Page 24 of Prodigal Son

The tight space reeked of sawdust and hay. He jerked her narrow hips to his and yanked the fastenings of her apron loose. He needed a distraction from his terrible thoughts.

He wanted to think of anything but Anna and the baby. He needed to mute his guilt and shame. Hope’s mouth opened under his demanding kiss, and her daring tongue darted past his lips. He didn’t like her willingness, which he usually appreciated.

His kiss turned punishing and his fingers quickly pulled the fabric of her dress down her front until her pale breasts were exposed. He bunched her skirts, seeking the ties of her undergarments. When she giggled, he growled. He didn’t want her to enjoy his touch. He wanted her to hate him like everyone else. No point in the tiresome masquerade when they all knew how lost he was.

“Turn around.” He shoved her toward the wall and bent her down. She spread her legs apart, too eager.

Reaching around her slender waist, he gripped her small breast and she moaned. How was she enjoying this? He was using her. He gripped a fist in her hair and tugged.

“Mmm,” she moaned. “I missed your touch.”

He shoved away from her body, enraged by her enthusiasm. His erection flagged. He wanted to hit something.

Hope was not his enemy, but his rage blinded him to her innocence in this. “Get out of here.”

Shock stiffened her spine and she stood up, holding the front of her dress to her chest. “Cain, what’s wrong—”

“Go!”

She flinched and tears welled in her eyes. “Did I do something wrong? Show me what you want and I’ll—”

“I want you to leave! Get out of here and don’t come back! I don’t want you anymore!”

She sucked in a sharp breath and ran out of the barn, clutching her apron to her front.

He cursed when he saw the tool she’d come to borrow forgotten on the shelf. He was a monster.

Hope hadn’t deserved his cruelty, just like Anna, yet he hurt them both. He hurt everyone who dared to interact with him.

Enough. There was no room in his life for sadness or self-pity. Sadness was for victims and he refused to be a victim when his only job was to survive. A life sentence that would last all of eternity. No need to drag it out with defeatist emotions. From here on, he’d shut everything off. He’d keep himself and Anna safe, deal with the Destiny dilemma, and find someplace quiet to be alone until the baby was born. Then he’d disappear for good.

But first, he had a stop to make. There was one other female he needed to see.

CHAPTER 8

“Yo, yo, yo, check it out!” Trent grabbed the hairspray from Zoey’s hand and pumped it at the flame of his lighter. A blaze exploded in the air. “Dracarys.” He laughed and pumped the flammable spray into the flame again.

“Don’t waste it.” Zoey snatched the hairspray from him and stuffed it back in her bag. “What the hell was I looking for?”

“Your manners.” Trent flicked his zippo shut and sulked. “June, how long’s it take to pack a fucking bowl?”

“Don’t rush me. This is good shit. I stole it from my Aunt Bel.”

“Man, your aunt’s weed is killer,” Zoey said, using her bag as a seat as they sat around the bonfire tucked deep in the woods. “I wish I knew where she got it.”

Juniper sprinkled the last bit into the bowl and twisted the jar shut. “She grows it.”

Trent tossed her the lighter and laughed. “That’s not all she grows. We could be smoking some voodoo up in here.” He playfully tugged Juniper’s jacket off her shoulder, exposing the crocheted weave of her sweater. “I can see your bra through this shirt.”

“That’s the point.” She lit the bowl and puffed until it glowed, releasing her finger to suck in a deep inhale. Voice tight, she handed it to Zoey and said, “It’s hot.”

They passed the bowl around, each one taking a few puffs, as the effects of her aunt’s high-quality cannabis quickly kicked in.

“So is this magick pot?” Zoey giggled.

“Fuckin’ right it is.” Trent laughed. “It magically appears and we never have to pay.”

“Aren’t you afraid she’ll find out you stole it?”

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