by Logan Fox
I’m so close, to keep still like this is excruciating. But I let her ride out her orgasm, kissing her neck and nibbling her ear. She shudders, falls back on my desk. I pull out, drag her a little closer, and—
Clover twists away, stands, picks up her towel, and is out my office door before I can blink.
“Clover!”
I turn and almost walk into the office door she slams behind her. I wrench it open, jaw bunching and dick throbbing as I stalk down the hall. The bedroom slams, and as I grab the handle to throw it open, I hear the key in the lock.
“Thanks for the fuck, Dr. Hill,” she yells through the closed door. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna be pregnant for the rest of the day. Oh, and I’ll take my lunch at noon. Thanks, babe.”
I stand staring at the door, mouth open, not even realizing I have my hand on my cock until I feel it throb in my grip.
Jesus fucking Christ. I try to shove my dick back in my pants, but it’s too engorged. I hobble back to my office, slam the door, and furiously jerk myself off.
When I come, it’s with barely a sound and the image of Clover’s mocking smile filling my mind.
If this is her revenge, then I’ve dearly underestimated her. She knows I won’t hurt her, won’t throw her out, won’t touch her while she’s carrying that baby.
Is she going to dangle me on a string as long as she can?
I fall into my chair, using a handkerchief to clean the mess I made, and open my web browser. I hesitate, then type,
how to safely induce labor in the third trimester.
But I don’t hit enter. Instead, I rest my head back and let out a stifled sigh.
She’s still wearing the ring.
A normal person would have taken it off by now. A sane person would have left, even if they had to walk back to Mallhaven on bare feet.
But if there’s one thing I know about Clover Vos; she’s about as normal — and as sane — as I am.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Hunter
FIVE WEEKS LATER
My cellphone goes off. I glance at the screen and push back my shoulders. I open the property gates with a tap on the screen and glance down at the letter in my hands. The words are still the same, but the tone keeps changing depending on where I am in my thought process.
I shall receive her with much delight and jubilation.
I fold the unsigned note and put it into my pocket. Someone slipped it under my front door in the middle of the night. I don’t care to think too long on how Father’s men got past my security system.
Closing my office door behind me, I call out, “They’re here.”
For a moment, I expect to hear Clover’s irritated growl, but she’s standing at the threshold of our bedroom an instant later.
She’s carrying light — her baby bump barely lifts the kaftan she’s wearing. She used to despise that type of clothing, but after she outgrew her other clothes, she reluctantly agreed to have a few kaftan’s tailored for her.
“Just not beige, or red,” she’d told me grumpily.
“Then what color?”
“White. Or blue.” She’d fluttered her eyelashes at me. “Goes with my Morningstar eyes.”
“Ready?” I ask, dragging myself back to the present with difficulty.
She nods and holds out her hand. I take it, leading her down the stairs as if we’re the main guests at a ball thrown in our honor.
Kane and Zee are at the door when I open it, and Zee zips past me and throws her arms around Clover hard enough to rock her.
“Careful!” I snap before I can help myself.
After I received word of the accident a few weeks ago, my first initial response had been an overwhelming panic. When I arrived at Mallhaven Hospital, the first words out of my mouth were, “Did she lose the baby?”
In my defense, I already knew Clover was alive and out of danger, other than a broken ankle, a concussion, and some minor contusions. But the baby…
Was a fighter, it turned out.
The same day, I had Clover released into my care. The doctor hadn’t been happy, but he hadn’t had a choice — not unless he wanted to find work someplace my word of mouth wouldn’t reach.
Now Zee comes in here and practically bowls her over.
Zee flinches, releasing Clover and stepping back with her hands behind her back.
“The fuck, man?” Kane snaps, pushing past me and taking hold of Zee’s shoulders to steer her away.
It almost looks like he wants to leave, but I didn’t mistake the frustration in his voice on the phone call between us last night. He’d accepted my invitation as soon as I’d given just a hint that I would provide him the answers he’d been asking for since that night I made him fuck Clover.
“Clover?” I ask, closing the door with my fingertips.
She’s watching me with wide eyes but then smooths her hands over her belly, drawing the kaftan tight and revealing her concave womb.
“Mother Mary have mercy,” Kane mumbles.
Zee lets out a gasp and hides behind Kane. All eyes go to her as Kane tries to get her front and center again, murmuring inaudible nothings to her. Instead, she shoves away from him and bolts upstairs. We all flinch when the bedroom door slams shut.
“Think you’re going to have to replace that door soon,” Clover says, and then walks over to the couch and lowers herself down. She loves making a show of how very pregnant she is, even though she’s only two months along. I can’t bear to think what she’s going to be like during the last trimester.
It took a lot of convincing, but I finally managed to have Clover agree to carry the baby to full term. I’ve never given as many foot rubs, back rubs, and oral pleasure to a woman in my life as I have Clover the last few weeks.
Not that I’m complaining.
When my eyes move back to Kane, he’s glaring at me. “Can I talk to you?” he says, although when he grabs my arm and steers me into the kitchen, I realize it’s not exactly a request.
“How far along is she?” he asks, hunting in his pocket and taking out a cigarette. I frown, but his answering glare makes me shrug.
“Eight weeks.”
His gaze flickers over the kitchen and then back to me. “So?”
“So?”
“You’ve done a fucking paternity test, right?” he growls, inhaling hard and then coughing even harder.
The silence between us stretches like taffy. “I know who the father is.”
Kane exhales in relief, sending a rush of cigarette smoke my way. I wave it from my face with a grimace and head back to the living room.
“Hey,” Kane calls out.
I turn to him, eyebrows lifting.
“I thought you wanted to talk.” Kane takes another drag, narrowing his eyes from the smoke.
“I do. But Clover’s as much a part of this as you are.”
Kane bites hard at the corner of his mouth, looks away, and then looks as if he’s cracking his neck in preparation. He walks past me, muttering, “Then let’s get this over with,” as he passes.
He sits in the armchair furthest away from Clover and keeps his gaze fixed straight ahead. She lifts her head, widening her eyes at me until I join them. She has one hand draped over her belly, but it’s less a maternal gesture than a reminder of why Kane is here.
Clover never had anything close to the patience of a saint and, lately, she’s even more short-tempered than her fiery hair would suggest. I have the urge to hang a CAUTION sign from her so I don’t keep forgetting how volatile she is.
She’s invented very interesting ways of punishing me for any supposed transgressions.
But I risk her anger to take the time to pour us a shot of whiskey. Just as I suspect, Clover glares at me when I come back into the living room with the tumblers in my hand.
“Want some tea?” I ask her.
“Fuck off,” she snaps, shifting irritably on the sofa.
I sigh as I sit and take a sip of the scotch. “I’ve been offered a
seat on the Council of Nine,” I say to Kane.
He’s still investigating his scotch glass like he’s wondering if I’m going to drug him again. His eyes snap up. “That’s…great?”
I understand his hesitation. He sees anything to do with the powers that be of crooked Mallhaven to be riddled with evil.
“I haven’t accepted yet.”
“Yet?” he sneers at me over the top of his glass.
I swallow down the rest of my drink and set aside my glass. Clover’s hand slides over my thigh and gives me a squeeze. I glance at her, unable to hide my surprise. She gives me a small, encouraging smile, and rubs at her belly again.
Fuck this woman. I blink, look back at Kane, and try my darndest to remember what the hell I’d been going to say.
“Hunter doesn’t want to be part of a corrupt town council,” Clover says.
I nod, force myself not to look at her, and pick up my part of the conversation. “There’s something at work here. Something so insidious, we’re the only ones who’ve noticed.”
Kane shrugs. “So? Nothing we can do about it.” His hazel eyes narrow and grow dark. “We tried once before. Remember how that turned out?”
“This time, we’re going for the heart.”
He cocks an eyebrow at me and takes a hesitant sip of his drink. “We tried—”
“Father.”
Kane laughs, takes a packet of cigarettes from his pocket, and then puts them back a second later. “Tried that before, too.”
“It’ll be different this time.”
“Different how?”
“This time, I’m giving him Clover’s baby.”
Chapter Thirty
Clover
I didn’t expect this to come to a fist fight, but I’m starting to think it’s inevitable now. Kane’s on his feet, his tumbler on the floor, the air reeking of scotch. Hunter’s still sitting next to me, but the thigh under my hand has turned to stone.
“You’re what?” Kane asks, voice dangerously low.
Hunter sits forward, dislodging my hand. “It’s the only way to—”
“And you’re okay with this?” Kane’s head snaps in my direction.
For a moment, I’m tongue-tied with his demanding hazel eyes fixed on me. “Yeah,” I manage roughly before I can clear my throat. “I am.”
“Do you have any idea how dangerous that man is?” His eyes are still not on me. I shift in my seat, and this time it’s Hunter who puts a hand on my thigh.
“Who, the devil worshiping psycho who raped Zee and then stole her kid?” I try for blasé, but I probably get closer to shrill.
Kane’s eyes grow heavy-lidded. He glances down at the scotch — either regretting having wasted it or wondering if he should pick up the empty glass — and then heads for the door.
“Zee! We’re leaving.”
“Kane, please.” Hunter stands, takes two steps, and snags his friend’s arm. At least, I think they’re still friends. Actually, I don’t have a fucking clue. There’s legit tension between the two.
Zee appears at the head of the stairs. She’s gone and put on one of my dresses — that ugly red thing — and a pair of my heels. And god, it looks like she’s playing dress up with her scrawny limbs and gaunt face.
Kane glances up, beckons harshly, and then does a double take.
“Mercy, kid, what the—?” Then he storms up the stairs. Zee squeals and runs back into the bedroom. It slams — that poor, poor door — but from the sounds of it, Kane just opens it again.
I turn to Hunter, and we stare blankly at each other as a series of muffled giggles and muttered curses float down to us. The odd pair reappear, Kane with a white-knuckled grip around Zee’s hand, and Zee wearing the clothes she arrived in…if a little disheveled.
“Get help,” Kane throws at Hunter as he jerks Zee toward the door. “Whatever you’ve got, it just keeps getting worse.”
“That’s why I called you, Kane.”
The man stops walking and Zee stares back at Hunter. I know she’s not stupid, just mute, but sometimes I forget. Her eyes are wide, filled with fear. I doubt she heard our conversation from upstairs, but she knows shit’s going down. Her gaze happens to touch my belly, and then she’s hiding behind Kane again.
“Don’t worry,” I say dryly to her. “It’s not contagious.”
Kane glances at me as if he’s annoyed by the interruption, and then shrugs. “What, to tell you you’re in serious need of a shrink?”
“Because I need your help.” Hunter steps closer. “I can’t do this alone.”
“Yeah, I get that.” Kane’s gaze cuts toward me before he returns his narrowed eyes to Hunter. “Hate to say it, but you really know how to pick them.”
“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” I snap, surging forward like I’m about to lay one on him. Hunter puts out an arm, and I draw reluctantly to a halt, glaring at Kane over his bicep.
“Kane, please. If MJ ever meant anything to—”
Kane punches Hunter.
Chapter Thirty-One
Hunter
I reel, barely catching myself against a nearby armchair. Christ, but Kane’s strength hasn’t weakened one iota since he punched me outside Colby’s barn all those years ago. Stars dash my vision, but I see him charging me through them. Clover steps out to bar his way, but he pushes her aside hard enough to make her stagger.
Fury envelops me in volcanic heat. I surge up and gut punch him so hard he folds over with a nasty sound.
“You ever touch her again,” I whisper furiously, “I will kill you.”
An image of the driver’s swollen face — the one that ran Clover and Alexa off the road — flickers through my mind before I can shove it away. He never did come out of his coma, but I ensured his family received a generous settlement. And then told them to leave Mallhaven before I took it all back.
“Guys!” Clover’s voice fills the room, and it hauls me back to reality like a fly-fishing hook.
Kane is sitting on the floor, a shade paler than usual. Zee’s pacing two short steps either direction behind him, her face just as gray.
And Clover’s standing to the side, glorious in her wrath. “How long have you known him, Kane?” Clover asks, taking a step closer to where he decided to sit.
He doesn’t answer.
“Because you of all people should know by now that Hunter does what he wants when he wants. Doesn’t matter who get hurts in the process. Amiright?” She nudges Kane with her foot when he doesn’t respond. “Am. I. Right?”
He moves away from her prodding foot with an irritated grimace and slowly pushes to his feet. But his eyes are on me, not Clover.
Kane stabs a finger toward me. “You don’t get to say her name. Not ever. Hear me?”
I stare, silent. Clover growls. I give him a slow nod.
“And don’t you ever — ever — imply that I don’t think about her every goddamn day. That I don’t know exactly just how badly we fucked up,” Kane says, spittle flying out with the vehemence of his words. “Ever!” The last is a shout that rings through my home like a siren.
Zee begins sobbing into her hands. Kane reaches absently behind him, scooping her up and drawing her against his chest. He plants a kiss on the top of her head, but all without letting his glare shift from me.
“I want no part of this,” Kane says. “I’ve already lost enough.” He smooths down Zee’s hair, and for a moment I see a world of hurt pooling deep in his eyes. Ghosts, like shadows, wreath him.
To this day, I’ve never gotten the full story behind his time with Owen. What they did with their knives and their chains. Maybe one day I will…but I have a feeling that no matter how this turns out, Kane will never speak to me again.
I might miss him as a friend, but I doubt I’ve been more than a mild irritation to him throughout his life. Only calling when I needed something. Manipulating him. Using him.
Like now.
“You can’t hold me responsible for them,” I say, knowing
he’ll understand.
His eyes narrow to slits, and a mirthless smile touches his mouth. “Them? I’ve made my peace with them a long time ago.” He strokes Zee’s hair again and then squeezes her until she lets out a small squeak. “This is as good as it gets for me, Hunter. I’m not complaining — fuck knows, I deserve less — but what if something happens to me? Who’ll look after her?”
No one in the room has any doubt who he’s talking about. Zee snuggles against him and casts wet blue eyes in my direction.
“I know there’s nothing normal about this, but it’s all I got.”
“You’re part of this, whether you want to be or not.”
Kane shakes his head, opens his mouth. But before he can find words, I take Clover’s arm and draw her near. She watches me suspiciously as I slide my hands over her belly.
“I lied, before.”
She stiffens beneath me, and I feel her heart bang hard and heavy against her sternum when I glide my hands to the top of her tiny bulge.
“I’m sterile.” Another slow rub, and I feel Clover shaking beneath my hand. I don’t look down — I already know she’s glaring up at me with barely suppressed hatred.
“The baby’s yours, Kane.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Clover
I should have seen this coming. I mean, I’m not a mathematician or some shit, but fuck… how could I not have lined up the dates? Guess I was too busy being pissed at Hunter and stressing about the fact that he’d knocked me up.
Hunter’s chef came in and prepared us what should have been a delectable feast, but I’m about two seconds away from puking out my stomach lining. In fact, Hunter’s the only one eating and even he’s just picking at his food.
