I don’t remember a time when I haven’t loved Killian and Kai isn’t going to muddy those memories for me.
“Get in the car,” Killian demands, grabbing me by the back of the neck and pushing me into the seat before slamming the door shut. I hear him exchange words with Kai as he rounds the car, but I can’t make out what they’re saying.
We drive most of the way in angry silence. It’s mutual. I’m angry at him, at Kai, and mostly at myself for still caring about someone who could treat me like I’m nothing but a filthy doll he fucks when it’s convenient for him.
When we’re turning on our street he says, “You’re a good liar. You almost had me convinced that you don’t know what you did.
“You’re ridiculous!” Before I think about what I’m doing, I’m punching Killian in the arm over and over, until I’m exhausted. In the end, the only thing I manage to accomplish is hurting my knuckles and exacerbating his already boiling temper.
He swiftly parks the car, but as I start to unhook my seatbelt he grabs both of my hands in one of his. He uses his other hand to grip my jaw.
“Don’t fucking lie to me again.” I can see the pain flash in his eyes and it cuts me deep. He really thinks I’ve done something to betray him, and that alone is like a punch to the gut.
Later that night I’m getting ready for the party the guys are hosting, and I'm thankful that Killian didn’t shackle me to the bed when he left the room and gave me some privacy to freshen up because my arm is still throbbing from the way Kai manhandled me. It’s a different kind of ache than when Killian grips my thighs and neck during sex. Everything is always just different with Killian in general and I chastise myself for feeling that way on the daily. As I make my way downstairs, I realize that there’s already crappy music blaring and smoke swirling around all levels of the mansion. I don’t know what the occasion is, but there are a lot of people already drinking, laughing, and dancing. Killian insisted that I attend, even though I’d put up a fight, asking him to let me just stay in his bedroom alone for the night. He wasn’t in the mood to argue or negotiate, and I wasn’t in the mood to get jerked around, so I conceded and he allowed me to be a little late.
I glance around the room and when I see him, he’s already watching me. My chest constricts and I hate how he has that power over me, my body reacts just by looking at him. He’s sitting in a chair and his posture is relaxed as his eyes rake over my body. I’m wearing the black dress he, less than eloquently, requested I wear tonight, and if the way his eyes darken as he takes in the way it fits my figure is any indication, he approves. Without a word, he’s up and ushering me over to the door that leads down to the basement. Instead of holding my hand, he circles his fingers around my wrist as he drags me behind him through the crowd. I see men, both older and high school students, playing poker at the same table the man Killian murdered was playing at not so long ago. The lights are dim, but I make out a beer pong set up and a corner where some men are throwing darts. There’s a blonde woman who looks old enough to be my mother dancing on the old oak bar, her dress riding up and falling down in all the wrong places.
“Shot?” A redhead with short hair and a floral maxi dress asks as she holds a shot glass out to Killian. He only grunts in response as he accepts it and swallows the liquid without so much as a wince. His shoulders are bunched and his fingers tighten around my wrist as the girl smiles at me, offering me a shot as well.
“No thanks.” I force a smile because she seems genuine, and I can see the questioning way she scans our body language.
She opens her mouth to say something that I’ll never know because Killan downs one more shot before dragging me through another room and over to a cozy area with couches. There’s an expensive looking coffee table that I’m assuming River picked out because none of the men in this house would think of adding a coffee table to finish off the room. There are bottles of alcohol lining the table and I idly wonder if they’ll be empty before the night is over. I note that I haven’t seen Kai or Desiree the entire night, and I just hope she has learned how to avoid his temper at this point.
I’m surprised when Killian pulls me down to sit on his lap, instead of next to him on the couch. He presses a hand to my lower stomach to hold me in place as he accepts another shot from a random guy I’ve seen around, but haven’t learned his name. It’s a funny position to be in. Killian’s property. Everyone here knows who I am, yet they can’t speak to me.
“Drink,” Killian says to me after taking another shot and holding a full one to my lips. I shake my head, but instead of pulling the glass away, he uses the hand that was on my stomach to grip my hair and tilt my head back. “Take it,” he demands.
I glare at him for a moment, and then flick my tongue out against the glass. “Make me,” I tell him, and I know
