Page 12 of Tempted to Rebel

I run my fingers through Celia’s hair as I remember what it felt like to be at her mercy. The power she possessed. The determination. The thrill of being so important that she had to cut me out of her life or risk falling for me. I’m sure that she doesn’t see it that way, but I know the truth she keeps denying.

We’re meant to be together, and what happened here tonight proves it.

She’s too scared to let herself have a good thing.

Rebel appears from his bedroom a few moments later, an unwelcome visitor to this monumental miscalculation. His gaze pings to Celia instantly, his eyes widening at the new bruising around her neck. “What thefuck,Rage.” He rushes toward us and drops to his knees in front of her, holding his hands out like he wants to touch her but isn’t sure where to land. Water drips from his hair onto her skin while he gingerly prods the bruises with his fingertips. Hissing, he snaps the collar from around herneck and tosses it to the floor. A heart-shaped print is embedded into her skin. “Thisis why she won’t trust us. You’re fucking everything up! Shit, man.”

“She was supposed to concede,” I growl, hugging her body to my chest. She remains limp, and although I know I haven’t caused any permanent damage, Rebel might be right.

This will be another grievance that she holds against me.

“There’s—” Rebel’s eyes lock onto Celia’s throat. “There’s a heart.” He traces the shape with his fingertip before leaning in and kissing it. His lips linger against her throat, likely without him intending it, and I wrestle with the knowledge that despite our fucked-up displays of affection, the three of us reallydocare for her.

Rebel rakes a hand through his messy wet hair and pulls his snakebite into his mouth. Groaning, he leans back on his haunches and shuts his eyes. “What are we doing, Rage? We can’t—we don’t—” He huffs and adjusts his sitting position until his legs are sprawled out in front of him, the tears in his dark jeans threatening to rip. “I don’t like being this person.” Rubbing his chest, he sighs.

I cage off my heart, knowing that if any of us softens, all of our plans will fall apart. “She deserves this.” I brush my fingertips against her arm. “She deservesus.If we let her run off and do whatever she damn well pleases, she’ll make a mistake. She’ll choose wrong, just like she did before.” I shake my head as I think of her idiot ex-husband,Ted, who doesn’t deserve the air Celia fucking breathes. “I’m not letting her make those mistakes again. We’re going to keep her safe and satisfied, like she deserves. We’ll be the family she’s always wanted.”

She will learn to be grateful when she understands why this—the cage, the rules, the punishments and pleasures—is necessary.

Rebel’s eyebrows pinch together. “She deservesthis?” He stares at the bruising around her neck, the mottled purples and reds bleeding into the shapes of my fingers. “I’m pissed at her too, but I’ll get over it. I think. Maybe.” Standing, he brushes off his jeans and looks down at the two of us, a frown etched across his face. “Don’t mistake your revenge as kindness, man. It’s not pretty. And it won’t—” He draws a breath—“it won’t make her love you.”

After my brother leaves to get ready for another night of counting cards for rich old men, I sit with my woman cradled in my arms for far longer than I should, indulging in her presence. I run my fingers through her silky hair, brush my lips across her temple, and whisper promises into her ear.

She may not ever choose to love me, but that doesn’t mean I’ll stop loving her.

I can’t.

Iwon’t.

If there’s one good thing I can do in this life, it’ll be for her.

Everything will be for her.

Chapter 4

Celia

The heavybangfrom a door slamming shut jolts me awake. My tongue feels like sandpaper, my throat hoarse and raw, my eyes glued shut. Prying them open takes a million years, then it takes a million more to sit up.

A tendril of smoke curls in the air a few feet away, the tip of a cigarette glowing as its owner inhales. Then Rebel’s ringsclickas he wraps his fingers around the cage door and draws a breath. The room is pitch black, but I can make out his eyes and lips when he takes another pull from his cigarette.

Exhaustion stares back at me before the room goes dark. I smell the smoke as he breathes in my direction.

“Take a break, Ruin,” Rebel mumbles, the sound of keys jingling making the hairs on my neck rise. “I’ve got her.”

I squint in the darkness and look around for Ruin, but I never sense where he is. How long has he been watching over me? Have I been asleep the entire time? My stomach cramps from hunger, and I choke on my next breath.Thathurts, too, the sudden ache in my neck making it difficult to swallow. I think back to what happened before I fell asleep, and I remember Rage coming home, Rebel gnawing on a slab of steak, and then…

Swallowing painfully, I touch my throat and prod the tender spots with my fingertips. Then, I wrap my hand around my neck, and a violent shiver tumbles down my spine as a memory flickers. But my hand isn’t large enough to match the bruises—someone else touched me here. Someone whose hands are warm and calloused and rough, just as dangerous as the rest of him.

Rage must have squeezed so hard that I passed out. Vaguely, I remember him covering not only my neck, but my face as well, cutting off my ability to breathe. It would be one thing if this were a game, some kind of kink in action, but I know that he didn’t suffocate me to get his rocks off.

He did it to teach me a lesson.

One that I refused to learn.

Wincing, I remove my hand from my throat and take a shallow breath as I replay the scene in my head. I could have taken a breath before I passed out. Rage stopped covering my nose and mouth, perhaps expecting me to gasp for air, but I didn’t.

I let the sweet relief that comes from unconsciousness pull me under, and I feel damn good about denying Rage the one thing he wants: obedience. If he wants a wife, he’s going to have to learn that he can’t force me into anything. I’ll either go willingly, or not at all.

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