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

Chapter Seven

Carter

“How is she?”

I walk over to where Anita is standing, an apron tied around her waist and a ladle in her hand. “All things considered, I think she’s doing well.”

Anita frowns and peers into the pot of soup. “Have you thought about getting her to see a professional?”

I give my aunt an incredulous look. “And what is she going to tell a shrink? It’s not like she can be honest with them.”

Anita shrugs, the furrow between her brows deepening. “It’s just a suggestion. Everyone is waiting for you in the dining room.”

I press a kiss to the side of Anita’s head and brush past her, yelping when she swats me away. In the dining room, several of the Blackthorne men are already pacing, with Tristan, Ernesto, and Paul standing near the other side of the table. Behind them, the flames in the fireplace are crackling, red and orange flames dancing as they cast long shadows across the walls.

“Have they seen reason yet?”

Lorenzo glances around the room and clears his throat. “No, boss. They want to stick to the terms of the agreement. We’ve already hit them in several key locations, but it seems like they’ve got more money pouring in.”

“Fucking Hughes,” I yell, pausing to slam my hands against the table hard enough to make it rattle.

No one flinches or reacts to the gesture. Not when they’re all used to seeing much worse from me.

“We need to hit them harder,” I realize after a lengthy pause. “Target one of their warehouses, and we won’t let up until they come back to the table with a better offer.”

A murmur of agreement rises through the room.

“In the meantime, our businesses will continue to operate in the shadows.” I straighten my back and let my gaze sweep over the room, daring anyone to defy me. “It won’t be long before those bastards are begging for another ceasefire.”

But I’m not going to give it to them. I’m not going to stop until they are on their hands and knees begging for leniency.

“Where the hell is Donahue? We agreed that you’d bring me his head on a silver platter.” I direct my words to Lorenzo, who has the common sense to look ashamed as he lowers his gaze. “I want his balls, Lorenzo. He needs to be made an example of after what he did.”

“There’s no sign of him or Lilian.”

I sweep everything on the table onto the floor, sending sheets of paper and a few cups and plates flying in every direction. Shards of glass are everywhere, but no one moves or says anything. I’m breathing heavily as I flip the table over, unable to keep my rage in check. Eventually, it’s Tristan who steps forward and places a hand on my arm.

But it’s the sound of Isabella’s voice that stops me from doing something stupid.

I release a deep breath and give everyone a withering look. “Tomorrow, everyone better be here with better news. The Blackthornes will not be made a mockery of.”

One by one, they trickle out of the room, leaving me alone with Tristan.

I give him a pointed look, and he exits, passing Isabella on his way past. She pokes her head in, sees me, and scrambles back out. When I step out of the room, Isabella is in the kitchen with Anita, their heads bent together in conversation. Her hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, and she has her feet stuffed into a pair of slippers that are two sizes too big.

But she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And when she offers me a hesitant smile, my chest hurts.

An hour later, after Isabella has cleaned her plate, I insist on carrying her back upstairs. She offers no resistance as I set her down on the mattress and climb in next to her. When I pull her to me, she stiffens. I press kisses to the back of her neck and run my fingers down her back, but Isabella doesn’t react.

By the time she drifts off, the knots in my stomach have increased, and the bile in the back of my throat is worse. Slowly, I withdraw from Isabella and pad into the bathroom in my shorts. After splashing cold water on my face, I lift my gaze up to the mirror.

Wild, bloodshot eyes stare back at me. I frown and release the sink.

Isabella is whimpering and crying out in her sleep. I sit on the edge of the bed and pull her to me. She keeps muttering and thrashing until I kiss the back of her neck. Abruptly, she goes slack, and her breath hitches in her throat.

“Carter?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you find Rich’s body?” She twists to face me, and even by the pale light of the moon, I can see the terror and fear written all over her face. “It should’ve been in the driveway.”

“There was no body in the driveway, dove. He’s probably gone into hiding again. Fucking rat.”

Isabella sniffs and shakes her head. “He wouldn’t have been able to make it far, but maybe I’m remembering it wrong. There was so much going on… We were standing closer to the neighbors, where he parked the car. I don’t know… Why can’t I remember?”

I freeze, and my heart jumps into my throat. “Why is it so important for you to remember? It doesn’t matter where you were before you drove off, does it?”

“It does.”

Ice settles in my veins. “Why?”

“Because I shot him,” Isabella whispers, her voice catching toward the end. “I… I didn’t mean to kill him, Carter. I swear.”

My heart is pounding in my ears now. “What are you talking about?”

Isabella’s eyes find mine in the dark, and they are wide and unfocused. “I didn’t mean to. He kept trying to make me go with him, and I thought he was going to hurt me and the baby.”

I place both hands on her shoulders and hold her gaze. “Are you sure?”

“I saw his body.” Isabella’s voice is growing smaller with each word. She wraps her arms around herself as she shivers. “I had to pat his pockets for the keys. The blood, Carter… there was so much blood.”

I taste bile in the back of my throat. “Did you check for a pulse?”

Isabella’s eyes widen further, and she shakes her head. “No, I… he wasn’t moving. Did you hear what I said?”

I crush Isabella to me and release a harsh breath. “I heard you, dove. You have nothing to worry about. I’ll take care of it.”

But first, I need to make sure Isabella doesn’t spiral further.

Now that I know the real reason she’s been keeping me at arm’s length, my mind starts racing. On the one hand, I’m relieved that it has nothing at all to do with me. On the other hand, I’m terrified of what this newfound information is going to do to us.

To Isabella, in particular.

Even on her best day, my dove is delicate and fragile, and I know how much she hates violence. I still remember how shaken and ill at ease she was when the mayor’s man broke into our house. It took her days to shake his image away, and she wasn’t even the one who pulled the trigger.

Knowing that she now has blood in her hands doesn’t sit well with me. Because I know this is going to push her to the brink of insanity. And I have no idea how to help her.

Isabella sniffles quietly. “Do you hate me now?”

I draw back to look at her. “Dove, I could never hate you. I don’t give a shit what you had to do to protect yourself. We all have to do messed up shit to protect ourselves.”

Isabella’s breath hitches in her throat. “I’ve never had to.”

I open my mouth to respond, and my phone rings, the sound slicing through the air. With a frown, I release Isabella and stand up. When I reach the nightstand, I fumble in the dark until my fingers close around the metal. I press it to my ear and turn my back on Isabella.

“This better be good.”

“We’ve got a lead on Lilian,” Lorenzo replies in a quiet voice. “We’re chasing it down right now.”

I bend down to retrieve my shirt and pull it over my head. “I need you to look into something else.”

I feel Isabella’s eyes on my back as I leave the room. Downstairs, I drift into the living room and peer through the window. Across the lawn, I can see Tristan in the kitchen, moonlight gleaming off his skin. When I gesture to him, he downs the glass of water in his hand and nods. Then he heads in the direction of the door. A few short minutes later, there’s a soft rap on the kitchen’s backdoor, and I open it to let Tristan in.

Together, we creep into the dining room, and I let the door click shut behind me. I interrupt Lorenzo mid-sentence and hang up. “I need you to look into something for me.”

Tristan shoves his hands into his pockets. “What do you need?”

“Has Rich been found?”

Tristan shakes his head. “Not yet, why?”

I run a hand over my face. “Reach out to Paul’s man on the inside. He’s been cooperative so far. Offer him triple the amount of money to help us find out what happened to Rich.”

Tristan’s expression darkens. “You don’t think that son of a bitch is still alive, do you?”

I frown. “He’s a cockroach, but he’s hurt Isabella enough times, and I want to be sure, especially after…”

Tristan studies my face, his expression growing more and more confused. “The police assumed that he crawled away from the car wreck and bled out somewhere else.”

I press my lips together and don’t say a word. I can’t betray Isabella like that, not when she had a hard enough time telling me. There’s no telling what’ll happen to her if word of this gets out.

I clear my throat. “I just want Isabella to have some peace of mind. She deserves it.”

Since I can’t change the fact that she has blood on her hands, and I can’t exorcise her demons, no matter how much I want to, the least I can do is make sure she knows it wasn’t in vain. Knowing Rich is no longer a threat will help Isabella feel better.

It has to. Because I have no idea how else I can make things better for her.

After discussing a few more things, Tristan leaves the house through the back door. I run into a sleepy, rob-clad Anita on my way up the stairs, and she blinks at me. “Is everything okay? Was that Tristan I just saw running across the lawn?”

I offer Anita a tight smile. “Nothing to worry about. Go back to sleep.”

Anita snorts and waves my comment away. “This is my house. I’ll do what I want.”

With a slight shake of my head, I race up the stairs, taking them two at a time. When I reach the room, Isabella’s whimpers spill out. I push the door open and feel for the knife tucked into my sock. Little particles of silver light dance on the floorboards, but everything else is undisturbed.

Isabella tosses and turns, the covers bunching up around her legs.

As I drift closer, I realize she is drenched in sweat and breathing uneasily. Hastily, I throw the knife into the nearest drawer and climb onto the bed. Isabella cries out louder now, muttering my name over and over like some kind of plea. I gather her into my arms and bury my face in her hair. But Isabella is no more aware of me than she is of anything else.

Over and over, she pleads with me, each word like a knife through my heart.

How am I supposed to help her fight enemies I can’t see?

I continue to hold her to me, pressing light kisses to the back of her neck, the side of her face, and every other patch of skin I can. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Isabella goes slack, although her breathing still remains uneven. I lay her down on the mattress carefully and tuck her into my side. My hand moves from the back of her neck to the small of her back, and I wait.

Slowly, Isabella rises from her stupor, and I feel her eyes on the side of my face. “What happened?”

I squeeze her shoulders. “Nothing to worry about, dove. Go to sleep.”

Isabella sighs, and it takes her a while to fall back asleep. I stare at the ceiling the entire time and wonder what’s going to happen next. Is she ever going to be able to look at me without seeing what I’ve turned her into?

What my life has forced her to become.

Little by little, my eyelids grow heavy until I flip onto my side and curl up against Isabella’s back. When sleep finally comes, I welcome it open with arms.

In my dreams, Isabella and I are on a deserted beach. The afternoon sun is high in the sky, and there is nothing but clear blue skies overhead. Isabella is in a two-piece red bikini, showing off every curve and every inch of her smooth, unblemished skin.

When she smiles at me, something in my stomach tightens.

I pull her onto my lap, and she wriggles against me. “What if people see?”

“There’s no one else here, dove,” I reply with a smirk. “Nothing else matters.”

With that, I untie the string on the back of her bikini, allowing her breasts to spill forward. Her breath hitches in her throat, hunger playing out across her features. She links her fingers over my neck and rubs herself against me. I growl and lower my head, taking one nipple between my teeth.

Isabella’s answering moan reverberates inside of my head. She fumbles with the waistband of my swimming trunks when I move onto the other nipple. I lick and suck and flick them until they’re both as hard as pebbles.

Abruptly, I stand up and push the swimming trunks down to my ankles. Isabella is still in her bikini bottoms, so I get down on my knees and use my teeth to remove them. With a smirk, I stand back up and admire her, her beautiful and tanned body on display.

“Lie down on the sand,” I tell her in a tight voice. “And hold your hands up over your head.”

Isabella licks her lips and does as she’s told, a flicker of impatience moving across her face. Using her bikini, I tie her hands together and give them a firm tug. She is panting now, the smell of her juices nearly driving me crazy. I run my fingers down the length of her body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in my wake.

Fuck. How is it that I can’t get enough of her?

She arches her back off the ground when my fingers find their way between her thighs. Isabella’s head falls to the side, and she moves her legs. When she tries to wrap them around my waist, I move away and flip her onto her front. Her ass hangs in the air, and she is completely at my mercy as I glance over at our belongings. Finding a belt there, I wrap it around my hand, my pulse quickening in anticipation.

She is mine. Every single part of her.

And I am going to make sure she remembers.

“Carter,” Isabella pleads in a thick voice. “What’s happening?”

“That’s not my name,” I remind her, pausing to give her ass a firm squeeze. “What are you supposed to call me?”

Isabella makes a low, choked sound.

I slap her ass again, harder this time. “I can’t hear you.”

“Sir.” Isabella gasps out, her tender flesh turning a bright shade of red. “Please, sir.”

I use the belt to hit her ass, and the sound of it makes me feel better. “Not yet. You need to learn that I’m the one who’s in control here. Not you, and when I tell you to fucking do something, I expect to be obeyed.”

Isabella twists her head to look at me, her eyes wide and unflinching. “Yes, sir.”

After throwing the belt away, I turn Isabella around so her face is at eye level with my chest. Then, I lower myself onto my knees and bring Isabella’s head closer to me. She smiles that beautiful devilish smile of hers and begins to lick me. I fist my fingers through her hair and use every ounce of control I have not to thrust into her mouth.

I want this to last. I want her to remember every last second. Because here in my dreams, not only is Isabella completely and wholly mine, but nothing else matters. Except for the feel of her smooth and capable tongue running down the length of my shaft. And the sound of her heavy breathing, like music to my ears.

Isabella looks up at me, her bright eyes filled with hunger and determination. “How does it feel, sir?”

My grip on her hair tightens as I swing my hips back and forth. “It needs more.”

With that, I thrust into her mouth, and Isabella takes all of me in. Her tongue moves quickly as if her life depends on it, and a thick fog of desire settles over me. I ease in and out of her in quick, precise movements, pushing us both closer and closer to the edge of oblivion. Wave after wave of desire builds within me.

Her eyes water, and Isabella gags, but she doesn’t stop. Instead, she presses her wrists into the sand, giving herself better balance.

I see white and go still when Isabella begins to move her head back and forth, her teeth just barely grazing my tip. There is a low ringing in my ears as I tug on the back of Isabella’s head, forcing her to stop. She licks her bruised red lips and gives me a confused look. I flip her onto her knees and position myself behind her.

When I thrust into Isabella, something in me snaps.

A fierce gust of wind rips past, and her skin breaks out into goosebumps. She whimpers when I ease out and slam back into her. Again and again, I bring her closer to the edge of release, and all Isabella can do is cry out for me.

She’s as desperate for me as I am for her. I am drunk on adrenaline, and the feel of her wet juices wrapped around me. I am invincible.

Isabella twists her head over her shoulders and bucks against me. “Oh, Carter. Mmm, yes.”

I grip the back of her neck and push her head forward. “Be quiet, dove. And let me fuck you.”

A part of me knows I’m not going to bring Isabella back this way. I can’t fuck the pain and guilt out of her system.

But I can sure as hell try.

So I continue to ease in and out of her, my slow and practiced movements growing wild and reckless. I dig my nails into her waist, my knees digging into the sand beneath my feet. Isabella is crying out now, her moans carried away by the wind. Sand and dust are being kicked up in every direction, but none of it matters.

Not when I bury my face against the small of her back and squeeze my eyes shut. Still, my release feels frustratingly out of reach.

I remove my head and wind my fingers through Isabella’s hair. Then I pull her head back and press kisses to the side of her neck. Isabella hisses, her heavy breathing echoing inside of my head. The smell of her sweat and perfume wafts up my nostrils as she writhes and spasms, the force of her orgasm ripping through her.

When she goes slack, I give a few more quick thrusts and empty myself into her.

Isabella’s arms tremble as she pitches forward and groans. Then she twists onto her back and stares up at me, her entire body slick with sweat and a strange smile on her face. I lean forward to kiss her, and she lingers, her arms coming up around my neck. My chest tightens as I pull back and collapse onto the sand next to her. In the distance, seagulls cry out to each other, and the waves crash against the shore.

She tucks herself into my side, and I enjoy the warmth of the sun on my face.

When Isabella props herself up to look at me, my eyes are still closed. She presses a kiss to my forehead, and my hands move to her waist. Isabella says something else, but I can’t make out what she’s saying. I force one eye open and then the other, only to find myself alone on the beach.

Dark clouds gather on the horizon, and the sun is nowhere to be found.

I jolt up, cup my hands together, and call out for Isabella.

As I race across the sand, the wind slapping me across the face, more and more dark clouds gather, and a streak of yellow lightning lights up the sky. Abruptly, I stop in the middle of the beach, sink to my knees, and stare at the angry waves gathering momentum.

I squeeze my eyes shut again, murmur something unintelligible under my breath, and exhale.

When I blink, I’m sitting up in bed, my heart hammering unsteadily against my chest and Isabella’s soft breathing filling the air around me. Slowly, I rub my hands over my eyes, and my surroundings come into focus, revealing the door to the connecting bathroom propped open, a pile of clothes on a chair in front of the desk, and a half-shaped moon outside the window.

With a grunt, I throw myself back against the mattress and release a deep breath.

It isn’t until I glance down that I realize how hard I am.

Frowning, I twist onto my side and stare at Isabella’s sleeping form, curled onto her side, with her shorts barely covering her ass and a see-through white shirt. I inch closer to Isabella and run a finger down the length of her back. She shivers and shifts closer to me, mumbling something in her sleep. Slowly, I bridge the distance between us and push her hair forward, exposing the back of her neck.

When I press a kiss there, Isabella doesn’t react. My fingers sink into her waist, and I pepper her neck with hot-open-mouthed kisses. For a long moment, nothing else happens.

I bury my face in her strawberry-scented hair and wait. Then Isabella shifts and moves away from me, leaving a few inches of space between us. Even in her dreams, she can’t get away from me fast enough.

Bile rises in the back of my throat as I throw the covers off and swing my legs over the side of the bed. In the semi-darkness, I pat for my shorts. After pulling them on with a snap, I creep out of the room and into the carpeted hallway. Downstairs, the kitchen is lit by the pale glow of the moon, and everything remains untouched.

I fill up a glass of water and stare out the window. Across the lawn, I see our house silhouetted by the light of the moon.

Are we ever going to go back there? Or has the house, like everything else, been tainted?

I down the water in one gulp and push myself away from the sink. When I hear a pair of light footsteps, I’m rummaging through the cupboards for something stronger.

Anything to burn away the rejection that lingers in Isabella’s wake.

“I keep the good stuff somewhere safe,” Anita says in a thick voice. She shuffles into the kitchen and pauses to tighten the sash around her waist. Without looking at me, she pushes her hair out of her eyes and ducks underneath the kitchen sink. I squint as I see her hand dart out, and something clicks. When her head re-emerges, she’s got a triumphant but sleep-filled smile on her face.

She pulls out a bottle of brandy and sets it down on the counter. “This is my well-kept secret. I expect you to keep it to yourself.”

My lips lift into a reluctant half-smile. “This conversation never happened.”

Anita pushes herself up to the tips of her toes and retrieves two glasses. After setting them down, she untwists the cap and pours a generous amount into both glasses. “How’s Isabella doing?”

I tip back the glass, and the liquid burns a path down my throat. “I have no fucking clue.”

Anita tips back her own glass and then eyes me over the rim. “I know patience has never been your strong suit, but if you push her too hard, you might lose her for good.”

I take the bottle and pour myself some more. “It feels like I’m going to lose her anyway.”

If it’s not to violence and chaos, then it’s to Isabella’s guilty conscience. There’s a reason I’ve been trying but failing to picture how we move forward from this. Even if a part of me still won’t admit it.

Anita frowns and leans against the counter, her features suddenly softer and more vulnerable. “You can’t give up on her, Carter. I’m not going to pretend to understand the dynamic between the two of you, but I can tell you one thing. She needs you as much as you need her.”

I tilt back the drink and exhale. “What if we’re not good for each other anymore? I’m not a knight in fucking armor, Anita. Isabella knows that, just like she knows that we can’t raise a baby in the middle of all this.”

No matter how badly we want to.

Anita blows out a breath. “When two people love each other and have been through a lot together, they find a way to make it work.”

I study my aunt, and a jolt courses through me. “You sound like Dad.”

Anita’s lips lift into the ghost of a smile. “Your dad wasn’t the only romantic in the family. Granted, he was far better at the grand gestures than your uncle Matteo, but we could’ve given him and your mom a run for their family.”

Something low and pleasant unfurls in the center of my chest. “I can’t imagine that.”

Anita’s smile grows wider. “Well, you wouldn’t. You were off in your own world. You always have been.”

I grunt but can’t come up with a response.

It’s been a long time since I’ve thought of my parents’ relationship. While a part of me remembers my dad buying my mom flowers and twirling her around the kitchen, I’m ashamed to realize I can no longer remember what they sounded like. Or what they looked like.

Reliving that chapter of my life is too painful. And it’s pointless.

What good is it going to do me to chase ghosts of people long gone?

Anita reaches across the counter and pats my hand. “I know you and Isabella are going to find a way to work things out. In the meantime, you keep fighting for both of you.”

I search my aunt’s face. “What if she doesn’t want me to?”

“Unless she explicitly tells you, then you don’t stop fighting,” Anita replies after a brief pause. “Isabella is strong, but you have to remember that even strong people can’t keep it together all the time. She’s been through a lot, more than anyone should have to in a short amount of time.”

I nod and exhale.

“She and the baby are going to be fine,” Anita adds in a softer voice. “Now, why don’t you go upstairs and get some sleep? There’s going to be a lot to do tomorrow.”

I press my lips together and give her a curt nod.

Anita squeezes my shoulders on the way past.

I wheel around to watch her leave and wait until I hear the soft click of her door. Then I pour myself another drink and glare at Anita’s empty lawn, with its trimmed grass and bushy trees. With a frown, I turn away from the window and head for the stairs. I take them two at a time, and by the time I reach the top, Anita’s words have completely sunk in.

In the bedroom, Isabella is still fast asleep on the other side of the bed.

I let the door click shut and kick off my slippers. Before I climb into bed, I step out of my shorts. Keeping my hands at my sides and resisting the urge to reach for Isabella is hard. I curl my hands into fists, and I’m counting backward when she sighs and flips onto her other side so she’s facing me. A furrow appears between her brows as Isabella closes the distance between us and curls up against me.

My chest grows and swells with emotion.

Carefully, I drape an arm over her shoulders and swallow. “I’m not going anywhere, dove. We’re going to get through this.”