Ready Or Not (The Hunter’s Club #2)

Chapter 35

35

IF IT DOESN’T HURT - NOTHING MORE

I race Manson back to his place. The ease of riding without another person sends a thrill through me, and I lean into my bike, feeling one with it and the wind. I drive recklessly, loving the power that hums between my legs.

I beat Manson and Rachel to his house, which makes me smirk. I drive right up Manson’s front yard, bumping along the grass, and park in front of his front door.

Manson arrives shortly after with Rachel, glaring at my bike haphazardly in front of his door. I grin now, moving into his kitchen and flipping on the lights. As much as I love giving him shit, I’m shocked he’s still here. I’ve pushed him to the edge over and over again. Why won’t he just give up?

I ignore the teeniest, tiniest part of me that says I don’t want him to give up. Because that tiny part of me also gets all panty when he’s around. And that is an absolutely dangerous response around Manson.

I shove around in his kitchen. I’m exhausted, and yet, I don’t think I’ll sleep for another three days. As I open his fridge, Manson shoves Rachel past me.

“Where you going?” I glance at him.

He ignores me and just shoves her to the basement door.

I straighten. “Don’t–”

“I heard you the first time.” Manson shoots me a glare and puts on a pitiful voice. “Don’t hurt her.”

I snort. “Remember. I’ll never speak to you again.”

The look he gives me is worth every bit of annoyance keeping her around. I grin, yanking food out of the fridge. Everything is meticulously organized. Hell, Manson has prepared meals stacked up for the next week. I glance in the freezer. Yep, even more.

Jesus. This guy couldn’t live by the seat of his pants if he tried. It’s boring.

I grab a meal and stick it in the microwave. Except for the hum of that, the house is silent. I find my fingers tapping against my arm. Manson being down there with Rachel alone makes this odd feeling run through my body. It’s like there’s vibrating in my legs, and I can’t keep my hands still.

I blink. Oh fuck. Am I feeling something? I haven’t felt something since Pup died. Well, since Manson killed him. Swallowing, I stalk to the top of the stairs and glance down.

Rachel and Manson are at the bottom of the steps, and he’s chaining her there. There’s a blanket, a bucket, and water.

I turn and stalk back to the microwave. I really shouldn’t care. I never care. Rachel is loyal. I know it. She’s scared and impulsive right now, but the way she looks at me when she thinks I’m not paying attention is…everything. Also, Rachel needed this. She needs a push into the big wild world where she can live a little.

That’s it. That’s all I’m doing. Pushing her to live. Plus, I won’t let Manson kill another one of my pets.

That’s it.

I pull my food from the microwave and open the lid. It’s a steamy mess of beef, mashed potatoes, and veggies. I take a sniff. Okay, maybe that’s not beef. Is that…I frown. Is he stealing my venison?

Manson appears at the top of the stairs, and I wipe all traces of anything off my face.

“Did my girlfriend behave for you?”

He snaps a glare at me.

I grin. Egging him on is so easy. I love when he’s mad at me. It sends a thrill straight through me.

“She’s not your girlfriend.”

“Yeah, she definitely is.” I take a bite of the food, and it’s fucking delicious. The meat has some sort of gravy on it, and it’s tender. Fucking hell, Manson’s a good cook. Just one more thing I’m gonna have to add to the ‘don’t-think-about-this-you’ll-get-wet-it’s-Manson-you-idiot’ list.

When I glance up, Manson’s gaze is fixed on mine, and I realize I must have moaned a little. The look in his eyes is feral, and I almost lose my resolve.

I motion at him. “Well, you’re gonna have to feed her. You have any chicken nuggets?”

A scowl starts to form. “I don’t have to do anything.”

I take another bite. Fuck, it’s so good. I wonder if Rachel will eat this. I turn to see what other meals are available, and Manson slams his hand on the fridge and closes it. “Stop messing with me, Riley. Rachel makes you weak. Anything connected to her is now a liability. I found her mom without even trying.”

“I didn’t come back because you threatened her mom.” I shoot him a glare.

“But you’re here.”

“If you must know, she threatened me with a gun.”

“An empty gun,” Manson growls.

I smirk. “My ribs were in danger.” Fuck, I love her fire. She’s sexy on a normal day, but when she’s threatening my life? Makes me want to shove my face into her pussy and make her scream.

“Riley!” Manson slams his hand against the fridge again. I’m reminded again of how big he is as he looms over me. Despite myself, the blood shoots to my pussy.

“What?” I toss my meal down on the counter. “ What , Manson? What is possibly so important you brought us back here for, hmm?” I want to push Manson. I can’t help but push him. It’s the toxic push and pull we’ve had ever since we met. “You jealous? You mad you’re slipping, and I can do whatever I want?”

Manson’s green eyes watch me, and his mouth is tight. Quicker than I can track, his hand snaps out, and he grabs my upper arm with a vice grip. Yanking me to him, Manson doesn’t break eye contact. “Who’s Noel?”

A horrible rush of tingles pushes through me. I never wanted Manson to know about that. I didn’t care about anyone else, but him? He couldn’t know. Could never know how weak I was. Could never look at me with pity.

Blinding rage fills me, and I yank back against his grip. “Let go of me.”

Manson just tightens his hold, pressing me back into the counter. “I want answers, Riley.”

“Fuck off.” I scramble for my fork with my free hand, grab it, and use every ounce of power I have to stab it at him.

Manson dodges back, then cusses, ripping the fork from my hand and dropping his shoulder into my stomach. He picks me up, and I scream, pounding into his back and kicking my legs. That doesn’t keep him from marching me upstairs. We don’t go to the room we fucked Rachel in before. Instead, he carries me as I scream down the hall to a door that’s always shut. He walks us into a softly lit bedroom.

“Let go!” I claw at him as he throws me over his shoulder onto the bed. I scramble up as Manson takes a step back. The room is actually nice, with a king-size bed, cozy furniture, gabled ceilings, and what looks like a pink-themed bathroom. There’s also a wide couch under the windows.

Manson glares down at me. “You’re not leaving this room until I get answers.”

I step up into his face, which is really just his chest because of how tall he is. “You can fuck all the way off.”

Manson’s eyes are filtered. “You’re mine, and you’ll do as I say.”

All the years of his bullying and domineering fill my mind, and I can’t help the real snarl that curls my lip. I look into his eyes, making sure he sees every ounce of hate there. I want to watch it push him over the edge. For that delicious control to snap. “I’ll never be yours, Manson Kennedy.”

The words fill the room. Manson stares back at me, giving me no reaction. The silence kills me. I want him to fuck me. Force me down on the bed and take from me. Replace the horrible grip on my body that’s had me since he mentioned Noel.

Treat me like he always would.

Manson’s eyes flash with something, and then he stamps it back down.

And there’s the pity.

“You’ll always be mine, wife.”

Then, he steps out of the room and closes the door.