Corrupted Union

20

Rowan played back the recording. It was less than a minute long. We used my phone to translate the recording one section at a time. The girl rambled, begging for help, but did give a few tidbits of information. They took her, and then she was with other women in the dark for many days. Had she been trafficked on one of Wellington’s ships? Was he embedded in the skin trade? Every day that went by, the situation seemed to get worse and worse. “You’re not going over there again,” I informed her. “In fact, while you’ve got your phone out, text the kid and tell him it’s over. He needs to hear it from you.” Rowan shot to her feet. “Excuse me?” The fight in her tone sent my temper soaring. Why would she possibly be defensive about breaking things off with him? “If you think you’re about to argue with me, then save it. There is nothing to discuss.” “Pardon my impertinence, my liege.” She swept her arms wide with a condescending bow. “I didn’t realize you had rule over my life.” I prowled forward, just barely keeping my anger in check. “It would seem someone has to since your judgment is questionable.” Each word was clipped and menacing. Rowan wasn’t the slightest bit affected. I’d seen career criminals piss themselves when I confronted them, but not Rowan. This maddening woman only seemed to dig her heels in deeper. “If anyone’s judgment is questionable, it’s yours. How else are we supposed to get that woman out of there if I’m no longer welcome inside? She was f*****g terrified, Keir—chained and bruised and who knows what else she’s suffered. Things I don’t even want to imagine. I’m not leaving her there alone.” Every impassioned word of her speech was another wave on the shore, washing away my resolve. By the time she was done, nothing remained but raw desire. I’d told myself after kissing her the last time that I couldn’t do it again. I was already dangerously close to addiction. One more sip from her lips, and I’d want to devour her whole. I’d want to own every goddamn inch of her body and soul. I knew the danger, but she had me wound too tight. Lust coiled from my belly down to my straining c**k. My balls were practically burrowing their way back into my body in search of release. The thought of branding her with my c*m launched me over the edge. My lips crashed down on hers. I didn’t just kiss her. I f****d her mouth with my tongue, hands branding her body, and lungs hoping to steal her soul from deep within. Like the last time, she didn’t taste like strawberry lip gloss or mint gum. That would be too typical for her. Rowan Alexander tasted like summer rain and heartbreak. Mine or hers, I couldn’t be sure. Either way, I was addicted. It took every last shred of my control to finally pull away from her. “f**k, you drive me crazy,” I said with a ragged breath. “Is that why you kissed me?” “I was just shutting you up.” I wished it were that simple. The corners of her lips twitched before she sobered again. “I’m not breaking it off with him.” I locked eyes with her and dropped every barrier so she’d hear the truth in what I was about to say. “If I see him near you again, I’ll kill him.” Her lips parted twice before she found her words. “Keir, he has nothing to do with this.” “You don’t know that.” She frowned. “I don’t think he’s involved, but I’ll stay away from him for now.” “For now?” I stepped away, turning my back to help calm myself. “Why the f**k are you fighting for him?” “It’s not just him. Don’t you understand?” “No, I don’t.” My voice raised dangerously close to a shout. “Enlighten me.” Rowan’s shoulders relaxed, and a veil of callous determination settled over her features. “Stetson is the man I’m supposed to marry. If that falls apart, and his father is arrested, my father will be devastated. It may even end his career because of the family ties. I will not let that happen if it’s remotely in my power.” “You’d rather let your father live in some fairy tale while you’re miserable than make him face reality?” “Yes,” she hissed, emotion seeping past her walls. Fury and revulsion carved my voice into a steel blade. “That, Miss Alexander, is f****d up.” With nothing left to say, I walked past her and let myself out. OceanofPDF.com The scream I so desperately wanted to unleash reverberated in my head. It filled every crook and crevice of my mind until I couldn’t breathe. Frustration filled my lungs instead of air, and I so desperately wanted to let it out, but I’d spent my entire life learning to keep it in. More than that, I’d taught myself to keep emotions so buried that they couldn’t find the surface. If they didn’t even exist, I didn’t have to rein them in. Life was a series of check marks. I knew what was expected of me and accomplished tasks to further those goals. Everything was so much easier that way. And then I met Keir. He was an earthquake that split my surface wide open. He’d created a crevasse down to the deepest parts of me, allowing everything I’d buried to leak free. The damage to my defenses was too catastrophic to duct tape over. I’d tried, but it wasn’t working. A hurricane of emotion was brewing, and I had no idea how I’d survive it. Keir’s parting words were the distant rumbles of thunder, teasing devastation. I’d never hated my last name so damn much. That, Miss Alexander, is f****d up. “f**k you, Mr. Byrne. You don’t even know the half of it.” I bent and shoved my sofa as far as it would go into the kitchen area, then put in my AirPods. Normally, I would change clothes before dancing, but I didn’t usually have an overbearing Irishman challenging the very core of my identity. I kicked off my shoes and put on my most angsty, emotional playlist. Lana Del Rey’s “Happiness is a Butterfly” filled my ears, the perfect balm to my aching soul. It was times like this my ten years of ballet training seeped into my dancing. If I was working out frustration or expressing joy, I tended to go with much more contemporary choreography, but tonight, no matter how angry I thought I was, the music and my moves were born out of elegant anguish only ballet could capture. I pushed myself until my calves ached and my stomach growled with hunger. Until I’d relived our kiss a thousand times over and could no longer remember why I hadn’t begged him to come back. I felt more alive around Keir than I’d felt in years, more like myself, and that terrified me. I’d thought there was only one thing I feared, but I’d been wrong. Being me—giving a voice to my desires and emotions—truly scared me because that path led to nothing but heartbreak and shame. My choices weren’t my own. My choices impacted other people, and I couldn’t forget that. If I allowed myself to want what I couldn’t have, I’d be more miserable than Keir thought I already was.