Page 4 of Chained

She doesn't need to say it out loud, because of course I already know. She'll run off like the spoiled brat she is, and go tattle to her brother. Which will only end in three possible outcomes: broken teeth, broken limbs, or death. I laugh spitefully and pull a shirt over my head, moving just enough to stay out of her reach. "Your threats are boring, Melina."

She pouts like a child. "Then let's stop all this mind-numbingly boring pretence, and get back into bed." She's insistent now, her brows fused together in a scowl as she comes closer once again. Her hands find the waistband of my boxers, inviting herself to touch. "I haven't had my fill, Ace. I want you inside me. I want to feel the way your body shudders beneath mine as you come. I want it all."

"And I want you to get the fuck out of my room." There's no point running from her; she's relentless. She slips closer until her chest is pressed against mine, her eyes looking up at me as she wraps her arms around my waist, her teeth grazing her bottom lip.

"Make me."

Don't do it, Jax. Don't fall into her trap. The voice in my head begs, pleads, but I can't stop it. I can't control the anger burning inside my chest, threatening to set me alight. My hand lunges out, instantly finding her throat, clenching my fingers hard around it as I push her against the wall. Her hand instinctively moves to my wrist, nails digging in deep, but she isn't scared.

No. It turns her on, and even worse, my cock is throbbing. And that's when I feel it. The need for release that only she can bring, what she's always given me. I want her—no matter how much I burn inside whenever her skin touches mine—fuck, I want her.

"Harder, Ace. I know that's what you want, so do it," she whispers through shallow breaths, her eyes lit up in delight. I watch as her other hand moves down her body, cupping her breasts and squeezing her nipples, before continuing down over her stomach until she reaches between her thighs. "I love it when you touch me like this. When you mark my body with fingerprints, leaving small reminders of your touch." Her moans send a shudder through me, her pulse beating against my thumb, sending waves of pleasure to the pit of my stomach. I could end her. Right here, right now. Watch her hands go limp at her sides and the colour drain from her face. The more I think of it, the harder I get. My eyes shift to her hand as she rubs slow circles against her clit, her moans strangled as she gets closer to an orgasm. I bite down hard, teeth grinding together as I squeeze a little tighter. Her eyes widen, and for the shortest second, I see a flicker of fear as she begins to wonder if I'll let her go.

"Just give in," she says through a much-needed breath. "Take what's yours."

I'm so fucking close to spinning her around and sliding my cock deep inside her. To fuck her raw and claim what's always been mine—but I stop. This is what she wants. In one breath, she says she belongs to me, that she's mine to take. But I know that whilst we're in these walls, caged by her brother, I'll always be the one who is owned.

I lean in close, breath acidic as I stop just before her lips. "Get out of my fucking room."

I loosen my grip, just enough for her to drop to her feet. She recovers quickly with a smile that screams triumph. "You didn't have to stop, I was enjoying myself."

I turn and grab her nightdress from the floor, shoving it against her chest before gripping hard around her arm, my fingers digging in as I drag her to the door. I have to get her out, now. Before she takes another part of me I don't want to give.

"Don't come back," I spit at her, pulling the door roughly as she stands with a pout.

"You're such a tease," she says as I push her through the threshold.

"Go fuck yourself."

"I prefer when you fuck me," she taunts me with a grin. But behind the dark glint in her eye, I see the pain from my rejection. She can hide it from the world, but she can't hide it from me. She never could.

I take a deep breath, leaning against the wood. Don't feel guilty. She deserves this, the voice in my head says calmly, but it doesn't matter how much I try to convince myself. The same sinking feeling in my stomach comes as I think of her behind the wood door. I try to reject her, to stay away and throw myself into training or drinking, but then I always find my way back between her legs whenever the nightmares get too much. Don't feel guilty, Jax. Don't do it to yourself. She doesn't deserve it.

I grab my sweats with a sigh, my skin crawling the same way it always does after her visits. If it hadn't been for Adrian and Jarrod, I'd have left this place years ago. Gone into hiding until I was eventually caught. But I couldn't leave them behind; they were my brothers, and fuck knows how Jarrod would survive this place without me.

My phone lights up in the darkness as I check the time. 4:00 a.m. Perfect time to go smash my fists into a punch bag; anything to get rid of the remnants of her and her words. Moving quickly through the quiet halls of the manor, I give a silent nod to the occasional guard I see lurking around who has never gave a fuck about where I go or what I do—not like Vincent, who would have a personal tracker sewn beneath my skin if he could. I keep walking, hands tucked in my pockets until I finally reach the main lobby. Adrian storms through the front doors, dragging mud in from the cold. He looks tired—fuck, he looks old. I frown as his eyes catch mine, dark bags framing his sockets as he gives me a sleepy smile. Jesus, Adrian. Go to bed already, I think. The man never rests. I don't think he even knows the meaning.

Archie used to tell him that I needed discipline, and after the first time I broke Vincent's nose at ten years old, he shoved me at his feet and told him to stop babying me. That was the first time I ever got a real beating. Damn, I can still feel the bruised ribs, even now.

He shrugs off his battered jacket and slings it over a hook, running a hand over his face and pausing to scratch at his stubble.

"You're up late," he says as he turns to me, his eyes unmoving.

I shift my weight, rolling my sore shoulder and feeling the muscle pull. I'm a hypocrite; I don't rest, either. Maybe it's learned behaviour or my fear of what waits in the dark corners of my fucked up brain. I don't know.

"Yeah, can't sleep. Thought I'd try an hour of training."

I lie through my teeth and pray to God he doesn't recognise the way my voice went higher in pitch.

"Can't sleep, or had a reason not to sleep?" He lets out a small, tired laugh, his head shaking in disappointment.

Fuck.

"I think we both know the answer to that." My hands are restless; I crack my knuckles, trying to avoid his gaze. Adrian was one of the first to ever know about me and Melina—he caught us in the rose gardens one night with my tongue down her throat when we were fifteen, and since then, it's been lecture after lecture. And I have no doubt one is about to come quicker than I can get out of his way.

Adrian's lips twitch, something between a smile and a grimace. "You never learn, boy. You've spent years messing with that girl." He glances around, lowering his voice even though we're alone. "And if Vincent finds out again, you know what'll happen."

His words hit a nerve, and I can't bite back the venom that burns along my tongue.