The Vanity of Roses

by Lily White

  “Interesting,” he breathed out, genuine surprise in his voice.

  The flogger slapped against the inside of my thigh, and I trembled.

  “Will you still punish me?” I asked, my voice cracking with fear.

  Silence as he leaned down to lightly trail kisses along the stinging skin, his breath washing between my legs as he asked, “Who said I’m punishing you?”

  He was working his way up the other when I answered, “You said you’d do the same thing to me. I assume you meant the scars.”

  I could feel him smile against my skin.

  “I won’t mark you with the flogger, if that’s what worries you.”

  Stilling in place, I swallowed another knot of healthy fear.

  “You didn’t say you wouldn’t mark me.”

  His lips brushed the inside of my thigh when he said, “You’ll wear my mark, Lisbeth. But it will only come from me.”

  Teeth sank down on the sensitive skin, hard enough to bruise but not draw blood. A cry volleyed up my throat as my arms and legs pulled at the restraints, the sensual pain stoking a raging fire within me.

  Licking the skin with his tongue, Callan lowered his head to taste my arousal, his hand grabbing the cheek of my ass, thumb pressing deep against the muscle.

  “Ride my tongue, beautiful. Show me how much you want this.”

  My body bucked as the tip of his hot tongue flicked the swollen skin, my hips moving as if on their own, directing him, riding his mouth as he licked and nibbled, driving me just to the edge of ecstasy before pulling back.

  He must have dropped the flogger because both hands gripped my thighs to shove them further apart, his tongue dipping inside me only to pull up to torture my clit.

  I was begging him to push me over that edge, every muscle of my body clenching and releasing, demanding he give me the release I needed so fucking badly.

  Callan had me trapped, completely exposed, so obscenely vulnerable that tears escaped my eyes, my desperation for more unbearable.

  When he pulled his mouth away, I cried out in complaint only to have his hand replace the heat I needed, his fingers thrusting inside in a slow rhythm.

  I heard the flutter of cloth over skin, felt his hand pull away next to be replaced by the head of his cock. He gripped my hands and thrust inside me to fill that empty place that wanted only him.

  So fucking sensitive at that point, I was overtaken by the first orgasm with the first several thrusts, my back arching off the leather bench, my eyes clenching so tight that all I could see were stars.

  And still, he kept going. Driving me with punishing thrusts, haunting me with fingers that slid over my body, claiming every inch of my skin.

  It was wave after crashing wave of pleasure, his cock filling and stretching me taut, his hands holding my hips in place when I tried to wiggle away from it.

  I never thought something could feel so good that it was too much. But somehow he’d discovered a way to punish me with pleasure instead of pain.

  He was a beast, this man.

  A savage.

  A force that could claim me over and over again until I became lost to the fury of his storm.

  When he found his own release, I felt relief that the sensual torture would be over, but then he released my wrists from the restraints and pulled me up, his mouth crashing against mine in a kiss that stole my breath away.

  A simple whisper against my skin was all the warning I needed to know that he would drive my body to exhaustion just for the fun of it.

  “I hope you know I’m not done.”

  His lips brushed down my neck, his teeth nipping at the soft spot of my shoulder.

  “Mercy,” I begged, barely able to breathe as my body pressed against his.

  All I got was a soft laugh in response.

  “Never ask a warrior to show mercy, Lisbeth.”

  My head fell against his shoulder. Exhaustion threatening to pull me under every spell he could possibly weave.

  “Why?”

  His lips stretched into a smile against my cheek. “Because all it makes me want to do is keep going until I destroy you.”

  He lifted me up after unbuckling my feet and carried me to a bed where he made good on the threat.

  I didn’t mind the torture though.

  It’s weird how one’s destruction can be exactly what is needed to repair the damage of a life spent fighting not to fall apart and let go.

  Callan

  Lisbeth talks when she’s tired. It was something I realized as I carried her to my room and tucked her exhausted body next to mine.

  I sat with my back against the headboard, my fingers running through her hair splayed over my stomach. Her eyes were closed, and she was so close to that place where sleep would grab her when a question fell over her kiss swollen lips.

  “Why do you hate me so much?”

  My shoulders shook with silent laughter.

  “I don’t. I think I just proved that point. Unless you need me to prove it again?”

  A smile stretched her lips, exhaustion obvious in the line of it.

  “I don’t think I can move again for a year.”

  She shifted over the mattress, the weight of her breast against my side.

  “It can’t just be from how I treated you, though. I don’t think you’d hate me so much for that.”

  My fingers stilled, a painful memory wrapping its fingers over my throat. There was no point in lying anymore.

  “My mother is dead because of you.”

  At first I thought she’d fallen asleep before I could answer, her body so incredibly still. But then her lips parted again, her breath against my skin a wash of heat.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Brushing hair away from her face, I looked down to see her eyes tipping up to me.

  “Your ball, the murders that took place, it’s because you -“

  “I was going to be sold,” she said, interrupting me. “My mother took me away because of that, but she told me the man I was being given to is who killed all those people. It’s why she ran with me. Why she demanded I couldn’t come back here.”

  Tension gripped my shoulders, confusion bleeding through every thought that raced through my head.

  I cupped my hand beneath Lisbeth’s head to wake her up, refusing to let her slip into oblivion after dropping a confession in my lap that didn’t make sense.

  She grumbled, but I shifted so that I could pull her up.

  “Wake up,” I demanded.

  Her eyes fluttered open, exhaustion keeping them unfocused.

  “But I want to sleep.”

  “You have all night for that. Tell me again what your mother told you.”

  She did, the information choppy if anything given how tired she was, bits and pieces that made little sense, but they were enough to have me marching into Franklin’s office early the next morning.

  Dropping my weight into the chair in front of his desk, I kicked my feet up onto the surface and locked eyes with the lying bastard who’d practically raised me.

  His glare went to my feet first, a dangerous flicker of something behind his normally professional mask.

  “You have three seconds to remove your boots from my desk, or-“

  “You’ll what?” I asked, grinning.

  Something in my voice must have tipped him off that not all was well in the Rose mansion that morning. Lifting his grey eyes to mine, he set his pen on the surface of the desk with a quiet click, sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers at his chin.

  “What is this about, Callan?”

  Rather than dancing around the issue, I cut straight to the heart of it.

  “Who was Lisbeth being sold to?”

  Genuine shock fractured the professional mask, his eyes rounding for just a second as color chased across his features.

  Clearing his throat, he tugged at his tie, regaining control of himself before asking, “Who told you about that?”

  “Does it matt
er? Just answer the fucking question. And when you’re done doing that, you can explain to me why I’m just now learning about this.”

  My tone of voice was too calm, too ordinary. A danger that lurked in the shadows to sneak up from behind.

  Careful to choose his words, Franklin kept his eyes locked to mine, his expression giving nothing away of his thoughts.

  “Marcus sold his daughter to keep from being blackmailed.”

  My lips thinned, the line of them razor sharp.

  “I didn’t ask the reason. I want to know the person to whom she was being sold.”

  “He died the night of her ball.”

  Suddenly on my feet, I slammed my hands against his desk and leaned toward him.

  “Tell me his fucking name.”

  The air between us was charged with the haze of crimson violence. Franklin had less than a second to answer before I showed him why men feared to watch me walk into the pit. Thankfully, he was intelligent. He knew not to fuck with the pissed off bull that wanted nothing more than to bring the entire world down around him.

  “Sergio-“

  “Moritze,” I finished for him.

  Grey eyes met mine. “A man who died that night along with the heads of practically every family Marcus did business with.”

  I didn’t back away to give Franklin his space. There was more to the story he wasn’t telling me.

  “Yet, Antonio still lives. Does he know what was promised to his father?”

  Recalling Antonio’s interest in Lisbeth when he saw her at the arena, I assumed he did. In the silence that lingered between my adoptive father and me, I was daring him to tell me differently.

  “It’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Who killed all those people that night? Lisbeth was led to believe it was the man she was being sold to, but if he died, then it must have been someone else.”

  Franklin rolled his eyes.

  “How the fuck should I know? I wasn’t there.”

  I slammed my hands against his desk again, but rather than diving across to rip his head from his shoulders, I forced myself back to the chair.

  Settling my weight, I hooked one foot over a knee and stared at a man who was quickly becoming a problem.

  “You’re lying to me about something, Franklin. And while I appreciate the help you’ve given me in my life, I’m not opposed to ending yours if I find out you’re doing something behind my back. So, why don’t you come clean now, and tell me what we both know you haven’t mentioned the entire time I’ve been the head of this fucking family?”

  A moment of indecision crept past, his thoughts spinning so fast they were making me dizzy. What could be going on inside that head? I wondered. My patience was wearing thin just as he opened his mouth to admit something he obviously preferred remain hidden.

  “Antonio is aware that Lisbeth was promised because she was intended for him. After she disappeared the night of her ball, we assumed she was dead. Without his father, he wasn’t able to do much to our family for the failed repayment. At least, as far as I thought. It was all swept under the rug. But now-“

  He paused, the word hanging between us.

  “Now?”

  He grimaced. “You were never supposed to take her to that arena, Callan. You were supposed to throw her the fuck away, lock her downstairs and fucking keep her there. I should have known better than to bring her back to this house.”

  Folding my hands in my lap, I adjusted my posture, my teeth grinding so hard the enamel cracked.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  Franklin swiped a hand in the air like the entire thing didn’t matter. “It’s handled. Mortize took the deal I gave him.”

  “Which was?”

  “That he can have Lisbeth if you lose in the ring. Otherwise, she stays with us. And since you never lose-“

  “Is this why you tried to keep me from fighting last week? Do you plan to keep me out of there for the rest of my fucking life? Why didn’t you tell me what was going on, and why the fuck did you make a deal with that bastard?”

  “Because he has records that could bring the entire Rose family to the ground if he wanted. How he got them, I have no idea, but he sent me a sample the day after he saw Lisbeth with you. I suspect whatever he has is what his father was using to blackmail Marcus.”

  I was on my feet again, hands slamming against his desk again, my fury so volatile that hell was about to rain down on every person that dared threaten the woman I had fought for and loved my entire life.

  The thought stilled me in place.

  The truth bleeding out of a violent heart to tap my veins with pure adrenaline.

  “What does he have?”

  Ignoring the threat that loomed large above him, Franklin straightened the cuffs of his jacket.

  “Records that would expose the trafficking ring Marcus ran when he was alive.”

  Every muscle in my body tensed.

  “And that’s my problem, why?”

  His voice sounded calm, but beneath the tone of it I heard barely restrained rage.

  “If that information is discovered by the right people, all of our assets will be gone. The family will be destroyed. We’ll lose everything. And more than likely we’ll be sitting in a fucking jail for the rest of our lives.”

  “I won’t,” I reminded him. “I was only fifteen when Marcus died.”

  Franklin laughed. “Don’t be stupid, Callan. We’ve committed enough crimes since then. Do you think they would stop at just one investigation?”

  This still wasn’t making sense. “We own the police here.”

  “What he has makes it federal. We don’t own them.”

  I tried to wrap my head around what he was telling me, and while the puzzle was clear, pieces were missing, the entire picture not coming together.

  “Why wouldn’t he have used it already? Moritze has hated us for years.”

  Franklin shook his head. “That, I don’t know. But he certainly has a reason to now, doesn’t he? All because you wanted to drag Lisbeth around and show the world she was found.”

  “Then I’ll kill him.”

  He was silent for a second, his jaw ticking like a bomb about to explode. “I wish it was that easy.”

  “Why isn’t it?”

  “Because the files will be sent out if something happens to him. At least, that’s what he told me.”

  We stared at each other, both refusing to give ground, both absolutely irate at the situation we found ourselves in.

  But it still didn’t make sense.

  “You’re lying,” I accused because it was the only explanation that made sense. He was feeding me bullshit that was falling apart with every new question I asked.

  “I’m not.”

  “Then tell me why Mortize would even take a fucking deal regarding the fights rather than just ending us to wipe his hands of it.”

  “He wants Lisbeth,” Franklin answered, as if that should be enough of an explanation.

  It wasn’t.

  “Why the fuck would a woman matter so much to him?”

  Franklin shoved to his feet to go nose to nose with me, his voice a deep growl that betrayed the calm facade he always attempted to give the world.

  “Because she’s the true heir to the Rose fortune, Callan. All our assets. All the accounts. You know that and so does he. She’s worth more to him with this family intact than the pathetic vengeance he’d get for bringing us down. Moritze isn’t a fucking idiot. If he can take what’s ours, he will. Now do you understand?”

  The asshole was playing the long game, and I’d been so caught up with Lisbeth I’d failed to notice what was going on right in front of my face.

  I pushed away from him before following through with the need I had to rip his head off. Pacing the length of the room, I punched a wall, my knuckles busting open as plaster rained down to litter the floor.

  A heavy sigh poured from my lips several minutes later when I turned to face him. “I’m piss
ed at you for lying to me. For keeping this from me.”

  “I couldn’t let you walk into the ring with this knowledge on your shoulders. It would distract you, and you know it.”

  The son of a bitch was right, but it didn’t excuse what felt like a betrayal.

  “So, what now?”

  “We keep you out of the ring from now on. I worded the deal specifically, Callan. You would have to die in order for him to win. As long as you don’t fight, that can’t happen.”

  Cold laughter shook my shoulders. “And why would he be stupid enough to agree to that?”

  Franklin’s expression fell, the truth dropping him back into his seat as if his legs wouldn’t hold him up any longer.

  “Because everyone knows how addicted you are to fighting. Even Moritze. And I’m willing to bet he’s not-so-patiently waiting for the day you break down and walk into that ring again. He thought he had you with the last guy. You should have seen his face when you snapped that asshole’s neck. He knows you’ll need to fight again. It’s just a matter of time.”

  Granted, it was a problem. I was in that ring at least once a month, twice if I was in a particularly shitty mood.

  But maybe there was a solution all of us could live with, at least until I figured out how to take down Moritze.

  “I won’t fight until this is handled,” I told him, still seething that he’d kept this from me for so long.

  Franklin looked up at me like I was as much of a liar as him. “And how, exactly, do you plan to manage that?”

  My grin was anything but friendly.

  “By giving into my addition for something else, at least until the day I get to release all my built up tension by gutting Moritze alive and pulling out his intestines to use as the rope that strangles him. I refuse to let this go.”

  Fortunately for all of us, I had another addiction I could turn to.

  A particular woman.

  A thorn in my side.

  A Rose that by any other name would still smell as sweet...even if she was a giant pain in the ass that drove me mad.

  Lisbeth

  I woke up in the morning more confused than I’d ever been. Callan was absent from the room, and I could see the signs that he’d been up already and left. The moisture in the bathroom from when he’d showered, his closet door slightly open from when he got dressed, my suitcases moved to a place where I could easily find them, as if he’d intended for me to know what to do without being told.