Chapter 17 James stalked through his house, ignoring the way his conscience seemed to dog his heels. The time for regrets and second-guessing had passed. His fucking idiot of a brother had solidified that when he'd decided to prove his worth by killing one of the O'Malleys. There was no taking that back, even if James never would have given the order himself. It didn't matter that he'd planned on using O'Malley's oldest daughter as leverage to stop this shit in its tracks. O'Malley's oldest daughter. Carrigan. He turned the corner, picking up his pace when he heard male voices in the room he'd left her. Goddamn it, nothing was going right. He threw open the door, finding Ricky and two of his men circling Carrigan where she was cuffed to the chair. James didn't like the look on their faces one fucking bit. Ricky leaned in, close enough to touch. "I killed that piece-of-shit brother of yours. I shot him down in the street." Fuck. She flipped her hair, hitting him in the face. "Liar." He jerked back. "Bitch, I'll show you-" "Enough." All four of them froze, and James didn't blame them. He barely recognized the growl as his own voice. It sounded like it'd come from someone else. From Brendan. Before that realization could really freak him the fuck out, he strode into the room. "You three, get out." Ricky leered, though he didn't look nearly as confident as he had two minutes ago. It was all a song and dance for his boys-show no weakness-just like their old man taught them. But he was scared of James now. "I'm just giving the bitch what she deserves." Don't call her that. He clenched his teeth to keep the words internal. "Get. Out." Ricky hesitated, and finally laughed. "You want her first. I get that. But me and the boys want a turn when you're done." What the hell had happened to his sweet little brother who needed protection? He didn't recognize this man-this monster. But then, James barely recognized his own reflection in the mirror anymore. Brendan's death had changed all of them for the worse. It didn't matter, though. Brother or not, the only way Ricky would lay a hand on Carrigan was over James's cold, dead body. He waited, letting that truth seep over his little brother's face. Ricky's eyes went wide, and he practically scrambled out of the room. The door shut, and James sighed. He'd pay for this later, just like he'd paid for taking the whip to his brother's back. Maybe Ricky still would have gone after the O'Malleys personally... but maybe he wouldn't have. He finally looked up to find Carrigan watching him. She didn't look particularly afraid, which would be what he'd expect of a woman held captive by her enemies. No, she looked furious. "You have me here, so what's the plan? A little torture, maybe with some rape thrown in for shits and giggles." Her voice didn't waver, and hell if he didn't respect her for it. She must have been terrified out of her damn mind, but she wouldn't show a single slice of weakness that could be used against her. It had to cost her to keep it hidden-he of all people knew the cost of keeping that kind of thing locked down. "No." He moved around behind her to check the cuffs. They were tight enough that she couldn't squeeze out, but they weren't rubbing her wrists raw. He fished the key out of his pocket and unlocked them. He couldn't leave her here, because he couldn't afford to be here with her every second of the goddamn day, and it was glaringly obvious that he couldn't trust her with anyone else. "Come on." "Thanks, but I'm good." He ignored her, hauling her to her feet by her upper arm. It felt wrong-so fucking wrong-to manhandle her when he couldn't get those stolen moments at the club out of his mind. James shook his head, as if the motion could dislodge the feeling of her clenched tight around his cock. It didn't help. He wanted her again, more than he'd wanted any woman he'd ever been with. It didn't make a damn bit of sense, but even having his hand on the bare skin of her arm was enough to have his body roaring to life. Only ironclad control kept him from showing exactly how deeply she affected him. She was the one woman he couldn't have. He marched up the stairs and threw open the door to his room. It was the only place in the house that he'd guarantee no one would fuck with when he wasn't around, so it was a solid choice. But he couldn't shake the almost primal satisfaction of seeing her surrounded by everything his. Damn, he was losing it. He had to get his head on straight, because one fuck-even as mind-blowing as it'd been-didn't change a thing. She was the daughter of the enemy, and he'd just kidnapped her. There was no possibility under the sun in which she didn't hate him. Carrigan walked further into the room, and he couldn't help noticing exactly how little that tiny excuse for a dress of hers covered. It barely touched the bottom of her ass, and that curve was enough to make what little blood was left in his brain course south. "Stop staring at my ass." She stopped next to his dresser, seemingly fascinated by the shit thrown across the top. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Does your daddy know you leave the house dressed like that?" She snatched the lamp off the dresser and spun. James barely had time to register to move when she threw it at his head. He got his arm up just in time to take the blow but, fuck, that hurt. Carrigan wasn't done, though. She snatched the heavy ashtray he used to keep change in and flung it at him. "My daddy is going to skin you alive when he finds out what you've done." A boot hit him in the shoulder. "And I'm going to enjoy watching." That was enough of that shit. He caught the second boot and dropped it just as she grabbed the second heavy lamp on the opposite side of the dresser. "Don't you fucking dare." "Or what?" She brandished it, moving a step closer. "You're going to hurt me? Please. I know how this works, James. It's going to happen anyway." He hated that she said his name with such venom, but he wasn't about to become her whipping boy-deserved or not. "Drop it." "I don't think I will." She swung it at his head. He caught her wrist and wrenched the lamp out of her hand. "Christ, just stop." "Just lie back and take it, and it'll be over soon? Not fucking likely." She fought harder, trying to break away, but he wasn't about to let her get access to more shit to throw at him. James dragged her to the bed and tossed her onto it. He cuffed her hands to the headboard before she had a chance to hit him again. It was only then that he registered exactly how terrified she was. He froze, taking in the little shudders working their way through her body and her too-wide green eyes. "Carrigan-" "Just do it, okay? Just... get it over with." He jerked back. "I'm not doing shit." Her eyes were full of accusations and her anger practically crackled against his skin. "You have me here and helpless. You don't have to play that role anymore." "I'm not playing a role." Even if he felt like it more often than not in the last few days. "No one is touching you." He'd fucking kill them if they did. "Whatever you say." It bugged him that she didn't believe him, like a piece of sandpaper beneath his skin, scratching away every time he breathed. "You're safe here." She laughed in his face. "And you're obviously delusional. I'm not safe." There was something in her words, something that made him wonder if she was talking about this specific situation or in general. There was nothing he could say to change her mind. Hell, he didn't blame her for expecting the worst. He knew the reputation his old man had for prisoners, especially when he wanted to prove a point. It didn't matter their gender, either. But he still found himself wanting to reassure her. "Carrigan." He waited for her to meet his gaze. "You're safe here. I swear it." She turned her face away. "You know better than to make promises you can't keep, Halloran." Callie kept telling herself that it was time to come clean. Saying "I do" to Teague without his knowing about Brendan was selfishness of the highest order. There was no way he'd marry her if he knew the truth. But she couldn't make herself say the damning words. She wanted everything she'd said before. She wanted Teague. He'd been with her every step of the way through this nightmare, even if he didn't know the full story, and he'd proven time and time again that there was no better man in the world out there for her. She couldn't let that go. She cared about him too much. She wasn't particularly proud of that realization. She knew how she'd feel if the fault of Ronan's death had been laid at the feet of anyone else. There was no forgiveness. Not for that. She might not have been out for blood, but she would have effectively cut the responsible party off from everything they cared about. She would have done her best to break them. She couldn't expect Teague to react any differently, no matter how much her very heart cried out that she could trust him. She'd been responsible for his brother's death. It didn't matter if it was indirectly or not. He opened the door for her, his dark eyes filled with things unsaid. "Are you ready?" No. She opened her mouth, ready to spit the damning words at his feet, but then he kissed her. Teague's lips moved against hers as if she was his last bastion of hope in a world gone mad. She clung to him, trying to keep from losing herself. It was a lost cause. Her control always was when it came to this man. She would do truly unforgivable things to keep him at her side. She was proving that right now. Selfish. Stubborn idiot. Coward. Teague rested his forehead against hers. "This is the only bright spot in the clusterfuck we're currently neck deep in." Just like that, all her good intentions went up in smoke. She couldn't walk away from this man, even if she wanted to. And she desperately didn't want to. She'd deal with the fallout when she was forced to, and not a moment sooner. She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Shall we?" "Definitely. I'm not giving you a chance to get cold feet." He took her hand as she slid out of the car and shut the door behind her. "The judge already signed the paperwork, so we're good to go." They walked into the courthouse. Callie had been here a few times over the years, but it felt different now. She would be walking out the doors as a married woman. Trying to wrap her head around that fact just gave her a headache. So she didn't think about it. There were far too many things she tried not to think about these days. She occupied herself with filling out the paperwork, and then they were being ushered back to say their vows. The dim little room wasn't anything like she imagined their families had wanted for them. There was no bouquet, no family, no elegant white dress. She wouldn't dance with her new husband, staring up into his eyes and feeling her heart nearly full to bursting with love. It was strangely fitting. Teague repeated his vows after the minister, his gaze never leaving hers. His thumb stroked soothing circles on her knuckles, as if he knew exactly where her mind had gone. He finished with, "Till death do us part." Now it was her turn. She spoke her vows through numb lips, unable to summon even the smallest reassuring smile for him. Marrying Teague was what she wanted, but the fear that worked its insidious way through her threatened to send her to her knees. He will never forgive me. Her last words came out as barely more than a rasp. The minister moved on, his voice so monotone, he could have been reading from a phonebook. He did manage a smile as he pronounced them husband and wife, but it was a cynical one. He patted them on the shoulders. "Good luck." Callie blinked. That was... uplifting. She let Teague tug her over to where Micah and Emma stood in the first row. Emma's eyes were shining, but her son didn't look any happier now than he had been when Callie first asked him to stand as one of the witnesses. He shook Teague's hand, but his attention was solely on her. "Your father isn't going to be happy." "I know." But, as much as she didn't want to hurt Papa, she refused to let anything stand in the way of their doing this today. Her father most certainly would have objected. She turned to Emma and took her hands. "Thank you for being here." "I can't believe it. I knew you were all grown up but..." She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "Your mama would be proud of you, and your papa will be fine." Words tried to stick in her throat. She doubted her mother would be proud of any of the things she'd done, but marrying a man she cared about in the courthouse instead of having a fully Catholic wedding was the least of her sins. "Thank you, Emma." Teague's arm settled around her waist. "We should go." She nodded. "Micah, we're going to Teague's apartment." He'd proven his loyalty to her time and time again. She wasn't going to compromise it further by running off with her new husband and making Micah search for her. He nodded once and then stood with his mother and watched them walk out of the room. She was half-sure she felt his gaze on the back of her neck even after the door closed between them, but it was most definitely her guilt talking. They made their way through the building and out into the light. She couldn't breathe any better out here, despite the fact that there were no walls to close in around her. She pressed a hand to her chest. Oh God, what have I done? "Angel?" She looked up, the tired happiness on his face grounding her further. This was why she'd agreed to marry him-she'd never met a man who made her feel so incredibly safe and wanted and cared for. No matter how twisted up inside she felt, she wasn't simply going through the motions for the sake of their respective families. She wanted Teague as her husband. She just flat-out wanted him. That was it. The one thing guaranteed to quiet her mind and silence her worries. She chose him. It made all the difference in the world. She stopped next to his car. "Take me home, Teague." "With pleasure." He held the door open for her and moved quickly around to slide into the driver's seat. There was no need for words-especially when she didn't trust herself not to say something she couldn't take back the second she opened her mouth-but she slid her hand back into his. The trip passed far too quickly and not quickly enough. There was so much left unsaid between them, even beyond her confession that she never quite managed to actually confess. He turned the car off. "It will be okay, angel." It was a false comfort, and they both knew it. She gripped his hand too tightly, but she couldn't make herself loosen her hold on him. "I'm afraid." Those words cost her, but she fought to get the rest out. "This isn't over, Teague. I feel like it's just getting started." All my fault. "I won't let anything happen to you." It wasn't lost on her that he'd just lost a brother and he was comforting her. God, this was pathetic. She had to get herself together. She was better than this. She had to be. "It's not just me that I'm worried about." "I know. We'll put a stop to this. I promise." Words. They were just words. They shouldn't have the ability to calm her when she knew that he had as little control over this situation as she did. No matter what happened tomorrow, they had tonight. It would be enough. It had to be. She tried for a smile, but it felt broken on her face. "Are you going to carry me over the threshold?" "Of course." The trip up to his apartment door was a blur. Now that they were so close to being able to shut the door between themselves and the rest of the world, she moved more quickly, needing to surround herself with him. Teague swept her into his arms and opened the door in one smooth move. He kicked it shut as soon as they were through, leaving them bathed in the shadows of his apartment. And then he just stood there, looking at her like she was the most precious thing in the world to him. "I'm going to be the best damn husband to you that I can be, angel. I can't promise you much else with all the bullshit going on, but I can promise you that." He meant every word. Teague wouldn't hesitate to put himself between her and the rest of the world. She fisted her hand in the front of his shirt, her heart beating too hard. I love this man. As if just waiting for her mind to come to terms with the realization, the feeling swelled inside her, filling her completely, making it hard to breathe. I love him. She couldn't say the words aloud. Not yet. But she could show him. So she kissed him, slipping her tongue between his lips the second he opened for her. He didn't miss a step on his way to the bedroom, until he stopped next to the bed and let her body slide against his as he set her on her feet. He tangled his hands in her hair and tipped her head back, taking control of the kiss, gentling it to the barest brushing of their lips, as if he fully intended to take his time. As if she was priceless. She shivered. She wasn't priceless. She wasn't... He nipped her bottom lip, effectively bringing her back to the present. "Stay with me, angel." "Always." A promise she couldn't make, but this was the day for them. She unbuttoned his shirt, going slowly, relishing the way his chest felt beneath her fingers. The bruises looked better today. He was healing. He'd be okay. Thank God. All too soon she was at the waistband of his slacks. His hands caught hers. "Not yet." She didn't get a chance to argue, because he bent to unzip the side of her dress and then pulled it off, leaving her in only a pair of white panties. Teague's breath hissed out. "A month or a hundred years, I'll never get tired of seeing you like this." He traced a finger down her sternum, the look in his eyes stealing her breath. "Angel, I don't deserve you." It was she who didn't deserve him. She opened her mouth to tell him as much, but he hooked his finger in the top of her panties and towed her to close that last inch between them. The feeling of her skin against his chased every thought from her head. She let herself run her hands up his chest, marveling at the muscles that tensed beneath her touch. She stopped at the tattoo over his left pectoral, a twisting oak whose roots worked down his side and whose branches covered his shoulder. "Will you tell me about this one?" "I'll tell you about anything you want." He kissed her again, backing her to the bed and gently laying her on the mattress. "After." He moved down her body, stopping to pepper her breasts with almost worshipful attention. She dug her fingers into his hair, simultaneously wanting him to do more and never move, all at the same time. He sucked her left nipple into his mouth, raking it gently with his teeth. "Oh God." He chuckled against her skin, and her entire body went tight as he pulled her panties off and settled between her thighs. "Do you know how much time I spend thinking about doing this to you?" "Tell me." The command escaped before she could think better of it, but she was so happy it did the second he started talking. "You consume me, angel. It's the most welcome kind of distraction, but I can't get through an hour without thinking about you. Thinking about this." He dragged his tongue over her center, circling her clit. She thought about it, too. But more than the sex, she thought about Teague. Callie closed her eyes and gave herself over to the feeling of his tongue driving her closer and closer to orgasm. In this moment, she didn't have to make decisions about the future. She didn't have to contend with the riot of feelings in her chest, all centering on this man. She didn't have to do anything but feel. With one last long lick, he drew back, a smile spreading over his face at her involuntary sound of protest. "Impatient." "Tease." She watched him unbutton his pants and shove them off. He grabbed a condom from the nightstand and rolled it on, his gaze on hers. She shifted, her skin too tight, her body feeling like it was a thousand degrees. "Come here." "With pleasure." His weight between her thighs was almost comforting. Or it would have been if she wasn't so desperate to get him inside her. Teague didn't seem in any sort of hurry, though. He kissed her as if he had all night, as if he didn't have an inferno of desire inside himself demanding more. Callie hooked her leg around his waist, angling her hips so his cock notched in her entrance. He pulled back a little, giving her a look, but she needed him too desperately to keep playing this teasing game. Another time, perhaps, when it didn't feel like they were living on borrowed time that could be stolen from them without warning. "Please, Teague. I don't want to wait anymore." He pushed into her in one smooth move, bringing them as close as two people could possibly be, stealing her breath and her heart along with it. "Anything for you, angel." He moved, drawing out almost completely and then starting that slow slide back to completion. All the while, he cupped the back of her neck, and slid his other arm beneath the small of her back, bringing them impossibly close. Every stroke brought her closer to the edge, rubbing against her clit even as he filled her in the most perfect way possible. She clung to him, wanting to draw this out forever. But her body wasn't listening. Her orgasm crested, and it was all she could do to ride it out in his arms. He kept moving, drawing out the feeling until she was sure she couldn't take it any longer. Then, and only then, did his strokes become staggered and he followed her over the edge, burying his face in her neck as he came. He slid to the side and tucked her against him. "I'll never get tired of that, either." Against all reason, a laugh escaped. "I'd say that's a good sign, since you just married me." It wasn't real yet, probably wouldn't be for some time, but she liked the way the words sounded. She liked the idea of Teague as her husband even more. She lay with her head on his shoulder and listened to his heartbeat as their bodies cooled. "Will you tell me now?" He glanced at her. "The tattoos? Sure." She shifted off him so she could see the tree in its entirety. She'd seen it before, of course, but it was different now. Now there was time to truly see it. She traced the twisted branches that tangled from the trunk and over his shoulder. "Oak?" "Good eye. It's family. Strong and rooted deeply." That sounded sweet, but she stopped on the scar bisecting the tree. "And this? Did this come before or after the tattoo?" He hesitated, and she once again wondered if it was his father who had hurt him. From everything she'd learned of Seamus O'Malley in recent weeks, she didn't doubt he was capable of it. But... to raise a hand to his son? Let alone with what must have been a blade? It took a special kind of monster to deal out that kind of violence. She curled her hands into fists, trying to quell the sudden anger coursing through her system. You don't hurt the helpless and innocent. You just don't. For someone who supposedly held family above all things to do it... She wanted to hurt that man. She wanted to hurt him badly. "You don't have to tell me." "No, I want to." He covered her hand with his own. "My father isn't a good man. He didn't like the fact that I mouthed off to him when I was thirteen, so he decided the best way to deal with my attitude was this." A shadow passed over his face. "It was just one cut, and not a deep one at that, but I never forgot. That's the other side of family. It can be strong enough to stand in the face of any enemy that arises, or it can be the rot that eats away at your insides, weakening you until you're little more than a shell. Both tattoo and scar are reminders of that." Oh, Teague. She kissed the scar, because there was nothing else to do. If a time machine existed to allow her to save him from the hurts he'd experienced at the hands of the man whose one purpose in life should have been to protect him, she would have taken it in a heartbeat. But it didn't. There was nothing she could change but the future, and even that wasn't a sure thing. "The ones on my knuckles are my siblings." He waited for her to look up before he pointed to each in turn. "Aiden, Carrigan, me, Cillian, Sloan, Devlin, Keira." Her gaze landed on the one representing him. A flame. She knew that specific flame. She'd seen it before. "Saint Jude?" He grinned. "Yeah." Which meant the other symbols represented saints as well. She touched each in turn. It was such a different way to go about representing a family that he obviously had very conflicting feelings about. But he loved them. That couldn't be any clearer. She stopped on his bare ring finger. "This one?" "Well, angel, I left that one blank because I figured someday I might meet a woman I cared about enough to marry." He rolled back on top of her, grinning. "That one's yours." Mine. She kissed him, the riot of emotions in her chest only getting worse. She loved him so much it hurt to breathe. He took the kiss deeper, his hands sliding over her skin in a way designed to make her lose her mind. As he slipped a finger inside her, she had one last thought before pleasure bore her away. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Maybe he's right. Maybe things really will be okay. In "Accidentally Seduced the Billionaire Heir After Betrayal" by CrushReel, a tale of romance and revenge unfolds as our protagonist faces the aftermath of her husband's betrayal. After three years of separation, she uncovers a shocking truth: her estranged husband has fathered a child with his mistress. 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