Once You’re Mine: Chapter 29

There will be no more running or escaping. At least, not tonight.

Hayden made sure of that by carrying me to and from the car, as well as securing the child lock feature. I sit with my head leaning against the headrest and my eyes closed. Right now, I can’t bear to look at him, at the devastatingly gorgeous man who swept into my life like a hurricane. He’s pulverized the emotional barriers I built when my father died, and my heart sits at the center of everything, like a trophy waiting to be claimed.

Or crushed.

Is it possible that he used the word “possess” because he means to keep me close in a way that he doesn’t understand just yet? Knowing bits of his childhood, it’s possible Hayden isn’t familiar with how to function in a healthy relationship. Especially one that involves heightened emotions such as desire, jealousy, and uncertainty.

I may not have much experience, but I’m certain I’m further along in that regard. Even so, I recognize this for what it is: he’s desperate to have me.

Is this some impulsive decision that he’ll regret in the morning? Or is this something that’ll last more than a few hours? Perhaps a few weeks? At the cost of my body and my secrets.

Hayden’s made it clear he wants both.

The constant push-pull, hot-cold from him frays my nerves. I never know which version of himself he’ll choose to show me. The tender lover? Or the violent, overprotective man who thinks to keep me safe through controlling me?

Even so, I enjoy both sides of him.

Just as the Earth needs both the day and the night, the light and dark, so do I.

We pull up to a high-rise tower, steel and glass gleaming under a full moon. In minutes, we’re inside the elegant lobby, with me in Hayden’s arms. Again.

“I can walk,” I mumble, not wanting the man at the front desk to hear me. He’s already looking at me with keen interest. Is it because I’m barefoot and disheveled? Or due to some other reason?

“Your feet are bleeding, Callie.”

I look at Hayden, soaking in his profile while he strides toward the elevator. “They are?”

He nods, his jaw clenched. The tension in his body spreads, and his arms grip me tightly. I frown, unable to guess why he’s irritated with me.

“I didn’t mean to stain anything. I hope you’re not upset about something I wasn’t even aware of.”

He stops in the middle of the grand room to look down at me. I nearly shrink back at the fury etched into his features. “You think I’m angry about the interior of my car?” he asks.

I shrug. “It’s the only reason I can come up with.”

“What about the fact that I don’t want you to experience pain in any capacity unless it’s the pain of my cock driving into your cunt? What about the idea that you’re hurt because you’re so fucking scared of me that you don’t realize I would kill someone to keep you safe? Fuck my car. I want your blood on it, my cock, and anywhere else that’d mark me as yours.”

“Jesus.” My voice is breathy, almost non-existent. “Hayden, don’t.”

His gaze hardens. “Don’t what? Tell the truth? There are too many lies between us for me to continue adding to them. I’m done with that.”

He stalks toward the elevators with me in his arms, my mouth hanging open and my lungs squeezing as I gasp for breath. How can one man affect me so profoundly that I can’t control my own body’s response to him?

“My feet don’t hurt, Hayden,” I whisper against the side of his neck. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple bobs within his throat. I watch it in fascination, drinking in his masculinity. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I don’t know how to stop myself.”

My heart lurches in my chest. I rest my forehead in the crook of his neck and sigh, needing a moment to compose myself before I say something irrevocable. Something that has to do with the feelings swirling inside me and gaining momentum with every confession that comes out of his mouth.

We reach the elevator, and the doors glide open with a soft chime, revealing an interior paneled entirely in mirrors. My reflection is duplicated into infinity, surrounded by endless replicas that stare back at me. Hayden steps inside, and nerves zip along my spine at the idea of being in an enclosed space with him. Overhead, the soft lights cast a flattering glow, enhancing each reflection and revealing truth. The effect is both dizzying and disorienting, seeing myself as I am in this moment.

A woman who wants everything Hayden will give me.

Good or bad.

Pleasure or pain.

Joy or heartache.

I can’t leave without knowing how this is going to end.

The penthouse is a study in contrasts, mirroring the man who owns it. One minute Hayden is comforting me on his lap, and the next he’s filled to the brim with rage, the violence within him leaking out for all to see. The light and the dark, the two distinct entities inside him.

The place is similar, filled with stark blacks that are offset by pristine whites. In the living room are floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a view of the glittering city skyline, but inside is a smooth minimalism. A white marble floor stretches the length of the open concept, reflecting the bright colors just outside. The walls meet the windows in clean lines, painted a deep charcoal, and the furnishings are sparse, each snowy-white piece angled in front of a jet black fireplace.

Like Hayden, this place is perfection, but lacking in warmth. In the things that make it welcoming and inviting. A home.

“This is beautiful,” I say, more to myself than him. I highly doubt he’s concerned with my opinion, but being here resurrects memories from my old life, one full of luxury. I don’t miss the money as much as I miss the security it brought. Living in a place like this ensures I’d never lose a moment of sleep worrying about someone breaking in.

Like a stalker.

The thought dampens my enthusiasm of the opulence surrounding me. Not only that, but it brings about a worry I hadn’t considered before. Am I putting Hayden in danger by being here?

When he heads further inside, I tap his chest, bracing myself against the subject matter. And his reaction.

“Wait,” I say.

Hayden stops and looks at me, brows snapping together in displeasure and confusion. “What is it?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be here.”

“Because you’re scared to be here with me?”

I nod and his body stiffens against mine. “But not in the way you’re thinking. I’m scared for you.”

“Why?” he asks.

I bite my bottom lip and worry it between my teeth, unsure of how to communicate my concerns in a way that’ll get him to take me seriously. Or not too seriously that he explodes. There’s a fine line I’m walking when it comes to Hayden. He’s like a bomb, ready to detonate with a single spark.

“Stop that,” he says, his voice sharp. When I scrunch my face at him, he blows out a breath. “When you do that to your lip, all I can think about is fucking your mouth.”

“Holy shit.”

“Language, Miss Green. Why are you worried about me? And don’t give me some watered down version. I want the absolute truth.”

I open my mouth, close it, and open it again. “I think I have a stalker.”