Page 96 of His To Claim
Thirty-Four
ACE
The son of a bitch.
How dare he put his hands on what is mine? I swear if I ever get the chance to get Macallan alone in a room, I will end him for daring to put his filthy hands on my girl. He laid his poisoned lips against hers and forced himself on her body.
It infuriates me just thinking about what I saw when I barged into the room. She was straddling him, her hot cunt almost grinding against his dick. At least she would have been if I’d waited any longer. I saw red, rage flowing through me like never before, and knew that I had to get him the fuck away from her. I had to get her out of his clutches.
He’d been a fucking coward and drugged her. There is no other way she’d willingly surrender herself to him.
At first, I was angry at her for allowing him to touch her that way, to touch what she often says isn’t mine. I wanted to swing her over my shoulder and show her just how much her body, hermouth, and that tight, pink, and plump little cunt belongs to me. But then I saw it.
Her head fell back, and her body grew limp against his. I knew then she wasn’t doing it out of her own free will and as many times as I tempted her, kissed her, and made her want me, I never forced her to do anything she didn’t want.
My mind’s full of unanswered questions. What would have happened if I hadn’t walked in when I did? How far would he have taken it? How did she get in? If she’d followed me here, then why? And lastly how the fuck did I not notice she’d followed me?
I step out onto the balcony of my beach house, staring at the silent water before me. It’s peaceful out there among the vast waters and gentle waves. The ocean limitless and seemingly endless, the outside world beyond the horizon oblivious to our world and all its glorious, fucked up issues.
It fools us into believing we can escape our reality. Making us believe we could flee this world we live in, our personal hell. But it’s all just an illusion. We can’t escape, I can’t. I must remember my place in all of this, I was born to wash away the sins of those who poison the world we live in. I was bred to rid our town of the evil that threatens to consume it. To cleanse our empire from sinful forces on the outside who want to control it, or worse destroy it. I repeat the mantra constantly, hoping I won’t forget its value.
But why had I not realized before that those who turned me into this fiend, into what I am, are the ones that need to be destroyed? Wesley made me into a weapon to use against his enemies. He created the warrior he so desperately needed and he knows I’ll never turn on him.
Before it was because I looked up to him, I wanted to be like him. I blindly obeyed his orders, no questions asked because I was foolish enough to think he was all-knowing. Now he knows for damn sure I’ll never betray him. That I’ll never try to overthrow him, to bring him down. He knows this because of the beautiful,angelic, goddess lying asleep in my bed. Her beauty is beyond comparison and I have no words to describe what it is she stirs inside me.
But it’s a dangerous thing for her to know everything. If anything were to happen to her, it would destroy me. And Wesley Servite is counting on that.
Thirty-Five
SCARLETT
My body aches vigorously, drenched in a cold sweat, chills running across my entire body. My mouth is dry, my tongue numb. God, I feel like I’m dying a slow and painful death.
I try to pry open my tired eyes, but find they’re nearly glued together by a crusty discharge. I must have been dead asleep for that to happen. Finally, I open them, but the light shining through blinds me.
“Ahh,” I groan, grabbing my head as a piercing ache runs through it, my vision trying to adjust to the light around me.
“Morning, angel,” Ace says as he slowly approaches the bed.
My eyes find him and fuck if he isn’t the perfect sight to see first thing in the morning. Shirtless, his body a perfectly chiseled work of art, with tattoos wrapping around almost every inch of exposed skin making my mouth water. My perfect fantasy come to life.
I sit up quickly and notice I’m not in my bedroom, but this alsoisn’t his bedroom, the one we slept together in back at Servite Manor. Looking behind him out the floor length window, I see a beautiful panoramic view of the ocean.
He must have brought me to his room at the beach house. I turn back to him, his eyes watching me attentively.
“Morning,” I answer slowly, not having the energy to say anything else.
“Wow, no what the hell am I doing here, Ace? Or why the fuck am I in your bed, Ace?” he mocks with a sly smirk.
Damn, it’s unnerving how he guesses exactly what I’d have said. “What the hell happened to me last night, Ace?”
“There she is,” he says as he sits beside me on the bed, the mattress shifting as his body settles alongside mine.
“I’m serious, Ace, I don’t… it’s all fuzzy, and my head is killing me.”
His face hardens, the earlier smirk gone and in its place a hard lined expression. “Let’s just say you took something you shouldn’t have.”
I turn my head so fast I need to close my eyes as a sharp wave of pain rushes through my temples. I open my eyes and catch a glimpse of guilt in his eyes.