Page 82 of Bound

Gentle hands hold my hair back as I retch and cough, a cool cloth placed on my forehead, and a glass of water pressed into my hand when I sit back on my heels, my eyes closed.

“What did he say to you, Princess?” Ash asks, stroking my hair back from my sweaty face.

I look into his face, his grey eyes swirling with concern. It takes me a couple of tries before the words will come.

“That he could have been the f–father of my baby, instead of its grandpa,” I tell him in a trembling voice, tears spilling from my eyes.

A curse sounds from my left, and I turn my head in time to see Loki punch the mirror, shattering it, shards of glass flying across the room. Luckily the door is closed so hopefully Erica didn’t hear too much.

“That fucking pervert cunt!” Loki roars, his chest heaving. I leap up, feeling a wave of dizziness that I ignore as I rush towards him, my shoes crunching over the glass.

“Hey, it’s okay, my love,” I tell him softly, taking his now bleeding hand in mine and tutting.

“None of this is fucking okay, Pretty Girl,” he whispers back, placing his forehead against my own. “None of it,”

“It will be, soon, brother,” Ash says, his tone serious as he walks towards us, placing a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “They will hurt for what they have done to us, and we’ll be the ones watching them bleed before the baby is born.”

The boys exchange an intense look, Loki nodding as they seal the vow between them.

My eyes drift down to Loki’s bleeding hand, watching the blood drip onto the shards of glass at our feet, and a shiver runs through me. There’ll be more bloodshed before this is all over.

I just wonder how much of it will be ours.

CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN

LILLY

The meeting with Erica wasn’t that bad. In fact, it was actually kind of fun once I got into the swing of it. After all, what girl doesn’t dream of planning her wedding to one of the loves of her life?

Ash basically lets me decide everything, not batting an eyelid when I say that I’d like it outside with the mountains as our backdrop and a party in the woods afterwards. And he just smirked when Erica asked about what colour theme we’d like, telling her that it would be rainbow themed before I’d even opened my mouth.

Could I love him any more?

We managed to get most of the details down, from the flowers to the food and music, and she left telling me that she’d made an appointment with the wedding dress shop in town for me this Saturday.

Two days' time.

My head spins with how fast things are moving, how much my life is changing in such a short space of time.

Friday morning rolls around, and as we all leave the dorm, there’s something in the air. I can’t pinpoint it exactly, but it’s a feeling of foreboding that sticks to me like tar, leaving my heart rate up, and my palms sweaty as we walk down the central stairs and into the main hall.

I see Willow rush up to us, her bush baby eyes wider than usual and her face tight. Her eyes briefly flick to Loki at my side before coming back to me, full of sympathy.

“Have you seen?” she asks, holding her academy iPad to her chest.

“Seen what, Willow?” I ask, my throat thick as her mouth turns down. My heart beats painfully in my chest.

“I’m so sorry, Loki,” she replies, looking briefly at him. My brows drop as she holds out the iPad and starts playing a video.

It takes a moment to make sense of what is on the screen, but when I do, my eyes must go as wide as Willow’s.

“Is that...Clarissa?” I whisper, horrified as I watch a young naked Loki, underneath an equally naked Clarissa, who's writhing on top of him. The sounds she’s making are those of a cheap pornstar, and bile fills my throat when I realise just how young Loki looks, maybe he’s thirteen at the most.What is wrong with these fucking people?

I tear my gaze away to look up at him. His jaw is clenched so tightly that I can hear his teeth grinding together, his cheeks mottled, and his whole body is wound tight. I reach out to touch his rock-solid arm, but he flinches away at the contact, like it burns him. My eyes sting at the rejection even though I know he doesn't mean it.

“How many are there?” he asks through gritted teeth, not taking his eyes off that damn video.

“Um, I dunno,” Willow answers, cringing slightly. “Maybe twenty or so. But I’ve not watched them all.”

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