“Get the fuck away from me, you sociopathic piece of shit!” I warn him, grabbing the lamp on the end table.
“Stop your nonsense, Firecracker.” He rolls his eyes and huffs, stalking around the bed, advancing toward me.
Panic surges through me as my eyes flick to that cock, swinging hard and heavy against his lower thigh. “Stay awayfrom me, Rory,” I warn him again, a knot choking my throat while the treasonous tears rise, blurring my vision.
He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even care about the blood dripping down his back and onto the floor.
I chuck the lamp at him, hitting his shoulder, then lunge over the bed and get to my feet, rushing for the door. I’ll run right into the woods and climb the nearest tree if I have to.
My hand connects with the doorknob, rattling it. It clicks. Fresh air bursts through the crack. But body heat attacks me from behind.
“No! No!” I scream when he gets his arms around me, chaining my hands in front of me. I bash my head back as hard as I can. It hits his jaw.
“Fuck!” he growls, but doesn’t break his hold.
The tears stream down my face. My blood rages. But everything hurts, and I’m so tired. So tired.
“Bloody hell, Briella!” Rory stops in the middle of the room, his grip tightening. My heart skips a beat at him saying my name. Then, his lips move to my ear. I flinch, the fear icing my blood, but he doesn’t nip it. He doesn’t sink his teeth into the flesh. “Shhh, Lass, shhh…”
I freeze at the sudden change, the hush sending my pulse spinning. My stomach somersaults once. Twice. His muscles lock me to him, his rock-hard chest heaving against my back.
“Not gonna fucking hurt ye, little Lass,” he murmurs against my ear, soothing me with the hushing sound again.
What the hell is he doing? And why is it sending heat right to my core? Stupid fucking shitty trauma bond. The worst of the trauma is caging me now. And a piece of me breaks off inside. Rory turns his head, mouth on my hair, inhaling my scent. I tremble, leaning away, still crying, nearly breaking down.
“Raphael would cut off my dick with a dull axe if I use it on ye, Briella. Briella…” he purrs in my ear, but I can’t seem to stopcrying. “Aww, come on, mi’Lass. I’m not fucking Jude.” He hauls me back to the bed, but he lowers me, gentler this time. He still bends over, staring down at me. “Not gonna rock ye like a sweet babe like he does. Now…” he touches one finger under my chin, tipping it, “show me that fire I love.”
Swiping at the tears on my cheeks, I reach deep inside and find a spark. I feed it, pressing my lips into a tight seam.
Rory smirks. “There’s my beautiful Firecracker.”
Did he just call me…?
I’m so distracted by the term, I don’t notice he’s unzipped the hoodie all the way down. I wince as he shoves it off me, more surprised when he folds it on the nearby table.
“Now, I had a feeling Raphael would put us together tonight. So, I cleaned up all nice for ye. Stole a bunch of Seth’s damn candles.” He winks and reaches for me.
I cringe, pulling away, until he combs a hand through my hair, playing with the strands. Tingles and goosebumps erupt all over my skin. My face flushes.
When he lowers his hand to my dress strap again, I narrow my eyes, tempted to bite it. Then, he levels with me. “I can take it off. Or ye can strip, Lass. But it’s coming off. Kinship Law.”
I suck in a deep breath, then remove his hand, almost twisting his fingers. But I don’t strip quite yet. “He saiddiscipline.”
Rory’s smirk grows. “Light discipline. Then lots of worship.”
“Why?” I scrunch my brows.
“Need me an edge, Briella. The barest edge after all the shit you’ve done to me.”
“The shitI’vefucking?—”
He crushes his mouth to mine, cutting off my words. Molten heat attacks my insides. My hand comes up, ready to strike, but he catches both my wrists and pins me to the bed, dick grinding against my pussy through the dress. His beard rasps against myskin. God, why does he have to kiss me like this? He tilts his head, deepening the kiss, feeding on me. He steals my breath and spreads a fever in my veins. His mouth is hot, exploring, tasting, drinking.
I’m ready to combust from the sizzling energy, the pressure mounting inside me. I hate how I soften into the bed, melting into him. He’s the worst of them all. How can I be responding? Because it’s the worst of the bond. My body’s fucked up way of taking some power back…somehow.
When he lowers my hands to my stomach, he reaches up to tug at my dress straps, pulling the fabric off in a single sweep.
“Fucker!” I spit out, but he covers my body with his, caging me beneath him.
