Chained Hands (Chained Hearts Duet 1)

“You were coming to meet me?” he asks.

“So I thought.”

“Why?” he pushes.

“Because I know how you are. If I didn’t go, you would have just shown up at my apartment again and made a whole pile of noise,” I say and look away from him.

His face isn’t the hard sculpture it usually is. It’s softer. I haven’t seen this part of him before.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says. Words fail me. “You’ll never have to deal with her again.”

“Good. I won’t have to deal with you either. I’m moving.”

Keir steps closer to the bed, his hands coming to the railing beside me, which he promptly drops down. “You can’t leave me, I just found you,” he says, smirking.

“Don’t look for me, Keir. This life you live, I want no part of it.”

“Let me lie next to you,” he asks, pulling his jacket off.

It has blood all over it.

My blood.

“There is a chair over there.” I point to the corner with my good hand.

“But there is only one bed.” He grins. “We can both fit, and I don’t plan on leaving. So we both may as well get some sleep.”

“Jump off a cliff and die,” I bite back.

“After some sleep, I’ll consider it.” He lifts the sheets and slides on in regardless of what I say. I have to move just a little, and I reluctantly do it. “Do you think, if we met under different circumstances, we could have been different?” he asks, his hand sliding under my pillow as he gently pulls me closer to him.

“How so?” I entertain him. The funny thing is, there is a big part of me that hates him with every fiber of my being, but there’s also a part that relishes in every touch he gives me, every glance that I know is just for me. Something in my chest aches at how such a cold, calculating, and powerful man can give me black butterflies. Not colored ones, because he is anything but colorful.

It’s part of the reason that he’s lying in this bed next to me after everything I’ve been through because of him.

It’s those black butterflies, I tell you.

And those chained hands, that never seem to break, no matter how hard I try to pull away from him when he is around.

We get told of fairy tales, of Prince Charming, but what about the devils that live below? Do they not need love too? Obviously, they want it, and mine is proving that he’s going to do everything in his power to keep it.

If it’s even love between us.

We haven’t said those words, and I don’t take them lightly after Dillan. Can you love and hate someone at the same time?

“I believe if I met you when I was younger, we wouldn’t be here,” he says.

“Where would we be?” I ask.

“Anywhere but here,” he whispers, holding me tighter.

Keir leans in and kisses the top of my head before he lifts my chin and places his lips to mine. How can he want to kiss right now? And why am I not pushing him away? I hate that I love his touch. It’s unlike all other touches before him.

It’s tender, but he also knows how to punish.

Tonight, he is tender.

His fingers gently caress my cheek as I kiss him back. What’s wrong with me? It must be the drugs I’m on. I am fricking hallucinating on all the damn drugs.

That has to be the answer.

Pulling back, I break the kiss. “My mouth is sore.”

Keir eyes me, then nods and pulls me in before he kisses the top of my head and switches the television on. I relax into his embrace and fall asleep on his chest.

I hate to admit it, but it’s one of the best sleeps I’ve had in a long time.

Yeah, it’s probably the drugs.

Someone is speaking in a hushed tone. As I open my eyes, I see Joey whispering to Keir. They both notice I’m awake and go silent.

Rubbing my eyes and removing myself from his shoulder, I sit up. “What’s going on?”

“Your parents are here,” Joey responds.

I look to Keir. “You called my parents?” I ask him. He nods and Joey just shrugs. “Oh, my god, get out of the bed.” I try to push him, but I only have one working hand, so it does fuck all. He chuckles at my attempt before he leans in and kisses my head again, then goes to remove himself from the bed. But before he can get out completely, the door opens and my parents walk in, their faces masks of shocked horror.

“You’re still associating with him! After everything?” my mother shrieks, shaking her head.

“In her defense, he’s hard to get rid of,” Joey says unhelpfully.

My parents gawk at him, and he offers them a smile.

“Please leave,” I say, more to Keir, and he nods, grabbing his jacket before he and Joey head for the door.