Page 55 of Wicked Union

And I liked it.

ChapterTwenty-Seven

COLE

Iwould never forget the day Grace moved to Fort Marshall. She strolled into my home with her grandfather, dressed in a baby blue sundress. Grace looked like a porcelain doll with those pink cheeks, big blue eyes that practically jumped off her face, and long, blonde hair that spilled down her shoulders.

She was perfect.

I wanted to reach out and touch her, maybe even mess up her hair to put my mark on her. So quiet and shy, she only smiled as our families introduced us. At this moment, I wanted so badly to return tothatday.

She was on top of Rhys, staring at me in the mirror while she came on his dick. I tried to be the nice guy, her protector. Her knight in shining armor. I took an oath and swore to uphold the laws of The Devil’s Knights and The Founders Society.

That was my job.

It was Rhys’s, too.

We agreed to share her, but I wasn’t good at it. I wanted Grace to myself. And as I watched them, my heart thudding in my chest, I saw red. My vision blurred, and I thought I might black out.

I stormed into the room, trying to block out the sound of Rhys coming inside Grace. Anger surged through me like a storm.

Her cheeks flushed, and her long, blond hair brushed the tops of her breasts. Grace was the prettiest girl I had ever laid eyes on. I had met a lot of beautiful women, but no one compared to her.

“You better have worn a condom, Vanderbilt.”

Grace covered her naked body with a sheet. “Cole, why are you mad? You said you were okay with this. And after last night, you made it clear you don’t want me anymore.”

“I never said those words.”

Rhys tied off the condom, threw it into the trash can, and shot up from the bed. “She’s wet, tight, and ready for you, Marshall. I got her all warmed up.” He patted me on the back and smirked. “I know how much you like my sloppy seconds. Have fun.”

It was all a game.

Of course, it was.

He even had me fooled for a little while. Rhys was so good at hiding his true nature. And as long as he wasn’t hurting Grace, I stopped thinking about the words he said to me on the day he moved into my house.

A gentleman never kisses and tells.

He stood before me naked, his dick at half-mast and smirking as if he’d won. “Wait until I tell Fitzy about how you violated his precious granddaughter. All the dirty things she let us do to her.” He shrugged. “You might as well fuck her again, for old time’s sake.”

With that, I slammed my fist into his jaw, knocking him off balance. He stumbled backward, but I hit him again before he could right himself. One punch after the other, swinging so hard my knuckles burned.

Rhys took a swing, and I ducked, his fist landing on my bicep. He tried to hit me with a right hook, which I evaded. “You’re jealous. Get over yourself, Marshall.”

“No, I’m not.” My fist crashed into his cheek. “You fucked her out of spite.”

He let out maniacal laughter that set me over the edge. Rhys Vanderbilt was the villain in Grace’s story, not the hero. At least he showed his true colors, letting her see the real Rhys. The asshole I had grown up with at York Military Academy.

So I pounded my fists into his face, blood spilling from his mouth, staining his bare chest.

“Cole,” Grace shouted, her voice a whimper. “Stop it! You’re going to kill him.”

I hope so.

Ignoring her screams, I punched Rhys until he couldn’t take anymore and hit the carpet like a sack of potatoes. Clutching his bloody face, he lay on his side and groaned. His pretty face would be black and blue by morning.

Grace sobbed. “What did you do?”

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