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

Chapter Thirty-Four

Isabella

“Thanks for coming with me, by the way. I know it’s short notice…”

Sam looks up from her phone and nods. “Yeah, of course. I wasn’t going to let you go on your own. Carter does know you’re here, right?”

“I did tell him a few times, and I messaged him, but he hasn’t responded.” I link my fingers over my lap and swing my legs back and forth. “But he’s got a lot on his mind lately.”

And after weeks of hovering and doting, a part of me is relieved he’s getting back into his old habits.

Because I know we can’t stay in our bubble forever.

No matter how badly I want to.

Still, I miss Carter with a fierceness that surprises me, and while I’m glad that Sam and I are reconnecting again, another part of me can’t help but feel like Carter should be here. He should be the one sitting across from me while I sit on the exam table, waiting to hear back from the doctor about my test results. After an entire week of feeling sick, I know that I need to get to the bottom of what’s happening.

Contrary to what Carter believes, I can’t stay home forever.

“Yeah, things have been intense,” Sam agrees, with a sigh. “I honestly can’t believe how quickly things are escalating with the Philipses and the Natoris.”

I swallow. “Has Tristan told you what’s been happening?”

I hate feeling like I’m using Sam, but since my father’s death, Carter has kept me even more out of the loop than usual. While I appreciated it at first, I know firsthand how dangerous it can be to have secrets, the kinds that fester and spread like poison.

I’m determined to make sure Carter and I don’t repeat the same mistakes.

Sam drops her phone into her purse and stands up. “No, but I don’t ask to be honest. I figure the less I know, the better.”

I tilt my head to the side and study her. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

But I know Carter and I aren’t like that.

We never can be.

Sam straightens her back and opens her mouth just as the door to the exam room opens, revealing a young red-haired woman wearing flats and carrying a clipboard. She offers us both a small smile and snaps on her latex gloves. Then she lifts the clipboard to her face and skims over the information. When she’s done, she steps closer and motions for me to face the front of the room.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Isabella. I’m Dr. Munroe.” The doctor presses two fingers against my wrist, the smile never leaving her face. “So, according to your chart, you’ve been feeling sick lately?”

I nod and keep my arm held out. “Yeah, nausea, vomiting, bloated stomach, and I’ve been feeling very tired lately even though I’m getting a lot of sleep.”

Dr. Munroe releases my wrist and unwinds the stethoscope from around her neck. She presses it against my back, the cool metal harsh against my flushed skin. “Take a deep breath for me, please. How about breathlessness?”

“Yeah, I’ve been feeling that too.” I inhale, and when she signals, I release my breath. “And I’ve been getting these bizarre food cravings.”

The doctor nods and removes her stethoscope. She jots something down on the clipboard. “I assume you’re active sexually?”

A flush rises over my neck and stains my cheeks. “I am, but I had a birth control implant put in a while ago.”

She writes something else down. “Alright, I’m just going to take a blood sample so we can rule out a few things.”

With that, she sets her clipboard down on the desk and takes my arm in hers. She pats my skin for a while until she finally spots a vein. Then she opens a drawer and rips open a pack of brand-new syringes. When she looks back at me, she gestures for me to clench my hand into a fist.

I look over at Sam, who has drifted closer to the exam bed. She takes my free hand in hers and gives me a reassuring smile. “You’re doing great.”

There is a stinging sensation, and I inhale sharply.

A few short minutes later, Dr. Munroe moves away, and I hear the gloves being snapped off. I look back at her, and she’s holding a vial with my blood. She presses a piece of cotton to the wound and motions for me to keep it there. “I can have the tests ready for you in half an hour, but you’ll have to pay extra.”

I look at Sam and then back at her. “Sure.”

“Okay, you can wait here till then.” Dr. Munroe gives me another smile and steps out, the door clicking shut behind her. Sam holds my hand for a while longer, then she releases it and wanders over to the window.

I lean back against the exam table and stare at the ceiling.

I don’t realize I’ve drifted off until the doctor returns, a folder in her hand and a furrow between her brows. “Okay, your test results are back. Why don’t we move to the consultation room so you’re more comfortable.”

We follow the doctor to her office as Sam and I share concerned glances.

Dr. Munroe sits behind a desk and sets the folder down. Slowly, I move forward and sink into the seat opposite her. Wordlessly, Sam takes the chair across from me and takes both of my hands in hers.

“So, you mentioned that you had a birth control implant placed, right?”

I sit up straighter and frown. “Yeah, why?”

“According to your medical files, it was removed because you had to go into surgery.”

I have a vague memory of being told about the implant by a young-looking doctor with dark eyes.

But I don’t remember anything else.

Dr. Munroe closes the folder and links her fingers together. “You’re pregnant, Isabella. The good news is that it’s still early enough that you can make the decision not to keep the baby.”

I grip Sam’s hand tighter. “I… I can’t be pregnant.”

The doctor reaches into her drawer and pulls out a pamphlet. “Why don’t you go over these? Here’s my card as well. Call me if you have any questions, and be sure to schedule a follow-up appointment with your obstetrician. Congratulations.”

She pushes her chair back with a screech and gets up.

My ears are ringing, and my stomach is in knots.

Sam is the one to lead me into the blue-colored hallway, past nurses and doctors in scrubs. I’m vaguely aware of monitors beeping in the background and the smell of disinfectant following us out into the emergency waiting area. There is a flurry of activity as a few stretchers are rolled past, and loud voices call out for the doctor.

Suddenly, I’m outside, and Sam is helping me get into her car.

The seatbelt snaps into place, and the door clicks shut behind me. Sam hurries around to the driver’s side and reaches for her belt. After checking the mirrors, she starts the car and backs out of her parking spot. After she merges onto the main road, she glances over at me and waves a hand in front of my face.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to pinch you or something?”

I blink, and the world tilts back into focus, revealing Sam’s AC whirring in the background and a blur of trees and buildings rushing past me beyond the car windows. With a frown, I sit up straighter and run a hand over my face. Then my hand drops to my stomach, and I stare at it in disbelief.

How the hell did this happen?

“I can be there when you tell Carter,” Sam says in a strange voice. “I’m guessing by your reaction that you didn’t plan any of this, but that’s fine. I’m right here, no matter what you decide.”

A lump rises in the back of my throat. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“I think you’ve still got time before it’s too late.” Sam places both hands on the wheel and rolls her shoulders. “You’ve got options, Isabella.”

I glance up at Sam, and my throat is dry. “What if I want to keep the baby?”

Sam glances over sharply, then drags her gaze back to the empty road ahead. “Are you serious?”

I hold my arm more firmly over my stomach and blow out a breath. “I don’t know, but I think I am. Sam, I… I can’t get rid of my baby.”

Because I can’t imagine it. And I don’t want to think about giving my baby up for adoption.

The thought of having a part of Carter and me out there in the world doesn’t sit well with me. Not if it means not having the baby in our lives.

A swell of emotion rises and grows in my chest. “Look, I know it’s crazy, but since my dad died, you know how hard it’s been. I’ve been feeling really lonely and isolated, and I don’t want to feel like Carter is my only family.”

Sam’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. “I understand that, Isabella. I do, but what about Carter? How’s he going to feel about this? They’re in the middle of a civil war, and there’s the bullshit with that journalist…”

I push my hair out of my face. “I know, but this could be exactly what we both need to help us focus on what really matters.”

In the distance, Anita’s house looms, bathed in the glow of the late afternoon sun. On either side of us, mansions race past, and Sam hasn’t looked at me once.

Not since we got into the car.

She probably thinks I’ve lost my mind. And I’m not sure that I haven’t.

I can’t bring a baby into this world, can I?

Sam eases her foot off the gas and circles to the back of Anita’s house. There, she brings the car to a stop and lets the engine idle for a few more seconds. “I want to be supportive, Isabella. I do, but I think you need to think this through. A baby is a lot of responsibility. It’s a tiny person that you need to take care of and feed.”

I frown. “I know.”

Sam switches off the engine and twists so she’s facing me directly. “Isabella, please don’t look at me like that. I’m not trying to be the bad guy here, but you can’t raise a baby in this world. And I know that somewhere deep down inside of you, you know it too.”

I unbuckle my seatbelt and let it slide back into place. “Things are different now. Carter is different.”

Since the incident outside the hospital, Carter has been keeping a closer eye on me and making sure I feel safer and more secure. While a part of that has included having to keep tabs on me at all times, I know it’s for my good.

I need to know that Carter can protect and take care of me. And he’s been nothing short of amazing the past few weeks. I don’t have any reason to doubt him, not when I’ve seen, time and again, how strong and powerful he is.

Carter will protect us, I’m sure of it.

Still, Sam’s words stay with me as we get out of the car and go into the house. Anita is in the kitchen cooking, and a few Blackthorne men are on the front porch. I swing the refrigerator door open and smile when Paul comes in, acting like he hadn’t been shadowing us the entire visit to the hospital and back. When I find a container with some cheese and Italian sliced meats in it, I take it out.

Anita kicks Paul out of the kitchen and spins around to face us. “So, how was the doctor’s appointment?”

I pry the lid open and sniff. “It was fine. Yeah, nothing to worry about.”

Not unless Carter loses his shit, but I’m determined not to think about that. Or about the fact that Sam is right.

Instead, I focus on making myself a sandwich. Anita makes small talk while Sam and I move around the kitchen, helping her take out pots and pans and chop vegetables. Once we’re done, I pour myself a large glass of iced tea and take a bottle of water upstairs. In the doorway to our room, I pause and glance around. When I glance over my shoulder, Sam is hovering near one of the guest rooms.

We exchange a quick look, but she doesn’t say anything.

“I’m just going to lie down for a bit before we meet up with the ladies,” I tell her with a wave. “Can you make sure I’m awake in like an hour?”

Sam nods and folds her arms over her chest.

The door clicks shut behind me, and I kick off my shoes. I crawl between the sheets and down all the iced tea in one gulp. When I’m done, I use the back of my hand to wipe my mouth. Then I pull the covers up to my chin, bringing one arm up behind my head and using the other to cup my stomach.

It feels strange to know that there is life growing inside of me.

Before I drift off to sleep, I think I feel a flutter, and it sends another wave of emotion through me.

Sometime later, when Sam comes into the room and gently shakes me awake, I am deep in the throes of sleep. Slowly, I sit up, push my hair out of my face, and give Sam a sleepy smile. Then I stagger out of bed and into the adjoining bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. Through the slit in the door, I see Sam adjust the covers on the bed and smooth out the wrinkles.

She’s a good friend, and I’m glad to have her back in my life. But she doesn’t understand things with Carter, and she’s never going to.

Dating Tristan isn’t going to change that.

With a slight shake of my head, I peel my clothes off and leave them in a pile on the floor. I wait for the water to heat up, and I’m examining myself in the mirror when steam fills the bathroom. Once it does, I pull back the curtain and stand under the shower head, letting the water swirl at my feet.

Am I making this decision for the right reasons? Can I even raise a baby in this world? What is that even going to look like?

A million more questions race through my mind while I lather up some soap and scrub my skin. I’m wondering how the logistics of raising a baby are going to work, safety-wise, when I run my fingers through my hair. As soon as I’m done rinsing the shampoo out, I spend a few more minutes under the water, enjoying how it feels against my flushed skin.

When I come out, Sam isn’t in the room anymore, but she’s helped me choose an outfit.

I change into my jeans and a loose, flowery top, then drag a comb through my hair before blowing it dry. After using deodorant and spritzing on some perfume, I shove my feet into a pair of sneakers. Sam is waiting for me in a similar outfit at the foot of the stairs, and she smiles when she sees me. In silence, we make our way outside to the car parked next to the curb.

Paul is the one who drives us to the mall to meet up with our neighbors.

They’re already there when we arrive, and they have several shopping bags in hand. Sam and I offer them a smile, and she stays close while we wander through the air-conditioned mall, moving from one shop to the next. Now and again, I spot Paul and another of the Blackthorne men trailing a few feet behind us. When we go into a perfume store, I see the two of them linger outside and fold their arms over their chests.

Are they going to be the ones protecting the baby and me? Can Carter even spare them like that when the family’s in the middle of a war?

I barely interact with the other ladies, so Sam keeps up a steady stream of conversation, gushing over nail polish, clothes, and everything in between. Now and again, I feign just enough interest so our new friends don’t get upset, but I can’t muster up any kind of enthusiasm.

Not for this, at least. Not when I keep thinking about how I’m going to tell Carter.

A part of me imagines a moonlight dinner and handing him a shirt or a mug with the news. But the other part of me knows that’s incredibly cheesy and conventional, and I can’t picture Carter wearing a shirt that announces the news.

I can’t even see myself handing it to him.

Frowning, I follow Sam and the other women through the rest of the mall. Halfway through our excursion, when I begin to sweat, Sam insists on taking me to the food court. She waves the rest of the women away and returns with a smoothie. I finish it all and straighten my legs out in front of me. When I stretch my arms up over my head, I notice that Sam is watching me.

“What?”

Sam shrugs and sips her drink. “I haven’t said anything.”

“I have thought about what you said,” I tell her before letting my hands fall to my sides. “And I think it’s going to be fine. It will take some adjusting, but that’s the case for every new parent.”

Carter and I aren’t the only people in the world who are going to have to make some changes.

Nor will we be the last.

Sam takes another long sip of her drink. “So, you’ve decided you’re going to tell Carter?”

“Yes.”

“How come you didn’t have another implant?”

I sit up straighter. “Honestly? I think I must have been pretty out of it when the doctor told me; otherwise, I would’ve remembered.”

Because as happy and excited as I am about the baby, I wouldn’t do this on purpose. I’m not looking to entrap Carter, not when we have an entire future planned, first with the wedding and now this.

I’m going to have a family again.

The thoughts bring tears to my eyes, and I try to hide them behind my phone screen. Sam and I are getting ready to get up when our new friends return, wearing identical expressions of concern. Wordlessly, they pull more chairs out and form a circle around the table.

As soon as they do, I take one look at their faces and stiffen. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Mary Jane, who is sitting closer to me, takes her phone out of her pocket. After a quick look at the others, she clears her throat. “We don’t know if you’ve seen the article yet, but we thought you’d want to know.”

I glance from one woman to the other, but no one wants to meet my gaze.

Suddenly, I’m afraid that Lilian has done something stupid and irreparable.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sam rummaging through her purse. She takes her phone out, and her eyes widen. Then she lowers her head, and her finger moves quickly. I wait for her to look up at me, and when she does, I wish she hadn’t.

It’s written all over her face.

My heart is pounding against my ears when I speak. “How bad is it?”

“It’s bad,” Sam replies with a shake of her head. “We should probably get going.”

One by one, the ladies stand up and take their chairs back. Sam moves to help me, but I wave her away. In a daze, Sam and I find Paul and return to the car. In the backseat, I have to resist the urge to take out my phone and see the damage for myself. Although I hate being kept in the dark and not knowing what’s being said, I also know that I don’t want Paul to see my reaction.

And I don’t want to break down in front of Sam. Not again.

I need to be strong, and I need to keep it together until I get home.

In silence, Paul pulls up outside Anita’s house. Sam gets out first and spins around to face me. I don’t meet her gaze and offer her a grim smile instead. Then I walk up the steps of my own house and fish the keys out of my pocket. I don’t realize I’m trembling until it takes a few tries to get the door open. When I hear the familiar click, I breathe a sigh of relief and push the door open the rest of the way.

My purse falls to the floor with a clatter, and I kick the door shut.

I roll up the sleeves of my shirt and wander into the living room. There, I sink onto the couch, prop my feet up on the coffee table and inhale. On the count of five, I exhale and reach for my phone. It doesn’t take me long to find the article in question.

Still, I hover over the link and wonder if I should wait for Carter.

He hasn’t responded to any of my texts, and he hasn’t called.

Either he hasn’t seen the article yet, or he isn’t worried about the fallback.

Reluctantly, I drum my fingers against my knee and turn the matter over and over in my head. A few moments later, I square my shoulders and set my phone down. After retrieving my laptop from the office, I set it down on the coffee table and open the lid, finding and quickly clicking on the link before I can change my mind.

I see her name first, Lilian McCoy, and it sends little bursts of anger through me.

She wastes no time in introducing Carter in the harshest light possible. I settle back against the couch, set the laptop down on my lap, and continue reading. In the article, she talks about everything from Carter’s suspected mob ties to his connection to the old mayor to the slew of dead bodies he leaves in his wake.

The more I read, the worse I feel.

I drape an arm over my stomach and force myself to continue.

And it only gets worse because Lilian isn’t just attacking Carter on a professional level. She’s also done her homework and has gone above and beyond in securing witness statements detailing Carter’s particular tastes in the bedroom and his preference for curvy brunettes. I taste bile in the back of my throat, but I swallow past it and keep reading.

When I reach the part where she mentions me, I jolt upright and push the laptop away.

I’m bent over the toilet in the guest bathroom before I know what I’m doing.

Everything I’ve eaten that day comes back up, making my eyes water and my lungs burn. When I’m sure there’s nothing left in my stomach, I lean back and rip off a piece of toilet paper. I wipe my mouth, and on shaky legs, I stand up. Using the counter, I hoist myself up and grip the sink as if my life depended on it.

I wonder if it’s the only thing keeping me from collapsing.

Or if it’s the thought of the baby growing inside of me.

All I know is that I manage to splash cold water on my face and pat it dry. Somehow, I make it back into the living room, but rather than going back to the laptop, I go into the kitchen. I fill up the kettle, make myself some chamomile tea, and take it back to the living room.

I ignore the warning voices in my head and tuck my legs underneath me.

Despite my better judgment, I continue to read.

It feels unnerving to learn all this about Carter, to have names and lists of all the people he’s hurt and all the women he’s slept with. Like I have an unfair advantage by getting a peek into his past.

Each word that I read and each name that I see sends a fresh wave of anxiety through me. When I finish reading the article, I’ve bitten through half of my nails. Despite knowing it won’t get better, I read it again, and I begin to give faces to the names.

Suddenly, I can’t stop picturing all the horrible things Carter has done. Or all the women he’s screwed to get Brooke out of his system.

Until a few months ago, I was one of them, and I know I can’t escape that. As much as I want to leave the past behind and forget how Carter and I came to be in the first place, I know I can’t. No amount of wishful thinking or praying is going to change the truth.

Or the reality of what we have to face.

But a part of me can’t hide from the fact that I’ve been in denial. Since meeting Carter, I’ve come up with one excuse after another and jumped from one justification to the next, all to convince myself that he’s a good person. After months of trying to convince myself that Carter isn’t the monster everyone makes him out to be, it’s more than a little unsettling to know that the truth is a lot more complicated.

To be forced to face it sends me reeling.

What if Sam is right? How can I bring a baby into the world, into this world, knowing full well the danger the baby will face?

It’s bad enough that Carter’s enemies target me and make kidnapping and torturing me a sport. Horror and revulsion fill me as I realize what they might do to the baby. To our baby.

This baby is half-Carter’s, whether he likes it or not, and from the moment the baby is born, he will have a target on his head. Once he’s out in the world, there’ll be very little I can do to protect the baby from the people gunning for him, short of taking him and disappearing altogether.

But I can’t do that to Carter, can I?

I push the laptop away and reach for my phone. Sam answers on the second ring, her voice muffled and breathless. “Have you seen the article?”

I stand up and run my fingers through my hair. “Sam, what the fuck am I going to do? I can’t bring a baby into this world. Seeing that article has driven the point home for me. I know Carter has been doing a better job of protecting me, of keeping his enemies away, but a baby isn’t the same.”

Sam exhales, and I hear a door opening and then closing. “Of course, it isn’t the same.”

I glance down at my stomach and swallow. “A baby is small and helpless, and he’s going to need me to protect him, to make the tough decisions that I don’t want to make.”

“Yes.”

I sink into the couch and squeeze my eyes shut. “What the hell am I going to do, Sam? I can’t leave Carter…”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Does it matter? I don’t want to. I love him. We’re engaged. We’re supposed to be getting married.”

Sam sighs. “Look, I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but there’s a reason you called me. It’s because you want someone to tell you the words you don’t want to admit to yourself.”

My eyes fly open, and I clutch the phone tighter. “Which are?”

“You know you can’t bring a baby into Carter’s world,” Sam whispers, her voice catching toward the end. “I know it sucks, and I know you two have been through a lot together. I’m not saying you don’t love him, Isabella… but you do have to ask yourself if love is going to be enough for the baby.”

Because it’s not just me anymore.

I’m a grown-ass woman who knows what I’ve signed up for with Carter. But my baby hasn’t made that decision, and I can’t make it for him.

I won’t.

I scrub a hand over my face. “I need to think.”

Without waiting for a response, I hang up and carry the laptop with me upstairs. I take the stairs two at a time, barely registering anything around me until I reach our bedroom. There, I set the laptop down and clear the browser history. Then I take a suitcase out from under the bed and unzip it. When it’s open, I start throwing things into the bag haphazardly without realizing I’m crying.

I sniff and throw more clothes into the bag.

Halfway through packing, I perch on the edge of the bed and bury my face in my hands. The tears come more freely now, and my shoulders shake, but it’s like a dam has burst, and I can’t stop.

I’m not even sure I want to.

Because I know that I have to make the right decision for my baby, but I don’t want to leave Carter.

He’s my home and the only man I’ve ever loved.

Even if I had somewhere else to go, which I don’t, I can’t imagine leaving my beautiful, broken man behind.

Once the tears begin to subside, I drape an arm over my stomach and sink onto the floor. “What are we going to do, little bean? I already love you so much.”

And I can’t bear the thought of someone hurting my baby.

“Mommy is going to figure it out,” I whisper, pausing to stroke my stomach. My eyes dart listlessly around the room until they settle on the dresser and the music box on top of it. Slowly, I rise to my feet, pick the music box up, and wind it.

Soft music fills the room and eases away some of the sorrow and ache.

“You know, my mother had a music box like this,” I murmur, my gaze dropping back down to my stomach. “Every night, she used to wind it up and set it to play. We’d dance around the room together until we were breathless. And sometimes, my dad would join us and twirl my mom around.”

My lips lift into a half smile. “You would’ve loved your grandpa, Bean. And he would’ve loved you so much.”

I stop talking when I realize I’m crying and miss my father with a fierceness and ferocity that surprises me. Reluctantly, I sit back down on the bed and place the music box in the middle of the bag. I’m in the bathroom washing my face when I hear the front door open. Carter’s familiar footsteps fill the house as he races up the stairs.

In the doorway to the bathroom, I meet him, and my eyes widen when I see the blood all over his shirt and notice his pale, ashen color. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Someone jumped me at the docks and managed to stab me. Tristan took me to the hospital to get stitched up.” Carter folds his arms over his chest and studies me. “Why is there a bag on the bed?”

My heart misses a beat. “I… well, I thought we could take a vacation. You have been telling me that you’re going to whisk me away somewhere. Don’t tell me you’re going to go back on your word.”

Carter’s expression shifts and softens. “Yeah, we can go on vacation, but we won’t be able to go anytime soon.”

“Is this because of whoever attacked you?” I take Carter’s hand and pull him back into the room. Then I make him sit down on the chair by the dresser and lift his shirt. He has an angry red welt in the middle of his stomach, with gauze covering the worst of it, including the stitches.

Bile rises in the back of my throat as I kneel in front of him and touch two fingers to his skin. “This looks pretty deep. I hope you got a good look at whoever did this.”

Carter stiffens. “I did, and believe me, they’re going to pay.”

I remove my fingers and glance up at his face. “Was it that new family or their allies?”

Carter presses his lips together and doesn’t say anything.

I stand up and clasp my hands behind my back. “I thought we agreed we weren’t going to keep secrets from each other anymore.”

Carter stands up and pulls his shirt back down. “I’m not keeping things from you, dove. And if I am, it’s for your own good.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like I can’t handle things.” I throw my hands up and make a vague hand gesture. “I’m a lot stronger than you think I am. I can handle a lot, okay?”

Carter advances on me with a strange glint in his eyes. “Have you seen the article?”

Without breaking our gaze, I tilt my head back to look at him. “What article?”

Carter blows out a breath. “It’s nothing important. Just don’t read anything that comes out about me or you. There’s a lot of shit in the press right now.”

I force my lips up into a half smile. “What else is new?”

Carter bridges the distance between us and crushes me to him. “You do know that I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, right? I’ll kill anyone who lays a fucking hand on you, dove.”

“I know.”

Carter pulls back to look at me, and I can see the hunger written in his eyes. He points at the bed, and I obey. After stripping out of my clothes, I drape myself over the bed and watch him. Wordlessly, Carter pulls off his shirt and his pants and leaves them in a heap on the floor. Then he rummages through the dresser drawer and pulls out two sets of handcuffs.

He motions for me to hold my arms out on either side of me. “You’re going to do exactly as I say, dove. And you’re going to like it too.”

“Are you sure you should be exerting that much effort after you’ve been stabbed?”

Carter flips me over and gives my ass a firm smack. “Didn’t I say that you’re going to do what I say? No interruptions, no objections and no questions.”

“But—”

He gives me another firmer slap, and I swallow back the rest of my protest. When I’m quiet, Carter flips me back over and secures the handcuffs on either side of the bed. He gives them a firm tug and leans forward to press his lips to mine. His kisses are different, searing and demanding, like he’s trying to make me forget something.

But it feels like he wants himself to forget, too. I know it has something to do with the article, but I’m too afraid to ask. Because I know if I bring it up, I can’t take it back.

Neither of us can.

So I kiss Carter back with as much emotion as I can, wanting to drive his demons away and assure him, in whatever way I can, that I’m still his. Carter pushes the suitcase away, and it falls to the floor with a clatter, sending my things flying in every direction.

I don’t have to make the decision about our baby now.

There’s still time.

That’s what I keep telling myself as Carter draws back and disappears. When he comes back into the room, he’s got a feather in one hand and a glass with a few ice cubes in it. He crawls forward, and I realize he’s holding a blindfold. After securing it around my head, I hear his mouth parting, and then the ice cube is being pressed against my flushed skin.

Goosebumps break out across every inch of me, and I shiver. Not being able to see Carter is only making this more erotic.

He uses his mouth to move the ice cube down the slope of my chest and over my stomach. Then he stops over my waistline and begins to pepper the area with hot, open-mouthed kisses. I lift my hips off the mattress, eager for more friction.

Carter pushes me down. “You’re meant to be a good and obedient little dove. Remember what happens when you don’t listen to me.”

I tug on my restraints. “I think I need reminding, Carter. Please remind me.”

In one quick move, he undoes the handcuffs, and my hands fall to my sides. Carter removes the blindfold, but before I can process anything else, he drapes me over his lap so my ass faces upward. I brace my elbows on either side of me and twist to face him. He is stroking me with a look of fierce concentration on his face. His fingers move over the tender skin, tracing the spots where the marks have mostly faded.

Wordlessly, he reaches into a bedside drawer and pulls out a belt. When it hits my skin, I don’t flinch, and I don’t look away.

Carter holds my gaze as he hits my behind again, a little harder than the last time. The skin is bruised and tender to the touch. He throws the belt away and hoists me, so my back is pressed against the headboard. My vision sharpens as he re-cuffs one hand and spreads my legs open. Using the feather, he trails a path down my stomach and stops at my center.

“Touch yourself, dove,” Carter says in a deep and husky voice. “I want to see you please yourself.”

I whimper. “I want you to touch me.”

“So impatient today.” Carter makes a low noise in the back of his throat and crawls up so we’re at eye level. He rubs himself against me, and my breath hits my throat. I try to shift, to move closer to him, but I can’t.

Carter remains frustratingly out of my reach.

He continues to rub himself against me, sending little pinpricks of frustration through me. But Carter continues to ignore my whimpers, and when I realize I’m getting nowhere, I sigh. Slowly, I drop my free hand between us and trace a path down to my heated core. I stroke myself using one finger, then two before I plunge three fingers between my wet folds.

It isn’t long before I’m moaning and chanting Carter’s name.

He stops rubbing himself against me and sits back on his legs.

Carter watches me so intently with so much hunger that I think I’m going to explode. I arch my back, and my fingers move faster as if chasing something I can’t see. I squeeze my eyes shut and imagine Carter on top of me, ramming into me with wild and unrelenting abandon. Then the image shifts, and I see Carter on his hands and knees with his head between my legs.

I can almost feel his tongue on me.

Driving me wild and pushing me past the brink of insanity.

I climb higher and higher until abruptly, Carter takes my wrist between his hands. He ties up my other hand, and both my eyes fly open. I’m panting and half-crazed with impatience. Through hooded eyes, I give him an incredulous look and blow away an errant lock of hair.

“I like you like this, dove,” Carter tells me with a wicked smile. “Then again, I like you in every way. On your hands and knees in front of me, with your ass hanging in the air. There are so many positions to try.”

I squirm and lick my dry lips. “Carter.”

“You know what I like most?” Carter is on top of me now, inches away from my center. I try to shift, but it’s no use.

I’m completely at his mercy. The thought alone nearly has me coming undone.

“I like it when you beg when you’re half-blinded by your desire for me that you’ll say anything and do anything.” Carter grips the back of my neck, sending dual waves of pain and pleasure through me. He holds my gaze and thrusts into me. “Like this. You like it rough, don’t you, dove?”

I swallow and nod.

Carter eases out and slams back into me. “Louder. I want the whole neighborhood to hear you scream.”

I focus on my breathing and the beautiful man before me. “Yes.”

Carter stops moving inside of me and stays still. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, I love it when you fuck me like this.” I breathe, the words pouring out of me in a rush. “I love being at your mercy, and I love it when you drive me wild.”

Carter starts thrusting again, with practiced ease, each movement sending shocks through my system. “What else?”

“I love it when you play with me and make me feel like I’m the only woman in the world.” My chest is tight now, and I feel a familiar rush building within me, growing stronger and stronger. “Fuck, Carter. Yeah, just like that.”

He digs his nails into my hips and sinks his teeth into my neck.

I throw my head back and let out a deep, throaty groan. “Carter, I… I… oh, God.”

Carter draws back to look at me and places his hands on either side of the headboard. “God has nothing to do with this, dove. Only I do. I’m the only one who can ever make you feel this good. Don’t you ever forget it? You’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” I repeat, in a daze. “I’ll always be yours.”

Carter’s fingers dart to my clit, and with a few quick flicks, my entire body jerks and spasms. The force of my orgasm rips through me as I ride out my high. He throws his head back and gives a few more deep thrusts. I’m still staring at the ceiling, trying to draw air into my lungs when Carter’s release comes. For a while, he stays still and doesn’t move, so much so that I begin to wonder if he’s fallen asleep.

I force both eyes open and wriggle underneath him.

A heartbeat later, Carter unlocks my wrists, and they fall to my sides. With a sigh, I wind my fingers through his hair, and he pressed his forehead to mine. Then I place my hand on his chest, over the pounding of his heart, and try to hear past the pounding in my ears.

I want us to always feel this way, to always feel this close. As if nothing in this world can come between us.

To my surprise, Carter doesn’t move right away, nor does he shift away from my touch. On the contrary, he leans into it, and as his breathing evens out, I wonder if I should say something. I debate whether or not to tell him about the article in the spirit of ensuring there are no secrets between us.

But as soon as I open my mouth, the words won’t come. Because I know what’ll happen if Carter knows I know.

He’ll double down on hunting down Lilian just to make sure the article doesn’t hurt me anymore. And I know he has more important things to worry about than my pride and my ego.

The last thing I need is to find out that Lilian’s name has been added to Carter’s list of collateral damage. With a sigh, I release the back of Carter’s neck and fall backward onto the mattress. He shifts, and I catch the myriad of emotions on his face before he stamps them out. With a smirk, he stands up and pulls on his boxers. He glances over his shoulder at me, which sends a jolt of electricity straight through me.

How am I ever going to leave this man? How am I supposed to walk away from the only man I’ve ever loved?

A lump rises in the back of my throat as I sit up and draw the covers up to my chest. Wordlessly, Carter ducks into the bathroom. A moment later, I hear the sound of running water. Reluctantly, I lower the sheet and swing my legs over the side of the bed. After flipping the suitcase onto its back, I pick my clothes up off the floor and re-fold them.

In a daze, I set them back in the bag, pausing to run my fingers over the edge of the music box.

When I’m done, some of the knots in my stomach have unfurled, and everything doesn’t feel as bad as it did before.

How can it be when I’m still buzzing. When it feels as if every inch of me is thoroughly satiated.

Pushing away all negative thoughts, I step into the bathroom and pull the curtain aside. Carter is underneath the shower head, hair matted to his side and an expectant smile on his face. My heart does an odd little somersault as I step in, and Carter pulls me to him. His lips find mine, and I melt into his embrace. When he spins me around and presses my back against the wall, I want to melt into a puddle at his feet.

I want to be in his arms forever.

He places one arm on either side of me, caging me to him, and I don’t mind. I wish I knew how to stay here with him so nothing and no one can come in between us.

A sigh falls from my lips, and Carter draws back. In silence, he reaches for the bar of soap and lathers it up. He picks up the loofa and scrubs my skin, so I’m spotless and hungry for him. Once he’s done, I take the other loofa and the bar of soap and return the favor. I linger while I clean his body, admiring his lean muscles, the tautness of his stomach, and his strong, powerful shoulders.

When I reach his chest, Carter makes a low growling sound and hoists me off my feet.

This time, when he kisses me, I know he’s trying to run away from something.

We stand there for the longest time, kissing until the need for air becomes too great.

Abruptly, Carter releases me and switches off the water. Then he hoists me over his shoulders and carries me into the bedroom. He returns with a towel, and I wrap it around my waist. I sit back on my legs and watch as he dries himself off, completely and utterly mesmerized by him. Once Carter is done, he pulls on a pair of pants and a button-down shirt.

Through hooded eyes, I continue to watch him. Until he leans forward and gives me another earth-shattering kiss. I move to deepen the kiss, and he growls.

“Where are you going?”

“I have a meeting at Anita’s.” Carter bites on my lower lip. “Come with me, dove. You can keep me company and sit on my lap.”

I choke back a laugh. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t get a lot of work finished that way.”

Carter pulls back and gives me a knowing smirk. “I’d get plenty of work finished, dove. Don’t underestimate me.”

I shake my head. “Never.”

Carter gives me one last look before he disappears. I listen for the sound of the door opening and closing. As soon as it does, I fall back against the mattress and bring one arm over my head. The other cups my stomach. I count backward from ten and wait for the fluttering in my chest to abate.

What am I supposed to do now?

I can’t possibly leave Carter.

***

Carter

“How did she take the news?” Tristan pushes himself off the wall and takes a step in my direction. “I imagine she wants to hunt Lilian down herself.”

I shrug. “She would if she’d read the article.”

Tristan raises an eyebrow. “How has she not seen it yet? It’s all over the news and social media.”

“I don’t need you to tell me,” I snap with a pointed look in Tristan’s direction. “Are you going to contribute something useful, or are we just going to stand out here and waste time?”

Tristan opens his mouth and slams it shut.

I climb up the steps of the front porch and push past him. As soon as I step into Anita’s, the loud voices of my family hit me first, followed by the distinct smell of tomato sauce and soup. I venture further into the house and find everyone gathered around the kitchen counter. A few of the Blackthornes are on their phones, their eyebrows knotted together.

Others are whispering among themselves.

All of them straighten when they see me, and conversation trails off.

I don’t look at anyone as I make a beeline for the counter and pull out one of the chairs. The screeching sound echoes in the house, but no one moves or even acknowledges it. I sit down, link my fingers together, and glance around the room.

“I know you’ve all seen the article by now. Somebody better have a fucking solution for this.”

A murmur of unease rises through the crowd.

“And why the fuck is Lilian still running around? She was meant to be taken care of weeks ago.”

“I went back to see Frances today,” Tristan replies, with a quick look around the room. “He’s given us the locations of a few more addresses and known associates. Paul is following up on that information.”

But it’s obvious he hasn’t found anything, or Tristan would’ve told me by now.

I clench my hands into fists at my side and stand up. “This is not the news I want. We don’t need any more scrutiny, not with the new mayor breathing down our necks.”

Especially because I have no idea what kind of information Lilian has armed him with.

And now that Donahue has shown his true colors, we can’t afford a war on all fronts—not without allies and more resources.

Fuck.

How many of them already know about Donahue’s backstabbing? How many of them saw it coming?

I swing my gaze over to Tristan, who is leaning against a wall with his arms folded over his chest. “What’s going on with the Philipses and the Natoris?”

“They’re still recovering from our last hit,” Tristian replies, with a lift of his chin. “We won’t have anything to worry about for a while. They need to re-group.”

I give my cousin a tight nod. “Fucking finally. We need more news like this. What about Donahue? I want his fucking his head on a platter.”

And I want to serve it to my entire family… and Isabella.

There’s nothing I hate more than a rat who gets away.

Imagining what I’ll do when I see him is the only thing keeping me from prowling the streets and hunting him down myself. That and the fact that I need to find a solution to my more immediate problem.

Lilian fucking McCoy.

I should’ve known she was more trouble than she was worth, and I should’ve taken care of it when I had the chance. Any restraint I have is growing less and less by the day.

With a slight shake of my head, I stand up straighter and allow my gaze to sweep over the room. “Call our contacts in the press. Get me someone on the phone who knows how to kill this story. Now.”

Everyone erupts into a frenzy of activity except for Tristan, who drifts closer to me. He waits until everyone else is occupied or gone before he leans against the counter opposite me. “What about a press release?”

“I’ve already spoken to Mitch. He’s looking for the legal repercussions of the article and trying to determine if a press conference will do more damage than good.”

“And the mayor?”

“Are you just going to stand there stating the fucking obvious? I don’t need a play-by-play, Tristan. I already know what’s at stake.”

And I know that containing this isn’t going to be easy. Between Lilian, the warring families, and now Donahue, we have our hands full. For the first time in a long time, I don’t know where the hell I’m supposed to start.

All I know is that I regret leaving Isabella in bed to come here.

I’m tempted to go back home, crawl into bed, and pull Isabella to me. I want the smell and feel of her to wash over me and keep everything else at bay.

But I know now isn’t the time to lose my focus. If we have any hope of fighting this off, the Blackthorne family needs every last part of me to be aware and present. And ready to bury our enemies.

It’s what I’m good at.

It’s one of the many reasons why I was chosen as the head of the Blackthorne family. After another brief pause, I unclench my hands and take my phone out of my pocket. “When you’re done, we have something else to take care of.”

“Got somewhere else you got to be?”

I give Tristan a cold look. “We know where Lilian is working. It’s high time I visited her boss and let him know who he’s dealing with.”

Tristan and I exchange a look as he pushes himself off the counter. “I’m ready whenever you are.”