Hey, there’s no need to panic. I know it’s a lot to handle being here, but we are here for you.”

  “I feel powerless,” she says. “I can’t take your money. I haven’t earned it—”

  “Listen to me.” I take her hands in mine and rub my thumb over her scarred knuckles. “You’ve earned it. What you’ve been through, you’ve earned it. You’ve earned more than that, more than money. You don’t need to feel powerless or weak or less deserving. You have earned this, Jolie. You’ve earned safety, friends, love, A new life. You’ve earned it.”

  “Will you be there, Owen? Will you come too?”

  “If you really want me there, but I’m going to let you know, I don’t know a thing about clothes,” I warn her. “You could walk out of that place in go-go boots and a burlap sack.”

  That gets her to giggle, and she wipes the tears from her face. “I like go-go boots.”

  “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  She smiles, and seeing her happy makes me wonder if I’ll be able to keep my promise to Annabeth after all.

  Eleven

  Jolie

  I stare at the boutique that’s larger than the trailer I grew up in as we stand outside of the truck. It’s a farmer chic-type of building, and the name of the shop is in modern handwriting that says, ‘California Love.’ The beams are painted white along with the letters that make the name of the store. The board behind the letters are painted black and the windows are almost floor-to-ceiling with white trim along the edges. The door is painted a bright red, bringing a pop of color to the simplicity and elegance of the store.