Page 23

I wake up to sunlight streaming through the windows, my head pounding and my stomach churning. Sitting up, I feel the nausea intensify. I hurriedly jump out of bed and sprint to the bathroom, just in time before the alcohol makes a reappearance. My body convulses as bile flows, my stomach clenched. This is going to be a long day.

The shower steam clears my sinuses and eases the ache in my muscles under the hot water. I feel slightly better as I descend the stairs, but the smell of breakfast wafts up to meet me, triggering a fresh wave of queasiness.

Kyla and Griffen are already seated at the kitchen table, while Rosa, busy at the stove, has set an extra plate for me.

“Rory, come eat,” Rosa calls, her cheerful tone at odds with my mood.

I sit, and she places a plate loaded with bacon, eggs, toast, and hashbrowns before me. She’s also eager for me to try the oat milk.

“So you’re the reason all that shit’s in the fridge,” Griffen teases, eyeing the oat milk with disdain. “I feel my testosterone levels dropping just looking at it.”

“Good,” I retort, pouring some oat milk into my coffee. Kyla’s laughter fills the room, her black hair a wild mess as she lounges in one of Griffen’s t-shirts. Looks like they had a fun night.

“Fucking oat milk,” Griffen mutters through a mouthful of bacon. “It’s not real milk. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’m allergic to dairy,” I retort, rolling my eyes.

“Well, that’s a mood killer.” He shoves a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

Kyla, with a glint of mischief in her eyes, suddenly bursts out, “I reserved a VIP section at Pulse tonight. You two are coming with me.”

“Nope. Absolutely not,” I reply, perhaps too quickly. “No more Pulse. Ever.”

“Oh, come on, Rory! It’ll be fun!” Kyla drapes her arms around my shoulders, giving me a pleading pout. “Pretty please?”

“How can I resist those dimples?” I smile, and she lights up.

“Griffen?” She turns her gaze to him, who’s still devouring his breakfast.

“Sure,” he mumbles, barely looking up.

“Yes! We can get dressed up and dance the night away,” she squeals. “It’ll be amazing, I promise.”

“If you say so,” I murmur, though I’m secretly tempted. Another drunken night might just be what I need.

After breakfast, the nausea gradually subsides. I trudge back upstairs and collapse onto the bed, hoping to rid myself of the hangover’s lingering effects. The day drifts by in a haze of relaxation until it’s time to prepare for the night.

Kyla helps me select a white two-piece set—a mini skirt paired with a crop top. My makeup is bold, and my hair falls straight down my back. I opt for simple jewelry and strappy sandals, completing the look. Kyla is wearing a skin-tight black dress and heels that elongate her already endless legs.

Griffen’s voice booms from downstairs, and we rush down, giggling. He’s in a casual button-down and dark jeans, his brown hair perfectly, annoyingly tousled. We pile into his SUV, warm evening air streaming through the open windows as the city blurs past.

Pulse is alive when we arrive, loud bass pounding through its walls. The VIP section buzzes with Sovereign and Servants Kyla invited.

Stepping up to our balcony, which overlooks the main dance floor, I scan the crowd below.

“You look good enough to eat, little siren.” Axe’s deep voice makes my stomach drop.

I whirl, and his dark eyes hook me, forcing the air from my lungs. My brain blanks. I stumble back instinctively, hitting the cold steel of the balcony rail.

He closes the gap, his body just inches from mine.

“Miss me?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate.” He smirks.

The scent of his musky cologne fills the air, suffocating my lungs. He presses his body against mine, his hands sliding around my waist, pulling me closer. My breath hitches, and heat floods my face.

“Because I missed you.”

“Don’t,” I manage, shoving at his chest, but he doesn’t budge.

My heart pounds erratically, my mind spinning. Anger and fear collide, leaving me stuck between fight or flight.

“Don’t what?” he murmurs, his lips grazing my ear. His grip tightens on my hips, fingers digging in. “Don’t touch you?” His hand slides lower, and I slap it away.

“Yes,” I snap, anger flaring hot. “Axel…what you did to me…” The words spill out in a rush. “You burned me. You scarred me. For life.”

“I’m aware.”

“I hate you. I fucking hate you. You don’t get to act like nothing happened.” My chest burns with the need to make him feel even a fraction of what I’ve endured. But I know better. He doesn’t care.

“I’m not acting like nothing happened,” he replies nonchalantly, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face and tucking it behind my ear.

The simple gesture makes me nauseous, and I try to pull away, but his other arm holds me captive.

“I’m very aware of what I did to you. I remember it vividly .” His fingers trace down my neck, skimming my collarbone. My breathing quickens, my chest heaving with the urge to fight back, but I’m paralyzed. “Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you look right now?” He presses a soft, infuriating kiss on my neck. “How much I want to fuck you?”

The audacity of him—acting like everything’s fine, like he hasn’t left scars I’ll carry forever. His hand drifts up my waist, fingers trailing over my back.

“Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Me. Don’t. Fucking. Look. At. Me.”

“Feisty. It makes me want you more.”

“You’re a psychopath,” I hiss.

“Yes, and?” His voice is a dark rumble, his lips hovering too close. I shove him hard, but he doesn’t move. He just laughs—a deep, infuriating sound that makes me want to scream.

He grips my ass and yanks me against him. His breath skims my ear.

“Now, don’t make a scene, princess. Unless you want everyone to see what a bad girl you are. Because I’ll gladly put on a show.”

Before I can respond, he pulls away, strolling back into the VIP section.

Shaking with rage, I storm to the bar, grab a bottle, and pour myself a drink. I down it in one shot, liquor burning a fiery path down my throat. I pour another, chasing the bitter sting with a desperate gulp.

After facing Axe, I need something to dull the edge. Soon, the alcohol starts to blur my thoughts.

I head for the couch by Kyla, but Axe grabs my arm and pulls me into his lap. I twist to get free, but his grip doesn’t budge. His hands lock around my waist, pinning me in place. Panic flares, but the crowd around us stays oblivious.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady. His arm drapes around me, his hand sliding deliberately along my ribs.

My breath catches, and my thoughts race, torn between bolting and the strange, confusing comfort of his strong body pressed against mine. What the hell is wrong with me? I blame the alcohol—no one in their right fucking mind would ever want to be close to Axel Hawthorne, not unless they were trying to kill him.

His hand trails up my thigh, slipping under the high-cut hem of my skirt. His touch sends a jolt through my body, and my skin prickles in response. No. This can’t happen. Not again.

I shift my hips, trying to break his grasp, but all I succeed in doing is grinding against him.

He whispers, “Keep moving, and I will take you right here. Show everyone who you belong to.”

“Go to hell,” I hiss.

His breath is hot on my neck, and his hands grip my thighs.

“I’m already there, little siren. But it’s much more fun now that you’re here with me.” He presses closer, grinding his hardening erection against me.

I attempt to stand, but his grip tightens, holding me in place.

“Let me go, Axe,” I whisper.

“Never. I like having you on my lap, struggling against me.”

His hand glides up my leg, fingertips skimming the lace of my thong. My pulse spikes as his touch dips lower, tracing the crease of my thigh. Panic and fear twist in my chest, colliding with the traitorous thrill of his touch.

He leans forward, his lips grazing my neck.

“What are you doing?” I whimper when he moves my thong aside.

“Touching what’s mine.” He runs his fingers along my wet slit, and I squirm. “Shh,” he coaxes, his teeth grazing my neck. “Be my good girl and stay quiet.”

“I’m not yours.”

“You’ll always be mine,” he whispers, sinking his fingers inside me. “Now sit still, or everyone is going to see how much you love my fingers in your tight little cunt.”

His fingers pump, and his other hand grips my thigh, holding me in place. The feeling of being trapped and violated, of his fingers invading my most intimate parts, is both terrifying and arousing.

Pressure builds inside me as he expertly manipulates my body, bringing me closer to the edge. I want him to stop, and I never want him to stop. What the hell is wrong with me? This is sick and twisted. I can’t stand him.

But his touch feel so damn good. He curls his fingers, and a choked sound slips from my lips before I can stop it.

“I hate you,” I manage to gasp.

“I know,” he says roughly. He adds a third finger, stretching me, increasing his pace. “I love hearing you say it. It makes me so fucking hard.” I bite my lip, trying to stay quiet, but it’s a struggle. I’m on the verge of orgasm, and I can’t stop it. It’s wrong, and I hate myself for it, but I’m desperate for release.

“Rory! Let’s go dance!” Kyla’s voice cuts through the haze, snapping me back to reality.

He slides his fingers out of me, and the sudden loss of his touch is jarring. My breathing is ragged, and my body trembles with unsatisfied need. What the hell did I just let him do? And why the hell did I like it? His grip on me is still tight, and I feel the wetness between my legs.

“Go have fun,” he says calmly. I try to stand, but his hands keep me in place. “Tonight, you come on my cock. I’m going to make you scream my name. You’ll be begging for mercy, and when I’m done with you, you’ll never forget who you belong to.”

His words are harsh and possessive.

“I own you,” he murmurs. “Every. Fucking. Part. Of. You.”

He presses a soft kiss on my collarbone, and the tenderness catches me off guard. It’s brief, and the anger returns as he leans back and smacks my ass.

“I can’t wait for tonight. Now go have fun.” As I rise from his lap, he gives me a mischievous smile and slides his fingers into his mouth, sucking off my wetness. “So fucking sweet.”

I stagger onto the dance floor, my head spinning, my body burning.

How the hell can I feel disgusted and turned on by him at the same time? It’s sick. I’m sick.

“What the hell was that about?” Kyla laughs. “You guys looked like you were having fun.”

“He’s an asshole.”

“Yeah, but he’s sexy.”

Axe’s gaze locks onto mine, a smug, satisfied smirk spreading across his annoyingly handsome face. He knows exactly how much he’s gotten under my skin, and he’s enjoying every second of it.