Page 82 of Revere
IMAGINE WHAT I DID
JACOB
Patience is sleepingwhen I get back to the apartment. It’s been a week since her father disappeared, and with every passing day, I’m itching to get my hands on him more and more.
Gideon was ready for the House to turn on him because he disappeared without a trace in the night. With Sigma House’s resources, we’ll find him eventually. But each passing day has me wishing I hadn’t hesitated in making my move.
Gideon Lancaster needs to suffer for his sins, and I’m going to deliver that judgment even if it means scorching the earth to find him.
At least Ursa has been smart enough to stay put. She’s not much better than her husband, but since she’s technically not a member of the House, we’re limited in what we can do to her right now. Besides, her best use at the moment is in luring Gideon out. She was always his one and only weakness. Eventually, he’ll try to get to her, and when he does, we’ll be waiting.
I step into my apartment and lock the door behind me. The dim light in the entryway reveals a fleck of blood on my sleeve.Patience thinks I was at a university dinner, so I bundle that shirt into the trash before she sees it.
Soon, I’m going to have to tell her about my involvement with the House. About what I’ve decided in the aftermath of her father’s fall from grace. But given how thin her trust is at the moment, I can’t risk it just yet.
When she finds out, she needs to understand that she can hate me all she wants, but I’m not letting her get away. After all, I’m doing this for us.
Stepping into the bedroom, the calm hum of her steady breathing soothes me. So quiet. So pure. She doesn’t so much as stir as I slip into the bathroom and discard my clothes, washing off any blood I may have missed.
After Kole and Violet left LA early so that Kole could assist in the situation at Sigma House, Patience started sleeping at my apartment every night. At first, she tried to convince herself she’d go back to her place in the morning. But like the good girl she is for me, she quickly learned I wasn’t going to let her leave my sight.
When I step out of the bathroom, Patience finally stirs. She rolls onto her back, her blonde hair covering her pillow.
The sight of her in my sheets—in my room—draws out something primal. She’s mine, and I’m never letting her go.
My steps are silent on the carpet, and I stop directly over her, beside the bed. Her face is relaxed—peaceful. She quiets the chaos always raging in my head.
I’ve spent years with this storm brewing in my chest. Sinking in regret, thinking I’d lost the only person I’d ever love. But as I stare down at Patience’s sharp nose and puffy lips, I see the truth. What I thought was love in college pales in comparison to what I feel for this girl stretched out before me.
I’m addicted.
Obsessed.
She can try, but she’s never leaving me.
Not even when I become president of the Sigma House Council and force her into the world she’s trying to escape.
I understand when I’ve resisted it myself, but Gideon’s actions forced my hand. There’s only one way to bring order to the House—only one way to protect Patience when she’s her father’s blood—and that’s to accept my legacy for her.
Leaning down, I brush a strand of wavy blonde hair off Patience’s face. Sometimes I wish I could simply be the professor she thinks I am. That we could slip into this alternate life I’ve been living, undisturbed. Sometimes I wish my hands weren’t bathed in blood long before she was born. That I was what she sees instead of who I am.
Brushing my fingertips over her temple, I wish it were that simple. Except, we aren’t those people. She’s a girl who bears the scars of the House I’m destined to control, whose family I’ve vowed to destroy. And I’m her monster.
I reach for the sheet and slowly strip it off her perfect body. She’s wearing nothing more than a simple T-shirt and underwear. No evidence of a bra with how her nipples peak, pushing against the tight fabric. Her scars are on display, and even if she’s yet to tell me exactly how she got them, I’ve already imagined a hundred different ways to recreate them on the man I’m sure put them on her.
My fingers brush over a rugged groove at her knee. Almost as deep as the ones on her back. Patience sees her scars as imperfections, but all I see in her is beauty. Because as much as I wish I could take away the pain she suffered, they are a part of who she is—how she found her strength.
She’s only twenty, but her soul has seen more than one should in that many years. Something I can relate to. It’s one more reason she’s my soulmate.
My fingers slowly skate up the inside of her thigh as I sink to sit on the bed. Her eyebrows pinch in her sleep, and she stirs, but she doesn’t wake yet.
The only time she fully lets her guard down is when she’s in my apartment, and it’s stunning.
I tiptoe my fingers until I’m skating them over her underwear, over that perfect mound of paradise where I belong.
My index finger pauses between her legs, and I press against the wet spot already pooling on the fabric. Her body wants me even when she isn’t awake to fully realize it. Her hips lift, begging for more pressure, so I give it to her.
I hook my thumb under the fabric and slide along her smooth skin.
