“Let’s go, little mouse,” he whispers, leading me toward the house, but we don’t go to where the party is still in full swing. We take a path around the house, and we enter through a kitchen door.
“Why . . . What . . . I don’t—”
“You’re safe.” His words should have a calming effect on me, but they have the complete opposite. I dig my heels in, causing him to halt his steps. Creed sighs, realizing we’re not going to move until he speaks.
“You have to tell me what the fuck that was.” I point to the back door, to where we’ve just come from. Everything feels surreal. My head is spinning with how Devon and Creed knew each other. And how Creed just killed someone in front of me. He just stabbed Devon, in the jugular, and didn’t bat a fucking eyelid.
“I didn’t think you were a stranger to violence,” he tells me, as if he knows me. “Surely you’ve seen much worse.” This time, Creed’s dark eyes regard me with curiosity.
My mouth falls open, but I shut it seconds later. I can’t find the words to offer him in response. He does know who I am.
“You just stabbed someone.”
“And he deserved it,” Creed informs me with a shrug.
My throat burns when I retort, “That doesn’t make it okay!”
His hands grip my shoulders, holding me still, but my hands are shaking. “If you continue screaming, I will gag you and lock you in my bedroom until you calm the fuck down.” There’s no discussion. He’s not joking, and after what I’ve seen him do, I believe he really would lock me up.
“This is not okay.”
Creed nods. “I know. But your father wanted you safe while you finished your studies in Thorne Haven. I agreed to do him a favor.”
“My father?”
“Micaela.” My name in the familiar Irish accent comes from the doorway. My father, a tall, redheaded Irishman, who is feared by many and worshipped by his followers, stands on the threshold of the kitchen. The garden behind him, black as night, with him looking like a warrior.
10
Micaela
“I’ll leave you both to talk,” Creed says, but my father shakes his head.
He meets the eyes of the man who just killed Devon. “No. You stay here.” The order is clear, and Creed offers him a nod. Then my father’s green eyes, that match mine, are on me. “Sit.” He points at the table. I can’t argue because my father is not a man who enjoys negotiations.
I slip onto the bench seat that overlooks the backyard. From here, I can see everyone drinking, dancing, chatting with friends. And yet, I’m here caked in blood, while my father doesn’t even flinch when I pierce him with an angry glare.
He moves toward the table, settling in a chair that faces me. “Creed has done our family a service.”
“I don’t understand,” I tell my dad, my voice wavering between sadness and exhaustion.
“I’ve known the Havens for a long time. Octavius is one of my oldest friends, but he’s nothing like me. He has always run his business aboveboard. I knew sending you to Thorne Haven would be safe. That you’d be watched over by him, but I didn’t realize his son would take such an interest in you,” my father explains, causing my eyes to flit to the man who saved me tonight.
His angular jawbone with those sharp features make him seem like a prince rather than a rogue. His dark eyes and hair, a stark contrast to his smooth, fair skin. Full lips tilt into a smile and his strong, broad shoulders square, as if he’s proud of the act he’s done for my father.
He is handsome.
His grin, stupidly, makes my stomach do somersaults, and I can’t deny I’m affected by him. But he is a killer. So was Devon. My mind reminds me of what I’ve been through, reminds me of the man I used to love.
“Micaela,” my dad says, drawing my attention back to him. “I have to get back to the city, but I needed to come and see you were safe. I had to know if you’d be looked after if I left you with Creed Haven.”
“What? You’re pawning me off as payment for a job well done?” The indignation in my voice is clear, but my father doesn’t even flinch. I knew he wouldn’t. He’s a man of means, and he doesn’t need to give me to anyone, but Creed’s family is rich. No amount of money would be payment enough for him. So instead of cash, my father has clearly agreed to Creed having me.
“You’re going to live in Thorne Haven until the end of your studies. Creed has asked for a chance to get to know you. I’ve agreed, only because I believe he is a good man.”
“You mean a man who will do your bidding.” My insolence can and most probably will be punished. My father hates when I retort back, but I’m not some piece of property that can be bartered.
“The Havens and the McCrays will be working together on future business opportunities. I’ve spoken with Octavius, and we both agree you and Creed will make a formidable couple. A power couple.”
“You’re marrying me off to him?” Pushing to my feet, I shove the bench back with a loud, resounding screech along the smooth tiles. “No. No!” My father doesn’t move. He just watches me, like Creed does. It’s as if they’re one and the same, and it has me moving for the door, but Creed is quick on his feet, his arms wrapping around me.
“Either you stay in Thorne Haven and do as I ask.” My father’s voice is cold as ice. I’ve grown up with him, I know it’s what he’s like, but this is too much. An arranged fucking marriage? No. I won’t do it. “Or you come home, and I speak with our Italian compatriot. Either way, you will need to do your duty in this family.”
“This is ridiculous,” I bite out. Creed’s arms are still around me. They’re warm, and for a moment, I feel safe, even though anger at my father is at the forefront of my mind.
“Give me time, little mouse,” Creed coos in my ear. It’s a whisper only I can hear. My father watches us, satisfaction brimming in his eyes.
“I think you’ll see my way of things.” My father doesn’t like when I don’t obey. “Your mother and I were in much the same position you and Creed find yourselves in now. She learned to love me.”
“And then she was murdered.” Even though my retort is meant to hurt him, I know it hurts me more. “I didn’t—”
“Yes, she was,” my father says. “Because she didn’t want to listen to me. She didn’t obey my orders when I told her to stay put. Like you, she had a fire inside her, and, at times, she didn’t realize when it needed to be tamped down.”
I blink. Once. Twice. The tears that trickle down my cheeks don’t even faze my father. He has been so cold for so long I doubt anything will ever change that. Even when his daughter, his princess, is sad.
“I want this for you so that I know you’re safe. It’s the only way.”
“What about what I want?”
He shakes his head sadly, and I already know what he’s about to say. I don’t want to hear it, but I have to. I force myself to look into his eyes. “Sometimes, in our world, we have to do things we don’t want to do.”
“How can you want me to marry a man I don’t love?” The break in my voice causes me to flinch. I don’t want to sound weak, but I am. In this moment, I’m torn apart, and it’s not because of what my father wants me to do it, it’s because of how he’s gone about it. Instead of sitting me down and explaining what he’d like, he’s practically sent me here with one goal in mind.
“How can you know you won’t love him if you don’t give yourself a chance to get to know him?” The challenge is clear. My father will not falter. “You’re here. Time will be the factor that will give you a new life. Spend time with Creed. Give him a chance.”
“And if I don’t love him even after that?”
Dad pushes up from where he’d been seated. He nears us, closing the distance, stopping just in front of me. His large hands engulf my face, my cheeks scorched by his warmth.
“I love you, Princess,” Dad tells me. And even though I don’t want to believe him, I do. Because as much of an asshole as my father is being right now, I know he does actually lov
e me.
I can’t respond, though, not right this minute; if I do, I’ll only break my father’s heart because as much as I do love my dad, I hate him right now. So instead of answering, I nod.
He leaves. His footsteps echo in my ears before they dissipate into the night. The click of the kitchen door is the only evidence someone was here. Creed’s arms slowly release me, and I turn to regard him.
“I had to make it seem real.” His voice is low when he admits it. “I had to make sure Devon believed I was going to give you up.” Something flickers in Creed’s eyes, guilt perhaps, I’m not sure, but it’s gone the next second, and whatever it was, I know I’ll not see it again.
“I can’t love someone like you.”
“A monster? A killer?” The pain in his voice knocks the breath from my lungs. “That’s okay, little mouse,” Creed tells me. “I never expected love from anyone in my life. Not even the men I call brothers.”
“Why? Surely, they love you.”
“Love and loyalty are two very different things, Micaela,” he tells me, and I can’t argue the fact. The men who work for my father may not love him, but they are fiercely loyal.
“You want this?”
Dark eyes bore right to my soul. It’s as if Creed can see me, see inside me. All those secrets I’ve hidden for so long seem to be showing themselves to the man I’m supposed to marry. I don’t know how long I have before my father wants me to walk down the aisle, but forcing my heart to do one thing while my mind is fighting it, will be a challenge.
“Why wouldn’t I?” A smirk curls Creed’s lips. “You’re beautiful, you’re feisty, and you’re . . .” His eyes track my curves from my chest all the way down to my hips and then my legs. “Perfect.”
“Nobody is perfect,” I tell him. Honesty scraping my throat raw.
This time, he shrugs. “Perhaps.” Creed takes a step closer to me, his body looming over mine. “But when I see something I want, I take it.”
“I’m not yours.”
“Yet.”
We’re at an impasse. “I don’t date men who cheat on me.”
“I don’t cheat on anyone. If I’m with a woman, I bury my dick in her and only her.” His voice lowers to a husky growl. “And I’m sure I’m going to enjoy sinking my cock inside you.”
“Do you even have a filter?” I bite out, my cheeks heating in embarrassment, which doesn’t make sense; it’s not like I’m some frigid virgin. But there’s a filthiness about Creed that makes me feel like this is my first time. It’s ridiculous and stupid, but I can’t stop myself from burning up from his words.
“I don’t spread my legs for just anyone,” I tell him. “And even if I were to agree to this, there is no way we would ever be physical.”
“Are you sure about that?” He steps closer. “Because, I won the bet,” he tells me. “Which means you owe me a kiss.”
“You’ve got to be joking.”
“Oh, little mouse, I never joke when it comes to kissing, or sex, or anything physical I would like to do with you for that matter.” There’s a sinful grin on his face, which has heat coursing through me, right down to the spot between my thighs. Arrogance is his cologne, and he wears it like a fucking professional.
“I am not now nor will I ever kiss you.” My tone is biting. His hand trails over my bare arm, the skin dotting with goosebumps in the wake of his touch. Hot and cold, that’s what Creed is, and my hormones are working overtime the moment his fingers tangle in my hair.
“Did you not hear me earlier?” he asks. “I love to take.”
“Try it.” My challenge is clear. My hand traces a path down to his dick, and I grip him hard. My fingers digging into the rigid flesh under my touch. “Because I know how to bring a man to his knees, and it won’t be pleasurable.”
“If all it took for you to grab my dick was me fisting your hair, I would’ve done it sooner.” His mouth moves closer, his hot breath mingling with mine. Heat sears me when he cups my cheek in his free hand and swipes his thumb over my lips.
“You’re an asshole,” I bite out.
“But that’s how you like it,” Creed tells me confidently. “Isn’t it? You love bad boys. Knowing there’s darkness inside me makes your pretty pussy wet.” The air in the room is stifling. My lungs can’t pull in breaths fast enough to find my response because, in the next second, his lips are feathering along mine. The tip of his tongue dances along my mouth in a wet, hot line of destruction that breaks down every fucking defense I had up.
11
Creed
Her mouth molds to mine as if it was made to be kissed by me. Her tongue dances with mine, tangling, fighting me, but she doesn’t push me away. Her hand on my dick is taunting, and I want nothing more than to bend her over this kitchen table and fuck her senseless. I want to show her just how much I fucking own her.
But I wait.
The kiss deepens. I tangle both my hands in her long, flowing waves, and I pull her closer, impossibly so, just to feel every part of her against me. Micaela finally releases my dick, and both her palms land on my shoulders. She holds herself up as I trail my one hand down to her ass and grip the firm globe in my hand.
A whimper falls free when I finally break the kiss. Her lips are swollen from the intimate gesture, and her eyes are glazed over, pupils dilated. I expect her to slap me, but she doesn’t. Instead, she shocks the shit out of me by lifting her knee.
I act fast, and she misses my steel-hard dick by inches. Her knee making contact with my thigh. And I watch her stumble backward, holding onto her knee.
“Fuck!” I want to laugh, but I don’t. Biting my tongue, I reach for her, but she rejects my assistance with a huff. “Leave me alone.” Frustration is painted on her pretty face, her eyes still dark with desire as she settles on the chair, rubbing her knee.
“I think that hurt you more than it did me.”
“Because you moved,” she retorts hotly. And this time, I can’t stop grinning. “You’re such an asshole.”
“And you’re a bitch, but I like it. Only, next time, don’t try and break my dick, unless it’s while you’re bouncing on it.” This earns me an eye-roll, but I don’t care. The satisfaction of making her crazy has taken hold of me, and I know I’m going to enjoy these next few months.
Silence fills the kitchen, but I don’t tear my gaze away from Micaela. Even in her anger, I can tell she’s special. The fact that my father agreed to me changing the agreement he had originally made, allowing me to unite our families has me excited at the prospect. But for her, I think it’s come as more of a shock.
I never once saw myself married or even having my own family. I was born to parents who didn’t want me, and even after Octavius adopted me, I didn’t think I would ever be in a situation where I would want kids.
But now, looking at Micaela, I realize her father will want sons. He has a legacy to hand down, and she’s the only child. There’s nobody else who can step up and give him grandchildren.
With the Havens, I have two brothers who can give my dad children who will be able to carry on the name. Even though we’re not blood, we are strong, loyal, and consider ourselves family. Albeit unconventional.
“I don’t know if I can do it. My father expects everything of me, yet I just don’t know if I can step up and be the daughter he needs.”
“Because you hate me that much?” I use a teasing tone, which causes her to look up. There is so much guilt, pain, and sadness in her eyes I suddenly feel like I want to comfort her. But it’s not me. I’m not the sweet, affectionate type. “Listen,” I say, pulling out a chair and sitting opposite her. “I know why we have to do this. To me, I’m winning. But my father took me in when I was young, really young. I don’t know who my real family is, but Octavius gave me something I was missing, even when I didn’t think I needed it. If I can repay him in any way, I will.”
Admitting my feelings or even just how much I want to do for the man who’s been my father is jarring. Micaela looks at
me for a long time. Her eyes shining with something I can’t quite put my finger on. I don’t reach for her, I don’t touch her, even though my fingertips tingle with the need to feel her smooth, porcelain skin.
“I didn’t think you had a heart.”
I smile. “I never said I did.”
“Only someone with a heart would feel like that toward another person,” she tells me confidently. There’s a shift in her expression, it’s slight, as if I’ve made her see me in another light perhaps, but it’s not as obvious as her anger or her rage.
“Like I said earlier, being loyal is very different from love. And it’s most definitely different from feeling affection.”
A hint of a smile brightens her face. Even just that tiny movement changes her expression. As if a light has been flicked on somewhere deep inside her.
The door suddenly bursts open, and my brothers saunter in. They’re a mess from the mud caked on their shoes, which they leave just inside the kitchen door. Their clothes are filthy, but with it being a Halloween-themed party, it could pass off as fake blood.
“The job is done,” Brody tells me.
Keirin looks at Micaela, then me. “Mr. McCray said to call him tomorrow. He wants to talk to you about the arrangements.” The man must’ve taken the body with him. I knew he wanted to collect, but I didn’t think he would come here tonight and take Devon’s corpse to New York.
“He happy with the job?”
“Yeah,” Keirin says. “He’s a scary fucker,” my brother adds. “Nothing like your girl over there.”
“I’m right here. You don’t have to talk about me as if I’m not even in the room,” Micaela bites out through clenched teeth.
“Easy tiger,” Keirin says with a chuckle. “I was just saying.”
“I need to go,” Micaela says, pushing to her feet, but her knees give out, and my arms wrap around her quickly, holding her against me. Those wide, green eyes lock on mine. A plea is so clear in them, and I want to make her feel good. I want to make her happy.
Wicked Love Page 21
