For a long, silent moment, they stare at each other. I’m almost certain Darius is about to pull a gun when he turns his body to face his brother fully. The tension in the air is thick with deadly intent. Two alphas in one room have far too much testosterone swirling around.
Then Darius nods. “Fine.” He glances at me and points at the chair at the head of the table. “Sit.” When I don’t obey as quickly as he’d like, he shoves me into the seat, my ass hitting the leather, forcing a whoosh of breath from my lungs.
“If you so much as put another hand on her again, I will rip you limb from fucking limb,” Lycan threatens, moving toward the chair where I’m currently being held prisoner. He reaches his brother, they’re toe to toe, and if I thought there was violence in the air earlier, I had no fucking clue.
Darius lifts his hand from my shoulder, a smirk curling his lips as he challenges Lycan’s strength. Lycan’s still hurt. Still healing. He shouldn’t be fighting a battle while he could relapse at any moment.
“Leave them be,” Darius orders, and his men stand, the chairs screeching against the wooden paneled flooring, as they make their way out of the room. When it’s only Kahn, Lycan, and I, I release a breath I’ve been holding since Darius and Lycan were inches from each other.
“Are you okay?” Lycan questions, his hands on my shoulders ground me to the moment, and I allow more tears to fall. “Did he hurt you?”
“No,” I mumble. The guilt of kissing his brother eats away at me, and I want to confess, but I’m fearful of him leaving me with Darius. However, there is something else I don’t want to acknowledge—my feelings for the older Shaw brother.
11
Lycan
To say I’m angry would be an understatement. More like jealousy raging a war inside me. My brother and I have always vied for the same woman. It is just in our fucking genetics. But this time, I’ve laid a claim. There’s a ring that weighs heavily on her finger, which means she’s mine.
Seeing my woman, my fucking wife, be used as pawn doesn’t sit well with me. If she’s hurt, I’m the one to hurt her because with that she’ll also find pleasure. But then, I also know how Darius enjoys the humiliation, and that Scarlett may find pleasure in it too. Even if she doesn’t want to, her body and mind is synchronized to crave the darkness.
She said so herself.
“You should be in the hospital,” she murmurs, her lips against mine as she speaks the words, and it sends heat coursing through me. She’s right, but I don’t tell her that, instead I stare at her. I can’t stop looking at Scarlett Bardot.
How can I love the woman who’s my enemy’s daughter?
I’m not sure, but I do.
“I need to know what he did to you. I want the truth, little red,” I whisper, my tongue darting out to tease her lips, to taste her flavor that I’ve missed. Even though it hasn’t been that long, I still can’t believe how my body missed hers.
“He kissed me, just before you arrived,” she finally admits, a sigh tumbling from her lips. “I didn’t mean to… I couldn’t…” She shakes her head sadly, her eyes shimmering with tears, and I realize I don’t want to see them fall. Seeing her upset makes my chest tighten in a strange way, which I’ve never experienced before.
“Don’t,” I tell her, cupping her face, holding her steady so she doesn’t turn away from me. “Don’t think about it. You’re mine.” I pull her closer, my lips claiming hers, hoping that with the kiss, I’ll eliminate any doubt she’s had about Darius taking advantage.
I knew he would.
And I’m going to kill him for even thinking he can break us apart. I’m not falling for his bullshit tricks anymore. “Tell me what he wanted from you, from me,” I implore her. I could read the contract, but it will be filled with excuses as to why I should listen to him. Whereas Scarlett spoke to him, she’s obviously learned about Darius, or he would never have taken the chance and kissed her.
“He is your blood,” she finally confesses, but this is a truth I’m aware of, so I nod for her to continue. “He has proof that your father was murdered, not by who you think,” she tells me, her voice falling to nothing more than a whisper. My heart constricts in my chest.
But she doesn’t speak.
Tears form in her eyes once more, and when she blinks, they fall, trickling down her cheeks. She doesn’t meet my gaze, and my lungs give out. For a moment, I think I’m dying because I have a feeling I know what she’s going to say.