Forbidden (Blood Ties Book 7)

Fear moved through me as he turned and strode from the room. Real fear, not the fleeting feeling I’d had while I’d fought for my life. No, this was…deeper than that. This was dangerous.

I’LL FUCKING KILL YOUU!

Those words still lingered in the air.

But who had he been talking to?

I tried to piece it all together.

Yes, I’m a team player.

But whose team was he playing on? Hale’s, that I knew. But this wasn’t him, was it? So, was there someone else in charge? I tried to think. Not Macoy Daniels, thanks to London, or Ophelia, thanks to his damn son. So, who then? Who was taking over and forcing Riven Cruz to his damn knees…I tried to think, but there was no answer.

Not yet, at least.

His heavy steps resounded over and over. He was out there pacing, thinking…and planning. That made him vulnerable…and me. I jerked my gaze toward the doorway as those steps grew louder. When he stepped back into the room, he didn’t look at me, not at first.

“Shower,” he snarled, lifting those unflinching eyes to mine. “And don’t fight me.”

I pushed my hands against the floor and slowly rose. My sisters. Remember my sisters. I clung to the memory of their faces as I lifted my hands. “The cuffs,” I said carefully. “I can’t very well wash with them on, can I?”

The twitch came from the corner of his eye.

He didn’t trust me. If I was going to survive this, I needed to change that. “Please.” The word was a whisper, but he heard.

His eyes widened. His chest rose. Maybe a little harder than I’d seen before. He likes it when I beg. That aching tension surged inside me at the thought.

He stepped forward, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a set of keys, finding the small cuff key.

“Cruz.” I watched his face as he pushed the key into the locks one at a time. “That’s your last name, right? May as well tell me your first. We’re already in this deep, aren’t we? What’s a little deeper?”

I tried to make him a little more comfortable, playing to his needs as the cuffs fell free and he tossed them to the bed.

“Riven,” he answered, meeting my stare.

“Riven,” I repeated, praying to God I sounded like I didn’t know a damn thing about this man already…and his two brothers.

He watched me carefully, then gave a jerk of his head toward the bathroom. I moved without so much as a whisper, limping a little as I headed inside. He was going to watch me. I knew that. Still, I couldn’t seem to push that out of my head as I fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. The weight of his stare sent a shiver through me as I shrugged out of the sleeves and let the damn thing fall.

I didn’t look back, just stepped into the shower and reached for the faucet, switched on the spray, and waited for the hot water. A shiver took hold, pebbling my skin and my damn nipples. I crossed my arms, relieved when the faint steam rose before I stepped in.

Turn around. Make him look at you. You need him, remember?

That nagging voice again, and I wanted to strangle it.

But it was right. No matter how terrified I was.

I needed him.

And this was the only way.

I eased my head backwards under the warmth and turned around, meeting that ravenous gaze. He never looked away, seizing my stare, then slowly looked down. My pulse was booming as he found the scars on my breasts, then the wound at my side, the one that made me look like I’d been chewed up and spat out.

I had.

If only he knew how.

The bomb that had torn apart the Order had been rushed and sloppy. The call from my father, being held captive in those walls, had set me on a downward spiral. It had made me reckless…and mistakes had happened, one of which I was still healing from. He stared at that wound, no doubt trying to work out what exactly had happened.

My mind raced, trying to create the lie. A car accident? A gas explosion? An innocent bystander in a car bombing? What one would he believe?

None of them.

My hand slowed, trailing the soap in my hands along my stomach and lower. He wouldn’t believe a thing I said. That’s why he wouldn’t ask and I needed him not to. I continued the slide, slipping my hand between my thighs.

The muscles of his throat flexed as he swallowed. My cheeks burned as I reached up and grabbed the shampoo from the shelf. One good squeeze and I lathered and rinsed my hair before I conditioned it. He watched my every move, searching my eyes more than my body.

Those eyes.

Those hard as steel eyes bored into mine, desperate to peel layer after layer from me.

I looked away, breaking the connection. My pulse was thready and panicked, forcing me to turn and switch off the water. I squeezed my hair, leaving it to slowly drip down my shoulders as I stepped out.

He never made a move to hand me a towel, only stood in the way as I glanced at the neat pile of towels folded at the edge of the vanity. I had no choice but to lean around and press my body against him as I snagged one from the top and yanked it free.

Bastard.

My cheeks burned as I lurched backwards. I swiped the towel down my body and under my arms before drying my hair and wrapping it around my head. He turned around, grabbed another, and advanced.

Panic pushed in, forcing me backwards. “What are you doing?”

He knelt and dropped to one knee as he slid the towel along my legs, catching the trail of water without saying a word. I froze, looking down at him. He took his time, rubbing the plush cotton over the grazes of the accident, then the scars between my thighs and softly dabbed the mess at my side.

“This looks infected,” he murmured.

“I…I ran out of antibiotics.”

He gave a humph, then rose and placed the towel on the vanity before opening the mirrored cabinet and pulling out a small container.

“What’s that?”

He turned around. “Antiseptic powder. Military grade. Don’t worry, I’m not about to inject you again.” Why not? He’d done it before. I’d be more compliant that way. He knew that. So what’d changed? What in the last few hours had changed that he’d not only decide I was better conscious but that I was…taken care of. I flinched, wrestling with the only possible reason, my cheeks burning as I muttered. “I wouldn’t put anything past you.”

He just hinted a smile. “Smart girl.” Then he unscrewed the top and stepped closer. “Now, don’t move.”

I wanted to do anything but stand there while he came closer. But his hands were careful, gentle almost, as they pressed against the top of the wound and squirted the powder between the weeping edges.

I hissed at the sting before grinding my teeth and swallowing the pain.

He straightened instantly, then reached up to tug the towel from my head and fisted my wet hair. “You want to moan? Then moan. Don’t hold it in for me.”

That vicious hold yanked my head backwards. Anger roared, stealing away the bite of pain. “I don’t want to moan,” I forced through clenched teeth.

He searched my eyes, my spine bowing under his brutal strength. But as I held that stare, I didn’t see cruelty, not like I’d seen before. No…there was something else. Some flicker of sadness hit me in the chest, and he knew it.

He might still be a monster.

But he was in pain.

Deep, soul-wounding pain.

Who the fuck are you?

He opened his mouth to speak, his breaths coming hard and fast, until he snapped back to reality, let my hair go, and stepped away. “Don’t move.” He turned, placed the powder on the counter, and yanked off his shirt.

Where the fuck was I going to run to?

I stared at his hard chest as he dropped his t-shirt to the floor and unbuckled his belt. I looked away at the sound of his zipper. Still, I saw enough in the corner of my eye to draw my eyes back to him.

His body was lean and muscular, flexing as he stepped into the shower and hit the faucets before he turned. He never looked away as my gaze lowered, taking in his strong chest and the soft ridges of his stomach before I froze.

Blood hummed in my veins, thudding in my chest as I stared at his cock. It was flaccid, but still it slapped the inside of his thigh. Jesus, if he was that big now…he would be fucking massive hard. He grabbed the soap and ran it over his chest and under his arms before reaching between his legs.

He didn’t just wash, he stroked, sliding his hand under his balls, then along the length of his cock. My cheeks burned and my mouth was dry, breathtakingly aware of his unmerciful stare.

The dark hairs on his abdomen stuck against his skin as he tilted his head back and let the water run down his throat and chest. My brain wouldn’t focus. I was stuck, not in fight or flight…but in infatuation, in that rush that hit me right between my thighs.

This was wrong.

Especially with him.

The man who’d drugged and raped me.

The man who’d had his head between my thighs.

I moaned, turning my head away as that desperate, sick sound escaped.

He switched off the water and stepped out, watching me as he grabbed the same towel he’d used to dry my legs and ran it over his body. “I like that sound from you, Helene,” he muttered as he dried. “I hope to hear more of it.”

“Fuck you,” I whispered, without a hint of rage.

He smiled, dropped the towel to the floor, and closed the distance. “That’s very much the plan.”

I flinched, jerking my gaze to his. Anger rose to engulf my cheeks, but he didn’t linger long enough to see, just strode into the bedroom and yanked open a drawer.

“Clothes.” He tossed a pair of black boxers onto the bed, followed by a black t-shirt.

I approached hesitantly, then reached out, grabbed the shorts, and pulled them on. The t-shirt was next, slipped over my head. But the moment I’d tugged it down, he grabbed my arm and yanked me forward.

Snap.

One of the cuffs closed around my wrist. The bastard almost smirked when he closed the other around his own. “Just in case you get any ideas.”

“What the fuck?” I yanked my hand until the steel clanked tight.

He glanced toward the bed. “I’m tired and I’m sure you are, too.”

“Oh, no…there’s no fucking way in hell I’m sharing a bed with you.”

He gave a shrug. “Suit yourself.” Then he strode to the bedside, jerking me forward as he tugged down the bedding. He was stronger and taller than me, forcing my body to go exactly where he wanted it to as he dropped to the bed and slid toward the middle.

My arm yanked forward, stretched out across the clean sheets.

That motherfucker…

That—

“Lights,” he commanded.

And the room plunged into darkness.

Leaving me to stumble, fall…and land right beside him.

I hit the mattress, then scooted toward the edge…as far as I could away from him.

This wasn’t happening.

This was so not—

I swore I heard him chuckle as he leaned forward, pressed his naked body against mine, and wrapped an arm around my waist. “Sleep, Trouble. I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”