Chapter
35

Six months later.

The darkness wrapped around me, choking me, and I resisted. It poured down my throat and I gagged, bile burning its way up my esophagus, and my head swam. I fought against my blanket, but it was futile. My fists only got tangled and stuck at my sides, my legs met the softness of the mattress, and air, but I couldn’t get away.

Help! Caesar!

I called for my knight in black armor, but he wouldn’t hear me. He couldn’t find me, and I knew it. My heart pounded and my mouth went dry, but I made no sound. Who was here? I opened my eyes wide, trying to pierce the darkness. Inky blackness surrounded me. And then I tumbled, falling from my bed and slamming into the floor. The impact took the wind out of me and I sucked air, but it went nowhere.

But everything cleared and sunrays streaked over me. I blinked against the sudden change and kicked the too-hot covers off my sweating body. I lay on the floor and sucked in oxygen, trying to get my frantic heartrate under control.

“Just a dream, Ash. Just a dream.”

But one of many I’d been having lately. Each night, I dreamt of darkness and fear and of being trapped. I couldn’t move or get away, and there was no Caesar to save me. Six months without him, and I still didn’t know how to operate in the real world. I’d tried grocery shopping, and I felt like people stared at me, like the world saw the dark shit inside of me and found me unworthy. I lifted my head and grimaced at them, taunted them for daring to look my way.

Not fighting is for pussies, and pussies get dead.

His words rang in my ears, and I faced the world head on, but when I got back home the tears came. I didn’t like living in the real world. I hated not having direction, the security in a firm hand controlling my movements, and the knowledge I’d always be protected. In the time I’d been without Caesar, I realized he’d given me what I wanted before I even knew what it was. He gave me protection, pain, pleasure, and the freedom to be beneath his wing.

God, I’d tried to get him out of my system. I watched every movie in my home, ordered more, and read all the books. I traveled to the mall and bought clothes, and I still dressed in a way to impress him. I thought “what would Caesar think?” every time I made a purchase.

Forcing myself up, I stood on shaky feet.

“It’s always you,” I whispered.

Always. He’d stamped me, deep inside, and I couldn’t get him out. But the more I thought of it, the more I didn’t want him gone. I thought I’d wanted to escape him and live my own life. But I’d been wrong. The time away from him only showed me I’d needed to sort out my own feelings.

I’d never been given a choice, that was the difference. I’d never been able to choose who I slept with, who touched me, who gave me what I needed. Jason took me and didn’t care how horrible I felt. Matt was out of desperation, the opposite of what I’d ever wanted. Caesar had stolen me from it all, but I hadn’t been ready. Not then. And Lorcan, he’d shown me what the sort of love I needed could be without the consent, without the dark, twisted need to submit. He’d broken me, and I’d shattered.

The time I’d been alone showed me that.

I reached for my phone and pulled out the card I’d stashed away so long ago. With trembling hands, I dialed.

“Ash?” Franco answered.

“I want to come home,” I said, my voice breaking.

I heard rustling on the other line. “How soon?”

I closed my eyes, thankful he didn’t ask me why, or if I was sure. “Now.”

“We’re going to do this right. Pack a bag of stuff for a week or so. I left you luggage in the back of our closet. I’ll have the rest packed for you. Can you be ready in two hours?”

“I’ll be ready. Thank you, Franco.”

“He’s lost without you, too.”

I didn’t get to respond before the call cut off. For the first time in a while, I smiled, a fucking wild, crazy smile. Even as I pulled out a bright-red bodycon dress that cupped just under my ass, and nude heels, I smiled. Home, that’s what Caesar was. A fucked-up, broken mess, our pieces fit together. I dashed into my bathroom and showered. Taking my time, I washed every nook and cranny, shaving all the hair below my neck, and lotioned my skin until it was supple and smooth. Next, I sat at my vanity, wrapped in a towel, to apply my makeup. I went for dark, smoky eyes and blood-red lips. The rest of my face I left colorless. Once that was done, I took the towel from my head and let my hair dry where it landed. I had every intention of Caesar messing up my hair when I saw him, so it was pointless to style it at all. By the time I was dressed, packed, and waiting in the living room, an hour and a half had passed.

A knock at my door startled me.

“It’s me, Ash.”

I clipped to the door, bag in hand, and opened it to find Franco.

“Does he know I’m coming?”

“Thought you’d want to surprise him.”

It was then that I saw a few men behind Franco, and they tossed me two-fingered salutes. “The moving crew,” Franco said.

“Thank you,” I whispered to them.

A large, red-haired guy shrugged and tossed me a lopsided grin. “Maybe he’ll stop nursing the bottle now. Hell, he’s been shit to deal with.”

“Can it, Collin. That’ll get fixed soon enough,” Franco told him.

“Collin,” I said, stepping forward on slow feet.

He frowned at me, a confused look in his eyes as I came toward him. He didn’t know Caesar had told me what he’d done, the part he’d played in paying Sean back for me.

I lifted my hands to his cheeks and held him. “Thank you,” I whispered.

His eyes cleared and he nodded. “He deserved to know what it felt like.”

I saw the truth in his eyes, why Collin said those words. He knew what it felt like. We stood for a moment, trapped in memories, feeling each other’s pain, and sharing empathy. After a moment, I released him and let Franco lead me away. But I had a feeling I knew who I wanted to guard me when Caesar wasn’t around.

“Where the fuck is Franco? He should have been here a damn hour ago. When I see the fucker, I’m going to pound his face in,” Caesar raged on the other side of the door.

I pressed my hand to the heavy frame, and his heat pulsed through the door. That was all that separated me from home, from my Caesar.

I looked over my shoulder at Franco. “I’ll open the door, since I’m linked with Kim now. Get out of here.”

Franco didn’t wait to see if I’d change my mind. He burned a trail to the elevator, and I took a deep breath as the doors slid closed, leaving me in the hallway alone.

Head high, Ash. You don’t let them see you’re afraid. Never. Fight. Because not fighting is for pussies.

I pressed my hand against the reader on the side of the door and waited to hear the click that I’d been registered. Then I pushed the door open.

“Franco, you son of a—”

“Caesar.”

He froze as I took him in. He’d worn red today, just like me, and it lifted my soul. His familiar black jeans and Chuck Taylors framed his lower half, and he had a red graphic t-shirt on with white lettering saying SUPREME on the front. His hair was wild, the strands hanging around his eyes instead of the smoothed-back look I’d grown accustomed to, and his beard was a bit longer. And on the sides of his neck I could see faint black curled lines, a new tattoo I hadn’t seen before.

“You’ve got new ink.”

He nodded his head, but he didn’t move. Neither of us did.

“Turn around and let me see,” I ordered.

He tossed me a grin, and my heart stuttered.

Then he turned around, and my heart stopped altogether.

Precious Ashlyn. He’d tattooed my name on his flesh, made me as much a part of him as he was of me.

I glided across the room, dropping my bag as I went. I needed to touch it, to know it was real. His skin was hot silk under my fingertips, but the ink was new. I could feel the slightly raised skin where then needle had pressed deep during the process. I traced my fingers over his shoulders and bit into his skin with my nails. This was real, this moment. It washed away the pain of the last six months, made that time I’d straightened my head mean something.

“Don’t send me away again,” I whispered.

“I only had the strength to do it once. You think I’m going to do some sappy shit like that again?”

He spun around, and my mouth went dry when I looked in his eyes. They raged and collided, emotions flickering too rapidly for me to see, but I felt them all. And then his fingers speared into my hair and he clenched his fist. I gasped at the sting, warmth flooding me. This was what I wanted, what I needed.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“Because I need you.”

“I tried, goddammit. I fucking let you go. Why are you fucking here?”

“Make me hurt again, Caesar.”

He tossed me away from him and I fell to the floor. I caught myself on the hardwood, my palms stinging. Even that felt good.

“You’ve lost your mind. The point was to get away from this, Ash. To be your own fucking person.”

He didn’t believe me. I could see it in the wildness of his eyes. For him, there was only captive and captor. He didn’t see how I could want this, how I’d want his possession more than my next breath. I needed to show him. Rolling to my ass on the floor, I gapped my legs open for him. I’d worn no underwear on purpose. His nostrils flared as his gaze traveled down my body. Slowly, I pressed my palms down my front and gripped the hem of my dress. After I lay back on the floor, I lifted my hips enough to pull the dress past my ass and then pulled it up and off.

“Hurt me, Caesar.”

“Ash,” he warned.

I slapped the ground with my hands. “Six fucking months! I waited six months for you to pull your head out of your ass and get me. Six months. I waited for you to drag me home by my hair, fuck me and bruise me. I waited for you to rake your nails over my flesh, make me bleed, and force me to tell you my secret.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? What secret?”

“Fuck me,” I demanded.

It was powerful, this moment between us, when I knew he held back, tried to give me a choice. That made this different. I could walk away, and he’d let me. Despite his threats, despite all he’d done, he’d fucking let me. I knew it to the soles of my feet.

“What. Secret. Ashlyn?”

“You’re a fucking pussy, Caesar. A scared little pussy, and you know what happens to pussies? They get fucked.”

He launched at me, and I laughed like a maniac. His hands were rough on my body as he pulled me toward him. “You’re going to tell me, Ashy Lashy.”

“I’m not going to tell some pussy bitch shit,” I returned.

He chuckled, his face a mask of elation and threat. “Oh, pretty girl, what I’m going to do to you.”

“You promise?” I taunted.

“Fuck promises, they can be broken. It’s my fucking word.”