Page 39

Veronica

“W hat the fuck have you been up to?” Shiro demands over the phone.

Veronica sits on a couch, bent over as she struggles to lace her shoe. She barely processes his words until he gasps dramatically. “Wait, why am I hearing the echo of my voice? Did you put me on speaker?”

Veronica straightens, glancing at the phone she set on the coffee table. She lifts it into her hand, then glances around for any possible eavesdropper.

There’s only one brooding soldier. He is standing outside the sliding glass door, which apparently is soundproof, so he can’t hear anything.

“I was lacing my shoe,” she says, removing the call from the speaker, fixing it between her right ear and shoulder as she resumes her action.

“Lacing your shoe?” She can practically see his brows pinched together in confusion before he suddenly gasps again. “Veronica Beaumont!” Shiro exclaims and Veronica rolls her eyes. “Have you been out doing something bad?”

“Is this why you called?” Her tone is dismissive, but his accurate guess causes her cheeks to suddenly heat up, while she squirms on the couch she is sitting on.

Veronica can suddenly feel Kael as though she has been teleported back there again, the heat of his body against her searing skin, his callous hands wrapped around her throat, his husky voice and his cock throbbing against her slick walls, spilling his hot release inside her.

Fuck.

“You are so disgusting.” Shiro’s voice is laced with pure revulsion. “Did you just zone out to relive everything you did?”

“No!” she splutters, straightening her spine. Her eyes dart around the room, the weight of someone’s stare pressing against her skin.

Kael.

He stands a few feet away, watching her. A white towel hangs low on his narrow waist, beads of sweat clinging to his tattooed skin like dewdrops on glass. His dark, knowing gaze pins her in place. A predator eyeing his prey.

“Well, while you were somewhere getting down,” Shiro continues, unaware. “Your grandmother or whatever she is, has been blowing up my phone, demanding your whereabouts.”

Veronica barely hears him. Kael is moving forward, his steps slow and deliberate. Her pulse flutters erratically.

“I’m about to head home,” she murmurs, unable to tear her eyes away.

“Yes do,” Shiro scoffs. “I’m sure he is still around. So you can go back for more tomorrow. But for now, please save me from your estranged grandma. This is the highest number of calls I have received from a woman in years, and that includes my mother.”

Veronica chuckles, a haze of confusion passing briefly in her eyes as Kael finally reaches her.

“Hey, let me call you—”

Before she can finish, Kael plucks the phone from her grasp.

“It’s just Shiro,” she tells him.

But he ignores her, scanning the content of the screen. She rises to her feet as his finger begins to click around the phone, definitely wandering far away from the call that’s still on hold. When she takes a peek at the screen, she finds him on messages, scrolling through her and Shiro’s own.

She rolls her eyes. She had recently switched Shiro’s contact to BBFAI— Best Friend Forever and Infinity. That must be difficult for him to decode so he assumes it’s another man.

But seeing the goofy messages exchanged between Shiro and her, he must have connected the dots, because the rigid muscles of his face suddenly relaxes and he places the phone back in her hand, turns, and begins to walk away.

“Sup?” Shiro’s voice echoes from the other end of the line. But Veronica’s gaze follows Kael, watching the taut muscles of his back flex. Her eyes unintentionally continue to trace the dark ink sprawling across his back—a double-edged circle, its borders lined with intricate temys symbols. Between the twin edges of the circle and at the very heart of the design, the markings intertwine like an ancient script. A sword is driven straight through the circle’s center as if piercing the insignia itself.

Veronica never knew the tattoo existed until the very first time she slept with Raidon. The few times she’d had sex with Kael, he was always clothed, so she never saw the tattoo. She only noticed it the first time she and Raidon had sex. He did take off his clothes then. She caught it when they were showering together, and couldn’t help trailing her fingers through the arches, curves and dents.

When she asked him what it meant or why he got it, he had no answer. It wasn’t his choice. Kael had been in control when it happened. Raidon had simply woken up one morning to find his back marked with ink, just like all the other tattoos spiraling up his arms, a permanent reminder of something he didn’t remember choosing. The only tattoo he got willingly is the snarling python crawling up his neck. He didn’t wish to get it. But he had to because it’s the insignia of his platoon, just like Veronica had guessed when she saw the same python tattoo on nearly all his men.

“What was that?” Suspicion sharpens Shiro’s tone. “You were telling someone about me?”

“Uh, nothing. It’s just Kael.” She takes a step from the spot she’s standing and discomfort blooms between her thighs again. Kael nearly wrecked her.

“Kael?” Shiro demands, and Veronica snaps her eyes shut, cursing under her breath. Raidon is a man with terrible anger issues and equally terrible mood swings. That’s as far as he knows. If he finds out about the real truth—that they are two different men living in one body—he might as well just pass out.

“Raidon,” she corrects. “His, um, his middle name is Kael.” She scratches the bridge of her nose nervously, hoping that it was a smooth sail.

“I thought it was Ardalion?” Shiro questions, his tone layered with suspicion.

“He um.” She scratches her head. “He has many middle names. Don’t you have like three middle names?”

“Oh, sure,” Shiro mutters, his voice distant and still very skeptical. But he doesn’t push it.

“Okay then, call me when you get home,” he adds. “That woman seemed pretty irritated and shocked that you weren’t home. I told her we were doing homework and you slept off. So, go with that.”

“You are the best,” she says, hanging up.

Veronica grabs her backpack from the couch, slinging it over her shoulder. She takes a step and discomfort blooms between her thighs. Then she slumps back onto the couch again, grunting.

It should wear off in an hour…hopefully.

Kael is an insatiable, greedy beast. He doesn’t stop when she’s exhausted or spent. He takes, claims, and marks until she is unraveling beneath the weight of his callous touch.

In the last forty minutes, there was not a moment his cock wasn’t buried inside her. And as quickly as he releases, his cock grows rock-hard again, throbbing, aching, and the next moment, he is pounding into her, raw, hard…angry, stealing air from her lungs. She is sure she has never come so hard in her life before.

And the worst part, she enjoyed every moment of it. The dominance, the way he bullied her into submission, the fire in his eyes as he whispered dirty things in her ears, the wickedness in his hands. And his cock. She’s sure she is addicted to his cock at this point.

Still, as much as she enjoyed every thrill, every ride, she craves Raidon. She misses him. His gentle touches. The soft lingering kisses. The reverence in his gaze. The way he treats her like something that should be worshipped.

She wants it all back.

“I can’t believe Marlene gave you this much freedom,” Carla murmurs over a plate of fried potato and fish.

Veronica has been home for over an hour, but the woman’s complaint and whining haven’t ceased. Even while she cooked, Carla’s murmured prayers for misguided youths filled the kitchen.

“Do you need anything else?” Veronica asks, already plotting her escape. The second she steps into her room, she is not coming out again. Not even if there is an apocalypse.

“If I don’t want anything else, what will happen?” Carla sets her fork down, elbows braced on the table. “You’ll go to your room and press your phone all night?”

“Uh, precisely that,” Veronica says with a bit of an attitude that Carla doesn’t fail to catch.

“Sit,” she commands, pointing her fork at the chair Veronica is standing next to.

Veronica sighs but obeys anyway, pulling out the chair and sitting.

Carla proceeds to chew her food with deliberate slowness, savoring each bite before a measured sip of water.

“You know,” she begins, pausing dramatically. “In my country, well, in my home, when food is made, a child stays behind to wash the dishes. That’s respect for elders, a value taught to us.” She shrugs. “But I guess different countries, different values?” She takes another bite of fish. “Thank God you didn’t find yourself in Cape Verde or worse, any other African country like Nigeria. There will be no room for this attitude and disrespect. One little mess and your mother’s slipper is flying across the room.”

Veronica’s brow furrows. Is that why Marlene always hits her? Not because she hates her but because she was raised in a disciplinarian household?

“I can wash the plates in the morning,” Veronica offers, shaking off the thought. “You don’t have to wash them yourselves. It’s just, I’m tired and-”

“Tired?” Carla raises a brow. “Enlighten me, child. What have you been up to that you are so tired at barely, 8pm? Do you think you are the first to ever go to school? Your ancestors did it too, you know. Traveled miles on foot.”

“What does that—”

“I know you weren’t studying with your friend whose number I found in the phone book,” she says casually, spearing another piece of fish.

Veronica stiffens. “Excuse me?”

Carla gives her a knowing look. “I’m not a kid, child. Whatever trick you teenagers think you have, I have mastered it before your parents were born.”

“This is so fucking ridiculous,” Veronica exhales sharply, barely restraining an eye roll.

“I sure hope he marries you.”

Veronica chokes. “Sorry?”

Carla levels her with an unblinking stare. “See, most men only want to use naive girls like you and then toss you aside when they are done sucking you dry.” Her voice drops, thick with warning. “So the one you have been with all day, I hope he plans to stay a little longer.”

Veronica’s breath catches. She pinches her shirt, raising it not her nose, taking a gentle sniff. She’s certain she showered when Kael finally left her alone. Scrubbed herself raw to erase his scent. So, how did she know?

Wait, she is a deaconess. Do deaconesses see things?

Carla smirks. “I don’t see beyond what’s before my very eyes, unfortunately.”

Veronica gapes at her.

“Like I said, I’m older than all your teenage tricks.”