Page 75 of Fatal Fantasy

“You’re so fucking pretty when you ride me, Carter. Come on, you’re so close,” he praises, the words raining down on me like a warm summer storm, lighting the fuse until sparks begin to fly, and I’m falling apart in his lap.

Just before my final detonation, he drops one hand to my stomach, the other wrapping around my back, and without breaking my form, he presses down hard, triggering a series of moans from my lips that start low in my chest, and erupt into screams as the orgasm rips through my body like wildfire.

“Oh Jasper, oh my god,” I breathe, but in a split second, he swipes his tongue across my lips, luring me into a kiss that swallows my every breath, whimper, and moan, fusing us into one as I attempt to come down from an unmeasurable high.

“You are the most powerful creature on this planet, my little warrior. Don’t ever doubt how much strength you possess over me, my brother, and this entire world.” He bites my lower lip, releasing it only when a small pool of blood stings my scraped skin, but he doesn’t skip a beat, delivering the sweetest words possible as I collapse against his chest.

“You are more than I deserve, but I’ve never had a better partner in death, Jasper. I love you.” I fade into the blissful bubble we’ve created, feeling nothing but content as the heaviness of our conversation exits, and the words he planted in my heart begin to blossom like spring flowers.

Finally, I feel like we’ve closed the dark chapters of our story, turning the page to a brand new beginning, but I know that what’s on the horizon is our biggest test, the one battle that could topple everything I’ve worked myself to the bone to deserve.

On my own, I earned this happily ever after, and I’ll be damned if my father is the one to hold me back from the greatness he’s sworn I’d become since I was old enough to speak.

It’s too bad that in order to achieve the feats I was trained to have, I have to take out the one person who built, coached, and nourished the monster that lives within my bones, it begging to be released as we chase the very thing I was born to own: the throne.

FORTY-ONE

TYSON

By the time we cross California state lines, the three of us are exhausted, and itching to get out of this car.

We’ve made stops, staying at hotels to catch a few hours of sleep, but for the most part, Massi and I took turns eating up the miles, racing to make it back in time for the Bloody Wedding – as Carter has so graciously dubbed it.

Now, we stand behind her as she faces her childhood home, and although Massi offered to scale the house, climb through the windows, and extract the things we need without her having to step foot on the property, Carter wanted to face this head on.

Most of the time, I can read her thoughts, and in this particular instance, while she’s afraid of the memories that live inside those walls, it’s one more thing she’s determined to conquer, but I’m always convinced of her strength, knowing that when her mind is set, it’s set in stone.

In about two days, Carter is expected to be at a church downtown, vowing to love a man ’til death do them part, but little does he know, that day is coming much sooner than expected.

“You okay, baby girl?” I ask, concerned that while she is the embodiment of all things tough, she has been eerily silent since we left our hotel this morning.

“I’m fine. Let’s get this over with.” She replies coldly, puffing out her chest and forcing one foot in front of the other, while Massi and I lower our baseball caps, keeping our faces covered and away from security cameras.

We stay two steps behind her, walking as if we’re her bodyguards, but in my bones, I know the risk we’re taking because if this plan goes wrong, if even one chef or maid alerts the Don that we’re here, we’ll lose the upper hand.

Trying to convince Carter of something is like screaming at a wall, though, Her Stubbornness claiming that this part of the plan was necessary, and that we were forced to follow along, or stay behind.

“Miss Cassini! Did you forget something? Surely I can have a car sent over to the Villas with whatever you need,” the gate guard smiles, his hands hovering over the access button, rather than his weapon, which is a positive sign.

“No need, Arch. My father sent these two to help me gather my things. How’s Angie and the kids?” She motions toward Jasper and I, both of us keeping our heads low, and I tune out the conversation they’re having, my attention focused on the house, noting if anyone is looking our way.

Since we’ve stepped onto the property, Massi has been dead silent, and I’m surprised he hasn’t tried to strangle Arch, the security guard, for speaking to Carter.

He’s been on edge since we reentered the States, muttering to himself about bombing this house, and everyone left inside solely because they were on the premises while she was being tortured in the basement.

It took a lot to calm him down, and so far, it seems like it’s worked, but if another staff member approaches us, I’m afraid he may snap.

Finally, after a few more traded words and laughs, the security guard opens the iron metal gates, and we follow the stone path to the front of the house as if we belong here.

It’s not lost on me how beautiful the Cassini property is, the landscaping and gardening absolutely pristine, but the house itself is monstrous, the u-shaped mansion boasting a statement of lavish luxury as we approach the cul-de-sac driveway.

Thankfully, the front door is unlocked, but nobody bats an eye as we pass two guards, and a maid vacuuming the entryway, even though it’s early as hell in the morning.

Carter greets them all by name, each person acknowledging her sweetly, and although these people were complicit in her imprisonment, most of them probably had no clue what was truly happening right under their noses.

They’re hired help, not actual members of the Family, and Carter has a soft spot for the staff, remembering that most of them have worked for her father since she was just a little girl.

“Up here, on the left,” she whispers, keeping her eyes forward, but skimming her fingers along the wall, tracing a path in the wallpaper like muscle memory.