Page 12 of Not Her Day to Die (Star-Crossed #2)

W hat can I say to a man that has tried to keep me alive for years to persuade him that it is perfectly fine if I use myself as bait?

The idea sounds stupider laid out like that, but I know with certainty it is the only way Darius will come out of this unscathed. Nobody else cares if he is collateral. It is up to us to bring him home.

Axel and Grayson will be slaughtered on sight.

But me? Well, like Grayson said, the video Darius made garnered me fame. Surely, even the Thornes aren’t stupid enough to kill me so shortly after that.

“Axel?” I call out, but he doesn’t answer.

Walking through their house, I find my way to the stairs. There still isn’t any sign of Axel.

The house’s lights aren’t on, but the AC is running and the cool air leaves goosebumps across my skin.

Slowly I make my way up the stairs. “Axel?” I call out again.

He still doesn’t answer me.

Either he’s ignoring me or he isn’t here anymore. Except the purple light is still present, leading me further inside the house.

Annoyance and anxiety intertwine in my chest, rising to my throat, constricting my airway.

Maybe he’s just being an asshole .

But surely Axel would know better than to fuck with me like this. After everything we have gone through.

“Axel?” I’m at his bedroom door now, the light shimmers in the center of it, pulsating. I raise my hand to it, but pause.

I’ve never actually been in his room before.

Instead of knocking, I twist the handle and push the door in. I don’t see Axel but the purple is no longer in front of me.

My attention flashes around the dark room. My breath stutters and I walk further inside in a trance.

One of the walls is covered in pictures.

Of me.

But they’re not all recent; some were taken while Axel was in prison, some before that, some after. Different angles, different days, different outfits. Some I remember being taken, but others are candid, from a distance.

So distracted by the sight, I don’t hear him until the hands have made their way around my throat and mouth.

One covers my mouth, the other squeezes my throat, tugging me back into a man’s chest.

My heart pounds in my chest, my breath quickens. The goosebumps once caused by the cold are from something else entirely now.

The man tugs me backwards, towards the bed.

“This is what it would be like,” he whispers in my ear. “At the mercy of others. Unable to protect yourself.”

Axel shoves me down onto the bed and I catch myself on my hands and knees.

I look back at him, my eyelids are hooded, my tongue lashes out to wet my lips. “Axel,” I murmur his name.

Axel growls, “You aren’t supposed to like this! ”

That’s what it is. Some base primal part of myself is enjoying this. The way he takes complete control, how he handles me with reckless abandon. He treats me as an equal, as stronger than I am. It’s why I have always been drawn to Axel. He frees a part of myself I don’t want to admit I have.

He makes me want to run wild, to just live in every moment as if it were my last.

The irony isn’t lost on me.

I roll over onto my back and then he’s there again. Jumping on top of me, pinning me to the bed, pressing me down into the mattress.

His typical leather has been replaced with cotton.

Cotton shirt.

Cotton boxers.

He thrusts his hips into me, his hard cock rubs against me. I am acutely aware of the thin layers that separate us. How my skin is on fire. My nerves alight.

Before I was shot, I was already falling into the O’Brien brothers. I was already in love with them all.

They were already a part of my broken heart.

But this is different.

Grayson and me? There is a line that I can recognize between us, it keeps me from pushing him too far.

But Axel is different. Axel is the first that found me in this timeline. The first to leave his mark. The first to wrap me up into him. To twist me to the point of discomfort. To bring me back to life.

My memory splices between Grayson’s words and when I was on the rooftop with Axel.

Has it been Axel all along? Is he the reason we all opened ourselves to each other?

“What are you thinking?” Axel grumbles, his eyes narrowing in distrust. “If you think there is anything you can do to convince me you aren’t a Little Lamb, that you can handle the shit this would put you through, then you are wron–"

Again I take a page from Axel himself: I don’t think.

My hands reach up, burrowing my fingers into his wet hair.

He must have showered before I came up here.

I tug him down to me, and for his part, he doesn’t fight me.

And then we are kissing. His lips are harsh and cruel. They leave no space for me, so I make room.

Shoving my tongue into his mouth, I battle against him. I put as much of my emotions, my feelings into the kiss, and as I do, I roll my hips upwards against his length.

For months, Axel and I have been dancing.

Dancing around the truth.

Dancing around our pain.

Dancing around our feelings.

Dancing around the inevitable.

This. This is the inevitable.

The purple line between us is still ever present, but I do my best to block it out, how it brightens the longer we kiss. Even through my eyelids I can see it, but I focus on Axel instead.

On how his body relaxes against mine, on how even freshly showered he smells like leather, on the warmth of his skin. The way it ignites my belly to connect and reestablish the feelings we both have. The ones that have been riding me for months.

The ones I’m finally following.

Axel pulls away first, panting . He hovers above me. “You think this is enough? To prove you’re some tough girl? ”

Axel moves one of his hands to my throat, he applies just a bit of pressure, watching my eyes, my face, my reaction.

I groan. I can’t help myself. It feels good . His fingers are squeezing the sides of my neck, I can still breathe, but it’s restricted. My head feels lighter. It’s easier to not overthink when all of my effort is put into allowing air in and out of my lungs.

I reach up and I see the satisfaction on his face. He thinks he’s won. But then my fingers wrap around his much larger hand, applying more pressure.

My hips undulate up and into his length. I need the friction, I need to feel him.

I want more.

I am going to have more.

“Axel,” I moan.

“You stupid.” Thrust “Idiot.” Thrust. “Girl.” Thrust.

Even with the material between us, I can feel his length, I can almost imagine what it would be like.

I haven’t had sex since Tripp.

The thought is a glass of liquid nitrogen being poured over me. It is so cold it hurts, I freeze instantly.

It’s only been months since he died. I can’t do this to him.

Except…

Even as that thought forms, it is quickly discarded. It hasn’t been months. It’s been years. I may not remember all the time in the loops, but my subconscious does, my body does, my soul does.

And it is all of that which propels me forward.

I need to do this. For myself.

I want to do this .

Axel is unaware of the mental turmoil I have just jumped through, but the pressure loosens on my neck, his fingers unwrapping until just his thumb remains. It covers the spot where Grayson left his mark.

“Sunday.” Axel stares down at me. “You can stop this, even if we get half-past the point, you can still stop this. You understand?”

I jerk my head.

“No, say you understand,” Axel demands.

“I understand.”

His eyes darken, his pupils are dilated and swirling in promise. “You don’t.” He lunges.

His mouth latches onto the other side of my neck. Where Grayson was gentle, Axel is rough, carnal .

His teeth dig into the skin there, his tongue lashing out to soften the bite.

My belly is molten, my core throbs. It pulsates every time his tongue moves. It isn’t long before I am squirming underneath him, desperate for relief.

“Axel, please. I need more.”

“Fuck!” He releases my neck and then he’s shoving up my shirt, maneuvering it off of me.

I’m bare underneath and with gravity’s help my breasts fall free, they are just on the cusp of too large, but I ignore that as Axel shifts his attention to them. His fingers kneed the nipple on one.

“Your mouth,” I beg. Ever since he sucked on them before, I have been craving for him to do it again.

He chuckles but acquiesces. His tongue lashes out, licking across my nipple and it pebbles up for him. He breathes on it a few times, his hot breath at odds with the cool air .

I am enraptured. He has wrapped me up in him so fast and quick, as if he knows exactly how.

Except they haven’t gone this far with me before, not in any of the previous timelines. When I asked all my questions that was one they answered easily–that I had kissed Axel and Darius but nothing more, but Grayson and I had never kissed before this one.

All the changes that perhaps led to them breaking the cycle.

The theory sloshes around my muddled mind, but then his mouth opens, and he is sucking and biting on my nipple while his hand plays with the other.

My body tenses, coils, I am beginning to tip-toe to an edge I have not gone before. I have come. But this is different, this is a full body pleasure. It doesn’t feel like I am trying to find a finish line, instead I am literally along for the ride.

He hums against my nipple. I try to grab hold of him, to give him pleasure, but I can’t reach.

Instead, I am at his mercy as he continues his assault. My mind empties, and I let myself live on this cusp of reality and ethereal.

On pleasure and pain.

And then Axel is releasing me, he is taking off his own shirt and boxers now and while he does, I rid myself of my shorts.

His attention follows mine, but he doesn’t say anything, simply allows me to take him in.

My eyes land on his chest, on the rippled muscles, the scars, specifically the two thick puckered ones across his abdomen.

The ones he never really told me how he got. But I can guess. Axel isn’t a Thorne. When he was thrown into prison, it wouldn’t surprise me if he was tortured every day, if they tried to kill him .