Page 41 of Ruthless Rebel

I’m not sure there is an etiquette to tell someone what I need to tell Logan, so I decide the best course of action is to just come out and say it.

“I’ve killed people.”

Logan stops in his tracks, his chest deflating with an exhale. “This is about the war?” He asks, moving towards me and dropping to his knees at my feet. “Lincoln, none of us escaped that shit unscathed, but that’s in the past, we just have to try and forget and move forward.”

Being surrounded by so much darkness my whole life means I sometimes forget what it’s like to bathe in the sun. To have someone’s light shine on your entire being until you almost feel like you could step out of the shadows. That’s what being with him is like. He’s a perfect sunrise on a summer day, erasing the blackness of the night, but no matter how hard he tries, I will always be left behind in the dusk.

“No, you don’t understand,” I start, ignoring the crashing of my heart against my ribs at the thought of revealing my true self to him. “I didn’t just kill my father, that was only the start, and everything with Elle and the Donovans was just an excuse.” Sweat is slick on my palms as I look down at him, waiting with bated breath for me to say something that he can somehow fix, but you can’t fix something that was always meant to be broken. “Logan, I’ve killed so many people that I’ve lost count, and I’ve enjoyed every single minute of it. I find them, stalk them, and then kill them. Every single week since last year, I’ve gone out and hunted down someone new and took their life.”

The silence is deafening, as Logan digests each of my words and says absolutely nothing in response, before he simply stands up and walks out.

20

ASHER

Alcohol courses through my veins, giving me a dull buzz, perfect to ignore the tension I have been trying to avoid all day. I felt Lincoln and Logan’s stares on me every single time I was near them, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I may have used my daughter as a human shield against them at any given opportunity. Which worked for the majority of the day, but now here I sit, trying to enjoy Marcus’ last night of freedom as Jace so eloquently put it, but one of the reasons for said tension is practically pressed right up against my left side.

Lincoln sits stoically, drinking as quietly as I am, as we watch the rest of the guys let off steam and have fun. Logan, of course, put himself in charge of this whole thing, which is I’m sure how we find ourselves surrounded by professional dancers on podiums, putting on a show that only he and some of the security team seem to be enjoying. Marcus has his face buried in his phone, no doubt trying to talk Elle out of the whole not seeing him until the wedding tomorrow thing, and Jace is talking to Riley’s dad about what they are buying the girls for Christmas. Zack and Max are huddled together on another table talking quietly to one another, while the couple of other guys here are focusedon the dancers.

We’ve been here a couple of hours now, after having shared a guys dinner, and then following Logan’s lead to this private party room, yet none of that explains whatever is going on between him and Lincoln. They didn’t sit together at dinner, and have barely said two words to each other all night, and I know I’m not the only one who has noticed. Jace has been sharing worried looks with his brother since he noticed them apart at dinner, and I can’t help but feel like it is somehow my fault.

Last night never should have happened, no matter how it made me feel, and now I fear we might not ever be able to come back from it. Not that we had much of a relationship to begin with, I considered them friends at best. I mean, yes, they are part of my family, but I have always been sure to try and keep them at arm's length, and clearly it was for good reason.

Yet none of that explains why Logan is dancing with his shirt half-open with four of the women pawing at him like he is a piece of meat. Again, the whole thing hasn’t gone unnoticed by everyone else, and I note both Zack and Jace’s worried glances towards Lincoln, who remains unfazed at my side.

Knowing that no one can hear us over the music I can’t help but ask, “I thought you guys were exclusive?” I think it’s a valid question, because even I am finding it hard to stomach, watching Logan letting himself go like this. I mean, sure he has always been outgoing and flirty, but never to this extent, and not since the moment he got more serious with Lincoln.

“Apart from you, we are,” Lincoln grits out, clearly as uncomfortable as I am, and I can’t blame him, but my heart snags on those first three words he just said.Apart from you.

He says those three words so casually, like they don’t tilt my whole world as I know it on its axis. I have to take a slow deep breath to calm my now racing heart before I push out, “So what the hell is he doing?”

Lincoln takes a slow pull from his beer before he mutters, “Trying to forget who he belongs to.” Then he pulls his eyes away from Logan and pierces me with that intense stare of his. “What about you?”

I finally shift my gaze from the display Logan is putting on, and meet his eyes with my own in complete confusion. “What about me?”

“Which one are you staring at so hard?” He asks, nodding his head back towards Logan and the horde of women surrounding him, and I almost choke on my own breath.

“I’m not staring at anyone,” I grit out, glancing at the others near us to make sure they can’t hear us, before focusing back on him and his now insufferable smirk.

“It’s okay to let yourself want something, Dark Prince, giving in to your desires isn’t the end of the world,” he purrs, his voice taking on that same inviting edge as last night, and I feel my entire body come alive beneath his words.Fuck. This is why I avoided him all day, because I can’t do this with him.

I can’t give in to the temptation he brings me, because for the first time in years I find myself wanting something just for myself. Not for the sake of my daughter or Elle, or for the demands of my family, just something I can call completely and utterly my own.

“I need a drink,” I snap, standing abruptly and pushing between him and the table, heading to the private bar in the corner.

There are no wait staff here, just a fully stocked bar to help ourselves, just the way we wanted it, less people to vet through security and all that. Though, I have no doubt that Lincoln and Zack have ensured everyone on the island is clear already, but still. We learned the hard way that you can never be too careful.

Of course Lincoln follows me, sliding himself into the spot next to me as I pour myself another drink. “Are we going to talk about last night?” He asks, that smirk still in fucking place, and fuck do I want to wipe it off.

“There is nothing to talk about, Blackwell, it isn’t the first time I got hard in a situation like that and did what I had to do,” I force myself to say, knocking back the drink I just poured and moving to make another, but he snatches my arm before I can, turning me roughly towards him.

“What the hell did you just say to me?” He snaps, glaring at me with nothing but a dark rage in his eyes. “Don’t fucking compare what happened between us last night to the fucking bullshit you were forced to do while you were still a child,” he seethes, digging his fingers into my forearm, the pain a welcome distraction from his words.

“Please don’t treat me like some sort of victim, I was hard for them Lincoln,” I say slowly by way of explanation, not sure what part of this is tripping him up. Yes I didn’t exactly want to fuck all those women, but I could have said no, I could have stopped it.Couldn’t I?

“Don’t give me that fucking bullshit, Asher, that was just your body reacting to the situation it was forced into, that doesn’t equal fucking consent.” He is angrier than I have ever seen him, and this time it’s all for me, something I am not sure what to do with, especially when he presses me into the bar, not caring that we are still in view of everyone else. “Think about it, Asher, really think about it, did you want to fuck them?”

“No,” I reply instantly, swallowing the sick feeling in my throat that threatens to overtake me anytime I think about what I did.

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