Page 100 of Call You Mine

I was broken beyond repair. That was the hard fucking truth. I was so fucked up I didn’t even understand what it meant to be whole, to not have these demons lurking in my shadow, to feel anything other than rage and despair.

When I met Wynter, the first time my eyes fell on her, there was this surge of energy that struck me. The first time I had her in my hands, her body beneath mine, there was a rush of power unlike anything I’d ever felt. It was a high, a dangerous and desperate need to ensure I always had her close. It’s the reason I allowed myself to create the friendship I had with her—an outsider was suddenly part of my inner circle and she hadn’t even tried to weasel her way in. No, I let her in without thinking about the repercussions. But soon enough, those fears overwhelmed me and I had no idea how else to respond. I keptthe lines between us clear. The moment they’d blur, I’d set them back up to ensure we both understood why they were there to start with.

When she left, it became easier. Our conversations varied and far between, allowing us to keep everything platonic. However, as soon as she came back, everything I’d thought I’d gotten over rushed back to the surface, and I realized I’d fallen so deep. When I agreed to her request of pretending to be in a relationship, I knew the risk—the risk of having her so close to me, in my home, make-believing we were together—it was threatening to blur everything and confuse me into believing it was real. I’d spent so much time dreaming about her, about what things would have been like if we’d given into the temptations. The contract, the strict set of rules I set. To not touch her—was created because I couldn’t risk losing her. I knew the moment I’d lose her—because it would inevitably happen—I’d lose myself.

Yet here, right now, I’ll finally be able to unleash my inner demons on someone who came between me and my future. My friends have always called me Dragon because of the untamable flame within me, but the demons inside me begging to be let out burn just as hot.

From the inside, I can hear her heels clicking on the way to the door, my heart pounding in anticipation yet my entire being fills with equal amounts of dread. Rage builds up inside me once more, my fury too potent for me to ignore. For so long, I believed I had controlled it—suppressed it and kept it below the surface. I realize it was just a smoke screen, when for the hundredth time in just a few months, it once again threatens to bubble inside me and rise aching to erupt.

Before me, the door opens at such a slow pace, or maybe it just feels that way because I want to throw it open to see the woman I’ve spent the last hour obsessing over destroying. But it’s not Willa I find. From behind the door, a woman dressedliked she’s headed to a fucking gala at four o’clock in the morning.

“Hello, Draco,” she purrs, her voice like venom as it seeps from her Botox infused lips and my heart nearly jumps out of my chest.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demand, utterly stunned to see her here, of all places.

“That’s no way to address my dearest friend, now is it?” Willa coos, as she appears behind the door, pulling it open wider. There’s a devilish smirk on her face, a triumphant gleam in her eyes, and for a second I’m taken aback by how much Wynter resembles her. Yet this woman is rotten to the core and my girl is the purest form of innocence—at least I believed her to be before her betrayal. But maybe the apple, in fact, doesn’t fall far from the tree. “Not when you are the guest. It’s obvious no one ever taught you manners, boy.”

I enter the house without a word, nearly knocking them down as I push my way through. “You crazy bitch, what the fuck are you to up to?” I push Willa up against the wall, a sharp cackle leaving her with a groan as my hand wraps around her neck, holding her still. The house is eerily vacant except for a large white sofa in the middle of the living area to the right of us. The large winding staircase at the center of the room looks like some never-ending labyrinth leading up to the second floor.

It’s dark, nothing but candelabras lining up the foyer, giving the room a glum glow.

Clarissa and Willa are both dressed in long, sleek black dresses that would look great on any other woman, but the way they wear them makes me sick to my stomach. Fury blinds me. The reason I’ve come here now is pushed to the back of my mind as I try to figure out why the hell these two are together.

I remember something Wynter told me about how she knew about my role at Kingsman. Clarissa was a friend of hermother’s. At least they ran in the same circles before Willa was outcast. Wynter had heard about me, and what I was a part of, and that’s where she got the idea to solicit me for my services. At the time, I found it hilarious that she felt the need to “hire” me instead of just asking me to help her. I would have done it for her, helped her in whatever she needed to fool her mother, but I went along with her scheme, the need to pretend I was doing it for money like I would with any other client.

It worked out for me too. Looking at this as another job to fulfill allowed me to keep control of the situation and what I allowed myself to do. Soon enough, that control slipped until our roles reversed and Wynter was the one who held all the power.

And she’d used her power to end me.

Clarissa’s eyes roam over me, in the same lucrative way they always have. It used to thrill me that such a powerful, influential and frankly beautiful woman saw something in me she craved. But as I watch Willa, staring at me with the same look of desire in her eyes, it makes me fucking sick to my stomach.

I push off Willa, my fists handing at my sides to stop me from further choking the bitch. “My darling Draco,” Clarissa chimes, walking over to me and trailing her hand around my chest. My breath hitches as I move out of her reach, trying my hardest to restrain myself from throwing her off me.

A shadow in the next room catches my attention, and I find a tall figure seated in the middle of the large sofa. A man with shaggy dark hair and hooded green eyes with a dark shadow around them stares straight at me, a look of anger in his eyes as he watches me approach him. More than anger, it’s a sort of envious glint in his eyes as he sizes me up. When he stands from the couch and steps under the dim light above him, I notice he's dressed in a sleek emerald green suit, the lapels of his jacket stained with something I can’t quite make out, but what catches my eye are the black and purple bruises marking the skin of hisface. They’re fresh, one under his right eye still open and coated in semi-dry blood. Actually, the entire right side of his face looks like it was pounded relentlessly, dried blood still staining the skin of his cheek, eye and along his forehead.

In the darkness, I can’t quite make out if I know him. He looks familiar, yet I know I’d be able to place him since I’d had seen him before.

Willa’s heels click against the marble floor as she makes her way to him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she lowers her lips to his, pulling him in for a long and desperate kiss. It’s sickening the way she tugs his bottom lip in between her teeth. My stomach recoils at the sight of her kissing a man who looks not much older than me, but what really pushes me over the edge is when Clarissa saunters over to me and tries to do the same thing.

Her long arms wrap around my neck, her fingers toying with the collar of my shirt as she presses her lips against my neck. I don’t move, horrified by what she’s trying to do, but more intrigued by the asshole in front of me.Is this him, the man my Wynter has been running from?

The moment Willa releases her hold of him, I reach up to grab Clarissa’s wrist currently wrapped around my neck, and push her off me, nearly knocking her to the floor from the sheer force.

“Hmm,” Clarissa moans, my body vibrating frantically from the disgust I feel at the sight of her. She stands, smoothing her dress with the back of her hands as she pretends she’s not affected by what I’ve just done to her. “I’d almost forgotten how rough you like it.”

I’m unable to respond before Willa demands my attention. “Damon Drake,” Willa says, her tone full of spite as she holds the man beside her like he’s the most precious thing to her. “Please meet Luke Prescott. You may have met his little sisterCarrington as you both went to school together. Luke here is a dear friend of my little girl, an ex-lover, if I’m not mistaken.”

Luke fucking Prescott. This is the asshole Carrington was looking for today. The man Wynter swore she hadn’t seen since she left New York. Which means she’d been in contact with him recently.Could she have fucked him too?

However, Luke’s not the man in the videos, not the one who had her draped on his arm in every shot I saw, but he had something to do with why she was running—that I was certain of.

Anger nearly blinds me at Willa’s insinuation that my Wynter and this fucking asshole were ever anything. No, my girl would have never been with some pathetic pirate wannabe like this fucker. I push the ridiculous thoughts out of my mind. There’s no fucking way Wynter would ever set her eyes on a man like this. He looks like a fucking douche, some frat boy who thinks he has what it takes to get his hands dirty in a world like the one these women are a part of. No, he’s nothing but a pawn of theirs.

Luke dares take a step forward, but the moment I let out a sharp growl he stops, choosing his next move wisely. “Yes, Wynnie may have told you about our time together in New York.”

The fucking bastard has some nerve trying to make me jealous and believe she was with him while she was away from me. There’s no way Wynter had anything to do with him, and if she did, then he was part of the reason she was running. Which means he was part of the reason we were currently at odds.

“Why the fuck did you all summon her here?”

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