I move toward him again, his name a plea on my lips. Dane grabs my hand, pulling me back while Maddox steps between us. “You really do need to go, Heaven,” he tells me with so much frustration on his face.
I look over my shoulder to Dane who gives me a tight nod, agreeing with Maddox. Angel shoves my things at me. “Here,” he growls. I’ve never met him, but his protectiveness over Ryder is undeniable.
“Maybe we should go too,” Rachelle volunteers.
Ryder’s head snaps in her direction. A wicked smirk plays across his lips, and my stomach sinks. “You stay,” he orders.
“I’m her ride,” she jerks her head toward me.
“She can call someone else.”
Maddox nods at me, telling me to do it. I retrieve my phone with shaky hands and a battered soul. Thankfully, Delilah answers on the first ring. “Can you come get me?” She tells me shecan, and I text the address.
“You can wait by the door,” Dane tells me as he releases my arm.
I look toward Ryder one last time. A shiver escapes me as a cold chill erupts over my skin. The look he gives me sends fear to the pit of my stomach.
Then I watch as he grabs Rachelle and Miranda, escorting them to the stairs. Rachelle gives me a sympathetic look that’s as genuine as her boobs. She’s excited at the prospect of being with him. It sends bile up my throat.
Before he reaches the stairs, he turns to me. Hope threatens to grow for a moment until he speaks. “I’m going to see my son.”
I nod rapidly. “Of course, you will. We will figure something out.”
“I wasn’t asking permission. I was giving you a warning. You’ve kept him from me for too long. You don’t get to call the shots anymore.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond before he’s moving up the stairs. Panic is mild in comparison to what I’m feeling. Because with those words, myentire world just exploded.
Ryder
Freak on a Leash
My hands fist the red head’s hair tightly as I punish her mouth. Saliva and tears mix as she struggles to take me in. Even though I don’t want to, I ask if she wants me to stop. When she says no, I make a note to make it worth her while.
Although, Maddox may be doing that if her moans are any sign.
A few more thrusts and she screams as he roars.
I’m nowhere near finished. I see no end in sight. I even chose her because her red hair reminds me of the one I want to punish, hoping to find some relief and a release.
Finally, I realize I’m hurting her beyond what’s pleasurable and proper. I release her with a growl of frustration. At least she seems satisfied.
I begin pacing the room like a caged animal. My emotions are all over and I’m desperate to find that control again. The moment I saw her my control began to waiver. She always did have that effect on me.
I wanted to hurt her like she hurt me. But she was already hurting. The moment she realized how wrong she’d been to listen to my mother, she crumbled. I didn’t need to hurt her. She’d hurt herself.
I felt my resolve falter when I saw her fall in on herself near panic. I wanted to scoop her up and take away her tears. Then I would punish her for her decisions, for hurting us both until I made her scream out my name in pleasure.
But the control, that thread I was hanging on by, snapped when truths came tumbling out. In that instant, for far more than a flash, I wanted to hurt her in other ways. Not emotionally, mentally, and definitely not pleasurably. In that second, I really did want to hurt her.
That scared the fuck out of me.
But this feeling in my chest weighs heavy. The hole has grown andexpanded,and those jagged edges are flared angrily, raw and festering. I’m angry. I’m so angry that I can barely see straight.
For nine years, I have believed the baby I never met was taken from me before I had a chance to meet him. Just like Rayna. By a cruel, heartless, and unfeeling woman who was supposed to love us. By the girl I gave my tattered heart to.
I was right. He had been taken from me, but in so many ways, the truth is so much worse. Because he’s been right here, just over two hours away from the very city where he was made. I never had to grieve. I never had to feel this sense of failure and guilt of not being able to save him.
My skin crawls, tightening and itching with something I can’t remove. Emotions I don’t want to feel threaten to take hold. I push them aside in favor of the anger. Anger I’ve felt my entire life. I can handle the anger. I can’t handle the rest. Everything else only invites more pain.
