I remove my hands, placing them back on the wall while keeping my body pressed to hers. She’s not wearing a bra, so her pebbled nipples are felt on my naked skin through her sleep shirt, and I clench my thighs as a way not to focus on the feeling.
“Wanna know what I’d do next?”
Her answer is a whispered moan.
“I’d flip you over, fill you from behind.”
She nods, breathless.
“And once I’m inside...” I drop my palms to the curve of her ass and she squirms. “Smashed between this tight ass, and your slick spine is arched and begging, I’d run my hand up your back until I reached your hair, so I could wrap it around my fist and pull. And, Victoria, baby...” I breathe, and she shivers, leaving marks on my biceps as her nails dig in. “I’d stare right at the back of your head... imagining I was fucking an entirely. Different. Blonde.”
She turns hard as fucking stone.
She doesn’t breathe, doesn’t dare move, and neither do I.
I keep her there, trapped, a long moment before I slowly push away, letting my hands fall as I take a backward step, eyes icy and on hers.
“In case you weren’t aware, my daughter’s blonde didn’t only come from me,” I speak with no emotion.
She stares, still stuck with her back to the wall, palms planted flat against it.
“Her mom’s name was Mallory, and her hair was just as long as yours.” I tilt my head, regarding her with a coolness I hope gives her frostbite. “Just as blonde. Maybe a bit shinier,” I callously add.
She’s good though, has the whole ‘hide what’s real’ thing down well, and recovers quickly, a mask sliding over her dark eyes.
“If that’s what you need to do, do it.” She steps forward, shoulders held high as she places herself directly in front of me. “You wanna play pretend, need me to be her for a night or two, I’m game. Use me.”
A dark chuckle escapes me, and her fingers anxiously tap at her upper thigh, but stop when she realizes I’ve noticed.
“Use you, huh?” I take my time bringing my eyes back to hers. “That what you want?”
“I’m used to it.”
“Not from me, you’re not.”
She fights not to let her frown free, the muscles in her cheeks twitching as she prepares to snap at me. “I said I don’t mind.”
I move toward her, and she doesn’t budge when I reach out to tuck her hair behind her ear, my gaze locked on hers. I leave it there for several seconds until, yet again, her guard slips the slightest bit.
This girl has little to no control of herself where I’m concerned.
Won’t take much to erase it completely.
I lean in, stopping once I can speak against her lips.
“Victoria Vega...” I breathe and her chest rises with a deep inhale. “Such a pretty. Little. Liar.”
Chapter 2
Victoria
Little liar.
Captain’s words have been on repeat since they were whispered into the dark.
Am I a liar?
The simple answer is yes, but who runs around sharing secrets so easily?
I might have grown up in a different world with different rules than they did, understood trust in an entirely singular way, but I know better than to share my soul with others. I saw firsthand what happened when you did, and it was never good.
Even the strongest are rendered weak against their greatest enemy, and the smart know exactly where this lethal threat lies—deep within your own mind.
Nothing is more dangerous to a single person than what’s hidden inside them.
They steal your humanity, rob you of your riches, hold you back from living your life, yet still, secrets are what make worlds like these, Brayshaw and the other families out there just like theirs, go round.
Every so often those hidden truths leak, and down goes the weakest link.
Not that there is one of those living inside these walls.
These boys, these brothers, they’re equally strong, but oh so different in so many ways.
Maddoc, the oldest, is the most intimidating, both visually and mentally. The green glass of his eyes and dark hair make for a menacing allure. Neither would matter, he’s even more dangerous than he looks. A simple stare from him gets in your head, forcing you to question everything you’re thinking.
Royce is the tatted, teasing party boy who never calms enough to pause, moves without thought yet still somehow every move holds purpose. He’s a hardened heart and harder fists, smiling through each hit. The dark in his eyes never brightens, though he grins as much as he glares.
And then there’s Captain.
As if built from the deepest desires of my own mind, ones I didn’t know existed until I laid my brown eyes on his Caribbean ones, a perfect mix of green and blue and ever-shifting. Tall and broad, wide shoulders and sculpted arms, his strength needs no added flare. Combine those things with his sandy blond hair, and he’s a perfect Ken Doll.
If his body wasn’t enough, his person radiates a deeper pull, one I tried to run from the moment it was felt but couldn’t escape.
He’s inquisitive, like me. Sees with his mind, processes with reason, and commands without further force. But as much as he’s all these things, he’s just as threatening and untouchable as his brothers. His ability to think before acting makes him the most dangerous, at least for me.
Maybell has been with them since the beginning, helped guide them along the way, watched as they grew into who they are now, strong and unpredictable.
Brayshaw.
They may have a few months left as high school boys, but they’ve never been summed up so simply.
They’re much, much more.
Boys of power they both inherited and earned, showered with respect for the good they do for their people, and feared for the bad they eliminate.
They’ve brightened nightmares.
And they’ve just taken official reign on this town. Their town.
My lungs expand with a deep breath as I drop my head against the plush patio pillows behind me.
I couldn’t sleep for shit, have been staring out at these monstrous trees surrounding the property for hours now, thinking, but it’s been a complete waste of my time. I haven’t come up with a single way to keep things smooth and simple that won’t bring a whole new set of issues with it.
If it was the four of them, and no one else, it wouldn’t be a problem. They’d push and I’d take it in stride while working toward fixing what I—sort of accidentally—broke.
It’s intimidating, sure, knowing it’s not one person I have to prove myself to, but four, but I knew this from the get-go. There is no other option, no one or the other.
The Brayshaws are a package deal, and I’m the current stray.
Those simple facts I could handle with ease, but Zoey being home changes everything.
There is no way I would even consider forcing myself on them when she’s around. Not only would it be fucked up, but they’d never allow it, and they shouldn’t. I understand that fully, so I’ll need to find another way, or use the time we’ll have once we go back to school to show them I belong, that this isn’t some power kick of a random girl wanting into the family that leads this town.
It’s fated, I can feel it in my bones.
I’m not sure if they realize it or not, but the next few months are going to be tough in some ways.
I have no doubt Zoey found instant comfort here with her family, in the home she was always meant to be in, but there will still be some sort of adjustment or learning period for all of them. Especially since they function as a unit. Not only is Captain going to be faced with new trials as a dad, but the others will as well. They’ll grow in ways most eighteen-year-olds don’t, and quickly. Not that they’ve ever really been teenagers.
It’s part of the Brayshaw way, to grow into manhood young, marry right out of high school, and produce an heir just as quick.
Maybe because of this they have an upper ha
nd here as running this town has prepared them to be strong men all their lives, but it’s hard to say for sure.
All I do know is while Zoey’s shy of three-years-old and definitely won’t comprehend every little thing, she’s smart as a whip and picks up on things fast. It won’t take long for her to realize her new home is mine as well, and she’ll seek out my attention.
What am I supposed to do when she does, walk away?
Yeah, right.
I’m the person she saw the most, outside of Maria.
Maria.
I haven’t spoken to her since before Zoey came home. Not that she and I talked about anything other than Zoey, but she did care for the youngest Brayshaw for years, and now it’s only her and acres of land.
I pull out the cell phone Raven had sent to me when she was gone and scroll to Maria’s name, hitting send, but after a few short rings, the line goes to voicemail.
I don’t leave one.
She may have given birth to me, but I never had a mother, or love and affection, for that matter, as I now know a child should.
Back then, though, I knew no different.
You don’t miss what you never had, and I had nothing.
At least, not until my tenth birthday when a man showed up at the door with news, or at least it was news to me.
I had a sister—Raven.
The man who came to share the information was Mero Malcari, the biological brother to Rolland, the boys’ dad, who was believed to have died the night the Brayshaw family was attacked eighteen years ago, the night Rolland chose to save his friends over his own blood.
Mero was a sick man, and the day he dared to roll up to the Graven estate, the home of his family’s enemy, he strode in with a smirk, head held high and all, prepared to barter.
I’ll never forget it.
The bushes shake and I pause, tilting my head all the way back to look up at the tip of the wall.
The deep green leaves cover the heavy stone, the strands braided over the top to hide the thick, spiked metal wire beneath it, but they don’t rustle.
There’s no wind today.
A smile breaks free and I jump to my feet, promising the new lilies I’ll be back to give them their home, just beside the female that had offered it life.
I wipe my hands along the cool blades of grass near my thighs, peeking through the small sliding door to make sure the lock’s shadow is still seen beneath it, indicating it’s bolted in place, as normal. I’m locked inside.
I scoot over to the wall, tug on the brush twice, and wait.
It takes a moment, but then it’s tugged back.
A low laugh leaves me as I lean forward, reaching inside the thorny bushes, meeting a soft pair of fingers once I’ve stretched as far as I can go. I drop my head down, peek through the tiny opening, and there are his eyes, peering into a small hole he created, the rest of his face hidden behind bricks that separate me from everyone else.
“You’re back!” I grin even though he can’t see it. “And just in time. It’s almost midday, the bird will be flying by soon.”
Or maybe he can, because even though all that is visible are his eyes, I spot the fear and sadness clouding his.
“What’s the matter?”
“I can’t watch the vulture fly with you today.”
My excitement falls, bringing my shoulders down with it. “How come?”
He doesn’t answer right away, and then, “There’s a man. He’s come for you.”
“A man… what man?”
His gaze leaves mine a moment, but then it comes back, and the sadness is gone. “You’ll see. He’s on his way, and your father is with him.”
My eyes widen. “Now?”
“Now.” Strain pulls at his eyes and he sighs. “Be brave, do what he says, and you’ll be okay.”
“You’re scaring me.”
He hangs his head, whispering, “It’ll be okay, Garden Girl. I don’t know if he’s a good man, but if you listen, I know he’ll try to be.”
“What do you mean, why would I have to listen? Nobody’s allowed to talk to me.”
“They’re coming!” he hisses. “I can’t wait to see you.”
“See me how?”
“I’ll be with you soon,” he rushes out.
Something blooms in my chest, my hand sinking farther into the ivy. “Promise?” I whisper.
“I promise you. It’ll be you and me forever one day, no matter what.”
Voices sound in the distance.
“Go!” he hisses again.
I quickly glance behind me, and when I look back, the only friend I’ve ever had, but never even seen… is gone.
I quickly stand and rush back to the flowerbed, but the door is thrown open the moment I reach it, so I jump back to my feet, lowering my head as my father’s shiny shoes come into view, another pair planting just beside them.
“Eyes.”
I look up, forcing my gaze not to travel to the man at my father’s right, but then my father steps aside, and suddenly the man is before me.
He’s handsome, tall and trim, and wears a smile, one that meets the corners of his pretty green eyes.
“Hello,” he says so softly that the muscles in my body relax.
I swallow. “Hello.”
His gaze falls to the dirt on my fingers, and I quickly hide them behind my back.
He glances beyond me at my garden. “You enjoy flowers?”
I push my hair over my shoulders as I nod, and his strong stare follows the movement.
“Then I will give you all the flowers in the world.” His smile spreads and he turns to my father. “You have yourself a deal, Graven.” He hands him an envelope. “You’ll find your other daughters’ locations inside.”
My eyes widen and I take a half a step forward. “I have a sister?” Hope, if I had to guess, is what expands in my chest, making it hard to breathe.
But the hard, empty glare of my father swings my way, and it’s gone as quick as it comes.
I freeze, shuffle back, and lower my head.
He scoffs, turning to the man. “Walk out with her, and you don’t get to bring her back. She’ll be your burden from here on out, Brayshaw.”
Brayshaw?
Is that his name?
“No,” the man responds gently as he steps toward me, his fingers sliding beneath my chin, bringing my eyes to his. He smiles. “She’ll be my savior, and one day, my bride. Speak to or of her like this again, Graven, and I’ll be forced to make sure you regret it.”
My heart beats crazy as I try and make sense of their words, but all that clicks is ‘bride.’
He bends so we’re eye level and grips my hands in his. “Never lower your eyes when a man’s meet yours, never look away.” His gaze roams mine. “Never cower, sweet girl. Your eyes, a deep, daunting… perfect brown, are your power, and I’m going to teach you how to use them.”
Not five minutes later, I was in a car for the first time, with nothing but the clothes on my back and shoes on my feet.
Mero had given up Raven and her mother’s location, something Donley Graven had been searching for since the day her mother disappeared, and in exchange, my father gave him me.
Just like that, I went from the worthless, ignored, ghostly girl in the gated garden to a golden puppet, the highest valued, most precious tool in a stranger of a man’s world.
I developed early and never looked my age, always older. I never had a chance to play with other children when I was young, though I knew more existed, the sounds of their laughter echoed on the other side of the wall, and then there was the boy who dared to look beyond it. Because of this, I was too mature for my own good, nothing but guards and a tutor to learn from, and once I turned eight, I was given a television.
Mero must have seen it in my eyes at ten, a child who never lived as one, a girl desperate for more.
He was proud of his new ‘property,’ and quickly, I became his pawn, did as he asked, found ways to trick who he instructed until
secrets spilled from the mouths of some of the most powerful men he could find. Men who held high positions, men who were forced to leave Brayshaw, traitors to the family and pure outsiders. Jobs for purpose and some simply for payment.
We had ruses, ways of gaining the truth and I always wanted to give him what he asked for, so I was extremely inventive. I studied people, trained myself to see more than the average eye, hear what wasn’t said. It became a game, something to focus on, a way to earn affection I came to crave.
Secrets were my purpose.
I was blackmail.
It wasn’t until I turned my back on the man who freed me from the prison I wasn’t aware I was living in that my life changed.
I know I’m strong, I know I can handle this place, but I want more than that.
I can’t go back to being the little girl I once was, completely dispensable.
Knowledge, it gave me purpose, power.
It’s ironic, how the only thing to ever offer a shred of color is the exact reason my world’s been painted gray.
Holding onto secrets in a place like this has done the opposite of what I’ve understood them to.
I hold no leverage, only lies.
I feel no pride, I’m buried in shame.
I hate myself more than I hate the man who molded me this way.
How weak you are to become what someone else asks of you?
I can be different here. An asset instead of a threat.
I want that, to be useful.
Worth something.
I sigh, licking my lips as I pull a full breath through my nostrils.
The shuffle of feet catches my attention, and I roll my neck against the chair cushion to find Rolland, the man who helped me hide in plain sight, walking up.
I never told him who I really was, daughter of the man he hated, only how I grew inside the walls of the Graven estate until I was traded.
I never told him to who.
Rolland slides his hands in his pockets, looking across the orchards in front of us. “You don’t have to stay out here.”
“Yes, I do.”
“This is your home, too.”
I nod. “It will be.”
A small smile finds his lips, and he slowly lowers into the seat beside me. “I’m glad you feel that way.”
BE MY BRAYSHAW Page 3
