Page 22 of Tyrant

“We have a lawyer friend who can file the necessary paperwork. Once that’s taken care of, we can either fight for custody or I can go in with a few guys and take her. You’ll wakeup one morning and she’ll be in bed beside you. It’s up to you how you wanna handle it.”

“Why on earth would you do that for me?”

“Because, Sugar. You’re my wife.”

“I’m already married.”

“Yeah, and? I got a marriage license saying you’re mine. You’ll divorce him and stay married to me. How’d that happen anyway? It should’ve been against the law.”

“My guess is Josef and I were married in the spiritual way and he never filed for the license. It would make sense; they don’t like leaving a trail of any sort of paperwork.”

“See, I knew you belonged to me. He doesn’t get to have you. I’ll get your girl back, then she’ll become mine too.”

Chapter 13

Blair

Tyrant says it with such finality it partially terrifies me, as it should. Did I just leave one dictating control freak and now I’ve met another?

No, Tyrant is different. I can feel it in my soul. He wants me on a baser level, the way a man desires to possess a woman, not in a controlling cult sort of way. It’s hard to explain, but one is about power over another person, while the other is about needing another so badly you offer them your power, no matter if you’re the stronger one in the relationship or not. You allow them the means to completely destroy you if they wanted.

Tyrant is giving mehispower. He’s saying, “Wield me however you need, and I will do it, no matter the consequences, because you are mine, and I will do anything to show it.” Josef, on the other hand, wants to control me and take my power. Make me give him everything and blindly follow him while he abuses and neglects.

But most of all…Tyrant is offering me the one thing I want the most. My daughter.

“I can see why they call you Tyrant.”

He smirks, appearing devilishly handsome, as he always does. His dimple pops out from the tilt of his lips and I find myself going a bit goo-goo over it. “Cute,”he grumbles. “Yes, I’m a bit of a fucking Tyrant, so what?”

I shrug, feeling a touch lighter than I have in a very long time. It was cathartic getting everything off my chest to someone else, let alone him saying they have a lawyer who can help and he’ll protect me while we file everything. I thought I wanted to kiss him before, but it’s nowhere near the urge I have in this moment. “Just saying, maybe if you want a different name, don’t own up to this one.”

He quietly chuckles. “Nah, Sugar. I am who I am. However, if it makes you more comfortable, you can call me Chris.”

“I like that name.”

“Christopher Knight,” he states, like I haven’t already memorized it from the moment I read it on our marriage license. “Which makes you Blair Knight.” He grabs my arm and pullsme to him once again. His finger moves under my chin, tipping my face up. I’ve finally stopped crying. “How about you go make yourself comfortable in my bathroom? Take a hot shower and then find something of mine you can wear if you want. My hoodies and boxers would swallow you up enough you could chill in them if you want. Then tell me what you’re hungry for so we can have it for dinner.”

“That’s it? You want to have dinner with me? I figured if you help me, you’ll want sex.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely want sex with you. You have the best goddamn pussy I’ve ever had wrapped around my cock before. But your comfort is important to me. I’m a real man, I can wait a few hours while you get in some much-deserved self-care.”

“Why are you so thoughtful? So kind to me? I don’t understand it.”

He shrugs. “I haven’t the faintest fucking idea if I’m being real with you. I wasn’t planning on getting married or shacking up with a chick, but the thought of letting you go right now makes me want to break shit. So, it’s safe to say, I should hold on to you. I figure if I treat you how you ought to be, then maybe you’ll stick around without me having to tie you to my bed.”

I laugh, but something in the back of my mind screams in warning, telling me he’s not kidding about any of it. Rather than say anything about possible red flags, I ask instead, “Is there a towel I can use in the bathroom?”

“The one hanging on the rack is clean. The other on the back of the door is mine. “You want anything specific to eat?”

“Surprise me, I’m not picky.”

“You’re cool with sloppy joes, popcorn, and beer, then?”

My face screws up in disgust before I have a chance to control my reaction. Rather than be offended, he just grins, shooting mea look that basically says, “See, told you so.” I shake my head and whisper, “So, maybe not that.”

He barks out a quick laugh. “Alright. I’ll see if there’s anything planned for food and if not, we’ll figure it out. Seriously, you’re not too picky?” We mostly ate sandwiches when we traveled together, so he wouldn’t know much about what I prefer to eat. I haven’t had a choice to be fussy over anything food-wise in a long time.

“Onions are pretty gross and make me sick sometimes.”

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