His tongue swirled around the ice, and heat seized my stomach. Theo was tasting me. I didn’t give him permission to learn that secret part of me, but like every other torment, he’d taken it anyway.
Now he forced me to wonder what his lips would feel like, his tongue doing to me what they did to the cube. He fucking knew it, too, as a wicked grin curved his beautiful lips.
“Abigail.” My mother’s cold, irritated voice drew me back. “Did you hear a word I said?”
“No,” I admitted. “Sorry.”
She clicked her tongue, eyes narrowing.
“Your fiancé’s mother has joined us tonight.” She gestured to a plump woman wearing a flowing, feathery white dress, her light-brown hair piled high with more feathers.
“Be on your best behavior, and do make an effort to introduce yourself. Eleanora will want to know who exactly she’s getting as a daughter.”
For a moment I’d allowed myself to forget I was engaged to a man I didn’t know.
I swallowed. “Of course.”
With a deep exhale through her nostrils, my mother walked away.
Mom wasn’t gone a minute before Theo’s hot breath was on my ear. “I always wondered what you tasted like.”
He slowly moved back into position, staring straight ahead, a cocksure tease to his lips.
“My imagination was better,” he said like it was an afterthought.
My heart bottomed out, still locked on his lips.
Theo had kissed me. It could hardly be called a kiss, bruising and punishing, but that’s what it was. Five years since I’d felt his lips, and now they were used to torture me.
I was a lot of things—hated, reviled—but I was never pathetic.
Theo made me pathetic.
I couldn’t get the thoughts of his calloused hands on my thighs out of my head. I could still feel the way they dug into my skin, so torturously close to where I really wanted them. His wet lips on my ear, biting me just right. I was agonizing over it. I wanted to hate his touch. I wanted to revile him.
He was still torturing me. Still teasing me. Still using his lips to break me.
I wouldn’t let him take my heart, no matter what my traitorous body felt. I would put an iron lock on it and throw away the key. Even if it meant I couldn’t love anyone else.
Love is ephemeral, anyway.
Across the room, I spotted my sister and her fiancé, Horace.
Time for a taste of his own medicine.
Time for him to learn a girl who lost everything is dangerous.
She has nothing left to lose.
“So you’re planning something,” Theo said.
“Am not.”
I hadn’t been thinking of my plan five minutes when Theo spoke. Was I really so obvious? The thing about Gemma’s beaus is they’ve always been so very… distractible. I planned to do what I always did when my heart hurt, when I was burned by Gemma’s spotlight—show how much damage you can do in the dark.
This time it had the added benefit of maybe hurting Theo.
I grabbed the nearest champagne off a server, looking from Horace and my sister to the beach. They were setting up the fireworks.
“You have your bad idea face,” Theo said simply.
“I don’t have a bad idea face. I don’t have bad ideas.”
Theo didn’t say a word, but his expression said everything. He rolled his lips, eyebrows raised, nodding like okay, sure. I folded my arms, glaring.
“You’re doing that thing with your lip,” he said. “You did it the day you brought me home. You did it the night we broke into the school and freed the frogs from the science lab. You did it yesterday before you lunged at me like a sex-starved lunatic.” He leaned closer, breath heating my neck. “You’re doing it now.”
I unlatched my teeth from my bottom lip, not realizing I was biting it.
“You know me so well, Theo Hound,” I said with bitter sarcasm.
“Unfortunately.”
“Oh yeah? Then what’s my favorite color?”
He scoffed. “Trick question, Abs. You love them all.”
I turned from him, the air between us suddenly stifling.
I hated these parties.
When we were kids, Theo and I used to steal a bottle of liquor off the bartender and go up to the balcony overlooking the ballroom, making up backstories that would shock all the pretentious people who showed.
She definitely wears off-the-rack.
He secretly votes Democrat.
We’d laugh, sharing one bottle, getting so drunk Theo would have to carry me to my room on his back. A sharp ache slammed into my gut at the memory, and I took another drink of champagne, trying to drown the hurt.
“Am I going to have to carry you to your room?” He eyed me, then leaned close until his lips grazed my ear again. “She looks like she secretly enjoys la délicatesse Big Mac.”
I followed his eye to a particularly extravagant woman.
I took a big gulp of champagne, but my hand shivered and I dropped my glass. The golden liquid spilled into the grass and sand. Theo’s eyes narrowed, reading into what happened. I tried to cut it off at the quick. “What? I’m clumsy.”
I turned away, waving down a server to come and clean up the mess.
He laughed. “You danced for twelve years, but okay.”
I spun on him. “Stop that!”
He arched a brow, waiting for me to elaborate.
“Stop acting like you remember things about me.”
Stop acting like you care, like we meant something more.
Theo watched me, his eyes narrowed, taking a torturously slow sip of water.
“I remember everything about you, Abigail. I’ve tried to forget you. It’s impossible. You are…” He looked away, bitter fury and contempt swirling in his eyes. “You are stuck.” He clipped the last word, like he wanted to spit it out of his mouth the same way he wanted to spit me out.
I don’t know if I’ll ever get back my breath.
Before I could respond, we were interrupted.
“Hey, freeloader.” Grayson walked up to us, eyes on Theo. In a black suit, the sleeves folded to the forearm, tie undone and wrinkled as only Gray could get away with. “Gemma needs you.”
“What?” I asked. “Why?”
“Something about a fan stuck in a tree. You’re the tallest one here.”
I waited for Theo to tell him he was needed here, with me, but he shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, heading toward my sister by the fountain.
I shouldn’t have expected anything else.
“You still in love with that loser?” Gray asked. To our left and right, girls watched him from beneath fans. Some demure, others obvious.
I glared at my brother. “I was never in love with him—and he’s not a loser.” I don’t know why I added the last bit, and I hoped Gray didn’t notice it.
But Gray, despite his devil-may-care demeanor, rarely missed a thing.
We had a twisted relationship, the same way I had with everyone in my family, but it was nothing compared to mine and Gemma’s. Mom pitted us all against one another, but Gemma and I were in direct competition. There could only be one winner, which meant there was always one loser.
“He’s a freeloading gold digger.”
“He’s the only one in this family who actually works.”
Gray looked at me like I was an idiot. “Exactly.”
“You never liked him—” I broke off.
Someone stood out among the fanning groupies. She was someone you would normally overlook, but I’d been looking for her. Because of her, Theo had been able to sabotage my dress, and because of her I’d been scolded by Mother—again. Story.
My jaw dropped, eyes narrowing. Why the hell was she out here?
Gray stepped in my line of sight, blocking her and distracting me. “He’s not good enough.” For a moment, I thought Gray was giving me a rare compliment, then he added, “You’re barely good enough to stain a shirt—”
> “Gee, thanks.”
“But you’re a Crowne, so we have to pretend.”
Gray downed the rest of his amber drink, slammed it on a server’s tray so hard she stumbled, and left. I looked for Story in his absence, but she’d disappeared again.
I focused back on Gemma. The fountain glowed on her skin; she was luminous. Her white dress caught the breeze. My mother laughed at something she said. Everyone watched her, transfixed. Horace, Horace’s bodyguard, men lingering on the side, the women.
Theo.
It didn’t look like he was trying too hard to get anything out of a fucking tree.
She was pure, perfect. She’d had a fiancé since we were teenagers, but it wasn’t like my engagement to a man I’ve never met. It wasn’t rushed, forced, and ugly. They were everything you thought when you imagined elite marriages. Aristocratic. Beautiful. Destined.
At least… that’s what it looked like from the outside and isn’t that all that mattered?
Maybe I was what they called me. Imperfect. Dirty. Vile.
Maybe I could get some of it on them.
I watched, waiting until Horace left the group. I intercepted him before he reached the buffet.
“Abigail?”
I touched his shoulder. “Has anyone shown you the maze?”
Eight
ABIGAIL
I didn’t like the way he kissed.
I didn’t like his hands on my hips.
I didn’t like any of it.
I thought it would make me feel whole, better, special. Instead I was emptier than before we’d started. He didn’t bother asking if he could put his hands between my thighs. I didn’t bother telling him to stop.
I don’t know how long we were like that, him kissing and me waiting for something to change. All I know is when I saw him, when Theo found me, a part of me came alive.
I started moaning. Real porn star stuff. I grabbed Horace’s hair, pulling him to my neck. It was greasy with too much product. I jerked his head to the side so I could lock eyes with Theo.
Theo was a shadow in the night, looming, taking up almost all the light. I wanted him to come and grab Horace off me. Fling him by the collar to the ground. He just watched. A muscle in his jaw twerked. Clenched. Making his cheekbones that much hollower.
Horace’s lips roamed my neck. I couldn’t pretend anymore. I couldn’t even move. I was sucked into Theo. When I totally froze, Theo’s lip twitched. Not quite a smile, but the arrogance in his eyes flamed.
I wanted to kiss harder at the arrogance, but I couldn’t.
“Horace?” Gemma’s husky voice called out, her white chiffon dress following after, a fairy among the dark leaves. She stopped next to Theo, spotting us.
Horace jumped off me like I was on fire, running to my sister’s side as if he hadn’t just been climbing up my thigh and moaning my name. I was alone on the sand, surrounded by the looming hedges of the maze, shimmering black-green in the night.
“Oh, hey Gemma.” I stood up, brushing off invisible grains of sand. Inside, my chest was on fire. They were both by her side, again. In the dark, someone might call out my name, but in the light, everyone always chose her.
Gemma folded long, lean arms, tilting her head so rose gold hair fell down one side.
“You didn’t used to be this awful,” she said. “Remember the late nights? The pictures we used to take together?” At the mention of the pictures, my grip involuntarily tightened. Pictures that had once been the only evidence of any affection in my relationship with my sister were now concrete proof I was unlovable.
“We’ve always been competitive,” Gemma continued. “But you weren’t so vile.”
“You stole him!” I screamed. “You stole the only thing that was ever mine.”
The words fell out of me, having been caged inside with a broken lock. I was never any good at keeping my cool like Gemma. I knew I gave up too much, and I prayed Theo didn’t put two and two together.
I couldn’t look at him, but Theo’s silent presence sucked me in like a black hole.
“What the fuck are you talking about? You act like you’re the victim, but you’ve tried to steal every boyfriend I’ve ever had. If our life was a novel, I’d be the princess and you’d be the shitty, jealous villain begging a mirror to say she was pretty. I’d be furious if it wasn’t so fucking pathetic. They let you blow them or finger you, then come back to me because anyone with a brain can see you’re not worth it.” She paused to let me breathe from the brutal tongue-lashing before she delivered the final blow. “You’re one step up from a Fleshlight.”
“Your fiancé didn’t think so.” I could feel my insides squishing beneath my sister’s silver heel. Even I didn’t believe my words, and as her perfect pink smile grew wider, my uncertainty cemented.
“Did you think he did that without my permission?” She laughed. “My only condition was I got to see the look on your face when you found out once again you weren’t a second, or even third choice. You were barely a choice at all.”
I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to make them like me—imperfect, stained. Instead, I’d been used as a rag to make them cleaner.
My gaze connected with Theo’s brutal and unyielding green eyes, and that was when my tears fell. It wasn’t quite arrogance in them, it was almost… disappointment.
My tears burned like acid.
I couldn’t let them see.
My choices were humiliation by running away, or staying for a public, brutal shaming. So I ran. I pushed past them. I heard her laughter, but I kept running. I couldn’t listen to this; her truths cut like knives. A Crowne always learned truth hurt more, was cleaner, more effective. More than that, when you’re as powerful as us, you don’t need to lie. However vicious and razing a lie, you can always be assured you’ll rise above the rubble.
A Crowne didn’t lie… to others.
To ourselves, well, we were masters.
I ran and stumbled in the grass, my heel getting caught in the uneven, sandy terrain. I kept running until I tripped. I stumbled into a servant, and we both went down.
At first, I thought the most damage I’d done was to my ego, and maybe bruised the servant I’d knocked down a little, but I learned quickly enough how wrong I was when the pop and squeal sounded, followed by screams.
Fireworks.
I’d knocked into the servant setting up the fucking firework show, just as he was lighting the first one. I looked around frantically as one by one fireworks exploded without direction. It was a domino effect, the first lighting the second, and so on.
I stood up in time to see them explode in the garden.
“I didn’t do this,” the servant said, desperation leaking from every syllable. “You know I didn’t do this Ms. Crowne.”
I glanced at him. Maybe if it had been Gray who’d caused this, he’d be blamed. But it was me.
He had nothing to worry about.
One after another my mother’s artfully trimmed hedges were set ablaze, the dark night illumined in orange and yellow. Tonight’s firework show ruined.
Servers rushed to put out the fire in the garden. Partygoers screamed, running away from it. Startled swans jumped out of the water. It was a total fucking catastrophe.
I swiped tears out of my eyes.
Why couldn’t I ever do anything right?
Theo had asked if I was going to pull an Abby. In the end, I guess I had.
“Abigail Genevieve Crowne.” My mother clenched my arm so tight I swore it might bruise. “I know you’re behind this somehow, but smile and act like everything is fine.” Behind her Mrs. Harlington watched us, light-brown brows furrowed.
Out of the bushes, I saw Gemma walking toward me from the maze, laughing with Theo and Horace.
Everything was spiraling out of control, faster than the shrieking fireworks. Fire rose in my chest, and I clawed for a distraction. Something to make this not hurt.
“Am I ever going to meet my fiancé?” I yelled, tearing my arm out. �
�Or are we just going to exchange cattle on my wedding and call it a day?”
Mrs. Harlington’s mouth dropped.
My mother’s lips thinned.
And a little bit of the fire in my chest dissipated.
I kicked off my shoes and ran past my distraught mother and my soon-to-be mother-in-law, into the house and up the stairs, down the hall, to my wing. I didn’t stop to catch my breath until I was safely in my wing, back in my room. Then I fell, grasping the sateen chaise at the foot of my bed. I counted my breath with the ocean waves outside.
Minutes passed with their crashing.
1…2…3… heart almost steady.
“Bad plan.”
I lifted my head sharply at Theo’s voice, still holding the arm for support. Just like that, my heart was tachycardiac. Theo leaned with his back against the doorframe, head canted, watching me with a darkly amused expression.
I looked back at the white carpet.
“Where’s Gemma?” I sounded petulant.
I hated that.
I saw his shadow first, then his soft black leather shoes. He bent down, lifting my chin from the carpet.
“You act like you’re this broken little victim, but I see you.” He rubbed my flesh gently through his vicious words. “You’re an attention whore. You get off on it. Good or bad, Mommy didn’t give you enough growing up so you seek it out.”
His thumb strayed from my chin, gliding along my bottom lip.
“Am I not giving you enough attention, Reject?”
Anger rose hot, almost masking the hurt. I snapped at his thumb; he drew it back just in time with a laugh.
“Go away,” I tried to growl, and it came out a mumble.
“Did you think that would bother me, Reject?” His voice was too calm, too quiet.
“It wasn’t about you,” I lied.
“Hopefully. Because watching you treat yourself like an old couch doesn’t do much for me.”
My heart cracked.
Then his fingers came back to my chin, vicious, dragging me up off the floor with a force that felt like it would snap my neck if I didn’t comply.
“It’s my fault. I wasn’t clear.”
The hand at my chin pushed the hair from my face violently, locking into place at the back of my neck—locking me into place. His other shot between my legs. Cupping me—no, imprisoning me.
Heartless Hero Page 7