Hers To Keep (Servite Academy #2)

Chapter 9

Chapter

Nine

SCARLETT

A ce takes off back toward the group nestled around the fire, leaving me high and dry. I should be glad he’s gone, but the ache between my legs misses his closeness. Fucking hormones. I run into the cabin, rushing toward the kitchen, and trashing the cupboards until I find what I’m looking for, a bottle of whiskey.

I run up to the room we’re staying in, not stopping until I’m safe behind the closed door.

Safe.

What a funny word. There’s no such thing as safety. There’s always some kind of danger lurking around the corner, hiding in the shadows, waiting to strike, aiming to kill. Mine just happens to be sharing my bed.

I lean back against the door, slowly sliding down until I drop on my ass, my knees bent against my chest, the bottle tightly held in my hand. I feel as if I am suffocating, helplessly gasping for air. I nervously twist the cap off, my fingers trembling as I bring the bottle to my lips, throwing my head back and swallowing the amber liquid, loving the intensity of the burn as it glides down my throat. I cough, almost spitting it out as my body starts convulsing, wailing sobs erupt from me, as tears flow endlessly out of my sockets.

The past two nights, the past three months, have been an eternity in this hell, a hellish nightmare, a diabolic dream.

I’ve held it in for so long, I can’t contain my anger, my emotions any longer. For years I wore an impassive look, I was careless and carefree. And now it’s as if my every move is being watched. Every breath I take, is a breath he holds against me. And the worst part is, Ace should be my confidante. The partner I’ve chosen to walk along this merciless road. Instead, he’s the monster leading me into temptation, dragging me down to hell.

I hold the bottle against my lips, gulping down another swig of the whiskey. I need to stop feeling. To numb the pain I feel in my soul, to dull the ache in my core, to mute the beating of my heart, which beats erratically for him. I can’t take the agony any longer, every time I look into his eyes is just a reminder of all I’ve lost. Of all I am sacrificing every day to protect those around me. He may not be directly at fault, but he is guilty by association, and many have been condemned for much less.

Finally, after who knows how long, I calm down slightly. Having nearly finished half the bottle, I stumble over to the bathroom, stripping out of my clothes, as I drag my feet behind me. Inside, I find the massive shower, encased in glass walls. The tiles around the back and floor are a shiny black and white marbled pattern.

I turn and lean against the sink—the bottle slipping from my fingers—the glass shattering loudly as it hits the floor. I look up at my reflection, my eyes swollen and black, mascara smeared making me look like a drugged-up raccoon. My lips are red and inflamed from the intensity of our kiss, my cheeks flushed and sore from the tears, like acid rain, which burned them as they fell. I’m completely naked, my tattoos like runes covering my body, each hiding the pain that lies beneath them.

I grin wickedly at the foolish girl staring back at me. At the forsaken angel who lost her wings, had them torn out from her back as she fell from the heavens into the depths of hell.

I head into the shower, turning the water on full force, the scathing hot water burning away the sins I’ve committed, the horror I’ve witnessed, and all the lies I’ve told as I stand beneath it. I’m fairly sure my skin is now red and scorched, but I don’t care. Maybe the outside will finally match how I feel on the inside. A body is full of scars, marking my flawless skin, mirroring the brokenness inside of me.

Leaning my head forward, my forehead rests against the cold marble wall when the door suddenly creaks open.

I know it’s him.

I can sense him, before he even enters. It’s as if the air has been sucked out of the room, making space for his darkness to consume it. I don’t turn to him. I keep my eyes shut, my forehead against the wall, as I hear him approach. I wouldn’t be able to see him even if I tried.

The room is now covered in hot steam, fogging everything in sight. But I can feel him getting closer. With each step he takes my breath quickens, my heartbeats turn erratic, my body tensing as I hear a zipper come undone. I should run out of here, I should turn and scream at the top of my lungs for him to get out, but my body remains frozen under the heated gaze of his icy blue eyes as they appear before me.

“Shit.” A low curse escapes him when he realizes I’m standing motionless under scathing hot water. “Red, what the fuck!” he yells, hurrying toward me, wrapping my body with his as he pulls me out from under the water. My skin is tender and uncomfortably stings as his cold chest touches mine.

“Aahh,” I groan, falling back against him. I feel the rough zipper of his jeans against my ass and realize he must not have had time to undress before noticing how hot the water was running.

“Are you fucking crazy?” he yells, turning me to face him but it’s not anger I hear in his voice. His eyes look deeply into mine, his pupils dilating, showing just how fucked up he is. “You could have caused some serious damage, gotten second-degree burns or worse. What were you thinking?”

Fear. I sense fear in his tone as he continues to watch me with an unreadable expression.

“I feel nothing,” I tell him, laughing like a fucking maniac, throwing my head back against him. “Pinch me. Look I’m numb, nothing,” I say, pinching the red skin of my arm.

He looks down at the floor by our feet, noticing the broken liquor bottle shattered before us and the bloody gashes on my flesh.

That’s when my resolve snaps like a fucking twig. I can’t take the look of pity that appears in his eyes as he looks back up at me. Ace Servite doesn’t get to feel bad for me, not when he’s the culprit in charge of all my agony and sorrow.

I push him away, making him stumble slightly, surprised.

“Because of you! It’s all because of you, always because of you.” My earlier numbness turns to rage directed at the nearest entity, in this case, him. “You did this. Made me into a cruel creature capable of betrayal, capable of lying to those who mean everything to me.”

“Scarlett, please, baby, calm down,” he pleads, pulling me back against him. I’m so angry and irritated I don’t even realize I’m standing here naked as we argue. My raw flesh not even feeling the ache of his searing touch.

“I don’t want to calm down. I want to get out of here! I want to go back to the way my life was before I met you. Before they dragged here to this hell. I was miserable, but I was miserable surrounded by people who cared about me, who loved me. Now I’m just surrounded by monsters who want to tear me apart, piece by piece, limb by limb, only to sew me back up the way they deem fit. The worst part, I don’t have a clue why!” My body falls weakly against him, losing all semblance of strength.

“Babe, that’s not true, he just…” he mutters, anxiously running a hand through his disheveled hair.

“Holds all the power? Yeah I got that,” I answer, pulling away. “And you’re just a sad coward who doesn’t know what to fight for. You stand here looking at me like that, with pity, when you should look at me with nothing but irrevocable guilt.”

“You think I don’t feel guilty!?” he shouts rage consuming him as he throws his hands in the air. He spins toward the mirror, rubbing his hands across his face frantically, before turning back to me. “You think I don’t hate that I can’t stop him from hurting you? Why do you think I do as he asks? It’s all to make sure that you remain unharmed.” He pulls me into him, leaning down and claiming my lips in an unpredictable and suffocating kiss.

My fists pound against his chest trying to fight back until I slowly give in to the feel of his tongue tangling around mine. The feeling I’ve grown to love.

It’s euphoric, and just like that, I’m a goner. I can’t fight it any longer. I can’t fight him anymore.

One kiss, one touch and I give in completely, falling into this hypnotizing daze he causes when he’s near me. I move my arms to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to me as he lowers his hands to my bare ass, squeezing and lifting me, as I jump and wrap my legs around his waist. It hurts, my skin still so raw from the scathing water, but I don’t care. I crave the feel of him—I need it more than I need air.

Ace moves us back into the room, my back accidentally slamming against the door as we tumble out. He’s frantic as he quickly tries to lead us toward the bed, the roughness of his jeans rubbing against my core and I’m already so close to coming apart from just his lips on mine. My nails dig into his back, as my pussy grinds against him, all too eagerly.

“Oh fuck,” I moan as his fingers spread my ass cheeks, squeezing them roughly and opening them wide. “Fuck, Ace, please I need more. I need to come apart now!”

I know this is the last thing I should do, but something about the way we fight, when we argue I can’t help getting so fucking turned on. It’s like this yearning need takes over me and I lose all sense of reason. All I want is him, and I don’t care about the consequences.

I’m a masochist, that’s the only explanation. I get off on the emotional pain he causes me. The more he hurts me, the more lies and evil he commits, the more I crave him. Like a drug, I’m addicted to the high and come down hard as I ache for him to give me another hit. When I’m not near him, I feel the withdrawals, aches and sweats ravaging my soul. He’s the worst kind of drug, one that slowly kills me but pleasures me just the same. The most interesting of all, and, like an addict, I come back for more time and time again.

Masochism is a sickness in itself. The pleasure is in the pain. I’m doomed for an eternity of sin. This place didn’t curse me, didn’t taint me with its malevolence. It’s brought out the worst in me that has lived in a hidden slumber. It’s revealing the truth about who I am deep down, about what she made me. I am my mother’s daughter. Her mistakes, her vices, they live within me.

And tonight I finally will give in, without apologizing for what I’ve become.

I will come back stronger, fight harder, and accept this chosen fate.

“Are you sure you want this, baby?” he whispers against my temple, his voice husky and deep as he gasps.

“Stop fucking asking me that every time you’re going to fuck me. Because the answer is and will always be no. I’ll hate you right after, I’ll hate you in the morning, but it doesn’t matter because I hate you right this second too. But I need you. Fuck, I need you. I need to feel you inside me, stretching me, filling me, molding me to your shape. You’re the only thing I feel. So stop fucking talking and fuck me, Wallace Servite. Fuck me like it’s the first time. Fuck me like it’s the last time. But for fucking God’s sake just fuck me!”