Cruel Intoxication: A Dark Romance (Underground Kings Book 4)

by Kelli Callahan

  “Don’t,” I say, wrapping my hand around her wrist. I stand and pull her into my arms, embracing her small body with the safety a man can provide, that they are supposed to provide. “I left because I didn’t want to push. I didn’t want to spend the night and you wake up surprised. That’s all. It isn’t because I wanted to go, I didn’t. I love being by your side.” “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, babe. Dry those tears.” I wipe the darned things away and grin. “Get in bed. Let me throw some pants on, okay?”

  “Are you sure? I can go. I don’t want to be a burden.”

  “Are you kidding? Finding out I get to hold the woman who’s taken over every ounce of my mind? It’s a dream come true.”

  She crawls on the bed, and my eyes land on her swaying ass. Her hips are wide and her ass is plump. I wish she was crawling toward me, right up my body until she sat on my cock.

  My cock rolls under the towel as it grows from watching her put on an unexpected, innocent show. She has no idea how sexy she is. I hold my hands over the plumping bulge and take a few side steps to my closet as she snuggles into the fluffy white blanket and mattress. She’s so small, she almost disappears.

  She sighs in content, and I shut the closet door and drop my towel. I sneer at my cock and debate giving myself a pep talk to get myself in check, but that’s fucking stupid. I don’t need to do that.

  I grab a pair of gray sweatpants and open the door, then stroll to the opposite side of the bed where I usually sleep. She’s in my spot, but that’s alright. She can have it for as long as she wants. I pull the sheets back and slide into bed with her. I want to pull her close, hold her, show her she’s okay with me, but there’s a difference between falling asleep in the same bed and cuddling.

  So I don’t reach for her.

  I leave it up to her.

  I throw my hands behind my head and stare up at the ceiling, wondering how the hell I got myself into this situation. I look to the right, where Jolie is. On the other side of her in a drawer is a photo album full of the past with no promise of a future.

  And for the first time ever, I don’t have the urge to stare at Annabeth’s picture before I fall asleep. I want to stare at Jolie.

  She grumbles something and inches her way toward me. I hold my breath and don’t move. I don’t want to risk waking her and spooking her from me.

  Jolie lays her head in the crook of my arm and curls her body into a ball. I know it’s a big deal that she’s choosing me.

  Me.

  The guy half-fucked in the head and a bit wild.

  And Jolie picked me.

  I drop an arm and wrap it around her shoulders, locking her against me. Safe and sound.

  “Owen.” She sighs happily against my side.

  I glance down to make sure she isn’t awake, and she isn’t, but she’s smiling in her sleep. Maybe … she’s dreaming of me?

  One can hope.

  “I got you, Jolie. You’re safe with me. You’ll always be safe.” My eyes start to drift shut, and I search for the emptiness, the void in my chest that’s been there for twenty years.

  It’s not there.

  The wound is healing, and it’s fragile, still in the state of repair.

  Finally, after twenty years, I’m able sleep knowing when I wake up, I’ll feel whole.

  Seventeen

  Jolie

  Two weeks later

  “Okay, I’ll leave you alone so you can get undressed. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Sir, will you please—”

  “No, he is fine. He can stay,” I say, stopping the doctor from taking Owen out of the room. “He’s essential for my anxiety. Please.” I ask her, and I can tell she isn’t sure. I refused to go to a male doctor because the only man I want around me is Owen. I hated that I had to update her on what happened to me. Her eyes welled with tears, but she kept her composure and accepted the notes Owen gave her to update her own medical records.

  “Okay. I’ll be back soon.” Doctor Peirce side-eyes Owen, a small warning glance before she closes the door behind her.

  “I don’t think she likes me very much,” Owen says, rubbing his palms on his thighs. The last two weeks with him have been great. He’s been very attentive and respectful. He even set up therapy appointments for me. She comes to the house twice a week, and even though it’s only been four visits, I feel better already.

  I’m slowly coming together and feeling like a person again.

  “It’s women having each other’s back and all. It’s okay” I play with the hem of my shirt. I guess I didn’t really think this through because I have to get undressed in front of Owen. He hasn’t seen me naked since he found me in the woods. My body isn’t where I want it to be. I need to gain more weight, and I want the doctor to clear me before I can do any … physical activity.

  Owen pulls the curtain closed as I slip off my shirt. Fluffing my hair, I try to look my best for some reason. He’s seen me at my worst. Anything better than covered in mud and leaves, sweat and blood. I guess anything is better than that, right?

  I grab the gown off the exam table and tie it around my neck. I try to, but my fingers are shaking.

  “You okay, Jolie?” Owen asks, like he senses my nerves have got the best of me.

  “I’m, Owen, I can't tie the gown. I'm uhm…”

  “May I?” His voice is gentle.

  “Please?”

  The metal rings scrape against the rod as the curtain is pulled back. He lumbers over me, long thick legs and wide shoulders. He cracks his neck and sighs with relief as he steps behind me and ties the gown to my body. “There.” He bends down and presses a kiss to the base of my neck, and it sends tingles down my spine and my skin in a chaotic frenzy of goose bumps.

  His fingers slide down my shoulder blades and his mouth teases the shell of my ear. “You are phenomenal,” he whispers into my ear. I lean against him, and his erection presses against my ass. Right as I feel it, I wait for the moment of panic, the need to run, but only a bit of anxiety hits me. It isn’t enough to freak me out, just enough to keep me on my toes. “I’m sorry.” He clears his throat and takes a step away. “I swear, I’m not trying to seduce you; you are just fucking beautiful.”

  Before turning around, I unbutton my jeans and slip out of them, bending over a bit salaciously as I take them off and toss them on the ground.

  Owen growls behind me. I look over my shoulder, and he’s against the wall, fists clenched at his sides, eyes shut, and his lips are pressed together.

  Did I make him angry?

  Am I not … am I not doing this right? I straighten and tie the ribbons around my waist to hold the gown in place. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

  His blue eyes snap open, and his fists unclench. “Make me mad? No, babe. No. That’s the last thing you could do. At the end of the day, I’m in control of myself. I’m against that wall to control myself because you’re temptation, Jolie, and do you know how bad I want to give in to temptation?”

  “No.” I gulp, suddenly a bit self-conscious.

  He takes a step toward me and licks his lips. “You are—” We are interrupted by a knock at the door, and he groans, slumping his shoulders. “Damn it,” he curses.

  I giggle and plop on the exam table. I hike up the gown a little, not much, just a little above the knee because let’s face it, I’m not that bold.

  Yet.

  Owen’s hand lands on my knee then tugs my gown down. “Tease,” he says playfully and sends me a wink.

  I blush, and another schoolgirl giggle leaves my mouth.

  “I fucking love that sound,” he growls again and grabs my jaw, slamming his mouth against mine as if he can’t wait another second to kiss me. He’s been getting rougher later, but not in a way that scares me; in a way that lets me know he truly desires me. Owen doesn’t overpower me, doesn’t force himself on me, or threaten me.

  He shows me how much he desires me, and it makes me desire him too.

  “Sor
ry to interrupt,” Doctor Pierce says.

  “Oh sorry,” I say, wiping the evidence off my lips, not that it matters. My lips are swollen from his kiss. I feel like they are constantly like that lately.

  “Don’t be.” She chuckles as she flips through her medical chart. “Are you ready?”

  No.

  “Sure.”

  “Great. Lean back and place your feet in the stirrups,” she says as she walks over to the counter and grabs a pair of gloves.

  Instead, I clamp my legs together and look around for Owen. I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to go home. I need to get out of here. I press my palms against my forehead and try to forget the time he strapped my ankles to the bedframe for days upon days, using me, leaving me in my own piss and his come trickling down the inside of my leg.

  “Jolie,” Owen’s voice seeps into the fog of fear that’s suffocating me. Owen is the only one who has been able to penetrate it. I don’t know how he does it. I don’t know if he holds this magic that I don’t know about or what, but I’m thankful.

  I’m thankful for the peace he gives me when I’m unable to find it myself.

  “I can’t be here, Owen. I need to go,” I tell him, and the lights are suddenly too bright, stinging my eyes, blinding me. “I need to go.”

  “Listen to me. Hey, look at me.” His hands cup my neck gently, and his thumbs land on the apples of my cheeks.

  I take a few deep breaths and open my eyes, seeing his brows furrowed as he looks at me with concern, yet he smiles. “There you are.”

  A tear drips out of the corner of my eye, and my lip wobbles. Why am I like this? Why can’t I be better? Why can’t I be normal? Why can’t I love Owen the way he deserves instead of him waiting around for me?

  “You’re okay,” he says to me. “You aren’t there with him. You’re here with me. Feel me,” he says, grabbing my hand and laying it on his chest. “You feel that? That heart? Jolie, it’s beating for the first time in twenty years, and you did that. Be here with me; don’t be there with him. I won’t hurt you here like he is there.” He taps the side of my head. “Be with me.”

  I nod, and when he tries to let go of my hand, I grasp onto it harder. “Don’t let go.”

  “I’m never going to let go of you.” Owen pulls up a chair next to the exam table and strokes my hand. I feel so damn pathetic. I have to be stronger for me, for Owen. I want to be the person I deserve, that he deserves, and what a friend deserves.

  I want to be what I fucking deserve.

  “Are we ready?” Doctor Pierce asks, settling between my legs. “We don’t have to do this. Maybe another time.”

  “No, it’s okay,” I say, finally slowing down the panic raging inside me like a piston. “No stirrups, please?”

  Her gaze softens in understanding, and shame and a bit of embarrassment hits my face. “Of course, just bend your knees and let them fall to the side, like a butterfly when they flap their wings.”

  I do as she says and look away to Owen who is staring at me. I forgot how uncomfortable these exams are, and here I am, exposed to the damn world and vulnerable.

  Again.

  “Okay, you’re going to feel a bit of pressure,” Doctor Pierce warns just as those damn claws of freaking death are pushed inside me.

  I try not to tense, to stop my body from pushing the specula out. “You’re doing good,” Owen says.

  I chuckle from the odd confidence boost for something that’s so basic for a woman. “I’m a wreck.” I throw my arm over my eyes and wish I had decided for Owen to step outside.

  Owen chuckles. “Heaven said something when our lawyer got drunk off one drink. I believe it went something like this, “Yeah, but he’s our wreck” so how about,” he pauses. “You can be my wreck.”

  “You can’t say sweet things like that when I have my legs spread and getting my cervix scraped by a doctor.”

  “Well, it wasn’t awkward until you said that,” Owen grumbles.

  “You two are cute,” Doctor Pierce says from the space between my legs, and now it’s more awkward, especially when she peeks up over my … area. “I love seeing couples that are happy. Well, everything looks good here. There is some scarring, which is to be expected. It shouldn’t cause problems, but if it does, we will cross that bridge when we get there.”

  “Scarring? Where? You said it shouldn’t cause problems, but you are expecting it to?” Owen asks. “Is pregnancy dangerous for her? Will she be in pain?”

  “Owen, it’s okay. She said if. It’s okay. I’m just glad I’m alive is all.”

  “I know, but … what if it’s worse than she says? Maybe we need to go to the best gynecologist on the East Coast. Maybe they will know more.”

  “I’m telling you, Mr. Carter, everything is fine. I have the samples, and I’ll call you when they come in. Okay?”

  “Okay, thank you,” I say, watching her pop off the gloves and throw them in the biohazard bin. She leaves the room to give us privacy so I can get dressed again, and Owen is as white as a sheet.

  I figured this would be great news. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “I don’t want anything to happen to you. I just found you.”

  “It’s only a bit of scarring, Owen. I’m surprised that’s all that is wrong with me. I don’t have any diseases. I’m at a healthier weight. She says everything is fine, and you know what? I’m taking it. It’s more than I thought possible. I thought I’d have dozens of STD’s and health issues, but I don’t. I’m here. I’m with you. I’m on the mend of fixing what he broke. Everything is going to be okay.”

  Owen’s cell phone rings, and it breaks the moment we were having. He answers the phone. “Hello?” His voice is grated with exhaustion.

  I take the time he is distracted to get cleaned up and dressed. I slide my jeans on under my gown and then untie each bow around my neck and back, letting the crappy sheet they call a gown fall to the ground.

  Owen coughs as I bend over, and it makes me smirk when I look over my shoulder to see him staring at me. “What?” He tries to gather his wits about him and does quickly because he sits up straighter, suddenly serious. “Yeah, we will be there.”

  I slip on my shirt right as he hangs up the phone. “Everything okay?” I throw my hair up in a messy bun and plop it on top of my head.

  “That was Jaxon. Officer Howard is there to see us. It doesn’t sound good.”

  I blow out a breath, wondering when all this will end. “We will cross that bridge when we get there.” Even if the bridges are a hundred miles long.

  We will cross them.

  Eighteen

  Owen

  “There was a package delivered to me at the police station, no return address.” Officer Howard places two files on the counter. One folder is thicker than the other that looks like it has nothing in it, but I see the edges of a few sheets of paper.

  “Is everything okay? Was it a bomb?” Quinn gasps. “Oh my god. It was, wasn’t it?” She starts to cry again, and Officer Howard pulls her into a hug.

  “It wasn’t a bomb. It was a package to me, but the contents in it are meant for someone else.”

  “Oh, that’s good. Well, you know what I mean.” She rubs her belly and winces as a baby kicks her from the inside. “Sorry, just a bit emotional.”

  “Thank you for worrying, but I’m afraid the contents in the package were meant for you two.” Officer Howard plants his eyes on me and Jolie. “I think it’s best if we talk about this alone.”

  “No, this is my family. They will know anyway, so come out and say it,” I warn him, feeling a headache coming on. I want to lay down with all the lights off and nap with my arms wrapped around Jolie.

  Howard sighs, then rubs a hand over his mouth as he struggles with what he’s going to say next. “I’m going to go out on a limb here. The guy you killed, he isn’t dead, Owen. Jolie, I think your captor is still alive, and he knows where you are. He sent these to me.” He opens the first folder, the one that barely
has anything in it.

  “Oh God,” Jolie breaks down, placing a hand over her mouth when she sees a girl bound to a shitty bed, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Oh my god, that’s the cabin. That’s the bed. Oh my god. I think I’m going to be sick.” Jolie hovers over the sink as she tries to breathe, but the emotion is too high. Her knuckles turn white as she grips the counter, and she holds her hair to one side of her neck as she gags. “She looks like me.”

  “Yes, it seems he has a type. Brown hair, green eyes, petite,” Officer Howard says.

  “What’s in the other folder?” I ask and for the first time since knowing Howard, he looks like he feels bad for me.

  He slides it across the table and lets me open it. What I see makes my heart stop beating. “This…” I whisper. “This is impossible.” I stare at the crime scene photos of my wife, my dead, bleeding, knife-sticking-out-of-her-pregnant-belly, wife. I haven’t seen this in twenty years.

  “Owen,” Quinn gasps when she sees what someone stole from me.

  Everyone stares at me with pity because they had no idea how bad it really was. I thought blood was everyone then, but these pictures confirmed it. I shut the fold with a hard smack and hang my head, gripping the barstool so hard the metal bends.

  “Owen,” Jolie wraps her arms around me and lays her cheek against my back. I don’t shrug her off; I don’t get mad when I see the violence that used to be my life. If anything, I hold her closer so she keeps me grounded.

  Just because I finally decided to move on, doesn’t mean I stopped loving Annabeth. I’ll always love her, and she will always have a place in my heart, along with the daughter I’ll never be able to hold. Seeing the images is like breaking every bone in my body. My heart aches like it did the day Annabeth died in my arms, but it’s comforted all at the same time because Jolie has her hands on me.

  “What the hell is this?” Jaxon steals the file away and flips it open again. “What the fuck, Howard? Are you saying that this guy could be the guy who killed Owen’s wife and child and kidnapped and abused Jolie? Is that what you’re are insinuating?”