CHAPTER TWELVE

DANIEL

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“We need to leave Jefferson.” I blow out a breath. “I need to get Mira away from here.”

“You will not hear me disagree.” Christian pushes his mug aside and drops back with his arms folded. “Every cell in my body has been on edge since we arrived. Kind of thought they were going to make me disappear last night when Walton picked me up. He was parked down the road, twenty minutes from town like he was just waiting for one of us. He put me in cuffs and I was damn sure that was it. Surprised as hell he only took me to jail.”

And I never would have known. Not for days after when I didn’t hear back. I would have seen his bike was gone and assumed he’d left.

“No more going out on your own,” I snap. “We stay together. I’ll hit the bank ... shit, they’re fucking closed on weekends.” I scrub a palm down over my face. “Monday, I’ll hit the bank. See what Dad owed on the mortgage. I’ll call his lawyer...” realizing once again it’s the weekend, I grunt and shake my head, “Monday and get him to send someone to look at the place. We’ll sell it. Split—”

Christian puts his hand up, stopping me. “I don’t want the money. Donate it or keep it. I don’t care, but I want nothing from that prick.”

I don’t blame him for his anger. Dad was a monster. He brutalized Mom until he pushed her into an early grave. He terrorized and tortured us until we finally escaped. Life in that house had been a nightmare. I understand not wanting any memory of it.

“Donating it sounds nice,” I decide. “We’ll get the lawyers to put the paperwork through and sell the place. Best offer. We’ll donate it to a women’s shelter.”

Christian says nothing, but there’s a deep frown furrowing his brow and turning his mouth down at the corners. The sugar packet smacks a little too hard on the table and the thin paper splits. Fine, white crystals erupt across the surface. He lets the tattered remains drop from his fingers.

“Let’s go. Now, I’m stressed about leaving Mira alone over there.”

He’s already out of his seat before I can respond. A crumpled bill is dragged from his pocket and chucked down next to the mess.

Clare glances up when we stand. Her gaze jumps hopefully to Christian, and I think she wouldn’t be that hopeful if she knew who we were. Regardless, I offer her a slight wave as we leave and make our way to the truck.

We return to the cabin in moderate silence. It sits crouched in the center of the wilderness, a dark silhouette illuminated by the hazy glow radiating from the light on the porch. The steps creak as we ascend to the door and let ourselves inside; I make a mental note to change the locks first thing. Maybe even locks for the windows, or nails to nail them shut. I add extra bright light bulbs to my list and a deadbolt. I’m almost considering bars for each of the windows, but stop myself.

A humming silence greets us. It lingers in the mute darkness pooling in every corner, held at bay by the lamp Mira must have left on for us.

I think.

My theory is only semi correct when Christian nudges my arm and motions with a jerk of his chin towards the curled bundle on the sofa.

My heart catches on a skip.

Mira half sits, half slumps against the armrest. Her eyes are closed, her breathing soft and even. A book hangs open in her lap, but her phone is in her hand like she’d been expecting a call only to doze off.

I hurry towards her, kicking myself for not texting her. We hadn’t been gone very long. But I should have known she would worry.

Careful not to wake her, I pry the items from her grasp and set them aside. She doesn’t stir until I try to tuck my hands beneath her.

Mira gives a start and jolts awake. Her eyes snap to me, wide with confusion.

“Daniel?”

I hoist her up high against my chest. “Hey, baby.”

She melts against me. Her arms looping around my neck. “You’re home.”

I crush her closer. “I’m sorry I didn’t text.”

Her face nestles into the side of my neck. “It’s okay. I was reading.” But her hold is too tight. “Christian?”

“He’s here, too.”

She yawns quietly. “Good.”

I move past Christian and up the stairs. I hold her until the very last second, when my knees bump the side of her bed.

“Help me?” she murmurs quietly, her lips hot against my skin. Against my pulse. There’s no doubt in my mind she felt it quicken. “Please, Daniel?”

Little brat knows I’d do anything for her. Anything. Even set her down on her feet and reach for the pathetic straps keeping her dress in place. My heart thumps wildly between my ribs, a desperate surge of need and panic. But my hands are steady drawing the threads over the smooth slopes of her shoulders and along her arms.

Mira watches me, sleepy eyes alert and pinned on my face. I can feel their laser focus even while mine are fixed on the neckline of her dress sliding down her chest. Over her breasts. I’ve never seen her naked. That morning in her room doesn’t count because I didn’t really see her. Not like this. Not beyond the dark outlines of her nipples through her top, this will be my first glimpse of her soft mounds.

They’re rising and falling quickly, shallow pants that match my own desperation. I almost stop when the fabric catches on her nipples. When the only thing stopping me from feasting on her perfect flesh are her sensitive, little peaks.

Christ.

I’m so fucking hard I’m ready to embarrass myself and she’s not even naked. This barely legal eighteen-year-old has me so addicted I’m ready to fall to my knees and beg her to let me taste her. I’ve had women, but not in thirty years have I ever once needed, wanted another person with every fiber and molecule of my being. So completely and painfully that I feel deranged.

Mira puts her hands over mine and pulls them down. She drags the material free. Bares herself for me.

And oh. My. God.

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

Every line is painted with teasing hints of lights and shadows. Every curve outlined. The mounds are generous globes sitting proud over a smooth belly. The nipple sharp, pink buds I am dying to touch. To tease.

To bite until she screams and wears my mark for days.

I have no memory of letting go of the dress, of my hands being free until she’s captured my wrist and brings my palm to her chest.

The panic is immediate.

I snatch my hand back, ignore her look of hurt when I take a step back.

If I touch her, even a whisper, I’ll have her on the bed. I’ll have her under me, my cock deep in her cunt. No foreplay. Not an ounce of gentleness. I’ll fuck her until I break her. Then give her to Christian and let him use her before I take my turn again, maybe even while he’s still inside her.

“Get to bed, Mi,” I growl.

I don’t wait for a response when I pivot on my heels and practically sprint for the door.

But I know it won’t make a difference. The image of her standing in a purple puddle of her dress, covered in nothing but a pair of soft, blue panties — she must have changed the ones she’d soaked through earlier — will haunt me for the rest of my life.

Christian is sitting in the armchair, Mira’s book open in his hands. His eyebrows are at his hairline, but I’m too pissed off and fucking horny to give a shit.

“Do you know what your little girl is reading?” he taunts, tilting the cover, but never taking his eyes off the page. “Fuck me, she is a little deviant.”

My brain drifts back to Mira just up a single flight of stairs, naked and wet, waiting for me to shove her face down on the mattress, hand clamped into the back of her neck as I fuck her tight ass. Her sweet cries of torment muffled in the sheets as I ruin her holes.

“Hey, are you listening?”

My annoyance spikes at the interruption of my daydream. I glare at my brother.

“What?”

He holds up the fucking book like it’s supposed to mean something. “Have you read this?”

It takes me a second to register the butterfly or moth on the bright red and orange cover.

“What about it?”

He turns it so I can see the dozens of folded corners. “This book is about a couple of stepsiblings doing a whole lot of unholy acts. I mean unholy! He stalks her. Sits outside her bedroom window to watch her fuck a dildo. He chases her with a knife, wearing a mask. Then he fucks her. He fucks her a lot. There’s one page,” he pauses to find it, “she’s at a cabin or something, and he breaks in, chases her through the woods naked.” He slaps the book shut with a smack, his eyes wide. “I learned things, Danny. Things I didn’t even...” he blows out a breath. “Do you think she wants this stuff? ‘Cuz I’ll fucking chase her. We have miles of wilderness behind us and I will ... fuck. I didn’t even know I’d be into the whole mask thing, but fuck me...”

He’s staring at the book again like he just found the meaning of life. I would have been amused; except I already knew the kind of things Mira reads. Some aren’t as discreet in the covers. Others, she gets so red in the face I can’t help picking up the book to see what had her blushing so hard. Some even had my eyes widening.

But yes, my Mira is a twisted, little thing. At least, she reads enough about them. Not sure if she would actually want to experience any of it; I’m too afraid to ask.

“Have you asked her?” Christian asks.

I shake my head. “I’m not asking.”

I don’t want to know. If she tells me she wants all those things in her books ... I’ll lose my fucking mind. I’ll never be able to control myself.

“I’m asking.”

“No, you’re fucking not!” I snap, marching around the sofa to snatch the book from him.

“Hell yes, I am. He fucks her on the handle of a knife, Daniel. I need to fucking know if Mira wants this.”

I open my mouth, but a whole other voice breaks into our argument.

“I do.”

Mira stalks down the stairs, every motion tense. Her usually sweet expression is hard and dark with anger. She’s clad in a long, white t-shirt, slender legs bared.

“I’d let him,” she snaps. “I would love a masked man to chase me through the woods and do whatever the fuck he wants with me when he catches me. I’d let him fuck me six ways to Sunday in any fucking way he wants all night.” She stomps to where I stand with her book and rips it from my numb fingers. Her glare is razor-sharp shards of glass meeting mine. “Hell, at this point, I’ll fuck just about anyone who asks.”

I’m still reeling from her sand storm of fury, her serrated confession that when she spins on her heels and charges back upstairs, I’m not quick enough to process the rest until I hear the door slam upstairs.

Christian meets my stunned expression. His mirrors mine, but with a hint of amusement.

“What did you do?”

Night vibrates around me with a stillness that eats at my nerves. My already brimming annoyance brews at a steady simmer that makes me anxious and restless.

I want to pace. To walk the house like some irritable ghost.

I want to storm into Mira’s room, tear off her covers and pin her down and fuck her until she never mentions fucking another guy again.

Christian’s caution at the diner echoes through my brain, reminding me again and again that she’ll find someone else, because of course she will. Mira is fucking beautiful. She’s smart and kind, and warm and generous. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted in my life and I have her.

Kind of.

I’m trying to protect her. I’m trying to give her time. I don’t ... I don’t want her to regret us.

Me.

I don’t want her to think I’m taking advantage of her when she’s so vulnerable.

Goddamn, I’m trying to do the right thing.

Infuriated, I kick off the sheets and sit up. I brush my hands through my hair and down over my face. I scrub hard enough to hurt and I see stars.

Maybe I should just submit. Maybe I’m fighting a losing battle. Why try when I’m going to lose her regardless?

I need a walk. It’s a stupid decision in the dark, in the woods, but maybe a pack of bears will eat me and I won’t have to worry about it anymore.

But the moment the thought crosses my mind, I know I’m an asshole. Mira would be devastated if anything happened to me. She’d fall apart and there would be no one to catch her.

God, I can’t figure this out at all.

I suck in a breath, trying to recalibrate. Maybe a shower instead. A nice cold one to freeze my balls and numb my dick.

I shove to my feet and sweep my t-shirt up and over my head. The article is chucked down on the bed. I shuffle to the door in my boxers. The board creaks under my weight. A low whine follows that has me pausing when it doesn’t come from beneath my feet but the door at the end of the hall.

Mira!

I’m at the barrier in three strides. My fingers grab the knob and twist.

And nothing.

Locked.

She locked the door!

But I can hear her soft whimpering, her jagged gasps. The sheets rustle with her thrashing.

“Mira!” I beat the door with my fist. My other hand wrenches harder at the handle. “Baby, open the door.”

My shoulder collides with the solid wood. It thumps, but remains firmly jammed.

“What’s going on?”

I hear Christian behind me, but barely; my every sense is locked on Mira’s sounds of despair. Each one twists around my chest, forming a chokehold that sends alarm bells blaring.

I don’t stop to think. I rear back and kick.

I do it twice before the barrier swings open with a crack and splinter of wood. I’m over the threshold before the door hits the dresser behind it, but all I know is I need to get to Mira. I need to protect her.

She’s three feet from the door, ashen face streaked with tears. She must have been on the way to get the lock, but I’m in. I’m in her fucking room and moving towards her, and she’s running to meet me.

I scoop her up into my arms. Her legs lock around my hips and I squeeze her as she cries softly into my shoulder.

“I got you,” I promise. “I’m here.”

She sucks in a heaving sob and tightens her hold. I can’t breathe, but I don’t need to.

“Daniel...”

“Shhh.”

I take her to the bed and pull her down without ever dislodging my hold on her. My palms rub over the hot curve of her heaving back. Her skin radiates a blistering heat that burns every part of her pressed into me. Her tears drop across my collarbone, tiny lit matches that mark my flesh.

“It’s just a dream,” I tell her. “I’m right here.”

From the corner of my eye, I can just make out Christian in the doorway, but I don’t look. I don’t take my focus off the shivering bundle in my arms.

I’m awake long after Mira finally settled down enough to drift back to sleep. Christian hovered in the doorway until I motioned for him to go back to bed. That was hours ago.

It’s not that I’m not tired. I’m exhausted, my brain hurts and I know I’m going to regret not sleeping once the sun comes up, but I’m too wired. Too scared to shut my eyes.

It hadn’t occurred to me just how deep into enemy territory we were until Christian unfolded his own fears earlier at the diner.

No one in Jefferson wants us here and they had nearly killed me and Christian once to get us out.

And I brought Mira with me.

I peer down at my baby with her face mashed into my chest and her arms and legs steel bands forged around me. The faint light from the moon is caught in her hair and the damp spikes of her lashes.

I brought her here. I put her in danger.

No matter how many times my lawyer brain tells me it would be illegal for them to hurt her, to do anything, the rational part that grew up with these people knows better. It’s seen what Jefferson mob mentality can do.

Like jump two kids on their way home with bats.

It didn’t matter that Lucy lied. It didn’t matter that we tried to explain. They wanted blood and nothing was going to quench that thirst.

I barely got Christian out of there that night. I don’t even know how I got us home. The pain had been blinding and everywhere. Chris wasn’t moving. My arm was broken, but I somehow dragged him home. I didn’t stop until I had the locks latched on the door. I woke up still in the doorway with Chris sprawled next to me.

Blood everywhere.

We were covered. It dripped from my hair and rained into my eyes. It pooled thick and red beneath Chris.

Dad was in his armchair, flipping through the channels on the TV. A beer bottle squeezed between his meaty hand.

I called to him, my voice a wispy wheeze hindered by the broken ribs.

He turned the volume up.

I realized quickly we were on our own. It was up to me to get my brother help.

Jefferson has no hospitals. There’s a clinic, but major injuries had to be taken to the Mayfield hospital four hours away.

Dad didn’t stop me from taking his car keys. He didn’t lift a finger to help when I pulled my unconscious brother to the car. But he did tell law enforcements that I was lying when I told them exactly who was responsible. Brewer denied it all, calling the men innocent and me a confused, troubled kid.

That’s the shit show I brought Mira into.

I smooth a palm over her curls. I push the strands off her cheek. I brush the satin arch with my thumb the way mom used to when we were little. Our secret, I love you.

First thing Monday, I promise. I would deal with all of this shit and get Mira as far away from this place as possible.

Four days because the weekend starts on Fridays in Jefferson. People are expected to prepare and clean and reflect for Sunday church. I have four days to protect Mira, to keep her close.

The tiny creature shifts against me. Her hips grind down my crotch and I forget all about everything, except the breathy little whine wafting across my naked chest.

I know that sound.

I know all her noises. I can recognize the sweet cadence of her voice anywhere.

But this ... this one haunts my dreams. It pulls me out of a deep sleep with a rock-hard cock and a wet pussy begging to get filled. I often wondered what she would do if I did, if I pulled out my dick, pushed aside her panties and slid home. Would she wake up? Would she ride me until we both came and wonder what the mess coming out of her cunt the rest of the day was.

Those thoughts have me throbbing. The front of my boxers are soaked with pre-cum and her.

But I’m not a monster. I don’t listen to the voices. I don’t submit. I grit my jaw and take my place high between her wide thighs, my dick against her mound.

I do hook an arm under her hips. The leverage seems to help as she claws my back and humps my lap.

Her pants are harder than usual. Even her movement isn’t its usual slow rhythm. She’s desperate and sloppy.

“Daniel...”

I tighten my hold and add pressure with my hips. It seems to help when she groans and shudders.

“I got you, baby. Cum for me,” I whisper into her ear.

She moans and arches her back. I know it’s there. I can feel her trying to reach it, but our usual way isn’t working.

“Please,” she whines, hips thrashing, heels digging into the mattress. “Please. Please.”

My heart breaks at her torment, but outside of touching her, I don’t know how to help. But if I put my hands inside her panties, we’ll be crossing a whole other line. She has not allowed that. She doesn’t even know we’re doing this much. I don’t know what she’ll do if she comes awake with my fingers pumping inside her, bringing her to climax.

Probably nothing. She might even be thrilled. But for my own sanity, I need verbal confirmation. I need her to know it’s happening and be fine with it.

I do the only thing I can think — I flip us. I put her across my chest, giving her all the space she needs to get herself off.

It seems to do the trick. Her thighs clamp around my hips as she grinds up and down my length. Her face stays in my neck as she groans my name. Her movements quicken, frantic little jerks I know mean she’s close and I have to fist the sheets to keep from fisting her ass. From grabbing the bobbing curves and pressing her down, rubbing her harder.

“Oh God, Daniel.” Her back arches and quivers, then she’s cumming and my name tangles with another. “Christian!”

My eyebrows lift even as my heart snaps hard in my chest. My cock gives a violent shudder and my hips slams up without consent from me. I’m cumming before I even realize it and my baby whines my brother’s name and drenches my soiled lap with her release.

She sobs and wheezes. Her little cunt flutters against the sticky mess in my boxers.

I have never cum like that. In the last few weeks that she’s started doing this, I just lie there afterwards with my dick in pain until I can get to a bathroom. But it’s a hot, sticky mess smeared across my skin and soaking into my shorts.

Soaking into Mira’s panties.

Fuck!

She’s got my jizz seeping through the fabric to coat her pussy.

I squeeze my eyes closed tight as my dick comes back to life with a vengeance.

Shit!

Carefully, I pull her over onto our sides. Her hold isn’t iron clad and I manage to detach myself.

I practically run from her room like the criminal I am. I dart into my room and yank my shorts off. Use it to clean the evidence of my crime and swap them for clean boxers before returning.

Mira immediately wiggles into my side when I climb in next to her. A content baby testing my sanity, still, I drag her closer and kiss the top of her head.

We have a lot to discuss once you wake up, I think, closing my eyes at last.