Feathers and Thorne Series Books 1 - 3: The Complete Collection

Chapter Eighteen

Carter

It’s a week of nothing.

No word from the witch Lilian, not a peep out of Donahue, who received a pretty harsh tongue lashing from me over the phone a few days ago, and certainly nothing ill-intended from Isabella, who has been rather reserved since our argument.

It was unlike anything I’d ever had with her before, and it hurt tremendously.

While I usually like the aftereffects of such a high-energy, intense moment where we both scream our feelings out and then have amazing sex to redo the bond between us, it never happened.

And it hasn’t happened since.

My body is rigid with the thought of what I’ve done. I can’t reverse what I said or accused her of doing, and at that moment, it felt like I was fighting the good fight. I was fighting for her, for us, but the longer I waste away at my desk, in my head until sunset, I realize it wasn’t about her at all.

It was about me.

I don’t want to lose the woman I love to anything, especially not my own mistakes. I think I’ve made the mistake of being too harsh about the Rich Donahue situation known now. She shouldn’t have sat down and talked to him long enough for a handful of photos to be taken, and she gets that, but to accuse her of doing more than that was a bit of a stretch.

She wouldn’t leave me, and she wouldn’t fuck another man. I think it was stupidly immature of me to think otherwise. I should have controlled myself better.

I need to do better in the future, or I’ll drive her away more than I already have.

Gathering my things, a little buzz pops up on my phone from an unknown number. Isabella’s phone was ruined in the rainy altercation, and I know Anita loaned her one of the family burner phones until she could take Isabella to get a new one. Unfortunately, I forgot to get the number from Anita. Seeing this text does have me excited, though. It has to be Isabella.

Meet me at the Blackthorne Club. I’ll be wearing my best outfit for you.

My blood runs hot as I hurry downstairs and find Ernesto outside the SUV, ready to usher me into the backseat as soon as the shuttering noise of the cameras begins. The paparazzi hasn’t let up since the article about Isabella and Rich came out, and I can’t wait for this to blow over, but it’s going to take time.

“Where to, boss?”

“The club,” I say, my leg bouncing in excited anticipation.

He gives me a weary look through the rearview mirror. “Going out for a drink or something?”

“No, I’m meeting Isabella. I think she’s finally ready for us to get back to normal. I fucking hope she is. We’ve been so silent and cold to one another since our fight. I’m trying to make things right, but she hasn’t been too receptive. Maybe this is her attempt at making it right for us.”

He shrugs but hardly looks convinced. “Alright, if you say so, boss. Just be easy with our girl. She has a fragile heart, and you have hands of stone.”

I wave him off, practically jumping out of the moving car and into the club when it gets near. The place is loud tonight, the sun setting and the rich of this city coming out to play. The club is alive, and the smell of liquor makes my mouth dry. I stop by the bar, down a few fingers of bourbon, and then head to my room in the hallway of many playrooms.

Opening the door, the lights are dimmed, and a curvy brunette stands at the pole in a leather bustier. Isabella is wearing a matching black thong, the choice a bit unusual for her style. She has paired the daring outfit with a black lace mask that nearly covers all her face except her lips.

I don’t like the mask, and I never have made her wear one because it hides the look on her face when I fuck her just right. She knows that, but she’s put it on anyway. Maybe it’s to defy me a bit more than usual or keep me from seeing what she’s really feeling. But I let it slide, pushing the door shut and stripping out of my coat.

“Dove, what are you doing up there?”

She doesn’t reply, just continues to turn around the tall, metal pole with her black patent leather heels on to display her strong, toned legs. She does another spin, hanging onto the pole with a bit more skill than normal.

She hates being up there because it puts her on display, and that unease only adds to the fact that I find the woman I love even more attractive. She’s so hot when she’s unsure about herself because the minute I part her legs and please her body, she relaxes like she was never embarrassed at all. It’s endearing and sweet, and I don’t see any of that here.

I walk closer, watching her put on a little performance on the pole that I know she’s not accustomed to doing. I stare at her carefully, watching every twirl, flick of her ass, and press of her breasts against her inner arms as she tries to seduce me—but it’s not working.

My cock isn’t cooperating, and after a week without her precious pussy wrapped around it, I think I’d be a bit more ecstatic to see her like this. But it’s not the case at all. She does another turn, her back against the pole with her ass facing me while she slides down with her knees out toward the back wall. It’s a sexy move, but something isn’t right.

Her ass is in full view as I come closer for a better look, and the marks I’ve made with my belt aren’t there. Not only are they not there, but a tattoo of sorts flashes into view, and I instantly feel sick to my stomach. Kicking the speaker nearby, I listen to the music spit and stutter in static. It’s enough to make the witch stand abruptly, peeking over her shoulder through the thin slits in her mask.

“You whore,” I bite, shaking in rage. “Lilian. Get down from there.”

She smiles as she undoes the mask, taking it in her hand as she slowly comes off the stage to stand before me. The outfit is one I don’t recall her having before, which worries me that she found it in here out of the many things I’ve given Isabella. Unless Lilian’s income has really increased, then she’s taken it from that array. It would make her intent even more sickening.

“You think I’d fuck you and not know the difference between trash and quality?”

Her face turns sour, a sight to see. “You seemed to like it before you thought I was some meek slut, Carter. What’s the matter? You can admit you wanted to watch more. I won’t tell Isabella.”

She leans forward, her lips nearing my neck while her hands slip down my arms. She doesn’t make it close enough on either to be successful, and I act on blind rage and impulse. My hand takes her neck, and my other palm finds the top of her shoulder. I swing her around sideways and pin her chest to the wall.

Right now, she should fear me, but she instead laughs at the position we’re in. “Oh, Carter. You always did like it from behind.”

She purposefully rolls her hips backward, propping her ass against my hips like she’s got a chance of my dick falling out of my zipper and coming anywhere near her. Even with the fa?ade she’s put on, it hasn’t made my cock twitch. If anything, it may not get hard for weeks on end after this ordeal.

I press her chest harder into the wall, enough to hear her groan in discomfort. “Now that I have your attention, Lilian. We should talk about that envelope you sent me last week.”

“What about it?”

“Did you set up Rich to get those pictures of her and him together?”

She stifles a laugh, playing a risky game with her safety right now. “Carter Blackthorne doesn’t know something for once. This is interesting, actually. You are the man who knows everything, right? You’re the guy with all the answers. What do you think happened?”

I bite my tongue, refraining from lashing her with useless threats right now. It won’t scare her, and given the insanity of this woman, she might actually enjoy the prospect of being threatened by me. Anything to dig herself further under my skin like a burrowing tick.

I want to rip her away from the wall and toss her over a cliff, but I’m worried it still wouldn’t do the trick.

“Just tell me, Lilian.”

“What do I get in return?”

I release her at once, watching as she turns against the wall, her breasts out but still hidden through the outfit enough to not be too revealing. She bites on her thumb, trying to be sexy in her smeared red lipstick, but it’s pointless. She’s not fooling me or anyone else with this innocent act.

She’s far from innocent, and sexy isn’t even a town on her map.

“I want a kiss,” she says at last. “One kiss… on the lips, and then I’ll tell you about Rich.”

I hesitate before replying, “Fine. But you tell me first.”

She lets out a laugh that signals she’s either drunk or just outright crazy. I had my suspicions about the second one all along, but the first one is starting to shine through a bit. Maybe it’s how she got ballsy enough to get me down here and put on that little dance, but it’s going to take a lot more than a sip of liquor to make me attracted to this slut ever again.

“Rich Donahue had nothing to do with it,” she says, leaning forward. When her lips get close to mine, she pauses and adds, “It was all your girl, Carter. She met with Donahue, opened up her weeping little playbook of pity, and paid for it. I just did my job and reported the news, Carter. I can’t help it if the woman doesn’t know any better.”

“Know any better?”

“Yeah. She thinks you and her are nothing, but I would value being with a man like you again. I always knew you were loyal deep down, and you were almost loyal to me before. If you would just let me prove how worthy I am, I could show you how being loyal to me would never result in a mistake like that.”

She leans in, nearly about to kiss me, but I stop her just in time. I shove her into the wall and take a few long steps back, watching the betrayal spit on her face. She looks furious and wounded, and I almost savor the sight of it before shaking my head, grabbing my coat, and heading outside.

She doesn’t follow.

Maybe she isn’t as completely stupid as I think she is.

Ernesto picks me up with a confused look in his eye, but he doesn’t mention it. We drive home in downtown traffic without a word shared between us again. I prefer it that way. I need the time to think, to consider what Lilian said. She has no reason to lie when she thinks she’s getting something out of the truth being told.

Maybe Rich Donahue and Isabella meeting up was just an unfortunate happenstance. It does worry me to think about Lilian following the woman I love around aimlessly, with a camera aimed at the ready to ruin her, but I have to be realistic at the same time.

Isabella wouldn’t be caught dead in a similar predicament like that again, not after the words we threw at each other almost a week ago. Lorenzo has been watching her during the day, sometimes Tristan taking over the task just to make sure she doesn’t sneak out again and stays safe at home. From what I’ve heard, she hasn’t tried to go out on her own lately.

She did promise to do better, but that may have been overkill. She was already perfect, and knowing that it was just supposed to be a harmless coffee date with her best friend that turned into an online frenzy of harsh critiques makes me feel worse and worse as we get closer to home. I laid into her when she was already fresh off the fire, and I shoved her right back into the hot coals.

Earlier, Ernesto mentioned the family waiting for me at Anita’s place for another meeting about the progress at the docks and downtown, but I head home instead. The door opens and shuts, the sound the only thing filling this large, echoing house.

I check the bedroom first, then her office, but I don’t find her anywhere. It makes me a little worried to think she’s tried to leave because of the unease between us lately, but it’s not fucking possible. She knows better now.

I know she does.

I open the door to the basement and hear the hot tub running its bubbly cycle. I shut the door behind me as I descend the stairs, seeing Isabella in the pool, her lightly tanned figure passing under the surface with nothing on but a tiny bikini.

There’s not much I’m thankful for, but I can at least be mighty grateful for the invention of a string bikini on a woman’s body that absolutely wears it right.

She comes up for air, holding onto the edge of the pool opposite from me. Without noticing I’m on the stairs, she gets out of the water and crawls over the barrier into the hot tub. She whines at the sudden shift in temperature, and her face is bright pink by the time her eyes meet mine.

“Carter, when did you—”

I hold up my hand, silencing her without anything but a simple notion. She recedes into herself, guarded and understandably so. I come to the edge of the hot tub and look down at her. The glimmer in her eyes is stunning, and the purse of her perfect lips is everything I need to see today.

They probably feel even better, too.

“Stand up, dove.”

She does so without a moment to waste, and I point at the bikini next, flicking my hand sideways. She reads my movements with her wide eyes and undoes the strap to the top, then the two ties to the bottoms. She tosses them both aside, and I finally get what I want.

She stands in the water, exposed and vulnerable, and tries to hide her assets with her arms and hands coyly enough to be the cute, meek woman I know she is.

Swallowing the sight, my dick is so stiff it fucking hurts, but I don’t care. It doesn’t hinder me from undoing my belt and waving her forward. She looks uneasy at first. I take her hands in mine and wrap the belt around her wrists to make her more comfortable.

We were pretty vicious in our fight last week, and we haven’t really been physical since then. She might be expecting punishment, and she might even deserve a little bit of it, too, but I don’t want to take it to that extreme. Instead, I undo my pants and kick them off with my shoes and socks. She holds out her tied wrists as an offering and melts back into the water, her chin resting on the edge of the hot tub for now.

I undo my shirt, standing naked and stroking myself wildly over her head.

Her eyes never leave mine, and the smile on her lips almost looks familiar.

She’s missed me as much as I have missed her.

“What do you want me to do, Carter?”

I step into the hot water, sit down across from where she’s perched, and wave to the walkway behind the hot tub. “Get out of the water.”

Her brows furrow, but she gets out of the water, dripping wet and naked with her wrists bound. “N-now what?”

“Dance for me, dove.”

It’s the sight I wanted to see when I thought she texted me, and I’ll be damned if the lasting memory of a salacious dance in my head isn’t by her body and her wonderful figure. I want what I want, and it used to be for the sake of plugging up the past where it bled out.

But things are different now. This is the woman I want, the one I deserve, and even if she doesn’t believe it, I trust her more than anyone else in my world right now. Rich Donahue is a blip on my radar, a source of contention I know I’m not done dealing with yet, but if that means more time spent with my dove, hashing things out just to rebound from them stronger than ever—then so be it.

I enjoy her dance as she moves her hips, and I count the ways I’m going to make her scream in ecstasy tonight all inside my head. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to fuck her like I should have been fucking her all week long. If that means cramming it into one night together, I’ll do just that.

I’ll have the woman I love, the woman who loves me, and no one will come between that. No one.