Arranged love

“That’s a good thing,” I breathe.

“I was going to say yes.”

I swallow nervously. He shifts onto his left forearm and looks down at me. His right hand cups my cheek. “I didn’t realize it until this morning. When I received the call that your bar was on fire. For a moment, I forgot you were standing in my bathroom.” His eyes search mine. “I understood what I’d be losing. If someone hurt you.” His hand drops to my chest, and he places his palm on my skin, feeling my heart race. “If someone took you from me. Alexa … I don’t need you to feel the same way.” He gives me a smile as if he won a bet. “But I want you to understand that …” He leans down and tenderly kisses my parted lips. “I’m in love with you. And when a King finds his queen, he’s one hundred percent committed.” Pulling away, he cups my face.

I open my mouth, but his lips find mine again, and before I know it, he’s back on top of me. I’m desperate for him.

His touch.

His words.

His love.

I never thought it would feel like this. Like I’m the only woman in the world. Nothing before him ever mattered.

CROSS

I SHOVE MY father back, and he hits the podium, knocking it over.

He stands, rubbing the blood off his chin with the back of his hand. “Is that all you’ve got, son? I’ve been training you for years now, and you’re still a weak little boy.”

I rush him again, this time, bending my knees and picking him up over my shoulder. I throw his body down onto the floor and hear bones break.

His laughter bounces off the cathedral ceilings, and they make my skin crawl. “You’re fucking pathetic,” I spit at him. I walk away, giving him my back. Going home. My mom needs me there. If that’s where Mr. Reed even took her. She needs to know that she can leave his ass. Why the fuck has she stayed this long anyway, money? Money isn’t everything.

“You know.” He laughs roughly, “She never once stood up for you.”

My feet come to a stop, and I slowly turn around to see him still sitting on the floor, leaning up against the fallen podium.

“It was her idea, actually.” He pulls a cigarette out of the inside of his leather jacket and lights it up. Putting it to his lips, he takes in a big drag and then lets it out. “Do you know why you were born, Cross?” He calls me by the nickname I was given when I was younger due to the kids who saw the scars on my back that he gave me. “You were born for a purpose, son.”

I snort at that. “No one was born to burn.”

“You were born because your mother wanted a baby who would pay for our sins.”

I look away from him, not wanting to believe what he says, but deep down, I know it’s true. She has never tried to stop him from hurting me. She’s never been nothing more than a doting wife and a pathetic fucking mother.

“You don’t live in this world without paying debts, son.” He gets to his feet once again. “Get used to it. The debts will get too big to pay with your own flesh.” With that, he drags himself back to his office.

I’ve fought him a lot over the years. Most ended in me getting my ass kicked. But he’s gotten older, slower, weaker. Where I’ve grown bigger, stronger, angrier.

I go to leave but stop staring up at the front of the church. I’ve been a prisoner to this place ever since I was born. The crosses, the burns and the humiliation.

“Men don’t kneel for forgiveness. They kneel for humiliation.” He once said to me.

My hands fist and I know that if I don’t stop it now, it’ll never end. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not until he’s dead. I’ve been praying for years he’d die. God never listens. If my father can stand in front of a congregation and pretend to be God, so can I.

I make my way to the office and storm in. He’s sitting at his desk, looking at his computer. “Go home, son,” He dismisses me without looking up. “You can repent tomorrow.”

“That won’t be happening.” I state, pulling my Zippo out of my pocket that my mother gave me all those years ago. “It’s time you pay for your sins father.”

“What are you doing?” He jumps to his feet.

Picking up a book off his bookshelf, I rip the pages out, then toss it to the floor. It’s all ancient biblical shit that he doesn’t even believe in.

“Everything must look perfect,” my mother always tells me. They’re just props.

“Cross! Stop!” he snaps.

I do it to another one.

He rushes me, slamming me into the bookshelf, but I lift my right arm, elbowing him in the face. He cries out, holding his nose and falling onto the couch.

“You must learn to endure pain, Father,” I say the same thing he once said to me while I kneeled in this church. “It’s time you pay your debt.” I light some papers on fire and toss them to the floor next to the ripped books. They catch fire immediately. Then I light a few more on the shelf for safe measure. I don’t want him putting it out. Then I’d have to start all over.

“Cross.” He reaches out to me from the couch. He coughs, as smoke is already filling the room, the fire growing bigger with each second. “Son, stop this.”

I walk over to him and rip the chain that holds the cross from his neck. Pocketing it, I turn to the door not even looking back. “Learn to like the fire, Father. I hear it’s hot in hell.” Slamming the door shut, I lock him inside.

I sit straight up, breathing heavily and looking around aimlessly. Blinking, I remember it’s just a dream. Well, it was very real back then. Now it’s technically a memory. I can still smell the smoke and feel the heat. I hope the motherfucker is still burning.NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

Getting out of my bed, I make my way to the bathroom and turn on the sink. I splash some water on my face. Then cup my hands, taking a drink of it. I’ve maybe been asleep for an hour. After the night we had, I had to get some rest. I needed to lie with Alexa in my bed, knowing she was with me and safe.

“You okay?”

I spin around to see her standing in the doorway. Still naked from when we passed out earlier after we were done with each other.

“Fine.” I lie.

She walks up behind me and wraps her arms around me. “Thought things were different?” She questions. “If that’s true, then why are you lying?”

I turn to face her. Spinning us both around, I pin her back to the counter and pick her up, setting her ass on it. “It wasn’t a lie.”

“It wasn’t the truth,” she counters. “I want to see you.”

“You’re looking right at me.”

“No,” she says softly, placing her hands on my forearms and slowly running them up my arms. “The Dark King known as Cross.” They continue up to my neck, and she brings them around the front and grabs hold of the cross that hangs around my neck.

Instinct has my hand shooting out and gripping her wrist tightly, but she doesn’t flinch. Instead, she gives me a soft smile, her head tilting to the side as if she was testing me and I failed.

“Are you afraid I won’t love the real you?”

“No,” I say honestly. “I’m afraid that you will.”

She pulls back, and I let go of my hold on her, knowing this is it. She’s had her fun, but it’s over. I’ve been too honest with her and how I feel.

I step back to give her space, and she jumps down off the counter. But instead of leaving the bathroom, she steps into me. Placing her hands on either side of my face, she stands up on her tiptoes. “I’m not so innocent, Cross. I don’t need you to protect me.”

But I have to. No matter what I do now, I promised myself years ago I would never be my father-If I ever fell in love, I’d cherish her. I’d burn the world to protect her from people like him and myself.

She drops to her knees before me. My cock is instantly ready for her, and I let out a growl as she takes it into her hands. Mine find their way into her already knotted hair, helping hold it back from her face.

She opens up for me and licks up my shaft. I throw my head back and moan when she gets to my piercing. Her tongue gently plays with it, making me weak in the knees. “Alexa,” I call out her name, not even sure why. Other than just needing to say it.

Her hand grips the base of my cock while her mouth swallows it, setting my body on fire and fulfilling that craving I always have. I touch the back of her throat, and I lean forward, one hand having to hold the counter while the other remains in her hair. She picks up her pace, and I allow her to take control, letting her do whatever she wants to me.

Slow, fast, deep, or shallow, it doesn’t even fucking matter. This woman is my damnation. I’ve always known I was going to hell; now I know it’ll be her who sends me there. Because I will do absolutely anything for her. She doesn’t even have to ask.