The rebellion feels fucking good. I almost wish we’d get caught. It would be the end of everything I’ve worked toward, all the reasons I strive to prove that I’m good enough—even when my head teases and taunts and insults me by demonstrating I’m not. I wish it were that simple. It’s not. They’d make Delilah pay. The correction that would come her way would be worse than anything she’s already gone through.
Yet, my cock still strains to get at her, memories of the way it’d felt to be inside her pussy buzzing throughmy mind like an angry swarm of bees. A desperate noise bubbles from my lips.
The rush of frenetic energy between us whips like a gale force wind. Delilah is no less affected than I am. Her hands make a frantic bid to hang onto me, fingers clawing over my shoulders through my shirt, like she hates me. But also… like shewantsme.
A low, rumbled groan escapes my lips. I’ve caught her off guard, caught myself unaware, too, and the simple intensity of her reaction to what we’re doing makes me want more.
Like a man possessed, I coax her tongue into a greedy, torturous duel with mine, then come up for air, only to go back for more, stealing every last gasp and muttered curse from her. I can’t get enough. Anger and frustration fuel us in equal measure. I’m ravenous as I hold her naked body with one arm firmly belted around her, the other diving into the hair at the nape of her neck, seeking to control the angle of our kiss. I thrust against her stomach, my cock insistent and demanding. The feel of her body giving in but also fighting me at every turn has me coming apart at the seams. Against my rib cage, my heart pummels me from the inside as if it’s trying to escape to meet hers somewhere in the nonexistent space between us.
I’m so wrapped up in our battle that I don’t recognize Cross has returned until he coughs. At the intrusion, I wrench my mouth away, but don’t address him at all. I’m not done. Gripping Delilah’s jaw, I boldly stare into the deep blue depths of her eyes beforeroughly gasping out, “I amnotmy father. No matter what you think.”
Her lips twist as she glances upward. “You’re no different than the apples that’ll eventually fall from this fucking tree.” Those plush lips of hers tremble as she delivers a stony stare.
And the horrible thing is, I can see where she’d think that looking at our compound from the outside. But I also thought she and I… well, I thought she understood me, if only a little. The fact that she doesn’t seem to—it stings.
“Hayze,” Cross grits out, narrowing his shrewd gaze on me, “if anyone decides to come back to have a look at how we’re managing this situation, we’re fucked.” He juts his chin in the direction the Collective had gone earlier. “Go. Seriously. Head them off before any of them come back this way. I’ll finish.”
He’s not wrong. I have to report in soon, we both know it. I nod my agreement and, like a predator tracking its prey, my gaze unerringly finds Delilah and bores into her. If only she knew just how badly I want to crush my mouth to hers and forget everything else.
She remains rooted in front of the tree, breath coming hard and fast, even though nothing is forcing her to remain there except the weight of my stare. “Fine,” she bites out, bitterness bleeding from her tone. “Go ahead. Leave me. After all, that’s what you do.”
My nostrils flare at the agitation in her voice. I can’t help but reach for her—to do I have no clue what—and in the next second, a loudcrackfills the air. It takes a moment to register what’s happened. I blink, dazed, as the stinging sensation spreads throughout my cheek. Holding my palm to it, my eyes lock with Delilah’s anger-filled ones.
“All this,” she huffs, “because I didn’t want their hands on me. Sick fucks.” There’s only a second of hesitation before she spits, “Ihateyou.”
Defeat roiling in my gut, I throw my arms out from my sides. I have to go. “Good luck, Cross,” I mumble, turning and walking away.
The way I leave her there causes a never-ending ache in my chest.
TWELVE
ARROW
Reiningin my thoughts is nearly impossible, but I can’t keep going over all the ways I should have done things differently. It’s only making me feel sick. My mind has been curling and caving in on itself since last night. I stare off in the direction of where I know Delilah is, handsaw dangling at my side. It’s almost as if my body senses hers. Like I’m that attuned to her. Realistically, I know that’s horseshit. My siren is right where the Collective has demanded she be—tied to a motherfucking tree.
And she’ll be there for however long it’s deemed necessary. The unforgiving bark will scrape against her soft skin. Her body will ache. She’ll be on display for the entire compound, what we did to her drying on her skin even as the remainder of our seed runs down the inside of her thighs. Kiefer and Finneas. They both had her outside of the Hunting. They did it to punish her. To assert their dominance. All of it has mewanting to rage. I haven’t even had a chance to tell anyone else about what I saw last night.
As much as I’d like to, there’s simply no abandoning my work to go to her. It’s unlikely she has any desire to see me after what I allowed to happen to her, anyway. Every hand that disappeared between her thighs, was a misery the likes of which I’ve never known.
Can’t think about it right now.
My jaw tightens as I continue sawing through a length of wood. It’s one of many halved logs that need to be cut before we can even begin to rebuild this fucking bridge. I drag in a breath, glancing toward Rafe and Dragan who have begun toting each piece over to where everything is being laid out. I groan internally. We need a ridiculous amount of wood cut to complete the project.
At least the monotonous work gives me something to do. I simply wish it were complicated enough to distract me from withdrawing into my head. Every time I do, I begin to spiral.
The sound of someone at least a hundred feet into the woods drifts to my ears. Branches snap, leaves rustle. I even catch some low laughter. Sounds like Gannon. I don’t want to know what that asshole is up to, so I ignore it.
The physical exertion required of this job and the fact that I have no wish to take off my shirt is making me miserable. Every movement stretches the skin that has only just begun to knit together. Using my forearm,I mop my brow. All across my back, the healing skin prickles as sweat beads over it and travels in rivulets toward the waistband of my pants. I sigh. Most everyone else has discarded their shirts in favor of working bare chested. I grimace, grinding my teeth with impatience for a job that is going to last the entire fucking day. But I don’t care to give anyone—especially not Finneas—another reminder of my insolence or the punishment that’d followed.
“Arrow, do you know where Gannon is?” Kiefer stops beside me, surveying what we’ve gotten done so far.
I set the handsaw I’d been using on the ground before scanning the area. My fists clench, vivid echoes of the way this man made Delilah cry still fresh in my head. I’d almost lost it when he had another opportunity to touch her today. “I thought I heard him a minute ago.” Shrugging, I gesture toward the trees. “Over there, somewhere.”
Kiefer frowns. “Find him and tell him to report to me.” He doesn’t wait for me to agree, instead walks off.
I don’t know why I would ever expect anything different from one of the Collective. Commands are to be honored. Executed without question. Exhaling, I reach up and grip the back of my sweat-coated neck. “Yeah. Okay,” I mumble under my breath. At a shout of glee, I head toward where I think Gannon must be off fucking around. A deep furrow etches itself between my brows.
It takes me a minute, but I finally spot him and shout, “Gannon! Kiefer needs you,” hoping that’s the end of it so I can turn around and go back to work. The faster we finish, the better.
