The Promise (Wolfe Creek Duet #2)

46

ADRIAN

I look back at the text from Damian—it’s a list of things I need to learn how to use before the shop opens. Email. Social Media. Accounting App. There’s more, but it’s overwhelming. I haven’t had to use technology much in the last ten years and it’s completely changed since I was a kid.

Looking over, I eye the tablet he’s bought me. It’s been sitting on the dresser, still in the plastic, for the last two weeks. He says it’s the standard for drawing up designs. “It’s what every tattoo artist uses.” I could give two shits what every tattoo artist uses. I prefer drawing by hand. That’s why I haven’t opened it yet. Well, that and the fact that learning how to use another device sends me into a panic.

Turning my attention back to my phone, I pull up my playlist and switch to a different song. This is the only useful part about having this thing. Closing my eyes, I let the beat of the music drown everything else out as I hit my vape.

I can feel myself dozing off when I distantly hear a knock at my door. I ignore it. I’m not in the mood to talk. The knocking persists. Yanking the headphones out, I stomp toward the sound.

“Wha…” My question trails off as I pull open the door and come face to face with Thea.

The last time she came to my room, I fucked her against the wall. That was on Thanksgiving. We’ve hardly spoken since. That seems to be our thing. Fuck, then ignore each other. It’s fine by me. My gaze drops from those narrowed dark blue eyes to her chest and not for the typical reason I’d look. Clutched in her arms is something familiar. My sketchbook.

I snatch it from her. “Hey!” she snaps, but doesn’t resist me taking what’s mine. “You left it on the dining room table—I was just returning it to you.”

“I didn’t need you to return it. Leave my shit alone, Havoc.” I take another pull from my vape, not caring that I blow the smoke in her face. At least she can’t complain that it smells bad.

She scowls harder. “Thank you would have done just fine.” I stare her down. She’s not getting any gratitude from me. Finally, she throws her hands up. “God! To think I was going to compliment your work.”

My mind reels as I make sense of her words. Before she can walk away, my hand flies out, grasping her arm. “You looked through this?” Fuck, she better say no. I’m going to make her pay if she did. I’m private with my work, but there’s one drawing in particular I don’t want her or anyone else to see.

She pulls her arm away. “Yeah? What’s the big deal?”

Anxiety floods me. Did she see it? Is she playing dumb? “You. Had. No. Right.” The words push through my clenched jaw.

Thea rolls her eyes. “You’re going to be a tattoo artist. People are going to see your work, Sparky.” Her casual tone only makes me fume more.

“Keep your fucking hands off my shit. Do you understand?”

Her chin tips up and she eyes me challengingly. “Or what?”

That’s it. Her attitude sends me over the edge. Before I can stop myself, I’m grabbing her by the hair and pulling her into my room. “You’re so goddamn infuriating. You know that?”

She smiles despite the pain I know she’s feeling from my tight grip. “You fucking love it. You’re so hard for me right now, aren’t you?”

Thea’s hand flies out, landing on my throbbing cock. I can’t deny it. She’s right. I can’t decide if I want to smack her or fuck her or smack her while I fuck her. I know what she wants. She wants me to screw her like I did last time. But if we’re doing this today, it’s my turn. I’m getting what I want.

I let go of her hair and watch the disappointment spread over her face. “What? You’ve had enough of me, Adrian? Can’t keep up?”

Her egging me on is only going to make this better.

“You want to get fucked?” I ask her. We both know the answer. This is just me taunting her. If she didn’t, she would’ve already walked out. “Today, it’s on my terms. If you don’t like that, you can leave and I’ll never touch you again.” The ultimatum is dicey. I want to keep fucking her, even if it’s only on her terms, yet I know that I have some power here. She wants me just as much, so she might do as I ask.

“What are your terms?” Her curiosity is piqued. Now I just need to ease her in.

I walk to my dresser and pull open a drawer. From inside, I grab four cuffs, holding them up for her to see. She gives me a look like I’m an amateur. “These aren’t for you.”

Thea straightens and her mouth parts. “You want me to restrain you?” I’m nervous she’ll say no, although I can’t let her see that. I casually nod.

“What? Think you can’t handle it, Havoc?” I lower the cuffs back into the drawer.

“Wait! I can do it. I can tie you down.” The words alone might hold confidence, yet the uncertainty in her voice gives her away.

I drop the cuffs into the drawer, eyeing them momentarily. “You know, I’m not sure if you can.” My eyes flick to hers as I wait.

Thea walks with purpose toward me. She doesn’t say a thing. She reaches in and grabs the cuffs. “Where?”

A smirk tugs at my mouth. Walking to the bed, I show her the two metal anchors on the footboard, then the two on the headboard. “You know, once I’m restrained, you can do anything you want to me. I won’t be able to stop you.”

“That’s not true,” she refutes. My brows raise. “You can use your safe word,” Thea says condescendingly, like everyone should know that. And while I do, I don’t have one. This isn’t some kind of BDSM kink for me. It’s… something else.

Leaning in close, I whisper in her ear. “I don’t use safe words.” She pulls away, her face twisted in shock.

“But Damian says—”

“I don’t give a damn what D says. I don’t use safe words. Do whatever you want to me. I’m giving you permission and I promise there’s nothing you can do that I haven’t already experienced or can’t take. Try your best.”

I watch as she swallows nervously. This isn’t what she’s used to. Damian built this pretty little safety net for Thea, where nothing bad ever happens as long as she uses her words. I’m not my brother and today she’s going to see that.

I’m staring at the ceiling as Thea tightens the last restraint on my wrist. I tug on the other wrist, then the ones around my ankles—everything’s secure. Knowing that sends a rush of panic through me. I take a deep breath, pushing it away. This isn’t the same , I tell myself.

The room is cold now that I’m undressed. Goosebumps cover my arms. Those are momentary sensations that fade from my mind as I watch Thea crawl off the bed. She walks toward the door. “Where are you going?”

She glances over her shoulder and smirks. Fuck. Did she agree to this just to tie me up and leave me here to be found by my brothers? Fear turns my veins to ice. I can’t yell after her—someone might hear me. She disappears from view and I start yanking on the restraints. If I pull hard enough, I might be able to rip the anchors from the bed. I’m about to try it when Thea reappears.

In her hand, I see something I don’t expect. She closes and locks the door behind her. On her face sits a wicked grin. I know what I told her, but maybe I underestimated her.

Thea saunters toward me. With each step, she smacks the knotted tails of the flogger against her palm. The sound makes my breath catch. Despite regretting this a little, my cock is standing at attention and aching for her.

When she gets to the end of the bed, she puts the tool down between my spread legs. Slowly, she undresses. First, she pulls her shirt over her head, her full tits bouncing with every movement. Then she pulls off her pants, leaning forward to give me the perfect view of her cleavage. Fuck. All I want is to pin her against that wall again and screw her brains out.

I’m expecting her to take off her bra and panties next, but she doesn’t. It’s on purpose. She knows that’s what I want. Momentarily, the little crown on her hip catches my attention. Princess. Now I get it.

She climbs onto the bed, her eyes travelling over me. It makes me feel too exposed, but this is what I asked for. Her gaze stops at my dick. Thea wets her lips. I know what she wants to do—I’m not going to let her.

“Don’t,” I command. It’s entirely contradictory to my current position of power, so I justify the order. “I don’t want you to chip your teeth. The piercing can do that.” Her head tilts and I wonder if she thinks I care about her or something. “I don’t want to catch shit from Damian about a dental bill,” I add. It’s flimsy at best.

Thea rolls her eyes, then picks up the flogger. “This is what you want, Sparky? You want me to torture you? You want no way to escape?” She stands on the mattress, her feet planted and straddling one of my legs. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

She doesn’t let me answer. The flogger comes down quick across the sensitive skin of my thigh. My body tries to lurch forward in response. I clench my jaw to keep the sounds that want to come out inside. Thea waits until I relax enough to lie back down before bringing the leather down hard across my other thigh. This time, a whimper escapes.

A surprising breath slips from Thea’s lips. I meet her eyes and find them full of desire. She also looks slightly perplexed, like she didn’t expect to enjoy this. She liked the noise I made. I don’t know why, but I want to give her more of those sounds. I want to fuel that desire. It’s a dangerous thought.

I can see her working through the same feelings—her face is betraying her. She’s trying hard to keep those desires locked up, just like me. A sick part of me wants to break her. I’m not even sure what that means. Do I want her to like me? Love me? Do I want to make her fall for me just for the challenge of it? I tell myself yes. I’m that demented and fucked up. However, there’s some small nagging thing deep inside of me that says otherwise. The thought floats up before I can smother it. Do I want her to love me so that I can love her?

I turn away from her gaze, ashamed that I gave space for such a silly idea. I don’t want to love Thea. I fucking hate her. She’s the reason my family’s been torn apart. She’s havoc, destruction, death. She’s only good for a quick bang. Yet, here I am, giving the woman I hate control of me in such a vulnerable state. Thankfully, she doesn’t know that. She just thinks this is some fantasy of mine.

I nearly laugh, knowing how far from the truth that is.

Finally, I turn my eyes back to her. She must have been staring the entire time, because the look on her face tells me that she’s trying to figure me out. I force blankness. I won’t make it that easy for her.

“Is that all you’ve got?” I goad her into focusing on my body instead of my face.

It works. She raises a brow and purses her lips. “That was nothing,” she replies.

She’s right. Thea strikes me over and over again, covering my flesh with red welts. Each hit is harder than the last as she pushes my limits. I’m a willing participant this time, so it won’t be that easy. Although, there are moments when I’m close, moments when I feel like I might burst into tears and scream for her to stop. But two things stop me. The first is seeing Thea’s power and self-assurance grow with each lashing. I don’t know why I care, yet I do. I love seeing her find comfort in this brutality. The other thing is the memories.

They don’t come with each hit. They’re unreliable. So I hang on to see what vision will assault me next. The first was the memory of my hands tied behind my back. My restraints back then were nothing like these fabric lined ones. They came in different forms—zip ties, rope, hell, once it was even fishing line because that’s all that was lying around.

The next memory is a slap across the face. My mouth always got me into trouble back then. And I was too prideful to shut the hell up. It’s so vivid that I swear my cheek is stinging and I can feel the warmth of the hand that’s hit me.

Thea lands another blow. This one across my ribs. My body arches up and I let out a noise so guttural that it sounds like a wild animal. For a moment, I don’t believe it came from me. That makes her hesitate. I can tell she’s wondering if she’s going too far.

“Don’t be a pussy,” I growl at her. Her jaw clenches and her eyes harden. She hits me across my hip this time. I fight to keep my noises inside.

Another memory hits me. This one’s years after the first. I’m no longer restrained. I’m in a dark room, lying in a bed. I’m not alone. I push closer to the body next to me, finding comfort in the closeness. Nausea roils in my stomach. I was so desperate for any amount of attention that I didn’t care where I got it from.

Nothing’s changed because I’m doing that right now. Getting my fix from the woman I hate.

Tears prick at my eyes. Thea’s raised hand falters. Shit. Her mouth parts. “Don’t you fucking do it,” I warn. This time, my words don’t distract her from the emotions playing out on my face. “Will you just fuck me already? I’m getting tired of this.” I look away in an effort to seem bored. “Your cunt is the only thing you’re good for, anyway.” I hurl the insult at her, twisted but familiar words—echoes of what I heard countless times growing up.

That works. Thea tosses the flogger to the floor and pulls down her panties. Straddling me, she sinks down onto my cock. She’s dripping—this did something for her. She faces my feet, giving me the perfect view of her ass. I’m not complaining, but I think she’s punishing me. Or maybe she can’t bear to look at me, knowing how much this turned her on. Maybe she can’t look at the damage she’s inflicted because that might make her just as much of a monster as me.

A realization hits me. Reliving the pain of my past on my terms with who I want is almost healing in a way. Now that she’s no longer inflicting pain, I almost feel lighter. That’s fucking crazy.

Then, I wonder if it’s the same for her. Thea, drugging herself, comes to mind. That’s the only thing that jumps out at me, but what if the other times were her way of dealing with her own shit? What the fuck has she been through?

The question fades away as soon as she starts moving. I’m lost to the pleasure of her tight pussy. I’m still a man, after all.

Watching her bounce on my dick makes it hard to last long—I’m certainly not going to outlast her. Her sharp nails pierce the thin skin of my ankles, making me buck up into her. I feel her body shudder and her pussy clamp down on me. Guess I was wrong.

She comes silently, purposefully withholding her moans. But I made her come faster than I ever have and that tells me all I need to know.

The satisfaction is fleeting. My body explodes and a wave of euphoria spreads over me. The buildup of tension from the pain leaves in a rush. Suddenly, I’m completely exhausted. My body falls limp as my eyes close.

In the distance, I hear Thea, but I can’t make out what she’s saying. I only mumble, “Tired.” I think I feel her undo the leg restraints. Sleep drags me under before I can be sure.

THEA

Adrian’s fast asleep, lightly snoring. I undo the last cuff on his wrist, eyeing the wolf on his ring finger. I sigh. As much as I’ve resisted accepting it, he’s part of this pact. He’s their brother, whether I like it or not.

I’m so drained from everything. I’m so tired of all these secrets that I’m keeping, including him. The hate and the rage are draining me. No, I can’t think like that. I need those emotions fueling me. The exhaustion from fucking Adrian is messing with my head.

I need a moment to recoup. It’s a bad idea, but I can’t help myself.

Lying down next to him, I stare up at the ceiling while I focus on breathing and sorting my thoughts.

I’ve never done anything like that before. Hurting someone to that extent for pleasure should’ve been a turnoff. I like it done to me, however, inflicting that one someone else hasn’t ever crossed my mind. Shame floods me for liking it. I don’t know why. It was consensual.

Maybe it was that this wasn’t just for pleasure. Adrian and I both know that. There was genuine emotion in his eyes. He tried not to show me, but I recognized it. Curiosity gnaws at me and I don’t like it. I don’t want to know more about him. I don’t want to know about his past or what makes him act the way he does. I don’t care.

I don’t care about Adrian. I hate him.

Looking over at him, I watch as his chest rises gently, then falls. His inky hair is stuck to his damp forehead. Harsh red welts cover his body. The need to do something for him is strong. Damian takes care of me after, but it’s discussed prior. Adrian and I didn’t talk about what our needs might be after. This was the wrong way to do it, that much I know.

My hand reaches out and hovers over his chest. I pull it back. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.

My indecision is interrupted when Adrian starts mumbling. It’s hard to make out, but I’m too nosy not to try to decipher his words.

“Not… Not…” His voice trails off.

I lean in closer. My breath tickles his cheek and he stirs. Fuck. It’s momentary, then he settles back down. The seconds tick by and I wonder if I ruined it.

“Not… my… fault,” he mutters. The words rattle around in my head. I try to connect meaning to them. “Not my fault.” His words are softer this time, almost as if he’s accepting them.

I need to get out of here and not just because I don’t want someone to find us. I roll off the bed, grab my clothes, and get dressed. I’m walking toward the door when an urge makes me stop.

Turning, I make my way back to Adrian. I pull the corner of the comforter over his body, covering him so he doesn’t get cold. I watch as he seems to recognize the warmth it brings. He curls into a fetal position, nuzzling his cheek into his pillow.

I have the fleeting thought that he actually looks kind of sweet like this. Closing my eyes, I push it from my mind. Then another urge takes over.

Walking to his dresser, I look down at the sketchbook he snatched from me. What was the big deal? The panic in his eyes when I told him I looked at it was strange.

I only flipped through the first couple of pages. But now I’m curious. Is there something in here he doesn’t want me to see? I shouldn’t do it, but I can’t help myself.

My fingers carefully lift the front cover. I go through every single page. The artwork is beautiful, but nothing jumps out at me. There are various animals, skulls, a mermaid, a faceless woman, flowers, landscapes. Is he just that self-conscious?

I sigh, feeling like I understand him even less than before as I leave his room. While I don’t exactly feel guilty for snooping, I do feel something. I shouldn’t have wanted to look. I shouldn’t have noticed his panic. I shouldn’t have given any of it a second thought.

So why did I? This has to stop.