Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Huxley

ISTARTTOspeak, to tell Glory that I love her, but I don’t get a single word out before Ambrose has his hands on me. He grips my shirt at the center of my chest and twists, bunching the fabric in his grip before spinning me and shoving me backward into the hallway. He slams my back against the wall across from the cage room door, and I let out an oomph as air rushes from my lungs.

“Grab your axe,” I snarl at him. “End this now.”

“Fight me.”

“What?”

“Fight me, Huxley. Fight for your life. Are you just giving up?”

“I’m not giving up. I’m giving in. I’m done with this bullshit. You were going to kill us both, anyway. At least this way, her life will be spared.”

“I’m taking her with me when you’re dead. When I have the money and my freedom from Maura, I’m taking Glory with me and I’m keeping her. I won’t ever let her be free from me.”

I have nothing to say in response to that. I have no control over what happens to her once I’m dead. I only have control over what happens right now, and right now I see him troubled and weak for her.

I knew if I could give him a solution that let him spare her life, he would spare it. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself. We all see the sick chemistry that exists between them. If I can’t stop him from finishing this deal with my mother, then at least I could save Glory’s life by sacrificing myself. And it would serve my mother right if Ambrose brought her my skull. Maybe my soul will linger with it, and I can haunt her beyond the grave.

Nausea rolls through my gut at the thought of my mother ordering my death. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t heard it myself. Though I suppose it is believable—she was a cold and distant mother. She took care of my physical needs, but that was more for her own benefit. She liked to keep up appearances. But this…To want me dead so she can bypass our names in line for the family fortune…

It’s disgusting.

It’s vile.

And I can feel my soul splinter at the knowledge.

“Then keep her,” I finally respond. “But don’t kill her. Promise me you won’t kill her. Let Glory live.”

His head jerks back and his eyes soften. “Are you giving up this easily? Fight me.”

I pause, swallowing a dry lump in my throat. His grip on my shirt loosens and slips upward, latching around my neck instead.

Fuck.

“I don’t see any other way.”

“I could kill her,” he says, dropping his voice. “I could kill her, take her and Beau’s skulls to your mother, and take you with me instead.” He comes closer, his cheek brushing mine as he moves in to whisper, “I could save you instead.”

Those words crash into me and my strength spills like a waterfall, my body relaxing into his. I’m the one who saves, not the one who is saved. No one has ever been my savior, and here he is, offering to be just that. And I’m falling for it, hook, line, and sinker. He’s toying with me and fucking with my feelings. He wouldn’t save me over her, and I would never allow that to happen, anyway.

I will always be Glory’s savior.

I put my hands against his chest and shove, causing him to release me in surprise and take a step back. “I don’t need you to save me. Grab your fucking axe.”

I turn and march for the front door so he’ll be forced to follow.

“Fuck,” he mutters behind me.

Then, I hear Glory scream, “No!” and I turn my head over my shoulder to look.

That’s when I see him coming after me with his axe in one hand, a sneer on his handsome face, and dark determination in his narrowed eyes. The sight of Ambrose marching toward me, with his large hand wrapped around the handle and the axe dangling at his side, sparks outright fear.

What the fuck am I doing?

Why didn’t I fight him?

The instinctive urge to save myself finally washes over me—I can’t for the life of me figure out where the fuck it went when he had me up against the wall. I’m being stupid, so goddamn stupid with this opportunity where I’m out of the cage without shackles, and I need to fight for my life.

He stomps toward me as I turn to face him, and I let anger take hold of me. I run at full speed and when our bodies collide, I wrap my hand around his wrist. He lifts his arm, holding the axe, my grip squeezing his wrist. But strangely, there’s no conviction in his movement, no strength as he tries to bring the axe up to swing at me…

It’s almost as if he doesn’t really want to.

I take a chance and let go of that arm, opting to throw a punch to his gut instead. He groans and stumbles back a step, the axe falling from his hand. It slams to the floor, barely missing my foot, but I ignore it.

I charge after him, bending, slamming my shoulder into his stomach, and shoving him backward at a run. His feet lift from the floor and he falls onto his back, causing me to tumble forward with him.

His hands clench into fists and swing at me as I fall on top of him. One connects painfully with the side of my face. The force of it knocks me hard and I fall sideways to the floor.

He rushes to flip over me as I blink against blackness that fades in around the edges of my eyes. His hips settle on mine, his knees squeeze in beside my waist, and his palms slam against the hardwood floor on either side of my head. My body goes still as I recover from that single, dizzying hit. Expecting another, my hands come up to protect my face, but another hit never comes.

The fury of fighting ebbs as moments of breathing pass. The black edges in my vision disappear and I come back to clarity…and all I can see is Ambrose above me.

His chest heaves and his elbows stay locked as he holds himself over me, as if he’s struggling to keep himself there. His dark hair falls in pieces to frame his eyes and I’m locked in on them as rage turns…

It slowly turns.

It devolves.

And in comes the desperation.

His head dips, as if he’s going to bend and kiss me, and I want him to.

I want him to kiss me.

I want him.

After a moment of hesitation, his lips land on mine with bruising force, and I eagerly part them. This fury, this fight, this twisted thing between us exists to supercharge our desire, and that’s exactly what it does. It changes me, makes me stupid, makes me want to get fucked by a man who was going to kill me only moments ago.

Was he really going to kill me?

As strong and powerful as he is with his lean, chiseled muscle, the way he tried to raise the axe to swing at me was weak—pathetic, really—uncommitted. And there’s nothing in this fevered kiss that tells me he wants me dead.

Captivity must have made me delusional. I know this, but it doesn’t change the lust. It doesn’t make me want him less. I’m already growing hard pinned beneath his strong body as his tongue fights mine for control.

I groan, lifting my hands to grip the sides of his face, to pull him down harder, to encourage him to sink fully into this depravity with me. And he almost does.

Too quickly, he snaps back, our mouths parting with a smack as he rears back, huffs out a heavy breath, then leaps to his feet. I sit up, prepared to fight for my life again, but he doesn’t reach for the axe, he doesn’t reach for me. He runs a trembling hand through his thick hair as he looks down at me, then shoves that same hand into his pocket.

He pulls out a key and tosses it to the floor beside me, the small piece of metal landing with a clang. “Go,” he says softly. “Take her and go. Get the fuck out of this place before we all hurt each other. I won’t hurt you anymore. I can’t. This is killing me.”

He spins away as I watch him with wide eyes, stunned from the turn of events. His hands dig into his hair, gripping and tugging as he paces, his agitation palpable.

Grab the key.

Free Glory.

Run.

The instructions rip through my mind, demanding me to act and act now. But my body hesitates to catch up, still watching him, still wanting him, still humming with need for him.

“Go. Get the fuck away from me, from this forest, this curse, this infection. This place is hell, and neither of you belong here.”

With great reluctance that I don’t quite understand, I reach for the key that landed beside my waist, push to my feet, and run back to the cage room to free Glory from this waking nightmare once and for all.