Page 10 of To Have and to Hold

I vowed to her as we stood and adjusted her clothes, it was a silent vow, for only my mind, but I made it. I vowed to her that her husband would die.

That she would be free of him.

“Thank you, Theo,” she repeated, still looking concerned. Again, I had the overwhelming urge to kiss her, but I didn’t. I’d already taken too much.

“I would do anything for you, little sister.”

Chapter 6

Theo

Walkingbackintotheparty felt fucking strange, knowing what I had just done. The strangest of all, was there was no regret. I muttered to Charlie, our big brother, to call off the half-assed search. I’d found her and she’d be out in just a moment, ready for whatever they demanded of her. Then I bee-lined for the bar and downed three consecutive whiskeys to calm my unsteady nerves. Only then did my brain fog enough for me to take in the room.

Shit. I’d fucked the bride on her wedding day. And that wasn’t even the most depraved thing about it. I could still feel her on my cock, wet and tight and warm. How? How had I fallen with such ease, let that happen, fucking welcomed it? There was no denying I had wanted it beyond the fuck you to Rafe it gave. The urge to run back to her made me tense every muscle to stop myself. Fool myself into thinking it would be simple to fling her over my shoulder and disappear into the night. But I’d spent somuch energy playing the long game, it would just get us fucked over if I acted too soon.Hold your nerve, Theo.

I leaned against the bar, aware of how disheveled I must appear, loose collar, mussed hair, and watched everyone with a scowl on my face. Our mother, sloppy drunk and trying to hide it. Our father, still licking the ass of his new son-in-law despite the deal being done. Crowds of eager men hovered near them, some bodyguards, some desperate to join the wankfest that was this wedding, the inner sanctum of their leader. They kept their inner workings from me, but some of it was obvious, especially as the alcohol made the foolish sloppier.

It wasn’t for Violet, it never was. It was all orchestrated to make all the men in the room look good. I despised it all. Was grateful to not be in Charlie’s shoes as the next head of the family. I never wanted that, had always been happy to be the spare, thrown into a decent college education, then given low-level, straightforward jobs. Father had me his enforcer, my life less valuable than Charlie’s. I intimidated anyone that had wronged the family, killed them if I had to. And trust me, there were a lot of the fuckers even over here across the pond. Father’s reach stretched far, and he enjoyed hiring me out to gain favor with the yanks. I’d even worked for Rafe before, picking off one of his men who’d gone into hiding after stealing weapons from their warehouses. Very churchly. They followed tenets they didn't believe in as an excuse for their depravity.

The blood on my hands had never seemed as monumental as what happened on that dirty balcony. I looked at Charlie, Margaret, and Amaryllis, remembered our childhood, placed each of my siblings in a room, in a moment. Charlie, scowling and refusing to play. The youngest two, in the garden with the nannies, kept out of the way of our parents. And Violet and I. We’d always been the closest until one day it was no longer allowed. Until they realized it was giving her something goodand stripped it from us. If she wasn’t isolated, she might form a conscious thought and reject their plans for her.

From then, that moment it all changed, I’d made it my mission toseeher. To make sure she still felt seen by someone that loved her. In an innocent, brotherly, no-strings way.

And now I had fucked her. Ruined it all.

When she’d stumbled over what she was trying to ask for, muttering about her virginity and looking so damn broken, it hadn’t been a massive leap to take me where we went. I loved her more than any other person, so giving her something so precious? Letting her give me what shethoughtwas precious? Saying no was an impossibility. It was in the darkest corners of my mind that I knew I never wanted to refuse.

She was beautiful. Our connection was strong even through the brief moments we shared. The phone I’d slipped her a year ago had been a thing of wonder in getting inside her head. We sent jokes, images of things we found funny, and chattered about nonsense. For me, it kept me level when I was working darker jobs. For her, she told me it made her feel a link, that she wasn’t alone in the world after all.

I decided, as I watched the schmoozing and smarming, that I didn’t care what I’d done to her. I had always given her what she wanted, needed, and this was no different. She had no one in her corner, everything ahead of her was bad, dark, bloody, bleak. If I could give her good, why the fuck wouldn’t I?

My heart skipped a beat in my dead chest when she appeared back in the room, clearly debating whether to go and announce her presence to those who had been looking for her, or whether to slip back onto the table in the corner, where no one might sneak up on her.

I looked her up and down, trying to reconcile my innocent sister with the woman I’d just buried my cock inside. Dirty patches marred her white dress at knee level. I had messed upher hair, sliding my hands through the silky strands, leaving it loose in its pile atop her head. From here, her make up wasn’t visible, but I imagined it smeared, lipstick on her chin and mascara dripping down her cheeks.

I should be disgusted, but I really fucking wasn’t. My cock twitched as my heart squeezed, and I wondered if I was just as ruined on the inside as she was on the outside. Marred, dirty, scuffed.

Mother spotted her, her drunken eyes like a hawks as she narrowed them and darted across the room, wrapping a spindly hand around Violet’s wrist to drag her back into the fray. They needed her for something; I didn’t know what, but she was shoved at Rafe. If anyone else saw her stumble and wince, they said nothing. If anyone else noticed how dirty her dress was, they made no noise about it. I couldn't watch these fucking rituals, these idiotic shows of faith none of them had. It made my teeth itch, my knuckles hum.

I should be over there, with my parents and siblings, mingling with our new in-laws, making bridges between families, but the idea had me sick. Sicker than the vivid thought of sliding back into my sister’s body. Which, really, didn’t make me nauseous at all. I resisted the urge to lick my lips for any lingering taste of her, mixed with the whiskey I didn’t stop chugging.

My gaze carried over the space, dragging from Violet as her eyes locked with her husband before he muttered something that had her kneeling on the floor. I couldn’t watch it. Rage enveloped me to the point I thought I might do something reckless. So I looked for my only ally in this room, the only person who might be able to help. I was unable to tell him everything, anything, really, but we all had our own dirty little secrets.

And I knew his.

My eyes landed on my uncle, my dad’s younger brother. He sat with a scowl on his face as a random cousin nattered away to him, his drink sloshing over the lip of his glass as he blathered on. My uncle must have sensed my attention on him, because he caught me staring not a second after I spotted him. Our gazes locked, and I tilted my head, gesturing for him to meet me outside.Come on, Uncle Connor. We have things to talk about.

“Wehavetogether the fuck out,” I said for the hundredth time to my uncle, glaring at him as he scowled back, listening to my words with fury building at the circles we were going in. We’d slipped away from the party, stepping onto an empty porch, littered with unused cocktail tables and seating – it was too cold for the partygoers to have leaked out here, but we were both still on edge, ready to move if necessary.

It hurt to be separated from Violet, to not be staring at her and confirming she was okay, or as okay as she could be. But just watching her wasn’t enough now. That was the fucking point.

“Theo—” Connor started, but I cut him off by slamming my glass down on the table. Fuck him, fuck this. He was going to tell me it wasn’t possible. No.

He huffed in a deep breath and scowled, and for a moment, tension rocketed between us. He was my ally, I was his in, his weaselly little mole, but it was tentative. Might spill over any minute. Neither of us wanted this link, neither of us wanted to keep the other’s secrets.

My voice was low, a demanding growl, I made him listen. “Connor, if we don’t get her out—”

The door creaked, opening enough that we both froze. No one came out, but it reminded me that we weren’t safe to talk here, not really. Two-thirds of the conversations inside were business related, not congratulatory or reminiscing like a wedding should have. And this was no different. But our business wasn’t the same.

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