Taking Meghan: Disciples 5

by Sweet, Izzy

  Making my way to the shower curtain, it’s everything I can do not to pant and give myself away.

  There’s no time to waste, no time to steel myself again, so I just grab the shower curtain and rip it open.

  Gabriel stands on the other side in all his wet, naked glory. He’s already turned toward me as if he expected me.

  The sight of all his damp, glistening skin threatens to dazzle me, and I have to shake my head to clear it.

  I have a mission, dammit.

  “Meghan?” Gabriel asks, sounding more confused than worried.

  I take a step forward and do my best to keep my expression blank.

  Stiffening, his eyes narrow at me suspiciously. “What are you doing in here?”

  Lowering my lashes, I try to ignore how all his muscles clench and bulge as he tenses. He’s truly a work of art. A mouth-watering combination of ink and pure, brutal man.

  I take another step forward and another, until he’s moving back.

  Stepping into the tub with him, I say, “I think it’s time we had a heart to heart.”

  Just as I bring the knife up, I’m grabbed and shoved into the tile wall.

  Gabriel’s fingers wrap around my throat as I push the tip of the knife into his left pec, above his heart.

  Gaze darkening, his eyes flick down to the blade and back up to my face. “A heart to heart, huh?”

  9

  Meghan

  “Yes,” I exhale roughly as Gabriel’s fingers squeeze around me.

  The force of his hold grinds my spine into the hard tile wall and I stretch up on my tiptoes, seeking some relief.

  I’m definitely starting to have second thoughts about this.

  Maybe I didn’t think this through, but fuck it. I have to do something. I can’t just sit around, playing the helpless damsel in distress.

  I fucking refuse to. This is my life and I will have a say in it, and if he refuses to cooperate…

  Well, only one of us will be leaving this bathroom unscathed.

  As I see it, we’re locked in a stalemate.

  When his fingers don’t let up, I poke the knife harder into his chest in warning. I don’t want to hurt him, I really don’t, but I will if he pushes me.

  The poke of the knife seems to amuse him. Lips curling with a smirk, his fingers relax enough to let me take another breath, only to squeeze around me harder after I do.

  “If you want to talk,” he says, leaning forward and pushing himself on the knife. “Then talk.”

  Unable to stop myself, I look down as his grip around my throat loosens and watch a trickle of blood roll down his chest.

  This fucker is definitely crazier than I am.

  I think he has a death wish.

  Shit.

  Looking back up, I try to remember what the hell I wanted to say, but nothing is playing out like I thought it would in my head.

  Does he have no sense of self-preservation?

  “Well?” Gabriel asks expectantly.

  “I can’t do this,” I gasp, though I don’t know who I’m answering, me or him.

  “Do what?”

  Just when I thought I couldn’t get any more disturbed by his actions, his thumb begins to stroke against my throat in a way that could be considered tender.

  I’m holding a knife to his heart and the fucker is practically petting me…

  “Any of this!” I hiss, trying to remember the whole purpose of this mess.

  Gabriel has me so flustered though, everything is turning to shit. How the hell am I supposed to intimidate him into giving me what I want if he’s not the least bit afraid of me?

  “I can’t do this Gabriel, I can’t. I won’t be your fucking captive or your tool for revenge.”

  Something sparks in his eyes. “Is that so?”

  “Yes,” I nearly growl and shake my head, trying to dislodge his thumb.

  His fingers tighten around me in warning and I stop.

  I take a deep breath to calm myself and hate that it burns a little. The weight of his hand around my throat is starting to feel more and more like a collar.

  It’s definitely a mark of possession.

  This whole stupid plan wasn’t supposed to go down like this. I was supposed to have the upper hand. I was supposed to be the one in control.

  How did he turn this around on me? Especially when I’m the one holding a knife to him?

  “I won’t be your fucking bedlam and mayhem, Gabriel,” I finally remember, and watch with satisfaction as the smirk slides right off his face.

  Yeah, I was paying attention when you were explaining why you married me.

  Staring him hard in the eyes, my pulses races as I add, “I refuse to be an object you use and discard once you’re done with it. I rather die than live like that.”

  And I fucking mean it. I wasn’t going to do it for Alexei, I would have slit his throat from ear to ear as soon as I was given a chance. And I sure as hell won’t do it for this asshole.

  “What the fuck are you saying?” he asks, his face hardening until it’s stone cold.

  I fix my grip on the handle of the knife, my palm and fingers starting to sweat from holding it like this.

  It’s so damn humid in here from the shower, the smell of his soap, his skin, is going to my head.

  “Either we do this for real…like we’re a team…”

  “Or?” he asks, his eyes locked on my eyes.

  I push the knife into him to make my point.

  “I see,” he says, his jaw clenching.

  Staring into his eyes, I try to figure out what the hell he’s thinking. He looks angry as fuck, but also contemplative.

  Seconds pass, our breaths mingling, my body flushing with heat, and my skin dampening.

  As much as I don’t want to acknowledge it, I can’t help but be aware of how close his body is to mine. Nor can I forget that he’s completely naked.

  The image of him dripping wet will forever be burned into the back of my eyes.

  He’s truly impressive, built like a fucking god... or a devil. A devil that draws me in with his eyes.

  “There’s one little problem with your request though, little girl,” he finally says, cutting through the oppressive silence.

  Clenching my teeth at the little girl remark, I resist the urge to push the knife into him harder. “And that is?”

  A slow grin spreads across his lips as I rise to the bait. “This marriage has been real to me from the beginning.”

  How is that a problem? I wonder in confusion.

  Before I know what’s happening, he’s pushing the knife away way too fucking easily and pressing his body against me.

  Pinning me to the wall, his mouth crashes against my mouth in a bruising kiss.

  Instantly, every little nerve in my body screams to life. Crying out for something only he can give.

  I’m so shocked at first, so caught off guard, I just freeze.

  Then the reality of what’s happening sinks its teeth in.

  No. No. No. No…

  This isn’t what I wanted. This isn’t why I came in here, or what I was trying to achieve.

  I try to twist my head away, but he growls and his kiss only becomes harder. More insistent.

  The more I try to fight him, the tighter his fingers squeeze around my throat, cutting off my air.

  How the fuck did me wanting to ask for a secret annulment turn into this? I think as I try to ignore his tongue pushing past my lips.

  Maybe because I never actually got around to the asking for the annulment part.

  Dammit.

  When I walked in here, I didn’t count on him making me so damn flustered I’d fuck up the little speech I came up with in my head.

  Reaching out with my free hand, I start shoving at him.

  Finally releasing his grip on my throat, he grabs up the hand shoving at him and pins it to the wall above my head.

  Shit. I don’t know what to do. I still have the knife, but I truly don’t want to hurt him l
ike that.

  I don’t really want to kill the only man who’s ever tried to protect me.

  He begins to push his way between my thighs, using his hips to lift my ass up. And as soon as I feel something hard pressing into my sex, my body reacts as if I was just struck by lightning.

  Unwanted jolts of sensation radiate from my core, zipping up my spine, and tingling through my limbs.

  My fingers tighten around the knife as it almost slips from my grip.

  I try to twist away, try to turn my head again now that his fingers are no longer locked around my throat.

  Grabbing my face with his other hand, his fingers press into my cheeks, opening my mouth wider for his invasion.

  His tongue sweeps in, claiming and conquering me without reservation.

  Do something, my mind cries out as my body begins to give in, my resolve melting into his kiss just like I did back in the church.

  I know from experience I can only resist his pull for so long.

  I literally only have seconds left.

  There’s just something about him, something dark and dangerous, that sings to me, drawing me in like a moth to the flame.

  I want to play with his fire. I want to combust in his arms, shedding the old Meghan, and be reborn as something new...

  And it scares the shit out of me.

  In an act of pure desperation, I bite down on his lip.

  He jerks back with a grunt.

  “I want an annulment,” I manage to push out of my raw throat.

  He stiffens with surprise then his face twists with fury.

  “No,” he growls low, sounding more like a beast than a man.

  I open my mouth to repeat what I just said, but his lips capture mine again, cutting me off.

  He kisses me so damn hard, it’s almost like he’s attacking me, the force of it grinding me into the wall.

  With each stroke of his tongue, with each hungry noise rolling down my throat, I find myself weakening. The fight seeping out of my bones as my brain turns to mush.

  So I do the only thing I can do right now.

  I bite him again to get him to stop.

  “No,” he growls again, lower, meaner, and angrier against my mouth.

  I bite him again and again, not accepting his no after no, until I finally really sink my teeth in and taste blood.

  He jolts away from me.

  “I don’t want to stay married! I want an annulment in exchange for my full cooperation. We don’t have to stay married, Gabriel. We can work together and be free,” I pant out before he has another chance to smother my words.

  I watch him, heart hammering against my ribs, as he reaches up, his fingers exploring the cut my teeth made on his lip.

  Stiffening, I try to prepare myself for his anger, for his retaliation. No doubt he’ll want to hurt me back for hurting him.

  His eyes darken, going nearly black, but it’s not in anger. Oh no, it’s a heated look full of lust.

  Oh god, he couldn’t have possibly gotten turned on by that…

  Mouth curving into a disturbing grin, he grabs me by the back of the head and leans in until we’re nearly nose to nose.

  “Free?” He chuckles, his warm breath caressing me. “Freedom is an illusion. No one is truly free… We’re all owned by someone or something.”

  I try to shake my head in denial, but his fingers tighten in my hair, stopping the movement.

  “You’re mine, Meghan. I own you now,” he says firmly.

  With nowhere to look but at his eyes, I find myself being pulled in, sucked into their harsh depths.

  “Mine to cherish… Mine to protect… You gave yourself to me. You put yourself willingly in my hands. You took the vow in front of God.”

  Oh, that’s rich, coming from a man who shot up a church.

  I blink at him, the spell he’s putting me under nearly broken.

  “I was under a great deal of duress,” I argue.

  “You had your choice and you made it,” he snaps. “No fucking take backs.”

  He’s truly fucking crazy if he thinks he owns me now. That just because he bullied me into marrying him, I’m somehow his.

  Growing frustrated, I decide to remind him, “I also vowed to cut off your cock if you touched me without my permission! And you’re touching me without my permission!”

  Gabriel chuckles again, and the low, rumbling sound goes straight to my core, filling my belly with warmth.

  How he can still be turning me on when I’m angry at him? I don’t fucking understand it.

  “Go ahead,” he dares me and slowly leans away, all his muscles rippling as he motions at his waist. “You have the knife in your hand. Do it.”

  Fuck, I totally forgot about the knife for a moment. My hand is so tense and sweaty I can’t believe I didn’t drop it.

  I shift it in my palm, getting a better grip, and seriously consider trying.

  Would serve him right.

  But when I glance down to see his stomach tightening with tension and his thick erection disappearing between my thighs, I’m overcome by a hot wave of pure want.

  Cocks aren’t pretty. In fact, they’re probably one of the ugliest fucking things on the planet. But to see his, to feel his, hot and throbbing against my flesh, it’s almost too much.

  As if he’s testing me, calling my bluff, I suddenly feel his cock twitch against me. The shock has me wrenching my gaze up.

  “Well?” he asks, his eyes fucking gleaming at me now.

  We both know I can’t do it. I’m all bark and no fucking bite, and this bastard just proved it.

  Dammit. Damn it all…

  “You’re sick,” I hiss, the knife trembling in my hand.

  Leaning in close, as if he can’t stand the distance between us, he purrs, “In sickness and in health, darlin’.”

  I have the sudden urge to stab him, stab him in his fucking heart for being a smart-ass.

  Instead, I clench my teeth and point out, “Funny, I don’t remember saying that.”

  He goes still, so still, I can’t help but hope I’ve finally gotten through to him. That he finally understands the absolute absurdity of this whole situation.

  Then his eyes light up as if he just had an epiphany.

  Oh, that can’t be fucking good.

  Pressing in closer, like a predator moving in on its prey, he curls himself around me until he’s blocking out the light. He’s so damn tall, so damn wide, I can’t see around him.

  He’s literally a wall of ink-covered muscle.

  His entire being, his entire presence fills my shrinking little world. Narrowing it down until I’m solely focused on him. His every breath, his every twitch.

  “Is that why you’re doing this?” he asks.

  I just stare at him stupidly. I don’t even understand the fucking question.

  “You doubt my commitment to this marriage. You doubt the sincerity of my actions,” he supplies, his bright, burning gaze locking on my mouth.

  What the fuck?

  “What?! No…” I immediately try to deny, that’s not why I’m doing this.

  I’m doing this because I want to be free…

  But a little nagging, little fucking annoying voice in my head suggests he may be onto something.

  I have been having a hard time wrapping my head around this arrangement. I don’t understand the point of it. It doesn’t make any damn sense.

  Why bother protecting me or trying to take care of me? If he wants revenge, or bedlam and mayhem, he could have gotten that by killing me, torturing me, or locking me up.

  Keeping me alive is a huge liability.

  As if he can read my mind, he says almost accusingly, “You do…”

  “I just don’t understand why you’re doing this,” I finally admit in frustration, bristled by his tone. “What’s in it for you?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” he asks, rocking his hips forward.

  His erection rubs against my soaked panties, intentionally or unintentionally fi
nding my clit.

  “No,” I grit out, trying my best not to moan.

  Grinning, he rocks his hips again. “I get you.”

  Those three words—I get you—stab right through the core of my fucking soul.

  He’s doing all of this because he wants me? He doesn’t even know me…

  Before I can even start coming to terms with his revelation, his mouth crushes against my mouth in a bruising kiss, cutting off my thoughts.

  He kisses me hard and deep, so hard and deep I feel it all the way down to my toes.

  My knees go weak, the will to fight back draining out of me.

  “I get you, to have and to hold…” he says between pulls from my mouth.

  I’m so lost in his kiss, so far gone in his taste, in his touch, I don’t even realize that he’s grabbing the knife out of my hand, wrestling it easily from my slick fingers, before it’s too late.

  It’s not even a contest. One moment I have the knife and the next he has it.

  Breaking the kiss, he points the knife at me and says, “From this day forward.”

  Panting for air, I stare at him in confusion until he fists the front of my dress, pulling it away from my skin.

  As he begins to saw through the black fabric, “You’re crazy,” just slips past my lips.

  And he is. To go through all this trouble just because he wants me… it’s insane.

  “Yes, we’ve already established that,” he smirks, not even trying to deny it.

  The dress splits open under the knife as Gabriel guides it down my chest. The blade comes dangerously close to my skin, but he wields it with such carefully controlled precision it never touches me.

  Once he reaches my bellybutton, he tosses the knife away. It clangs loudly against the tub as he grabs the fabric in both hands and uses his brute strength to rip it the rest of the way open.

  I’m not wearing a bra. Unfortunately, there wasn’t one under my wedding dress, most likely due to the corset. And I’m quite a bit bigger than Lily in the chest department.

  “Meghan…”

  Gabriel sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, his entire body stiffening.

  There’s nothing between me and his hungry, feral eyes now except for the tiny, pathetic strip of white fabric acting as my panties. I tremble against the wall, once again trapped somewhere between arousal and fear from the way he looks at me