“Good. Then you understand how friendship works because I’ve seen you with the Unholy. Why can’t you let me in?”
I shove away from the table. Stalk over to her. Turn her around. Grab the arms of her chair, caging her. Lean in close. Nose-to-nose. Lips-to-lips. “Quit while you’re ahead, Duchess.”
“Why do you always get angry with me?”
I close my eyes and brush my cheek over hers. Inhale her in as I shake my head. “Not at you.”
Her hands are on my back, stroking, soothing. “What happened, Havoc?”
My mother happened.
Emmett happened.
They killed everything good in me and made me into this…thing…who wants to light the world on fire and piss on the ashes.
I open my eyes, intending to tell her about Alice and Emmett and the beatings and the—
Nothing comes out. Just silent agony where words should be. Words I’ve never spoken aloud. Not with anyone, not Faith, who witnessed most of it but wisely never spoke of the horrors. Not even when I knew Jamie Ellis was being abused by her shitbag of a father. I kept my ugly hidden. Buried beneath an impenetrable silence.
As if the silence could make it less real.
“Bad memories, Kerri, that’s all,” is what I tell her. It’s all I’ve got. All I say because I’m broken. I don’t know how to say anything else. But Kerri’s touch helps me forget. Ineed her touchto feel human again. “Done eating?”
“Yes, why?”
I grab her hands and pull her to her feet. “I’m not.”
Baffled, Kerri tries to skid to a halt, but I haul her toward the bedroom. “Okay, go finish your food.”
I throw her an evil grin as I keep on walking. “That’s not the meal I want.”
“Havoc, no. Wait.”
Nah, I’ve wanted to taste this woman since July.
“I’ve waited long enough, Duchess.” We reach the room and I shove her inside. “I’ve been damn patient with you.”
“What in the world are you talking about?” Kerri walks backward, and when she hits the bed, I push her onto the mattress. Her gasp of outrage, coupled with her scowl, is adorable. And when I bend over and grab the waist of her jeans, then tug, realization finally dawns on her. “What are you doing?”
Off come the pants.
“You.”
“Says who?” Kerri asks, trying to come off assertive.
Cute, but pointless.
“Says me.” I make eye contact with her as I slowly unlatch my belt. My fingers deftly move over the cold metal of the buckle. Then I’m gliding the black leather through the loops, never taking my gaze off her. Daring her to break our visual standoff. I see the ice wall she tries to hide behind melt, and her throat moves with the effort of swallowing it down. I place a knee on the bed, and she crab walks backward until she hits the headboard.
With my weight fully on my knee, I put a hand on each side of her hips. Crawl over her and pin her with my heavy body, using my size to dominate her.
I allow an arrogant laugh to escape my lips because where the hell does she think she’s going? “Tell me I didn’t make you feel good last night.”
Kerri closes her eyes, her cheeks flushed. “You did.”
I kiss her forehead, then whisper, “Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you.”
Her eyes reopen. She grazes her lower lip with her teeth. She doesn’t answer, and I’d bet my left nut she’s waiting for her almighty Brighton-fucking-Kerri control to kick in.
