by Ella Miles
It was all a dream. Bishop isn’t really here. He’s not in my head.
I stand up and head to the bathroom to get a drink of water in my panties and tank top. My hair is a disheveled mess, but it has nothing on the nerves shooting through me.
I remember what Bishop wants. I remember what thoughts he’s put in my head if I fail. But this task he wants me to do, it’s too much. It might not even work.
I grab the cup next to the sink, turn on the faucet, and fill it. But I don’t drink the water. I slam the glass down on the counter, watching the glass chip.
I push air quickly through my nostrils, trying to calm the fuck down.
No, it will work. I know what Bishop wants, and I know exactly how to do it. Bishop knows me well. Possibly better than any other man—even Zeke. He’s figured out my head, my thoughts, everything.
I wish I could fail. I wish I didn’t have the skills to do the task Bishop gave me. If I tried and failed, that would be fine. I would have done what Bishop asked. But I won’t fail.
The task will require me to ruin a love—a love I won’t be able to heal, mend, fix. I can work stitch by stitch, thread by thread, to put the broken pieces back together, but there will always be one single, broken thread. I can earn forgiveness, but he will never forget. This will become yet another sin that haunts us.
We already have enough sins—enough pain.
So what if I commit one more? Our love has survived before. In some ways, it’s survived worse.
No.
Nothing is worse.
“Baby? You okay?” Zeke’s voice interrupts my thoughts.
My head is dropped. I never turned the light on, so he can’t see my face. I don’t want to lie to Zeke, not with my words, but I can let him feel what he wants to feel—reassurance that I’m okay. I just got up to get some water. I’m good. We’re good.
Inside my body is in turmoil; my mind is racing to come up with a plan, any plan, that ends with the truth instead of a sin.
I walk over to Zeke and place my hands against his hard, rough chest. I feel my way through his scars, finding his beating heart—so steady, so calm. He’s my rock, my anchor. My calm in the storm. Just feeling him now is enough to save me from my future sins.
I stand on my tiptoes, find his lips between his stubble, and kiss him. It’s meant to be a reassuring kiss, one to let him know I’m fine. One to let him taste me and realize I haven’t spent time getting sick or thinking about Bishop.
But of course, when our lips touch, our fire sparks between us—that need we have and haven’t been able to satisfy zips back and forth. I get the pull in my core, tingling between my legs, the need that only he can satisfy. I grab his neck; he grabs my waist, lifts me high, and tilts my head to make it easier to kiss me.
We stumble back, hitting the counter against my ass. I suck his lip. His tongue teases mine. I want to let my hands wander over his body. I want to feel his biceps, his chest, his ass. I want to roll my hips against his body and find the hardness I seek straining against his boxers.
I don’t let myself go there. I keep my hands at his neck, letting my hands grip onto his hair for dear life. I’m like a horny teenage boy who wants to fuck his girlfriend for the first time but doesn’t want to push her. I don’t want to push Zeke. If I do, I could make him feel worse instead of better. There are no guarantees, that’s what the doctor said. But I guarantee you that we are going to love each other forever, so we have forever to figure out how to have sex again.
That’s what I tell myself anyway when I keep my hands on his neck instead of feeling over his body. Zeke, on the other hand, has no problem letting his hands roam. When his hand finds my breast beneath my shirt, I gasp like it’s the first time I’ve ever been touched.
“These have gotten bigger,” he whispers, his stubble brushing against my cheek. I want his stubble against my thigh. It’s not fair for him to keep eating me out and not get anything in return. Not fair to either of us. I want a turn to make him feel good, a turn at licking and tormenting and pulling him to the edge of orgasm.
Zeke keeps going, and I know where this is headed—the same thing that has happened every night for the last two weeks. I’ll be riding Zeke’s face, or he’ll have me spread on the bed as three fingers fuck me. I’m not complaining, I could die a happy woman as long as Zeke kept doing that, but tonight, with Bishop in my head, I need more. And Zeke isn’t ready to give me what I need yet.
I grab Zeke’s hand and pull it away from my chest. Slowly, I let my body fall down from my high as I break our kiss apart.
Zeke tenses but doesn’t say anything. He can’t push me to let him touch me when I don’t get to touch him.
“Is there anything I could do to make you hate me?” I ask, needing to feel connected to Zeke in any way I can. If words are the only way, then so be it. And I need reassurance that if I do what Bishop wants, I won’t be ending us. At least not forever.
Zeke turns me around, so I’m facing the mirror, his chest against my back. His hands go around my waist, and his head drops to my ear.
“No. Nothing you could do could ever make me hate you.”
“Nothing? That seems impossible.”
He shakes his head, his eyes heating into dark, icy slants piercing through the armor I’ve put up to hide what’s really going on in my head. He knows there is a reason I asked my question. He’s probing, testing my walls. I won’t let him in. This is as far as he gets. I can’t break through his armor to be able to touch him, either.
“Nothing—because you love me. Any choice you make, you wouldn’t be doing to intentionally hurt me. Your choices would be made in love, even if I couldn’t see it.”
It’s a good answer, but not the truth. He’s going to hate me. At least temporarily. He may forgive me, but hating someone you love is easier than he thinks. He’s forgotten how I made him feel before when I betrayed him.
I stare at him in the mirror, my eyes threatening him, calling bullshit.
“Is there anything I could do that would make you stop loving me?” I ask.
He draws in a breath like I wounded him simply by asking the question. He finds my left hand in the dark, connecting it to his own. With our hands intertwined, I see our rings touching. Two pieces of metal barely worth a thousand dollars, but to us, they are worth everything.
“Is there anything I could do to make you stop loving me?” his voice is husky as he turns my question on me.
“No, I could never stop loving you.”
I feel his heart thumping against my back. It’s sputtering at my words, speeding up at my honesty.
His grip on my stomach tightens where my belly has started to protrude, getting thicker but not revealing my secret to the world just yet. He holds my stomach as possessively as he holds the rest of me.
“I will never stop loving you, both of you. I could be held at gunpoint and told the only way I can live is to stop loving you, and even then, my heart would never betray you. You could murder every other person on the planet, and I would still love you. You could take everything from me, all the money I’ve ever earned, and I would still love you. You could fuck another man, and I would still love you.”
His voice catches, but he forces himself to continue. “You could stop loving me. You could fall for another man, and I would always love you. Our love is different than anything I’ve felt before. Even Lucy. I loved her, but my love wasn’t everlasting. I love my friends, but I would destroy them all tomorrow if it was the only way to keep you. Our love has the power to annihilate entire cities. I would light a city and watch it burn for you.”
“I would never ask you…” I say, but I stop myself. We both know it’s a lie. I might. I might ask Zeke to do unthinkable things. We have a lot of enemies. I’m sure they all haven’t come out of hiding. We will always have enemies. One wrong move means those enemies have power until we destroy them. Those enemies could force us to do horrible, villainous things. We would both do them in a heartbeat t
o save the other, and to protect our family.
Zeke kisses my cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll eliminate our enemies soon. Our family will be safe. We will get out.”
He’s never admitted he wants to leave this world before. I can’t imagine him not carrying a gun every day. I can’t think of anything he would enjoy doing more than risking his life to save others. But I understand the desire to get out—to feel safe. I just don’t know if getting out will ensure that I’m safe.
Zeke and Enzo have been getting together to plan. This time, I won’t be allowed to fight. I have another life to worry about. Risking that life might be the one truly unforgivable sin. But, as Zeke said, it’s the one thing I would never do.
“We will get Bishop. We’ll drag him here and make him fix you before we kill him,” Zeke says.
I nod.
“And Julian—“
“You’ll kill him before he says a damn word.”
He smirks. “I’m done letting Julian Reed talk. He’s a dead man.”
I let out a breath, considering telling my last truth when it comes to Julian. But if he’s dead, it won’t matter. Telling the truth won’t change anything—one less pain for Zeke.
Zeke pulls me to him, until my ass is pushed against his hardness.
Wait…
He’s hard. I feel it.
My needy eyes meet his. Does this mean?
“Soon,” he whispers his promise. It’s the best damn word he’s ever said to me. Soon, I can reconnect with my husband. Soon, we will be whole again. Soon, our enemies will be dead.
20
Zeke
“Too slow,” Enzo says as he punches me lightly in the jaw.
I growl, my head popping back as I try again to swing in his direction without getting hit. This time he hits my stomach before I make contact with his eye.
He’s been pulling all his punches every time we’ve sparred; my broken body can’t take a full hit just yet without crumpling. I need the exercise and the practice, though. We are running out of time to defeat Julian and capture Bishop, and I’m a long way from where I should be physically.
I go for a kick. I’m more a punch with my fists kind of guy, but maybe I need to change my game. Enzo grabs my knee, pushing me to the floor.
“Fuck,” I growl when he has me pinned beneath him. I’m beyond frustrated at my weak body. I can’t get any part of me to work properly. Not my brain, my fists, my legs, my cock. I’ve been married to Siren for almost a month now, and I haven’t fucked her. We haven’t even tried, I’m too scared. Sure, I’ve felt things, gotten hard around her, but not enough to try. What if I fail? What if I can’t satisfy her the way I used to? What if I’m not enough?
Enzo sighs and hands me a water. “Your head isn’t in it today.”
“I’m just out of shape.”
Enzo sits next to me, but I remain lying on the ground like the weakling I am.
“No, it’s more than that. You may not be in great shape or be able to throw punches as quickly as you used to, but there is nothing wrong with your head. You should still be able to anticipate my throws. We’ve been fighting since we were six. You know my moves. You know my weaknesses and how to exploit them. You haven’t even attempted to avoid a punch or thrown anything I couldn’t anticipate. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Just tired and want this fight to be over.”
“Bullshit.”
I stare up at the black ceiling of the boxing room. The room only has a single light shining, but most of the time, Enzo prefers to have the light off so he can train in the dark. He has the upper hand in the dark, that’s why most of our advances happen at night. He can see what others can’t.
I don’t have the sixth sense he does, but I’ve trained with him in the dark long enough to know how to fight in the shadows as well as the light.
“We have a plan to kill Julian. And I have a team doing round the clock reconnaissance on Bishop. We won’t fail. You don’t even need to fight. I can handle it and you know it. If the fight needs to go down tomorrow, Kai and I can take care of it. So what the hell is going on?”
I shake my head. I’m not talking to Enzo about my limp dick problem and how I don’t think I’ll be enough for my wife.
“Nothing.” I sit up and drink the entire bottle of water. “I’m just over this today.”
“Bull-fucking-shit.”
My eyes shoot at him. “Stay out of it. It’s not your concern.”
“Do you want me to get Kai, so she can drag whatever is stuck up your ass out of you? You’ve changed. You walk around like a zombie most of the time. I know you. You aren’t scared of a fight, even with a kid on the way. You always thought you’d die for someone you love, dying to protect your kid doesn’t scare you. So what is it?”
I push myself up. “I’m not doing this.”
“Fine.” Enzo pulls out his phone and dials. “Stingray, Zeke needs you. He’s in the boxing ring.”
With that, Enzo walks off steaming.
Instead of running off, I sit on the bench and wait for Kai. I don’t want Siren to worry, and she will if I don’t convince Kai that I’m fine.
I hear Kai’s footsteps.
“I’m fine, Stingray. You don’t need to worry about me. Your husband is just overreacting as usual.”
“I’m not your stingray.”
My head pops up, trying to find her eyes in the dark. It takes me a second, but I see her standing on the mat in the far corner.
“Where’s Kai?” I ask.
“She thought you and I should talk. But if you’d rather talk to Kai, I can go get her,” Siren says.
“No, I don’t want to talk to Kai.”
“Good.” Siren stretches her arms overhead and then goes through some practice swings.
“What are you doing?” I ask, watching her every move in the dark. Like a dance, she warms up. I’m mesmerized, but also angry, because I know what she’s trying to do, and I won’t do it.
“Warming up.”
“For what?”
“To fight.”
“We aren’t fighting.”
“Yes, we are.
“You’re pregnant.”
“The doctor said I could do any physical activity that I had been previously doing. Well, before I was pregnant I fought, I boxed, I did Krav Magra. This is perfectly safe.”
“I’m not fighting you.”
She smirks. “You fight me, or prepare to get used like a punching bag.”
I frown, but I find myself standing and walking onto the mat. What am I doing? I’m not going to fight her. But my hands are up, protecting my face.
She throws a punch, but not holding back at all like Enzo did.
“Siren, stop.”
Another jab hits me on the forearm. It’s strong, swift. It’s going to leave a bruise on my arm, and most likely, her hand.
“Stop,” I say, trying to keep my cool. She’s carrying my baby and willing to risk his or her life for what? To convince me I’m strong enough to fight? Even if she weren’t carrying a baby right now, I wouldn’t fight her.
“No, fight me.”
She kicks this time, hitting my hip—too close for comfort to my fucked up groin.
“Siren.” I grit my teeth as I say her name, my anger grinding my teeth together until it’s painful.
“Come on, Zeke. Throw a punch. You know I’ll dodge it.”
“No.”
“Why not?” She throws another punch, hitting me in the chest.
“Because you’re pregnant.”
“You don’t have to knock me out, just throw a jab in my direction. Something, anything.”
“No.”
The hits start coming more rapidly now as she dances around me, her footwork excellent like she’s actually fighting me in a ring with judges and everything. I’ve never just watched her skills before. She’s practiced a lot. She has incredible technique, perfected over the years. She’s more than capable of protecting herself in a fight.
>
I’m mesmerized by her feet and not watching her hands like I should. She hits me, full out, on the face. I feel myself falling back, and I don’t bother cushioning my fall. I just fall until I hit the hard mat.
Siren stares at me, waiting for me to break, to shatter, to feel something she wants me to feel. But I don’t have a clue what she’s doing, other than pissing me off.
Carefully, she kneels next to me, glaring at me like she’s the one who is pissed instead of me.
“You don’t get to be angry. You’re the one risking our child’s life to make some idiotic point,” I say.
“No,” she snaps, her words harsh and painful. She takes a deep breath, softening. “You are the one hurting our child by not letting me in. I was patient, and I’ll continue to be patient. I don’t need your cock to be happily married to you, but I do need my husband. I need him to think of himself as whole and not broken. I need him to fight when things get hard, not give up. You’re giving up. You’re letting them win. I need you to start fighting again. I need you to take what you want. I need you to—“
I grab her, shutting her up with my lips as I pull her to me. Our lips slam together, her mid-sentence and me parted, leaving us kissing in an awkward meeting. Our mouths half open, our teeth crushing, our lungs half-full of oxygen and carbon dioxide. Neither of us prepared for this kiss.
Siren thought she’d have to push me further to get me to break, and I wasn’t expecting to break so easily, but our baby pushed me to the edge. I would do anything—ANYTHING—to protect our child.
Although, this kiss isn’t just about our baby. It’s about me too. I’m tired of waiting. I’m tired of thinking I’m less than, physically broken. It’s time to find out. Time to be brave. Time to push the demons out.
Palmer may have had her own issues that led her to raping me, issues I can forgive her for. But I was still raped, violated in a way I never thought I’d be touched. I thought I could stop it, but I couldn’t stop it any easier than I could a bullet entering my body.
My cock has gotten hard plenty of times over the last few weeks. That isn’t holding me back anymore.
