“Aww, let me kiss it better.” Meela grabs my wrist and attempts to kiss the ache away.
“Quit being a menace!” I giggle, pushing at her forehead. “You’re going to make me pee myself.”
My gaze catches on Sandman’s piercing blue irises, and my breath stalls in my throat. The way he watches me sends an icy prickle through my veins. I know what he’s thinking, or rather, whathe’sfantasizing. I’ve seen that look a thousand times before.
He wants to fuck me in the most savage way possible. I don’t have to touch between his thighs to know he’s rock-hard right now. My growing midsection hasn’t tempered his lust or hatred for me. In fact, the larger my belly gets, the more possessive he becomes.
I should look away, but his stormy gaze holds me captive. The hate, anger, and lust radiating in those alluring blue orbs suffocates me just as effectively as a hand around my throat. Sandman is a train wreck waiting to happen.
He barrels forward, though there’s a sharp curve in the tracks ahead. Self-preservation would have a sane person braking, but not him. Not this brutal, savage man. He stays the course, and when the train derails, crashing in a fiery blaze, he’ll emerge from the ashes—broken and bloody.
Still, he would board the next one, continuing the dangerous cycle because all he knows is chaos and destruction. It’s his Achilles’ heel—a deadly obsession that’s bound to destroy him one day, but until then, his reign of terror will consume anyone caught in the crossfire.
Unfortunately for me, I’m in the middle of it all. Unlike him, I’m not strong enough to walk away from the wreckage.
“How are things between you two?” Meela asks, interrupting my dismal thoughts.
I blink and finally tear my gaze away from him. “Same ole, same ole.”
“I’ve been thinking,” she whispers for my ears only. “I can help you get away. I’ve got some coins saved and I’m getting more when I turn eighteen. Just say the word.”
“Do you really think I can escape him? He’ll find me, Meela.”
And when he does, there’ll be hell to pay. Right now, I have a little freedom—not much, but enough to breathe. If I run, he’ll lock me up for good.
In any case, whatever money Meela gives me won’t last, and she’s not turning eighteen for a while. I don’t have a cent to my name. Sandman made me quit Shadows after the abortion debacle.
And let’s be real—I wouldn’t get very far with two babies hanging off my coattails. It’s a pipe dream.
“Here you go, baby mama,” Leah says, depositing two overflowing plates in front of me.
I force a smile on my face. “Thanks.”
“Welcome.” Leah turns on her heel and heads back to the buffet.
I begin eating, and the subject is dropped, though my appetite is completely gone now. After several minutes, I give up the pretense and just sit there, contemplating Meela’s offer.
Even if I were to escape Sandman somehow and disappear, witness-protection style, I don’t know the first thing about taking care of a baby—let alone two—on my own. Heck, I can count on one hand how many times I even held a baby.
“Chop, chop,” Meela orders, clapping her hands at me. “It’s almost time for games.”
I nod and force down a couple more bites before dropping my fork onto my plate again. “I’m ready.”
Two hours and way too many games later, I’m exhausted and desperately need a nap. Knowing how my newfound family turns any occasion into a party, my baby shower won’t end until late evening. Even then, the revelry will continue well into the early morning hours.
“Heading upstairs to rest for a bit,” I tell Meela and Leah. “Let me know when it’s time to open gifts.”
I leave the noise behind and make my way upstairs to Sandman’s room. Once inside, I slip off my shoes and climb onto the bed, humming under my breath as my body sinks into the soft mattress. In an hour or two, I’ll be recharged and ready to go back down.
I toss my tiara onto the nightstand and pull the blanket around me. Just as my eyes start to close, the door creaks open—and my karma in human form walks in.
I jackknife into a sitting position, clutching the blanket to my chest as if the cotton barrier will protect me from him. “W-what do you want?”
“Let’s not play games,” Sandman replies gruffly and shrugs out of his cut. “You know exactly what I want.”
“I’m tired,” I whisper.
“Don’t care.” He begins undressing slowly, deliberately, taunting me with the knowledge that I’m powerless. My gaze tracks his every movement until he stands naked before me. “Are you going to open your legs willingly, or do I have to pry them apart? Either way, you’re getting fucked.”
