I hear him—for it's definitely a man—taking a deep inhale, and my chest automatically follows, sweet air rushing into my starved lungs. We continue to breathe together, the black dots receding the more oxygen I take in.
“That's it, Dove. Good girl,” he praises, and I startle, my body twitching as I realize that it's Aeron who coaxed me out of my panic attack.
Once I can speak, I ask him, “How did you know what to do?” My voice is shaky as fuck, but at least I can talk, so props to me.I don't expect an answer, surely the whole point of putting me in here is to fuck with my mind. Which begs the question of why he's down here in the first place.
“Jude used to get panic attacks after June…” He trails off at the mention of June, and it takes a second for my brain to make the connection. When I do, my whole body goes ice-cold.
“June Taylor, Jude's twin and your?—”
“Little sister,” he interrupts in a tight voice, and my mouth snaps shut as tears prick my eyes. I never knew June, but we were the same age and I realized how easily it could have been me who was shot down. How much I wanted it to be me when I heard, just so that the horror of my existence would stop. “After the Soldiers gunned her down right in front of Jude, he would have night terrors and regular panic attacks. So I learnt how to bring him back,” he tells me, his words clipped, and although I know he's trying to hide it, I can hear the pain in his rough voice.
“Are you going to kill me, Aeron?” I ask quietly, my heart pounding painfully in my chest as I await his answer. Unlike years ago, I'm not ready to die just yet. Not until I've got my brother Rook out from my sperm donor's clutches.
Aeron doesn't answer for so long that I think he won't, but when he does I jump a little at the sound of his voice.
“Not yet, Dove,” he says into the darkness, his tone hard and unforgiving. “But maybe one day.”
“Fair enough,” I reply with a bravado that I'm not sure I feel all that well anymore. Panic flutters in my stomach like cannibal moths at the thought that these boys have already started breaking me down, unlike their predecessors. “Just let me know so that I can inform my fans in good time. Can't disappoint them.”
“Your fans?” he questions, and I smirk even though I know he can't see it.
“Look up 'Daddy's Little Angel’ on OnlyFans,” I tell him, my handle making me smile wider. Gotta love irony, given that I'm saving the money I earn from the body that myfathergave away for free, to escape him and take his only son and heir too. Thank fuck I scheduled content to go out way in advance, though that'll run out soon.
My grin becomes Cheshire Cat proportions wide when I hear a rumble from the clearly grumpy devil in the room.
“You'll be shutting that shit down when we let you out of that coffin,” he informs me, and a bark of laughter peels from my chest.
“Sure, Devil Man. You gonna replace the decent income I get from people watching me flick the bean?” I sass back, my cheeks hurting with my smirk as another growl sounds out. “How about I give you guys a discount code as a gesture of goodwill? Between enemies?”
Hands slap down on the glass, and I fucking twitch so hard that I bang my head.Motherfucker!
“You will shut that down and delete any evidence of you ‘flicking the bean’ as you so eloquently put it,” Aeron snarls, and although I can't make out his face in the pitch-black room, his tone tells me he's pissed as all hell. “I won't have anyone else viewing what belongs to me.”
My brows raise at that, and I just can't help myself poking the bear, or the devil as that’s more apropos of the man before me.
“Awww, Aeron baby. I knew you cared,” I coo, laughing when the sound that comes from his chest is as loud as thunder and just as hard. My thighs clench with the noise, wetness inching down them from my aching cunt.
“Get some sleep, Dove. You'll need it for what we have planned for tomorrow,” he tells me, his voice back to that cold, unfeeling tone that he seems to have perfected.
He doesn’t speak again, but I don't hear the door so I assume he stays with me which is all kinds of head fuckery. Why lock me in a glass coffin in the pitch-black only to keep me company so I'm not as scared? There’s a comfort in knowing that he's here with me though, his presence filling me with a calmness that I definitely shouldn't fucking feel around the son and heir of a rival gang.
Confused thoughts swirl around my head, and I wonder if I'll ever get to sleep. Eventually, I do, my dreams full of being chased in the sunshine by four dark figures, and rather than a feeling of terror, I'm laughing and desperate to be caught.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“FALLING TOO” BY VEDA GAIL
LARK
Iawake to four shadows surrounding my coffin—yep, that sounds fucked even in my mind—and soft candlelight flickering off the walls. Their faces are covered in shadows, the candles clearly behind them, yet I know that it's the Tailor boys instinctively. Yeah, I will not read into that too much right now.
“Wakey, wakey, beautiful Nightingale,” Jude's voice floats to me as the shadows move to one side of me and I hear the click of padlocks, the lid unlocking.
A rush of warm air caresses my naked skin, and I realize with a jolt that the room is warm, which explains the lack of shivering on my part. I wiggle my toes as I sit up, stretching my arms upwards and twisting my torso.
“Shit,” Knox hisses, but I catch it and give him a wink.
“I bet you're remembering what it felt like to be balls deep inside me, aren't you Daddy?” I ask in a purr, and he rubs a hand over his face. If he wasn't reliving the scene that lives rent-free inmy head before, he is now if the way his jeans have strained over his crotch is any sign.My work here is done.
