Throne of Truth Page 10

  Twice.

  “I was there.”

  “I know.” She crossed her arms. “What part did you play?”

  “Part?” I frowned.

  “Were you the one to rip my clothes, steal my necklace, or try and force me to give a blowjob?”

  I winced, gripping the glass too hard. Any harder, it would splinter. Placing it on the table, it wobbled in my haste to be free of it.

  Elle flinched; her nostrils flared, waiting for my damning response.

  Familiar anger toward her rose. Anger I was more acquainted with than whatever I felt now. Shoving myself off the chair, I slammed to my knees in front of her.

  Grabbing her face, I held her firm as she shied backward, trying to get free.

  My fingers dug into her cheeks, holding her even as she latched her fingers around my wrists and scratched me hard. “Let me go.”

  I didn’t answer.

  I couldn’t answer.

  My lips sought hers.

  I dragged her forward, our mouths connecting in a vicious kiss.

  She cried out as I held her close. My tongue licked her seam, begging for entry but not forcing, even though every cell in my body demanded to shove her back, climb on top, and show her in actions not words who I was.

  It fucking hurt that she had to ask. That she looked at me and wasn’t convinced. That she could think such awful things about me. That she couldn’t see.

  Her tiny fist connected with my sternum. If I hadn’t been punched there a few times already, it wouldn’t have registered over the sex haze in my brain. But she prodded a deep bruise, stealing my air, making me pull back.

  “Stop touching me.” Her voice was a hiss, a threat, a plea.

  I didn’t let her go, drinking in her rage, sinking into the vulnerability in her gaze. “How can you ask that question?”

  She coughed in surprise. “What question?”

  “Who I am?”

  She bared her teeth. “Because I don’t know.”

  “You do know. You’ve known all along.”

  “Wrong. You’ve lied to me from day one.”

  I shook my head sadly. “I never lied to you, Elle. Not once.”

  She swatted away my hands, sucking in a breath. “You lied about everything.”

  “Did I lie about how much I want you? Did I lie how much I—”

  “You’re going to sit there and claim whatever it was between us was purely physical?”

  “Is. Not was. It’s not past tense.” I took her hand, my cock hardening against the intoxicating buzz between us.

  “Answer the question, Penn.” She tried to untangle her fingers from mine.

  I didn’t let her.

  I wanted to nod with conviction. To say the connection linking and pinging and zapping like nuclear energy was nothing more than shallow lust. But we both knew emotions had crept their sneaky asses into our lives long before we’d acknowledged it.

  They’d been there since that very first night.

  They’d been there every day for three goddamn years.

  I’d hunted her down, invaded her life, and befriended her father because of emotion. To deny that would be the worst kind of lie because it would mean I’d have to lie to myself.

  “I won’t say that because it’s not true.”

  “Oh!” She rolled her eyes. “You’re finally going with truth.”

  I scowled. “I promised, didn’t I?”

  She laughed, hard and brittle. “Sorry if I don’t believe you. That I don’t believe you’re going to answer me honestly for the first time—”

  “You dare lecture me on honesty?”

  “You dare deny you’ve been anything but a liar?”

  “Elle,” I snarled. “Don’t start an argument you can’t win. You want the truth. I’m giving you the truth. You’ve known the fucking truth all along.”

  She stood up, knocking me sideways. My arm flew out, smashing her glass of water off the coffee table. Liquid spilled in a waterfall onto the brown and turquoise retro rug but I didn’t care.

  She charged for the door.

  Launching upright, I chased after her. My body hurt, my head pounded, but I caught her arm, spinning her to face me. “Stop.”

  “Let me go.” She kicked my knees, anger painting red spots on her cheeks. “I don’t want to be here.”

  “You do. You have to listen.”

  “I don’t have to do anything.” Her chest puffed as she inhaled hard. “Let me go, Penn, or whoever you are.” Her face turned nasty. “Or should I say Gio or Sean.”

  The world froze.

  She remembered?

  Christ, three years and she remembered.

  Her father had said she was intelligent and I’d seen first-hand how capable and strong she was but to remember...fuck.

  My heart raced. “My name is Penn.”

  “But what was it three years ago?”

  Passion raged through me. I wanted nothing more than to hurt her the way she’d hurt me. To force her to be honest the way she was asking me to be. Couldn’t she see she stabbed me with a blade each time she believed I wasn’t who I said?

  “It’s always been Penn.”

  Does that answer your question? See me. See who I am.

  It would be so easy to come out and tell her. To wrap my lips around the words and reveal my secret. But just as I hated her three years ago, I hated her now for doubting. If what’d happened that night was real she shouldn’t have to ask.

  She should know.

  Just like I knew.

  She should hurt as much as I did.

  I’ll show her.

  The ridiculous idea popped into my head. Wrapping my fingers around her throat, I marched her backward toward the kitchen wall. She stumbled, her hand coming up to fight against my hold. “Let—let me go.”

  I didn’t stop, not when she tripped and I had to pluck her feet from the floor and hoist her into my arms, not when she kicked my shins as I crashed her against the wall, and not when I grabbed her chin, held her firm, and kissed her like she ought to have been fucking kissed for the past three years.

  She was a virgin.

  She’d waited.

  I liked to think she’d waited for me. That her body had always been mine just like her heart. But I was in the habit of lying to others, not to myself, so I wouldn’t believe such fantasy.

  Her tongue tangled with mine. Her breath feeding my lungs as I devoured her.

  Her sharp moan made me pull back. Panting hard, I murmured, “I was there. I’ll tell you even though you already know. I’m—”

  A fist hammered on my door. “Police. Open up.”

  Elle froze in my arms.

  My muscles atrophied in horror.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  I thought I’d have more time.

  I thought I’d tell her. Explain why I’d acted the way I had, and then either win the lottery by having her forgive me or drive her home, so I knew she was safe.

  It’s too soon.

  I haven’t finished.

  I knew they’d come for me. It was a risk I’d been willing to take. A chance I had to take to save her. But not so soon. Not before I could fix what I’d ruined.

  “Elle, I’m—”

  Her eyes flared wide as the pounding came again. “Penn Everett, open this door. Immediately.”

  “Fuck.” I raked a hand through my hair, stepping away from Elle, seeing all my dreams and wishes evaporate into dust.

  Elle slipped back onto her toes, smashing a hand over her mouth. “Oh, my God.”

  I didn’t know if her sudden profanity was at our interruption or my roundabout confession. Her face shot white. Her eyes searching for something real, something she could latch onto and find—

  “We know you’re in there. Open up!” the police barked, destroying everything—just like they’d destroyed the first night we met. Just like they destroyed my entire fucking life before I ever found Elle in that alley.


  My gaze danced around my apartment, looking for something, anything, that I could use against what was about to happen.

  But I was at a loss.

  All because I’d let the violence in my blood carry me away.

  My shoulders sank with depression. There was no getting around this. Unfortunately, this time, I deserved what would happen.

  Larry is gonna be so pissed.

  Swallowing hard, I glanced one last time at Elle and stalked to the front door. I opened it just as an officer raised his hand to thump again. “It’s open. Calm the fuck down.”

  One moment, I was a free man standing in my own apartment trying to repair the damage with a girl I would never admit to caring for.

  The next, I was a prisoner held between two officers, brute force yanking my arms back even when I offered no retaliation.

  “Penn Everett, you’re under arrest.”

  I laughed.

  It was the only fucking thing I could do.

  That night.

  That field.

  That kiss.

  Elle lost her shock, dashing forward and hanging on the arm of the officer who snapped the metal restraints over my wrists. “Wait, you can’t do this.”

  A female rookie with a fresh uniform, polished buttons, and a never-been-used weapon stepped forward and pulled her back. “Ma’am, don’t touch the arresting officer.”

  Elle whirled on her. “Don’t touch him? Well, tell him not to touch him.” She pointed at me, her hand shaking. “We’re not done. I need to talk to him.”

  “He’s done.” The officer who caught me grinned with smugness. His ginger hair prickled like a hedgehog with his buzz cut. “Guess you’re going home, huh?”

  I glowered.

  Elle shook her head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  The officer replied, “It means I’ve followed his record, and it was only a matter of time until he slipped again. They always do.” He chuckled, motioning to the rookie to grab an elbow and march me toward the door.

  I went with them. I offered no resistance.

  Things would only get worse if I did.

  “Wait. You can’t do this. Release him.” Elle stayed by my side, fighting all over again for me.

  Does she remember that night?

  Did she remember the way she begged for my freedom in the park? The way she’d run as hard as she could and offered herself as a sacrifice when she couldn’t run anymore? The way she’d kissed me breathless and frantic in the bushes while I waited for the police to take me because I didn’t want her to hurt or fear anymore?

  I’d fallen for her for that.

  I’d fallen so fucking hard in only a heartbeat. She’d been the only good thing in my world. The only light after so much darkness. How could I control my free fall when she treated me with such kindness? When she’d kissed me. When she’d trusted me. When she’d given me half the chocolate bar I’d stolen from the convenience store only an hour before meeting her?

  Christ, I’d fallen so damn hard, I hadn’t recovered from the bruises even years later.

  It was only till after I was freed from prison did my infatuation with the princess I’d met that night turn to malice. Such simple adoration twisted the more I learned about her. The more I researched and grasped at fragments of information widely available online and in newspapers.

  She was rich.

  She was powerful.

  She could’ve helped free me.

  But she hadn’t.

  She’d left me to rot.

  She’d lied to me that night about feeling something. Because if she’d felt half of what I had, she wouldn’t have left me behind bars without doing everything in her goddamn power to find me.

  But I’d grown up since then.

  Since Larry found me and did what I’d hoped she would.

  I finally had someone on my side, and it wasn’t her.

  I wasn’t proud, but I’d let the snowballing hate smash through whatever ground I’d stood on. I’d fallen harder for her but the wrong way this time. I’d allowed my stupid sleuthing to tarnish the only good thing in my world and turn it into the chalice of everything I despised.

  I’d never felt like that before.

  Never been so livid against injustice and frustration and anger. I’d known weakness and helplessness. I’d know destitution and abandonment. I’d known terror and shame and respect and confusion and every fucking emotion on the roulette called life.

  But I’d never known love until her.

  And I’d never known hate until her.

  Never laid awake at night with my guts churning and heart burning and a paralysis that kept me stuck forever thinking about her.

  Her out there. Free.

  Her out there. Rich.

  Her out there. While I was inside trapped and crippled by a system that’d failed me in every fucking way since I’d been born.

  I had nothing to say as the officers led me from the apartment I’d paid for in cash—cash I’d earned the right way, not the wrong way—and crammed me into the hallway.

  Elle chased us.

  Her face alive. Her eyes disbelieving that once again, the law would tear us apart. She didn’t even know. She didn’t trust, even now. She believed I was Gio or Sean.

  How fucking could she?

  How could she kiss me and not trust in that?

  How could she think I was a rapist when I had so much I wanted to fucking say to her but never would?

  You hurt me, Elle.

  More than anyone.

  In a strange way, I was glad I wouldn’t be allowed to see her again. It made this so much easier. I wouldn’t have to deal with the betrayal or spill everything I’d done to make amends.

  I wouldn’t have to admit I was wrong.

  That she was rich and powerful and above most rules, but she hadn’t forgotten me. I knew better now. She would’ve come for me. If only I’d told her my goddamn name that night instead of keeping it secret—terrified she’d be embarrassed by me. That she’d go from thinking I was a down-on-his-luck passerby and know the truth. The truth that my bed consisted of cardboard and donated blankets. That my meals consisted of charity and theft.

  It was my fault.

  And hers.

  We’d fucked up together.

  All this time, I thought I would be begging for her forgiveness. That she would walk out of my life once she knew I’d lied to her and I admitted just how much my hate navigated my actions.

  But in reality, I would leave her and the justice system would banish her from my world.

  “Stop!” Elle stood to her full height in her ridiculous gold negligée, wrapping herself in authority not many excel at and few are born with. “Let him go. I won’t ask again.”

  “Ms. Charlston?” David, her driver, bodyguard, and fucking nuisance, climbed the stairs with his arms loose by his sides. He seemed to have a knack for turning up at the wrong time.

  Did he not trust me with his employer?

  That made two of them.

  His languid steps didn’t fool me. He was packing and just itching to draw. He’d wanted this ever since he recognized me the night I picked Elle up at the Blue Rabbit and took her back to my place to fuck her the first time.

  He’d glared into my eyes, and in that glimpse, we’d both relived that night in Central Park. The night when he’d come to claim sweet nineteen-year-old Elle and left me on my own. I’d expected him to say something. To say more than ‘he looks familiar’ but he hadn’t. He’d zipped his lips and let Elle decide who to believe I was.

  I had to give him credit for that, at least.

  “David, tell them to let him go.” Elle whirled toward him, looking to him to fix this. He might’ve stopped Elle from being arrested three years ago, but he hadn’t done it for me then, and he wouldn’t do it for me now.

  His jaw tightened, his dark skin hiding stress and anger better than Elle’s pale complexion as he moved to her side. He didn’t touch her. Professional
until the end. “Greg woke up and pressed charges. Mr. Everett hurt him. He’ll have to suffer the consequences.”

  Elle growled, “Greg kidnapped me. He was seconds away from raping me. Penn stopped him.”

  The officer with red hair mumbled, “Greg will be taken in for questioning, too, once he’s been cleared at the hospital.”

  “Hospital?” Elle threw her hands up. “Are you kidding me? He’ll have a few bruises. He’s over-acting the entire thing.”

  The office shook his head. “Reports of a bruised larynx and broken ribs have been confirmed by the doctors. It’s a serious matter, Ms. Charlston, and both parties will be dealt with.”

  At least I’d hurt him.

  He deserved to be in pain.

  The rookie sidled up to Elle. My hackles rose as she said, “When you’ve returned home and eh, recuperated.” She looked at the state of Elle’s undress. “You’re required to come to the station to submit your statement about how Greg Hobson took you, what his intentions were in the cabin, and any outstanding issues we need to be aware of.”

  Elle spasmed with anger. “I can tell you all that right now. In exchange for letting Mr. Everett go.”

  I chuckled. “Come on, Elle. You know from experience they won’t do that. Just leave me like you did the first time.”

  Her hands wedged in her stomach as if I’d physically hit her. “Do you think I’m that heartless?” She moved closer, dragging my gaze to her perfect body and just how fucking much I suffered when it came to her. Love her. Hate her. Adore her. Abhor her. I could never win.

  Because I wasn’t telling the truth.

  The truth was I’d never felt like this for anyone.

  Ever.

  I’m in love with you, you chocolate-kissing, night time stealing, gorgeous girl. And I’m pissed as hell about it.

  My shoulders straightened. I would never tell her because she hadn’t earned my truth. The only person who had was Larry.

  Fuck, Larry.

  I had to talk to him the moment I was allowed a phone call.

  The ginger officer guided me toward the stairs. “Time to go.”

  “Penn, please!” Elle wrung her hands. “I believe you. Don’t punish me for fearing the worst.”

  Was it wrong of me to want her to hurt just a little? To make her feel how awful it was not to have someone trust you.