“That it?” I eventually ask, walking in. She sniffs and straightens herself, trying for polished again. I'm over at her and snatching her chin in my fingers before she takes a goddamned breath, not quite ready for her to feel completely safe. She isn't. Not by a long shot.
Truth or not.
She nods and blinks, fear still etched into her features. Good. She can hold onto that for a while longer. Give me time to process all this information. “All right, Hope.”
Although, I’m far from all right. I have no fucking clue what to do next, but I do know that there’s no way I could have killed Hope Winters when I hated her most, so I'm not gonna do it now.
Twenty-Two
Night draws on, and we continue to sit, me on the floor, him in a chair. The pressure in my chest is still there, a dull ache, but at least the initial fear and panic that washed across me are over. Seems my bedtime story routine was good for both of us. We both needed to hear the words spoken. I bottled them up for so long they’d become more destructive than I could have thought. And hearing them seemed to give Benjamin the perspective he needed not to kill me. At least I’m still hoping that’s the case.
I don’t press him further and let him process all that’s transpired. He looked so hurt, so angry when he realised what I was saying. It’s clear to me, even if he won’t admit it, that he has feelings for me. When I think with a logical head, that is. Not that that is easy.
My stupid, damaged heart longs for the words to come from his lips, but I don’t think that will happen. He’s too stubborn. But his actions? That’s what’s giving him away. He could have killed me for such treachery, but so far, rather than that, he's showing me that he has feelings for me. Enough so, that I don’t have a bullet through my skull anyway.
I pull myself to my feet, unsure how he’ll react to me anymore. Every time he touched me, I could feel his power, his need to let go. It coursed through him like a living being.
“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” My words are gentle, like testing the water with your big toe before plunging into the bath. He barely looks at me, staring at the empty fireplace instead.
“Tell me why you flipped the other night,” he says, far too calmly.
“Flipped?” I reply, confused.
“Yeah, shouting, demanding shit from me. What set you off?”
I think about all the moments leading up to that, and how I can explain it in a way that Benjamin will understand. Honesty is my only defence, and I’m sticking to it. “Not telling you about the Canes, hiding my motives and what I've done has been eating away at me. Little by little at first, until it became so overwhelming. They were so close. I could finally see what I’d always thought I wanted. Yet it took them to be here, in front of me, to realise what I really wanted. Plus, everything I felt for you and the thought of you in danger at my hand. You were out nearly getting killed. You started shutting me out. I panicked. I was distraught. I didn’t know what to do.”
He’s silent for a while, playing things over in his mind.
“You told me the truth expecting me to kill you.” It’s a statement and not a question.
“Yes. I know you. How important trust is. And I knew I’d ruined that, but I couldn’t not tell you the truth. I had to put it out there or it would have only made things much, much worse.” My fingers knit in front of me, unsure how to make him understand. “The opportunity that they presented by being so close morphed into this horrible web that I couldn’t untangle without hurting you further. Anything I thought I could do to them would hurt you. I didn’t want that. I never wanted that and so you won. You won over them.” He finally turns to look at me.
“Even if it meant I’d kill you?” The truth of those words hits straight into my stomach again, warning me of who he still is.
“I had to take the risk. What have I got without you?” I try to make my voice sound matter of fact, but it comes out sad and woeful. My eyes flick to him, hopeful now we're discussing this without his anger haunting the room so intently. Although, that calm could easily evaporate into thin air. “I’m sorry.”
“Damn it, Hope.” He rises, practically throwing the chair back with his force before storming towards me.
I scramble up from my position and wait for him to reach me. There are no more words left to say. No more tears. I need to meet Benjamin head on.
“I’m so fucking pissed at you. Do you know what you’ve done? What you’ve done in here?” He pats his chest. His body hums with violent threat, jaw tense, his body primed, but I won’t turn away.
The searing kiss comes from nowhere. Benjamin’s hands tangle painfully in my hair and hold me still as his mouth works over mine. The kiss is filled with raw need, his lips demanding my submission and surrender. Instead of questioning his actions, I give in. I let him in and give him anything he wants.
He senses the change in me and presses harder against me, grasping me and carrying me over the broken fragments on the floor to a clearer area. His fingers tear into the fabric I’m wearing, shredding it. His lips lift from mine and his eyes, black like the night, eat me up.
For a second, he waits. It feels like an eternity, anticipating what he’ll do. Fear brushes over me at what he might do in this state. I’ve endured a lot at his hands, been the outlet he needs, and I sense this will be similar.
But I’ve come to crave him, crave his contact, because when he takes me, when he gives himself over to the raw passion, I get a part of him that no one else does. And I need that now. I need to be as close as possible, and my fingers itch to travel over his skin as he uses mine.
Before I can walk toward him, he stalks to me, his hands grabbing at the remaining fabric covering my body. I battle against him to reach his own clothes, tearing and frantic to get to his skin. Having permission to do this isn’t something that is freely or often given, but I’ve broken all the rules already.
We battle until I’m naked and Benjamin is shirtless but still has his pants on. He pushes me back, attacking me and wrestling me to the ground. His lips consume me, plundering my mouth as he bites and licks over my lips, chin and neck. Each bite is both pleasure and pain, and only sets the lust burning hotter.
My hands continue to fumble with his belt and zipper, and he finally allows my fingers to win in their quest. He crawls over me, prowls over my body, nudging my legs wide to allow him access.
He captures my hands and plants them over my head, pinning me to the ground. My shoulder screams in protest but I don’t cry. I take everything Benjamin wants to give.
“Do you know how much of me you had, Hope?” he growls as his hard cock nudges at my entrance. Before I answer, he surges forward, entering me on one harsh jerk. My whole body shudders at the intrusion, pain coursing through me. “In my world you were as close as anyone gets.”
Another flex of his hips, spearing me and pinning me under him, holding me prisoner to whatever he wants.
He rears up onto his knees, releasing my hands, and grips my hips to yank me down onto him. The fucking is as forceful as it gets, and all it does is feed my raging blood with a raw pleasure that ignites low in my belly.
“Don’t you fucking dare. You don’t get to come. And keep your hands away,” he hisses at me, dropping my hips as he leans over me again. His hand traces up the edge of my body and rests at the base of my throat. He smiles down at me and his fingers begin to close. Tighter and tighter until my breathing is constricted and my heart hammers in my chest from more than the fucking he’s giving me.
“There’s the fear I want to see.” My arms ache to grab his arm, to scratch at him to release the pressure. But as his hips set a wild pace, my body is overridden with the passion I see in his eyes. The fear morphs into something I can’t describe. His hand squeezes tighter, his fingers digging in further as I fight to allow him unrestricted access to my body.
“Fuck! Fucking hell. . .” He pounds into me, pushing my body against the floor, and my skin cuts and scrapes under his pressure on the remaining
debris.
“I’m going to come.” I can’t hear my voice, but it wheezes out of me as a tidal wave of pleasure threatens to wash everything other than Benjamin away.
The slap to my face brings me straight back to his eyes. Dead eyes. “You don’t get to enjoy this. You ruined us. Hear me? I fucking hate you.” He releases his hand and I gasp loudly as I pull air into my lungs.
His hands return to my hips and use me for the leverage he needs. It’s both the most intimate he’s been and the most terrifying. I’ll be bruised tomorrow, both internally as well as the ones visible to his eyes. But I don’t care. I’m alive and will do anything to keep Benjamin in my life.
“Hope!” he roars as he climaxes, sending my body spiraling to oblivion. “Fuck you,” he growls out, gripping me tighter “Fuck you.”
The pain is dull as it pulses through my body. I focus on his eyes, desperate to remember the man I love. If he can’t say what he feels for me with words, I’ll listen to his body, and perhaps hear his heart.
I wake to a room filled with light. My eyes focus and find the clock on the dresser.
Where are we? It’s after one in the afternoon. I must have blacked out. I sure as hell needed the sleep. Flickers of memory flash before me—of the confession, the fight, the sex. I don’t remember making it upstairs. Benjamin ravaging me on the floor is the last thing I recall.
He’s sitting up in bed next to me, lost in thought as he stares out at the ocean. My eyes trace the tattoos on display above the covers, beautiful artwork layering contours and ridges I know so well.
“Hey,” he mutters without turning to me.
“You’re still here?” It’s a dumb question because clearly he is. I'm just shocked. I don't know what I expected. Hell, after last night, nothing was set.
“As are you.”
“Don’t you need to get back?”
“No.”
I bite my lip, holding the question inside before I roll my eyes at myself and let it out. “Do I need to stay here when you leave?” I don’t know how things stand between us now. Last night was…powerful. Needed. But that doesn’t mean that we're suddenly all okay. Not by a long shot. I know him too well to take anything for granted.
“No.”
His monosyllabic answers are starting to frustrate me. They don’t give me nearly enough information.
“Are you going to elaborate on anything?”
“No.”
“Do you have a plan of what we’re going to do?”
“No.”
“Benjamin.” I pull the covers back and twist so I can get in front of him. “Talk to me. Please.”
“What do you want me to say?”
All of the scenarios and possibilities that crossed my mind while hiding out here and now, I'm at a loss for what to say. Or I'm too scared to push my luck any further. But, if I'm going to return, still going to be with him, everything needs to be on the table.
“I can’t take the hot and cold. One minute I’m at your side, the next I’m shut out, or worried about what you’re doing or how I should be acting. Things are different now. At least for me.”
He pushes out of the bed and strides to the French doors without answering, opening them to get away from me. I follow him out onto the balcony, wrapping the sheet around myself. “Please, Benjamin. I can't…” His hand comes up, stopping my mouth instantly.
“You were the one person I thought I could trust,” he says, still staring away from me. “Don’t think, for one fucking second, Hope, that you can walk your sweet ass back into that position quickly.”
“No, I know. I have to prove myself to you.” My fingers dare reaching for his face, gently tipping it back towards me. He stiffens but does finally look at me. “And I will. I want to. But I won’t be shut out. I want to live my life for me now. And that means I choose you.”
The flick of his cheek out of my fingers proves that this is far from complete. He scowls and tries to move away from me again, but I get in front of him before he gets a chance. “Not just because you are a means to an end, but because I love you, despite everything. Being there for you is what I want. To be who you need me to be. For us. Including all the mess that comes with it.”
I hold my breath and wait for his response, no understanding of how this is going to play out. If this had been before Cane and all that's happened, I’d have held all of that inside, asked what Benjamin’s plans were and then made arrangements to support him in whatever way he needed. Stayed quiet, accompanied him, been seen with him, or let him use me to get the information or access he needed, but not now. I won’t be left out on the details around his life that affect me anymore. Maybe this new me is a huge gamble, one I want to pay off more than anything else. Regardless, I just hope that with my confession out there now, Benjamin might find the capacity to forgive. The question of how the Canes will fit into all of this is left on my tongue. There’s too much between us to resolve before pushing for further answers just yet.
He doesn't reply at all. Nothing. He just stares until it becomes uncomfortable again, his eyes boring into mine.
“Have you had anything to eat?” I ask, not knowing what else to say.
“No. Could use some coffee.”
“It’s the afternoon?”
“And I’ve still not had a fucking coffee this morning.” The comment is aggressive, angry again.
I shake my head and move away from him to slip on my clothes and head downstairs. He's still so angry. I can feel it in his body language. And in the light of the day, as I turn into the lounge, I can see the carnage that Benjamin unleashed last night. It looks like a storm blew through the house. There’s a table overturned, a smashed mirror, remnants of vases and pictures scattered on the floor. Such chaos. Not unlike us at the moment, I suppose.
I pick my placement carefully to avoid cutting my feet further than I scraped my knees last night and make it to the kitchen to set the coffee up. Last night is a haze. I remember Benjamin being furious, being shocked and… hurt. I tilt my gaze around the room. It could so easily have been me on this floor, broken and left in shattered pieces for someone to sweep up. It’s a sobering thought.
Before I pour us two coffees, I sweep up what I can from the floor. The broken furniture will need to be replaced. I hope Benjamin didn’t break anything that’s been in his house since childhood. The things from his past should be protected. Cherished. I have nothing from mine. I grab out at some old shells that were on the side, carefully putting them back where they were, and then twist the ring around on my middle finger. I’ve got no photographs, no possessions other than material items such as clothes, that are really mine. I'm empty of cherished memories. Desolate without the love my brothers must have had. And now, after what I've done, I don't even know if the life I'm in is secure.
Sadness swallows me, as if the darkness I’ve been fighting to keep away from suddenly breaches my defences and rushes to the surface to pull me under. For a moment I’m consumed with the grief of my mother, of the childhood that Cane denied me, of a family they denied me.
“I’ll be back later. What’s the problem?” Benjamin’s words stir me, lifting me out of my sadness. “We can meet next week, Quinn. There’s no rush now. The Yakuza aren’t a threat. They'll back off. Your problem is taken care of.”
I listen and take all the information in, noting how Benjamin isn’t hiding any of the words or details. “She might not. She’s got nothing. Nothing, Cane. I don’t care who she is. She’s not going to rise from the fucking ashes. Not after the message I've left for them.”
I move to the kitchen and pour the coffee I came down here for, trying to stay out of his way.
“Shut the fuck up, Cane. We’ll deal with Hisa. But I’m not doing it today. I've got other shit to deal with.” The last of the words sting, but at least I mean more than they do.
He throws the phone onto the chair and comes to fetch his coffee.
“Trouble?” I ask, thinking about the mess he was
in the previous night.
“No. Cane getting his panties in a twist. Needs to calm the fuck down.”
“Will you tell him?”
“About?”
“Me. Being their sister. And about. . .” My words trail off.
He pauses, bringing his cup to his mouth. His gaze rushes over my face as if he’s checking I’m still the same woman.
“No. We don’t tell them anything. You do.”
“I'm. . . I'm not sure if. . .” His brow furrows, undisclosed emotions stored inside his eyes. “It's just—” He grabs at my chin, lifting it so he can stare down at me.
“You will tell them, Hope,” he mutters. “You will tell them you're their sister only, and then we'll see how that shit plays out. The rest of the. . . information stays with me.” Treachery, he means. He flicks my chin away and walks out onto the deck, eyes tilted back at me over his shoulder. “Tomorrow night, yes?”
I nod. Yes.
We don’t speak for much more of the day. As much as I love the house, I hate seeing it so messed up. “Benjamin, do you have someone who takes care of this place? Can I arrange for them to come in and fix some of the damage?”
“I’ll see to it.” His phone has been glued to his hand for the rest of the afternoon. We’ve barely eaten, and after the last few days, my muscles and body are screaming at me to nourish them. My legs are restless. I’ve not run for the past couple of days, and I can feel it.
“The hell are you hovering around me for?”
“I’m sorry. We’re kind of in unusual territory.”
He looks at me, a frown coming, and then turns away to look out through the window towards the drive.
“Go for a run, Hope. The beach is safe. We can head back to the city later on. Get something to eat and then face the world tomorrow.” It sounds like a perfect plan, one that makes a small smile come to my face for the first time since I've been here. “Because tomorrow night I’ll need you back to the woman I can depend on. And Cane will be there. You'll need to hide everything that happened between us here.” He swings back to face me, coffee rising to his lips. “Bury it as if you never told me. Understand?”
Vengeful Eyes: A Cane Novel 3 Page 22