Page 47 of Shadowed Spirits

He levels me with a glare. “I do.”

I narrow my eyes right back. “Why?”

“Because I know you’ve been hurt before!” he explodes.

I jerk back like I’ve been hit. “What?”

Regret flashes across his handsome face. “I know you’ve been hurt at school, Iz. I know at least one boy has tried to take what you weren’t willing to give. And I’d die before I’d ever make you feel like that. I know what I want is fucked up, and that’s why I keep it from you.”

All the color drains from my face. No wonder he doesn’t want me. He knows that I’m damaged goods. “Who told you? Levi?” My voice is barely more than a whisper, but he hears me just fine. The fact that he knows something happened with Mason, Richard, and Tyler is like a gut punch when I’ve tried so hard to keep it from him, partly to protect him. But partly because I’m embarrassed that I let myself be so weak.

Bishop’s expression gentles, and he strokes a thumb over my cheekbone. I jerk away from his tender touch, and he clenches his jaw. “No, sweetheart. It wasn’t him. I just put it all together the last time you stayed over.”

“Oh.” I feel myself start to shut down. My heart feels like it shatters in my chest, and it’s hard to breathe past the pain of him not wanting me. “I understand why you don’t want me.”

He rears back in surprise. “Who the fuck said anything about me not wanting you?”

“That’s why you don’t want to fuck me. I’m dirty and broken.” My words come out small as I tell him what I knew was true the first time Mason and Richard put their disgusting hands on me. Tears are tracking down my face, but I don’t have it in me to care, not when I feel so fractured and worthless.

Bishop’s eyes darken with fury as he fists my hair in one hand, forcing me to tilt my face up to his. He slams his lips down onto mine, and his tongue sweeps in to duel with mine. After a long minute of ravaging my mouth, Bishop pulls back, his chestheaving as he pins me with his intense stare. “Don’t you ever fucking say something like that about yourself again, Isabel.”

“It’s just the truth.” My voice is pitiful, even to my own ears, and I close my eyes to get away from all of it. From Bishop knowing, from how gross I feel, from all the memories trying to drown me.

“It’s not.” Bishop’s sharp words have my eyes snapping open. “Were you even listening to a goddamn word I said?”

I refuse to meet his gaze, not wanting to see revulsion in his eyes. “You said you wouldn’t fuck me the way you want because of what they did at school. Because you don’t want me now that you know.”

“Fucking hell, Isabel. That’s not what I said. I said I’m unwilling to hurt you further to satisfy my own twisted desires. There’s no way I would ever tie you up, take control from you, fuck you so hard it’s right on the edge of what you can handle, and push you past every limit you thought you had. Not when you’ve already been hurt by a piece of shit, who has a very short life expectancy once I find out who he is.”

“That’s why I won’t ever tell you. You’re not going to jail for me, St. James.” What’s left unsaid is that I’m not worth it.

He scoffs. “You seriously underestimate my ability to kill without being caught, which I’ve done too many times to count, if you think I’d go to jail for that.”

“That’s not even the point, St. James. The point is that I get why you don’t want me and won’t sleep with me now that you know I’m damaged goods.” I don’t blame him, not really. Sure, I wish things were different. I wish I’d been stronger or better to keep it all from happening in the first place.

He looks like he wants to shake me but settles for forking a rough hand through his hair in frustration. “What will it take to get this idea out of your head that’s so wrong it isn’t even funny?You need me to fuck you to prove to you how much I want you? How much I crave you?”

“I don’t want your pity fuck, St. James,” I grit out. “I don’t want a fuck with kid gloves on because you think I’m too weak and messed up to handle anything else.” I’d rather get my soul ripped out and sent to the Styx for all eternity than have a pity fuck from any of my mates.

He collars my throat with one hand, squeezing hard enough to limit my air momentarily. I’m pretty sure he’s doing it to scare me, so I stare at him unwaveringly. “So, you want me to fuck you like I hate you? You want me to risk hurting you to fulfill the fucked-up things I’m into? Because nothing about shoving my cock into you would have to do with pity, I can assure you of that.”

“I want you to want me, even though they touched me!” I scream at him while shoving at his chest, needing to get away from him and this. He doesn’t move an inch but lets me push him until I wear myself out. Giving up, I collapse back against the window. “I want you to treat me like I’m not broken. I want you to see me, not just all the ways I’m damaged. So, yes, I want you to fuck me the way you want, but I’m not whole enough for you to do that.” My voice breaks, and I close my eyes, not wanting to face the fact that he can’t see past what happened.

He growls and grips my chin, hard. Harder than he’s ever touched me. “Look at me, goddamn it.” I slowly open my eyes, unable to ignore his command, as much as I want to. “I want you more than the air I breathe or the blood pumping through my heart or anything else in this life or the next, Isabel. If fucking you the way I want is the only thing that’s going to make you believe that you aren’t damaged or dirty or unwanted, then I will. I’ll do anything for you, baby, even if it goes against my better judgment.”

Bishop doesn’t wait for me to respond. Instead, he lifts my arms and pulls my shirt off. He expertly unclasps my bra and lets it fall down my arms before spinning me around, so my face and breasts are pressed against the cool glass. The cold on my bare nipples causes me to jolt and try to pull back. Bishop flattens me back against the chilly surface as he steps up behind me, molding his warm front to my back.

“This is your chance, sweetheart, to back the hell out of this. Nothing about this is going to be gentle, and you deserve so much more for your first time.” When I don’t say anything, Bishop swears under his breath.

Then I hear him unbuckle his belt and slide it out of his pants. The anticipation of what he’s going to do and that anyone walking by could see has my heart beating hard and my breath coming in fast pants. He removes the hand from my back to pull both my arms behind me, bending my elbows at right angles and crossing one forearm over the other. He then loops the belt around my wrists a few times before securing it with a knot.

He tugs to make sure it’s secure. I try yanking my arms free, but he tied it too well. I don’t really want to think about where he got the practice tying knots like this, because him with anyone else makes me feel a little murdery.

When he steps back from me, I think he’s going to fuck me like this, where I can’t see him. For all my protesting that I’m not damaged, I begin to shake slightly, and my breath comes out in short pants as the memories try to flood me. I squeeze my eyes shut as I get flashes of other times I was pinned face down. Rough hands shoving me, sandpapery brick scraping my cheek, wandering hands pinching and bruising, warm tears dripping down my cheeks as I can’t free myself, too weak and powerless to make it all stop.

A sob gets trapped in my throat as Bishop spins me around to face him. I open my eyes, needing to see that it’s really him. Iwilt in relief against the window and lean my head back on the cool glass as I try to stop trembling. He studies my expression, his jaw tightening at what he sees, but he doesn’t put a halt to everything. Instead, he drops to his knees in front of me.

“I clearly don’t have any self-control when it comes to you, but I need you to know that this all stops if you say so. There’s never any point at which I won’t stop if you tell me to. You’re the one in control of what happens, even if you’re tied up or impaled on my cock. Understand?” I nod, the lump in my throat keeping me from speaking. “I need your words.”

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