29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Noelle

Ijolt at his voice. A voice I’ve longed for the last few months. A voice I wished I’d never hear again. My emotions for the three men I left behind are turbulent: fear, anger, love, compassion, and hope, all colliding and fighting for domination.

“What are you doing here?”

Lorne’s hand grips my throat, pushing me back so I’m peering up at him. “We’ve been searching for you, Snow. The hunt for happiness led me to you.”

I thought I’d moved on, put the past and the three men who haunt my dreams behind me. But as I stare into his emerald green eyes, I realize I was lying to myself. “Did you consider that I didn’t want to be found?”

“Belongings don’t get a say about where they’re placed. You, my pretty little Snow, belong with us.”

“I crossed the Atlantic to get away from you.”

“You can hide, and we will seek. You can run, and we will chase. There isn’t a place on earth where you don’t belong to us.”

“That’s the problem. You want ownership. I’m not chattel. You can’t buy me. I’m a human being.”

“This isn’t a one-way transaction. We also belong to you. I don’t put a lot of faith in superstition or things I can’t see, but I’m sure about this. I’m sure about us.”

Lorne releases my neck, and I immediately miss his touch. I can’t explain my emotions, even to myself. Perhaps I’m too scared. “I like the simplicity of my life here in Paris. I’m not Edward White’s daughter. I’m not Lorne Miller’s plaything. I’m not Declan Bridges’ damnation, and I’m not Caspian Charming’s target.”

“You’re also not Edward White’s joy, Lorne Miller’s heart, Declan Bridges’ Salvation, and Caspian Charming’s aim. Snow, if you want to live in France, we’ll move here.”

“You can’t pack up and leave. It’s a complicated life in the syndicate.”

Lorne laughs. “Our Daddy can take care of business back home.”

My head snaps up and I glare at him.

“I was sad not to see you at the wedding, sis.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“You’re wrong.” Lorne slides into the pew beside me. A ring of smoke floats from his mouth into the cathedral before it morphs and disperses. “Praying for someone to come save you from the sinners?”

“You can’t smoke in here. It’s the house of God.”

He laughs, his eyes on the cross before us, and the depiction of Jesus crucified on it. “If sky daddy didn’t want me to get the vice, maybe he shouldn’t have created it.”

“Seriously, what’s your problem with faith? It’s not like it’s hurting anyone.”

“Correction, Snow. It hurts everyone. If it was a benevolent thing someone did and kept to themselves, I wouldn’t have a problem. But it’s not. Organized religion is used to coerce, pervert and maintain a vacuum for the sheep. Bow your head and keep praying while those with power hurt you. I’m not willing to be a lamb for them to slaughter.”

“I’m not hurting anyone!” I scream.

My voice echoes through the cathedral. I’m frustrated. Not in Lorne’s lack of belief. I don’t care about that because, unlike Declan, my view of God is good. God isn’t vengeful to me. God is patient, forgiving, and, most of all, loving.

“Correction again. You’re hurting yourself with the notion there will be a guiding light from fantasy. May as well be on your knees asking for dragons to come save you.” He smirks, draping his arm around my shoulder before he brings his lips to my ear. “I like the idea of fucking you here. I promise to show you heaven.”

What is it about this man? He doesn’t even have to touch me, and I’m instantly aroused. Three months in Paris and I couldn’t get excited by any guy here, but all Lorne has to do is exist and I’m gushing like Niagara. “I hate you.”

"Snow, you don’t hate me. You hate that your pretty pink cunt is gushing for me.”

“That’s what I hate the most, that my body wants to bend for you, leaving my heart tattered on the ground. You have women throwing themselves at you. Go fuck one of them and leave me in peace. I don’t want your head games and mind-blowing sex. I want something more.”

“Women may throw themselves at me, but you’re the only woman who’ll ever have me. I know we call you a cum dump, but we don’t mean it. It’s all part of the sex play. Part of our devotion to you, because you’re fuckin’ everything, Snow. You’re not a fuck. You’re life itself.”

I want to believe him so badly. To know without a doubt that he means it. That he truly cares for me. “If I mattered that much, you’d open up to me. You only want to give me bits and piece with the mind-blowing sex.”

“The sex is pretty fucking spectacular, isn’t it?”

“A relationship can’t survive on sex alone. I need more.”

Lorne remains silent, his eyes on the altar. “What do you want to know?”

“For starters, why do you have those burn marks on your skin? Why does Cas hurt himself and why is Declan in so much pain?”

He nods. “I can only give you one of those three. It’s not as horrifying as the other two tales you seek, but it’s my truth, and I can only share my story.” He pauses to draw a breath. “I killed my dad and took his power. But I didn’t kill him for his position in life. I killed him because of who he was. My father enjoyed two things: fire and children, and both were for twisted reasons. My father was a pedophile. He ran one of the biggest sex rings on the planet because he craved children and wanted to make sure he had a steady supply.”

My emotions are like a light switch; on for anger and off for sad. I want to dig up Angelo Miller’s grave and burn him up all over again. But I’m also heartbroken because I can sense where this is going.

“He liked to get me to burn the kids. It turned him on. That’s how I met Cas.”

Tears spring down my face in waves. My boys. My beautiful boys.

Lorne laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Cas was probably his biggest mistake. He was the one who gave me courage. He bit my father’s dick off and spat it in his face. Angelo didn’t know what hit him. He screamed at me to get someone, but Cas just looked at me and calmly asked if I had any accelerant.”

“Lorne.” My voice emerges as a strangled whisper.

He grips my wrist as I lift my hand to his face and growls, “Don’t do that. Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m not helpless. I went through shit. Everyone goes through shit. Two people I love more than life have gone through much worse.”

“I don’t pity you, Lorne. I want to comfort you because I care about you. I’m glad you killed him. Did … Did he ever touch you?”

“Did he fuck me? No. I was there to torture. He made me watch. I’d get hard, and I assumed I was a sick fuck like him. Cas was the first kid he tried to get me to burn. He liked to burn me while he made the other kids”—his Adam’s apple bobs as he pushes his palms into his eyes—“do things. Horrible things.”

I want to hug him, to cradle him in my arms and love him. To show him he deserves better.

“Sometimes, he’d put me in a choke hold and cut off my airway. Occasionally, I’d pass out. But the worst part was that I thought I liked it. It wasn’t until Cas that I understood my physical reaction didn’t constitute consent.”

Suddenly, he jumps off the pew bench, his expression distraught. “Jesus! Fuck! Did we rape you?”

He falls to his knees in front of me, his head buried in my lap. “I’m sorry, Snow. I’m so sorry. We have a hard time with it all. We can’t grasp what’s okay and isn’t. But you were making it better. I could see it. The fucked up thing is that I can’t even promise it won’t happen again. Jesus, no wonder you ran away.”

“Don’t apologize for something you don’t believe you did wrong. You can sit here and say sorry, but you don’t mean it. The truth is, I didn’t say no then and I won’t now. Or ever.”

He rises, his gaze searching mine. “I need you.” The words are full of longing and desperation.

He grabs my nape and tugs me to the floor. My hands work as if on autopilot, unbuckling his belt and lowering the zipper of his navy wool dress pants to unleash his mammoth cock.

He grips his girth with one hand, slapping me in the face with it. “Be a good girl for your new brother and open wide.”

This is obscene. We’re in a place of worship. This is sacrilegious and wrong in so many ways. But I want it. I want him to know that I want it. That he isn’t a monster to me. He’s something more, something better. My lips part and the taste of pre-cum lands on my tongue before he forces his entire cock into my mouth.

“Well, what do we have here?”

I’m startled by Cas’s voice. I try to pull away from Lorne, but I can’t because his hand is at the back of my head, pushing my nose against his pelvis. The tip of his cock is down my esophagus, and I can’t breathe. He’s going to kill me. I left and people don’t leave men like him. This is his retribution.

“Just showing our sweet little Snow what happens when she’s a bad girl and runs from us.”

From the corner of my eye, I watch Cas. He’s holding a knife. The edge of the blade shimmers and he’s smiling. But it’s not his usual cocky smirk. He looks sinister, like he’s done playing games, and is on a mission.

“Hello, Sunshine. Miss me?”