It was all a fucking lie.
Just like it was probably a lie that my mother had been mentally ill. An omission of the truth. Over the years, I thought long and hard about my mother and her behavior. I was so young when she left that it was hard to grasp onto what was real and what had been fed to me from such an early age, but if my mother had gone through what Richard had put me through (was currently putting me through) maybe he was the reason for her illness—if there ever was one to begin with. Maybe he broke her so deeply that she couldn't remember how to put herself back together.
Trepidation started to creep over my shoulder as the thoughts began pulling me under. My mind was trying to remember her laugh or the song she used to sing to me and Tobias, but I was quickly ripped away from the memory when a hand landed on my arm.
“You okay?” Isaiah’s other hand found my chin, and I blinked rapidly, focusing on his thick eyelashes and stern gaze. “Where did you just go?”
“Um…” A shaky breath left my lips. “Nowhere. I’m here.”
He shook his head once, and a dark tendril of hair fell over his forehead. His brows knitted. “I thought you said you trusted me.” I said nothing, and I was pretty sure he was waiting for me to say something. Anything. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. “I know you’re running from him, Gem. But why?”
Another rap on the door sounded, and I jumped. “Isaiah.” Cade’s voice was less playful and more urgent. “If you want to follow him, you better go now.”
“Bain?” I asked as Isaiah’s hand fell to mine, and he began pulling me beside him.
Just before he opened the door, he shot me a wicked grin. “Wanna go on a field trip?”
“As in leave the school grounds?”
“Mmhm.” He swung the door open, and Cade locked eyes with him before he glanced over at me.
“And what if we get caught? Who’s going to be your alibi when your alibi is right there beside you?”
He shrugged once, looking his usual cool, calm, and collected self before that dimple appeared on his cheek. “We better not get caught then, huh?”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Isaiah
Silence stretched all around us as Gemma placed her shaky hand in mine. My fingers collided with hers as she walked beside Cade and me through the darkness of the party.
I whispered into her ear, “Stay quiet. I don’t want people to know we’re dipping out early.”
“Early from the party?” Her voice was hardly audible.
I straightened my back as Cade answered, “The Claiming.”
Sounds of kissing and soft moans came into contact with the three of us as we swiftly made a beeline for the exit. I knew my way around this basement even with the blanket of darkness that surrounded us. My hand reached out as I touched one pillar, then another one, and then one more before I knew we were exactly three yards from the door.
Skin slapping against skin and a flirty giggle came from the left, and Gemma’s light gasp filtered out into the heated air. It smelled of sex and alcohol, just like any other claiming, but it was new to her.
Everything was.
A throb settled deep inside my tight core as I let myself picture what was underneath her skirt. She was wet. I could feel her pressed up against me. I had the sudden urge to pull her back into that room and shut Cade out to spread her legs and taste her perfect little pussy.
What an obsessive, wildly hot thought.
Fuck, what was it with her? Gemma had awoken something inside of me, like an unbinding of my most secret desires. A sense of protectiveness and possession came over me the second my hands touched her, and it was a dangerous thing.
It was risky bringing her with me right now.
I knew that.
Cade knew that.
Mixing business with pleasure was likely going to fuck me over in the end, but here I was, shoving her through the door and pulling her along the musty, damp underground hallway made of wet stone and cobwebs.
“You’re bringing her with you?” Cade asked, hinting at disappointment.