Kane raises the gun, aiming it at the back of the man’s head. The man lowers his head in defeat, knowing there is no way out of this.
My hand covers my mouth in horror while my eyes stay focused on the man who holds my heart. He glances at me as if he can feel my eyes on him, that unspoken connection between us still completely alive. He only holds my gaze for two seconds, but it feels like a prophecy. Like he’s giving me a glimpse in to my future, showing me exactly what is waiting for me when I’m pulled out of this car.
He moves his eyes back down, then without a second thought, he pulls the trigger.
The deafening sound of the bullet leaving the barrel makes me jump in my seat before I watch the man’s lifeless body fall to the ground with a soft thud.
I keep my hand tight over my mouth to muffle the screech coming from my throat, my heart feeling like it’s beating out of my chest. Blood is slowly creeping out of the body, so I take deep breaths, trying to calm down my stomach because I really don’t want to puke up my guts right now.
Kane hands the gun back to Jeremy like it’s the most normal thing in the world before he rounds the back of the car, getting back in.
Still trying to control my breathing, I avoid eye contact, and focus my gaze on the passenger seat in front of me.
I can feel Kane’s eyes on me before he sighs loudly and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“You really suck at listening.”
“When do I ever listen, Kane? It’s nothing new.” I scowl, looking into his piercing eyes, searching for something to make me feel better.
Regret.
Pain.
Humanity.
But his expression is void, answering my unspoken question.
He doesn’t feel shit.
Twelve
Callie
Six years ago – 18 years old
My arms are propped on the bar, tapping the wooden top as I wait for my bourbon. The bartender puts the glass in front of me, then I give him a short smile before I grab it, ready to turn around. My movement is stopped when I feel a hard chest against my back, two arms grabbing the bar on either side of me, successfully caging me in.
I don’t have to turn around to know exactly who it is; the smell of his heavy Italian fragrance instantly permeating my senses.
“What do you want, Ronnie?”
“Having fun, amoré?” His mouth is close to my ear, like Reign does all the time.
But while Reign makes me want to beg for more, Ronnie just makes me cringe.
I twist on the spot, holding my drink in one hand while the other lands on the designer shirt that is covering his upper body. I give him a soft push, trying to create enough distance between us before I give him a glare.
“It’s alright.” I shrug.
“Alright?” His black eyebrows move up before he slowly tries to close the distance between us. “I can make it a great night,” he coos in his attempt at being seductive and smoldering. He’s a handsome guy, he really is. But he’s just too smooth for me, in every fucking way. His sleek, shining black hair, the small bits of chest hair peeking out from his dress shirt. He doesn’t turn me on, he just pushes my buttons.
I stretch my arm to keep plenty of space between us, then I dart out of the way, moving myself behind him before I twist my body to face him again. He moves around and locks his eyes with mine, opening his mouth to say something before his face falls, and he purses his lips in irritation.
Reign.
I know he’s here because I can smell a hint of his woody cologne, and a warm feeling envelops my body. He presses his chest against my back while his arms wrap around my waist.
“Are you harassing my girlfriend again, Distucci?”
I chuckle as I lean into his muscled frame, loving the warmth that radiates off his body.
“Just making sure she’s having fun.”
“Oh, I’ll make sure she has fun,” Reign retorts, pressing a kiss to my neck.
An evil grin appears on Ronnie’s face, reminding me of the little weasel he was in high school.
“Got that thing you asked for,” Ronnie changes the subject.
I abruptly move my face towards Reign, who gives Ronnie a glare.
“What thing?” I narrow my eyes at Reign, spinning in his arms to force him to look at me.
He presses his lips together in a firm strip before an assuring smile forms on his face and he dips his chin to face me.
“Nothing, Angel.”
“Reign.” I scowl.
“What, didn’t you tell her? It’s her brother and all,” Ronnie taunts from behind me. My gaze is fixed on Reign, and I can see all the muscles tighten in his face before he bites his lip in frustration.
“Fuck you, Ronnie,” he barks.
He reaches up his hand to cup my face while still staring down Ronnie.
“What? You’ve got the green light? That’s what you wanted, right?”
“Reign, you promised me,” I seethe through my teeth, trying to keep it together.
He finally meets my gaze.
“Fuck, I know.”
Rubbing his face, he pulls me closer with his other arm. I try to wrestle out of his grip as he moves his head down again, meeting my eyes.
He’s waiting for me to speak, but I can feel the blood running through my veins as my anger boils. My hands start to itch to punch him in the fucking face, and I can feel the muscles around my mouth tighten in frustration.
“I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” he teases with a playful grin on his face, doing his best to make me laugh.
“I’m going home, asshole,” I spit before I push him off of me and head for the door.
I’m livid.
That fuckface won’t listen to me and is walking into a deathtrap. I love him for wanting to protect me.
Yes, I love him.
I know I told Imogen I didn’t know, and in a way, I don’t. I don’t know what love is; I don’t know what love should be other than what my mother taught me, and well, this comes pretty close. All I know is that I feel safe and strong with this boy by my side, and I love that feeling.
“Callie, Angel,” he pleads as he stalks behind me.
“Fuck you,” I growl as I storm out.
I wait until he opens the front door with my arms crossed in front of my body before I storm past him, going straight to the fridge. He tried to talk to me in the cab ride home, trying to grab my hand, calling me ‘Angel’ one too many times. He was pretty persistent while I stared out the window, too pissed to respond to anything he was saying.
When he finally placed his hand on my neck as some kind of last resort, I snapped my head towards him and just growled.
That worked.
My hand yanks the fridge open, looking for God knows what. I’m basically looking for something to keep me busy, anything to keep me from having to look at the source of my aggravation.
I hear him lock the front door before he throws his keys on the kitchen island.
“Angel, I’m sorry,” he sighs.
I hear him pull out one of the bar stools, telling me he’s sitting right behind me, staring at my back. I ignore him while I reach up to grab a bottle of water.
“Callie, don’t fucking ignore me.” There is less patience in his voice than there was ten minutes ago, and it’s pissing me off even more.
He is not allowed to be pissed right now.
I slam the fridge door closed, then I turn around and drop my back against the counter, giving him a vicious glare.
“Why not? Doesn’t fucking matter what I tell you, anyway.” I open the bottle and take a big gulp from it while my eyes stay focused on him.
His face looks troubled, like he really is conflicted over this whole situation.
“I haven’t planned anything.” He rakes a hand through his hair.
“YET. You haven’t planned anything yet.”
“No, I haven’t planned anything, and I’m not sure I will.”
“Shut up, Reign,”
I huff out. “Ronnie literally just said you got the green light.”
“So?” he counters.
“Wrong girl, babe,” I grunt as I move forward, slamming the bottle of water on the white marble of the kitchen island. “I was raised in this world. I know damn well ‘green light’ means you’ve got permission from Distucci Senior himself. Don’t act like I’m some naïve little girl who needs to be kept in the dark. Wrong. Fucking. Girl.”
“He hurt you,” he exclaims with pain in his eyes.
It should make my heart melt, and deep down it does. But the fact is that I’m not bullshitting him. I’m not exaggerating, trying to make this bigger than it is. I’m trying to keep him safe, and his superhero act is making my blood boil with frustration.
“I know! I was there!” I yell. “It doesn’t matter! If you go after him, he will do shit to you that is ten times worse than me getting raped!”
He shakes his head, his lips curled into an arrogant grin.
“I’m not scared of your brother. I understand you are, but I’m not.”
Reaching a high, I throw my water bottle at his head without thinking.
Hitting him right on his forehead.
Score.
“What the fuck?” he bellows incredulously, rubbing the point of impact.
“I’m not scared of my brother. I never have been. I was no match for them together, and yes, at that moment I was terrified, but I refused to be scared of him. I refuse to give him more power over me than he already had in that small window of time. You really think I don’t want revenge? Whatever you’re feeling, trust me, I feel it more. You want to hurt him? Trust me, I want it more. You want him dead? Trust me, I want it more. You say you’re doing this for me. Who do you think you’ll hurt when he hurts you? ME! You’re being a martyr, and I’m not having it. This isn’t about me, it’s a fucking power play. Do whatever the fuck you want, I’m done.”
I turn around and move my feet towards the door, not wanting to hear another word from him. I have no clue where I’m going right now, but I need a minute to blow off some steam. The impotence I feel forms a hard rock in my stomach while I feel my eyes slowly well up, keeping them focused on the front door. I can hear his heavy steps behind me before I feel his arms circle my waist, pulling me back without effort.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” His face is tightened in anger, and his gorgeous green eyes are filled with fury as he pushes me back until my ass lands on one of the bar stools.
“Home, asshole.” I raise my chin up, looking at him like I’m ten feet tall instead of the five-foot-six-inches I actually am while he towers above me.
“You are home,” he groans, dipping his chin to face me.
His fingers dig into my hips, making me whimper at the harsh movement.
“Whatever.”
He just keeps staring at me with a livid glare, as if he’s waiting for me to cower under his touch.
Think again.
Keeping a straight face, I keep my gaze focused on him. A strand of his hair falls on his forehead, and I’m itching to run my hand through his hair.
My heart starts to race under the forceful energy vibrating from him, making it hard for me to not give in. But it’s not anger that has my heart racing.
It’s excitement.
Peering into his lush jade eyes while the expression on his face is livid as fuck doesn’t make me angrier.
If anything, it decreases the fury, replacing it with a burn that goes straight to my lower body.
Finally, he reaches his hand up to cup my face while his expression softens a little.
He presses his forehead against mine, our breath mixing while his other hand tugs me tight against his chest.
“I want to fix it for you. Tell me how to fix it.” His voice is loaded with frustration and emotion.
I let out a deep breath, then I push my hand against his chest.
“Replace it.”
He gives me a confused look.
“Replace what?”
“Replace the memory. Erase the memory. Fix the memory,” I emphasize.
My body heats up while I look into his intense eyes, which are completely fixated on me, like he wants to make sure he understands every word I’m saying. I swallow before I part my lips and take slow breaths, trying to calm myself down when all I really want is to rip off his t-shirt.
He pulls back a little, still homed in on me as he slips a finger beneath the waistline of my jeans.
“That’s what you really want?” A sweet smile appears on his beautiful face.
He gives me a smile that could not only sell a load of shit but would make you happily overpay for it.
A smile that sends heat waves through my body, making my already aching clit throb in agony.
I nod softly, hoping he won’t keep me waiting any longer.
Because fuck me, I may force him if I have to resist him a moment longer.
He reaches up his hand, possessively grabbing the back of my neck, his expression softening even more.
“Okay, Angel,” he agrees before he presses his lips on mine.
It starts off sweet as he softly nibbles my lower lip. But when I dart out my tongue, he lets out an impatient grunt before he pushes his tongue against mine. Eagerly, he starts exploring the recesses of my mouth. His hands stroke the skin on my back as he pushes up the hem of my shirt while I cup his neck to keep him as close as possible.
I feel his fingers move to the curve of my ass, pulling a longing moan from me when he cups my cheeks. He easily lifts me up, wrapping my legs around his waist as if I’m light as air. His hand brushes through my hair, keeping his lips connected with mine, his kisses slow but determined as he walks us to the bedroom. I can feel the bulge in his jeans faintly grazing my wet entrance through my jeans.
Even though the cravings we have both been feeling for the last two months are finally about to get their release, Reign’s touch is gentle.
Affectionate.
Caring.
Safe.
He lays me on the bed, then places himself on top of me. Our lips disconnect as he moves his eyes back and forth, examining my face.
“You sure about this? I can wait.” He lets out a deep, ragged breath. “Fuck, I want you. But I can wait.”
“Reign. I want this. I want you.” My eyes are focused on his, forcing him to listen to every word I say.
“Keep your eyes on me, okay?”
I nod in agreement, then he pulls my shirt over my head, exposing the black lace of my bra. He gets off the bed, taking off his shirt before he pushes down his jeans. He bites his lip, giving me a seductive grin before he lays down next to me on the bed.
His lips move to the crook of my neck, sucking my fair skin, making a shiver run through my body.
“Take off your bra.”
I comply without hesitation, lifting my upper body to take my bra off before I flop back onto the bed. The back of his hand explores the swell of my breasts before he rubs one of my nipples between his thumb and index finger. A small shudder races through my core, and I whimper at his touch. I can feel the wetness increase between my legs, making me pant against his cheek. He moves a bit lower, taking the tip of my breast in his mouth, his tongue soothing the delicate skin. I close my eyes, enjoying the sensation of his lips on my body. He moves his face back to my neck, his breath brushing the shell of my ear.
“You like this, Angel?” he whispers while he gradually peels off my jeans.
Hungry for more, I snap my face towards his then grab his chin, forcing him to kiss me while I wiggle out of my jeans, using my feet before I shove off my panties. I delve into his mouth, wanting more and wanting it now.
His hands move lower, and the longing flutters make it hard to not start bucking against his touch. When he reaches my folds, I suck in a breath, my brows raising as the memory of my molester appears behind my retinas.
Feeling my shock, Reign removes his lips from mine.
“You
okay?”.
His eyes roam my face, looking for any distress while I exhale, trying to calm down.
Fuck. Keep it together, Callie.
I nod my head, giving him my consent as I feel my heart settle down, finding comfort in his attractive face.
“Need to hear you say it, Angel,” he murmurs against my neck.
“Hmm, yes.” I feel his fingers softly stroke through my folds as I keep my gaze focused on him, needing to hold on to his familiar face. His intense stare, combined with the sensation of his fingers exploring my most sensitive parts, makes me relax in a way I haven’t since that horrid night. It’s a feeling I’ve been missing but have been seeking ever since he came storming through that door.
“Good?” he asks when I close my eyes to relish in the scorching sensation between my thighs. I let out a moan in response, then the tips of his fingers start to rub the skin around my entrance. My breath catches, forcing myself to suppress the memories that haunt me at night, trying to focus on the heavenly feeling of his hand on my bare skin.
Finally, he slowly pushes a finger inside me, making my back arch and my heart stop for a second. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding when my gaze locks once again with his intense stare. He stops his movements but keeps his finger in place.
“Sssssh,” he silences me, “it’s me. I’m still here. It’s just me, Angel. You’re okay.”
His face is hovering above mine, patiently waiting for me to give him a sign to keep going while I breathe slowly to subdue the vision of the last time someone entered my body.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” I state firmly. “No, I want this. I want you.” I press a rough kiss to his lips, my action filled with emotion. The tension is gripping my heart, making it hard to breathe, but I want him to go through with it.
I need him to be the one who restores my perception of sex. I need him to make it feel good because I can’t recall it that way anymore.
I need him.
“Okay, keep your eyes on me.”
Catching Fire (The Fire Duet Book 2) Page 9
