“I can’t believe he fucking did that. I don’t know about him. That’s not the fuck…” Bishop yanks the mask off his face, throwing it across the ground. I take that as my cue to finally be able to remove mine, so I do.
“Why? What’s wrong with him saying something?”
Brantley is quiet beside Bishop. Nate is pacing back and forth like a caged lion. I look to Brantley. “Why?”
He seems to think over what he’s going to say, that same blank look on his face. “Because now that it’s common knowledge of you being alive as a Stuprum, remember that no one knew about Peyton, even before we found out she wasn’t a biological daughter, you will be hunted, chased, and caged until you are able to claim your given birthright.”
I fling my hands in the air. “I don’t want to run this fucking island!”
Tillie
“No,” I shake my head. Now my heart is slamming against my chest and sweat is trickling down my face. “This is the twenty-first century! You guys cannot walk around in your own little community and think that what you do is okay!”
Nate snatches the keys off the young boy, and it’s then that my eyes come to his. I recognize the empty pits that summon me with a simple glare. I exhale, just as Nate opens the passenger door. “You’re a Lost Boy.”
Nate shoves me in the car, slamming the door and then getting into the driver’s seat. He skids out of the driveway, the burned rubber flying up with the smoke.
“Nate! Slow down.”
He doesn’t answer, his jaw is working on overtime as his eyes stay on the road.
“Nate!”
He drops down to third and floors it forward until we’re pulling into our house. He gets out of the car, runs up the stairs to the front door and points to the pool house. “Get in the room, lock the door, and don’t open it unless it’s me, my mom, or Joseph.”
“Okay,” I nod, and then quickly jog to the pool house. I know when to question him and when not to. Right now is not the time.
Five minutes pass and I’ve already changed out of my dress and into some loose grey sweatpants and a white tank when there’s a knock on the door. I peek through the blinds and see it’s Nate carrying Micaela before quickly unlocking the door and letting him in.
She’s asleep, cradled in his arms. He goes straight for the crib and gently places her inside. Hitting on the main light switch, I wait for him to say something. Anything.
He takes his mask off and removes his bow tie. “Tomorrow. We’re leaving.”
“Leaving to where?” I ask, afraid of the next thing he’s going to say.
“Leaving this shit. I can’t keep you and her safe if we stay in New York. Shit has changed.”
I sigh, taking a seat on the bed. “Nate, I’ll just say no…”
He laughs sardonically. “You can’t say no, Tillie. You don’t have an option.”
“Well, we can’t run!” I shout, exhausted. “I refuse to give her that life.”
His eyes go to the crib. “You have no idea the type of shit that this world does, Tillie. Bishop has always pussyfooted around Madison when it comes down to it, giving her half-truths.” His eyes come to mine, and it’s the first time I have ever seen fear. It’s there, roaring to the surface in the rawest form known to mankind. It hurts that it’s Nate emanating it. “I won’t lie to you. I won’t hide shit from you, mainly because I know you can handle it and also because that’s just not me. So I’ll tell you now, Tillie, they would hurt Micaela. They would drown her like they have all the others.”
Unable to have enough time to wrap my head around the cruel words he just spoke, I say the first thing that pops into my head. “But she’s not a swan, why would they hurt her?”
He shakes his head. “You don’t get it. They would do that to get to you, and I can’t have that.”
I exhale, standing to peek down at her sleeping with the angels. Her chest rises and falls, her beautiful long lashes fanning out against her cheeks. “I don’t think we should run. I think we should sleep and think about it tomorrow. Your mom, Hector even, I feel like there’s more to why he did this tonight. Not just to ‘out’ me. There’s another reason. A reason why your dad was there too, Nate. You’re being irrational.”
I make my way toward where he’s sitting on the bed, stepping between his legs. My hands come to his face, tilting it up to look at me. He looks so vulnerable like this, with me here and him there. It gives me a sense of power. The same reaction I felt earlier tonight washes back over me in a second wave, only this time I’m swimming in lust.
“I want to make you feel better,” I whisper, tracing my finger over his lip. Leaning down, I kiss him softly. I stand back up, removing my shirt and throwing it across the room. “Let me make you feel better.” I watch as his gaze fades from worried, to feral, they drop down from my face to my breasts.
He doesn’t touch me, he stays where he is and growls. “Remove the pants.”
I abide, my thumbs hooking inside the waistband of my panties to wriggle them down. I stand naked in front of him, waiting, wanting, needing him to touch me. Touch me in ways he has never touched me before. I reach for the button of his shirt and flick them off, his bare chest sprawling out in front of me. Tracing my fingers over the two large wings across his chest, I want to ask him what they mean, but I’m too afraid it will break the mood, so my hands come up to his shoulders where I push his shirt down
