Shattered King Page 5

  “Who’re you talking about?”

  “Josh.” As soon as my son’s name exploded past my lips, I froze. Limbs turning to stone.

  “Who’s Josh?”

  I winced. Hearing Hunter say my son’s name was like a sucker-punch to the stomach. I didn’t answer.

  His face twisted. “What the fuck are you talking about, Lulu?”

  He moved his hips against mine, and I sucked in a breath. Oh God, he was hard.

  I held his wild gaze, ignoring the way he affected me, and forced myself to calm down. “Please, let me call my aunt. Let me tell her I’m okay. She’ll be worried sick. She’ll call the cops if she doesn’t hear from me soon. Please. I’ll tell her I ran into some old friends, anything you want, but please let me call her.”

  His gaze searched mine. “Not a fucking chance. I don’t trust you. I don’t believe one word that comes out of your lying, deceitful mouth. You put on a good performance, I’ll give you that. But you don’t leave this cabin until you give me what I want.”

  The fake calm evaporated and I screamed. Lifted my head, my face an inch from his, and screamed my head off.

  He smiled. “Like I said, you can scream all you want.”

  Hunter

  Lulu screamed, her small, soft, round body shaking beneath me.

  The woman was freaking out, but I had no idea what she was talking about. She also wasn’t going to fill me in, that much was clear, and I doubted I could force it out of her. I frowned down at her then shoved the unwelcome concern building inside me down deep and slammed the door. Lulu was a goddamn pathological liar and this was just another act, her trying to get me to let her go.

  One thing I did know for sure, though, was that she couldn’t hide from me—she was scared for her life.

  Yeah, I’d chained her up, kidnapped her, but the fact that she thought I was capable of physically hurting her, got to me a fuck of a lot more than it should have. Jesus, she’d never known me at all. Maybe it had been Pierce’s idea all along, us hooking up. Maybe he’d planned it from the beginning. Maybe Lulu had let me fuck her, pretended to love me, all at her stepfather’s say-so.

  Another shot of rage fired through my veins.

  She had the sweet and innocent bit down, had played me, set me up. I’d followed her around by the dick for two fucking years, believed she was the woman for me. The only woman. And it beyond pissed me off that all I could think was how fucking beautiful she still was. How smooth her skin looked. How her gray eyes shone, how the flecks of blue that you could only see when you were up close looked like motherfucking sapphires. And then there was that gorgeous red hair of hers, so damn thick. I hated myself for how desperately I wanted to shove my fingers deep in all that warmth and make her beg me for forgiveness. For her to tell me I had it all wrong.

  Fucking idiot.

  She started struggling again, her curves crushed against my front, the softness between her thighs against my hard cock.

  “Please. Please, Hunter.”

  My anger shot higher. Hearing her say my name in that tone, from that traitorous mouth, did something to me, made me feel things I did not want to fucking feel.

  “I love it when you beg, Lulu. Always have,” I taunted.

  She screamed again, making my ears ring.

  “If you don’t stop with the screaming, I’ll gag you.”

  She was panting, tits rubbing against my chest with every indrawn breath. I wanted to strangle her for making me feel this way. I also wanted to tear her shorts off and fuck her into the couch.

  “Please,” she whispered again.

  I got in her face. “Bitch, you must think I’m stupid.”

  She bit her lip and turned away. I should get off her, get the hell away, but right then I couldn’t make myself move. She’d always felt so damn good under me. Perfect. Fucking her had been my obsession. Just like this. Her beneath me, taking what I gave her. She’d loved it. Loved every fucking minute. She used to look at me like I owned the world, like she would die without me, and after the shit my brother and I had been through growing up, I’d needed that.

  I hissed out a breath. Lies. All of it.

  I stared down at her, the way her plump lower lip puffed out around her white teeth, the way her cheeks were flushed and pink. Her skin smooth, flawless. I’d always been fascinated by her skin. It was like that everywhere. I used to run my hands over her naked body for hours, tasting her, kissing her until she was squirming and dripping wet. She’d filled out a little. I could feel it. More tits and ass, belly softer.

  My gaze ran over her face. Blood had dried on her forehead. I hadn’t meant to hurt her, but when I’d seen her, I’d lost it. It was like the past three years never happened. The word mine had been on a constant loop in my head as I’d strode toward her. That had freaked me the hell out, and I’d been too rough. She wasn’t mine, not anymore. I didn’t fucking want her. Yeah, I still wanted to fuck her, but I’d never feel about her the way I once had.

  She twisted back, looking up at me, eyes soft, searching. “Can I get up, please?”

  Fuck. I ignored the way her plea made my chest squeeze and scowled down at her. “You try to run, I’ll lock you back in the bathroom.”

  I climbed up, and she scrambled off the couch. Taking her arm, I led her to the kitchen table and pushed her into one of the chairs. Her wrists were looking a little raw from all her struggling, so I unlatched the cuff and moved it to her ankle, attaching the other end to the wooden table leg.

  Grabbing a sandwich and a bottle of water from the fridge, I put them in front of her. “Eat.”

  She stared at me like I’d grown a second head.

  “You think I plan on starving you to death?”

  She cracked open the water. “How the hell would I know?”

  “I told you. Start talking and I’ll let you go.”

  “Really? You’re just going to let me go? You’re not worried I’ll go to the cops?”

  I assumed I could scare her into silence when I was through. Not the greatest plan, but then I hadn’t really been thinking clearly.

  It was obvious Lulu wasn’t going to open her mouth. She wasn’t a guy—I couldn’t beat it out of her. Maybe she was telling the truth about not knowing where Pierce was, about running from him.

  But why the hell would she be running from Pierce? I scowled. I didn’t want to care, didn’t want to fucking know. And truthfully, I didn’t believe it. Not when I knew how close they’d been.

  If Pierce was expecting a visit from her, his precious stepdaughter, at least now I had a way of drawing that fucker out. I planned to use it to my advantage. I just hoped like fuck I was right. At this point Lulu was my only way of getting to him.

  I smiled at her. It wasn’t a friendly smile. “I know how much you like talking to the cops about me, Lulu, but you won’t be doing that this time.”

  She looked away. “I have nothing to tell you. I know nothing. Keeping me here is a waste of time.”

  I let my gaze move over her face, down to her tits. A whimper echoed through the kitchen and my gaze sliced back to hers. Fuck, did that sound make my dick hard. The mix of helpless and hungry pushed all my buttons and that pissed me the hell off. “Maybe you and I have a few other things to discuss. What do you think, Lulu?” I could try and pretend this was only about finding the painting, about finding Pierce, but that wasn’t the real reason I’d brought her here. I wanted . . . no, fucking needed her to look me in the eyes and tell me the truth.

  She shook her head jerkily, a desperate look in her gray eyes. “We have nothing to talk about.”

  “No? Not even why you stabbed me in the back? Why you lied to the cops?”

  She bit her lip again, shaking her head. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  The rage that shot though me was unexpected, hitting hard and fast. My blood pressure shot to boiling point, and I fucking exploded. Picking up one of the chairs sitting around the table, I threw it against the wall. The wood
splintered, the crash deafening. I hissed a breath out through my teeth. “You really are nothing but a heartless bitch, aren’t you?”

  Her hands were braced against the table, body shoved back as far as she could go, visibly shaking. Fuck, I hated that she was scared of me and took pleasure in it at the same time. Yeah, I’d turned into one sick fuck. She’d made me this way. But then, betrayal, an unquenchable thirst for revenge, does that to a man.

  Gritting my teeth, I sucked in a breath through my nose. I couldn’t fucking stand to look at her right then. I didn’t want to look at that perfect skin, those big gray eyes, that soft curvy body. The woman was fucking with my head, with my body. I hated her, and wanted her underneath me. Wanted to dump her ass at her stepfather’s doorstep and never look back—while the clawing need to take her home with me and never let her out of my sight again was a twisted, painful grip inside my gut.

  Striding over, I undid her cuff, grabbed her arm and dragged her though the living room.

  “H-Hunter . . .” she stuttered.

  I pushed her through the open bathroom door, slammed it shut and locked it. Shoving my hands in my hair, I fought to get my shit together.

  Fought not to open that door and make her beg for my forgiveness.

  Not to throw her on her back and make her beg me to fuck her.

  Shit.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Lulu

  I hissed out a breath. “Shit.”

  Blood bubbled up under my fingernail, but I ignored it, carried on working on the small window above the toilet. Hunter hadn’t cuffed me this time. He also hadn’t searched me. I discovered the spare key for Sara’s house was good for more than opening doors. Whoever had decorated the small bathroom had painted the window shut. The paint was old and thick, coming off in sharp flakes, but the key was cutting through it easily. Only one side left and I should be able to pry it open.

  I hadn’t heard Hunter since he locked me back in here. But it was only a matter of time before he came back. I had to get away. Josh needed me.

  Panic rose up inside me again and I fought it back down. I needed to keep a clear head.

  Hunter hadn’t hurt me, though he’d had plenty of opportunity. I believed him when he said he’d let me go. And no matter what, I had no intention of going to the cops. Whatever this was, he was going easy on me, and we both knew it. I deserved a lot worse than being locked in a bathroom.

  But there was another threat. One I had no defense against. I could feel it building between us, breaking through the harsh words and the disgusted looks. It was volatile and fierce. So hot it had the ability to burn me alive. If he chose to act on it, not fight it like I knew he was, I wouldn’t be able to say no. I could never say no to him.

  I couldn’t let that happen, for my own sanity.

  If he touched me like that . . .

  I jammed the key into the dried paint, slicing and chipping at it. I couldn’t allow myself to think about that, or I might give up. I might put the key back in my pocket and do nothing. I might sit here and wait for him to come for me. I might let it happen. I squeezed my eyes closed.

  Shit.

  How did I become this, this weak, broken person? Hunter might hate me, but not as much as I hated myself.

  I don’t know how long it took, but I’d been in here all day—working on the window for half of that time at least. My fingers were cramping, but finally I’d removed enough of the paint around the sides to open it. Shoving the key in my pocket, I grabbed the latch and tested it. The thing barely moved. Gripping the latch with both hands, I pushed as hard as I could. It opened with a loud squeak. I paused, listening, holding my breath.

  Nothing.

  I went up on my tiptoes on the toilet seat, pulling the window open farther, and poked my head and shoulders through. It was dark outside, silent apart from the rustling leaves and the sound of insects chirping. I wriggled and dragged myself up to my waist. The intense darkness, the lack of sound that wasn’t bug or tree related, gave me pause. I didn’t know where I was, had no way of getting away. My only option was to go on foot and hope like hell I didn’t get lost, that another car came along so I could hitch a ride.

  Shoving down my fear, I pushed up farther, shimmying, working my butt though the small gap.

  A hand wrapped around my ankle. “Going somewhere?”

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  I stayed where I was, ass in the air, head dangling, afraid to move. He gave my leg a tug, and I kicked out in a last ditch effort to break free. The hand left my ankle and then two were at my hips, dragging me back in.

  “No! Let me go.” I fought his hold.

  It did me no good. I was pulled back inside, ass hitting the toilet seat a second later. Hunter reached up and shoved the window shut, then lifted me off the toilet and carried me into the living room, slamming the door shut behind him.

  I landed on the couch hard, head bouncing on the firm cushions. I stared up at him, but he ignored me, walked away to the kitchen, and came back with a bottle of water and two slices of pizza.

  “Eat.”

  He was pissed, so I kept my mouth shut and did what I was told. Plus, I was starving. I finished both pieces quickly and half the water. He grabbed my arm again and dragged me to my feet, but went past the bathroom door and toward a room at the back. “Where are we going?”

  “Bed.”

  “What do you mean, bed?”

  He didn’t answer and flicked on the bedroom light.

  The room was small. A double bed with a slatted headboard and a floral quilt sat in the middle, a dresser beside that. Nothing else. I wanted to run screaming from the room.

  “Lie down,” he barked.

  I did what I was told, without protest. Protesting would be pointless. I heard the chain when he lifted it, threaded through the baseboard. He wrapped it around my ankle, padlocking it into place. The chain wasn’t too thick, but it was cold and uncomfortable.

  “Now what?” I whispered.

  “Now I get some fucking sleep.”

  He yanked his T-shirt over his head, revealing all that beautiful inked skin. His jeans sat super low, a trail of dark hair leading my gaze even lower. God, I remembered kissing my way down that taut stomach, tracing those abs with my tongue. His chest was more defined, arms thicker. I’d never seen a man more beautifully made. He turned his back, and I traced every stunning inch of him with my hungry gaze. Across his shoulders and back, down to his narrow hips . . .

  I closed my eyes, blocking out the sight of my name inked into his skin. It hurt to look at it, to look at him. To look at what was once mine. What I’d been forced to give up. But Hunter wasn’t just a gorgeous body. When he let you in, like he had me, you were the luckiest girl in the whole damn world. I’d never get over it. Never get over him.

  The light flicked off, and a second later the mattress dipped. He didn’t touch me, kept to his side of the bed. He used to roll me into him, even if he was asleep. He’d pull me close, tangle his legs with mine, arm around my waist, hand going to my chest. Always.

  I rolled away, onto my side and listened to him breathing in the dark.

  How was I supposed to sleep with him right beside me?

  It wasn’t going to happen . . .

  I woke warm, deliciously warm, cocooned in heat. I made a contented sound in the back of my throat and snuggled deeper.

  Something warm tickled my ear, then the sound of steady, even breaths reached me through the dark.

  That’s when I snapped out of my sleep haze and remembered where I was.

  Hunter was pressed against my back. One of his thighs was wedged between mine, his arm draped over my waist, big hand cupping my breast, like he always used to.

  Oh shit.

  He was still asleep. I could tell by the way he was breathing.

  My body revved to life, full-on need humming through me from head to toe. I tried to move, to get some distance between us, but his fingers tightened, curling, digging into my now aching f
lesh. His knee lifted higher, pressing more firmly between my legs.

  I groaned. God, I couldn’t help it.

  That’s when he woke. His body stiffened, fingers flexing. I expected him to pull away, but he didn’t move, stayed right where he was.

  I blinked into the moonlit room, unable to move, to speak. Jesus, too afraid to breathe. My mind told me to shove him away, my body wanted to push back, seek more.

  He pressed his hips into me from behind. Oh fuck, he was hard. I shivered, desperate to squeeze my thighs together when a hot, insistent pulse began throbbing deep inside me. I was trying to work out what to say, what to do, when he released a shaky exhale, dropped a hand between my thighs and shoved my legs farther apart, cupping me firmly, possessively. He ground into my ass, and I internally combusted.

  This is wrong. Stop it. Now.

  I flung my hand back to shove him away, but the growl that vibrated through his chest, had my nipples tightening into hard peaks, and I found myself fisting his hair instead. I pulled on it hard, twisting my head, and yanked him down. As soon as that tempting lower lip was in range, I sucked it. He growled again, reaching up, fingers curling around my wrist, squeezing before pulling my hand away and shoving it onto the mattress. He took over the kiss, biting and sucking at my mouth, tongue thrusting against mine. He kissed me hard and urgent, almost painfully. Rough, hot, angry. He’d kissed me in a lot of ways during our two-year relationship, but never like this.

  God help me, I wanted more. I tried to roll toward him, but he tightened his hold on me, keeping me on my side, facing away from him. His free hand dropped to my waist and he yanked at my Hooters tank roughly, tugging it up over my head, flinging it aside. Then he was working on my shorts, shoving them and my panties down my legs. I kicked my unchained foot free, and he hooked my thigh over his. I reached back, grabbing his ass, digging my other foot into the mattress so I could grind back against him.

  His harsh breaths filled my head as his hand furiously worked between our bodies, tearing at the front of his jeans. I helped him shove them down past his ass, desperate to have him inside me.

  Then finally, our bodies were skin to skin. I moaned as his erection prodded against my ass, dragging through my ass cheeks, down to my slit.