35. Take Back The Life He Stole

35

Take Back The Life He Stole

Teal

I take a step back, and my bare foot slides against the wet paint on my canvas, but Declan won’t release my hands, so I can’t escape.

“Why is he here?” It’s nearly a whisper as my gaze snaps to Declan. “Why are you doing this?”

Declan steps toward me, cupping my jaw with one hand. “I need you to trust me, Teal. Remember what I said: I will always protect you. He can’t hurt you anymore. I promise.”

“No…” Words choke in my throat. “He…”

“Tealene, look at me.” Declan grabs the sides of my face and forces my eyes to his. “Do you trust me to protect you?”

My throat feels like needles when I try to swallow. “I—I think so. ”

“Then let me give you this. Let me prove it to you.” Declan grazes a thumb over the apple of my cheek, and it’s almost comforting when nothing about this situation is. “Let me do what your father should have done for you.”

Tears sting my eyes. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m giving you a choice.”

I swallow hard. “To decide if he dies?”

“No.” Declan shakes his head slowly. “He lost that chance the moment he put his hands on you. He’s not walking out of this room, Tealene. You know that.”

I do, and I should be terrified. But I’m not.

“Then what am I deciding?”

Declan steps back, releasing me, and this time I don’t move. I watch as he reaches behind his back and pulls out a knife.

“You need to decide if you want to be the one to take back the life he stole from you or if you want me to do it.” He holds the handle out to me.

My gaze moves from Declan to the knife, and I’m frozen. From the corner of my eye, I see the blurry figures of Maddox and Asher moving. They’re dragging an only semiconscious Weston to a chair on the other side of the room and tying his arms and legs to it. There’s a gag in his mouth so he can’t speak, but when I look up, his eyes are on me.

Eyes I remember haunting me in the middle of the night.

Eyes that made me fear the touch of a person until Declan showed me that I could trust the right hands on me .

“You want to make art, Tealene?” Declan asks, still holding the knife out for me. “You want to set your demons free? This is your chance.”

I nod, reaching for the knife. The wooden handle is warm and solid. The moment I wrap my fingers around it, Weston starts struggling in his chair.

“Good girl.” He circles around me, coming to stand behind me and guiding me across the room. “Maddox, Asher, leave us.”

I don’t know if he demands it so there aren’t witnesses, but they don’t question him as they make their way out, closing the studio door behind them.

Weston’s eyes are wide. His gray hair is messy and drenched in sweat. He’s older than I remember, but it’s been three years since I’ve seen him.

“Where did you find him?” I ask Declan.

“Seattle.” Declan rubs my arm. “Running one of your father’s shell corporations.”

All this time has passed, and my father still did nothing to protect me. He knew what Weston did, and he ignored it. Worse, he’s profiting from their friendship.

I reach the knife out, digging the tip into the center of Weston’s chest as he wrestles against the restraints. He can’t move from how he’s tied down, and I try not to think about how disturbing it is that Maddox and Asher know how to do that.

Declan rubs my arms, kissing the top of my head. “Do you have anything you want to say to him? ”

“I—” I choke on my words as tears stream down my cheeks, and I feel like I’m floating outside my body. “I remember you. What you did. What you stole.”

The words come out between sobs, but I swallow them down because he doesn’t deserve them.

“You took everything from me.”

I dig the knife in deeper, and blood drips down Weston’s chest. The room spins and flips around. I’m lightheaded and can’t catch my breath. I’m standing still, but my chest heaves like I’m hyperventilating.

“I can’t.” I shake my head. “I can’t.”

Closing my eyes, I can’t even look at Weston without every nightmare from my childhood rushing back.

“It’s okay.” Declan reaches around me.

The warmth of his body envelopes me as he presses his chest to my back. His chin rests on top of my head, and his hand rests over mine on the handle.

I release the knife, and Declan takes it.

Declan holds one hand over my stomach while the other holds the knife, and when I open my eyes, I see that Weston’s expression has relaxed like he thinks this is over.

It isn’t.

Declan isn’t here to save anyone.

He’s my villain.

He’s my monster.

He’s mine.

“You remember what I said?” He kisses the top of my head.

“I remember. ”

Declan moves so fast that I don’t have time to process it. It’s not until blood starts dripping down Weston’s throat that I fully comprehend what he’s done. In one swift move, Declan sliced Weston’s neck through to his vocal cords.

I watch as my godfather struggles to hold on. As he fights for air. I watch the life he took from me slip away until there’s only silence. And all that’s left is me, my slayed demons, and the man who rectified my pain, holding a bloody knife in his hand.

“He won’t hurt you again. And you needed to see that. To know it. So there could be no more questioning it, and no more fear.”

I plant my hand over Declan’s on my stomach, and I believe him. He didn’t bring my godfather here to taunt me with the past; he did it for closure. So I would know, without a doubt, that I was safe.

“Nothing bad is going to happen to you ever again.” Declan drops the knife to the ground, and his words are whispered promises in my ear. “You’re mine, Teal. And I will protect you from the devil himself if I need to.”

The air in the room lifts, and my fear dissipates. While anyone else might fear Declan for what he’s done, I’m relieved.

I embrace this sickness that lives in both of us and spin in Declan’s arms, pulling him down for a kiss. His mouth slams to mine, and he’s everything bad for me—a bully and a manipulator. But he’s also everything good. My protector and the one person who has always seen me for who I am without wanting to change me .

“Thank you,” I mumble against his mouth as he picks me up.

He sinks his teeth into my lower lip and carries me to the center of the room, sinking to his knees and laying me flat on my canvas. Paint sticks to my hair and clothes, but I don’t care. I need this man who will fight for me. Who will sin for me. Who will turn on the House for me.

Declan tips my jaw back and kisses a path down my neck.

“Is it crazy if I’m thanking you for killing someone?”

“Stop calling yourself crazy.” Declan nips at my throat. “You’re perfect.”

“I’m far from perfect.” I can’t help arguing with him, even as he kneels between my legs and strips off my shirt. “And right now, I’m a mess in every way.”

His gaze roves over my paint-splattered skin. “You’re my masterpiece.”

He dips down, tugging one of my nipples between his teeth, and my back arches on a moan when he bites harder.

He moves to the other nipple, teasing it, as his fingers work the buttons on my shorts. He pulls back to strip them off with my underwear so I’m naked and stretched across the canvas beneath him.

“That’s better.” He grins, grazing his hands down the insides of my thighs.

“My painting is a mess now.” I quirk an eyebrow as he drags more paint over my skin.

“Just how I like it. ”

Declan reaches over to one of the paint cans, pulling the mixing stick out of it so he can drip the blue paint along the canvas until he reaches me. He lets it dribble over my stomach before moving it to the other side.

“What are you doing?” I ask as the cool paint dribbles on my breasts.

He lowers the stick to drag it across my skin, tracing lines and tossing it to the side again. “I’m making art with you so we can remember this moment.”

“This was supposed to be a self-portrait,” I tell him. “You just changed it.”

“Good.” He reaches for his belt, undoing his pants. “Now it can be us .”

Us .

Pulling his pants down in the front, he releases his cock, sliding it over me. Teasing me until I lift my hips and seek him out.

“Please, Declan.”

“What do you need, love?” He nudges his cock against me, and the change in nickname has my core fluttering.

“You,” I admit. “I need you.”

His cool eyes gleam, and he drops his gaze to watch as he thrusts his hips forward, connecting us as one.

Declan pulls out slowly, his cock glistening with my excitement. He tortures me with a slow pace before thrusting back in.

“Declan,” I moan.

He lowers over me, striking me deep as he sinks his lips to mine. “That’s right, love, you’re mine. ”

My hands slide up into his hair, painting it in colors like my own. I drag them down his T-shirt and strip it off so I can see the proof of what we are.

Eternal .

I thought only death held that title. Darkness, sadness, and emptiness.

It turns out it’s what Declan is to me. He’s the singular force I can’t escape.

He kisses me, fucking me hard into the canvas, and I can barely hold on as I sink my teeth into his lower lip, not stopping until I taste blood. Even then, I can’t help sucking on him harder, taking him in every way I can.

“You like that?” He grins, pulling back to wipe his bloody lip with the back of his hand. “You want to hurt me like I hurt you?”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Declan dips down, kissing my neck. “You want to paint our love in red? Then we will.”

He sinks his teeth into the side of my neck, breaking skin. Licking a path of blood until he moves all the way up to my lips and forces me to taste both of us mixed together.

“I’m yours, Teal. And if you want to take a knife to my chest to slice me open and play with my heart, I’ll let you.” He kisses me deeper.

He fucks me harder.

The tang of blood in my mouth makes my head spin. Pulling back, he wraps his hand around my throat and pins me to the canvas. This is sick with my demons still in the room, but I ignore them as I hand myself over to Declan. He slayed my evil, and I want to give myself to him fully.

It’s sick and twisted as he kneels over me and fucks me after what we’ve done. But I don’t care.

Blood, paint, and love swirl together, and I become one with him.

“You’re beautiful.” He thrusts forward, tightening his grip on my throat. “The most gorgeous creature I’ve ever seen.”

People would probably judge us for the twisted things that get us off, but Declan meets me here, fucking me harder and knowing I love it.

“I’m yours, Teal. Blood, body, and soul.”

“I know.” I wrap my legs around him, but he stays kneeling, watching where he’s fucking me.

And I come so hard my nails break the skin on his forearms because I’m holding on for dear life.

Life .

The one he makes me want to live.

Declan’s thrusts get uneven, and just as he’s about to come, he pulls out, grabbing his cock with his paint-covered hand and shooting cum all over my pussy and stomach. He makes art of us. And as the last rope of cum decorates my skin, he sinks back on his heels to admire what he’s made.

“Look at me,” he commands.

And I listen, my gaze snapping to his.

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone to memorialize the moment. He could use this against me, but I don’t care. I tip my knees wider and let him see me through the lens only he can. An image that would be the greatest form of blackmail, and I trust the devil to have it.

My devil.

Because, like he said—like the letters carved in his chest—this is us. Endless. Timeless. Souls that seek each other out perpetually, through good and bad.

Forever.