Wretched (Never After Series)

“Eveline.”

Brayden’s voice scrapes against my skin, and I speed up to try and outrun it. I’m almost to my car, and if I can just make it a couple more steps, I’m home free.

It’s the middle of the night, so no one else is here besides the boys in the basement, but I don’t want to hang around until they need me. I’m already at my limit for “peopling,” and I’m desperate for some solitude after the past few days of doing nothing except being around others.

“Wait up, Eveline,” Brayden says again.

Of course, he’s following me. When is he not following me? And what the hell was I thinking standing up for him that way? On top of that, I lied. Without a second thought, I said I’d been tailing him, which isn’t true. But it was either that or raise more questions about how I know, and I’ll never put Cody in their grubby, greedy hands.

I can’t say my morals are upstanding, but I am loyal to a fault if you deserve it. It’s just that most people don’t.

My fingers reach the driver’s side door of my car and I’m two seconds from making my escape when his hand grips my arm, spinning me around.

Great.

“What?” I hiss, shoving him in the chest.

He releases me, but he doesn’t retreat, choosing to stay in place and cage me in. “Just wanted to say thanks.”

I move my face to the side, needing to break away from the intensity of his stare. I’m not sure if it’s more potent tonight than normal or if it’s the aftereffects of being intimately acquainted with his dick, but either way, looking him in the eyes stirs up emotions I’d rather stay buried.

“Thank you not accepted. Can I go now?”

He presses in closer until his hips pin me entirely to the door. My stomach tenses, heat flaring between my legs.

“Did you really run a check on me?” he asks.

When he’s this close, it’s impossible to not smell the cinnamon and pine, and with every inhale, arousal digs its dirty claws into me further. It’s unwanted and does nothing except piss me off that I’m feeling it in the first place.

I lift a brow. “What do you think?”

His tongue swipes across his bottom lip. I track the movement, my pussy throbbing at the simple motion, remembering the way it felt when he was licking my clit.

“And you’re following me?” His brow lifts at this, like he doesn’t believe it.

“Can you really blame me?” I push my hands against his chest again.

He reaches up and grabs my wrists, pulling them so they’re locked in his grip and moves them until they’re pinned above my head. He leans in, skimming his nose up the side of my neck, making goose bumps spread down the length of my spine.

My eyes flutter closed.

“Now who’s the stalker?” he whispers.

“I hate you,” I rasp.

“Back at you, sweetheart. But clearly my dick doesn’t, because no matter how much of a bitch you are, or how many times I tell myself to stay the fuck away, this is always where I end up.”

He thrusts into me, and I bite my lip to keep from moaning at the feel of his thick cock pressing against me.

“Someone will see.” I twist my wrists in his hands, trying again to escape. The friction causes a burn to spread across my skin, and his hold tightens.

“And?” He assaults my neck, his tongue running along the expanse of my throat. My clit pulses, desperate for him to do it on my pussy instead of torturing me. “I bet you’d let me flip up your little skirt and pull down your panties right here, wouldn’t you?”

My legs tremble. “No.”

He licks my ear. “I could bend you over the hood of your car and slide my cock deep inside you, right where everyone could see.”

My head snaps back when he bites down just beneath my jaw, my skull cracking against the window.

“You’d be so ready for me, wouldn’t you, pretty girl? Your sweet pussy would suck me in and milk me dry, regardless of who might walk by.” One of his hands releases my wrists and moves to cup my throat, squeezing the smallest bit. “Would you still hate me then?” he continues. “When I’m filling up your needy little cunt with my cum, and you’re seeing stars from the pleasure?”

My breath hitches, my stomach somersaulting at his filthy words. At the images he creates in my head. It would feel so good having him pump inside me, making me clench around his dick while he groaned in my ear, not caring that we’re in the middle of a very public parking lot.

But regardless of what he does to me physically, it doesn’t mean I enjoy having him around. Or that it’s a good idea to indulge in what he offers.

I turn my head the tiniest bit and whisper, “I’d still hate you if you were the last person on Earth. And I wouldn’t fuck you again even if you had a knife to my throat. I’d choose death. Every time.”

His body freezes, his ministrations stopping.

“Now get the fuck off me,” I force out.

I push against his hold again, and this time he does let me go, his eyes void of any emotion at all.

He shakes his head. “Fine, you win. It’s not worth it. You’re not worth it.”

My chest cramps, but I let him walk away, because I don’t want him to stay.

Bricks are meant for paths, 

Yet somehow we’re always still. 

If there’s nothing for us in the now, 

Then I know there never will. 

You belong up here in the light, 

and me, in poppies down below. 

Maybe one day we’ll meet again, 

On the other side of a rainbow.

Laughter flows from the hallway and I snap my notebook closed on the kitchen island, just as Dorothy waltzes in with a bright smile pasted across her face.

Brayden follows close behind.

She doesn’t notice me, jabbering about something inconsequential, but Brayden’s eyes find mine immediately, as if we’re two ends of a magnet, drawn together by force.

The air grows thick and I grip the edge of the counter.

Dorothy stops speaking midsentence when she follows his gaze.

“Evie,” she says, smiling thinly.

“Where have you been?” I ask, tilting my head.

She’s never been heavily involved in the darker side of our dealings, our dad making sure she stays out of harm’s way, but she is usually around more than she has been lately.

“Busy,” she snips. “Some of us have things to do other than sit around all day and daydream in notebooks. Why? Suddenly starting to care?”

I shrug. “Just curious.”

But I do care, because more often than not these days, her being busy means our father sending her on errands I know nothing about. I make a mental note to keep closer tabs on her.

Brayden chuckles and I narrow my gaze at him. “Something funny, stalker?”

He runs a hand over his mouth, stifling his grin. “Just the thought of you caring about anything.”

I tilt my head, irritation surging up my throat and sitting heavy on my tongue. “I’d worry more about your proclivity for jumping from one toy to the next, and less about how much I care about my things.”

The second the words pass my lips, I know they’re a mistake, but it’s too late. I’ve let my emotions bleed into the moment.

Stupid.

His eyes darken.

“Wow. You two have really gotten more comfortable with each other since I’ve been gone,” Dorothy says, a hint of jealousy tingeing the edges of her voice.

“Don’t worry.” I smile. “He can still be your little lapdog, Dorothy. I’m not interested in training new bitches.”

He smirks, resting his elbows against the counter.

Dorothy lifts a perfectly manicured brow. “You need training, Brayden?”

“That depends,” he fires back. “If I make you a mess, will you rub my nose in it?”

She blushes so fiercely I’m amazed she doesn’t faint, and I roll my eyes, hating the way my chest tightens. “You’re disgusting.”

He laughs. “Yeah, sweetheart, it’s pretty clear you hate me. We get it.”

I pick up my notebook, holding it against my chest, and his eyes drop to it.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“Evie writes love spells. Isn’t that cute?” Dorothy giggles, covering her mouth with her hand.

His brows rise. “Oh? Looking for love, pretty girl?”

My heart stutters at his term of endearment—the one he only calls me when we’re alone—and Dorothy’s grin drops immediately, the energy in the room shifting into something more sinister.

I ignore the change.

“Maybe I’m looking for someone to curse instead. You volunteering?”

He hooks his thumbs in the pockets of his leather jacket and rocks back on his heels. “Maybe.”

“Ugh,” Dorothy groans loudly. “I’m bored. This is boring.” She turns to Brayden, whose gaze is searing into me so intensely, it feels as if he’s branding my soul. “Want to watch a movie?”

He finally drops our stare and looks to her, shifting on his feet and pawing the back of his neck. “I uh… can’t actually. I’ve been summoned by the wicked witch over here.” He tosses a thumb at me.

Normally, I would put up a fight, but the way envy swirls through Dorothy’s features has me biting my tongue. Besides, it’s true. I need him to go with me to check on someone.

“Sorry about your luck,” she says, scrunching up her nose. “Dad wants me to do something for him anyway. You know… business stuff.”

Irritation winds its way through my middle at the fact Dad has her doing something, again, and I don’t know what it is beforehand. Or maybe she’s lying just to get a rise out of me. With Dorothy, you can never be too sure.

“I tell you what,” Brayden says suddenly. “Once I’m done doing my obligations, I’ll come grab you for a late-night snack. You can tell me all about your day and your important ‘business.’”

Her face lights up and anger floods through me like a broken dam.

I close my eyes as the rage makes my hands shake, and I count back.

Ten, nine, eight…