Page 82 of Blood and Thorns

I saw him make Lang feel less than because he wasn’t blood, which was why we left as soon as I turned eighteen, taking Caden with us.

My uncle added, “I don’t know what to tell you. I was assured she was dead.”

“You told us you dealt with it personally,” Caden growled. “Which is it, Dad?”

He didn’t answer, and a fresh wave of rage swept over me. I took a step forward, and Alexander instinctively stepped back, much to his annoyance.

“Sebastian, she murdered my sister. My nephews. If I knew she was still alive, I would’ve dealt with it. The fact she’s still out there while my sister’s…” He cleared his throat, an uncharacteristic bit of emotion shadowing his words. “I hired only the best, but clearly I failed.”

I believed him, but that didn’t ease any of the tension that crawled and buzzed beneath my skin like a thousand wasps. “Being blood doesn’t exonerate you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Alexander said, jaw tightened, shame creeping in just enough to sour his anger. “Blood is everything. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have gone through hell to get you back.”

“That’s called guilt,” Langdon signed, but neither I nor Caden bothered to translate.

“You’re going to find her,” Alexander demanded rather than asked, his gaze direct. “Make sure it fucking hurts. Make Margot pay for what she did to our family.”

“I’ll drive you back.” Caden pulled on his shirt, leaving the buttons open. He nodded his goodbye, but I’d already turned to Langdon.

“Go home,” I snapped. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten you’ve brought Ara into this. Stay away from her.”

Langdon smirked, purposely pushing me to try and play the situation for his entertainment. It was how he held control of his reality.

I didn’t wait for him to respond, not when I was already storming towards the lift.

Miles should not be in my office, and his eyes widened when I walked in to find him scowling down at Arabella, and her glaring at him in return. I gestured my head to the door, dismissing him before I settled my attention back on her. She was curled up in my chair, watching the monitor with my reading pen clenched in her hand like a weapon.

“Miles giving you trouble?”

She released the pen, slipping from the seat slowly as if not to set me off. “He’s just opinionated.” She carefully moved around the desk while I circled it, her back rigid.

My eyes fell to the screen to find she’d been watching the security camera. “You been spying on me,belle?”

She didn’t bother to deny it. “Why did you break his finger?”

“Because he said something I didn’t like.” Her voicewashed over me like a drug, calming the fury that vibrated my soul.

“You’re angry,” she commented, pressing herself into the corner.

I placed my palms flat to the wall, caging her in. Rather than recoil, she lifted her chin, never looking away.

“Read to me,” I demanded,needingto hear her voice calm the demons that still howled for me to destroy. To become the man my father had trained me to be.

I’d never needed anyone before, and I hated this vulnerability with a fury I couldn’t name. But I still craved her voice, her soft words and delicate laughs. She quieted the noise.

Arabella frowned, seeming confused by my demand. “You want me to read to you?”

There was a rush at having her pressed against the wall, my cock immediately waking up as I pressed my lower half against hers. A flush darkened her cheeks as she felt my reaction.

“There’s… there’s nothing to read,” she stammered.

I gently cupped her throat, wanting to feel it move. “Make it up.”

She laughed, and I was ready to drown in the sound. “I don’t know what to say.”

Closing my eyes, I allowed her voice to wash over me, even as phantom slices split the skin of my back.

Il ne m'a pas laissé le choix.