Page 43

CHAPTER 43

ARIELLA

I t was pouring rain by the time we made it home.

He'd never admit it, but I could see how much everything was weighing on him. He'd lost his sister, and it turned out it wasn't an accident.

"Hey." I perched on the arm of the couch beside him, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my sleeve. His gaze turned, freezing on me like he'd just realized I was in the room. "You okay?"

He sucked in a heavy breath as his arms dropped to his side, and he moved into my personal space. "I'm good."

I shouldn't care after everything he'd done to me, but a small part of me understood, understood the need to hurt the person who hurt Kacie, and he truly believed that person was me. The loss of Kacie was still so raw for everyone, but especially Zaiden, and no one helped him mourn her because after she died, his entire family fell apart. I'd spent the last year trying to make sense of her death. I'd blamed myself even though I knew it wasn't my fault.

"It's okay not to be okay," I whispered.

His gaze held mine for a long minute. "I'm—" He shook his head, a muscle working in his jaw. "I don't know."

Silence stretched between us. Rain drummed against the windows, punctuated by distant thunder. I watched his hands curl into fists, then release, curl, and release—a rhythm of restraint.

"Today was a lot," I finally offered.

"You could have been killed."

I swallowed. "I wasn't. And neither were you."

The distance between us on the couch felt both too vast and not nearly enough. He stared at his hands, voice dropping.

"I can't lose someone else," he whispered.

I closed my eyes. "I know."

He sucked in a deep breath. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you cared about me," he breathed as he reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair out of my face and sliding it behind my ear. His touch was so gentle that I almost forgot this was the new Zaiden—the one after Kacie's death.

I did care. I shouldn't, but I did. "I don't want to lose anyone else either." The thought of standing graveside and watching another casket lowered into the ground made my stomach churn.

His fingertips brushed over the bruise on my cheek. "No one is going to hurt you." Everything in his words and his touch made me believe him.

"Zaiden," I whispered, the name caught somewhere between prayer and a curse.

His knuckles dragged down my jaw, so gentle from hands I'd seen curled into weapons. His thumb pressed against my bottom lip, tugging slightly downward.

He leaned closer, his breath warming my mouth without touching it. "I want you more than I've ever wanted anything."

My lungs seized. The rain-soaked air thickened between us. This was the Zaiden I'd fallen for—before accusations, before graves, before hatred. But things had changed—hadn't they?

"I've always wanted you."

His lips hovered over mine, not quite touching. The scent of him filled each shallow breath I managed. My eyes fluttered closed, memory and desire waging war within me.

"Could have fooled me." My fingers spread across his chest, and I shoved gently.

He stepped back. "Really?" he smiled. "You couldn't tell that as much as I wanted to hate you, I couldn't. If you had been anyone else, I would have buried you in that grave alive."

"Zai—"

"Let me finish," he cut me off. "I didn't tell Kacie about us because if she'd said no, I couldn't have you, I thought I might never forgive her. I hate myself for that, but I was as obsessed with you then as I am now. Even through all the hate, I still loved you." I sucked in a sharp breath. "I would have died before I let EJ or anyone else have you, and it had nothing to do with ruining your life. It was all selfish. I wanted you, and I wanted everyone to know you were mine."

"If this is your way of apologizing?—"

"It's my way of telling you that I'm in love with you, Ariella, and I know you are too. Even if you're still mad at me, you still love me."

The corner of my lips curled into a grin. "You seem pretty sure about that."

He shrugged. "I'm positive."

He was the only boy I'd ever loved, but I honestly didn't know how I felt now. "If you need time to come to the realization, I can wait."

My gaze held his as my chest rose and fell with deep breaths. His confession pushed away all the bad and reminded me of all the good; protecting me during the school shooting, his tenderness after the motorcycle accident, the fear in his eyes when he thought I was hurt, the way he'd carried me out of the party protecting me from whoever drugged me, the way he'd held me after we found out Kacie was gone in the middle of the hospital. He hadn't even cried; he'd been strong for me, only to be told she left because of me.

I pushed to my feet, moving as though drawn by an invisible thread between us. Standing toe to toe with him, I could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell his cologne clinging to his skin. My chest heaved against his.

Fear and desire tangled in my throat. Hurt battled against the magnetic pull between us. I could push him away, preserve my pride. I could forgive him, release us both from this limbo.

"Kiss me," I breathed.

His brows pulled together, uncertainty replacing the usual confidence in his eyes. He leaned closer, questioning.

"Kis—"

The word dissolved as Zaiden's lips crashed against mine. The gentleness from moments before vanished. His hand dove into my hair, fingers tangling at the nape of my neck, tugging and angling my mouth where he wanted it. The kiss was possession, apology, and demand all at once, a physical manifestation of everything unsaid between us.

Part of me wanted to resist, to show him I wasn't so easily won. But another part, the part that had never stopped loving him, even through the hatred, surrendered completely.

Spine stiffening, my fingers curled into his shirt, the material bunching between my fingers as I pulled him tighter to me, and he sucked my bottom lip between his teeth. A moan escaped my lips as he captured my mouth, swallowing every sound.

His tongue thrust beyond the seal of my lips and met mine, tangling together.

A flash of light bleached the room white—one second, two seconds. Then came the boom, a crack of thunder so close it rattled the windows. The lights flickered once, twice, then surrendered to darkness.

And for the first time since childhood, I wasn't afraid of the dark.

As crazy as it sounded, with his arms around me, the darkness felt like a cocoon rather than a threat. The man who had terrorized me had somehow become my sanctuary. When I was with him, I felt safe. The irony wasn't lost on me.

He pulled back from the kiss, both of us gasping as though we'd been underwater. In the darkness, I could only make out the silhouette of his face, but I felt the rapid rise and fall of his chest against mine.

"Are you okay?" he breathed, his words warm against my lips, concern evident even in whispers.

The rain intensified outside. The house creaked and settled around us. In this moment of darkness and storm, I made a decision I couldn't unmake.

"Take me to your bedroom," I whispered, my voice steadier than I felt.

His hands curled around my hips, holding me steady. "Does that mean you forgive me?"

"I thought you didn't care if I forgave you."

"No," his lips pressed to my neck below my ear, "what I said was I'm not apologizing for making you mine because I'm not sorry." His teeth grazed my throat as he kissed and licked from one side to the other. "You are mine, Ariella." His lips traced my jawline. "So you can tell me you hate me. Tell me how angry you are. Punch me in the face. Whatever makes you feel better, and when you're done, we can move on because you. Are. Mine."

"I don't hate you," my fingertips traced the curves of his abs through his shirt, "and I'm not angry. Anymore."

The lights flashed back on without warning. In the sudden brightness, we blinked at each other, momentarily disoriented. My gaze lifted slowly to meet his. The vulnerability I'd glimpsed in the darkness remained unmasked by the light.

"And I've already punched you in the face."

We both smiled, a strange, genuine moment of connection over shared violence. The absurdity wasn't lost on either of us.

"I want to move on." The words felt like release and risk at once.

"Then we move on." Simple. Final. His certainty almost made me surrender.

Almost.

My lips pressed into a tight line as I slowly shook my head. The rain drummed harder against the windows. I pushed my pointer finger into the center of his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

"Not," I tapped once, "until you say: 'I'm sorry, Ariella. I'm sorry for throwing you in an empty grave in the dark.'"

The memory of dirt beneath my fingernails flashed through me. The power shifted between us.

His lips quirked up—that familiar, infuriating half-smile. "Is that what you need?"

I squared my shoulders, summoning courage I wasn't entirely sure I possessed. The room felt warmer, the air charged. I pointed to the ground between us, the gesture both ridiculous and deadly serious.

"On your knees." I pointed to the ground.

"You want me to get on my knees for you?” With his hands on my hips, he slowly lowered to his knees, his eyes holding mine, "and beg for forgiveness." He tugged me closer to him.

I bit down on my lip, and my head slowly nodded as a million butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

The lights flickered, and thunder boomed again as his thumb tugged down a small section of the waistband of my pants. "Does this make it better?" He pressed his full lips to my hip bone. "Or how about this?" His lips traced from one side of my lower stomach to the other before pressing his lips to the other hip bone.

My lips parted slightly as my gaze followed his every move, and my pulse thrummed in my ears. Zaiden Knight, the man who bows to no one, was on his knees for me. He'd hurt me, humiliated me, damn near fucking broke me, but he'd also made me feel safe, protected me, pleased me, and now was begging for my forgiveness.

He pressed his lip below my belly button, staring up through long, dark lashes. "Tell me you forgive me, Ariella."

I shook my head, and he grinned against my skin as his fingers slid into the waistband of my pants and slowly glided them down my legs, dragging my panties with them.

I moaned as my head fell back, and my fingers slid into his hair, unable to form words as he mapped kisses along my inner thighs and pussy. He slid his tongue up my length, and I nearly came undone when he struck my clit.

Our gaze collided as my fingers tightened in his hair. The intensity in his eyes made my breath catch, and the lights went out again. My body immediately tensed.

"I'm here, Ariella." The heat of his breath feathered across my pussy as his hands tightened around my thighs, proving he was here and he wasn't going to leave me. "You're safe. No one will ever hurt you again."

"Promise?" My words were barely above a whisper. "Not even you?"

"I promise."

His hand curled around the back of my thigh before lifting it over his shoulder. I gasped when his wet, heated tongue glided up and down my slit tracing my clit and then moving down to my entrance. His tongue dipped inside, teasing and tasting me before sliding back up, flicking my clit.

My fingers tangled in his hair as my hips bucked into his face.

He resisted. "Tell me you forgive me," he hummed against my pussy.

"Say I'm sorry," I ordered. "The words, Zaiden."

He slid a finger inside me, slowly thrusting in and out as his tongue swiped over my clit, and my knees nearly buckled. "I'm sorry." He added another finger, and I gasped, biting my lip. "Now, forgive me so I can make you come."

"Oh God," I moaned. "I forgive you."

"Tell me you're mine."

My teeth sank into my bottom lip as my muscles spasmed, and my pussy pulsated around his fingers.

The lights flashed back, painting the room in stark white for a heartbeat before darkness swallowed us again. In that brief illumination, the sight of Zaiden on his knees before me seared into my memory.

"Tell me you're mine, Ariella." His voice vibrated against my most sensitive flesh.

Lightning flickered again. His eyes locked with mine, waiting.

"I'm yours." The confession escaped me just as thunder cracked overhead, as though the storm itself acknowledged my surrender.

His arm snaked around my other leg in one fluid movement. Strong hands gripped my waist, and I was weightless. My squeal of surprise was lost beneath another roll of thunder as he lifted me effortlessly. My back arched, hands scrambling to dive into his hair. The intimacy was dizzying, vulnerability and power exchanging with each ragged breath.

Darkness. Light. Darkness again as the storm played with the electricity. Every flash revealed us in a new position, like frames of a film reel jumping forward in time.

With my hands tightening around the back of his head, my pussy swallowed his face as my thighs clenched around him. He shifted, holding me as he lowered my back to the ground.

My muscles relaxed as my back flattened on the floor, and he gasped for air when I released him. His large hands wrapped around my inner thigh, forcing me to spread wider for him.

"Fuck, you taste so sweet." His words vibrated against my flesh, each syllable a new sensation.

He slid a finger inside me, a slow invasion that made my back arch from the floor. The rhythm he established started lazy, hypnotic, building like the storm outside. The windows rattled with thunder as his mouth covered my clit, the suction precise and merciless.

My thighs trembled uncontrollably. The air grew too thick to breathe properly, each inhalation shallow and desperate.

"Oh, my fucking God," I cried out, the words barely recognizable even to my own ears.

Lightning flashed, illuminating his face between my legs for a split second—his eyes locked on mine, watching, gauging every reaction. In that brief brightness, the intensity in his gaze undid me.

He added another finger, the stretch burning in the most exquisite way.

"Soak my fingers, baby," he commanded, voice rough with desire, "and come for me."

The darkness returned, heightening every sensation. Each thrust went deeper than the last, my body yielding to his relentless rhythm. His tongue circled with precision, creating patterns that made my consciousness splinter. Every muscle in my body contracted, preparing for release, the pressure building at the base of my spine like a gathering storm.

"Zaiden," I screamed as my entire body seized, pleasure blurring my vision as my back arched.

He removed his fingers as his tongue moved to my entrance, darting in and out of me, lapping up every bit of my orgasm. He shifted to his knees, and I pushed up on my elbows to see him. He was already shoving down his pants and boxers, releasing his massive cock before he ripped his shirt off, tossing it.

His body was a fucking masterpiece created by the Gods who obviously favored him.

He wrapped his hands around my thighs and jerked me to him, pulling my thighs over his, positioning himself between my legs.

"Condom?"

"No, baby," he groaned, fisting his cock before he dragged his head up and down the length of me, coating himself with my arousal. "I want to ride you raw." I shivered as goosebumps broke out over my skin. He nudged my entrance, and I held my breath as my heart pounded, anticipation sending it into overdrive.

Our gazes locked, and I sucked in a sharp breath as he sank inside me, filling me inch by inch. He dropped to his hands before lowering to his elbows, hovering over me. This time was so different. It felt like love and not like a punishment.

I liked both versions of him. The revelation should have troubled me more than it did.

I liked seeing the softer side of the beast—the vulnerability, the care, the tenderness I once thought lost forever. But I also craved the beast itself—the possessiveness, the intensity, the sharp edges that had cut me open and left me bleeding.

What did that say about me?

On a low, strangled groan, he withdrew slowly, painfully slow, before pushing back in. My hands flattened against his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath sweat-slicked skin. Each thrust went deeper than the last, a gradual claiming that felt like surrender and victory simultaneously.

His lips brushed mine, surprisingly gentle amidst everything else. "You are mine."

Three simple words that should have enraged me after everything, but instead sent heat spiraling through my core. He captured my mouth, devouring it with an intensity that matched the storm still raging outside.

I kissed him back with everything, every tear I'd shed because of him, every night I'd spent hating him, every moment I'd secretly loved him. Love and hate tangled together until they became indistinguishable, pleasure and pain blurring at the edges. His speed increased with my response, as though he could feel my emotional surrender.

The complexity of wanting someone who had hurt me so deeply should have given me pause. Instead, it pulled me under like a riptide.

His hips snapped forward, and I broke on a gasp. "And I am yours." Our heavy breathing mingled with his words. "Come for me, baby."

My heart rate spiked as my eyes closed and my back arched into him. "Harder." I wanted more.

His deep voice rolled over me, a hint of amusement wrapped around the edges. "You like it rough, don't you, baby?" The question hung between us, both of us knowing the answer. "You like it dirty."

He grabbed my wrists in one fluid motion, pinning them above my head against the cool floor. The gesture was commanding but not cruel, the perfect pressure to make me yield without fear. His mouth descended on my throat, not kissing but claiming, teeth and tongue marking territory.

The shift in power was electric. I could fight it, maintain the control I'd reclaimed earlier. Or I could surrender to this, the pleasure of letting go.

"Yes," I breathed, the single syllable carrying more honesty than any speech could.

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes: satisfaction, desire, and something deeper I couldn't name. The lights flickered momentarily, catching the sheen of sweat on his chest and the intensity of his focus.

His hips snapped forward without warning, and whatever thoughts I had scattered like birds. He set a rhythm designed to unravel me, quick, brutal strokes that left no room for pretense or pride.

"Take my dick like a good fucking girl," he growled, the crudeness of his words contrasting with the almost reverent way his free hand cradled my face.

A sharp breath left me as every muscle in my body tensed in response. The sensations, the roughness of his movements, the tenderness in his touch, created a contradiction my body understood better than my mind. It felt so good I couldn't think straight, couldn't remember why I'd ever resisted this, resisted him.

My pussy clenched around him as I focused on the way his massive cock filled me, the heat of his breath on my skin, his rough greedy moans mixed with the wet sounds of our sweat slick bodies sliding together, and the way we fit together so perfectly.

He ground himself hard against me, hitting that spot that made me cry out as I wiggled against him, desperate for more.

I was so close. So fucking close.

Every vicious snap of his hips sent me soaring closer and closer to the edge until I was teetering over, and with one last deep, hard thrust, I was soaring over with an orgasm so powerful it stole my ability to breathe.

"Fuck," he grunted with a harsh breath. His hands tightened around my wrists, and his abs clenched as he held himself deep before he exploded.

His body collapsed against mine. Our labored breathing filled the quiet room as we stayed still for what felt like forever.

He rolled to my side, and I shifted to sit up. "I forgive you, but if you?—"

"I won't." His tone was so sincere that I believed him.