Taken (Dark Legacy Duet 1)

I take her arm to look at her wrist. “Gregory?”

She doesn’t respond, but I know.

“When did he touch you?”

“You mean after you allowed him to last night? After you offered me to him last night? After you let him watch?”

I look at her, and I know I have to keep myself reined in. I see it all over her face. She’s barely holding it together.

“When, Helena?”

“This morning. After you left.”

“Did you provoke him?”

“Provoke him?” She pulls her arm back. “I didn’t. But even if I did, in your family, if a girl provokes one of you, she earns the bruises? They’re her fault?”

“What happened?”

“So, let me be sure I understand,” she continues. “By your logic, if a girl is walking on a street at night, is it her fault if she’s attacked? Or do these rules only apply to the unlucky Willow Girls?”

I draw in a long, slow breath and count to ten. “He has no right to touch you.”

“Of course, he does. You let him, remember? You invited him to touch me.”

“Last night was different.”

“Because you were putting me in my place. Not him. Is that it with you? Only you can punish me? Hurt me?”

“Be careful.”

“You like hurting me. You said so.”

She looks down, begins to pick at a cuticle. I see her forehead crease, and it takes her a minute to smooth it out again.

“I know you’re not my friend. I know you’re not my ally, even if you say you are, but even when you hurt me, I know you’re not really going to hurt me.” She gets up, puts her hand to her forehead, and crosses the room. “God, that’s dumb.” She turns to me, and the delicate skin around her eyes is red. “I guess I’m not as much a challenge as you thought, huh?” Her voice breaks, and she wipes tears from her eyes.

I go to her, take her wrists, pull her hands from her face. “Helena—”

She slaps my arms away, steps back. Her eyes are fierce through the tears. “Don’t you mean Willow Girl?”

I take hold of her arms, back her against the wall. She doesn’t fight me.

“I think the hardest part is that I don’t understand why some stupid part of me keeps thinking or hoping you’ll save me even when I know you won’t,” she says.

She’s coming apart, and all I can do is watch her. Stand there, mute, watching her. Because what can I tell her?

“You like this, right? When I cry?” she continues.

“Not like this.” I touch her face, take it into my hands. I feel like I’m always wiping tears from her eyes. I lean in and kiss her, holding her, just kissing her, trying to pull her to me.

She makes a sound, tries to push away, but I kiss her harder.

“Stop,” she says when I draw back, when I undo the top buttons of her dress, and pull it over her head. “Stop.” She pushes me away.

“Shh, let me take care of you, Helena.”

She shakes her head, but it’s a weak effort. When I reach behind her to unhook her bra, her fight is halfhearted.

“It’s like you said,” she says when I pull the straps off her arms and stand back to look at her. “My body wants it. You were right. You keep winning. You keep collecting the notches.”

“No notches.” I take her face in my hands again, tilt it up, and make her look at me. “Not tonight. Not here, okay?”

I kiss her again, then lift her in my arms, lay her on the bed, and drag her panties from her before stripping off my own clothes. Keeping most of my weight on my forearms, I slide into her, watching her feel me, so close to her that it’s not possible to get closer.

She opens her mouth a little wider, and her breath hitches as I stretch her.

“Fuck, Helena. You feel so good. So fucking good.”

I’ve only fucked her up until now, but this, being inside her now, warm and tight and safe, it’s different. It’s slow and deep and as close to making love as I have ever or will ever get.

I’ve never made love before. I’ve never wanted to. I’ve never wanted to be that close to anyone. But right now, with her like this, vulnerable and breaking a little, fracturing before my eyes, I want to make love to her.

“Sebastian—”

“Shh. Just you and me. Here. Now. No Willow daughter. No Scafoni son. Just you and me.”

She stares up at me. I kiss her mouth again. She’s so soft and so sweet when she’s not fighting me. I know she wants this too. I know she wants it like this, who we are erased. The past absent. Just us.

I kiss her cheek, her jaw, her throat, that delicate hollow between her collarbones. Her hands are on me, on my shoulders, then in my hair. Her legs wrap around my hips when I bring my face to hers, watching her as I fuck her deep and slow. She’s wet and tight and fuck, I love being inside her.