WHEN THE PACT ENDS
2008 Words
THE PACT OF FIVE
CHAPTER 6: WHEN THE PACT ENDS
The library at Blackthorn Manor is my sanctuary. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined with leather-bound tomes, a grand fireplace crackling with a fire that does little to warm the chill in my bones. The scent of old paper and polished wood is usually comforting, but tonight, it feels like a *trap.* The heavy oak door is closed, the lock turned, but I know it won’t keep them out for long. Not after this morning.
*Micah in my shower. Knox’s rage. The others’ hunger.*
I trace my fingers along the spine of an old book, the embossed gold lettering rough under my touch. The firelight dances across the pages of the novel in my lap, but I haven’t read a word. My mind is too full of *them*—their touches, their voices, their *promises.*
The clock on the mantel ticks loudly, each second a reminder: *25 days left.*
I should be *terrified.* I *should* be hiding under my bed. But all I feel is this *ache*, this *need* coiling tighter in my stomach with every passing hour.
The doorknob *rattles.*
My head snaps up, my heart *hammering.* I know that *sound.* I know *him.*
The door doesn’t open. It *creaks* as it swings inward, revealing Knox in the doorway, his broad frame filling the space. He’s changed out of his suit into a black t-shirt and dark jeans, the fabric clinging to his powerful chest. His hair is damp, like he’s just showered, and the scent of dark coffee and power washes over me, making my *knees* weak.
He doesn’t say anything at first. Just *watches* me, his dark eyes *burning* into me like he’s memorizing every inch of my face.
I swallow hard, forcing my voice steady. "The door was *locked.*"
His lips curl into a dark smile. "And you think that would *stop* me?"
I *should* be *furious.* I *should* throw a book at his head. But the way he’s looking at me—like I’m the only thing in the world worth seeing—makes my *skin* tingle.
He steps inside, shutting the door behind him with a quiet *click.* The sound echoes in the vast library, bouncing off the high ceilings. The firelight flickers across his face, casting shadows that make him look even more *dangerous.*
"You’ve been *avoiding* us," he says, his voice rough.
I lift my chin. "Maybe I have."
His jaw *clenches.* "Why?"
I *laugh*, but it’s *shaky.* "Oh, I don’t know, Knox. Maybe because *Micah* walked in on me in the *shower* this morning? Maybe because *Jax* can’t keep his *hands* to himself? Maybe because *Cole* kissed me and you *lost your s**t?*"
His eyes *flash.* "And what about *me?*"
My breath *catches.* "What about you?"
He takes a step forward, his body caging me in against the bookshelf. The heat of him *burns* through my thin sweater, his scent *intoxicating* me. "You think I *liked* watching Micah in there with you? You think I *liked* seeing you *wet,* your body *bare* for him?"
I *should* push him away. Should *remind* him of the pact. But I don’t. I just stand there, my heart *hammering,* my body *aching* for his touch.
His hand lifts, his knuckles brushing my cheek. A spark. A *brand.* "You’re *mine,* Lena. And in twenty-five days, I’m going to *prove* it."
My breath *hitches.* "And what if I don’t *want* to be yours?"
His lips curl into a dark smile, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. "You *do.*"
I *should* deny it. Should *lie.* But the truth is, I *do.* I *want* him. I *want* all of them.
His other hand slides around my waist, pulling me against him. His body is *hard,* all muscle and heat and *hunger.* "You *felt* it last night. The way your body *responded* to me. The way you *arched* into my touch."
I *whimper,* my hands flying to his chest. "Knox—"
"Tell me to stop," he murmurs, his lips a *breath* from mine. "Tell me to *leave.*"
I *should.* I *know* I should. But the words *die* in my throat.
Because the truth is, I *don’t* want him to stop.
His lips crash onto mine, *hard* and *hungry,* and I *moan* into him, my hands fisting in his shirt, my body *melting* against his. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, *claiming* me, *owning* me, and *fuck,* it’s *everything* I’ve ever *fantasized* about and *more.*
His hands slide down my back, his fingers *digging* into my ass, pulling me against him. I can *feel* him—*hard* and *ready*—and my core *aches* with the need to have him *inside* me.
But then—
*Click.*
The sound of the library door *again.*
We *freeze.*
Knox tears his lips from mine, his chest heaving, his eyes *wild.* And when I look past him, there they are—**Cole, Jax, Zane, and Micah**, all standing in the doorway, their expressions a mix of *rage* and *hunger* and *betrayal.*
Knox’s jaw *clenches,* but he doesn’t let go of me. Not yet.
Cole’s voice is a *growl.* "You *promised,* Knox."
Knox’s grip on me *tightens.* "And I’ll *keep* it."
Jax’s smirk is *dark.* "Sure looks like you’re *keeping* it."
Zane doesn’t say anything. He just *watches* me, his gray eyes *cold,* his expression unreadable.
And Micah? Micah just *grins,* like this is the *best* damn day of his life.
Knox’s voice is a *whip-crack.* "Get the *fuck* out."
Cole’s green eyes *burn* into me. "Lena—"
"I said *out,*" Knox snarls, his body *tensing* like he’s ready to *fight* them all.
For a second, I think they’re going to *brawl* right here in the library. But then, one by one, they *back down.* Cole first, his shoulders *slumping* as he turns away. Jax next, his smirk *gone,* replaced by a *snarl.* Zane last, his gaze *lingering* on me for a second too long before he follows the others out.
The door *clicks* shut behind them, and the room *explodes* with tension.
Knox’s grip on me *loosens,* but he doesn’t let go. His dark eyes *burn* into me, his voice a *growl.* "You’re *playing* with fire, little shadow."
I *laugh,* but it’s *shaky,* my body *trembling* with *need,* with *fury,* with *fear.* "Maybe I *like* the burn."
His lips curl into a dark smile, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. "Then you’re gonna *love* what happens when the pact ends."
And then he’s *gone,* leaving me standing there, my skin on fire, my mind racing, my body *aching* with a need I don’t even understand.
Because the *worst* part?
I *know* he’s right.
And in twenty-five days, "She thinks she’s in control. But when that clock hits zero, I’ll show her what real hunger looks like."
- Writer
