Page 38 of The Heir

I scrambled to get off my knees, grabbing her waist, shoulders, and finally taking her face in my hands.

“Hey,” I demanded her attention, even if my voice was nothing more than a harsh whisper.

Her eyes widened and my blood turned cold. She had thick armor, but now that it was off, there was no denying that someone had put fear into her.

“You’re a fucking baddie, alright? You saved yourself. You hopped on and rode that bitch instead of tearing through the carnival crowd on foot. You made that choice.” I reminded her.

She smiled and tried to avert her gaze, but I swiped her tears, and planted my lips to her forehead. I held her there for a moment until her hands returned to my waist.

“I don’t know what the fuck this is, March. I don’t know why I feel the way that I do about you, but–” I stared into those big, blue eyes, and any fool could see the terrified creature looking back at me.

It made my words catch. I didn’t want to fill her head with bullshit. I wanted to fill her with truths, and hope that she felt the same comfort and anchor in me that I’d found in her.

“It’s been like what, two days?” I squinted at her and teased my fingertips up and down her jaw. “This shit is crazy. It’s real, and it’s fuckin’ crazy. I have no business speaking with you like this, but, girl, you should know that I’ll never not be in your corner. You don’t have to face anything or anyone alone anymore. And I’ll nevernotstand up to Makaveli. He’s loud. That impresses fear in some people, I get it. Loud might be unpredictable. It might be crazy. That ain’t the case with Mak though. The mob took his sister. They killed his mother and when it came to retrieving Trista, it was Oak who stepped up. Oak’s dad killed the head of the Valentino mafia while Makaveli played house with his new wife. Hey, his sister came home. I can see how small-town folk might equate that into meaning he must have really shown the mob— but you and I know the truth, right? The truth that kept me away for nearly eighteen years.”

She swallowed hard, but didn’t say anything.

“I meant what I told him. I want you. Not in the forest. Not on the run or just for right now. I want you to be mine, Marchella. Fuck Makaveli. You’re my princess now.”

Chapter Fifteen

Marchella

I’d fantasized about him calling me his in so many different ways over the past few days. He was perfect. The son of Anthony Aviston. The nephew of Easy Aviston. He’d been drawn to me before he knew who I was. He didn’t give a fuck about my father or brother or the club, so he couldn’t be coming at me to get to them. He was gorgeous, tall, and so, so, talented with that tongue.

It was a goddamn dream come true– Until he opened his mouth, and I realized with a chilling certainty that he was not one of us. I knew he wasn’t a disciple, but he was an outsider. A clueless outsider with federal agents for parents.

What the fuck was I thinking?

“I– “ Was all I could manage, so I just lifted to my toes and kissed him, hoping it was enough to keep the tears at bay.

He kissed me back and tenderly stroked my hair, holding my naked body to his. After a while, I forgot the shock of it all, but when it ended, and I opened my eyes reality came back.

“I need to get–”

“Where?” He laughed.

“You’re not going to Makaveli’s house.”

“No.” I agreed, that was definitely out of the question.

My father would be drunk and ready for confrontation. He was bested in front of me and that never went over well for anyone.

“My grandparents live on a farm not far from here.” I caught up with my senses and finished straightening out my pants. I shoved my other leg in and jerked everything up, fastening as quickly as I could.

I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, which didn’t seem to be a problem since I couldn’t find my shirt and was really having to search. I looked everywhere but at him twice, before I finally huffed.

“I guess I lost my—” I started, only to stop when I turned back and realized he was holding it. “Did you plan on keeping a souvenir?”

“No, just wondering what was going on inside–” He stepped toward me and raised a finger to motion toward my head.

I averted my eyes and snagged my shirt from him.

“Marchella, if I said something that offended you...”

“You didn’t.” I looked at him, so he believed me.

His eyes tightened, like he was processing what he’d heard.