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22

KALEB

S he’s gone.

I can tell Shiloh isn’t here before I even open my eyes. Before my consciousness fully returns to my body.

A predator notices everything .

The emptiness on her side of the bed. The chill that wasn’t there when I fell asleep. Her weight beside me, it’s nonexistent.

She isn’t here.

I whip my head to the side, verifying what my heart already knows. “Shiloh.”

Nothing.

I’m out of bed, throwing on a pair of clean boxers, jeans, and a hoodie from the dresser.

“Shi,” I warn, shoving socks over my feet and wrangling into my sneakers.

Of course she doesn’t answer. I can tell she’s gone.

I have to find her .

My chest squeezes when I see her note on the kitchen counter.

Be right back. Love you.

The nauseating feeling that tightened its grip on me when I woke up persists. My chest, fuck, it hurts.

I know where she is, and it isn’t at the police station. She would’ve woken me up for that. Wouldn’t have needed to sneak out.

She’s outside doing something she shouldn’t.

Something I wouldn’t approve of.

A short trip somewhere. Where?

Be right back.

She. Snuck. Out.

Alarm bells go off in my head.

It could be…

No.

No .

One stop to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face, and I’m out the door.

My hoodie is pulled up to hide most of my face. The shadows hide my distinctive gold eyes in case that indie reporter thinks it’s wise to come snooping.

She mentioned that her dad paid him off. I checked his blog last night when she dozed off in my embrace.

Radio silence, as expected.

For now.

See, the thing about people is that they lie. He could have taken the money and then stalked us anyway.

Therefore, my hoodie .

I’m not getting caught.

I’m going to find her.

Clouds hang low in the sky, painting the neighborhood in gray. A quick scan tells me that there’s no one lurking around her apartment building. Not a reporter.

Not her.

My mind races a million miles a minute. Worrying about what she’s doing out there is eating me alive.

You already know.

Fuck. Damn it. I don’t want to know. Except I do.

At this moment—when I suspect she might be doing what I think she’s doing—I’m done being a man. A person. I’m feral. An animal.

A hunter.

I stalk over to the main street where the pharmacy is.

Where I suspected she’d be.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t wrong.

My sweet little sister is here, wearing her own clothes. A pair of light jeans, a gray coat over a black shirt. Her hair is wet and hanging in thick waves down her shoulders.

Her head is bowed down as she leaves the pharmacy. A futile attempt to go incognito. To hide herself from the world.

From me.

It might work on everyone else. The people who pass her by will never notice this hidden gem.

I will. I do.

That bag in her grip. That plastic fucking bag and the water bottle in her other hand. I wish I never knew what was in that bag .

I wish it were Tylenol or Nyquil. An allergy med or what-fucking-ever.

No. None of that.

She bought Plan B.

A sharp pain slices through my head.

God. Fuck.

Fuck.

I get it. Wrong place and wrong goddamn time to have a kid.

Being on the run while pregnant is the definition of reckless. A woman could suffer morning sickness. She could need bed rest. There’s no telling where we’ll be in a month. A year. If the baby would need help.

I have a solid plan, true. However, there’s always a chance that things could go wrong.

We could lose the baby while we’re trying to claim our lives back.

I don’t want that. I’d be crazy to want that.

I might be fucked in the head. An abomination.

I’m fully aware that waiting for our life to be less chaotic is the right thing to do. One hundred percent.

But damn it all to hell.

Understanding her doesn’t make it any less painful. The pounding in my head won’t listen to reason.

This pill. This fucking pill. I have to rip it from her hands before it lands on her tongue.

I could do that. Walk over there. Snatch the bag out of her hand in broad daylight. Drag her back home and fuck her until she’s a sobbing mess, begging for my forgiveness. Until she listens to reason.

Until she trusts me to always be there for them. My family.

It won’t get my point across.

Shiloh’s into that kind of pain.

For all I know, she might try to buy that pill again just to spite me. Just to get me to rut into her while I mark her sweet flesh. Her cunt. Her ass.

Damn, I’m hard for this.

I slip into an alley where she won’t be able to see me. Where I can think.

I have to teach her a lesson that won’t be enjoyable for her.

A reminder of what a monster I am. How capable I am of tearing the world apart.

That’s how far I’m willing to go for her. For our baby.

I’ll hurt her, too. Not yet, though. Not until she actually goes through with this. Only then will I show her.

She has to see .

The thought of hurting her sends fire through me. Adrenaline floods my veins, turning me into a predator with deadly instincts.

She walks by me, her eyes still fixed on the floor, her hair falling over her face. The urge to fist the silky strands and pull until she screams—until the veins in her throat bulge—is strong. All-consuming.

The breath I suck in helps subside it.

I stick my head out, watching her small steps on the pavement. A cool breeze laps at my face, dousing the searing heat of lust and anger .

A fraction of it, anyway.

With my shoulders squared and my hands curled into fists, I follow Shiloh.

A man holding coffee in one hand passes by me, ignoring me in favor of his phone call. Good thing he did. For his sake, granted.

Less so for Shiloh’s. Because I’m coming for her. Her and no one else.

She’s faster now, turning and cutting into an alley. I can’t hear the sound of her footsteps, so I stop where I am.

Listening.

A bottle cap unscrews with a hushed pop .

A package tearing sound follows.

And there it is. Another pop . This one has to be the blister pack.

My teeth are about to turn into dust. That’s how hard I’m grinding them.

Shiloh gulps.

That’s my cue.

Her first reaction is to press her back against the wall of the building. She winces at the pain of her wounded ass and thighs brushing against it.

Then she coughs. Blinks.

She sees me there, so close that I block out the sun.

“No.” Her blue eyes bulge. It should be illegal to be so enticing when I’m that mad at her.

So seductive .

“Well, hello there.” Before she manages to hide the plastic bag in the pocket of her coat, I snatch it out of her hand. “What’s in the bag, little sister?”

“Give it back.” She leaps at me.

She’s missing more than a couple of inches to reach it. I lift it higher, turning the plastic bag over so its contents fall into my other hand while I glare at her.

When I finally look at it, I have to bite my lip.

Or I’d scream.

I hate her. I love her. I want to crawl under her skin.

Can’t get enough of her and her pissed-off expression. She hops on the balls of her feet, her chest pushing against mine.

“Bad girls don’t get to have anything. You should know that by now.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Is that so?” I throw the bag to the floor to free up one hand.

Fuck her water bottle. I swat at her wrist, and it goes tumbling to the ground, too.

She desperately hops up and down and I’m done with this.

I wrap an arm around her waist. Drag her deeper into the alley where we won’t have an audience.

“Kaleb. No.”

Her reddened cheeks and frantic gaze do things to me. My mind slips. I feel it as it’s happening. Feel the control over my body dwindling.

Her neck. It’s so slender. It fits so perfectly in my palm.

All I’ll have to do is?—

No.

I love her. I’m keeping her.

Alive.

But not before her punishment. Her lesson. She’s not getting away with this. I grip her chin, thrusting my hips and shoving her back into the wall.

Another flinch. God, she’s adorable. I wish she’d tell me just how much my marks hurt.

Later.

“I want to have babies with you.” At least she’s honest.

She knows there’s no use denying what she’s done. I have the evidence right here. Held up between us. Yet she isn’t sorry. She’s determined, glaring daggers at me.

“It looks exactly like what I think it is,” I hiss, rocking my hips, grinding my cock against her. Once. I fucking need it.

I need her.

Back to punishing her. To showing her that no monster will ever be worse than I am.

That I’m the best and only man to protect her.

“We—I—” Her bottom lip wobbles. She growls, snapping her mouth shut. Deep breath. “I owe our baby a better future than what we can offer them right now. Parents who won’t be on the run. Who’ll be able to give them the love they deserve.”

I’m about to tell her no one will ever love them as much as I will. This creature that’ll be half-her and half-me. I’ll love it as much as a man like me can.

As much as my dark soul allows.

My body ripples with knowledge. With fury.

With her suggesting that I won’t be able to.

Anger morphs into gut-wrenching sadness .

What the hell is this?

I don’t recognize this pain.

Only I do.

My insides twisted just the same on that awful day.

They touched me. I didn’t want it. It hurt.

The pain that started in the pit of my stomach rises. A million daggers tear through my insides. Puncturing every organ in their paths. I’m bleeding on the inside, and motherfucker, the pain.

“You’re scared they’ll turn out like me.”

“No. God, no. Please, Kaleb.” She grabs my hoodie. “Didn’t you hear me? I said?—”

“No.” I slam a hand next to her head. Crush the damn pill box between me and the wall. “I heard you just fine. I understand.”

I’d have to be an idiot not to, right? I told her she was the only person I’d ever loved.

Meaning—fuck—that I might not love our baby at all.

It’ll never happen. I haven’t been incapable of love for years.

I’ll always love her and our kids. Always.

But I get why she worries. I planted these ideas in her head. That she was the only one my heart would ever open up to.

“Take a deep breath.” Her fingers dig into my clothes. I release her chin to bat them away. “You have to calm down. You have to calm down to listen to me.”

“I said I understood.” I look left and right. No one’s stopping on the street. No one’s staring. Looking back at her hurts so fucking bad. “Who’d want a kid with someone like me?”

“I—”

“Did I ever tell you that I terrified my preschool teacher?” I lower my face to hers, breathing fire. “She called my parents, asking them to transfer me to a different school. To homeschool me. Anything but be in her classroom.”

Shiloh shakes her head, her hair swiping at the harsh wall behind her.

“Dad beat me up good that night.” Memories pummel into me. I’m not in pain as I relive them. They just are.

“That bastard.” She grips my hoodie again.

“Shut up, Shiloh.” One hand slams over her mouth, another on her throat. The Plan B box drops to the floor. “ Freak , Dad called me. Blood-sucking vampire! You think I got nothing better to do than take care of your bullshit? He got too close, so I stabbed his foot with a knife. He kicked me so hard I passed out.”

A tear leaks down her cheek, wetting my palm.

I lean in to lick it. I’m a selfish, sadistic bastard. She’d do well to remember that.

“He wouldn’t have hated the idea of me procreating. I get why you’d hate it just the same. Why you’d try to kill our baby.” It doesn’t matter that my body heats at her touch. At her hand on the side of my neck. I’m pissed. Gotta remember that. “I even understand that now isn’t the right time. But I don’t give a fuck. You’re not taking Plan B. Ever.”

A sting on my wrist. An ache in my shin. She’s clawing at me. Kicking me. Screaming into my palm .

Hearing her apologize for it will be the worst. Her pity will eat at whatever sanity I have left.

“You will love me, damn it.” I haul her off the wall, dragging her deeper into the alley. Behind the building. Behind the bushes. I killed a person behind a similar one last night. I’m going to force Shiloh to love me here on this gloomy morning.

“You will have our baby.”

We’re both crouching, both breathing hard. With one hand in her wet hair, I push her head until she’s looking at the ground.

“In a few months,” she gasps when I remove my hand from her mouth. “All I’m asking for is a few months. I do want your baby. Please, listen to me.”

I should.

Because she isn’t apologizing to me. Doesn’t tell me that I’m the problem.

There’s no I’m sorry tumbling out of her while I press my middle and index fingers together in front of her face. While I use them to shove her bottom lip down.

So yeah, I should listen.

Problem is, I’m too wrapped up in my emotions. Too far gone for that. I never handled so many of them. All at once.

They’re bearing down on me. Punching my ribs from the inside.

My temples throb. My head spins. God, the pain.

Is this what people babble on about when they talk about heartache?

I’m glad, then, to have been born a freak. To have had twenty-six years of being free of that bullshit .

“I don’t care, Kaleb. I will never give a fuck about what anyone else says or thinks about them.” Breathless pleas. Tears in the corners of her eyes. I don’t let up, even though her speech is garbled with my fingers in her mouth. “I’ll love them with my whole heart. Always. But please. Please . You can’t believe that this is the right thing to do. It’ll make running damn near impossible. We won’t be able to blend in. I won’t be able to run. So many things could go wrong. You know this.”

“I know I’ll protect you.”

“I know”— breathe —“you’ll try.”

The world ceases to exist. Images upon images assault me, as vivid as if they’re a movie.

As if they’re my life.

My beautiful Shiloh, growing our baby in her womb. Her skin stretching to accommodate the tiny thing.

Her palm rubbing her beautiful stomach while she has her feet up in my lap. They do that in the movies. Massage pregnant women’s feet. It alleviates the pressure, and yeah, I’ll do it for her.

Then—movement from inside her body.

We’re sitting in a home with a view of the ocean. Free. Careless.

Us.

Something isn’t just moving anymore. They’re kicking.

I abandon her feet. Put both palms on her belly.

We both feel our little one.

We smile at each other.

The movie ends .

I’m back to the present. In the city. Dark clouds. Impending rain.

I’m in hell.

“Soon,” she whispers, staring up at me. “When we’re out of here. When we find someplace safe to stay. Please. You have to understand.”

The images linger there, in the back of my mind.

It’s mine, that movie. That life.

“No, Shiloh. I don’t understand.”

Eleven years was a hell of a long time to wait. I did it because I had to. I’ll never regret it.

I’ll never regret this, either.

“Open up. Wider.”

“I love you.”

“Open. Up.”

She relents, sighing as she leans on my knee with one hand.

“Good girl.” I shove my fingers all the way down her throat. It clenches around me. She’s scratching me through my jeans as I increase the pressure. “Alas, you’ve earned this punishment, Shi. This one’s all on you. You need to learn the hard way just how protective I am of not just you but our future babies. Do you see that now? Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you ?”

Her spit dribbles down my wrist. I curl my fingers, coaxing more gagging sounds out of her.

“Let it out.” With my hand threaded in her hair, I push her lower. Rub her sweet, hot throat over and over and over .

That first heave is precious. She wretches hard. Spitting and coughing water down my hand. Soaking my sleeve.

“Good girl.”

I rub on the back of her throat, forcing another heave out of her.

This one gets me what I’m after.

The half-digested pill rests there, on my sleeve. White on top of black.

The throbbing in my head is replaced by instant relief.

“Good girl. You’re such a good girl.” I take Shiloh in my arms as she gasps for air, sit on the ground, and cradle her in my lap. “You did so well.”

“We’ll regret this,” she says, her arms hanging around my neck. Her head rests on my shoulder. “If it happens, if I get pregnant, we’ll live to regret it.”

She knows about my plan in broad strokes. What she doesn’t know is that the authorities will never come searching for us. I’ll tell her about it later. Soothe her when it suits me.

She’s scared. Panicked. Her rippling fear gets my cock hard and my blood thrumming in my veins.

I’m a bastard.

She loves me, anyway.

“We won’t.” I plant a kiss on the top of her head. Inhale her scent and pull her closer to my chest. “We could never.”

“It’ll be the best thing ever, you know.” She draws circles on the back of my neck, her fingertips soft on my skin. It’s nice. Calming. I store the information in my head as another thing that makes Shiloh happy. “If our kids turn out like you. ”

My brow furrows as I pull back to stare at her. “I didn’t hear you.”

Despite the silence surrounding us. Despite us being so close.

I couldn’t have heard what I think I did.

“They’d be better off having your genes. Being a carbon copy of you. Don’t give me that look. Of course I want them to be like you, Kaleb.” Her palm is as soft as silk against my cheek. For over a decade, I’ve slept on rough sheets and pillowcases. Nothing like this. Nothing was ever as smooth as her skin. As her words. “Strong. Resilient. Confident. Beautiful. You.”

“What about you?”

She shakes her head.

My fingers snap around her wrist. I’m hurting her again. Don’t give a fuck. “What makes you think you aren’t all those things? Because your dad was a prick who fucked with your head? Because two molesting fuckers assaulted you?”

Shiloh is brave, lifting her chin to meet me eye to eye. “Yes. And I let them. You wouldn’t have.”

“Fuck that.” She’s light in my arms as I stand up. “Fuck. That. It wasn’t your fault. You’re human. More human than I could ever be. It’s beautiful to watch. So beautiful to experience life through you, Shiloh.”

“I let them mess with me,” she says on our way to her apartment.

“Shut up, Shiloh.”

My dirty sleeve clings to her clothes. Her cheeks are tear-stained. She has to shower before going down to the police station and from there to her school .

The few people who cross our path avert their gazes. She looks sick. They don’t want to look judgmental, I assume.

Win-win.

“It’s the truth, though. I could’ve fought back.”

“They tortured you. Manipulated you. A kid.” We’re getting closer to her apartment. Once we’re there, I’ll shower her, dress her, and send her off so I can repay my debt to Jerome and be done with it. “A defenseless kid.”

“Or.” She ignores me, her voice growing distant. “If I were like you, which is what I wish for our kids, I wouldn’t have cared. Except I did. I did, and I ruined everything.”

“You did care. You never gave up on me. You never gave up on yourself. You kept going because you cared about living and cared about us.” I’m this close to raising my voice. This close to making a scene. Instead, I stop to look at her. “Hey.”

“What?” She pouts, her bottom lip jutting out.

“Shiloh.” I hold her close and release one hand to rub her lip and tug on it. “You’re the only emotion I ever want to feel.”

Her face crumples.

She’s about to cry.

Bad timing. Bad fucking timing.

I catch a movement out of the corner of my eye and snap my head up.

Short, chubby man. Gray hair. The way he fumbles with his car keys.

“Dr. Reynolds,” I whisper close to her ear.

“Oh, shit. Put me down. Put me down!” She shoves at me, scrambling to get off .

I don’t argue. Behind a building that hides us from him is where I lower her to the floor. She swipes at her dried tears. Straightens up. Steely resolve takes over her expression.

“You have to promise me, Kaleb. You have to promise you’re not going to get caught on your mission today.” Her tone, combined with her hands on her hips, is so fucking adorable. “You’ll repay the favor to your friend and go straight to that apartment you live in. You’ll wait there for me. And under no circumstances, don’t kill your doctor. Just don’t. I’ve got this.”

“I promise. But don’t think that I’m not coming back for you.” She’s hot when she sasses. When she thinks she has the upper hand. When she has no idea what I have planned for her today. “Go.”

Her blue, clever gaze studies me for another long minute. “Kaleb. Swear.”

“Swear.”

Shiloh sees the lie for what it is. She growls and lifts to kiss my cheek, regardless.

I grip her chin and claim her mouth, puke and all.

As long as there’s no Plan B in there, I’m good.

Never better.