Blackbird (Redemption 1)

Another pause. “No, he left for—”

I didn’t wait for him to explain. I hung up and yelled for the driver to turn around and go home. I searched for William’s cell number and had the phone back to my ear within seconds. My thumb and forefinger squeezed the bridge of my nose as I silently begged for him to pick up his phone.

“Hello?” a feminine voice answered.

“Who is this?” I demanded.

The woman chuckled. “Do not use that tone with me, Lucas. You do not scare me. I will find a wooden spoon, and we will see who is scared then.”

I blew out a ragged breath and smiled. It was William’s first. “Karina, is he there?”

“No, he’s at work. The old fool forgot his phone,” she said affectionately.

My body went rigid, but I bit back a curse. “Thank you, Karina, I’ll try him there.” As soon as I hung up, I barked, “Drive faster!”

I needed to get back to my blackbird—needed to get to her before he did. Because if he got there first . . .

I didn’t want to think about what might happen.

William alone with Briar would be some of my worst fears coming to life for so many reasons.

My mind raced as I thought about the girl in that room, and my chest tightened with dread as we drove far too slowly.

I shouldn’t have left her alone.

Should’ve never given William this opportunity.

Should’ve never let him trick me this way.

He’d been hounding me every day about how behind Briar was. As if I wasn’t already aware. I’d been worried that he would visit us in a couple weeks if she hadn’t made it out of that starter room.

I hadn’t expected this.

And after what had happened between us the other night, her hate for me was only going to grow . . . and I wouldn’t have anyone to blame but myself.

I never should have touched her that night . . .

As much as the thought of breaking her destroyed me, I knew it was something that had to be done. Just as there was a list of things I had to do when it came to Briar.

Pleasuring her wasn’t on that list.

But I should have known from those first minutes during the auction that it would’ve been inevitable.

My days of trying to ease her into getting comfortable weren’t working. And after the way she’d spoken to me before the women showed up to dye her hair, I knew I needed to teach her a lesson—one I still hadn’t been able to do.

So I’d taken her robes and anything else she could have covered herself with in a last-ditch effort, because I couldn’t continue to give her time.

Time that had run out long before.

The girls were expected to progress faster. She should have been out of that starter room by the end of her second week at the very latest.

But in trying to push her, I had become so enraptured in her perfect body and the longing in her eyes I hadn’t been able to stop myself from kissing the smooth skin of her throat. I hadn’t been able to stop from fisting my hand in her long hair, and then she’d moaned . . .

Those moans and whimpers had fueled my need for a girl I couldn’t have in the way she was making me want her.

The women weren’t allowed any type of pleasure from us for the first year. It made them want more, expect more, and then it made it harder for them to remember that what was between us was only a bond through ownership and not a relationship.

I had known that, but I hadn’t been able to stop. Hadn’t been able to stop from wanting to give her everything . . . only to be reminded how I’d already destroyed it all.