Page 9

9

Calista

S hit, shit, shit!

My bare feet hit the wooden porch beyond the front door as I burst into a sprint. I’m too terrified to look back. I have no idea where I’m even going but it can’t be with him.

Why does he care? Oh my god, was he awake last night when I came in? I was so out of it, the pain in my head nearly overwhelming. If I were smart, I would’ve stayed with my parents, but I didn’t want to explain anything to them. Besides, I don’t feel safe there.

Out here the only predator is Ronan, and even if it isn’t smart, he’s the bear I’d prefer over anyone else. Yet maybe I’m not that stupid, because I’m fleeing from him as if I’m prey, and he’s going to eat me alive.

I just can’t lie. He seems to see right through me, a constant reminder that I’m in way over my head.

Rushing past my car, I pump my arms as I break through the tree line.

“Calista!” I hear him call my name, but I just keep running. I don’t want to think about it; he can’t save me from this fate.

I clap a hand over my mouth, breathing heavily against it, desperate to muffle any sound. The snapping of branches and the crunch of leaves beneath me are the only noises breaking the silence, but in my ears, I hear the rush of hot liquid. It feels like I’m bleeding from them, though I know I’m not.

I glance back not seeing anything, but I haven’t gone far enough. I need to get away, figure out what to tell him, and be better at lying.

It feels like I’ve been running for ages, even though it’s only been a few minutes. I don’t hear any footsteps behind me, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t out there.

Once more I look over my shoulder, not seeing anyone pursuing me. Just as I’m about to release a sigh of relief and slow my pace, I crash into solid flesh.

“Oof,” I grunt as the impact completely knocks the breath out of me and I crash to the ground. My head jerks up and it’s not Ronan.

Two men, both dressed in dark blue polos with cargo pants, tower over me. The one I ran into is gathering himself and taking a step to me, his black boots crunching against the grass.

“You alright?” the dark-skinned man says, while the white guy narrows his eyes on me. “How’d you get here?”

“This is private property,” the other says.

I look down at their belts strapped to them, and see a flashlight and radio strapped to it. My guess, they are the security guards that are stationed at the entry point.

Why are they out here…

I’ve never seen them, but I don’t ever see anyone sitting in the station, the gate just opens when I approach.

“I-I’m sorry… I’m a resident.”

“Why are you running? Are you alright?” the gentle security guard asks.

“I doubt she lives here,” the other scoffs, taking an aggressive step and reaching down to grab me.

“Don’t touch me!” I scream and scoot back before finding my footing and standing. “I do, I live at the Sanderson cabin. I’m out just… going for a run.” Jesus, I need to be a better storyteller. All I can think about is saying I’m running away from my roommate, but that might raise too many eyebrows. I don’t want to get Ronan in trouble; he hasn’t done anything wrong. He was just concerned.

But would I even call that concern? Was he, or was he just being nosey?

“Come on, Mike. If she’s telling the truth, we can’t do anything here.”

I want to make a smart-ass remark that they can’t lay a hand on me without plausible evidence of trespassing.

“Where’s your ID?” Mike asks, and I feel like I’ve done something personal to provoke his shitty attitude. He slowly sizes me up, wetting his lips before smirking. “Just came out for a run half-naked. Do you even have panties on?”

“Mike!” his partner snaps. “Please excuse him, Miss.” I don’t respond and cross my arms under my chest while taking a step back. He continues, “Do you have your ID? We need to confirm you live here.”

I shake my head. “No…”

“Then you will need to come with us until we can verify you live here. Trespassing is—”

I cut Mike off. “We can go back to the cabin. I can grab my wallet.”

He takes two quick strides to me and grabs my wrist, dragging me right behind him as he says, “Josh, she’s trespassing. The rich don’t run around like this in the fucking forest.”

“Let go, I swear I’m not—”

“Take your hand off her.” My heart pounds against my chest at the sound of his voice, the thrum of my pulse ringing in my ears.

Both Josh and Mike turn their attention to the source of the voice, and when I do, I see Ronan striding toward us. He doesn’t even look out of breath, but damn he looks furious.

I can’t help but wonder if he regrets hesitating to let me go, because by the time Ronan reaches us, his fist connects hard with Mike's jaw. The impact makes me jump back, and I instinctively cup my hands over my chest, trying to make myself smaller.

“What the fu—”

“She told you to let her go and you idiotically didn’t listen.” He shakes out his hand and raises his fist to swing again when Josh pulls something out of his back pocket. It isn’t a gun, but it looks similar enough to one that I gasp; a taser.

“We had reasonable suspicion and were using appropriate force! You just assaulted an officer!” Josh continues to argue because I’m fairly sure Mike’s jaw is broken.

“I don’t see a badge.” Ronan looks them both up and down quickly. “Under the self-defense law I believed you were taking away this woman—you know what.” He cuts off his statement and takes an angry step toward them, one fist slapping into his open palm. Just as he cracks his knuckles, he seethes, “Go ahead and tase me, I’d love to fuck you up for free.”

I swear to god, my pussy just wept.

Mike is finally finding the ability to stand straight, his hand gripping his entire jaw.

“Please don’t…” I say through a whimper. Even if I believed Ronan could take them both, I don’t want to see him get hurt. “I swear we both reside here. My mother, Jasmine Sanderson, now Byrne, is the current owner.”

Josh's hand trembles as he grips the taser, his eyes fixed on Ronan. I don’t blame him for his fear. Even if they don’t know he’s an ex-con, he looks intimidating in his black tank top and gray sweats. His fully tattooed arms, neck, and upper chest are all on display and it’s clear to all of us, including me, that pain doesn’t scare him.

After a few tense seconds, Josh lowers the weapon and takes a step back. “If we can’t verify that information, we’ll call the police.”

“Tuck your tails and go,” Ronan barks, turning away from them to face me. It’s as if he doesn’t fear any retaliation; maybe he’s hoping for it, giving them his back as if daring them to make a move.

They don’t retaliate, and the sound of their footsteps receding is nearly as loud as my racing heart. Ronan’s stare pierces through me, the rage and irritation deepening the blue of his eyes, more profound than the lake I’d like to drown in right now.

My chin trembles and just as I’m about to speak, he steps closer, invading my space. I clench my teeth and shut my eyes, ready for him to choke me… hurt me.

But all I feel is his body heat. “What the fuck are you doing?” he asks, and I slowly peel my eyes open, raising my chin to meet his impenetrable gaze. He’s so close that I can’t comprehend how we aren’t touching.

I suck in a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

His eyes dart between mine. “You aren’t hungover, are you?”

Shaking my head, I attempt to take a step back, but he raises his hand toward my neck. I see the restraint in his movement as he pauses, inches from clamping his fingers around my throat. Desperation wells in me. I know I shouldn’t, but I crave his touch, even if it’s meant to inflict pain.

“Don’t step away, do not run , Calista . You are lucky those two found you.” He squeezes his hand into a fist. “Why did you run from me?”

Shutting my eyes, I shake my head. I can’t tell him what happened, so I’m going to just lie and hope for the best. “I was embarrassed.”

“Why?” He holds no hesitation to ask.

I drop my gaze, unable to maintain eye contact as I lie. “I got a little rough with a guy last night and things got carried away.” I raise my hand to the back of my neck, rubbing the spot where the bruise is likely forming, feeling the throb beneath my fingertips.

He remains silent, and when I finally glance at him his eyes are distant, as if he’s processing something beyond my words.

“I—”

“You asked for it? Consented to it?” His tone is more neutral now, no longer agitated.

“Yes,” I answer, continuing to play the part. The fucking liar I am and will always be.

Releasing a heavy sigh, he steps away from me and I hate to admit it, but I wish he wouldn’t. “Didn’t take you for a slut.” My eyes widen at his choice word in describing me. “Tell him not the face, at least. There’s a bruise forming at your temple.” The moment I'm raising my hand to touch my cheek, he’s brushing past me. “Put some fucking ice on it,” is the last thing he says as he treks back up toward the cabin.

I cup my face with both hands, hiding behind my fingers as shame washes over me like a weighted blanket. It’s all too much—crushing me beneath the weight of my lies, sins, and the blood yet to be spilled. Soon, I fear I’ll suffocate under it all.

I’m too heavy and will crush everyone around me with my baggage.

The last week has been rough—royally so. Ronan isn’t just silent, he’s actively avoiding me. I didn’t expect much after the mess I created, but the absence of even a simple “good morning” stings.

I had at least hoped he’d notice the change in my body wash. I’m still shocked that all it took was him commanding me to switch from the one I’ve used for years, and I did it without question. He may as well put a fucking collar on me, because if he tells me to do something, I really don’t think I’d argue.

Well, besides telling him the truth about what happened that night. What am I to do? Tell him that my past that was written by someone else is coming to remind me that they are always watching.

Would he protect me if I told him the truth? Ronan owes me nothing, and with being as attracted as I am to him, it’s obviously one-sided.

I drop my head onto the workbench in the center of the gutted kitchen where a large blanket is draped over it to prevent splinters while we go over plans. The contractors were just here, early on a Saturday morning, outlining what the week will entail: painting, rewiring the lighting system, and fixing bad boards and ceiling beams. Then it’s straight into the kitchen renovation.

The door to the garage opens to my left, but I don’t bother standing; Ronan will just sulk back to his room like he’s been doing.

But that’s not what happens. When warmth begins to spread over my arm, I look up to find him hovering over me. All the air in my lungs seems to vanish, and I forget how to breathe.

At least he has a shirt on, but it doesn’t do anything for how his presence makes my heart seek shelter in my stomach. I really shouldn’t be drawn to my step-uncle like this.

I’m about to ask what he wants when he leans against the table, shifting slightly closer to me.

Holy fuck, is he going to kiss me?

When his face is a mere inch from mine, he whispers, “Someone is here.”

The moment those words slip from his thick lips, framed by his five o’clock shadow, I feel like I’ve been punched.

“Sweetheart?”

Oh, FUCK!

The devilish smile that spreads across his face transforms the pit forming in my sternum into a black hole, consuming every organ that keeps me functioning. I left the front door open, and I can hear her footsteps on the wooden patio.

“Hide, hide, please!” I raise my hand to move him, but his eyes widen. Right , don’t touch. “R—”

“Nah-uh…” he whispers.

I feel every bit of me shake. “D-Daddy, please hide. Hide quick.”

His teeth bear with his grin. The way he purrs through “Good girl” has my pussy weeping.

He has no time to sprint back into the garage. Instead, he drops to his knees in front of me, the cloth draped over the bench concealing him from view. Just as my mother steps through the threshold and into the cabin.

“Oh wow, you were not joking around. You really are gutting the place.”

I swallow and force a smile. “Mom… W-what are you doing here?”

She sighs before giving me a somber smile. “Security called, but I also wanted to see my daughter. Is that alright?”

Damn, I meant to call her but I’ve been too distracted. “Oh, right. I meant to call you about that.”

“It’s fine; everything’s cleared up,” she says as she walks deeper into the house, my eyes fixed on her like a hawk. When she turns and leans against the far side of the table, I feel warm fingers gently caressing the back of my calf.

Oh no…

Oh no, no, no!

“Did you have a guy over? They mentioned you had someone with you.”

I lean against the table, my hands gripping the edge as Ronan’s fingers slowly caress my bare leg. It’s getting hotter, and I’m perpetually in shorts. By ignoring his comment about them being too small, I was essentially flipping him off, and now I feel like it’s about to bite me in the ass. Literally.

“Yeah, is that a problem? I’m an adult, Mom.”

She shakes her head, her smile unwavering. “Right, I’m just surprised you’d have one out here with all of this.” As she gestures around, I take a moment to look away from her and glance briefly down at Ronan.

He’s got one leg propped up, elbow resting on the elevated knee, while his other hand reaches around to the back of my thigh, exploring upward.

My gaze returns to my mom. “You could have called…” I pause, because the moment he finds the hem of my shorts, my clit pulses. The warmth in my lower stomach is brutal, and thoughts of him touching me in places I know he can’t has my heart hammering in my throat.

It’s as if he can sense my hope for him to do something forbidden because just as I release a breath, he moves his hand back down.

“It’s dangerous to be here, that’s all I’m getting at.” I’m surprised I can keep up this conversation while feeling so flustered, but my mom seems completely oblivious. “You should’ve let me know so I could have cleaned up.”

She waves her hand. “Pfft, I don’t mind getting a little dirty.”

Yes… that’s the understatement of a lifetime.

“Mind if I stay for a bit?” We don’t usually do this—our relationship is primarily text-based, with the occasional coffee date. I actually don’t hate her, even though I have every right to, and probably should.

The real problem here is Ronan won’t stay hidden for long. If he shows himself or if my mom catches a glimpse of him, I’m finished. Sure, I’m an adult, but the moment she discovers that I’ve been hiding living with my step-uncle here, all hell will break loose. My carefully arranged dominoes will start to topple, and I can’t afford that. I’ve already suffered too much to get to this point.

“Did you have something to talk to me about?” I deflect. “I hate to say that I’m busy, but I kind of am.”

I can see her chewing on the inside of her cheek, a habit that I adopted from her. I’d make them so raw I could barely eat. I’d find myself biting my cheek with each bite of food.

“I understand.” As she sighs, seeming to contemplate, Ronan returns his fingers to my skin. I know exactly what he’s doing, and while it still makes my pussy needy, it’s more sensual. The snake tattoo that wraps around my thigh feels alive as he traces its design with his fingers. I want so badly to look at him, get a glimpse of what his eyes are saying through his silence.

“Did you know your father has a brother?”

The moment the words come out of her lips, Ronan’s fingers slow, but he doesn’t stop completely.

“Uncle Jax?” I play stupid. My dad had three brothers. “Or Thomas? Or—”

“No, sweetheart, your stepfather.”

I shake my head, and she wets her lips before saying, “He was just released from prison. Eamon wants to have dinner for us to meet him.”

Something tells me that it’s going to be a lonely dinner. I can’t imagine that Ronan would accept the invite. He and Eamon don’t seem to have any sort of relationship, because I highly doubt if they did, he would be touching his stepdaughter the way he is.

“That’s nice,” I say with a nervous laugh. “What’s his name? Why haven’t we heard of him before?”

“His name is Ronan. I think your father wasn’t sure where he was, or even that he was still alive.” I stay silent, waiting for her to continue and explain to me what I already know. “His file appeared on my desk a few days before he was released and I let your stepfather know.”

“Did Eamon see him?”

Ronan suddenly pinches my inner thigh, causing me to shuffle my feet slightly as I stifle a yelp that threatens to escape my throat.

“He picked him up the day he got out of prison, but I haven’t had a chance to talk much with him since then. I’ve been busy with a big case, and he’s also been working late hours.” I can see the sadness pulled between her wrinkled brows. “I don’t like it.”

“That Eamon’s working late, or…” I’m not stupid, I know what she’s alluding to.

“No, meeting his brother.”

My chest aches, because I really do not want to have this conversation with her right now. “Mom, let’s chat outside, maybe some—” I’m in the midst of taking a step away, when Ronan hooks his finger around a belt loop of my jean shorts and keeps me close.

It's as if my mom isn't even listening. She leans forward onto the table, resting her face in her hands. “He killed someone, Cal, and your father wants to bring him into our home.”

My attempt at not physically shaking doesn’t work, and I know he can see it; feel it. He tugs harder on my shorts, prompting me to take an awkward step forward, straddling his legs as I adjust my position. With a jerk, I’m forced to bend at my hips and lean over the table.

“What did he do?” I ask shakily. His face is right at my thighs, and to distract myself, I reach out to take one of my mom’s hands away. “Murder is very broad.”

I get two different responses from that.

One, my mom lifts her head up and looks at me like I’ve gone fucking insane. And two, Ronan quite literally presses his face between my thighs, and draws his chin up so his nose brushes against my slit.

I’m going to die. My heart pounds against its cage, each beat a desperate warning, and I’m convinced it will give out any moment now.

“Cal, please, he took someone’s life. There is no degree at which—”

“What about self-defense?” I cut her off, now more than ever needing to keep myself talking or else I’ll moan instead as his hand comes to grab my thigh, his thumb brushing dangerously close to the seams of my panties under my shorts. The thought of grabbing onto his hair and holding him in place while I grind against him, just to get some friction against my clit for a little relief, has me soaking my panties. “You’re a lawyer, Mom. I’m not going to go about this with you. Maybe he has changed.”

I highly doubt that, though. I’ve seen Ronan’s violence and have no doubt he would kill again if given the right motivation. That being said, it doesn’t make him a bad person. Until someone tells me that he slit a woman’s throat for disobeying him, I’m going to choose to believe it wasn’t an act of impulse.

“I didn’t look too much into the case, sweetheart, something about a bar fight. I’m sure you can google it. It wasn’t his first time in prison either, he was there before.”

I roll my eyes, both at her prudishness and at Ronan, who leans back, creating space between us. Did I say something wrong? Had I not said enough to defend him?

Holy shit. Am I that desperate for him to keep touching me that I’m internally whining with him leaning away? I think I was hoping he’d tell me I was a good girl for defending him. I’m seriously sick in the head.

“So… dinner.” I pull our conversation along. “When?”

“Friday night.” She stands up and begins walking around the table.

“Wait!” I step away from Ronan, and this time he doesn’t resist. “It’s dangerous over on this side, lots of nails. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

“Will you come?” She wraps her arm around my shoulder, and I mirror her around the waist.

I swallow. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“I’ll need your support. Thank you, Cal. I’m not too interested in meeting his brother, but having you there will help.”

She’s genuinely concerned. Ronan can’t be that bad… can he?

I glance over my shoulder to see him rising, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off tension. Our eyes lock, but instead of a smile, I’m met with that same cold, unyielding gaze—one that ignites a desire deep within me. One I know I should run from, not want to drown in.

They say you attract what you are.

Whether it's him, the monster, drawing me in, or me, the darkness, pulling him toward me… I can't say.