Page 7 of To Have and to Hold

I ignored what Violet asked, devastation playing in my stomach, twisting it up. Fuck, I needed to get away. I needed to get away from her and the shame and the look of grief I’d caused on her face.

Because what a fucking question.

What a thing to ask of me.

I couldn’t.

No.

But.

No, not but. I twisted on my heel and fled down the metal steps like a coward, racing from the distant sound of her crying, until it morphed into the swish of the ocean. Until the metal turned into asphalt turned into mud then sand.

I landed in it. My knees burrowing an inch into the soft sand when my legs gave out. Honestly, I was miserable about rejecting her. I was always unable to refuse her. I’d spent the last few years of my time living in our family mansion smuggling things to her. Sneaking her chocolate and DVDs and my phone for a few hours until I got her one of her own. She was always so grateful, so gentle about it, eating or watching or browsing with such happy wonder. It warmed me. I was finding it hard to come up with a reason to say no.

Illegality, sure, but I did illegal shit all the time. My role in the family was a brutal one. Barely a day went by where I didn’t commit the worst of crimes.

Morality? Same applied. But it was all in the name of this farce, this powerful group he wanted us to join, to thrive in. Violet was just the first casualty.

I didn't believe it, not really, but I sure as fuck worked as if I did. Nonetheless, if I could give Violet something she wanted, a small piece of herself to own, I sure as fuck shouldn’t give it to her. While I tried to calm my breathing, I thought of alternative methods to help. How I might get my damned little sister laid before her husband climbed his disgusting self on top of her. But fury. I only felt fury when I imagined grabbing the least creepy waiter or calling a fucking escort in somehow. I had friends I would trust to do it, but none of them were here.

Shit.

It resembled a death. My decision. Either way, something would die. Peace of mind. Our relationship. Her very soul deep need to cling to an aspect of her own being. Either way. Death.

So fuck it. If we were dying anyway, may as well give my little sister what she wants. No matter how wrong. No matter how far against everything my father had been working for.

I rose, brushed off the sand, and turned to face the beach house. From here, I was unable to see her, but I knew where she stood, her soul withering and body slumping, the balcony tucked in the shadow of the building. I knew she would still be there, breaking. Uncaring. Rafael would find her and beat her for not performing as wife. We didn’t have long. If I was going to… do this, we didn’t have much time to pull it off.

Because I was about to take my sister’s virginity. Really, there had never been any doubt. Possessiveness at the idea of anyone else doing it surprised me, but it brought irritation too. How could we have come to this? How could this be the last time I was able to do something for her? I had things up my sleeve, plans in motion with others. But she was never a part of it. Not until now.

Everything with Rafe was already under hand. But I didn’t anticipate this.

As sand and mud turned into asphalt turned into metal, my heart leaped to my throat. And when Violet’s red, blotchy eyescaught mine and widened as I climbed the stairs, something zapped between us.

A twisted sickness. But that was this life.

Chapter 4

Violet

Aircaughtinmythroat and my heart beat against my ribs at the flicker of hope as he ascended the stairs, bringing himself back to me. “What are you—?” It wouldn’t come, it was too much. Crazy. What if we were thinking different things? What if he was returning simply to guide me back to the party and tell my husband what I'd tried to do. How I tried to ruin everything. Would they kill me right then? Was there some ritual for those who betrayed them? Perhaps I would find out.

But no. That wasn't my Theo. He would let me down gently. He wouldn't throw me to the wolves.

As I was bracing myself to look back up and learn what expression he wore, Theo’s hand appeared in front of my face, open, waiting for me, and I took it, letting him tug me closer until we were nose to chest. He was a good few inches taller, and wider too, his body built for fighting, but not bulky.

"I can't do it," I said into his chest, no proper words coming, no apologies or questions.

“I can, though,” Theo muttered, and ran his thumb along my cheek, forcing me to look up at him. “I can do it for you.”

“Theo…” I sighed, my heart shattering at his words. It didn’t separate into tiny shards though, it stayed together. Broken, but alive.

He exhaled, slow and pained, his thumb still on my skin, swooping over my cheekbone and across my jaw, as if he was mapping out my features. I could feel the tension rolling off him, meeting my own. I so wanted to be able to sink, to relax and enjoy whatever this was. But it wouldn’t be normal. Conventional. I was darkening him.

“Turn around. This won’t be romantic. That’s not what this is. But it will get the job done. I can take this from you. Keep it safe until you can give it to someone who deserves it. Rafe is not that man. I am not that man. It’s safe keeping, okay?” He looked at me with such soft, urging eyes, and I found myself nodding, turning. I wanted to question his beliefs, his loyalties to the church, but the words wouldn't come, I just did as he commanded.

Theo’s hands were on my hips, still guiding. “Hands on the railing. We don’t have long.”

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