Briar Valley: The Complete Duet

15. Willow

CHAPTER 15

WILLOW

I WON’T JUMP - MALDITO

The wind howls outside of the cabin, screaming fury and hatred as it batters Lola’s windows with violent hail. I flinch when a thunderclap directly outside almost shoves me back into a pit of sordid memories.

Crack.

I said scream, bitch!

Crack.

Beg on your knees.

Crack.

Say my fucking name.

Breathing through gritted teeth, I stare into the crackling flames in Lola’s open fireplace. The power went out a couple of hours ago. Apparently, that’s normal in periods of bad weather up here.

The storm rolled in late last night, earlier than expected. It has been raging for hours, plunging the daytime into impenetrable darkness. I’ve never experienced anything like it. Not even the Mexican sandstorms were this brutal.

“Mummy?” Arianna cries out.

I tighten my arm around her. “It’s okay.”

“Where’s the giant? I’m scared. He’s supposed to keep us safe, isn’t he?”

“Killian is at home, baby. It isn’t safe to go out in the storm. Someone could get hurt. It’ll all be over soon, I promise.”

“Okay,” she whimpers.

I rub circles on her back, trying to comfort her. Lola returns from the kitchen, carrying a tray of thick-crust sandwiches and homemade soup that makes my stomach rumble. She sets it up on the floor so it’s like we’re eating a little picnic.

“Normally, I wouldn’t allow eating in here, but I think I can make an exception today. I had to heat the soup with a camping stove so it’s a little cold.”

Arianna settles next to her on the woven rug. “Thanks, Grams. I’m hungry.”

“Of course, poppet. Come on, eat up.”

Lola ruffles her neatly braided hair and turns her attention to me. “You too, Willow. I haven’t seen you eat a proper meal in days.”

I wince, feeling too queasy to contemplate eating. I’ve felt off all week and have chalked it up to the constant state of anxiety I’ve spent the last decade in. Breaking the habit of a lifetime isn’t quick work.

“I’m fine, Lola. You go ahead and eat.”

“I have a bullshit radar, missus.”

I snort in amusement. “Is that so?”

“How do you think I raised so many boisterous children around here?” She tucks a napkin into Arianna’s shirt collar. “No one tries it on with me and succeeds.”

Too curious for my own good, I can’t help but pry.

“What were the guys like as kids?”

“Killian was a little bugger when he was young,” she reveals conversationally. “Always getting into trouble and causing havoc. He thought he was smarter than all of us.”

“Nothing’s changed then.”

“Definitely not.” Lola scoffs. “The twins were a bit more manageable, but your grandpa was the patient one, not me. He taught them everything they know.”

“How old were they when they came here? The twins?”

Pushing a bowl of soup and a sandwich towards me regardless, she settles back with her own food.

“Their father died… gosh, nearly fourteen years ago.”

My heart splinters imagining little Zach and Micah, both ten-years-old, losing their dad so young. I can’t even contemplate what would happen to Arianna if I wasn’t here to keep her safe. One recent near-death experience was enough to scare me.

“Zach was a terror too, causing trouble from day one. Him and Killian were a deadly combination, pranking the other kids and winding everyone up for their own fun.”

“And Micah?”

Lola stirs her soup, deep in thought. “Micah was the silent one. He had such bad night terrors and panic attacks as a child. Zach was the only one who calmed him down.”

Unable to stop myself, I think of Micah’s hopelessly sad smile. His impromptu kiss has been on my mind ever since it happened. I didn’t see it coming, but a dark, sinful part of me wants to do it all over again, regardless of what my brain thinks.

“What happened?”

“Killian didn’t tell you?” Lola asks in surprise.

“Not the specifics. I’ve spent some time with Micah, though. He’s… erm, different.”

“He was always a good boy, albeit troubled. Their father battled prostate cancer for several years. When he passed on, the police didn’t find his body until three days later.”

“Wait, what?”

Lola checks that Arianna’s absorbed in her meal before lowering her voice to a hushed whisper. “Micah was locked in a room with his father’s corpse for all that time.”

I have to hold back a wave of nausea. “Oh my God.”

“Zach shouted and begged from the other side of the locked door, but Micah didn’t respond until the police knocked the bathroom door down to free him.”

“And no one was there to help?”

Lola shakes her head. “They lived far away from here. By the time we found out what had happened, it was too late. Killian’s parents adopted Micah and Zach, but things were never the same again.”

My heart aches at the thought of Micah as a terrified little boy, locked in a room with his father’s body for all of that time. He must have been so scared, unable to move enough to even unlock the door. It’s an unimaginable cruelty.

“When he was older, Micah started going into town, drinking alone,” Lola explains. “Your grandpa staged an intervention when he was eighteen and told him to find another way to cope. That’s when they built the studio. Killian’s idea.”

“Was he always artistic?”

“Oh, yes. They thought it would help him to cope, but we lost him to a whole new vice. At least when he was drinking, we still saw him. Now, nobody does. He’s too withdrawn.”

I think about the countless priceless sculptures and paintings that litter Micah’s studio, each more exquisite than the last. A love story to the richness of the world around him—a world that he’s too scared to see with his own eyes for fear of it being ripped away.

It must feel more manageable for him to reduce it down to the safety of a lump of clay, the flick of a brush, something under his control which can’t hurt him. People die. Art lives forever. It’s the perfect, silent companion.

“Grams?”

The front door slams shut so loud, we both startle in shock and launch to our feet. I order Arianna to stay hidden and follow Lola out into the hallway, where frantic voices are yelling over the sound of hailstones.

“What are you two doing out in this storm?” Lola exclaims.

Killian and Zach are shaking rain from their wet hair, both looking wild with desperation as they stand just inside the entrance. They’re soaked through and still wearing their mud-streaked work clothes.

“It’s Micah.” Killian wrings water from his long locks. “He didn’t come back from his hike yesterday. We just checked the studio for flooding and realised.”

“When did he leave?” Lola asks urgently.

“Yesterday afternoon, around four o’clock.” I earn myself three very surprised looks. “I… uh, saw him on his way out.”

“Was he upset? Did something happen?” Killian barks.

I flinch. “We may have… you know, he was?—”

“Just spit it out, Willow.”

“Kill,” Zach warns. “You need to calm down.”

“He could be seriously hurt!” Killian shouts at him. “I need to know what happened.”

Hugging my midsection, I blink away tears. “I guess he might’ve been upset.”

Killian pins his cousin with an I told you so look that only makes me feel worse. I had no idea that Micah didn’t come back after he stormed away from me.

“Why was he upset?” Zach questions calmly.

“We… spoke. He stormed off.”

Killian’s gaze crackles across my skin, charring flesh and bone, until I’m retreating from him in fear. He’s forgone his human fa?ade entirely today, opting for cold fury instead. I can’t stop myself from replaying his words from last week.

I didn’t mean to get someone hurt. Especially not Micah. I care about him too. Killian curses and marches back out into the storm before Lola can grab his arm.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she shouts after him.

“To find my stupid fucking cousin!” Killian yells over his shoulder. “He could get killed in this weather. I won’t leave him out there alone.”

“I’m coming,” Zach chimes in.

In a split second, I’ve made my decision. Grabbing the bright-purple raincoat that I picked up in town, I throw it over my clothes and grab my leather boots.

“Me too. Let’s go and find him.”

“I hardly think so.” Lola fists a handful of my coat to prevent me from leaving. “You’re not going out in that storm. Leave this to the boys.”

“It’s my fault he’s out there in the first place!”

“Nonsense. Micah isn’t your responsibility.” She looks at Zach, her face stern. “Go with Killian and report back within an hour or I’m calling mountain rescue. Got that?”

“Yes, Grams.”

I watch him dash back out into the rain, his frame swallowed by the darkness. The crash of Lola slamming the front door shut feels like a right hook in the stomach.

She heads back into Arianna, leaving me to strip off my raincoat. Overcome by anger, I scrunch it in my hands. This is all my fault.

I shouldn’t have kissed him or said any of those things. I was feeling vulnerable and lost. He didn’t need me to take my own insecurities out on him.

If he’s hurt, I’ll never forgive myself.

Staring at the grandfather clock, I watch the minute hand strike twelve for what feels like the millionth time. Lola has taken Arianna up to bed.

The storm is still raging, and the wind rattles the entire contents of the cabin. Despite its high-tech, sturdy construction, window panes judder and the screaming wind whistles down the chimney breast, threatening to extinguish the fire.

The painful wait has run my nerves ragged. I’m too distracted to keep my mind in check. My nails dig into my palms, unnerved by the whispered words in my head.

All your fault, Mrs Sanchez.

No more fighting back.

You’ll never escape here.

This isn’t the first time people have gotten hurt because of me. Nobody understands why I keep my secrets locked up deep inside. It’s more than the disjointed sense of being different that Micah described.

The threat against myself and Arianna still stands, no matter the ocean between us and our old home. If the man I’m married to can brutalise others for his own pleasure, he can find a way to win back his precious treasure.

That’s real power.

He has no limits.

Staring deep into the embers of the fireplace, I’m too deep in thought to hear the creaking floorboards behind me. I startle when a hand brushes my shoulder.

“I’m back, babe.”

Hunched over, Zach is soaked to the bone and shaking. Water drips on Lola’s living room floor, creating a puddle around him. His usually tanned skin is tinted a shade of freezing cold blue.

“Zach!” I shout.

He easily catches me when I throw myself into his arms. I don’t care that he’s soaking my sweater and leggings with rainwater. Seeing him safe and sound is the miracle I was waiting for.

“It’s okay, Willow. Everything is fine. I came to let Lola know.”

“Where was he? What happened?”

Peeling my arms from his neck, Zach guides me back to the sofa. “Micah got caught in the overpass. The route was blocked by flooding. He managed to go the long way around, but he got lost and had to camp overnight.”

“Is h-he okay?” I stammer fearfully.

“Mild case of hypothermia, dehydrated and feeling like a fool, but he’s fine. Killian already chewed him out for being a moron. They had a huge fight.”

“Thank God. I was so worried.”

Zach winces as he shakes out his hands, the skin turning a bright shade of red as he warms up. I leap back onto my feet, beginning to panic again. He’s sodden and shivering from head to toe.

“You’re freezing. Take off your clothes.”

“Excuse me?” he says through chattering teeth.

“It’s the quickest way to warm up. You don’t want to get sick.”

“I’m okay, really.”

“Use the fire to warm up before you catch hypothermia too. I promise, I won’t look.”

His gaze trails over me. “Maybe I won’t mind if you do look.”

With an eye roll, I turn my back on him. “Just strip.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

Grabbing another log of wood from the basket, I add it to the flames and give it a poke, getting the fire roaring again. The sound of a zipper and wet denim being shimmied off sets my heart racing.

“If you wanted me to take my clothes off sooner, you only had to ask,” Zach says huskily. “I’ve got nothing to hide from you.”

The pad of his bare feet joins me in front of the fire. Zach sits down, stretching his bare legs and hands outwards to capture the heat. I can’t stop myself from taking a peak out of the corner of my eye.

My mouth goes dry.

Holy fuck.

I knew that Zach was muscular like his cousin and brother. Life up here doesn’t allow for laziness. But the hard lines that carve his defined abdominals stacked in neat rows across his torso are something else. He’s literally ripped.

Zach’s strong legs have been honed by hours of work outside, and his skin-tight boxers leave nothing to the imagination. His package is huge. Intimidatingly so. I don’t have a whole lot of experience, but even I can see he’s well-endowed.

I clear my throat. “Well then.”

“Fuck, I’m freezing.”

“Want me to make you some tea?”

A wicked smile stretches his lips. “Why don’t you come sit here with me while I warm up? Promise I’ll keep my hands to myself. Scout’s honour.”

“You were in the Scouts?”

“Well, Pops’ version anyway. It mostly entailed me and Killian sneaking into his cabin to steal his beer. We also practised shooting the empty bottles until we got caught.”

With a deep breath, I sit down in front of the fire, tucking my legs up to my chest. Zach’s broad shoulder brushes mine for a brief, heart-stopping second. He’s staring at me, the smile wiped from his face. It’s weird to see him looking serious.

“What did you and Micah argue about?”

I feel my cheeks flush. “Nothing.”

“Then why are you turning into an admittedly adorable tomato right now?” He barks a laugh. “Come on, you can tell me. I’m great at keeping secrets.”

“Not happening.”

“Here’s one for you then. Did you know that Killian shaved all his hair off once when he was drunk? Ryder dared him to do it.”

“You’re joking?” I splutter.

“Nope. His mum nearly killed him for doing it. He looked like a fucking convict and it took months to grow back as well. So, come on. Tell me what happened.”

“You’ve just proven that you can’t keep a secret.”

Zach draws a cross over his heart. “My lips are sealed, I swear.”

I look back into the depths of the fire. “It was stupid. I’ve never felt comfortable or at ease around people, especially men. But Micah’s easy to talk to and he gets me.”

Zach’s eyebrows shoot up. “He kissed you, didn’t he?”

“What? How do you know that?”

“It’s written all over your face. He may not know the first thing about women, but no one else has been allowed inside his studio, let alone given something to take home.”

“So what? He likes Arianna.”

“Micah doesn’t let anyone get close to him. He’s a lot like you in that respect. I knew he liked you the moment he showed you his art.”

I hate what he’s insinuating. Truthfully, I want to let people in. I want to belong to someone. My past is the only thing stopping me from giving myself to another person. That’s all anyone wants—to love and be loved.

“You’re doing a Killian,” he prods.

“A Killian?”

“Silence and lots of glaring. It’s his signature move.”

“I am not glaring,” I respond hotly.

His shoulder bumps mine again. Zach’s palm snakes closer, until he takes my hand and tangles our fingers together. I don’t have the heart to pull away from him. His touch feels so good.

“It’s okay that you kissed my brother, babe.”

“How is that okay?” I gape at him.

“Because I love Micah. I want him to be happy.”

“Clearly, he’s not happy. He ran away from me and got himself hurt.”

Zach’s thumb strokes my inner wrist. “The world works differently here. We don’t keep people in little boxes just because it’s convenient. If you want to kiss him, you should.”

“He kissed me.”

“Right, but you kissed him back.”

“Does it matter who started it?” I snap at him. “Jesus, Zach. Nobody should be kissing anyone. It was a mistake.”

“Kissing is allowed. In fact, if you want to kiss me, I would highly encourage it.”

My belly explodes with nervous butterflies. I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t thought about it with all three of them. They’re gorgeous. But more than that, Killian, Zach and even Micah have made me feel at home in their own ways.

I smack his shoulder. “You’re not helping.”

“Keep thinking so hard and steam will come out of your ears.” He dares to run a finger along my jaw. “Something to think about. I need to get back and check on Micah.”

Grabbing his soaking wet clothes, Zach stretches to his full height, showing off far too many muscles that have heat heading straight down south. There’s a dark, intricate tattoo on his bicep that I hadn’t noticed before.

Before he can leave me to wallow in my guilt again, I launch to my feet and croak his name. Zach freezes, his eyes zipping over his shoulder to find me. The smile tugging at his lips is so hopeful, I think he was secretly praying I’d stop him from leaving.

“You could stay,” I blurt.

He arches a brow. “Here?”

“Everyone else is asleep.”

Satisfied with my confession, he drops the bundle of clothes tucked under his arm. His powerful legs eat up the distance between us until every inch of his skin is within my reach. I battle the urge to trace my fingers over his defined collarbones.

“Tell me what you really want, Willow.”

“I… don’t know.”

“That’s a lie. You know.”

His voice is a silky, confident rasp that makes my thighs clench together. I can’t say it. Not out loud. I’m too afraid to acknowledge the desires bubbling up within me for the first time.

“Nothing?” Zach moves closer. “Perhaps you want me to kiss that gorgeous mouth of yours.” His hand dances down my shoulder. “Or do you only want my twin brother?”

Breath catching, I’m caught in the sheer magnetism of his gaze. It’s impossible not to see Micah in his features, but the person heating my blood in this moment is Zach. Only him. They are two separate entities in my head, and I want them both.

Cupping my jaw, he tilts my head up. “Perhaps you want me to trace every single inch of your body with my tongue, or for me to taste how wet your pussy is in this moment.”

“Zach,” I gasp, embarrassed.

“What?” he counters. “Don’t deny it. I can see your legs pressing together. Does it hurt, beautiful girl? Is your cunt soaking wet and begging for me to touch it?”

Every filthy, shocking word that escapes his mouth turns me on even more. I’m practically sagging against him, my legs trembling with each throb of pleasure demanding to be relieved. I’ve never felt this intense need before.

“Now she blushes,” Zach teases before growing stern. “I don’t want to trigger you again like I did in the shop. That’s why I’ve tried to keep my distance.”

“I… I don’t want you to keep your distance.”

“Then you have to communicate. If you want me to touch you, I need to know. I won’t lay a finger on you without your consent.”

I feel the remains of my uncertainty melt into pathetic mush. Those words are all I needed to hear. He’s offering me the one thing I was never afforded. Control. A choice. This is all on my terms, not his.

Leaning into his touch, I breathe out a sigh. “Please, Zach.”

“More specific,” he demands.

My heart judders in my chest, on the verge of breaking free.

“Please kiss me. Touch me. Make me feel whole again.”

“There’s a good girl. That’s what I wanted to hear.”

A hand meets the small of my back, trapping me against the hard planes of his chest. Despite being clothed in nothing but boxers, his skin feels like a furnace. He’s warmed up in no time and his electric touch burns into me.

“I want to bury my face between your thighs,” he purrs. “And I want you to come all over my mouth so I can taste how sweet you are. Reckon you can do that, babe?”

I couldn’t answer him even if I wanted to. I’m dizzy with lust. Years’ worth of pent up frustration and pain have led me to this desperate place. But still, I trust him. I know that Zach would never hurt me.

Tugging the hem of my oversized sweater, he guides it over my head, exposing my plain bra. A shiver overtakes me as Zach eases the leggings over my hips next, planting open-mouthed kisses against my stomach while pulling them off.

His mouth moves lower still, and he plants a kiss against the scrap of white cotton holding him back from my core. I can feel how damp the material is. I’m soaked through just from listening to his dirty mouth.

“Such a perfect angel,” Zach praises, sliding off my panties to expose my bareness to him. “You’re dripping already and I haven’t even touched you.”

He kneels before me, his quads bulging with muscles that set my pulse alight. I feel oddly powerful, standing over him while he lavishes every inch of my flushed skin.

I’m desperate for the relief of his touch. Nothing else matters, not even the fact we’re both near-naked in Lola’s living room where anyone could walk in. Zach sits back on the rug and lays down, tugging my wrist to pull me on top of him.

I straddle his waist, holding back a moan as the promising steel of his length brushes against my core. It’s an excruciating tease. That sense of pressure has never given me such a thrill before.

“Look at you.” He smirks up at me. “Being on top suits you.”

“I’ve n-never done this before.”

“What? Been on top?”

I bat aside the brush of bad memories. “Yeah.”

“Well, that simply won’t do. I’m dying to watch you fall apart with my tongue buried inside you. Come and ride my face.”

“You want me to do what?”

Zach snickers. “There’s that blush again. Come on, babe. Bring your cunt to me.”

Wracked by uncertainty, I let him guide my hips upwards. With a leg spread either side of his head, he pulls my core closer to his face until I’m splayed out over his head.

The moment his mouth meets my folds, I forget my insecurities. Strange new sensations wash over me with each stroke of his tongue, sparking nerves I had no idea existed until now. This is the first time a man has ever pleasured me.

He hungrily laps at my core like he’s tucking into a five-star meal. With his hands still engulfing my waist, he encourages me to move, shifting back and forth in a slow undulation. Each shift of my hips rocks me against his mouth.

A sense of pressure begins to unfurl inside of me. It begins as a slow burn like the first wisps of curling smoke rising from a bonfire. When his thumb moves to circle the tight bundle of nerves I’ve only ever touched myself, the feeling triples.

“You taste like fucking heaven.” He comes up for air. “More, babe. I want you to fuck yourself against my face. You can do it.”

Releasing my hip, he lets me take the reins. I copy the movements he showed me, lifting my hips and rocking backwards to spear his tongue deeper into my slit.

“Oh, God,” I moan.

His thumb keeps circling, toying with my nub and building the pressure deep inside me until it feels like I’m going to explode. I never thought it was possible to get so much pleasure from someone else’s tongue.

Head thrown back, I cry out his name when the feeling reaches its pinnacle. Zach’s still lavishing my core, the graze of his teeth on my clit pushing me over the edge.

“Perfect. That’s it, Willow.”

Fireworks explode beneath my skin, over and over again. With a final flick of his tongue, Zach ceases his slow torture and watches me ride out the waves of bliss. This is the first time a man has made me orgasm.

I wonder what he’d think if he knew.

Something tells me Zach would love that.

Floating on a cloud, I come back down to earth as he repositions me so I’m straddling his waist again. He sits up, with glistening moisture scored across his mouth. The son of a bitch looks far too pleased with himself.

“That was a hell of a sight,” he says gruffly.

Panting hard, I watch his tongue dart out to clean my come from his lips. He licks up every last drop with enthusiasm, the evil glint in his eye betraying his satisfaction.

“Now I’m back in the lead.”

“What?” I groan.

His chest vibrates with a chuckle. “Micah isn’t the best twin after all. I’ll happily beat him again by making you come all fucking day long.”

“Zach! This isn’t a competition.”

“Of course, it is. One that I intend to win.”