Destructive King

by Rachel Van Dyken

  I nearly slipped as I sprinted around the pool.

  Four.

  Three.

  Two.

  I knew he was coming.

  Could feel him at my back.

  Was too afraid to look over my shoulder.

  And then I was tackled into the soft grass near the hammock.

  “Down we go…” He didn’t give me any time to process what he was doing as he slid my dress up past my hips then hooked my legs around his neck.

  Anyone could see us.

  Anyone!

  His smile was possessed as a rough hand slid up my thigh, jerking my legs apart harder, exposing me to him before deft fingers ripped my underwear.

  Rain poured.

  His chest heaved as water dripped from his jaw down onto my body.

  I lifted my chin in defiance.

  And then he lowered his head in reverence.

  Followed by worship.

  His tongue was hot against my skin, almost too hot as he spread me wide.

  And partook.

  My body shook as memories of that night flooded my vision like the very raindrops cascading down both of our bodies, cleansing us from the inside out.

  Maybe the rain was washing away my one unholy act of taking what wasn’t mine to take, for giving a gift that wasn’t mine to give.

  I had sinned.

  My loneliness was my punishment.

  And his tongue was my jailer.

  He gripped my ass so hard with his fingertips I cried out. He answered with a growl against my sensitive skin. He flicked his tongue over me, and then he fucked me with that tongue.

  It was primitive.

  Angry.

  It was all Ash.

  In every way that mattered.

  There was nothing beautiful about this moment—and everything brutal and exposed.

  He pulled back just enough to lock eyes with me as he continued his assault, setting my nerves on fire. His eyes heated as I let out a moan, needing more, needing so very much more. His hands firm, he held me captive as the rain drenched us both, and his mouth locked onto me.

  His beautiful mouth punished.

  And I reacted to each tug of his lips, each suck, each swirl of his tongue, over and over again; he took me to the stars only to stop just as I was falling back again.

  “Ash.” My body wept along with the weather. “Please!”

  “You don’t get to tell me.” He pulled away, mouth wet, eyes crazed. “You don’t get a say in how you want me or how you get me.”

  “You’re so arrogant!”

  “Yes,” he snapped. “I’ll take you hard. I’ll take you gentle. But I’ll decide how you need it, how you want it, and when…” A hand pinched my ass while another slid up and roughly cupped my breasts, massaging them as he lowered his head again. “I decide how I worship you.”

  I cried out as he slid his hand from my ass to between my legs, massaging with his palm. “Right there.”

  He pulled back and winked.

  “You, you jack—”

  He dipped his head.

  He used his tongue like a weapon.

  His hands like an instrument.

  And when I came apart all over his face, his fingers, his tongue, he lifted his head toward the sky as if he wanted the universe to see evidence of what he’d done, as if he’d just made a sacrifice, there on the dirty ground with my legs wrapped around him.

  A throat cleared. “I hate to break up whatever weird pagan ritual you guys got going on out here, but… DoorDash is literally pulling up right now.” I about died when I looked over at Maksim, who had a hand covering his eyes, and King, who was staring down at his phone with a smirk across his face.

  I fell back against the grass and sighed as Ash slowly lowered my legs and, in a move I didn’t see coming, crawled up my body and shielded me from not only the rain but their stares.

  From the poor delivery guy.

  From everything.

  Then again.

  That was Ash.

  Protector.

  Monster.

  Bully.

  Mine.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “I’m not afraid to die, I just don’t want to be here when it happens.”—Woody Allen

  Ash

  Hours after tasting her—and I couldn’t even eat dinner—because nothing would feel as good pressed against my tongue, occupying my mouth.

  Had I lost my fucking mind there for a minute?

  Yes.

  Had I felt slightly guilty at the fear in her eyes?

  Maybe.

  But I knew her.

  I knew Annie.

  I was trying to ease her into it, trying to seduce her the way she deserved, with pretty kisses from a gentleman, not cruel bites from a villain.

  And yet, that was what her body craved.

  What I wanted.

  There would be time for gentle.

  One day I’d take hours.

  But today was not that day.

  And there was something so fucking familiar about the way her moans reached my ears, how her thighs clenched around my face like I’d visited her temple many times before.

  What the hell?

  I was still stumped.

  Horny as hell.

  And trying to fit the pieces together.

  “Until the stars fall.” I shook the phrase from my head.

  Claire had said that, no, wait… she always said until the sky falls.

  I froze.

  Had I been that drunk?

  “So.” Maksim plopped down on the couch next to me. After dinner, we’d all gone to the theater room to Netflix.

  I wanted to chill.

  But Annie had been avoiding me since our foray into public fornication. Not that I blamed her.

  The poor DoorDash driver asked if we needed an ambulance, only to have Maksim say. “Do they treat blue balls now?”

  “So.” I crossed my arms.

  “That trick.” He sniffed and looked away, then back at me. “You know where you had like one hand here.” The fucker touched me on the chest. “And then the other… you know…” He nodded. “Lower—”

  “Touch my dick, and I’m cutting yours off.”

  “Bro! At least be comfortable enough in your sexuality to know that if I wanted dick, I’d tell you.”

  “That oddly doesn’t make me feel better, Maks.”

  He snorted out a laugh. “Bet you’re not feeling better at all. How are the balls? Sad? Tight? Blue?”

  “Did you have a reason for being here?”

  “So that move—”

  “Yeah, I’m going to have to stop you right there. And you want to know why?”

  He frowned. “Because it’s a trade secret? Trademark move?”

  “No.” My jaw clenched. “Because I refuse to teach you something or even discuss something that you may or may not attempt on my fucking sister!”

  He visibly paled and held up his hands in surrender. “It’s not like that.”

  Izzy chose that moment to walk by and go. “Oh, it’s exactly like that.”

  “She’s lying!” he roared. “We haven’t even—”

  “Kill him, Ash.” She batted her eyelashes. “Do it for your fave sis.”

  I reached for him.

  He stumbled back and shot her a glare. “Grow a heart, Jezebel!”

  “Grow a bigger penis, small fry!”

  Junior grabbed Maksim by the collar and shoved him in the opposite direction. “I swear the hormones just make it harder to deal with them.”

  Izzy opened her mouth to most likely yell, but Serena clapped a hand over it and whispered. “Just walk away, yes in that direction, oh look, wine!”

  “Shit, they’re worse than you guys used to be,” I grumbled. “And that’s saying something, and who the hell asks for oral sex tips when screwing my sister?”

  Junior barked out a laugh. “It’s not like they’re together anymore.”

  “Thus the animosity.” I shook
my head. “He’s just pissed I made Dad cut down the tree by her window.”

  Junior held out his fist. “I approve of this cock block.”

  I hit his fist with mine. “Thank you, I do try.”

  He glanced over his shoulder and leaned in. “So a little bird—”

  “Cut the shit, we both know King’s the bird who told Valerian who probably told you…”

  As if hearing his name Valerian sped over to us, sat down, and leaned in. “You went down on her in the rain?”

  Junior smirked. “Nice.”

  “No, not nice! She could have caught a cold… holy shit, just tell me to stop talking. Am I turning into an old man now? Is that what being boss has done to me?” Valerian grumbled.

  “Saw a gray hair, didn’t wanna freak you out.” Junior shrugged.

  “Son of a bitch.” He shot to his feet and stomped out of the room, most likely in search of a mirror where he’d find out he had nothing but perfect hair, then come back and try to pick a fight with Junior, which, let’s be honest, ever since he’d become a boss could be a tough fight for Junior to win.

  Not that I’d ever tell Junior that.

  “He’s gonna punch you when he comes back.” I leaned back into the leather couch and put my hands behind my head.

  Junior grinned. “I sure hope so; we don’t want the Petrov boss getting soft.” He was quiet a minute and then, “So you and Annie…”

  “Saw that coming…”

  “Yeah, well…” His eyes searched mine. “Can I ask a question and not get punched in the dick for it?”

  I shifted uncomfortably. “Depends on the question.”

  “Are you just… oh shit, I’m gonna get hit, I just know it—but are you fucking with her?”

  “The hell?” I shoved his chest. “No!”

  He exhaled. “Good, because I heard it was you behind all those horrible tweets, not that I blame you for wanting whatever retribution or revenge you could get. I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t being a sadistic asshole.”

  My stomach churned. “You’re right, I was responsible for the tweets, but—”

  A gasp sounded behind me.

  Junior’s eyes widened. “Annie…”

  “Fuck.” I jumped to my feet only to have her slam her hands against me, sending me sailing backward.

  “YOU!” she yelled. She never yelled. Her face was red, tears were already streaming down her cheeks. She was never supposed to know. “You did that? To me?”

  “Yes,” I said quietly. “But you don’t understand—”

  “Fuck you!” Serena moved to stand behind Annie. “How could you be such a prick!”

  Junior slowly moved away from me.

  And when I looked up, it was to see my entire family backing Annie.

  Not me.

  “I had my reasons,” I finally said.

  “Nothing,” Annie yelled. “And I do mean NOTHING excuses that level of bullying. God, I can’t believe we just—” She covered her mouth with her hand and choked out a sob. “You’ve been lying this whole time, haven’t you? Playing me? Playing my emotions. I trusted, I thought, after that… after…” She stumbled forward.

  I caught her before she collapsed against the floor.

  Everything that could go wrong went wrong.

  The night before I needed her to hate me.

  Well, at least my dad got that part right.

  She would go into the next evening wanting me dead.

  I just hoped this conversation wasn’t a bad omen.

  I picked her up in my arms, ignoring the protests from everyone around me. As much as I wanted to take her back to the pool house, I knew that my chance was gone.

  Tonight I could have been the nice guy and still failed at that given the chance.

  And now I was the monster again.

  The monster she needed me to be tomorrow.

  Maybe that was my curse.

  My cross to bear.

  That in life, I’d never be the hero.

  Always the villain, no matter what choice I made or who I tried to protect—hell, the one time I’d tried to protect someone, to truly take care of them—she’d been killed.

  I carried her to her room.

  Blanketed in darkness.

  Counting my sins.

  And when her eyes flickered open, I sat her on her bed and looked away; I couldn’t stomach looking at her in the eyes, seeing the betrayal there, as if I’d singlehandedly plotted her downfall up until this point.

  “Go,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, cracking at the end like she was just barely holding it in. “I quit.”

  “Don’t.” I reached for her hand then stopped halfway across the duvet. My hands felt frozen, paralyzed, in need of hers, in want of her warmth, and all I had was the cool touch of the bed. “Don’t quit.”

  “As you know, my dad was a bad man. He murdered my mom, took his own life, and basically gave me away. And then I got taken in,” she said so wistfully I wanted to hug her. “I thought maybe things were taking a turn for the better, I mean getting fostered out? Adopted even at my age? Miracle.” She let out a long sigh. “She told me about the great Abandonato Family, about how they protect their own, how even in the midst of darkness, your dad, the great Chase Abandonato, did the right thing—he set the broken free. And I knew, I just knew if I saw your family, touched someone, said something, that my dreams would come true. The ones my mom placed there. Not dreams of being rich or famous, no, I just wanted, I just wanted to feel safe.” Her voice quivered. “It’s amazing how far you’re willing to crawl through the mud just to hear that word, feel that protection…” Her voice cracked again. “And then I met you, and you were this larger than life… thing. Strong. Intense. Beautiful. Mean.”

  “Annie.”

  “No, let me finish.” She moved on the bed, by my calculations, probably away from me. Away from my warmth. My protection. My arms. “I saw you, really saw you. And I knew that no matter what, you’d protect, you’d kill for blood, so even when you were mean, even when you made me cry when all I wanted was to be loved. I told myself it was okay because I was safe.”

  I hated myself.

  I hated everything about me in that moment.

  The man I was.

  The man I’d become.

  All for what?

  “But now…” She let out a shaky breath. “Now I know… I’ll never be safe, protected, always alone, and that’s okay because it’s worse when you hope. Worse when I see you every day and imagine a world where I have someone fighting with me, side by side, someone who, regardless of how violent—would protect me like my mom said. Maybe that’s the danger with your stupid white horses… men come riding in on them pretending to be your savior, and it’s too late… too late to realize that they were the villain the entire time.”

  My body seized, afraid to breathe. “I was angry.”

  “I know.”

  “I wanted to hurt you.”

  “I know.”

  “That’s not me, not anymore.”

  “People don’t change overnight, Ash. That’s still you—just muted by whatever you think we have.”

  “Annie.” Panic edged its way into my voice. “Don’t do this.”

  “I can forgive a lot of things, Ash. Betrayal is one thing… but you went a step further, didn’t you? You stole my hope.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. “Annie Sinacore—sent to me. To us.”

  “Annie Sinacore,” she repeated. “Deceased. Tired. Done.”

  I stood then slowly turned to face her, letting my rage show on my face. “I blamed you. I hated you. And managed to love you at the same time. Two warring emotions in my soul. Two hearts. Guilt and shame. Right and wrong. So even if you quit me, I’m not quitting you. Maybe you’ve lost your hope, but that doesn’t mean I’ve lost mine. I will fight for you, Annie Sinacore. I will win you. This villain. This monster. This destructive King.”

  “We’ll see.” Her whisper was cunning, angry.
<
br />   “Yes,” I vowed. “We will.” I walked over to the door and flicked off the lights. “Sleep well tonight, because tomorrow we war.”

  “What the hell do you think I’ve been doing, Ash Abandonato? Sitting out of the fight? Open your eyes—we’ve been in a war since the day I moved here, since the day I —”

  She didn’t finish.

  Thunder roared overhead.

  Rain poured.

  And a memory surfaced.

  Of Annie yelling at me by the pool.

  Of hot lips.

  Cold nights.

  “Say goodbye, Ash, you have to say it.” She clung to my skin, smelling like sunshine. “You must!”

  “I can’t!”

  “You must!”

  I thrust into her and screamed her name. “Claire, Claire, Claire.”

  With every thrust, her body relaxed into me, clung to me like a second skin.

  And with one final moment of clarity. “Until the stars fall.”

  “Until the stars fall,” I found myself saying under my breath.

  Not to Claire.

  But to Annie.

  My Annie.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Death is the graduation of the soul.” — Sylvia Browne

  Chase

  “Are we going to talk about it?” Phoenix pulled out a chair next to me as I sipped my whiskey—neat.

  “Nope.” I took another sip. “Talking just makes it true, and you already have your answers, don’t you?”

  A pregnant pause lingered between us. “You should have given him a choice, Chase.”

  “I did. I gave him a choice every time he chose to believe the lies. Every time he drank the fake truth like a medicine when it was a fucking poison. As a father, you can’t shove your kids in the right direction; you can only be there to help them decide what path to take.”

  Phoenix dropped the black folder onto the kitchen table. “If tomorrow goes south—”

  “If it goes poorly, we have precautions in place. I’ve made sure of it.”

  “Made sure of it how?”

  My chest ached where my heart should be. “I made sure that this time—his choice was black and white. I made sure of it because my son deserves it—and with that, we’ll draw them out. Believe me.”

  “I’m afraid to.” Phoenix grabbed the bottle of whiskey in front of me and poured himself a glass. “I’m afraid politics have corrupted your mind.”