The Bastard Prince (Crellids Book 1) Page 9

Blinking back my tears, I glared at the face of the inked devil staring back at me, the tattoo that covered the scars I knew were hidden underneath, before dropping my gaze to the words written across his lower back.

  De las cenizas de mi odio.

  From the ashes of my hatred, I will be reborn.

  "I wouldn't fall asleep if I were you," I whispered menacingly, narrowing my eyes at the beady-eyed, tattooed devil with the marijuana smoke wafting from the joint pursed between his lips. Strapped to the tattooed devil's back was a double shoulder strap, in his hands were two matching pistols, identical to the ones Trigger used for work. "You might not wake up."

  "My gun is on the nightstand," he said flatly, keeping his back to me. "Do your worst."

  God, where did he go?

  Where did I go?

  How did we end up like this?

  In a matter of nine years, we had gone from acquaintances to tutors, friends to allies, lovers to enemies, to this?

  "Aren't you scared?" I was so full of turmoil that it was hard to breathe. I glared at his beautiful body and felt an immediate swell of inner repulsion for the flutter of excitement that erupted deep in my womb. "You could die tonight."

  Silence.

  "You know I'm capable of taking your life."

  More silence.

  "You would deserve it."

  Nothing.

  Furious at being ignored, I leaned over his hard, naked body and snatched his gun off the nightstand.

  His body was ripped from head to toe and it terrified me.

  Because those muscles had been used against me.

  "Feel that?" I hissed, as I held the gun shakily and pressed the barrel to his temple. "It's not nice, is it?" I pushed the cool metal into his flesh. "To not be in control of your body?" Shivering, I steadied my hand. "To be at someone else's mercy?"

  "Don’t forget to cock it," was all he replied, keeping his back to me. "Like I taught you."

  Bastard.

  "Look at me!"

  He didn’t.

  Pushing on his big shoulder, I forced him onto his back and then straddled his naked body with mine. "Look in my eyes, you piece of shit –" Grabbing his big hand, I pinned it above his head before quickly reaching for the other hand.

  Trigger remained motionless beneath me, both pacifying and infuriating me by keeping his hands pinned in place when he could so easily overpower me.

  Like earlier.

  A sob escaped me at the memory of what happened in his father's lair and I cocked the hammer and aimed the gun between his eyes. "Bang, bang, Trig," I whispered, eyes locked on his as I held the gun in both hands. "Bang, bang."

  "All of this talking is not killing me, corderito," he replied gruffly, accent thick, watching me with an intense expression, hands still dutifully pinned above his head. "You can scratch me with your claws," he added thickly. "You can threaten my life – you can try to take it, if that heals what I broke." Stretching out beneath me, he made no move to overpower me. "Take what you need from me."

  "Fight me," I demanded, enraged by his comfort. "Fight me, bastard prince." Hacking up a phlegm ball, I spat on his chest, returning his earlier favor. "Fight your whore."

  He didn't.

  Instead, Trigger remained motionless beneath me, brown eyes searing me. This huge, powerful gangster who was twice my size was denying me what I needed most.

  Furious, I released a pained cry and grabbed his hair, yanking hard. "I said fight me, you piece of shit." Lowering my face to his, I glared into his eyes, wanting him to feel every inch of my fury. "Give me that, at least."

  "I will not fight you," he told me, brown eyes locked on mine. "Do what you must."

  "Guns aren't my style," I reminded him with a sneer, forcing the tremor from my voice, as I traced the side of his face with the barrel. "Too loud." Dropping my gaze to the piercing in his nipple, I reached down and tugged hard, reveling in the discomfort that flashed in his eyes. "I like knives."

  "Open the drawer," he told me in a weary tone, inclining his head to the nightstand. "You'll find what you need in there."

  "Why are you being like this?" I hissed, voice cracking with both temper and emotion. "You know you can beat me. You know I can't win. Why won't you just be cruel?"

  "Never again," he vowed quietly. "So, do what you must, mi reina."

  "Fuck you!" I cried, throwing the gun at the wall opposite us.

  Scrambling off his lap, I scurried to the far corner of his bed and watched, incensed with heartbreak, as he rolled onto his side once more.

  "I hate you, Trigger Laperro."

  Clutching his pillow to my chest with a death grip, I nuzzled my cheek against the achingly soft fabric and released a choked sob, too full of pain to hold it in.

  He stiffened at the sound, muscles bunching together.

  I sniffled again, hiccuping another sob, and Trigger groaned into his pillow. "Stop crying."

  "I c-can't."

  "Try."

  "F-fuck you," I hissed, lashing out at him with my foot and connecting with his taut ass.

  He didn’t budge.

  Digging my heel into his butt cheek, I hissed, "You h-hurt me." Sniffling, I pushed on his back with all my might but I only ended up moving myself closer to the edge of the bed. "You m-make me s-sick."

  "Then what do you want me to do?" His voice was low and gruff, his words torn from deep in his chest. "How do I fix this?"

  "Go back in time and believe me, Trigger," I hissed, spitting my venom tinged outrage at him. "That's how you fix this!"

  "I can't, corderito," he groaned. "I fucking can't, okay? I wish I could, mas que la vida, but I cannot roll back the clock."

  "Then you can't fix this," I whispered, numb, soaking his pillowcase with my pain. Retracting my foot, I curled up in a ball. "It's too late."

  "A la mierda con esto!" Exhaling a frustrated growl, Trig rolled onto his back and glared up at the ceiling. "Joder mi vida!" He rubbed his face with both hands and slammed one fist down on the mattress beside him. "I should not stay here." I stiffened, panic-stricken at his words. "With you." He released another heavy sigh, shoulders slumping. "I will leave."

  "Wh-what?" I gaped at him. "Leave?"

  "Sí." Dropping his hands to rest on his bare stomach, he tilted his face to look at me. "I will make arrangements for you – to keep you safe." He swallowed deeply, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "You're under my protection now, so you cannot be harmed –"

  "You are un-fucking-believable!" I cried, trembling. "You do all of that – flex your muscles in front of your father and The Order and mark your territory like a dog – and for what, Trigger? To walk away? To leave me here with your crazy father while you hunt your demons down? You can't run from them, Trigger, and you can't chase them down, either, because they already inside of you! You can't run from me, either. You can't hide from this."

  "I am sorry for what I did to you, corderito. It was shameful and unforgivable of me. I am not running from my responsibilities," he growled. "But do not speak of my demons."

  "She's dead!" I screamed brokenly, losing my ever-loving mind by bringing up the one person I knew could draw the devil out of him. "She's gone, Trigger. You're not avenging her honor anymore. You're just chasing ghosts!"

  "And whose fault is that?" he roared back at me, shaking with barely restrained violence.

  Pain.

  It was everywhere.

  "I was in the wrong tonight," he amended, attempting to calm himself down. "I know I am a devil. I was cruel. I was evil to you. I own what I have done. But you still fucking lie –" Shaking his head, he snapped his mouth shut and ran a hand through his hair. Jaw clenched, he drew in several calming breaths before continuing, "You know what you did to me, corderito." A vein throbbed in his temple as he spoke. "Do not ever pretend that you do not know what you cost me that night." He ran a hand through his hair and hissed, "Do not pretend to be perfect."

  I withered up inside as a tsunami of guilt washed through me
.

  "What happened that night was not my fault," I croaked out, emotions bombarding me.

  "Wasn't it?" he replied dryly. "I think it is pretty clear what happened, and, more importantly, why it happened."

  "Trig." My shoulders sagged in defeat. "I didn’t mean –" I shook my head. "You know that I never intentionally told them where –"

  "You betrayed me, corderito!" he cut me off with a vicious snarl and then roughly cleared his throat. "Not in all the ways I once believed, and I will carry that regret with me until I take my last breath," he added in a gruffer tone. "But you still betrayed me – whether you meant to or not."

  "It wasn't how it looked," I squeezed out, feeling my heart constrict in my chest.

  "No," he sighed. "Nothing ever is, it seems."

  "Trig." I shook my head, denying the ugliness.

  "Tell me that I am wrong," he urged then, tone thick. "Tell me that I am mistaken, corderito. Tell me that you did not betray me – that you did not sell me out to him," he bit out. "Say it one time, only once, and I give you my word that I will believe you." Desperation tinged his tone. "Just tell me that I am wrong. Tell me that it was not you who gave up their location, and I will spend forever making the last two years and tonight up to you." He gave me pleading look. "Por favor, mi reina."

  I opened my mouth and then swiftly clamped it shut, unable to lie. "I can't."

  It was me.

  Whether I meant to or not, or whether I had been coerced into giving his secrets up, I was the one who had given vital information to his brothers.

  Betrayal and hurt flashed in his eyes, similar to the betrayal and hurt that was blazing out of mine, and he nodded stiffly. "I see."

  "But it wasn't what you think," I hurried to defend, shivering violently now. "But it – I didn’t – I trusted – and you weren't – it was not on purpose." Swallowing down a sob, I whispered, "I made a mistake."

  "Sí. As did I," he bit out in a tight tone. "And I, too, have many regrets. Unfortunately, regrets do not change what has come to pass."

  "Do you still want me to pay?" I whispered, watching his face carefully for a reaction. "That night, you said that you would make me –" I stopped short, unwilling to allow my mind to go back there. "Do you still want me dead?"

  "Do you still want me dead?" he challenged, staring right back at me, unblinking. "Corderito?"

  "Yes," I breathed, unsure if I meant what I was saying, but too overwhelmed to think rationally. "I want you to pay for what you did to me."

  "It is a strange world of irony we find ourselves in," he replied quietly.

  "Are you going to kill me?" I asked then, feeling my blood run cold. "Is that what this is about? Did you claim me to get rid of me? To make good on your vow?" I held my breath while I waited for his response.

  Several moments passed in tense silence before he finally spoke.

  "No, corderito," he said in a quiet tone. "If I still wanted you dead, then you would be dead."

  Another round of tense silence enveloped us then.

  I was reeling.

  He was brooding.

  "How did we get here, Trig?" I breathed, heart cracking in my chest, as I obliterated the silence. "Look at us." Shaking my head, I gestured around us. "Look at how we've turned out." I shrugged helplessly. "We had a plan."

  "I know exactly how I got here," he replied. "I made the age-old mistake of falling in love with a girl. Worse than loving her, I made the detrimental decision to make her my whole world. To make her my equal. I lost my fucking mind in her. I built an army for her. I rallied against my family for her. I killed for her. I stole for her. I lied, cheated, schemed, and swindled for her. To avenge her. To free her. I trusted her with my secrets. With my s–" Stopping short, he sighed heavily before finishing with, "The rest, as they say, is an unfortunate series of events that led us to this night."

  "One mistake, Trigger," I squeezed out. "I only made one bad, impulsive decision with you."

  "As did I, corderito," he replied quietly. "But, as we've both learned tonight, one mistake is all it takes to implode your own world."

  "Do you still love me?" I whispered, heart thumping hard in my chest. "Right now." Sniffled. "Do you love me tonight?"

  "Do you still love me?" he gave my words back to me. "Tonight?"

  Yes. "No." I shook my head, denying my feelings. "I can't."

  "Then we are at an impasse," he said before throwing off the covers and moving to climb out of bed. "You can stay here until I have suitable accommodation arranged for you. I will find another place to stay –"

  "No – you can't leave!" I blurted out, dragging him back down on the mattress. "You know what will happen if you leave me. If you go, your father will see it as a rejection. He will see it as you giving me back to him. You already did that and I barely made it out alive. Jethro won't save me this time. He's not strong like you. He doesn’t have that kind of power –"

  "A la mierda con esto." Groaning, Trig flopped onto his back and pressed the heels of his hands to his face. "Corderito, usted me está matando."

  "It's true, Trig, and you know it. My father's name won't protect me if that happens," I hurried to add, telling him things he was already more than aware of. "I'm damaged goods – they all saw. The only reason they didn't touch me tonight, or join in, is because they fear you. You're the wildcard. The one they can't read. It scares them and that protects us. If you leave me, it'll be open season with my body! I'll be put to work downstairs with the other girls." Choking out a sob, I added, "I'd rather die."

  "That will never happen," he snarled, chest rising and falling quickly now. "I will make sure you are well taken care of –"

  "You've already claimed me, Trigger," I spat, interrupting him. "You did that and you can't take it back." Sniffling, I pulled myself onto my knees. "I belong to you now." When he didn't meet my eyes, I leaned forward and roughly cupped his stubbly jaw. "We both know this is as close as it gets to marriage in our world, which means I'm as good as your wife," I hissed, digging my nails into his flesh and praying to all that was holy that it was hurting him. "If you didn’t want me, then you should have left me for your brother." Hurt speared me, making it hard to breathe. "At least Jet wouldn't abandon me."

  "I just told you that I will make arrangements for you. I will keep you under my protection, Ashton," Trig snapped, glaring up at me. "The fuck else do you want me to do?" he demanded, roughly shaking my hand away. "Lay beside you every night and listen to you cry? Watch you shake with fear every time I come within five feet of you? You hate me. You want me dead. We are a fucking disaster! Por el amor de cristo, I raped you –"

  "Stop," I begged, roughly grabbing his jaw again and then squeezing his cheeks together as if I could somehow stop him from saying the words that we could never come back from. "Don't say it –"

  "I. Raped. You," Trig strangled out, voice torn, eyes glued to mine.

  "No." Shaking my head, I clamped my hand over his mouth. "Please."

  Gently, he reached up and pried my hand from his mouth. "I did that to you," he continued, forcing me to hear him. "To my queen. I violated you. And I let them watch. A million lifetimes could pass and I still would never be able to come back from that."

  "I…I…" Tears dripped down my cheeks and I shivered, repressing the painful memories. "Someone had to do it."

  "So, you're glad it was me?" he demanded with a pained snarl, sitting straight up. "No, corderito, we made a deal a long time ago. I promised you that I would protect you. I swore to you that I would never allow a man to do to your body what I did tonight." His chest was heaving, his jaw still firmly gripped between my fingers. "Ashton, what I did to you tonight? What I did to your body? Inside it?" He shuddered. "I can never change or take it back. You can never forgive me for it. And I can never expect you to." He reached up and brushed a tear off my cheek. "We are fucked, sweetheart. We are completely and utterly doomed."

  "I know and I…I…" I shook my head. "But you still can't le
ave me." I leaned into his touch and then quickly checked myself. "I don’t – I'm not – you just…"

  "Say it," he ordered gruffly, dropping his hand to his side, still allowing me to clutch his face with my trembling hand. "Say how you feel, corderito. I deserve to hear it."

  "I hate you for what you did to me," I cried, knowing full well that I sounded like a broken record, but unable and unwilling to change my tune. "You hurt me, Trig." Conflicted, I moved to shift away from him but only ended up shuffling closer until my knees were brushing his thigh. "You tore me," I strangled out, panicked at the thought of getting close to him, but growing even more frantic at the thought of not getting close to him. "Inside my body." I sagged weakly, confused and lost. "You broke me from the inside out."

  "I know." He bowed his head and dragged in several shallow breaths before reaching up and gently prying my fingers away. "I can still call a doctor."

  "Can he fix my heart, Trig? Because that hurts the most," I whispered, chewing on my lip. "Can he fix yours?"

  "Para ti tal vez," he muttered under his breath. "Nada me puede arreglar."

  "English," I warned him, needing to be on the same level tonight. "I want your words."

  "I am not good with the words you want to hear," he admitted with a weary sigh before climbing out of bed. "If you want me to stay with you, I will stay. If you want me to leave you, I will leave." Eyeing me warily, he shrugged. "It is your choice, corderito." With a sharp exhale, he added, "From this moment on, it will always be your choice."

  "I need you to stay with me, not want," I forced the words out, disgusted with myself for valuing my life so greatly that I was making peace with sleeping with my rapist. "I need your protection."

  "Then you have it," Trig replied with a clipped nod. "But I need something in return from you."

  "What?" Instantly wary, I tipped my chin up and waited for his demands.

  "I need you to come with me now," he said, moving to the door of his ensuite bathroom and flicking on the light. "I need to clean you."

  "You're not touching me again," I warned, panicked, wrapping my arms around myself. "Not one fucking finger."

  "Then you clean yourself," he shot back heatedly. "But you will show me."