CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

When the door opened at ten in the morning, it wasn’t Caden. It was Yale, still in his training fatigues. I scrunched up against the headboard, pulling the blanket to cover my body. I’d put on Caden’s t-shirt when I showered off my makeup and brushed my hair out earlier. It was all I had on—my panties were ruined, and my bra disappeared at the construction site.

“What are you doing here?” I gasped.

His eyes were guard, like he knew what I’d done. “Caden asked me to bring you to his apartment.”

“But we have to be here tonight,” I protested.

He shook his head. “No one will be here tonight when the news gets out.”

My stomach dropped. “What news?”

His jaw worked. “Caden took out your father’s men. Most of them were forcibly relocated, but some of them died.”

My breathing came fast. Why had he used that word?

They hadn’t died. Caden had killed them.

A sickly wave washed over my stomach, and I pressed my hand to it. Was I responsible for this? Or was this going to happen anyway? My father had planned to do the same thing to Merrick’s soldiers, but that didn’t lessen my guilt.

I wished I’d had a choice at the beginning, but nothing could have prepared me for how much Caden would change my life in such a short time.

“Get dressed,” he said. “Let’s go. Caden’s concerned about what will happen to you when this gets out.”

I faltered. “My father won’t hurt me.”

Yale’s eyes remained hard as he backed through the door, pausing in the hall.

“I’ve seen stranger things than a father turning on his child over money,” he said. “Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

The door slammed shut. Hands shaking, mind whirling, I peeled myself out of bed. Caden had left me a pair of sweats that were too big in the bathroom. I pulled them on and gathered my hair, tying it in a messy bun on my head. Hopefully, no one would stop me in the hall.

I knocked on the door, and Yale pushed it open.

“My stuff is in my room,” I whispered.

“I got it,” he said, voice tense. “Let’s go. The car’s waiting.”

My heart was pounding as he escorted me down the hall, using his body as a shield. It was right before lunch, and the hotel was empty, everyone sleeping it off or in the dining hall. My palms were drenched, my pulse fluttering.

Something terrible had happened last night. Caden had done what he was trained to do, and my father would be devastated when he found out.

My heart twisted in my chest.

Yale kicked the door open, scanning the lot before letting me out. The sun was shining, the sky was blue. I could hear soft laughter from the patio and ice clinking against glass. It sounded like my childhood, like parties with my father and lunches at the country club.

Would I ever go back to that world?

And if I did, what did that look like? Trying to work alongside my father with Caden lurking in the background like a vengeful angel? And Delaney sitting there, having been promoted from my best friend to my stepmother?

I shuddered as I slid into the passenger side.

That sounded like hell.

We drove in silence. Everything felt too normal. The sun shone over the busy streets of Providence. I could hear children on the beach, laughing like nothing had changed. We passed by the turn off to my house, and the sunlight dappled the gravel like usual.

In the distance, I thought I heard the foundations of my perfect world collapsing.

My fingers twisted in my lap.

Yale parked around the back. He was right by my side, hand on my elbow, as we went up the stairs, like he was expecting me to make a run for it.

I wasn’t. There was no going back now.

I stepped into the apartment, and Yale dropped my bags on the floor.

“I’m locking you in and setting the security system to my phone,” he said. “I’ll be at the training center with Merrick. If anyone crosses the threshold or windows other than Caden, I’ll know right away.”

I nodded, my mouth too dry to speak. He shut the door without making eye contact, and I was alone, standing in Caden’s kitchen, in almost the same spot I’d stood when he’d gone down on his knees that first night.

My stomach churned as I went to the bathroom, flipping on the shower, and poured a glass of water. Hands shaking, I sipped it as I waited for the shower to turn warm. I had to get it together.

It helped ground me to stand under the hot water. It helped bring me back to scrub all the lies off my skin and let them swirl down the drain.

If I could have, I would skip to the end of this, the part where, somehow, I got Caden, and my father didn’t cut me out.

My heart ached. Tears slipped hot down my cheeks and mingled with the water.

Around noon, I managed to drag myself from the shower, dry off and put on one of Caden’s shirts before I crawled into his bed. It smelled like him, and there were still little stains from when he’d fucked me. The silky, expensive sheets were rumpled. I’d never understood that part about him. He was so particular, but then he’d go days without making his bed.

I rolled onto my bed, smiling despite my swollen eyes. I burrowed my face into his pillow and inhaled the smell of him, resting in the indent of his body on his side as I let my eyes close.

It was dark when I woke, and there was someone in the doorway. Heart pounding and sweat breaking out on my back, I blinked into the dark. Slowly, my eyes adjusted, and my stomach turned.

Caden stood in the entrance, in his boots and fatigues. His hair was matted, clotted with blood that streaked down his face and drenched his hands to the elbows. In one hand, he held his pistol. In the other, a flat box.

“Caden,” I whispered.

He cleared his throat. “Circe.”

My head spun. Maybe I wasn’t as strong as I’d hoped, because the sight of blood was making me dizzy.

“Are you hurt?” I gasped.

He shook his head, stepping into the room and laying the gun on the dresser.

“It’s not my blood.”

He took another step, and the light from downtown Providence fell through the window and illuminated him. Something was different, not just that he was covered in sweat and blood and dirt.

He was taller somehow. His shoulders were straighter.

“My father is the Brenin,” he said thoughtfully. “I am the Welsh Prince, but I’ll never follow in his footsteps. I was never meant to be king.”

I licked my dry lips. “What does that mean?” I whispered.

“Stand up, Circe,” he ordered.

Legs wobbly, I obeyed. He set the box aside and pulled his t-shirt over my body, letting it fall to the floor between us with a soft thump. His eyes roved over my naked body, as if he’d never seen it before.

“I am the kingmaker,” he said quietly. “In a way, I went through the arena. I paid my dues. I did my time. I spilled my blood. Now, it’s time for me to mold the next king.”

I wasn’t really sure what he was talking about, but I could tell this was a pivotal moment for him. His restless, dark energy was still, like the smooth surface of a lake at dawn. He’s always had an edge of chaos. I’d felt it from the moment I met him. But tonight, it was gone.

He was quiet. Focused.

Deadly calm.

His crimson hand lifted and touched my neck. The metallic scent of dried blood reached my nose, and my knees wobbled.

“I don’t understand,” I managed.

“You don’t have to understand,” he said. “All you need to know is that I’ve been searching for a long time, and now, I’m done.”

Desperately, I wished I had his assurance, but I’d done this to myself. I’d chosen to betray my father for Caden, and now, my future was uncertain. My hands shook as I reached out and gripped his wrist.

“Do you still love me?” I whispered.

He released me, his eyes down, and picked up the box. The top snapped open to reveal a full set of amethyst and diamond jewelry—a bracelet, a necklace, an anklet, a little gemstone with a clip, and a ring with a stone that was easily three carats. My stomach did a somersault as my throat bobbed, trying to swallow.

“What is that?” I asked.

His fingers, dirty and stained with blood, lifted the bracelet. “In our organization, women are offered a set of jewelry. They accept it piece by piece until the final part. At the end, they’re formally engaged.”

“What…what?”

“You heard me, Circe.”

My mouth hung open, and it took me a full minute to collect myself.

“Are you proposing to me?”

His gaze snapped up, and he took my wrist, clipping the bracelet one handed onto me.

“No,” he said. “I think we’re beyond proposing.”

He fastened the necklace around my throat, adjusting it to hang between my breasts. The ring slid over my finger, exactly my size. Then, he knelt, and I felt his fingers between my thighs. My head fell back as he unfastened the stone there and replaced it with his own.

“You are mine, Circe,” he said quietly.

I stared down at my naked body, covered in diamonds and little smears of blood and filth from his hands. Shock ebbed through my chest, through my body to the soles of my feet.

I’d fucked around, and now I was reaping the consequences.

“Caden,” I said, my voice hoarse, disembodied. “How can you still want me? I betrayed you…or, at least, I almost did.”

He stepped back, pointing out into the kitchen.

“The head of your father’s commander is in a box,” he said. “I’m about to hand deliver it to him tonight. How can you still love me?”

My knees gave way, and I sank to sit on the bed. Nausea washed over me, and my hands started shaking like I was in a strong wind. I was going to pass out or throw up.

“This is messy for both of us,” he said.

“Caden,” I cried. “I can’t do this.”

He was on his knees at my feet in an instant, gathering my hands and pressing them to his chest. Through my tears, I could make out the glitter of his cobalt gaze, and the emotion in it stopped me short.

“Circe,” he whispered. “Let me love you, no matter what. If there was no place to love you but a temple that never existed, in a place we can never go, I would wait there. I’d love you there. Do you see why I have to have you?”

My hands came around his neck, and he laid his head in my lap.

“I love you,” I said, throat catching. “And I think I love this part of you too, even if it scares me.”

He looked up at me, my hair brushing his face. “Say you’re mine then.”

“I’m yours.”

I’d never been so sure of anything except the new understanding that no one would ever love me harder than this man. He didn’t do things by halves. He wasn’t going to give up and walk out when things got hard. No, he’d taken that hit on the chin, strapped on his weapons, and cleaned up the mess.

Then, he’d come back to me and staked his claim.

“Say it the way I want to hear it,” he ordered.

I hiccupped, wiping my face. “I want to be your wife.”

He bent in and kissed my mouth, tasting of triumph and a deep hunger that excited and scared me. For a moment, I wondered why I felt fear, and then it hit me.

He was the first choice I’d made in my life. The first real choice, without anyone pushing me or assuming they already knew what I’d pick. Everything up until now had been chosen by my father, my therapists, my tutors, my business partners.

I pulled back. His lids had dropped, his eyes still distracted by my mouth.

“My eyes are up here,” I whispered.

The corner of his mouth curled. “I know where your eyes are. They’re very distracting…like the rest of you.”

I parted my lips to tell him everything I’d been thinking. That he’d made me brave enough to stand up for myself. That I’d never met anyone like him. That I wanted to keep feeling the way I did right now, in his arms, forever.

Instead, I just brushed the wetness from my cheek. “You should really get cleaned up.”