Wicked Wolf (Wicked Ever After Book 3) Page 6

  I shake off the shudder and the urge to turn to them, to beg them to come to my dungeon.

  God, I want them there.

  I see Beast, concern radiating off him even from a distance. Beauty is picking her way through the club, seating herself neat and precise in Charm’s chair, and I nod at her as I go to Beast, leaving Scarlet and Hunter behind.

  Beauty nods once, mask eerily blank.

  I really didn’t understand how my best friend managed to fall in love with a girl so reserved, who insists on always wearing a mask and refuses to use her real name.

  More puzzling still is that she’s like that in her own home, when it’s just her and Beast. It baffles me, because he’s so open, like a raw nerve of feeling.

  I asked about it once, when she’d collared him in a small, private ceremony. I was drunk, confused, and Beast had leaned against me. He never did give me answer, but I trusted him then, and I trust him now.

  I understand Beast in ways the others can’t, have even loved him because of it. And as he presses into my side and nudges me through the club, I take the comfort he’s offering.

  Being a Dom is hard. It’s judging what your sub needs and wants, then playing the two. It’s balancing care with pain and humiliation, and finding that line that they need to be pushed over, but never too far.

  Being a sub is hard too—a different kind of bending. It’s giving up control, baring your soul and your body for the pleasure of someone else, with no promise of your own pleasure, only the promise that you will be cared for.

  Being a switch is entirely different, and so much harder than either.

  Some days it feels like a war with myself, balancing the urge to snatch control with the need to kneel for a Dom. It’s a constant fight to determine if I need to be fucked or if I need to do the fucking. There’s no one holding my leash, no one who can tell me what I want, because what I want—what I need—changes as often as the person I’m with.

  Beast pushes me across the Floor and I let him, because right now I can’t take control, can’t handle any decisions. I’ve made too many, had too much riding on my shoulders to keep her safe and keep Hunter at a distance, and keep myself from shattering between them.

  I make a noise, and he catches it, tugging me into his side, tucking my head into the crook of his neck and propelling me into the heart of the Kingdom.

  Beast is, as always, exceptional at reading people.

  I give it up—all of the pressure that’s crashing on me, the hiccup of emotion in my throat, and I let him take me to a Domme who will give me oblivion.

  Just for a few hours, she’ll make me forget.

  Chapter 11.

  When I first moved into the White family home, I was pretty sure that no one faced consequences, ever. I didn’t think they knew consequences were a thing that happened to us. Zeke did what he wanted, and his younger sister Raven was a mean girl of extreme proportions.

  There was also Stanford, the bastard who'd gotten my mother pregnant and never bothered to give a fuck.

  Consequences, I figured, belonged to other people. They sure as fuck didn't belong to the Whites.

  Stanford never set me straight on that. But then, Stanford wouldn't have been able to. I didn't believe a word he said, even in the rare moments when he bothered to speak to me.

  But Mal—Mal took me under his wing, made sure I was shipped to Wilderwood with him, and taught me how to be me.

  Sometimes, people ask us why the fuck we put up with Mal, with his games and his shit, with his temper and aloofness.

  That's why. Mal taught us all. He put a riding prop in my hand, showed Charm how to use that need for control and sharp edge of deviance, taught Beast to kneel.

  He showed us how to be us.

  Because of that, for him, we'd walk through fire.

  ~

  Mal was the one who sat me down, after I stole Stanford's Bugatti and took a joyride through the countryside, and asked why.

  Stanford was too pissed to bother asking, but the simple answer was because I could, and because no one was gonna stop me.

  Mal nodded. "No one will stop you, Charles. You can do whatever the hell you want—as long as you're willing to reap the consequences of those actions."

  It took me a while to figure out what that meant, that there would always be consequences.

  Stanford bought his way out of them, for himself and for Raven. He even did it for Zeke, when he could be bothered to show up at the family place.

  It's why Mal didn't get along with Stan, because Mal refused to let the consequences slide.

  It's probably why Mal and I hit it off. Of all the Whites, of all the fucked up family I got that I didn't want, Mal accepted the weight of his choices.

  As the living, breathing consequence of a fucked up night, that mattered to me.

  So I went to the Kingdom and I let a Domme—a sweet little thing named Heidi—work me over.

  Canes aren't something a lot of folks in the Kingdom use, but damn if Heidi didn't use it really fucking well. She kept me on the cusp of orgasm and sharp edge of pain for so long that when she finally did sink onto my cock, pushing my back into the rough wood table I'd been strapped to, I came embarrassingly fast.

  More importantly, I forgot the shit at home for a few hours.

  I paid the price for it the next morning, and the one after, and the one after that. Time stretched by endlessly, and I can’t remember ever feeling so fucking awkward.

  I blink as Scarlet stalks into the kitchen. It's been four days since the Kingdom and I still can't get her to sit at the breakfast table with me. She's acting like a jealous lover, which is ridiculous and unfair.

  The words are out before I can stop them. "You do know I'm not with you, right?"

  She throws a disdainful glare at me, dumps some sugar into her coffee, and leaves the room with a single comment tossed over her shoulder.

  “You’ve made that abundantly fucking clear.”

  ~

  Consequences. They’re super fun.

  ~

  The only place that doesn't feel strange is Robins Tech. There, we aren't three people who mean too much and not enough. We aren't jealous of what we can't have.

  When we walk through those doors, Scarlet sheds her anger like a skin, and the brilliant tech genius is back, cool and in control, and I can't help how fucking proud of her I am.

  She's not a petulant teenager getting into trouble at Wilderwood anymore. Scarlet is still a little petty, and she still tends to be more spoiled than is good for her, but she's also brilliant, and she's a consummate professional when we're at Robins Tech.

  The waiting has us all on edge. It’s all we’re able to do. Hunter has laid his cyber traps. It’s just a matter of letting Sal fall into them, and he will.

  But the waiting is fucking hard, especially when we're at Robins Tech, where it's more difficult to keep her safe.

  At home, Scarlet is angry and distant, but I know what there is to protect her from. Here, I want to lock her in her office and stand in front of it like a damn guard dog.

  I shift as there's a rap on her door, and she looks up, frowning at it. We don't have any meetings planned for the afternoon—she had her schedule cleared so we could leave early in order to visit Rosalie, before physical therapy wiped her out.

  I checked the door, and my whole body goes stiff.

  Sal Robins leans against the door frame, giving me a slow smile. He's all cocky self-assurance, and entirely untouchable.

  "Let him in," Scarlet says, touching my wrist softly before she retreats back to her desk.

  I open the door wide enough for Sal to enter and watch him as he strolls in like he owns the place, seating himself across from Scarlet.

  "Heard you called a Board meeting, little cousin."

  "Good to know you do in fact get the company memos," she says, sugar sweet.

  "We don't usually call the Board unless there's a breakthrough in R&D."

  She crosses her h
ands and says patiently, "I'm the acting CEO, Sal. I'm very aware of what our normal policy is. Do you have something you'd like to share at the meeting?"

  He stares at her for a long moment, then laughs lightly as he stands and adjusts his tie. "Not at all, little cousin. I'll let you get back to your...work."

  She watches him as he moves to the door. "Sal, I want us to work together. That's what Grandmama would prefer."

  He stares at her, and his lips twitch toward a smile. "Yeah, little cousin. Me too."

  I wait until he's gone and then I look at her. "You know he's lying, right?"

  Something strangely like grief crosses Scarlet’s face and she nods. "Yeah, Wolf. I know."

  ~

  Walking into the hospital at Scarlet’s side now, instead of rushing in with no idea how she’s doing, settles something jagged and ugly in my chest.

  Not like I didn’t know she was fine, but it’s soothing to see her moving around with no pain, no bruises on her pretty skin. She’s been fine for days, but it helps, in ways I can’t name.

  Hunter has come with her before, so it’s not surprising that she walks like she knows exactly where she’s going, with the quiet assurance she belongs here.

  That’s something I’ve always loved about Scarlet—she owns every inch of her skin and the situations she’s thrust into.

  She taps once on the door to a private room and then slips inside, her expression already spreading into a wide smile, the tension that had been in her shoulders melting away.

  “Grandmama,” she sings, cheerful.

  Rosalie Robins is the matriarch of a wealthy family, the widow of one of the original tech geniuses, and a fucking force of nature. She’s sitting up on her hospital bed, one leg crossed under her as she glares at the laptop in front of her.

  “Why the hell did you call a Board meeting?”

  “Because R&D has new tech to show us,” Scarlet says blandly. She fluffs Rosalie’s pillows and nudges her back, confiscating the laptop in the process. “And yes, I know that there are threats. I’m taking care of them.”

  Dark eyes scowl up at Scarlet. “Your cousin.”

  “Will fall in line or hang himself,” Scarlet says, her voice impossibly even, and Rosalie looks at her, finally really looks.

  Something like a smile ticks at the old woman’s lips. “You have a plan, then?”

  “Yes, Grandmama.”

  Rosalie makes a low, amused noise in her throat, and turns her attention to me.

  “You are keeping her safe?”

  “Always, ma’am.”

  Warmth flickers in her eyes, startling me before she nods and waves me away. “Let me have a moment with my granddaughter, little Wolf.”

  I hide a smile and duck out the door, closing it gently behind me.

  ~

  I was eighteen. It was December, and I was eighteen and so goddamn stupid it was breathtaking.

  Scarlet was bouncing from foot to foot in the snow, Caesar still and quiet behind her. I was chain smoking not far away, feeling a little bitter and a lot angry.

  I loathed the holidays.

  I loathed that every damn year, I expected things to be different, for Mom to show up or Stan to give a fuck that he had another kid.

  Neither ever did. Charm dragged me home with him as much as he could, but they were spending this year with his mother’s parents in the middle of nowhere, and I wasn’t going to intrude on that.

  I’d stay on campus and haunt the halls, and it’d be fantastic.

  Also boring as hell, but hey.

  “That one,” a slow voice said, breaking into my thoughts, “is very prowly.”

  Hunter’s laugh drew my attention when I’d normally dismiss the voice and the pronouncement, and I glared over at them. He was standing between Scarlet and a dignified old woman wearing a black pantsuit and bright red lipstick.

  “Cachorro? He is. All bark, though.”

  “Mmm, there is some bite,” Scarlet hummed, grinning at me, a filthy promise.

  “You. Wolf. Come here.”

  With Scarlet smiling at me and Hunter watching with those patient dark eyes, I couldn’t not obey, so I went.

  “You will come with us, little wolf.”

  I didn’t argue. Arguing with Rosalie was an exercise in pointlessness.

  ~

  She was the first one to call me Wolf, the name that would become mine by choice and the one everyone in the fucking world used.

  I asked her once, why.

  “You prowled, Charles. Just like your namesake, you prowled around the people you chose as your own.”

  I suppose it should tell me something, that Rosalie never believed that Scarlet and Hunter were anything less than mine.

  ~

  The Board meeting is quiet. Sal just listens attentively as R&D talks.

  Frankly, most of it is over my head. I’m not here to know what the fuck they’re talking about, though. I’m here to watch, to make sure Scarlet’s safe. Hunter stands near me, both of us a handful of steps from her, quietly attentive as R&D presents some new super special chip that will do super special things to wireless technology.

  “Does it work?” Sal asks lazily.

  “We wouldn’t be here if the tests didn’t support it,” Scarlet answers, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms. She smiles tightly.

  “I’m sure your team can provide reports to support this?”

  She nods and very sweetly says, “Of course. The reports are in your inbox.”

  He doesn’t bother looking at her, and I hold back a sigh because really, this dick is getting on my nerves. He says dismissively, “Thanks, little cousin.”

  Hunter makes a low noise in his throat, and Scarlet shifts in her chair, stilling and silencing her fiancé with that small movement alone.

  Sal smiles at him, slow and taunting, before Scarlet turns the meeting to other business.

  ~

  “He’s lying about something.”

  “You were supposed to be trapping him in that meeting,” I snap. “Instead we got to watch him insult her, undermine her, and act, more or less, like an ass. What the fuck, Hunt?”

  “He is trying to sabotage her, Wolf,” Hunter snarls, his even temper breaking. I flinch, taking a step back. He inhales and seems to center and calm himself. “Maybe he’s playing a longer game than we thought.”

  I shake my head. “No. Scarlet’s got to be removed before Rosalie is discharged and comes back, or Sal won’t stand a chance at getting control of the company.”

  “Doesn’t change that he’s not moving.”

  I fall silent momentarily, thinking. “What do we know about him?”

  Hunter sighs. “He’s brilliant, but it’s not the same kind of smart that Scar is. He’s conniving. About ten years ago, when she was still in high school, he made a play for the company and Rosalie fought him to keep control. There’ve been rumors he’s selling tech to rival companies, but it’s always done just quietly enough that he isn’t linked to it.”

  “Why the fuck is he still here?” I bark, furious.

  “Because he owns twenty percent of the company and refuses to sell his stock,” Scarlet says, striding into the room.

  “Scarlet...”

  “Look, we know he’s a problem,” she snaps, “But he’s only going to continue to be one until we catch him. So deal with the it the same way we have so far, and I’m going to continue doing my job.”

  “Scarlet,” I say, halting her as she starts for the door, leaving us in her wake.

  She pauses, frowning back at me.

  “If he won’t come after you by sabotaging the company, he’ll do it another way.”

  She nods and smiles. “That’s why I’ve got you, my Wolf. Keep me safe.”

  ~

  The problem with protection detail is that the longer it goes on, the more arduous it is to stay on edge.

  You start thinking this is just life—the mornings together, the afternoons at the company, and the
nights with Hunter while she works. It begins to become your life, even when you tell yourself you don’t get to keep it, that it isn’t yours and you’ll never be allowed.

  That’s when shit hits the fan.

  ~

  Hunter: where is she? Office is empty.

  Me: Lunch meeting came up with R&D. There now.

  Hunter: ffs. Tell me when her schedule changes, puppy.

  I smirk. It’s been a month of shadowing her and sometimes I think Hunter doesn’t care that he’s sharing her time with me.

  I mean, he still takes her to bed every night, so why the fuck would it?

  Then there are moments like this, when he can’t find her, and he panics and gets pissed.

  Me: Calm down, big guy. I’ve got our girl.

  I send it without thinking about the wording, and I realize too late. I suck in a breath, my heart beating too hard against my chest, and shove the phone in my pocket, forcing my attention on Scarlet. I’ll worry about stupid texts later.

  Kevin Cho, a young kid she plucked out of Wilderwood two years ago, is talking to her about the chip, flicking little bits of something out of his salad.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket, dragging my attention away, but then—

  Scarlet coughs, a wet, choked noise that sends ice through my veins.

  I take half a step forward. “What the hell are those?”

  Kevin’s eyes dart to me, a little scared. “Uh. Walnuts?”

  Scarlet makes the noise again and I squeeze my eyes shut, because I can’t see this.

  I can’t see her like this.

  The door opens and Hunter slips in and I gasp his name, my voice breaking.

  Scarlet gags and shoves weakly away from the table. Kevin is shouting questions and I can hear Hunter snarling into a phone and my pulse, pounding in my ears.

  And there’s her, breath choked and fingers scrambling on the glass table top as she collapses onto the floor.

  Chapter 12.