Page 16

THE WARDEN

I fiddled with the bathroom lock, my fingers working on the picks with practiced ease, while my ears stayed tuned to any sound from the couch.

I could practically feel my brother’s focused energy from here as he pawed through the files he’d stolen from Hallowstone Adoption Agency.

Any moment now, he could come stomping in, fists clenched, ready to catch me in the act.

Ava could keep pretending all she wanted—that Ciaran was the one for her, that he completed her, that he was enough.

She could fuck him and lie next to him all she wanted, but she was lying about how he satisfied her. How he made her whole.

But I knew better. I’d been studying her, learning her, becoming an expert in everything Ava McKinsey since the day we met. I knew her better than she knew herself, every flicker of emotion in her eyes, every catch in her voice.

She couldn’t hide from me—not really .

Her connection with my brother might have been intense, but it was fragile. Thin and shallow, like the delicate crust of ice over a winter lake. One wrong move, and it would shatter.

I couldn’t blame her for being with him. It was only natural, after all, for her to be drawn to the rush of a falling-star love—bright, breathtaking, but destined to burn out before it could leave a mark.

I had Eamon.

She could have Ciaran.

He would give her something I couldn’t. Perspective. Contrast. The flare of kindling against the unrelenting fury of a wildfire.

Because that’s what Ava and I were. Wildfire.

I remembered watching her last night, glorious as she rode him, her breasts gleaming with sweat, her mouth parted, but her eyes hungry and searching.

Ciaran had given her everything—his sweat, his tears, his anger, his lust, his heart, his cock, his lips, his every last ounce of will—and it hadn’t been enough.

Ava searched out among the shadows for the missing piece and found it: me .

Need overwhelmed me and for a moment I had to lean my damp forehead against the wood of the door to catch my breath.

The stream of water in the shower stopped, the faint squeak of the handle twisting echoing in the otherwise silent room. I listened intently, hearing wet feet padding softly across the tiles, a towel pulled from the rack, followed by a quiet, almost contented sigh.

The lock slid open under my picks—a soft, inviting click— and I seized the moment, slipping inside the bathroom.

Closing it silently behind me, I pressed my back against the wood, the oppressive humidity from the steam wrapping around me like a veil, thick with the scent of her jasmine shampoo.

My heartbeat thundered, but I forced myself to stay still, concealed by the fogged-up mirrors and the haze of heat.

Ava hadn’t noticed me yet.

In front of the mirror, completely blurred by condensation, Ava tucked the towel around her chest, her hands tucking the edges into place.

Her hair, dark and glistening like raven feathers, clung to her shoulders, droplets trailing down her skin.

It was captivating. Hypnotizing. I was half convinced that if I reached out to grab a fistful of it, it would flutter against my fingers.

I stepped forward, deliberate and silent, moving through the steamy haze until I stood just behind her.

She still didn’t sense me. Not yet. The old Ava would have. She would have felt me before I even breached the room.

She had grown careless. Soft. Too quick to unlearn the instincts I helped her hone at Blackthorn. Too coddled by my brother’s suffocating protectiveness.

The thought simmered in my chest as I slipped my arms around her waist, pulling her back against me in one fluid motion.

She stiffened briefly, startled, but it didn’t last. Her body softened almost immediately, melting into my embrace with a sigh that sent a rush of satisfaction through me.

Her hands found my wrists, clasping them tightly as if to keep me close, and my lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile against the damp curve of her shoulder.

She gasped when I pressed my erection against her ass.

“Shhh,” I whispered into her ear as I eased her towel open.

Her fingertips fluttered against my hand as if she considered stopping me, but the twitch of my cock made her murmur low in her throat and the towel fell to the floor with a dull flop.

Then she was naked and wet.

Her bare body was hot against mine, her pink nipples hard, her breasts already heaving as she rocked her ass against my cock.

Perhaps she thought I was Ciaran.

Or perhaps deep down she realized it was me and needed me anyway.

I’d only let her keep making excuses for so long.

But right now, I didn’t care which twin she thought I was.

She was mine .

I palmed her breasts and she melted into my touch, head falling back to rest against my chest, lashes fluttering closed. Her hair soaked through my shirt and the fragrance of her jasmine shampoo filled my nostrils.

God, I wanted to drown in her, choke on all she had to give me with her thighs straddling my face.

Ava whimpered as I smoothed my palm over her soft belly and between her legs.

She used her fingers over mine to guide me toward her wet folds and I fought back a groan at the wetness of her.

The warmth of her .

I slid my fingers between her folds, relishing the slick heat.

Ava’s breath hitched as I circled her clit with agonizing slowness. Her hips rocked against my hand, seeking more friction, more pressure.

I obliged, increasing my pace as I captured her earlobe between my teeth.

My free hand kneaded her breast, rolling the taut nipple between my fingers.

Ava’s hushed moans filled the steamy air. Because I knew exactly how to touch her, how to coax those sweet sounds from her lips.

I dipped two fingers inside her, curling them to stroke that spot that made her legs tremble. Her inner walls clenched around me, hot and tight. I pumped my fingers in and out, building a steady rhythm as I rubbed circles on her clit with my thumb.

Ava’s hips bucked against my hand, begging for more. I pressed my lips to her neck, tasting the lingering droplets of water on her skin. My teeth grazed her pulse point as I increased the pace of my fingers.

I’d stopped listening for Ciaran. He didn’t exist in this moment. Nothing did except her beautiful body in my hands.

“Fuck,” I murmured against her ear, “you feel so good, hummingbird.”

Ava froze, her entire body going rigid even as I kept working her pussy. She whipped her head to mine over her shoulder, her eyes widening in shock as they met mine.

“Ty,” she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. “What the fuck? ”

She pushed at my hands, but I ignored her weak protests because her pussy clenched my fingers as if refusing to let me go. I held her firmly against me. My fingers never stopped their relentless assault on her swollen cunt.

“Keep it down.” He chuckled in my ear. “Or maybe you want my brother to come in and see you being finger-fucked raw by me?”

Wetness gushed from her, coating my hand, her body betraying her even as she tried to break free out of some misguided sense of loyalty.

“No,” she whimpered, her voice cracking. “Ty, stop. We can’t—”

But her protests were punctuated by breathy moans as her hips continued to rock against my hand.

I could feel the tremors building in her thighs, the way her inner walls fluttered around my fingers. She was close, teetering on the edge of coming.

“Fight it all you want,” I growled, nipping and sucking at her neck, marking her. “But you love being pinned down by me and forced to come.”

My other hand slipped up to her throat, not enough to choke her, but enough to remind her who was in control.

“The only choice you have, hummingbird,” I said roughly, grinding my cock against her ass, “is whether you keep quiet so your little boyfie doesn’t hear or you scream my fucking name.”

Ava squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking from the corners as she battled against the orgasm.

I felt the moment she gave in. The moment she embraced the inevitable.

“Fuck you,” she whispered under her breath .

She bucked her hips wildly against my hand as I drove my fingers deeper, faster. I could feel her pussy clenching rhythmically, her climax building to a crescendo.

“Good girl,” I purred, my lips brushing her ear. “Come for me , Ava.”

A strangled cry escaped her throat as the dam finally broke. Her entire body shuddered violently, and I held her tightly against me as she came apart, my fingers drawing out every single last drop.

Ava’s legs gave out, but I supported her weight easily, her pussy fluttering coming to a stop around my fingers, coating them in a fresh flood of her honey.

I slowly withdrew my hand, bringing my glistening fingers to my lips. The sweet musky taste of her exploded on my tongue as I licked them clean, my cock hardening to the point of pain as I savored every drop.

Ava sagged against me, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. I could feel the rapid pounding of her heart, the tremors still running through her body. Her skin was flushed, a rosy hue spreading down her neck and chest.

“Who’s the better brother now?” I murmured, leaving one last love bite on her neck.

Ava’s body went rigid, her muscles tensing beneath my touch. In a sudden burst of strength, she shoved me away, hard enough that I stumbled back a step.

Her eyes blazed with fury as she whirled to face me, her chest heaving with each ragged breath.

“Get out,” she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. “Get the fuck out, Ty.”

I smirked, reaching for her again, but she slapped my hand away. The sharp crack echoed in the steamy bathroom.

“Don’t touch me,” Ava snarled, snatching her towel from the floor and wrapping it tightly around herself. Her knuckles were white as she clutched the fabric, as if it could shield her from what had just transpired.

I could see the war of emotions playing across her face—anger, shame, confusion, and beneath it all, a flicker of desire she couldn’t quite extinguish.

I took a step closer, backing her against the sink.

“You don’t mean that,” I murmured, reaching out to brush a damp strand of hair from her face.

Ava flinched but didn’t pull away.

“ You leaned into my touch,” I continued. “ You tugged my hand to your pussy.”

“I thought you were Ciaran.” She glared at me. “My boyfriend .”

I snorted. “Ava, if you had a twin, I’d never confuse you. Even if I was fucking blind and deaf.”

“You are insane,” she hissed, tightening her towel around her.

I hummed under my breath as I adjusted the bulge in my pants. “Really? It wasn’t your boyfriend whose eyes you couldn’t tear away from when you were getting fucked.”

“Fuck you,” she said, her cheeks flaring red. “That didn’t mean anything.”

I shrugged. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Get out .” Ava turned toward the fogged-up mirror and snatched up her hairbrush and yanked it through her hair. When her towel slipped, she hurried to pull it back into place .

“It’s not like I haven’t seen it all,” I said, leaning against the wall opposite her and crossing my arms over my chest. “Or had my fingers all over it, all in it.”

Her hands flinched, but I kept going.

“My tongue knows every inch of you. I’ve licked you clean of anyone but me. I’ve come inside of you, Ava. Your mouth, your pussy, and your ass. I’ve possessed you, claimed you.”

The hairbrush clattered to the counter and I wasn’t sure whether she’d thrown it down in anger or whether it had slipped from her damp fingers at my words.

I was fine with either. I could use either; I could be her punching bag or I could be her forbidden fruit.

Ava snatched her bottle of lotion and began to rub it onto her arms, her movements sharp and jerky.

She glanced back at me over her bare shoulder. “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m with Ciaran?”

“Just once,” I answered, “if you really meant it.”

Ava laughed bitterly as she moved her hands to her shoulders. “I’ve told you more than once.”

“I’ve not once believed you,” I said in a low, dark voice.

Ava’s hands froze around her neck, her back to me, the steamy mirror hiding her expression from me.

But I could imagine the fear which played like a shadow across her face. I knew without touching her that she’d broken out in a cold sweat. Increased pulse. Erratic. Uncontrollable. She knew I spoke the fucking truth.

She began to massage the lotion into her skin again. She wanted to continue to pretend.

I wouldn’t allow that for much longer.

“You need to respect my decision,” Ava said, lifting one foot, then the other to the side of the bathtub so she could lotion her legs.

She did her best to speak evenly as she said, “Yes, we had a connection back at the mansion. But I was your prisoner . You were drugging me. You touched me for hours. Of course I came for you. Of course I felt… something. But I love him.”

“You feel more than something for me, hummingbird,” I said through gritted teeth, my voice rising.

Ava’s eyes darted to the bathroom door, the thin barrier between us and Ciaran, then to mine in warning.

My cock responded to that look. I loved that fire. Her strength. Her sass.

She wasn’t some helpless damsel waiting for rescue. She was a force to be reckoned with—a bad bitch who saved herself, who faced the darkness head-on and won. With me alongside her always, of course.

“Whatever existed at Blackthorn, it’s over,” Ava said, her voice steady as she rose to her feet, the towel clutched firmly around her.

I stepped in front of her, the sole of my boots brushing the outside of her bare toes, forcing her to face me. Her proximity was intoxicating, her scent of damp skin and faint jasmine invading me.

“Look into my eyes and tell me you don’t feel anything for me,” I said, my voice low and steady, though inside, I was anything but.

Ava swallowed hard, her throat working painfully. She lifted her chin, her gaze meeting mine with something that felt like courage battling guilt. Her hesitation was the crack in the dam I needed .

“Tell me you don’t feel anything,” I pressed, softer now, more insistent, “and I’ll leave. I’ll leave you alone… forever.”

Her lips parted, and she swayed slightly on her feet, as if the weight of my words unsteadied her.

But she didn’t move back. Didn’t retreat. Ava never did. That was part of why I couldn’t stay away.

She wavered on the precipice, and I leaned closer, relentless.

I never promised her comfort or sunshine and roses. But that’s also not what Ava needed.

My love was consuming, raw, and unapologetically real. The kind of love that hurt but left her stronger, forged in its fire.

“I… I feel nothing,” she said, her voice fragile, breaking like glass.

But her eyes betrayed her before the words had fully left her lips. They darted to my mouth, lingering there, her breath shallow and rapid.

“Liar,” I murmured, leaning down, close enough to feel the heat of her exhale against my skin.

“I’m not… lying,” she stammered, but her voice wavered, thin and uneven.

Her breaths came in small gasps, shallow and desperate, like she was trying to pull air from a vacuum. Her lips, slick and parted, quivered as I held her in my gaze.

“Let me prove it to you,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper before I closed the space between us.

The moment my lips claimed hers, a soft, startled sound escaped her throat.

She pressed her palms against my chest in a futile attempt to push me away, but her strength faltered almost instantly. She melted into me, her resistance crumbling as her hands slid upward, tangling in my hair, gripping my shoulders, pulling me closer as though she couldn’t bear the space between us.

Her surrender was my victory, but it felt less like conquering and more like finding a missing piece of myself.

Ava wasn’t just yielding; she was meeting me. Consuming me as I consumed her, the fire between us burning too bright to be ignored, too wild to be tamed, too deep to be put out.

I hummed against her lips. “This doesn’t feel like nothing , hummingbird.”

“Ava!” Ciaran’s voice cut through the thick air, sharp and urgent. “I found something.”

“Fuck.” Ava shoved me back, her palms pressing against my chest with more force than I expected.

I let her push me, the steam billowing between us like a veil, but it couldn’t hide the guilt etched across her face.

“Coming!” she yelled, her tone singsong, but when her glare snapped back to me, it was icy and cutting. “ Don’t do that again.”

I tilted my head, a smirk tugging at my lips despite the heat of the moment. “Why? Afraid you can’t say no?”

She let out a noise of pure frustration, a mix of anger and something else—something raw and unspoken.

Without another word, she shoulder-barged me, her wet skin brushing mine as she stormed past, the faint scent of her still clinging to the air, her towel clung precariously to her body.

I leaned against the counter, watching her go, the corner of my mouth curving further. Her retreat only left me hungrier, more determined. Whatever lines she thought existed between us had long since blurred.

But this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

I let out a sigh, tamping down my desire and willing my erection to fade before following out after her.

I slipped out of the bathroom, my bare feet making no sound against the hardwood floor as I walked down the short hallway toward the living room. The muffled hum of Ciaran’s computer monitor was the only thing I could hear—until I froze.

There she was. Ava. Sitting on his lap.

Ciaran lounged back on the couch like a king on his throne, one arm casually around her waist. His keyboard was tossed to the side, forgotten, and his other hand—fuck—his other hand was up her towel.

Ava giggled, a soft, breathless sound, and shoved at his hand, though not hard enough to make him stop. The sound cut into me, sharp and unforgiving, carving a hollow ache in my chest.

I would wait forever for Ava to realize she was mine, but watching her with my brother—with the wrong brother—was killing me.

Ciaran noticed me first, his sharp blue eyes narrowing.

“Where have you been?” he asked, his tone laced with suspicion.

I realized belatedly that my hair was still damp from the bathroom steam and there were wet patches from Ava’s hair and body on my shirt.

“What have you got?” I said, ignoring his question and striding toward them like I didn’t just have my hand right where his was not thirty seconds ago .

Ava shifted in his lap, her posture suddenly tense. Her cheeks flushed pink as she shoved at Ciaran’s hand again, more forcefully this time.

He smirked, withdrawing his hand, but the smugness in his expression made my fists curl.

She slid off his lap, settling to his side so he could reclaim his keyboard. Her towel rode up slightly, exposing more of her creamy thigh than I could handle, and I felt the fire of jealousy burn hotter.

She avoided my gaze as I settled onto the couch beside her, deliberately brushing my shoulder against her damp one.

Her skin was warm from the shower, her scent sweet and intoxicating. And her nearness sent blood rushing to my dick again.

I brushed my finger along the side of her exposed thigh, out of Ciaran’s line of sight.

She shot a glare at me, yanking her towel down her thigh and pulling it tighter around her as if it could shield her from the tension crackling between us.

I lifted an eyebrow and rubbed a finger along my pulse point.

Her cheeks flamed red and she pulled her hair down around her neck to cover the spot where I’d marked her with my teeth.

I smirked to myself, reveling in my brand on her.

My teeth marks on her skin.

My fingers coated in her juices.

Her pussy sated from my attention.

The voice inside my head was almost feral. Mine .

Ava was making me crazy, turning me into a gentleman savage.

Ciaran seemed oblivious, his attention back on the screen as he clicked through files.

“Look what I found,” he said, his tone triumphant.

For now, I shoved aside my wild thoughts.

Ava leaned forward, her interest piqued. “You found the owners of Hallowstone?”

“Not quite, but something else…” He pulled up a document on the screen, the bold header reading Donation Receipt.

The string of zeroes in the donation figure was staggering.

He clicked through to another receipt and then another. Each was nearly identical. Each bore the same donor name.

“The Darkmoor Alumni Association,” I read.

Ava gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Ebony has a photo of the board on her study desk.”

Her gaze darted between Ciaran and me, realization dawning in her wide eyes. Her voice wavered as she whispered, “Cormac’s father, the dean, the police chief…”

Ciaran pulled up the alumni association’s website. On the About page was a black-and-white photograph of the Board of Directors that matched Ava’s memory.

There they were next to Ava’s adopted mother, the three men in crisp suits, their smiles too knowing, too polished.

Cormac Foley Senior. Dean McCarthy. Commissioner O’Neill.

“One of them must be working for the Sochai,” Ciaran said, his voice tight with certainty.

“Or,” I said, as my stomach dropped into a pit, “ all of them.”