Twisted Betrayal

by Davis, Siobhan

  But this.

  This is…

  A shuddering breath leaves my body, and I have no way of articulating the venom I possess for that man.

  He will suffer. Even if I die ensuring vengeance.

  “That bastard needs to pay,” Lauder says, as if he has a direct line to my thoughts.

  “I should’ve persevered the night I broke into their place and gone after him instead of stopping to tackle Louis.”

  “Louis deserved to die.” Hunt grips my shoulder. “And we all knew it was a long shot. Hearst is well protected. You stood no real chance of getting to him.”

  “I need to get out of here.” I eyeball Hunt. “There’s a fight club in Nexton, a couple towns over.”

  “It’s too risky, Kai.”

  I crack my knuckles. “I don’t have a choice.” I let him see the darkness clawing at my insides. “I need to beat someone to a bloody pulp, or I’ll take it out on her.”

  “She’s been hurt enough.” Lauder’s response is predictable, and it grates on my nerves.

  “Stop fucking interfering.” I hiss. “She’s mine to worry about, and I know she’s hurting. This has devastated her.” I grip the side of the island. “Why the fuck do you think I’m risking discovery? I need to fight, or I’ll do something I regret. I don’t want to take it out on her.”

  And while a part of me knows she needs to be punished so she knows not to fucking keep shit from me again, I can find more creative ways of making her suffer.

  Hunt has been watching me. “Okay.” He straightens up. “But we’ll need to make contingency plans to leave sooner than later.”

  “Agreed.” I level a look at Hunt. “Start the car, and I’ll follow you out.”

  He leaves, and I face Lauder. “Can I trust you to watch over her and not touch her?”

  He faces off with me, anger splaying across his features. The enforced weed ban when we first arrived here made me realize it’s been so long since I’ve seen genuine expression on his face. Even now, I’d take his anger over his casual, stoner face any day.

  “I haven’t laid a finger on her,” he says through gritted teeth.

  “But you want to,” I challenge.

  “Doesn’t mean I would.”

  “See that you don’t.” I glare at him. “She’s mine.”

  “She could’ve been mine,” he bravely retorts, straightening his shoulders.

  “We both know that,” I agree. “But she chose me.” I back down, sighing. “I don’t want to fight you. And as pissed as I am, I don’t want to take it out on her either.”

  “You won’t. And I would never cross that line, bro. She’s your girl, and I’ll keep her safe.” He clamps a hand on my shoulder. “Go.”

  I nod and exit the kitchen, grabbing my jacket before leaving the house.

  “This place is a shithole,” Hunt exclaims, as we step into the grungy bar on the outskirts of town. Lighting is dim, but it doesn’t disguise the shabby décor. Paint peels off the walls, and the scuffed hardwood floors have seen better days. The mismatched tables and chairs only add to the whole look and feel of the place. Several heads turn in our direction as we walk in, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

  “It’s a typical biker’s hangout. What’d you expect?” I say as we walk toward the bar.

  “It’s a far cry from New York,” Hunt says, maintaining his usual unruffled manner.

  “It’s more real than any of those bars we used to go to,” I say, leaning over the counter to capture the blonde bartender’s attention.

  “Hey there, handsome.” She blatantly eye-fucks me as her eyes roam my body, but she does nothing for me. There is zero action happening in my pants. I wouldn’t mind a fuck because it’s been weeks, but the only woman I want underneath me is the current source of my pain. “What can I get you?”

  “I’m looking for Mike.”

  She eyes me with even more interest as she crooks her finger at me, motioning me closer. I prop my elbows on the counter and lean in. Her breath falters a little, and her eyes glaze over, but I’m not here to fuck some random chick.

  I’m here to pound some random fucker’s face until he’s barely breathing.

  That’s the only way I’ll get my rage under control.

  “Mike!” I snap my fingers in her face.

  “Impatient much?” She smirks, not intimidated, and I must be losing my touch.

  “Always,” I growl. “Now where can I find him?”

  “Head back out the door, take the alleyway, and knock on the brown door at the rear of the building.”

  I stalk off without thanking her, and Hunt follows behind me.

  “You sure you want to do this?” Hunt asks, scanning the room once we’re inside. It’s a much smaller venue than the usual warehouses I fight in, but I’ll take what I can get.

  A ring is the focal point in the space, and two burly guys are beating the shit out of one another, watched by boisterous, drunk dudes. There isn’t much standing room, and the crowd thrusts and sways, shouting obscenities and encouragement.

  The betting is laughable compared to the circuits I’m familiar with, but I don’t care.

  It’s not about the money for me anymore, and even when I was fighting for my brothers, to ensure we had enough cash to look after them, it was always more about the high.

  I know I’m a sick fuck.

  But I’m the product of my upbringing.

  Still, it could be worse.

  After what I’ve heard about Parkhurst, I think I drew the long straw.

  There’s no telling how fucked up I’d be if we’d stayed in Rydeville and they had forced me into that depraved world.

  I glare at Hunt, and he laughs. “Try not to kill him,” he says, as the previous fight ends with one guy hauled unconscious from the ring.

  “I’m making no promises,” I say, ripping my shirt off my back and handing it to him.

  The MC ushers me into the ring a few minutes later, and I assess my opponent with my mask firmly in place. Fighting is as much about mental intimidation as it is brute force or skill with my fists.

  The guy I’m fighting has at least thirty pounds and fifteen years on me. His hard life is etched in every coarse line on his face. His full beard is in direct contrast to his bald head, and ink covers his entire upper body. He’s solid, bulky, and he has some muscle definition, but there’s no way he spends hours in the gym daily like me. Still, he’s a formidable opponent, and judging by his conceited stare, he thinks victory is a sure thing.

  Normal dudes would be afraid.

  But I’ve never claimed to be normal.

  This arrogant asshole is the perfect vessel for me to unleash my aggression.

  The introductions are made, and I ignore the chorus of boos and hisses leveled my direction. They’ll be singing a different tune when the fight is over.

  The bell chimes, and we’re off.

  I dance around the ring, letting him lunge at me, easily evading contact because I’m light on my feet. I gather necessary intel. Watching his tells and learning his moves. Once the crowd boos, vocally demanding bloodshed, I swing my fist, landing a strong uppercut to his left cheek.

  We go at one another, and he’s a worthy competitor. Every thrust of my fist to his face and his torso fuels the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I hardly feel his hits as I release the monster locked up inside me, pouring all my frustration and rage into the fight. Sweat drips down my back and over my brow into my eyes, but it doesn’t stop me. I throw punches, over and over, barely drawing a breath.

  His face fades out, and I’m attacking Michael Hearst, laying into him with every ounce of pain and loathing in my body.

  The dude tires before me, and when I spot the weakness in his eyes, I pounce. I charge at him, pummeling his body and his face repeatedly as he struggles to push me away. His breathing is labored, his will to end this alive more powerful than his arrogant need to win.

  When he falls to the ground, I jump on him, relinquishing m
y anger with every punch.

  My fists pound into him.

  Bone crunches.

  Blood splatters.

  Sweat flies.

  And still I don’t stop. Fueled by naked fear and raw rage, the like I’ve never felt before.

  When I’m eventually dragged off him, and announced as the winner, it feels good. My knuckles ache and my body radiates pain, but I’ve released some of my inner demons.

  “Better?” Hunt asks, handing me my shirt.

  I use it to wipe the blood and sweat off my chest and face as I climb out of the ring.

  “Yeah.” We hustle through the room, with hostile vibes openly directed at us.

  Most bettors bet on their local legend, and they’ve just lost their shirts, so I’m public enemy number one.

  As much as the thought of a group fight excites me, I’d prefer to walk out of here than leave on a stretcher or in a body bag, so I keep my head down and ignore the taunts thrown at me.

  We push out into the alleyway, and the frigid air is like a balm to my hot skin.

  “I want to bury that bastard Hearst,” I say, when we’re back in the car and Hunt is driving us home. I grind my teeth to the molars and flex my damaged knuckles, feeling the truth of those words resonate in every nook and cranny of my being. “I’ll enjoy taking him down.” I crick my head from side to side. “He’ll regret the day he stole from me.”

  “Did you know?” I bark down the phone the minute he answers.

  He sighs. “Yes.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up,” I snap.

  “It wasn’t my place to tell you. You know that.”

  “That’s why that fucker agreed to let her come to me, isn’t it? He wanted her to break me.”

  “I’m not so sure what his motivations are,” he admits, sighing. “We’re barely talking, and I’m not involving him in shit anymore. But it doesn’t matter, because you two needed to heal together.”

  I crank out a bitter laugh. “How the fuck is she expected to heal from that?”

  “Are you saying you won’t take care of her?” His tone turns icy cold.

  “I’ll take care of her. But it’s not like slapping a Band-Aid on a wound!”

  “Just love her, Kaiden. Show her there’s a different way.” I don’t respond, and after a minute of silence, he adds, “Don’t make me regret my decision.”

  “I won’t,” I admit, sighing as I drag a hand through my hair. “She’s still my everything. Even if I want to throttle her for using this against me.”

  He chuckles. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

  I don’t share his humor, and I want this to be done. “We need to change the plan.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve probably just compromised us.”

  His grunt of frustration trickles down the line. “Do you have something in mind?”

  “I do.” And I fill him in.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Abby

  My eyes open, and they’re heavy and sore thanks to last night’s crying-slash-breakdown-session. But I feel a little lighter too. Or maybe lighter is the wrong word. Because my loss, our loss, is a scar on my heart that will never heal. But…there is something freeing about telling the truth and releasing some emotional torment.

  Movement in the room startles me, and I jerk my head sideways.

  Light is trickling into the room through tiny gaps in the blinds, highlighting his silhouette. Although he’s slouched in the chair, Kai is fully alert. My heart pounds in anticipation as I sit up, rubbing my eyes and squinting at him. “Do you hate me?” I blurt, because terror is doing a number on me. I hate how vulnerable I sound, but I’m wide-open after my revelation, and I couldn’t disguise my emotions even if I tried.

  He put my needs first last night. Holding me. Getting in the shower with me to wash off all the mud. Soothing me while he blow-dried my hair. Cradling me in his arms until I fell asleep.

  But I’m not naïve. He comforted me because I was in agony, and he was in pain too.

  But he’s had time to think about it now.

  Time for anger at my deceit to seep into his brain.

  “I don’t hate you, Abby. I’ve told you that. And I understand why you did what you did.”

  I slump against the headrest in relief even if I still don’t know where we stand. “Why are you all bloodied and bruised?” I ask, frowning as I take in the torn skin on his knuckles and discoloration on his chin and cheeks.

  I’m guessing the injuries extend beyond his face, and it’s obvious he’s been fighting.

  He ignores me, standing and moving to the end of the bed. In one lightning-fast move, he throws the covers off and grabs my ankle, tugging me down the bed. Panic alternates with excitement as he hovers over me, his eyes glimmering with dark menace and sultry promise. “What are you doing?” I stammer as he pulls my legs down over the edge of the bed, nudging my knees apart.

  “Punishing you,” he confirms through gritted teeth as his callused palms start a slow, seductive trail up my legs.

  My core throbs as liquid heat rushes to my lower regions. “You’re not leaving me?” My eyes pierce his as I question what’s going on.

  Crawling over my body, he holds himself upright by his palms, and dangerous vibes roll off him in waves. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Lowering his head, he licks the side of my neck, and a whimper flies out of my mouth.

  “But I lied to you.”

  Rolling onto his side, he presses his body flush to mine as he glares at me. Yanking the straps of my nightie down, he pinches my nipple.

  Hard.

  And it fucking hurts.

  But I prefer rough treatment over a tender touch because I hate these new boobs and everything they represent, so, if he must touch them, I’d prefer he treat them like this. “Do it again and I won’t hold back.” His words send shivers tiptoeing up and down my spine, and I arch my back, pressing my boob into his hand. I writhe in need, beseeching him with my eyes. “Promise me.” He tugs on my other nipple so hard my eyes water.

  “I won’t keep stuff from you again.”

  He lowers his head to my chest, sucking one taut nipple into his hot mouth, and a loud moan slips out of my mouth.

  I’d wondered if I’d lose sensitivity in my breasts after the augmentation, and now, I have my answer. Kai has a wicked mouth made to deliver intense pleasure, and I doubt there’s a single part of my body he could touch that wouldn’t be highly sensitive to his caress.

  He roughly kneads my other tit while he continues to bite and suck my nipple, and my panties are soaked with need and longing. “You are mine, Abigail.” He rolls my nipple between his teeth, and I cry out at the pleasure-pain sensation.

  “Are you mine?” I pant.

  He stops what he’s doing, lifting his head and glowering at me. “You don’t deserve the answer.”

  “Then you don’t deserve to fuck me,” I snap, shoving at his shoulders.

  “You think you have a choice?” He arches a brow as he sits back on his heels, yanking the hem of my nightie up. He tears my panties off and plunges two fingers inside me. “Your body has already decided.”

  I snarl at him, hating that he’s right.

  Removing his fingers from my pussy, he pushes my legs up to my chest, stretching them out to the side as wide as they will go. Then he slides down the bed, lying flat on his stomach and parting my folds. “You need to be punished for your sins. Starting now.”

  My pussy floods with warmth at his words, and I prop up on my elbows watching him smirk as he licks a line up and down my slit. A guttural moan filters through the air as I give in to my carnal desires. There is no point arguing because I want this as much as he does. He can call it punishment if he likes. We both know what this is.

  “Are you sore?” he asks, softening his voice a little.

  “No.” I gasp as his tongue plunges into my channel and he devours me while rubbing at my clit with two of his fingers. My hips buck up,
and I’m thrusting my pussy into his face, urging him to go faster as my climax builds.

  Abruptly, he stops, ripping his delectable mouth and tongue from me seconds before my orgasm peaks, and I fist the covers in frustration. “You only come when I let you.” His eyes challenge me to disagree, and I bite down hard on my lip to stop my protests from escaping my mouth.

  He stands, tugging at his clothes, and I shamelessly ogle his ripped body as he undresses. “Does it hurt?” I ask, sitting up and lightly tracing my fingers along the bruising on his ribs.

  “I like the pain.” He shoves me down onto the bed, dragging me a little closer to the edge, before he strokes his hard cock with one hand and plays with my clit with his other one. “Grab a condom from that drawer,” he commands, jerking his head at the bedside table.

  “I thought you liked fucking me bare?”

  “I do, but I’m guessing you’re not taking birth control, and after everything we’ve been through, I think it’s safer to use them.”

  His thoughtfulness almost undoes me, so I make no remark as I remove one and hand it to him, watching as he expertly rolls it on and lines himself up at my entrance. “This won’t be gentle.”

  I consent with a nod, and he slams into me in one fast thrust causing me to scream out. Placing my legs up over his shoulders, he rams into me hard, and my breasts jiggle and shake with the movement. With one hand, he grips my hip, and his other hand tweaks my breast, pinching and digging his nails into my soft flesh.

  Kai is fond of angry sex, but this is on a whole other level.

  A thrill rushes through my veins. If this is what punished feels like, then I’ll gladly let him punish me daily.

  He rams his cock so far inside me I swear it hits off my cervix, and then he pulls out slowly, only to thrust back inside in an aggressive move, pivoting his hips as he pounds into me, over and over. His hand continues to knead my breasts, alternating between them, as he pulls and tugs painfully on my nipples.

  My body is jostled with his movements, and every nerve ending is on fire.