by Penelope Sky
Truth
Betrothed #10
Penelope Sky
Hartwick Publishing
Hartwick Publishing
Truth
Copyright © 2020 by Penelope Sky
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
One
Heath
The first week was a blur because I purposely blocked it out.
I felt like shit—worse than shit.
At week two, I still felt like a bag of broken bones, but there was major improvement from the week before. I could get through the night without waking up in pain. I could walk without wincing. I could carry myself like a man, make myself a sandwich without relying on Catalina to do it for me.
But I still had a long road ahead of me.
I walked into the living room a few weeks after coming home and saw Balto sitting there, his elbows on his knees as he watched the TV.
“You just come and go as you please now?” I didn’t walk at my usual pace, taking my time getting from one spot to the next, feeling the ache of my broken ribs on my right side. I made jokes to Catalina about the whole thing, but I’ve never been in so much pain…and I would never tell her.
Balto looked up at me, his eyes narrowed. “Now you know how it feels.”
I opened the cabinet and grabbed the bottle of vodka.
“Catalina isn’t here, is she?”
I poured it into a glass. “No. She’s out.”
“Just because she’s not here doesn’t mean you’re going to get away with that.”
I looked at him over my shoulder.
He nodded. “Put it back, Heath.”
“Come on. One glass—”
“Put it back, or I’ll tell her.”
I rolled my eyes and did as he asked. “Fucking tattletale…” I shoved everything back into the cabinet and grabbed a glass of water instead. “I’d offer you something, but if I can’t drink, neither can you.”
“That’s fine with me.”
I lowered myself to the other couch, groaning with the movement.
“How do you feel?”
“Better.” I rested my cheek against my curled knuckles, looking at the TV in front of me. I was used to being shirtless all the time, but since I looked so terrible, I tried to hide it from Catalina. My face was better, starting to resemble my old features. “So, how’s the office?”
“You made Vox a blood traitor?” he asked.
“Oh yeah.” I dragged my fingers across my jawline, feeling the shadow of hair because I hadn’t shaved in weeks. My skin burned slightly at the touch. “Forgot about that.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve got a lot more on my mind—”
“No. Why did you mark him as a traitor?”
“Because he organized a coup with Damien.”
Balto never told me how to run the Skull Kings or lead. He bowed out and let me have the reins without question. But judging by the expression on his face, he didn’t agree with that at all. “You should have killed him, Heath. That’s a killable offense.”
“I know. But I’d just shot one of the guys…wasn’t popular at the time. I thought that would redeem me—and it did.”
Balto didn’t agree. “He’s going to keep coming after you—”
“The reason he’s difficult is because he wants the throne for himself. Now that he can’t possibly have that—ever—there’s not much point anymore.”
“Or he’s going to kill you for taking away the one thing he actually cares about.”
I shrugged. “Balto, it’s done. Nothing we can do about it now.”
He shook his head slightly as he rubbed his palms together.
“No one has figured out it’s you and not me?”
“No.”
“Wow. I’m not sure if that’s flattering or insulting.”
He watched the TV for a while. “Your ban on slavery is unpopular, even though it seems to be transitioning as well as it possibly could. But you stopped taking money from Damien, and they’re starting to ask questions. Are you going to resume that?” He turned back to me.
“No.”
His eyes narrowed again.
“I’m not sure where we stand right now, but I’m not going to undo all the work I did by pissing him off again.”
“And how will you explain that to the men?”
“Why do I have to explain anything at all?” I snapped.
He rubbed his palms together again. “A good leader rules with respect, not fear.”
“I’m not threatening them. I just don’t need to explain this.”
“Do they know about Catalina?”
“Only Steel does.”
“Well, if they ever figure out you made all these changes because of a woman…” He bowed his head and looked at the floor. “That’ll be bad news. They pull the throne out from underneath you.”
“Not gonna happen. I’ve always kept Catalina a secret.”
“But are you going to continue to be the Skull King?” Balto asked. “Now that you got what you want with her, how is that going to work?”
“It’s going to work exactly the way it did before.”
“But you were a secret before. Now this is real, right?”
I shrugged. “Honestly, she and I haven’t talked about it, but yes, I assume so.”
“Where is she?” He looked over his shoulder, as if she was standing right behind him.
“With Damien, actually.”
He faced forward again and nodded. “I’m just saying…you can’t have both.”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Because your woman will always be in danger.”
“Not if I never admit she exists.”
He got that annoyed look on his face, the same look he’d worn since we were kids, like he was frustrated with my simplicity. “You’ll see what I mean…”
“Not every relationship is the same, Balto. Your retirement was the right decision for you and Cassini. But Catalina and I are different.”
He turned to me, his blue eyes still. “What if she asked you to step down?”
“Today? This very moment?”
“Just in general.”
I hadn’t really thought about it. Our future had been so hazy since the beginning. Even now, I wasn’t entirely sure where we stood. She wouldn’t have rescued me unless she wanted to be with me, but I wasn’t sure if she’d changed her mind about marriage. “Depends.”
“On?”
“If it was going to last forever, I guess I would.”
That seemed to be the answer Balto wanted, so he dropped the conversation. “I’ll keep this up as long as you need. Take your time getting better.”
“I’ll be as good as new in a couple weeks, so don’t worry, it won’t be long. I’m sure Cassini is worried sick.”
He didn’t answer.
“I appreciate you doing this for me.” I didn’t say sappy bullshit often, so a thank-you was all I could extend.
“I know you do.” He turned his gaze back to me, playful. “Asshole.”
I grinned. “You liked my note?”
“Who writes two sentences when they’re about to die?” he asked incredulously.
I shrugged. “What? You expect me to write you a love letter?”
He snapped his fingers as if he’d realized something. “I just remembered you can’t read or write—that makes sense.”
I rolled my eyes at the taunt. “I’ll get you for that…eventually.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Catalina was gone for
a long time.
So long, I almost called her.
But I suspected that conversation with her brother was intense, and the last thing she needed was my call making her phone light up and vibrate on the table while they tried to talk. Yeah, he was a dick for what he did to me, especially since I made it clear it was never a fair fight, but I didn’t want to weaken her relationship with her brother.
I understood how important he was to her.
Because Balto was so important to me.
My relationship with my brother was a little different because we were both men, and also, twins. We shared a connection that was a step above typical sibling love because our brains were the same, our souls were the same. Looking at your brother and seeing yourself was a unique experience. Not too many people could say the same. We’d swapped places all our lives to either trick people or to get something we wanted. I was terrible at interviews, so when we were young, he helped me get my first job by interviewing in my place. I was better at math than he was, so I’d taken a test for him a couple times.
If I ever lost him…I would lose myself.
It was past ten when Catalina walked inside.
I rose from the couch and turned off the TV. “Hey, baby.”
“Hey.” She set her purse on the counter and immediately went for a bottle of wine. She poured a glass, her lipstick marking the cup. Her eyes were down, like she was trying to hide the puffiness of her cheeks, the redness in her eyes.
I came toward her slowly, wishing I could enjoy that wine with her, lick it off her, all kinds of things. With one hand on the kitchen island, I watched her, watched her try to hide her feelings from me. “Didn’t go well?”
“It was just…a long conversation.” She drank from her glass again, her eyes still averted.
I grabbed the glass by the stem and pulled it away. “Look at me.”
She sighed like that was the last thing she wanted.
My fingers moved under her chin, and I lifted her gaze, forcing her to look at me. “Talk to me.” My hand slid to her cheek so my thumb could feel her soft skin, move across the single freckle close to her nose.
She closed her eyes at my touch, turning into my hand so she could kiss my palm.
My thumb traced her bottom lip, getting so lost in her exquisite beauty that I forgot what we were talking about for a second. Instead of her tears being a turn-off, she looked more beautiful with wet eyes, puffy cheeks. There was something about her sadness that turned me on—even though I never wanted her to be sad.
“He said he wouldn’t hurt you again…”
“That sounds like good news to me.”
“Yeah…but I had to beg.”
I’d love to have seen that, see her beg for me.
“He’s disappointed in me. He’s angry. But…at least it’s over.”
“It’ll get better. Give it time.”
She averted her gaze again.
“Baby.”
She turned back to me, knowing I would force her if she didn’t.
“Something else you aren’t telling me?”
Her eyes shifted back and forth as she looked into mine, taking a long time to answer. “No. It was just a lot of arguing… It was exhausting. I don’t really want to talk about it anymore.”
“Alright.” My hand slid to her neck, my fingers wrapping around her slender throat. “Hungry? I can make you something to eat?”
“I should be making you something to eat,” she said with a light chuckle.
“Come on, I’m not that weak anymore.” I dropped my hand from her neck and opened the fridge. “Balto brought this over. Cassini made it.” I placed it on the counter and pulled off the lid. “Not as good as what you make me, but it’s good enough.”
She looked into the pan, seeing slices of chicken breast with wine sauce and mushrooms on a bed of fettuccine. She constantly controlled the calories that she pushed into her mouth, so she was always hungry, and when her eyes narrowed slightly on the pan, it was obvious she was hungry now. “Ugh, that looks way better than anything I make.”
I grabbed a plate and shoveled the food onto the dish. “I disagree.”
She gave me an incredulous look. “The best thing I can make is mac and cheese.”
I put it in the microwave and leaned against the counter as I waited for it to be ready. “And it’s damn good mac and cheese.”
She rolled her eyes but did it playfully. “You’re just saying that.”
“When a woman cooks for a man, it’s innately sexual, innately possessive. I will never like a woman’s cooking more than yours, even if it is better, because you’re my woman and she’s not. So yes, I’d rather have your mac and cheese than eat someone else’s Wagyu steak, alright?”
A soft smile came over her face. “That makes sense, actually.”
The microwave beeped, and I pulled the dish out and set it on the counter. It was steaming hot, still fresh because Cassini must have made it earlier that afternoon. I placed a fork on top then watched her.
She spun the fork in her noodles. “You’re just going to watch me?”
“I watch you all the time.” I leaned against the counter, ignoring the pain of my ribs, the burn in my aching muscles. I missed being myself, standing tall, making jokes…just being me. And I liked that she was more herself again, finally dropping her guilt and relaxing around me. She always had her wall up, as if she didn’t deserve to be with me after what she did. She did some bad things…I did some bad things. We were even as far as I was concerned.
“True.” She took a bite, chewing the fettuccine, one cheek popping out because it was a lot for her small mouth.
I loved watching her no matter what she did, because she made everything sexy, even brushing her teeth. And anytime something was in her mouth, I imagined my dick replacing the object, and then it turned into a porno in my mind.
She continued to eat, taking breaks and drinking her wine. “You should sit down. You shouldn’t be on your feet so much.”
“I’m tired of sitting.”
“I don’t care what you’re tired of.” She turned bossy, flashing me her irritated look. “And it’s late. You should be in bed.”
“Ooh…I like it when you boss me around.” No one else could do it, especially not as good as she could.
“Then why don’t you listen?”
I shrugged. “Because then you keep doing it.”
She grabbed her fork again. “You sound like a child.”
“That’s funny. Cassini says the same thing.”
She raised her arm to slap me playfully but quickly lowered her hand when she stopped herself. “Just get in bed, alright?”
“Will you join me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Wasn’t sure if your conversation with Damien changed anything.”
She turned back to her food. “No.”
I had a hunch that she was lying, but I let it go. “Alright.” I moved into her side and wrapped my arm around her waist, my face moving into her hairline. She smelled the way I remembered, like a beautiful summer day—fresh-cut grass, new flowers, sunshine. I kissed her skin, savoring the touch of her against me, treasuring this moment, because just weeks ago, I thought I would never see her again.
She stilled at my touch, affected by my kiss the way I was, like it brought her to life in the exact same way. She stopped eating, even stopped breathing. She subtly turned her cheek my way.
I pulled away and looked down into her face, seeing the single most beautiful woman in the world, the woman I would lay down my life for in a heartbeat, the woman I would sacrifice everything for…because there was nothing more important.
The connection we used to have was still there, as if everything that had just happened never happened at all. She looked at me the way she used to, like I was the tinder to her fire, the dynamite to her explosion, the sunlight to her flower petals.
I lay in bed and watched her undress.
She pulled the sweater
over her head, her back to me. Then her arms reached behind her back and unclasped the black bra before she placed it on my dresser. She bent over and pushed off her jeans, giving me an incredible view of her ass.
I’d been thinking about that ass every single day.
Her bag was on the dresser, so she pulled out her little shorts and soft cotton tank. She put everything on, her silhouette so sexy in the dark. She held her small frame with such strength, deepened the arch in her back as she stood straight, stretching.
It was practically foreplay for me.
She moved to the nightstand and put her phone on silent before she took a drink of her water. Her makeup was gone because she’d washed it off when she brushed her teeth. Then she pulled back the sheets and finally joined me.
Man, I could not wait to fuck her again.
My body was still too weak to do it right, to hold myself on top of her without wincing. And I didn’t want to do it half-assed, a compromised version to accommodate my injury. I wanted to be the man she remembered, the man I still was.
So, I had to be patient.
She turned on her side and faced me, so small in my bed. She pulled the covers to her shoulders then stared at me, her hair pushed behind her ear so it wouldn’t be in her face and tickle her nose. She closed her eyes.
I stared at her, watched her eyelashes spread down her cheeks, watched her lips soften as she relaxed. When she didn’t touch me, she kept her knees to her chest and she took up almost no space, like a dog at the end of the bed.
“Come here.”
She opened her eyes.
My hand reached for her wrist and gave her a gentle tug. “Closer.”
“I don’t want to hurt you…”
“You’re hurting me more by staying over there.”
She must have wanted to be close to me too, because she shifted toward me, coming as close as she could without actually touching me. She brought the pillow with her, leaving her face just inches from mine.
It wasn’t exactly what I wanted—but some of her was better than none of her.
My hand grabbed hers and held it on my chest, on my left pec where my heart was. The weight didn’t hurt me since that was one of the few places where I didn’t ache. I interlocked our fingers and stared at her.