Destroyed
Page 43
Her ass wiggled, trying to dislodge me. Her br**sts rose and fell against my chest as I settled deeper into the apex of her legs.
“But it didn’t work. I’d hoped to fix you. I’m not finished.” Her gaze searched mine even as her legs spread, giving me room to sink between them.
My eyes slammed shut as I pressed into her heat. Deeper and deeper. I shivered as her pu**y took my full length. “It worked enough.” Opening my eyes, I smiled. “You owe me a reward for behaving.”
She snorted. “Behaving by not killing me you mean.”
“Exactly.” I dropped my head to kiss her. Her mouth opened; her tongue rose to meet mine, and we began to move. Digging my elbows into the mattress on either side of her face, I rocked hard and possessive, claiming her slowly, deliberately.
Her hands landed on my ass. Instantly the headache swarmed with pressure almost buckling my control. My body froze while I focused on how delicate, how breakable, how much I did not want to kill her. “Don’t,” I whispered. “Stop touching me.”
Immediately, her hands dropped.
Rearing back, staring deep into her eyes, I said, “I give you my word I won’t hurt you, but I really need to f**k you, Hazel. Give me your hands.” I thrust upward.
She raised her hands above her head allowing me to capture her wrists with my fingers. The moment she was secured, I dropped one barrier inside my mind. Harnessing a small taste of violence, I surged into her.
She cried out with the brutal thrust, panting as I drove into her. My heart drummed with angry conditioning, fighting with sexual need.
Her legs came up to imprison my hips, pulling me deeper inside.
I growled as a fresh burst of urges filtered through my blood, almost stealing me from reality. But I held on. I focused. I concentrated. I never reverted to Ghost.
“God you feel so good. So tight. So perfect.” I rocked harder, filling her with everything I had. She was mine, and I wanted to mark her to prove it.
Releasing her wrists, I dropped my hands, forcing one finger into her mouth. “Suck it,” I ordered.
Her eyes flared and lips latched around me, dragging me into her mouth. The matching wetness and heat drove me wild. I pumped harder and harder.
“Do you feel me?” I growled, loving the sparking orgasm building in my balls.
She nodded, sucking my finger, biting with sharp, little teeth. Her legs spasmed around my hips. “You taste of metal and smoke. You feel f**king amazing, Fox.”
I groaned. I couldn’t hold off any more.
The sparking release exploded in my belly and I came, filling her with everything left inside me.
She tensed beneath me, throwing her head back as her internal muscles rippled, wave after wave, squeezing my length with delectable strength.
Her body went from rigid to floppy and a small smile twitched her lips.
Cursing the headache and the still insistent conditioning, I kissed Zel on the tip of her nose. “How can I get you to remember?”
She frowned, a sated glow flushing her cheeks. “Remember what?”
Lowering my head, I bit her neck. “To call me Roan.”
Chapter 17
Happiness.
Such a farce.
I’d been happy—blindingly happy only twice in my life.
The first was when I held Clara just after she was born. She unlocked emotions and joy I never knew existed.
The second was when I landed a job at a prestigious company thanks to a forged resume. I might have earned the job with lies, but I earned a bonus in the first month thanks to my work ethic.
Both showed my life improving, both hinted at pleasures to come.
Then I met Fox and I dared to hope I’d have a third moment of happiness.
But just like everything, it was the brief interlude before the main event.
The eye of the storm.
The beginning of the end.
I’m pregnant.
Not a whoopsy daisy I was stupid and forgot to use contraception. Not a I was sick and didn’t use other precautions while on the pill. Not a I forgot to update my shot or my coil didn’t work or the condom broke or I forgot to take the morning after pill.
Nothing like that.
No, life found a way to create something from nothing, cementing a marvel inside a womb that’d been confirmed as sterile forever.
I didn’t believe in miracles, but I did believe in second chances.
And this was Fox’s.
Roan’s.
For three days, I nursed the news. I sat awake at night, running my hands through Clara’s thick hair, imagining a future where she’d survive and grow up with a baby sister or brother. I painted a fairy-tale where Fox could be touched and loved, and we created a wonderful family from a very dysfunctional beginning.
I wanted to tell him. I went through every scenario of how to announce the news.
Every time he looked at Clara with smitten eyes the words I’m having your child danced on my tongue, waiting to be said.
But I cradled the news with utmost secrecy.
You’re avoiding it because you don’t know how you feel.
My hand fell on my flat stomach. I would never terminate a pregnancy, but I couldn’t wrap my head around holding another child. Loving another child.
It felt traitorous to Clara. I felt unfit and unworthy, and it tore me up inside. I couldn’t love another cherub-cheeked baby—it was a betrayal to her.
Wasn’t it?
I threw up twice—not from morning sickness—but from guilt. Guilt for loving another child as much as I loved Clara. Guilt for replacing her.
That was my true issue.
My firstborn will be dead, but I’ll have another. I wouldn’t have the time to mourn, or the luxury to forget about life. I wouldn’t have the privilege of ruining my own world once Clara left me.
I would have to go on surviving, smiling, living, all for a baby I’d never thought I’d have.
And it made me f**king angry.
Angry to recognise how weak I was—knowing I would love this baby with everything I was, which wasn’t f**king fair to Clara. She owned my heart, body, and soul, and she would be dead.
I was dizzy, tired, and nauseous trying to come to terms with gaining a life just before I lost one.
Ironically, I kept my secret because of my own regret, but Clara was the one who made sure I’d never tell him.
It was Tuesday, and the club was quiet.
After a trip to the bathroom to yet again scream at myself to consolidate my stressed emotions, I entered the office where we were finishing some paperwork.
Fox sat at his desk, dressed in black, surrounded by black; he looked like the son of a scarred kind-hearted shadow.
Clara lay on her stomach, little legs flying, hands cupping her chin as she watched Nemo on the large flatscreen.
Fox looked up; a gentle smile graced his lips. “I’m done here. I was thinking we could all go out—maybe grab takeaway and watch the sunset?” He laughed. “Listen to me—never thought I’d say such a domesticated thing.”
Clara looked over her shoulder, grinning. “I want fish and chips. But I don’t want to eat Nemo, so make sure the fisherman doesn’t kill him.”
Fox shook his head, eyes glowing with love.
He’ll make an amazing father.
I flinched, taking in the domestic bliss in front of me. Despite his touching issue, Fox was perfect. Strong enough to protect, wealthy enough to provide, fierce enough to love with everything bared.
His snowy eyes met mine, and my stomach tripped over itself. The message he sent was lust. He wanted me. For the past three nights, I’d sneaked into his room once Clara was asleep, and I let him tie my hands before giving me all of himself. He f**ked me, but made love to me. He gave me sweet and gentle wrapped up in brutal violence.
My heart fluttered, responding to his unspoken request. I wanted him, too. Not just now, but for always.
I want this. All of it.
Forever.
My heart switched from fluttering weightlessly to plummeting like a stone. My eyes fell on Clara. I hated my sad thoughts. I despised the weakness and perpetual grief.
Nothing lasted forever. I just had to embrace every moment I could and prepare myself for pain at the end. I would miss her like I would miss my own soul, but I would live on.
I would be the universe for another child who needed me.
The pregnancy had thrown my world off balance, and I hadn’t found my feet in this new gravity.
Fox deserved to know about the new life inside me—perhaps it would be enough for him to keep his sanity when Clara was gone.
You know that’s not true. Not possibly true.
Clara would rip a chunk of our hearts out, and we’d never be the same. My shining star would burn out and leave us in the dark.
Roan stood, pushing his chair back. The energy in the room increased as he moved toward me. My skin sparked in anticipation of his touch; my body warmed, preparing for his possession.
And then it shattered.
Clara coughed. Nothing huge, nothing scary or major. I thought nothing of it.
But the silence afterward sent icicles stabbing into my flesh. My eyes flew to her, almost in slow motion.
More icicles stabbed my limbs, drawing forth agony and terror.
Clara’s legs went from kicking in the air to sprawled, her little elbows gave way, and her head thunked against the carpet.
“No!” Shit.
Shoving past Roan, I threw myself onto the carpet and gathered her rigid form into my arms. Her little body was a plank of rigid wood. Her eyes rolled back, white and vacant. Her lips opened and closed fruitlessly trying to drag oxygen into her body.
“What the f**k?” Fox slammed to the floor beside me. His large presence crowded me, making me claustrophobic.
“Get back. She can’t breathe!” I hoisted her torso upright, willing her to suck in a breath. “Come on, sweetheart. Come on. You can do it. Please. Not yet. Come on.” Her lungs wheezed and clattered as a smidgen of air got through.
“Give her to me,” Fox demanded, shoving me aside to spread Clara onto her back. I toppled sideways, tears distorting my vision. “Call 111.” His blazing blizzard eyes met mine. “Go!”
Scrambling to my feet, I ran back to the room I shared with my rapidly fading daughter and upended the bag Clue had packed for us. Clothes, toiletries, and cuddly toys went flying. “Where is it? Where the f**k is it?”
I shoved aside items frantically until my fingers latched around the asthma inhaler. Charging upright, I raced back to the office.
Fox had one hand pinching her nose while he breathed a lungful of air into Clara’s mouth. Her chest rose, then fell as he leaned back and pressed the heel of his hand against her bony chest.
“That won’t work. She needs this. She needs the medicine.” I shoved his shoulder, causing him to shoot a hand out to stay upright. His back tensed as he fought whatever urges he dealt with.
Positioning my hand behind her neck, I looked into Clara’s rolling, panicked eyes. “Suck in, okay? You know how to do this.” A flicker of life returned to her gaze, and I pushed the inhaler past her blue-tinged lips.
Fox looked like a black-hole beside me, trembling with rage and dread.
“What’s happening to her?” he growled.
Ignoring him, I pressed the trigger, administering a cloud of medicine into Clara’s mouth. She wheezed, gulping what she could.
But it wasn’t enough.
Hot scalding fear replaced my blood as her little hand clawed at her throat. Her lips turned from blue to indigo.
“Lay her down,” Fox snapped.
“She can’t breathe like that!”
“Just do it!” Fox yanked Clara from me and placed her on her back again. Planting his massive scarred hand over her chest, he pushed down hard. Glaring, he ordered, “Do it again.”
With shaking hands, I placed the inhaler in Clara’s lips and stabbed the plunger. Fox slowly removed the pressure from Clara’s chest, effectively dragging the medicine into her lungs by manual force.
A second ticked past, then another.
“One day, when I grow up, I want to be a doctor, so I can stop people coughing like me.”
The memory came and went so fast, I barely acknowledged it. But my heart died with terror—I couldn’t let her go. No!
I couldn’t stand it. I had to give her another dose. I had to save her.
Then the silence was broken by her spluttering and sucking in greedy lungfuls of oxygen. She lurched off the carpet like a drowning survivor, drinking in air as fast as she could.
I slumped in massive relief, then sucked back tears as a bout of coughing hit, reminding me this time she’d stayed alive. But the next or the next…
Don’t think about it.
All I cared about was that she was alive and breathing again. I needed to stay strong and not focus on the unchangeable future.
Awareness filled Clara’s eyes and tears welled. She reached for me, and I dragged her into my lap. “I don’t like it, mummy. When will it stop?”
My stomach clenched. I sat rocking, peppering her forehead with kisses. “You’re okay. It’s alright. Breathe.”
Clara’s breathing slowly changed from rattling to smooth, and she rested her heavy head on my shoulder. Her body heat comforted me—reminding me I hadn’t lost her yet.
I didn’t know how much time passed as I drowned in memories of her. The joy on her face when I painted our bedroom with purple horses, the way her face screwed up when she sneakily stole a sip wine. Everything about her had been three dimensional animation. And it killed me to watch her fade to crackling black and white.
A lone tear slid down my face as I rocked and stared into the past. I lost track of where I was. I lost track of Fox. All I focused on was my slumbering daughter, balled tight and fragile in my arms.
My arms couldn’t hold her hard enough. I wished all my health and strength could filter into her through osmosis. I cursed God that I couldn’t trade my life for hers. The lump of terror that’d replaced my heart hung heavy and unbeating in my chest.
“But it didn’t work. I’d hoped to fix you. I’m not finished.” Her gaze searched mine even as her legs spread, giving me room to sink between them.
My eyes slammed shut as I pressed into her heat. Deeper and deeper. I shivered as her pu**y took my full length. “It worked enough.” Opening my eyes, I smiled. “You owe me a reward for behaving.”
She snorted. “Behaving by not killing me you mean.”
“Exactly.” I dropped my head to kiss her. Her mouth opened; her tongue rose to meet mine, and we began to move. Digging my elbows into the mattress on either side of her face, I rocked hard and possessive, claiming her slowly, deliberately.
Her hands landed on my ass. Instantly the headache swarmed with pressure almost buckling my control. My body froze while I focused on how delicate, how breakable, how much I did not want to kill her. “Don’t,” I whispered. “Stop touching me.”
Immediately, her hands dropped.
Rearing back, staring deep into her eyes, I said, “I give you my word I won’t hurt you, but I really need to f**k you, Hazel. Give me your hands.” I thrust upward.
She raised her hands above her head allowing me to capture her wrists with my fingers. The moment she was secured, I dropped one barrier inside my mind. Harnessing a small taste of violence, I surged into her.
She cried out with the brutal thrust, panting as I drove into her. My heart drummed with angry conditioning, fighting with sexual need.
Her legs came up to imprison my hips, pulling me deeper inside.
I growled as a fresh burst of urges filtered through my blood, almost stealing me from reality. But I held on. I focused. I concentrated. I never reverted to Ghost.
“God you feel so good. So tight. So perfect.” I rocked harder, filling her with everything I had. She was mine, and I wanted to mark her to prove it.
Releasing her wrists, I dropped my hands, forcing one finger into her mouth. “Suck it,” I ordered.
Her eyes flared and lips latched around me, dragging me into her mouth. The matching wetness and heat drove me wild. I pumped harder and harder.
“Do you feel me?” I growled, loving the sparking orgasm building in my balls.
She nodded, sucking my finger, biting with sharp, little teeth. Her legs spasmed around my hips. “You taste of metal and smoke. You feel f**king amazing, Fox.”
I groaned. I couldn’t hold off any more.
The sparking release exploded in my belly and I came, filling her with everything left inside me.
She tensed beneath me, throwing her head back as her internal muscles rippled, wave after wave, squeezing my length with delectable strength.
Her body went from rigid to floppy and a small smile twitched her lips.
Cursing the headache and the still insistent conditioning, I kissed Zel on the tip of her nose. “How can I get you to remember?”
She frowned, a sated glow flushing her cheeks. “Remember what?”
Lowering my head, I bit her neck. “To call me Roan.”
Chapter 17
Happiness.
Such a farce.
I’d been happy—blindingly happy only twice in my life.
The first was when I held Clara just after she was born. She unlocked emotions and joy I never knew existed.
The second was when I landed a job at a prestigious company thanks to a forged resume. I might have earned the job with lies, but I earned a bonus in the first month thanks to my work ethic.
Both showed my life improving, both hinted at pleasures to come.
Then I met Fox and I dared to hope I’d have a third moment of happiness.
But just like everything, it was the brief interlude before the main event.
The eye of the storm.
The beginning of the end.
I’m pregnant.
Not a whoopsy daisy I was stupid and forgot to use contraception. Not a I was sick and didn’t use other precautions while on the pill. Not a I forgot to update my shot or my coil didn’t work or the condom broke or I forgot to take the morning after pill.
Nothing like that.
No, life found a way to create something from nothing, cementing a marvel inside a womb that’d been confirmed as sterile forever.
I didn’t believe in miracles, but I did believe in second chances.
And this was Fox’s.
Roan’s.
For three days, I nursed the news. I sat awake at night, running my hands through Clara’s thick hair, imagining a future where she’d survive and grow up with a baby sister or brother. I painted a fairy-tale where Fox could be touched and loved, and we created a wonderful family from a very dysfunctional beginning.
I wanted to tell him. I went through every scenario of how to announce the news.
Every time he looked at Clara with smitten eyes the words I’m having your child danced on my tongue, waiting to be said.
But I cradled the news with utmost secrecy.
You’re avoiding it because you don’t know how you feel.
My hand fell on my flat stomach. I would never terminate a pregnancy, but I couldn’t wrap my head around holding another child. Loving another child.
It felt traitorous to Clara. I felt unfit and unworthy, and it tore me up inside. I couldn’t love another cherub-cheeked baby—it was a betrayal to her.
Wasn’t it?
I threw up twice—not from morning sickness—but from guilt. Guilt for loving another child as much as I loved Clara. Guilt for replacing her.
That was my true issue.
My firstborn will be dead, but I’ll have another. I wouldn’t have the time to mourn, or the luxury to forget about life. I wouldn’t have the privilege of ruining my own world once Clara left me.
I would have to go on surviving, smiling, living, all for a baby I’d never thought I’d have.
And it made me f**king angry.
Angry to recognise how weak I was—knowing I would love this baby with everything I was, which wasn’t f**king fair to Clara. She owned my heart, body, and soul, and she would be dead.
I was dizzy, tired, and nauseous trying to come to terms with gaining a life just before I lost one.
Ironically, I kept my secret because of my own regret, but Clara was the one who made sure I’d never tell him.
It was Tuesday, and the club was quiet.
After a trip to the bathroom to yet again scream at myself to consolidate my stressed emotions, I entered the office where we were finishing some paperwork.
Fox sat at his desk, dressed in black, surrounded by black; he looked like the son of a scarred kind-hearted shadow.
Clara lay on her stomach, little legs flying, hands cupping her chin as she watched Nemo on the large flatscreen.
Fox looked up; a gentle smile graced his lips. “I’m done here. I was thinking we could all go out—maybe grab takeaway and watch the sunset?” He laughed. “Listen to me—never thought I’d say such a domesticated thing.”
Clara looked over her shoulder, grinning. “I want fish and chips. But I don’t want to eat Nemo, so make sure the fisherman doesn’t kill him.”
Fox shook his head, eyes glowing with love.
He’ll make an amazing father.
I flinched, taking in the domestic bliss in front of me. Despite his touching issue, Fox was perfect. Strong enough to protect, wealthy enough to provide, fierce enough to love with everything bared.
His snowy eyes met mine, and my stomach tripped over itself. The message he sent was lust. He wanted me. For the past three nights, I’d sneaked into his room once Clara was asleep, and I let him tie my hands before giving me all of himself. He f**ked me, but made love to me. He gave me sweet and gentle wrapped up in brutal violence.
My heart fluttered, responding to his unspoken request. I wanted him, too. Not just now, but for always.
I want this. All of it.
Forever.
My heart switched from fluttering weightlessly to plummeting like a stone. My eyes fell on Clara. I hated my sad thoughts. I despised the weakness and perpetual grief.
Nothing lasted forever. I just had to embrace every moment I could and prepare myself for pain at the end. I would miss her like I would miss my own soul, but I would live on.
I would be the universe for another child who needed me.
The pregnancy had thrown my world off balance, and I hadn’t found my feet in this new gravity.
Fox deserved to know about the new life inside me—perhaps it would be enough for him to keep his sanity when Clara was gone.
You know that’s not true. Not possibly true.
Clara would rip a chunk of our hearts out, and we’d never be the same. My shining star would burn out and leave us in the dark.
Roan stood, pushing his chair back. The energy in the room increased as he moved toward me. My skin sparked in anticipation of his touch; my body warmed, preparing for his possession.
And then it shattered.
Clara coughed. Nothing huge, nothing scary or major. I thought nothing of it.
But the silence afterward sent icicles stabbing into my flesh. My eyes flew to her, almost in slow motion.
More icicles stabbed my limbs, drawing forth agony and terror.
Clara’s legs went from kicking in the air to sprawled, her little elbows gave way, and her head thunked against the carpet.
“No!” Shit.
Shoving past Roan, I threw myself onto the carpet and gathered her rigid form into my arms. Her little body was a plank of rigid wood. Her eyes rolled back, white and vacant. Her lips opened and closed fruitlessly trying to drag oxygen into her body.
“What the f**k?” Fox slammed to the floor beside me. His large presence crowded me, making me claustrophobic.
“Get back. She can’t breathe!” I hoisted her torso upright, willing her to suck in a breath. “Come on, sweetheart. Come on. You can do it. Please. Not yet. Come on.” Her lungs wheezed and clattered as a smidgen of air got through.
“Give her to me,” Fox demanded, shoving me aside to spread Clara onto her back. I toppled sideways, tears distorting my vision. “Call 111.” His blazing blizzard eyes met mine. “Go!”
Scrambling to my feet, I ran back to the room I shared with my rapidly fading daughter and upended the bag Clue had packed for us. Clothes, toiletries, and cuddly toys went flying. “Where is it? Where the f**k is it?”
I shoved aside items frantically until my fingers latched around the asthma inhaler. Charging upright, I raced back to the office.
Fox had one hand pinching her nose while he breathed a lungful of air into Clara’s mouth. Her chest rose, then fell as he leaned back and pressed the heel of his hand against her bony chest.
“That won’t work. She needs this. She needs the medicine.” I shoved his shoulder, causing him to shoot a hand out to stay upright. His back tensed as he fought whatever urges he dealt with.
Positioning my hand behind her neck, I looked into Clara’s rolling, panicked eyes. “Suck in, okay? You know how to do this.” A flicker of life returned to her gaze, and I pushed the inhaler past her blue-tinged lips.
Fox looked like a black-hole beside me, trembling with rage and dread.
“What’s happening to her?” he growled.
Ignoring him, I pressed the trigger, administering a cloud of medicine into Clara’s mouth. She wheezed, gulping what she could.
But it wasn’t enough.
Hot scalding fear replaced my blood as her little hand clawed at her throat. Her lips turned from blue to indigo.
“Lay her down,” Fox snapped.
“She can’t breathe like that!”
“Just do it!” Fox yanked Clara from me and placed her on her back again. Planting his massive scarred hand over her chest, he pushed down hard. Glaring, he ordered, “Do it again.”
With shaking hands, I placed the inhaler in Clara’s lips and stabbed the plunger. Fox slowly removed the pressure from Clara’s chest, effectively dragging the medicine into her lungs by manual force.
A second ticked past, then another.
“One day, when I grow up, I want to be a doctor, so I can stop people coughing like me.”
The memory came and went so fast, I barely acknowledged it. But my heart died with terror—I couldn’t let her go. No!
I couldn’t stand it. I had to give her another dose. I had to save her.
Then the silence was broken by her spluttering and sucking in greedy lungfuls of oxygen. She lurched off the carpet like a drowning survivor, drinking in air as fast as she could.
I slumped in massive relief, then sucked back tears as a bout of coughing hit, reminding me this time she’d stayed alive. But the next or the next…
Don’t think about it.
All I cared about was that she was alive and breathing again. I needed to stay strong and not focus on the unchangeable future.
Awareness filled Clara’s eyes and tears welled. She reached for me, and I dragged her into my lap. “I don’t like it, mummy. When will it stop?”
My stomach clenched. I sat rocking, peppering her forehead with kisses. “You’re okay. It’s alright. Breathe.”
Clara’s breathing slowly changed from rattling to smooth, and she rested her heavy head on my shoulder. Her body heat comforted me—reminding me I hadn’t lost her yet.
I didn’t know how much time passed as I drowned in memories of her. The joy on her face when I painted our bedroom with purple horses, the way her face screwed up when she sneakily stole a sip wine. Everything about her had been three dimensional animation. And it killed me to watch her fade to crackling black and white.
A lone tear slid down my face as I rocked and stared into the past. I lost track of where I was. I lost track of Fox. All I focused on was my slumbering daughter, balled tight and fragile in my arms.
My arms couldn’t hold her hard enough. I wished all my health and strength could filter into her through osmosis. I cursed God that I couldn’t trade my life for hers. The lump of terror that’d replaced my heart hung heavy and unbeating in my chest.
