by E. K. Blair
My eyes well as I nod, needing to believe that it is a part of him growing inside of me and not Bennett or Pike. I want it to be him because all I want is simply him. My tears fall as I gaze into his beautiful, green eyes. Eyes filled with adoration for me and I adore him just as much. I love him. And now I’m doubting everything because all I can see are the rolling hills of Scotland, a nineteenth-century estate, and Declan with our baby in his arms.
The pain of what it would mean to destroy everything good in this man and turn him into a murderer for the sake of this sick game Pike and I schemed up shreds my heart. I tried to stay focused, I tried to shut myself off from feeling anything towards Declan, I tried to stick to the plan. But I can’t do it. This isn’t a game; this is a man’s life. A good man’s life. A man that I deeply love.
I can’t ruin him and turn him into a monster. If sparing Bennett’s life, even though I want him to suffer for what he did to my life, means that Declan’s life won’t be destroyed, I’ll do it.
Killing Bennett isn’t worth sacrificing Declan.
My tears grow, spilling over and down my face as I whisper, “I love you. All I want is you. You and me and this baby.”
His cock thickens inside of me with each word I speak, but he doesn’t urge me to move as we remain connected, locked together intimately. I know what I must do, and it won’t be easy. Pike has given up so much these past few years while I’ve been married to Bennett. But I can’t do it. I won’t do that to Declan. Truth is, I don’t have to kill Bennett to get my fairytale—my second chance—because that fairytale is right here in my arms. This is the happiness I’ve been missing all my life.
So I’ll go to Pike and tell him it’s over. Tell him I’ll play it out, divorce Bennett, and fold my cards. I’ll live the rest of my life as Nina, the girl from Kansas, if that means I won’t lose Declan. I’ll bury my past.
“I want to own every part of you,” he groans as his eyes flare in heat, his fingers pressing into my skin as he grips my ass.
“You already do.”
“Grab my shoulders and move,” he commands, and I obey, lifting up along the shaft of his cock before gliding back down.
I continue to work the length of him, my pussy snug around him, gripping him in needy ecstasy as the water laps around our bodies. He handles one of my breasts in his hand, tugging on my hardened nipple as he drags his tongue over my other breast before fiercely sucking me into his mouth. With his teeth bared, he scrapes them along the delicate skin and then bites down with force. Screaming out in a seething aura of pleasure and pain, I ride his cock, rolling my hips over him. The warm water swirls over my swollen clit with each of my thrusts, driving me towards my peak.
Declan continues to work my tits, laving me with his tongue, feasting like I’m his last meal and he needs me to survive. He then grabs my hips, jerking me to pound against him as he shoves his cock deeper inside of me, hitting that bundle of nerves that only he’s done, and I can’t hold on. Dropping my head back, he quickly finds my hand, interlacing our fingers and squeezing it tightly. I pulse and spasm around him as the colorless light of my exploding orgasm blinds me. When I writhe against him, he wraps his free arm around my waist and roughly pins my body down over his cock. He throbs inside of me, growing and contracting with each pump of cum he shoots inside of me.
“Fuck,” he moans in a sensual brute as we both come together.
Holding me close to him, my body begins to tremble in fiery aftershocks. I’m wrapped all around Declan when he eventually pulls his head back. Our breaths are erratic and labored as we try to find our way back down.
In a staggered voice, Declan pants, “I want to make you into everything you’ve ever dreamed of being.”
And with those words, I don’t need any convincing.
Fuck Bennett.
Fuck the revenge.
Fuck it all.
I have everything I’ll ever want right here inside of this beautiful man.
I HAVEN’T GONE to see Pike yet. I know I have to, but I’ve been afraid about how he’s going to react to the news that I want out of this. Bennett has been back in town for the past few days, and I find myself caring less and less about playing his wife. For me, it’s over, but I feel I can’t walk out until I talk to Pike.
I’ve seen Declan every day since Bennett has returned, and to say he’s growing impatient with me is a severe understatement. My excuses are wearing thin, so I finish getting ready to drive out and tell Pike the new plan—the plan that will, for the first time, leave him without me by his side.
The guilt is insurmountable at this point. How do you tell the man, who is probably in love with you, and the one who has been your protector for the past twenty years, that it’s no longer the two of you? That you’ve fallen in love and want to be with that other person? Pike and I have always been together, always honest with each other, until now. I told him I didn’t love Declan, but I knew he could see right through me. See deeper than even I could at that point. I knew I cared for Declan, that he was a friend that I was being drawn to, but I hadn’t yet realized that I had already fallen for him. Pike already knew though; that’s how connected we are.
The house phone rings as I throw on my sweater, and when I answer, it’s Manuel from downstairs.
“Mrs. Vanderwal, I’m sorry to disturb you, but there’s a gentleman here saying he’s a cousin of yours.”
“What?” I question, wondering who the hell is down there, and then I hear the unmistakable voice of Pike, arguing, “Dude, just let me go up.”
“Yes, please, Manuel,” I quickly interject as rampant fear streaks through me. “Go ahead and send him up.”
My nerves crash, confounded as to why the hell Pike would come here. Never has he come here. We agreed from the start that our paths would never cross outside of Justice, so as I pace the foyer, waiting for his knock, I try to grapple with my thoughts and compose myself, all the while knowing what I must tell him.
When the knock comes, I open the door, grab his arm, and yank him inside, snapping, “What the fuck are you doing here?”
But his eyes don’t meet mine, instead they scan around the room, taking in my home of the past four years. “Holy shit,” he murmurs. “So this is where you’ve been while I’m rotting away in that shit tank?”
“Pike, what are you doing here? Are you crazy? What if Bennett was home?”
“Relax, Elizabeth. I’ve been sitting outside all morning waiting for that shit-stain to leave,” he says, walking past me and into the dining room. “So . . .” he starts, letting the word linger as he drags a finger down the length of the cherry wood dining table, “. . . where the fuck have you been for the past month?” His words scrape out in frustration.
“I-I’m sorry. I ju—”
“Cut the shit. You told me Bennett was going to be out of town this past week, yet you never once came by to see me. Why is that?”
“Pike, please,” I say on a shaky voice as chills run down my trembling arms, scared shitless with what I’m about to reveal.
“Please? What the fuck is going on with you, Elizabeth?!” he shouts, his voice booming through the open space as he slams his fist against the table. “You used to run to me the second Bennett left, you used to beg for my dick, but now, when you do finally decide to show your face, you rush out the door.”
“Why are you screaming at me?!” I yell.
“Because you’ve got a job to do and it isn’t getting done!” He walks the edge of the table and back over to me, but when he gets close, I take a step back. “Why isn’t it getting done?”
My pulse races as I stutter out the words I’ve been afraid to say to him. “B-Because . . .”
“Because why?” he hisses as he glares at me.
Swallowing hard, I force out the words, “Because I want out.”
His jaw locks and he begins a rhythmic clenching and unclenching of his hands, fisting them at his sides. He takes a moment before he breaks the silence, seething, “
What do you mean you want out?”
“Pike, please don’t flip out on me,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm.
“What do you mean you want out?”
“I can’t . . . I can’t do this anymore.” My face grows hot with the tears that threaten.
“It’s Declan, isn’t it?”
“I’m so sorry, Pike. I never thought—”
“You’re nothing to him but an illusion, Elizabeth,” he says, cutting me off.
“I love him.”
My confession sparks a fury in his eyes, and when he takes another step towards me, I take another back, pissing him off.
“So, what now? You think he loves you back?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
“You’re full of shit. You have no idea what you’re saying. You’re so wrapped up in this lie that you’re buying into this false reality. But it’s false, Elizabeth. It’s not real.”
“It is.”
“It isn’t. You are not Nina. Can’t you see that?”
“And what’s Elizabeth? Huh? I mean . . . who is she really? Is she me?” I question as the levies break and the tears fall down my cheeks. “Because she doesn’t feel like me. Because she was never supposed to be me!” My words now cries, pleading cries. “She only existed because of Bennett!”
“That’s right, Elizabeth!!” he barks furiously. “Bennett! Feel that fucking hate! He’s the reason for all of this! Don’t lose sight of what he did to your life! To your father’s life!”
And my fury parallels his, except that fury is robed in a mass of sadness and desperation when I shriek, “I know! God, I know, but I can’t do it. I can’t destroy Declan like that.”
“Fuck Declan! He’s the pawn. He’s always been the pawn, and you, the queen.”
“But sometimes the queen falls.”
“Not you,” he says sternly as his hands grip my shoulders that tremor under my emotions. “I’m not gonna let you fall.”
“I already fell, Pike. I want out. I’ll finish this; I’ll divorce Bennett, and no one will ever have to know about this.”
His fingers tighten around my shoulders, painfully. “You don’t love him,” he whispers, and I hear every morsel of pain he’s trying to hide, but I can’t lie.
“I do love him,” I say under my breath, and as soon as he drops his head, he lifts it right back up. The look in his eyes turns to cold stone, and he takes a couple steps back, releasing his hands from me.
His sudden shift in demeanor rattles me as I watch him start to subtly shake his head before questioning, “Are you not telling me something?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the fact that your hand hasn’t left your stomach for the past few minutes,” he says, and when I look down, I see that I’ve got my hand right where he said it was—an unconscious act of protecting what’s inside—and suddenly, all the blood drains out of me, leaving me utterly terrified as I watch the viperous hate surface in his eyes.
You’ve heard of Newton’s first law of motion, right? The one that states that an object in motion will remain in motion unless acted upon by an unbalanced force? It’s a science that can’t be negated, and with the game in full speed, I’m about to learn the catastrophic consequences of that law.
“Pike,” I soothe, needing him to calm down.
“Tell me that I’m losing my mind right now. That I’m not thinking clearly. That I’m not—”
Holding my hand up in front of me, I try coaxing my words as I speak slowly, “Please, Pike. I need you to just—”
And then he loses it, exploding like a grenade, screaming in sulfur, “Tell me you are not fucking pregnant!!”
“Pike!” I yell as he grabs my arms violently.
His face—raging red, spitting his words, “What the fuck have you done?”
“Nothing! Let go of me,” I yell, panicked, jerking to break free of his hold on me.
“Tell me!”
“Yes!” I immediately shout back, and he releases his grip.
He turns away from me, raking his hands angrily through his hair, as I stand here, nervously awaiting his next move. He keeps his back to me when he continues to talk, “You’re fucking pregnant. Jesus Christ. And it can’t be mine because you haven’t been fucking me.”
I don’t correct him because he assumes that I’m not as far along as I actually am. This baby could very well be his.
He turns back, and the look in his eyes scares the living shit out of me. I don’t see Pike behind them, only a monstrous version of what could be my brother. And when he starts moving towards me—body tense—the shrill of horror stabs me.
“This is over right now. I’ve spent too many years for you to fuck this up.”
“What do you mean?” I ask as I start backing away from him.
And then my world goes into a paradox of raging fast slow motion.
His arm rises with a tight fist.
My arms wrap around my stomach.
Fist barreling down.
My eyes squeezing shut and coiling away.
A collision of knuckles against jaw.
Blow after blow, he’s relentless as I fall lifelessly to the ground. The light begins to fade as my screams lull me into the blackness. My lungs cave with every fatal kick to my stomach, and there’s nothing I can do as I lie here defenseless to this monster above me. A beating fire of pain ruptures inside, paralyzing me to a corpse as I feel everything breaking inside of me. My screams turn breathless and everything vanishes as Pike grunts like a wild beast, hammering his booted foot over and over and over into the womb that carries the purest part of me.
Black ink bleeds over me as I drift into nothingness. I’m a hollow tomb. Looking up, I see a dark sky, flickering with diamonds. Thousands of them. There’s no more pain—there’s nothing in this solitude of pure, deathly silence as I lie here and stare into the endless black hole.
Wishes.
I could make an infinite amount of them with all the stars that shine down upon me. But I’m not lying on the ground. I don’t feel anything as I float in negative space.
Where am I?
How did I get here?
And then I see him. My old friend. He never changes and that constant nurtures the despair that has always followed me. His green and yellow accordion body slinks over to me, and it’s then that I realize how small I am because he appears to be the same size as me.
“I’ve missed you,” he says in his eloquent English accent.
“I’ve missed you too, Carnegie.”
“Where have you been?”
“In hell.”
“Is that why you came back?” he asks.
“I don’t even know how I got here,” I tell him, and he smiles, saying, “Maybe someone knew you needed a little break from hell,” as he gives a nod up to the heavens.
“Maybe,” I whisper and roll over onto my belly. It’s then I see where I am. Large, green blades of grass standing high above the mass of earth beneath. Gigantic trees that border a sea of dark water. Brilliantly massive blooms are illuminated by the full moon above, casting its glow on the array of colorful, exotic flowers; pink, orange, yellow—but no purple in sight. And when my eyes shift down, I take in a breath of awe when I realize why Carnegie doesn’t look so tiny. My body, a tube, roped in pink and black, and when I look back at Carnegie, he laughs, “It’s spectacular, isn’t it?”
“I’m a caterpillar!” I say in wonderment. “Carnegie, do you see this?!”
“I do.”
And then it all comes together. I finally made it. I’m here . . . in the magical forest . . . and I’m a caterpillar, floating in a pond that seems like an ocean because I’m so tiny. I begin laughing as we float on our lily pad raft.
“It’s good to see you smiling,” he says as I scoot around the large, green leaf, reveling in my new form.
Meandering around, I respond, “It’s been a while since I’ve felt this free.”
“May I ask you a question?”
“Why do you feel like you’re in hell?”
His question dulls my zealousness, and when I flatten my body against the lily pad, I tell him, “It’s always been hell, Carnegie. But lately, it’s become overwhelming.”
“What happened?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Look around,” he says. “I’ve got nothing but time.”
“I’m sure, but to relive everything isn’t something I wish to do.”
“Then tell me what happened last.”
I blink and then look up at the black sky, glittered in stars, and tell him, “I fell in love.”
“Ahh, love,” he says as if he’s wise in that spectrum, so I ask, “You ever been in love?”
“Me?” he questions and looks out over the water. “No. I was turned into a caterpillar before ever having the chance to experience such an emotion. But I wonder why it’s hell you feel.”
“The love is the only part of this story that isn’t hell.”
“Tell me what it feels like. Love.”
A few fireflies above catch my attention, and as I watch them making skittering dashes of swirling light, I answer, “Amazing. It’s like an urgency that can never be sated because you can’t get enough. One day, you’re walking through life, thinking you’re satisfied, well, as satisfied as you can be, and then, when you finally feel the click and get your first taste of love, you realize you’ve been starving your whole life but never knew it. And that one person is all you need to truly feel alive.”
“And you found that?”
Giving Carnegie my attention again, I reply, “Yeah. I never knew what it felt like to breathe until I met him.”
“So what’s hell?” he asks.
“The man I’m married to.”
“The one who allows you to breathe?”
“No, the one who slipped the noose around my throat and caused me a life of suffering,” I tell him as his beady eyes widen.
