I sucked in a breath.
“You’re mine. I own this. The next time you feel like getting sloppy with my property…” His grip tightened, and the little air in my lungs vanished. “I won’t be so forgiving.”
Shivers raced up my spine.
I glared. “Oh, I’m so scared.”
A small smile hooked his right lip, like he knew my lie. “Were you just as wet for him?”
The closest Horace got to me was above-the-panties action, and I nearly vomited at that. Either way I answered would damn me, but Theo didn’t seem to want one anyway.
Theo traced my lace panties, barely lifting the edge with his thumb, just grazing the crease of my thigh. I sucked in air, trying to keep my head clear. It was a torturous rhythm. Expose, cover, expose, cover, until I felt I was going to die if he didn’t move his thumb closer to where I throbbed.
“If I moved these aside, would I find my answer?”
God, yes, please do it.
The apathetic curiosity in his voice killed me, like he didn’t give a shit he was touching me. I could be a rock for all the affection in his tone.
Meanwhile, I was burning up under his touch.
I moved, trying to force him under my panties, just a little closer. Somewhere along the line, consequences had given way to aching, throbbing need.
Then it happened. His thumb slid just enough, hovering featherlight above my pussy.
My breath rushed out of me.
Our eyes locked. In that second something crashed. I saw him again. I saw Theo Hound, my best friend. Sweetness, tenderness—it was faint, but it was there, a softness in his eyes like dawn breaking.
He pressed a little, barely spreading me, but not nearly enough.
I whimpered, and the sweet look vanished.
“I already came,” I said, desperately grasping at straws, anything to keep control. “You saw. Whatever happens, it doesn’t matter.”
His eyes narrowed; then a mean smile spread his heart-shaped lips. “Is that what that was supposed to be? You don’t think I know what you look like when you lie, Abigail? It’s classic you. Turning up the volume so loud no one will see the scared little girl beneath. I see you.”
He leaned forward, breath ghosting my neck, until his words shivered down my spine. “I’ll always see you.”
He pushed deeper, spreading me wet and aching, too slow and too tender for the vicious way he spoke.
“When you come for me, you won’t have to put on a show.” He trailed his lips up and down my neck, below my ear, my jaw—not a kiss, not a tease—a ruthless torment.
The steam and heat from his breath, the constant ache built from his thumb, had my eyes rolling back.
“And that’s okay. I won’t need it.”
Finally his thumb just barely grazed that tender, aching spot. I caved, grasping his shoulders, feeling his muscles bunch, pulling him closer.
Then he dropped me.
Shoved me to the chaise. I wasn’t sure I could stand if I tried.
Theo licked the back of his thumb, one long, agonizing swipe, our eyes still locked. “Sleep well, Reject.”
THEO
I woke to Abigail’s sob. Instantly I was up, through her open gilded double doors and inside her room. Next came a whimper, then another sob. It was two in the morning, but the large room glowed hazy marigold. Abigail didn’t do dark. She didn’t do nightlights. She couldn’t sleep unless all shadows were gone.
My training had me scanning the room. I jiggled the windows—still locked. Closet, bathroom—clear. No threat save the ones in her dream. I was double-checking the windows when she whimpered again, tossing in her quilted satin sheets.
I kicked the post of her king-sized bed. “Wake up, Reject.”
Her bed rattled, but she didn’t wake.
Abigail has no other guards but me, because the spoiled fucking brat scared them off. So I only sleep for, maybe, three hours tops because there’s no one to relieve me. In those three fucking hours, she wakes me up for a fucking nightmare.
She slept with one lean, pale leg bare. All the way up to her hip. I chewed my bottom lip.
I can still fucking taste her.
Fuck.
Goddamn it.
Another sob, this one muffled by her pillow.
I ground my jaw and went to her bedside.
Abigail hadn’t had a hearts-and-flowers childhood. We’d bonded over that, once. She was a princess, I was a street kid, but we’d both been scarred by rejection and abandonment. Back then, she fooled me into thinking I got off easy compared to her.
My mom only left me once.
Hers never stopped leaving.
I lifted her up by the shoulders, shaking her. “Wake the fuck up.” Her eyes fluttered open, hazy. Brown-black strands of hair stuck to her forehead and flushed cheeks. Lips parted.
The urge to let her drop back to the mattress and leave was strong. It was no longer my job to chase away her nightmares, and I was dangerously close to crossing a line I’d drawn in cement.
My grip tightened on her shoulders.
“I can’t find anyone.” Sleep-coated distress colored her words. “They promised they wouldn’t leave this time, but I can’t find anyone.”
I should get up. It was only a matter of seconds until she came back to reality.
I peeled strands of hair from her face. “It’s just another nightmare, Abs.”
Her brows caved. “I don’t want to spend Christmas alone.”
“You’re not alone, sweet girl.”
The term of endearment slipped out, but she’d be too tired to notice. Hopefully she’d be too tired to remember any of this.
Her cloudy gaze cleared, focusing on the room, the bed, then me. Recognition slowly washed over her features. “Oh.”
My hand lingered longer than necessary on her cheek. Abby was a siren in her floaty black slip and I was the sailor ready to jump into the rocks for her.
I pushed the rest of her hair out of her face. This was Abigail at her most dangerous. Because when Abigail dropped her walls, mine fell with them. I forgot. I forgot to hate her, forgot why I had to learn to hate her.
“You good?” My voice was soft.
“Yeah. Thank you.”
Thank you.
I flinched. Whatever tenderness snuck insidiously inside me vanished. Disgust slid as sewer water through my veins. First at myself, for being so goddamn stupid, then at her.
It had been a night like this when she’d told me she loved me. She’d looked at me like this too.
My voice was too soft, deadly.
“Thank you?” I tightened my grip on her hair to a yank. “Thank you, promise, please… Abigail Crowne’s four favorite words.”
“What are you doing?” Her voice shook.
I laughed, biting my tongue. “You’re so fucking predictable.”
A small, bluish-green dot caught my eye, visible on her small wrist. I let go of her hair, gripping her wrist, pulling her small body to me and holding her in the air and off the bed in an awkward position so she was at my mercy.
Fuck.
She still looked so beautiful.
“Did you think you could get into my head? I’m your worst nightmare, Reject.”
I pushed her back into the mattress. “I know everything about you. I know the deep dark secrets you don’t even tell yourself. I know the truths to all your lies.”
I pressed down on the freckle until it disappeared into the bloodless white of her skin.
“I will always be inside you.”
A fear whispered back: She would always be inside me.
I let go, got off the bed, and left her behind, slamming the double doors shut as she yelled at my back, “All I said was thank you!”
Nine
ABIGAIL
I rubbed the small blue-gray freckle to the left of my vein, the tattoo Theo had given me, made from the tip of a graphite pencil. He’d said everyone would think it was just a small, irregularly colored freckle
, but I would know. Forever.
I was tired, having stayed awake after Theo came to me last night. At least he’d shut my doors, given me that sliver of privacy.
For a brief second, I thought I’d seen the old Theo. Sweet and kind Theo, the one who woke me up from nightmares. Of course I was wrong. There was nothing about the old Theo left.
Theo used to wear a friendship bracelet every day. It was made of bulky, pastel beads and had the letters BFF sandwiched between hearts. Seeing someone like Theo, a guy who only wore shades of black, with a penchant for smoking, smirks, and brooding, with a pastel bracelet on his wrist was unbearably sexy. He’d worn it like he wore everything else, with effortless confidence born from not giving a shit what anyone else thought.
Like everything else Theo, it drove me insane.
Who gave it to him? Why didn’t he ever take it off?
Anytime I’d asked him, he’d always said I already knew the answers.
I used to hate seeing it on his wrist… now it drives me insane to see his wrist bare. Another reminder the old Theo is gone.
A knock at my door had me sitting up and righting shoulders achy from hunching for hours after Theo left, wiping sleep-tired eyes. I expected it to be Theo, so I steeled myself. Today was another stupid party. Another expensive invite. Another day for Abigail Crowne to ruin. Some famous cellist was playing, one of the women people would cream their panties just to sit hundreds of chairs away from. Naturally, everyone at Crowne Hall wouldn’t give a shit.
When I was a kid, we used to sabotage such parties.
Before my siblings and I totally hated one another, we ruined them together.
When my mom pushed open the door, I realized I didn’t need steel. I should’ve poured liquid cement inside my veins.
I quickly scrambled off my bed. “Uh, hi, Mom.”
She had a small unreadable smile on her face as she came to the side of my bed. I could count on one hand the number of times Mom had been to my wing.
Mom pushed my hair behind my ear. “It’s a shame your father had to miss last night.” Her smooth, nearly wrinkle-free hand lingered on my ear. I couldn’t breathe. “To see your beautiful, masterful magic trick.”
I frowned, biting the inside of my cheek to suppress a swallow. Mom’s sweetness barely veiled the sharp edge of her words. Anytime Mom brought up our late father, something awful was about to happen.
“A quarter of my garden and two point five million dollars disappeared in thirty seconds.”
Still she played with my hair, the same smile on her face. If I were any other person, I would’ve thought that was what got me in trouble, but money didn’t matter to us.
I waited for the shoe to drop.
“The acquisition and your engagement nearly went with it.”
Her voice was deathly quiet, but her grip on the lock of my hair tightened. If I moved the slightest bit, it would be painful.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said, straining my neck to stay still. “It was an accident.”
Her eyes narrowed. I looked the most like Mom out of all of us. I had her small stature and her almond-shaped eyes, button nose, and bee-stung lips. I think she resents me for it.
All at once she let me go.
I loosed a long exhale.
She stood, walking over to my desk. I watched silently as she opened the drawer with my college pamphlets, the found jewelry I’d been building as a portfolio, my treasures and my dreams. One by one, she picked up my jewelry, walking over to my open window.
I didn’t bother wondering how she knew. Tansy Crowne knew everything, saw everything, heard everything.
“Should I show you my trick?” She dangled my necklaces, earrings, and bracelets in the empty air.
She dropped all but one, holding the glimmering item in her grasp.
Fear crawled up my throat. “Mom—”
“You know how this works, Abigail. You take, I take.”
She dropped the last one.
My mouth parted, staring at the open window as she walked by me, whispering in my ear not to be late for the party later. Staring even after she left. Years of artwork lost in a second. The only pieces left were in my secret box, stowed away in my closet.
The worst part… I wasn’t mad at her. I was mad at myself for believing I could be anything more.
I don’t know if my family was ever happy, but we weren’t so… unhappy.
There was a time when I wasn’t so vile.
With Dad gone, all I ever really knew was Mom, and for as long as I can remember, she’d favored my siblings, specifically Gemma. Nothing I ever did was good enough for her. She set Gemma and me against each other, but Gemma always came out on top.
I keep hoping one day she’ll let me win, or at least, let me know why I’m losing.
When I finally turned around, Theo was in the doorway, watching.
How long had he been there?
Vulnerability scraped at my throat. I couldn’t handle whatever he had planned, not after my mother. Something flickered warm in his light eyes, but it was gone before I could decipher it.
He kicked off the frame. “Let’s go, Reject.”
I felt Theo’s judgment at my back. It’s what everyone would think. How could Abigail Crowne even dream of college? Dream of anything other than the life she was given? Abigail Crowne was less than. Abigail Crowne was second best.
Abigail Crowne was worthless.
“Not gonna fight back?” Theo asked.
Dark, silky cello music grew louder the farther we descended downstairs. Today I could dress in jeans, Chanel pumps, and a bulky, oversized crewneck sweatshirt, which meant Theo was dressed casually in dark-gray fitted jeans and a cable-knit sweater that outlined his biceps and forearms too well. We had a world-class cellist, and we liked to show our privilege by dressing down.
The party should be in the garden… but it had to be moved, for obvious reasons, and was now in the terrace overlooking the ocean and unburned parts of the garden—though it had been mostly fixed, the only evidence of Abigail Crowne and her near-constant fuck-uppery the smell of burnt leaves.
Bloody Marys, mint juleps, and assholes await me. I can’t wait.
Theo grabbed me by the collar, yanking me backward right before I would enter. He pressed me against the wall.
“You in there?” He ruffled my hair and curls fell over my eyes, blurring his face. I saw only important parts of him, the parts that defined Theo Hound. His sharp jaw. The cut of his gaunt cheeks. His piercing green eyes.
Theo’s soft voice and playful actions cut worse than any of his harsh words. After Mom’s reminder this morning, I knew how dangerous it was to believe in something good.
I turned my head.
He pushed one strand behind my ear. “Abig—”
Laughter cut him off, and he dropped his hand, taking a step back.
“Morning, Reject.”
Geoff, this time with Alaric. Another asshole I was unfortunate enough to be “friends” with by the forced proximity begot from wealth and power.
“Uh-oh, don’t make the reject cry. Look, her dog is already growling.”
I glanced at Theo, who oddly enough did look upset.
They kept talking, but I was focused on Theo. I don’t get him. He probably thought I’d been too asleep the night before to notice him say nice things to me—but I wasn’t.
One minute he’s hot, the next cold. When I show him any hint of sweetness he throws it in my face, as if he prefers me when I’m a bitch.
Geoff and Alaric walked outside, joining the others in their casual attire outside on the terrace.
Theo stared after them, a look on his face that made me shiver.
“People call me that all the time,” I said quietly. “You call me that.”
It was a moment before he acknowledged I’d spoken. So long I thought he wouldn’t. Then he looked down at me with a look so intense, so ripping, it cured my soul.
“Exactly. Only I get to call you t
hat.”
Then it vanished from his face, and I was summoned by one of my mom’s friends, forced to play Abigail Crowne.
THEO
I stood behind Abigail as she talked to some older woman with so much work done she had a constant Joker smile. We were on the upper part of the terrace. Above us, a tiered chandelier cast soft light, and Grecian columns slatted our view of the iron-blue ocean.
I rolled the bracelet in my pocket between my fingers, weathered from all the times I’d rubbed it during the years Abigail and I’d been apart.
You belong to me now, forever.
I worked the bracelet in my pocket harder, focusing on the blocky beads, not the arch of Abigail’s neck, exposed when she moved her hair over one shoulder. I could still feel Abigail’s skin beneath my fingers. She was a tempting lie, a promise I wanted to believe wouldn’t break.
The woman wandered down one of the two forking stairs to the lower deck of the terrace—probably to wreak havoc on Gotham—and Abigail was alone again.
“Hey,” I said. “Reject.”
Nothing. Still.
This was what I wanted. Abigail broken.
I was so busy working the bracelet I didn’t notice the music grow distorted, cacophonous, and shrieking.
“Someone switched her bow,” Abigail said absently. I glanced at where Abigail was looking. The cellist was red-faced.
A smile came—that used to be our move—but it vanished just as quickly. Abigail was watching her mother, brows drawn.
“Do you know what would really piss her off?” I asked, voice low so only she could hear. She tilted her head to listen. “Fucking your bodyguard.”
Her breath caught and she tried to cover it up by clearing her throat.
“You’re just trying to trip me up, get me caught and in trouble.”
I grinned. “Definitely.” She looked at me, catching my darkening eyes. “Doesn’t mean I’m not right.”
“I’m not falling for this.”
My grin widened. “The Abigail I knew wasn’t such a coward.”
Heartless Hero Page 8