All Chapters of Bite my Tongue: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

29 Chapters

The Hand

A hand fists in my hair.Hard. Violent. Yanking my head back so sharply that I choke on river water."What the fuck do you think you're doing?"The voice is a snarl, low and furious and terrifyingly familiar. I thrash, trying to pull free, but the grip on my hair is unbreakable, an iron chain dragging me backward, dragging me toward the shore."Let me go!" I scream. "Let me go, let me—"Another set of hands—different hands, larger hands—pries Emery from my arms. She shrieks, a high, terrified sound that cuts through me like a blade, and I fight harder, clawing at the arm that holds me, kicking at the mud."No! Give her back! Give me back my sister!""Shut up." The voice is right against my ear now, hot breath and cold fury. "Shut your mouth before I shut it for you."I am dragged out of the water and thrown onto the muddy bank. I land hard on my side, my bruised ribs screaming, river water streaming from my clothes and hair. I gasp for breath, coughing up water, my whole body shaking

Terms and conditions

The office is enormous. Floor-to-ceiling windows, a desk of dark wood, leather chairs that cost more than everything I've ever owned. Kael gestures for me to put Emery on the couch in the adjoining room, and I do, tucking the blanket around her small body. She stirs but doesn't wake. I press a kiss to her forehead and leave the door open. When I return, Kael is standing by the window, looking out at the city. His wet clothes are starting to dry, but he hasn't changed. He doesn't seem to care. "You're a debt collector," I say. My voice is steadier now. The exhaustion has numbed everything. "That's what you do, isn't it? You collect debts for Draven Biotech." "I'm the heir to Draven Biotech," he says without turning around. "The debt collection is a small part of the empire. But yes. When a debt is significant enough, I handle it personally." "And my father's debt was significant." "Not particularly." He turns to face me. "But when my men reported that the debtor had fled and left b

The Contract

The car ride back to the apartment is silent. Emery sleeps against my chest. The Beta doesn't speak. I stare out the window at the gray city and try to process everything that's happened in the past twelve hours. The bar. The stranger. The bite. The river. The rescue. The contract. The marriage I just agreed to. The apartment feels smaller when I walk back in. Smaller and darker and more pathetic than it ever has before. Maybe because I'm seeing it through different eyes now. The eyes of someone who knows she's leaving it behind. I lay Emery on her mattress and tuck the blankets around her. She murmurs something in her sleep—something about ice cream, about blue tongues—and my heart cracks open all over again. "I'm sorry," I whisper, brushing a curl from her forehead. "I'm so sorry, baby. For everything. For the river. For tonight. For all of it." She doesn't stir. I sit beside her mattress for a long time, watching her breathe. The sun is fully up now, pale light filtering thro

The Heat Begins

That night, I cannot sleep.The bed is too soft. The room is too quiet. The penthouse hums with a silence that is louder than any noise, and every time I close my eyes, I feel the bond pulsing in my chest like a second heartbeat. Somewhere in this building—maybe in the room at the end of the hall, the one Mrs. Hartley did not show me—Kael Draven is sleeping. Or not sleeping. I cannot tell which.I get out of bed and walk to the window. The city glitters below, indifferent and eternal. I press my palm against the cold glass and think about the last time I was alone in the dark like this. The night before the river. The night before the bite. The night when I thought the only way out was down.I have not taken my suppressants since this morning.The thought creeps in, unwanted. It has been almost twenty-four hours since my last dose. Already, I can feel the difference. My skin is warmer. My senses are sharper. The scent of cedar and steel that permeates the penthouse is stronger now, mo

The Last Box

I think about the apartment. The mattress on the floor. The hot plate balanced on the crate. The landlord's notes slipped under the door. The life I am leaving behind. It is not much of a life. It has never been much of a life. But it is mine. The only thing I have ever had that belonged to me alone."No," I say. "No problem."He studies me for a moment longer, and I feel his gaze like a weight on my skin. Then he stands, buttoning his jacket, his movements precise and unhurried."My driver will take you back to collect your things. Pack only what you need. Everything else will be provided for you at the penthouse." He pauses at the door, his hand on the frame. "And Arielle? The suppressants. You'll stop taking them."My blood goes cold. "What?""You heard me." He does not turn around. "You've been abusing black-market blockers for years. Your scent glands are damaged. Your cycle is unstable. The estate physician will need to assess you, but the first step is stopping the poison you'v

The Gilded Cage

The penthouse is nothing like I expected.I thought it would be cold. Sterile. A concrete box with expensive furniture and no soul. But it is worse than that. It is beautiful.The elevator opens directly into the main living space—a vast, open room with floor-to-ceiling windows that show the entire city sprawled below like a glittering carpet. The floors are dark wood. The furniture is sleek and modern, all clean lines and neutral tones. A staircase curves up to a second level. The kitchen gleams with marble and chrome. Everything is spotless. Everything is perfect. Everything smells like him.I step out of the elevator, and the scent hits me like a wave. Cedar and steel and that electric charge, the one that makes the hair

The Tide and the Anchor

That night, I dream of drowning.Not in water. In tide. A great, dark tide that pulls me under and spins me around and drags me toward something I cannot see. The current is too strong to fight. I kick and claw and scream, but the tide does not care. It pulls me down, down, down, and just when I think I will never breathe again, I feel hands on my body. Strong hands. Familiar hands. The hands of the Alpha who marked me.I wake with a gasp, my body on fire, my sheets soaked with sweat.The clock on the nightstand says three in the morning. The penthouse is silent. Emery is asleep. Mrs. Hartley is off-duty. And somewhere in this building, Kael Draven is sleeping—or not sleeping—and I can feel him through the bond like a presence in the dark

Kneeling

He nods and steps back, giving me space. He gestures to the couch. "Sit. I'll make tea."I sit. He makes tea. The heat burns inside me, but for the first time in days, I don't feel like I'm drowning.Maybe that's the scariest part. Not the burning. Not the ache between my legs or the way my skin feels like it's been stretched too tight over my bones. The scariest part is that when he's near me, the drowning stops. The screaming in my head goes quiet. The bond stops feeling like a chain and starts feeling like a lifeline.I don't want a lifeline. I've never needed one before.The kitchen is silent except for the soft clink of porcelain and the whistle of the kettle. I w

Scenting

He leans forward slowly, giving me time to pull away. When I do not, he tilts his head and presses his cheek to mine. The contact is feather-light, barely there, but it sends a cascade of sensation through my body. His scent wraps around me—cedar and steel and that electric charge—and my Omega instincts surge up from the depths where I have buried them.I gasp. My hands grip the arms of the chair."Easy," he murmurs against my ear. "Breathe through it."He rubs his cheek against mine, marking me with his scent. It is not sexual. Not yet. It is grounding, calming, like a weighted blanket on a nervous system that has been on fire for days. The bond hums in my chest, louder and louder, and for the first time since I signed the contract, the hum feels almost peaceful."There," he says, pulling back slightly. "Better?"I nod. My voice has abandoned me.His eyes search my face. The sharp lines of his jaw are illuminated by the dim city light filtering through the windows. His lashes are lon

Interruption

He stands, pulling me to my feet. The tea cup falls from my lap and lands on the carpet, forgotten. He backs me up against the wall, his body pressing against mine, his hands on my hips, his mouth hovering inches from my ear."You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that," he growls."You've known me for three days.""Three very long days."I laugh—an actual laugh, startled out of me by the absurdity of it. He pulls back, his eyes searching my face, and something in his expression softens."There she is," he murmurs. "The girl who threw a pillow at my head."

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