Page 11 of Heartless Lord
Axel called me an uptight, OCD bitch whenever I complained about it, an insult that got him a punch to the jaw. Being used to pain, he usually laughed it off and picked up his clothes. In all honesty, he was kind of right. Keeping up with certain expectations and appearances poured anxiety through my veins, and I could be as rigid as a marble statue.
On the outside, I was Killian Davenport, Stanford Davenport’s intelligent, well-mannered, dutiful, and obedient stepson. I was the picture-perfect son of a senator, followingin his illustrious footsteps. No one even cared that I wasn’t a Davenport by blood anymore. Stanford’s approval was all they needed.
Without it, I was nothing.
Stanford never spoke the words into the ether, but we had an understanding. He could snatch his support and public praise away if I gave a less than stellar performance at, well, anything. He could kick me off the top of the mountain and into a gutter that would drown me in the poverty and grime I came from. It didn’t matter that I bore the same tattoo as he and Bass. My stepfather practically controlled the wheels of the Serpent and Dagger beast. He wastheLord.
But I’d make damn sure no one took away what I earned or what my mother deserved.
My outside was perfection, while my inside... that was another story. Impenetrable shadows swirled beyond the shiny facade, and dark memories created jagged wounds that longed to eat me alive. If I dropped the mask for even a second, everyone would see the terrible, incurable disease festering in my core.
I yanked a pair of jeans out of my drawer, my hands fisting in the material as images from my childhood sped through my mind. My mother’s screams pierced my eardrums followed by her anguished pleas for him to stop.
But he never did.
Phantom pain whipped across my skull as the coppery tang of blood coated my mouth. Alcohol and sweat filled my nostrils once again, making me gag. The stench of vomit and death choked the air. Those bloodshot eyes staring up at the popcorn ceiling would forever haunt me.
My real father deserved what he got. I hoped he was rotting in hell.
I’d find out one day when my time came. The bastard probably saved me a seat.
I shook off the nightmares of my past and dragged on my jeans. If I didn’t stop reminiscing about my wonderful years in San Carlo, Arizona, I’d be late to my first class of the year, and Stan wouldn’t stand for that.
But thinking about the place I’d called home until seventeen also brought up another defect buried deep inside. The one person I’d trusted the most had fucked up everything with her lies. She’d ripped my heart into pieces, stomped on the fragile bits with her tiny feet, and poked iron rods into the wounds she left behind.
Never again.
The mirror over my dresser caught my reflection, and I skimmed my fingers over the battered heart tattooed on my chest. Barbed wire and heavy chains wrapped the maimed organ, fastened with an indestructible lock that no one on this planet could open.
A key for this lock didn’t exist.
As I thought of her, green flames burned in my eyes, and my perfect persona slipped. I shoved unruly brown locks, still damp from the shower, out of my face and bared my teeth. Just a tiny memory of her had the cracks in my veneer showing.
The door swung open and Axel strolled in, munching on a giant breakfast burrito. “Hey there, Kill. You’re looking murderous this morning.” He flicked wavy, dirty blonde hair from his sun-kissed face. “Who pissed you off so early?”
“No one.” I stormed to my closet and snatched the first shirt my fingers grazed, coming away with a green button-down. “I was just thinking.”
His brow arched as he perched on the end of my neatly made bed while his looked like a bomb had gone off between the silksheets. “Maybe you shouldn’t think so hard. You look like you want to smash someone’s face in.”
I did. And anyone would have to do since the people I wanted to unleash my anger on weren’t here.
Axel pulled out a second burrito wrapped in a napkin hidden by the other monstrous one. “Eat some breakfast. You’ll feel better.”
“I’m not hungry.” Horrific images still inundated my brain.
“I insist.” He stood and closed the distance between us, trying to intimidate me with his broad body wrapped in powerful muscle. “It’s good for you, Killian.”
A smirk curved my lips. Axel was definitely wider and brawnier than me, but my sharp edges gained from childhood made me a dozen times more dangerous. Besides, for all his bluster, my roommate was a teddy bear on the inside. He’d made me breakfast for shit’s sake. No hardened asshole did that.
I snatched the burrito he offered, tore off the napkin, and took a huge bite. “Happy, Mom?” The rich, salty flavors of eggs, cheese, bacon, and potatoes exploded across my tongue.
Axel flicked a piece of potato off his Stonewall University Knights t-shirt. “Yes, I am happy. And don’t blame me. Your mom pulled me aside this summer and asked me to make sure her sweet baby boy was eating all his veggies so he could grow as big and strong as me.” He flexed his biceps, calling my attention to the mark on his forearm. The same tattoo of a serpent coiled around a dagger that inked my arm was also stamped on his.
We all had them.
“Fuck you. She did not.” I picked up the potato crumb and dropped it in the trash can. “Can you seriously not throw food on the ground, Ax?”
He shrugged and finished his burrito in record time. The guy could eat his weight in food and still be hungry. “You’re not still stressing about this year with Bass at the helm, are you?”
