Possess: Protect Book 3

by Ryann, Olivia

  In a flash, I knock Damen off his barstool, tackling him to the ground. “You’re lying!” I accuse.

  Before he can say anything else, I punch him right in that deceptive mouth of his. He roars with laughter as soon as my fist makes contact with his face. I may be the mad dog of the Aétos brothers, but Damen is truly insane. Even as I punch him again, he howls with laughter, his whole body shaking with mirth.

  I bloody his mouth and nose. The sheer physicality of it just revs me up more, loosens the stranglehold I have on reality. The blood is on his teeth, and on my knuckles too. I welcome the familiar feel of it as blood seeps between my fingers.

  This is what I was made for. This violence has always been inside of me, just waiting for the right moment to rear its ugly head. The veil of red covers my gaze almost completely, threatening to make the violence inside me explode.

  Kill him. Hunt Derrik down. All must suffer…

  I shake my head, trying to quiet the maelstrom of impulses.

  “You are a fool,” Damen taunts, cackling. “You might care for the girl, but Derrik had her first. He will always have the upper hand, brother. Don’t you see?”

  A hand lands on my shoulder, ripping at me. I shake it off, my eyes only on Damen. I may not be able to do anything about Derrik right this second, but the messenger is here, goading me in real time.

  Suddenly several men in police uniforms bound into the bar, swarming all over Damen and me, tearing us apart. They pull me up and get my hands behind my back, frog-marching me outside.

  Everything slows down. My head is full of darkness, a black rage that roils and churns. I hear the police instructing me to calm down, but it’s as if they are far away. Three officers drag me toward a police car, yelling in my face.

  The last glimpse I see of Damen, he is being hauled off toward a different car, laughing uproariously despite his bloodied face. Then my head hits the side of a police car, hard enough to jar me back into reality.

  The world speeds up again, but what happens to Damen I do not know. I’m put into the car and the door slams in my face, caging me in. I let my head drop, trying to think.

  Could what Damen just said be true?

  Could my pretty little Rue have given herself to Derrik first?

  My whole world spins as the car pulls out.

  24

  Dryas

  By the time I finally return to the apartment, trudging up the stairs, it is dark outside. It took a while to convince the Interlaken police that I wasn’t going to kill anyone. It involved paying quite a large fine and swearing that I was fine, I was definitely not going to kill my brother as soon as I saw him again.

  I didn’t encounter Damen on the way out of the station or on the brief ride back, which is a blessing of a sort. Swinging the front door to the apartment open, I find Rue on the same brown leather couch Damen fell on earlier. She looks frightened out of her mind.

  Before I can say anything at all, she jumps in. “You came back.”

  The relief in her voice is almost palpable. Did she think I would abandon her here?

  “Of course, I did.” It comes out gruffer than I intended. Slamming the door behind me, I move toward her.

  She stands up, wearing a long white silk robe. She cocks her head to the side, looking at me calculatingly.

  Rue is expecting me to say something, and rightly so. But I don’t even know how or where to begin. How do you ask the girl you’re infatuated with whether or not she fucked your archenemy?

  My brain is awhirl, trying to figure out what the hell I’m supposed to say.

  Were you a virgin the first time we fucked? has all the wrong kinds of connotations, but it summarizes how I feel on the inside. What I’m the most afraid of is that her answer will be no.

  Then I’ll have to stop what I’m doing and leave here, heading straight to Derrik’s lair in Lichtenstein. Because he must die immediately if he even breathed wrong near Rue. My dignity, my honor, wouldn’t allow it to end any other way.

  She senses that something is not right with me. I can tell by the expression on her face, the twist of her expressive lips.

  Her hands come up to toy with the silken sash of her robe. She takes a step toward me, tossing her long red hair over her shoulder. She does not make another attempt at conversation.

  Instead, she gently undoes the sash of her robe, letting it slide off her shoulders and hit the floor. Beneath it she wears nothing but a little white lace teddy, the garment an unquestioning invitation to touch her.

  A growl bursts free of my chest as I move toward her, grabbing the fabric at her waist and pulling her against my body. She reaches up to me, pulling my head down toward hers.

  My heart aches, my chest feels like it is cracking open. I press my lips to hers, luxuriating for a moment in her scent, her taste. Her hand at the back of my neck urges me to deepen the kiss. I open my mouth a little, hungry, searching for more.

  She nips my bottom lip, making a soft sound of pure want. Breathless, I break the kiss, moving back only long enough to shred her teddy. In seconds, it is reduced to a heap of silk flying to the floor. She is naked and bare before me, and my hands cannot get enough of her supple, soft skin.

  She moans as I cup her breast, tweaking one of her pouty pink nipples. When she makes noises like that, I can almost forget Damen’s ugly words.

  Derrik had her first.

  I grab her by the throat, reveling in the way she groans. She doesn’t go stiff; she relaxes into my embrace. She trusts me.

  But am I the only man she’s trusted like this?

  The thought is too ugly even for me. I push it away, releasing her throat. She looks at me with those wide baby blue eyes, so innocent and yet so fucking dirty. Her hands are on the buttons of my shirt, the zipper of my pants.

  As soon as she undresses me, I want more. I need more of her.

  When will I ever have enough?

  Never, if I have any say over the matter. Kicking my pants off and throwing my shirt to the floor, I seek her mouth again. She’s just as sweet as the very first time I tasted her, so soft and amenable.

  Spanning her hips with my hands, I lift her up for long enough to carry her down to the floor. I land beside her, my cock pressed against her outer thigh. Without a word she reaches down and gives me a stroke.

  As she does it, she catches her bottom lip between her teeth. Her eyes tell me that she wants me, that she’s been thinking about me when I was gone. If I was not hard before, I sure as hell am now.

  Rolling onto my back, I pull Rue on top of my body, guiding her to straddle me. She takes my cock in her small hand, guiding it to her core. She’s already so slick and ready.

  I close my eyes briefly. She is mine. I gave a voice to the thing between us, claiming her as my own. I need to remember that.

  When I open my eyes, I see her blue eyes flutters closed as she sinks down onto my cock, the sensation so hot and so wet that I almost lose myself right then and there. I could bury myself in her, roll her onto her back, fuck her until we were both begging for release. It would be easy, and she certainly would not protest.

  But I hold myself back as she begins to move on me, up and down my cock. I bide my time, reaching up to play with her breasts and down to press a thumb against her clit.

  She grows tighter and tighter as she nears her orgasm, winding stiffly as a metal spring. She’s so fucking beautiful as she rides me, her cheeks rosy with exertion and her hair mussed just so. I can’t help but touch her everywhere. The fullness of her breasts, the ridged glory of her ribs, the flatness of her belly.

  When she’s about to come, I sit up, taking the reins. She throws back her head and closes her eyes, glorying in the feel of me just as I am her. Pumping up into her, I nibble at her neck, admiring the pale freckles I find even there.

  I feel her clench around me, spasming as she calls out my name. The look on her face is exquisite, almost disbelieving that fucking me can be quite as good as this. I know exactly the feeling
, because I feel nearly the same thing. She digs her nails into my shoulders, not conscious of anything at all.

  “Dryas!” she cries as she comes.

  I hammer my cock into her body, heedless of the past and the future. There is no time but now, there is no place but here. Every breath inhaled burns, every exhale is her name.

  I can feel my body tightening too, getting ready to orgasm.

  “Rue… Rue, Rue, Rue…” I grit out, my eyes closing. Chanting her name is a kind spell to me, a warding off evil. I bury myself in her neck then as I come, spilling myself inside of her pussy in several hard thrusts.

  Sinking onto my back and pulling her down on top of me, I keep my eyes closed. Her face presses against my chest. My hand settles in her hair, cupping the back of her head.

  For now, there is nothing to talk about. I just try to breathe, and she does the same.

  25

  Rue

  Walking past a chocolate shop, I stop and look at the beautiful display. Macaron towers, a chocolate fountain, many chocolate collections already boxed up together and looking gorgeous… there is a lot to look at. I think about going inside to get something delicious for Dryas.

  What would he like?

  As I wonder that, I catch my own reflection in the glass window. A fair redheaded girl with a basketful of groceries on one arm and a baguette sticking out from beneath the other arm. For some reason, looking at myself reflected makes me sad. I turn and wander away from the window, but I can’t leave my sadness behind so easily.

  If only.

  Sighing, I continue my afternoon walk. Dryas doesn’t like the idea of me going anywhere by myself, but here I am. He’s been so mopey since he saw his brother Damen yesterday. Damen must have given Dryas some news, because he has been totally absorbed in thought ever since we went to bed together last night.

  He’s not exactly forthcoming about what he learned, but I’m guessing it has something to do with me. When he thinks I’m not looking, he stares at me, his expression nothing short of intense. When I look up at him though, he pretends to be engrossed in something else.

  Dryas isn’t prone to moodiness and brooding, both of which have been on full display today. But the staring is creepy. Thus, I am out for a walk, alone.

  But of course, the walk isn’t really all that it was cracked up to be. It only outlines the shape of my loneliness and gives me room to worry about what is going on with Dryas.

  What could be bothering him so much? Why won’t he just tell me? It’s not like I haven’t asked. When I asked for the third time over lunch, he snarled at me, almost biting my head off. Then he apologized and retreated behind a book, but I could tell that he wasn’t reading.

  Instead, he alternated between staring at me, feigning interest in his book, and looking forlornly into the distance.

  Did he learn something about the Rebel King, perhaps? Or maybe he found out something about Father Derrik’s movements that displeased him?

  I raise my gaze, looking at the majestic mountains that seem close enough to touch. We should be exploring those mountains right now, or maybe taking a boat ride around one of the lakes together. Instead, Dryas mumbled some excuse for not leaving the apartment.

  Taking a deep breath in and holding it for a few seconds, I exhale it slowly. I have to confront Dryas about his behavior. It’s the only way I can think of to make things normal between us again.

  I take slow steps for the rest of my walk, talking myself into a calm mind frame.

  I promise myself that it’ll be fine. Dryas just needs a reminder that I have feelings too. He probably doesn’t even know that I’ve noticed him acting strangely.

  When I climb the stairs to the second-floor apartment, I take another deep breath. In, out. I remind myself that I can do this, that everything will be okay.

  When I open the door and step inside, the living room is empty. Frowning, I set the groceries down on the kitchen counter. Dryas must be in one of the bedrooms. Maybe he decided to shower again…

  I start putting the fruits and vegetables away and then pick up a big piece of trout that I got while I was out. There are heavy footfalls behind me, and I turn with a smile.

  “I got us some fish…” I say, then stop abruptly.

  Dryas is standing there, clutching a familiar looking envelope. It’s the envelope with my sister’s handwriting, bearing Father Derrik’s message.

  In a flash, my whole body goes icy cold.

  Dryas’s face is dark as a thunderclap, his whole body tense as a coiled spring. He doesn’t speak, he just thrusts the letter out at me, as if it required some sort of explanation. My mouth has gone dry. My fingers shake as I reach up to take the letter from him.

  Oh God. He knows. He knows that Father Derrik and I…

  He knows that he was not my first.

  I can feel my face heat, even as I feel myself begin to go pale.

  Say something.

  Anything.

  I lick my lips, preparing to explain. “Dryas, I—”

  He cuts me off. “Is it true?”

  My gaze slides downward. I can’t look him in the eye, knowing that he knows. Even if he only knows about part of it, he is sure to never look at me the same way again.

  “I should explain—” I start to say. He lunges for me, grabbing me by the shoulders. He shakes me like a rag doll, his fingers digging into my flesh.

  It’s going to be just like it was at the castle all over again, Dryas bruising me wickedly while I cowered in the bathtub. I close my eyes, preparing myself. His fingertips keep digging into my skin, hurting me a little, but he does no more than that.

  “Look at me,” he orders, his tone hushed.

  When I open my eyes, his expression is nothing short of intense. Tears prick the corners of my eyes. Looking at him, I take a deep breath.

  His jungle cat’s eyes move back and forth across my face, scanning me. “Did Father Derrik ever fuck you?”

  The bluntness of his words makes the fire in my cheeks burn all the harder. I’m at a loss for words. He shakes me again, his piercing eyes pinning me in place.

  Tears start to roll down my face, unchecked. A strange numbness begins to take me over, paralyzing me.

  “Yes,” I whisper, nodding. The numbness spreads throughout my chest like wildfire, making me strangely emotionless. At the same time, my heart twists and breaks in my chest, but it seems far away from me.

  A distant pain, on faraway shores.

  Dryas releases me with a hiss. He mutters something in Greek, his eyes going towards the window.

  “Dryas, please—” I try, reaching out to him.

  His gaze snaps back to mine, then slides away. He pulls free of my grasp, like my touch is anathema to him. Already, he is shaking his head, furious.

  “No. He will pay, the fucking bastard.”

  He leaves me there like that, broken and grieving, sagging against the kitchen counter. Dryas goes to the front door, opening it and slamming it as he leaves. I sob as if the entire world were ending, because for me, it just might be.

  26

  Rue

  Dryas slammed the front door, walking out of my life forever. Something in my chest broke just then, some little piece of my heart that I’ve been holding on to with intense desperation.

  I haven’t heard a single sound from him since then, not that I expected to, really. Lying on the bed in the farthest back bedroom, I cry out all my tears. I think all the manic things that I have repressed for the past two months.

  Dryas is gone, and it’s my fault.

  Just like it was my fault that Father Derrik was seduced by me.

  I drove Dryas away. It was inevitable.

  No one would want to stay with me, not when they know everything about me.

  Caught in a cycle of negativity, I can’t seem to stop the thoughts. They swirl around in my head, an endless snake eating its own tail. I sob into the pillows, letting them catch my salty tears.

  Padding into the liv
ing room, I find the letter that Father Derrik sent on the floor, crushed and crumpled by Dryas’s hands. My heart feels heavy as I pluck it up, smoothing it out with trembling hands. It feels pathetic, but I clutch the letter to my chest. Dryas touched it. It made him feel something.

  That’s better than the cold indifference that I imagine he feels toward me now, isn’t it?

  Placing the letter on the kitchen counter, I turn to find the basket of groceries still only partially unpacked. The fish filet I chose so excitedly has been sitting out for too long now. At the bottom of the basket is the envelope of cash that Dryas gave me when I told him I was going to get groceries.

  I laughed when he gave me almost three thousand euros, but now I all I can feel is grateful. Did he know when he gave it to me that it would be my only lifeline? It’s not that much, but it will definitely be enough to start somewhere new.

  That does beg the question. It’s been over almost two days since I have seen or heard from Dryas. Does that mean I should start planning for a life without him in it?

  My whole chest aches at the very idea. But a tender heart doesn’t mean I can’t face facts, does it?

  It’s not as if I can call his family and friends to try to divine his intent, but that’s not entirely necessary. Dryas is likely gone, never to return. I’ve been thrown away, discarded like yesterday’s rubbish.

  In truth, the fact that Dryas once prized me at all was more shocking than this outcome. Drying my tears, I take a few deep breaths.

  You’ve expected this since you got here, whispers a small voice in the back of my head. You’ve been preparing.

  And perhaps I have.

  I make myself take a shower and dress in a clean white dress, all the while thinking furiously.

  What will I do now? I am on my own in a foreign place, left to my own devices. No one has come to ask me to leave the apartment, but I know that they will. It’s only a matter of time.