Page 299 of Redeemed

“So?”

“I’ve never done that before.”

Silence, then a quiet but determined, “Do it.”

“No.”

“Xander.”

“I…”

“Please don’t stop.” Lucas’s voice is shaking—no,allof him is shaking. “I can’t be done yet. I can’t. I…”

“We’re done,” I say gently. “With this, at least.”

“Xan, I need—”

“I know.” As I say it, I place a hand on his back. It’s a light, reassuring touch. “I’m not gonna leave you feeling like this. Get on the bed.”

I grab the lube from my nightstand and follow him. When he hears me pop the cap open, he gets on his hands and knees. I brush my hand over his ass, and he grunts in pain.

“This’ll hurt,” I warn.

“That’s the fucking point.”

With a smirk, I prep him and then wash my hands. He tenses as he feels me climb onto the bed behind him. I add more lube to my dick before sliding into him. When my hips hit his ass, he hisses.

It doesn’t stop me. I feed on his pain as I pull out and pump back into him. This is what he asked for—what he desperately needs—and I can’t deny him that.

I love him too much.

So with every thrust, I make sure to slam into him all the way to aggravate the welts on his ass. Lucas’s shoulders are bunched up, and he’s gripping the sheets hard, but he barely makes a noise. He’s absorbing the pain and letting it force out the guilt of failing the girl we were supposed to protect.

Lucas doesn’t come, and neither do I. There are many types of releases, and this isn’t supposed to be one of pleasure.

Nothing should feel good tonight.

Nothing will until we have Haven with us again.

Haven

Inthemorning,Iwake up before Isaiah and slip out of bed. My body is sore from last night, but that won’t change Isaiah’s expectations of me. I’m back. That means I’m responsible for all the things I was before I ran away.

I quietly get dressed for the day in the bathroom. I’m the same size as I was when I left, so all my dresses still fit. I choose a light purple one, hoping it’ll give me some hope, but when I look in the mirror, my face falls.

My hair.The short tufts are so obvious. It’s what Isaiah wants, but I refuse to let him win—at least, with something like this.

It takes me a few tries, but I’m able to weave most of the shorter strands into a crown braid. I pin the rest down and use a bit of hairspray thatdefinitelyexpired years ago to keep them flat. It’s not perfect, but it’s much better than what Isaiah intended.

Once I’m done in the bathroom, I tiptoe downstairs. The kitchen is still organized exactly like it was before I left, so everything is easy to find.

Anger roils inside me as I get the coffee started. In a matter of hours, I’ve had everything I’ve worked for stolen from me. I was pulled back to the one place that I promised myself I’d never return to.

Cornerstone has always had its claws in me, and I’m finally realizing I’ll never be free.

When Isaiah comes downstairs, the coffee is finished, and I’m almost done with his breakfast. His gaze lingers on my hair, and his frown is disapproving, but he doesn’t say anything.

I feel too sick to eat, and he doesn’t comment when I only serve him food. Sitting at the table with him has my skin crawling, but it’s better than the alternative.

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