Cruel Captivation: A Dark Romance (Underground Kings Book 5)

by Kelli Callahan

  “Nope,” I pop the P and lean back until I’m up against the headboard.

  “So glad I have a choice,” she says.

  I hand her a muffin while it’s still warm, then press play on the movie. “Hush and watch the movie. The beginning is the best part.” It’s a cheesy 80’s music video. The song itself is super catchy.

  She bites into the muffin and groans as the flavor bursts in her mouth. “Oh my god, that’s delicious.”

  “You understand my addiction now, right?”

  She nods as she digs in, taking big bites that are too big for her mouth, which has me thinking of other things that I’m not allowed to think about yet. She hands me the wrapper and I happily put it on the tray, then hand her the bowl of strawberries.

  Heather doesn’t ask questions and she doesn’t push the food away. She happily takes the berries from me and bites into one, her eyes glued onto the tv mounted on the wall, but my attention is glued on her. If that bastard was still alive, I’d kill him myself. I’m not a killer, but I’d do whatever I need to for her to keep her safe. I hate seeing her body bruised, her skin cut, her strength damaged and her armor kinked.

  In time I know she will heal, and her armor will be as strong and flawless as when I first saw her. She guarded herself like a knight— no— like a queen because I truly believe women are stronger than men and calling her a knight would be a disgrace.

  She doesn’t need me to help her heal, but I sure hope she wants me there for the journey because I can’t imagine being anywhere else except right here with her.

  Six

  Heather

  Watching a movie with Asher is something I never thought would happen. I could use this opportunity to talk to him about what happened all those years ago since we are alone. I’m nervous. I’ve thought about this moment in my head ever since I sent that letter while he was in prison. There were a hundred things I wanted to say, but now I can’t think of one word.

  I glance away from the tv and look at him. I mean really stare at him to see if what I’m feeling is real or if it’s all in my head. This is Asher Haven, the prominent son of Senator Mike Haven. Asher is a known playboy, a guy that couldn’t keep it in his pants for more than a day, and I never remembered him having a girlfriend. I knew he wanted me all those years ago, but what about now? Would he still want me now after what’s happened? Does he look at me the same as he did when we were seventeen? Innocent, naïve, beautiful, and reckless?

  Well, he was, I was an angel, and I know it drove him nuts that I never gave into him, but it was the self-control I had to keep a tight hold on because if I gave into him, I would have been left destroyed.

  “Oh, this is funny. It’s my favorite part,” he points to the tv with his right finger and in his other hand is the hot chocolate that he is slowly sipping. “He pops his hip for the dance, but he hurts himself.”

  I don’t laugh because I’m curious about how Asher’s mind works. How does he do it? How does he find laughter, joy, and happiness in everything he looks at or touches? He has experienced the worst of the worst in life, and he still seems like that innocent kid when he was seventeen. He has a youthful heart and it’s beautiful because so many people let the darkness get to them.

  Like me.

  I don’t know how to be like Asher. He is a special breed, the kind of man that people only come across once in their lives.

  “What?” he catches me staring at the profile of his face. He rubs his cheek with his hand and brings it in front of his face. “Is something on my cheek again? I swear, I can be the messiest eater, sometimes.”

  “No, no, it isn’t that. Your face is perfect.” Oh, I did not mean to say that. My cheeks go ablaze, and I scoot further away from him as my embarrassment triples by the second. “I meant there is no food on your face.” I can feel the blood rush to my face, and I know I look like a tomato.

  “Hey,” his finger touches my chin to turn my head to him, and I flinch. The devastation in his eyes speak a thousand words.

  “I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t hurt me,” I admit and pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around my legs. It’s a position I find myself getting into way too much. It’s safe curling in on myself. “He touched me like that, and I can’t get over—”

  He interrupts me, “Don’t ever apologize for your body’s natural reaction to keep yourself safe. It hurt, but it doesn’t compare to the pain he made you feel, so don’t for one minute apologize, okay?” he lays his hand on top of mine, and I let out a breath, relieved. “I’m going to be here for you and the day you don’t flinch away, that’s a day I know you’ve gotten your armor back.”

  “My armor?” I question, not understanding his reference.

  “It’s an internal thought I’ve had. Don’t mind me,” he says.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it, Heather.”

  A breath whooshes out me, and I shake my head, becoming emotion when the words ball up in my chest and push against my bones to be set free. “No, I’m sorry for all those years ago, for what happened with Grace. I was so angry at the world, Asher, and you were there to take the blame and the fall. The fall for something you didn’t do.”

  He inhales a sharp breath, then spins me around to face him. His brows are furrowed, pinching tight in the middle to create lines and his blue eyes swim with tears. “What did you just say?”

  A tear escapes out of the corner of my eye, and I hold back a sob, not wanting to tell him my deepest, darkest secret that I’ve carried around for far too long.

  “What did you just say?” he raises his voice and the anger vibrating the depths of his throat have me quivering, wishing I would have kept my mouth shut.

  “I know,” I whisper with shame. “I know you didn’t kill Grace. I’ve always known.”

  “You testified against me.” This time he hurries from the bed and stands, staring at me broken, lost, and in disbelief. “You testified, Heather,” he repeats, pressing his palms against his eyes. When he drops his hands to his sides, I can see the tip of his nose turn read and his cheeks have small droplets of them. When he stares at me, it isn’t with hate like I expected, but sadness.

  Complete sadness and heartbreak. I’ve taken the joy out of the happiest man on earth and broke him.

  “You knew,” he says in disbelief, running his hands through his thick hair. “I stayed in prison for six years because of that!” he roars, but this time, I don’t flinch, because I deserve this anger. I know that he has every right to be angry at me. “Why?” he chokes.

  “I was angry. You were there. I know it wasn’t right—”

  “You were angry? I was there?” He narrows his eyes at me and slams his fist against his chest and raises his voice, “You were angry! God…” he takes his hot chocolate mug and launches it through the air like a baseball. Brown liquid stains the wall, and the glass falls onto the floor in small, forgettable pieces. “Six years. I spent six years in a place that tested me, Heather. Six years. You don’t know how hard it was in there.”

  I get to my knees and walk to him across the bed, pushing away my fears, and try to reach out for him, but he steps away from me, shaking his head. “Please,” the word is layered with emotion. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. It wasn’t right. I know that. And I shouldn’t have done what I did. I’ve regretted it every day of the last six years.”

  He stays silent, unable to look at me, and places his hands on his hips.

  “Asher, what are you thinking? Please, tell me.”

  When he lifts his chin and hits me with teary eyes, I know that I’ve damaged his armor now. “Did you hate me that much? Am I that fucking dumb to not be able to see how much you dislike me?” He falls against the wall and buries his face in his hands.

  “What? No! I never hated you—”

  “—Really? You could have fooled me since you sent me off to fucking prison for six years.” The anger he has toward me has me shrinking away from him until
I hit the damp spot on the bed from when I was wet from the shower. He looks like he got struck in the face again. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m never going to hurt you. I never hurt your sister, which you know, but yet, that isn’t good enough is it? I’m just this fucking guy you don’t like because I couldn’t keep it in my pants. Well guess what? I was a single guy. I stayed single. I am allowed not to keep it in my damn pants and just because you were little miss goody goody, doesn’t mean you were better than me. It gave you no fucking right to do what you did to me. None at all. God, you are obviously nothing like I thought you were. All this time, I thought you believed I hurt her. I’m so fucking stupid. I need to get out of here.”

  “Asher—” I say his name desperately, emotion gripping my heart strings like reins, but it is failing to hold me back.

  He holds up his hand to stop me from saying anything else. “Just…don’t. I need time to wrap my head around this.”

  “I’m so sorry. Asher, I know it was wrong. Please, you have to believe me. I was so mad back then and I was mourning my sister—”

  “I was mourning her too! She was my only real friend because you know everyone in that life is fake. She was my fucking friend. She died when I found her, did you know that? I felt her blood on my hands when I gave her CPR. I tried to save her, and you tried to ruin me.”

  “I didn’t know.” I stare down at my hands and sniffle.

  “Well, now you do.” Without another word or a parting glance, he walks away from me and slams the door behind him.

  The movie still plays that damn song Asher loves to listen to so much in the background. I curl up in a ball and I thought I’d cry, but honestly, I don’t deserve to feel better and crying tends to do that. I lay my head on the pillow, my cheek sinking into the light feathers and staring out the window.

  The skies have turned grey and the trees are swaying with the promise of a storm. The waves are crashing harder into the cliff, matching the turmoil swirling inside my heart. When I was seventeen, I was a different woman. I was filled with hate and rage and after what happened to Grace, I wanted to take down whoever could be to blame.

  It isn’t an excuse for him serving six years and I wouldn’t be surprised if he never spoke to me again.

  “Hey.” The door creaks open and Jolie’s tentative voice gets my attention. I look over my shoulder to see her holding two sparkling waters and tissues. She shuts the door and stares at the wall where the hot chocolate is, and she kicks the glass pieces out of the way. There are a few pieces she didn’t get, and they crunch under her shoe. “Did Heaven do this?” she asks, stunned at the mess left in his wake.

  “Yeah,” I croak, hating that I am the one that ruined his happiness.

  Jolie sits on the corner of the bed and hands me the green bottle. I sniffle, sit up, and reach for the cold glass. It’s sweating from the condensation and it slips in my palm and falls on the bed. Luckily, the bottle isn’t open, and the water doesn’t spill.

  I wipe my cheek with my arm to dry the damn tears, but now that Jolie is here, my resolve is breaking. “He has every right to be angry with me.”

  “It isn’t like him to lose it like that. What happened?” she asks.

  I unscrew the cap and take a swig of the water. The carbonation tickles my throat and burns my nose, but it feels good when the bubbles settle in my stomach. So much has happened today. I’ve talked to more people than I have in months and a part of me wants to throw a fit and the other part of me wants to beg for touch.

  I didn’t want to accept anyone’s friendship or kindness. I wanted to wither away, but being around people like Jolie and Asher, they make me miss interaction. I’m just not ready for a lot of it and today there has been so much.

  All I want to do is sleep, but I can’t.

  All I want to do is turn back time, but I can’t.

  All I want to do is wish I told the truth sooner, but I can’t.

  “How much do you know about Asher and I?” I ask, placing the green bottle between my knees to hold it upright, but damn, it is cold.

  “He told us everything the other day. Your sister, his family, what he got charged with, and how he really cares about you.”

  “Cares about me?” I scoff and shake my head. “He doesn’t care about me, not that I really want to focus on that right now, but Asher isn’t the innocent kind of guy. He doesn’t do relationships.”

  “Yeah, he isn’t, but he has carried a torch for you for ages. I don’t think he has ever been in a relationship while I’ve known him, but he told us how long he has had feelings for you and you’re the only one I know of he has talked about.”

  I close my eyes as years of misunderstandings hit me all at once. I’m such an idiot. All those years of him wanting me, he truly wanted me. He didn’t want to use me, and if I was smart, I would have seen that because when it came to him picking up girls, he never hesitated like he did with me. “Well, I ruined any chance of that.”

  “What happened, Heather? You can talk to me.”

  “I know that,” I whisper, tucking my hair behind my ear. “I just haven’t been wanting to talk because I didn’t know where to begin, you know?”

  “I know how tough it is. I’ve been there.”

  “I don’t want to talk about what happened. I’m not ready to do that.”

  “I just wanted to come and check on you. I heard the shouting match in here and I know that is so unlike him. Even when Owen pushed him out of the glass door, Owen told me Heaven accepted his fate and forgave him.”

  “You aren’t making me feel better.”

  Jolie tosses her head back and laughs. “I’m not trying to. I’m trying to understand how Heaven got that angry. That’s proof right there how he feels for you.”

  I grab the pillow Heaven leaned up against earlier and hold it to my chest. “He told you I testified against him?”

  “He did. I’m so sorry you had to do that.”

  “Me too because when I was under oath, I lied. I’m the reason why he spent six years in prison.”

  A cloud of anger morphs her face for a split second, but then it is gone. “Why would you do that?” she asks.

  “Because I was scared, hurt, and angry. Asher was already in the hot seat, and I found him to be the easiest target. It wasn’t right. I know that. And back then, I didn’t like Asher. I mean, I did, but I didn’t like that I liked him. He was cocky, conceited, arrogant, and when I saw him covered in my sister’s blood, there was a piece of me that believe he did it, for a long time, until it was too late. I came to peace with my sister’s death and the anger fled. And I knew that what I did was wrong. I had no idea how to fix it, but I knew the truth. It’s what I told him tonight, that I knew, and he rightfully so got angry. He deserved to know the truth. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. I can’t believe I’m here out of all the places.” I swipe my cheek with my hand again, then take another drink of the water.

  “Wow.” Jolie lays down on the bed and stares at the ceiling. “Well, maybe you can reverse your testimony? What if there was a way for his record to be expunged because he was wrongfully accused.”

  I was about to ask where that left me, but that doesn’t really matter. Asher deserves to live the rest of his life of the truth that’s always been hiding under my massive lie.

  Even if it means I go to jail, righting my wrongs will be worth it.

  For Asher.

  Seven

  Heaven

  I’m not even mad, I’m fucking devastated. I’ve never been so damn broken in my entire life. Never in a million years did I think for one second that Heather knew I didn’t do that to her sister. She knew. She fucking knew all this time that I was innocent, even when she testified. She ruined me, deliberately.

  How the hell do I come back from this?

  I plop down on the beach and sink my ass into the sand. I drop the six-pack of beer beside me and lean my elbows on my knees and take in the view. I’ve never felt so low. I’m a happy fuckin
g guy, I know that. I know I wear my emotions on my sleeve and sometimes I break. I’m not one of those guys who is afraid to cry or laugh. I’ve always been like that. I don’t think it’s healthy to hold emotion inside.

  It usually makes me be the butt of every joke, but it is what it is.

  So now, I’m processing what she just said, and the immensity of it is making me feel hopeless for the first time. I love hope. It’s fucking beautiful. Having that small amount of hope flickering inside always has the good overturning the bad and isn’t that what life is all about?

  I thought so.

  But right now, my hope is dead.

  Snagging a beer from the holder, I twist off the cap and throw it in the box, then take a long drag until half the bottle is empty.

  All I can think about is Heather and what she said. God, that truth hurt. I don’t know if I can ever get over it. How do I forgive someone that did this to me? Who’s to say if she told the truth, that I still wouldn’t have gone to jail? Stewing on this isn’t good, not for a long period of time, but right now, I’m going to fucking stew.

  I down the rest of my beer and open another.

  “Been looking for you,” Owen states from behind me.

  “Well, you found me,” I sass, another thing I don’t do. Maybe Heather isn’t as good for me as I thought because she’s bringing out the worst in me.

  “You shouldn’t be drinking beer while you’re on medication.”

  “Shut up, Owen. I’m not in the mood for your shit. I know I’m not supposed to drink. I know I’m supposed to be taking it easy, but I don’t really care right now. If my stiches split, you don’t have to stitch me up again, just leave me alone about it.”

  I expect him to give me shit, to tell me off, to threaten to beat my ass, but he steals a beer and pops off the cap. He throws his arm around my shoulder, squeezes it, and shakes me a bit. “Are you okay?” he questions. “This isn’t like you.”