Bloodbound: The Alliance
Chapter 105 - 107

Chapter 105: Chapter 107

Kelsey POV

"Okay, no that does sound sus," I say as we pace together, back-and-forth in feverish parallels, as I try to make sense of the senseless. "But if your dad lied about what he was really doing—obviously. And your brothers chose to go with him—"

She stops jarringly and raises a warning finger at me. "Kelsey. No."

"Not a dog," I remark with mocking humour, then I adjust my tone to a tenor of solemn observation. "Your brothers were glued to your side. It had to be something important that drew them away from you."

"The cartel, apparently," she says as she reverses to collapse on the foot of the bed. "I can’t believe this is my life now," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper, carrying the weight of disbelief and resignation. "Arranged marriages, billionaires, criminals, betrayal, Botan." Each word falls like a stone, and her gaze drifts, unfocused, as her fingers trace the scar carved into the groove between her thumb and index finger. "Gunshots," she adds, the word barely escaping her lips, and the sound is enough to chill the air between us.

Her physical recovery has been remarkable; that much is undeniable. But her mind tells a different story. Avara shared everything with me—or so she claims. Still, her pain remains her own, a chasm I can only glimpse into, not cross. Those wounds, assaults on her body and psyche, are hers to bear alone. No matter how much I would want to shoulder it al for her.

"You know..." I tread carefully, watching her face for any sign of resistance. "You never talk about getting shot."

The comment breaks her stupor, her eyes snapping to mine, sharp and unguarded. "There’s nothing to talk about," she says briskly. "I don’t even remember most of it. But that’s not what kept me up all night."

"Colton?" I venture, my voice hesitant.

Her jaw tightens, and a bitter smile curves her lips. "He had something planned all along. Botan’s involvement... that made sense, considering Haru’s history with my father. But Colton?" She shakes her head. "Now we know the Vacherons are dirty—deeply dirty. And he’s planning something with my father that he’s clearly unaware about. I just... I need to know what."

"Do you, though?" I press gently, my concern spilling into my voice.

Her eyes snap back to mine, colder now, the light in them dimmed. "I need to know how much danger my family is in. Secrets or not, they’re still my family. If we’re caught in Colton’s trap, we need to get ourselves out. And when he’s done using us?" She scoffs, her voice low and lined with steel. "I don’t want to find out."

Her grim certainty draws out my unease. "You don’t think he’s capable of that?"

"Naïve," she says curtly. "You’d be naïve to think that and I’d be a fool to agree with you." Her gaze locks with mine, and for the first time, the pure light I’ve always associated with her—since she was a child—has vanished. Her voice drops, weighted with a sadness I can’t touch. "I never thought my father could be part of a criminal syndicate. Or that my brothers could support him. Or that I..." Her voice trails into silence, her pain too raw to articulate. Then, almost inaudibly, she adds, "You’re the only one. The only true and untainted thing in my life."

I move closer, perching on the edge of the bed, and take her hand. "Then we do what needs to be done," I say firmly. "We figure out what Vacheron is planning with your father."

A faint smile touches her lips, fragile but genuine.

"Any guesses where that elevator leads?"

"Private study," she speculates. "Over our time here, I’ve only seen him go to the elevator sparingly. It must lead to his primary office. His bedroom is on the same floor as his sons but in the east wing."

"Then we start there."

She nods, her expression sharpening with purpose. "First... we’re going to need that ring. And hopefully we’ll find something that tells us what Colten won’t."

***

That night—late night, Avara and I skitter down the corridor.

"Do you think Landen and Vance know about what their father is in?"

Avara thinks it over for less than a moment. "Landen has never wanted anything to do with him or his enterprise, but will happily leach. And Vance—"

"Uh, oh," I tease.

"What?"

"Since you guys are... you know. Maybe your judgment... favours one side. Or should I say, one position?"

My torso lurches when she elbows me sharply in the gut. Frankly, I’m too impressed to be mad.

"Vance is like his father and, like most sons who emulate their fathers; they also want their approval. That means pleasing him," she whispers objectively. "Truthfully, I can’t say, but I would love to believe he is better than that."

"Love to believe, hey?"

She lifts her elbow with a playful threat as I dart away, muffling my laughs.

We move cautiously, keeping vigilant because the security team is stationed outside, but I’ve seen them inside before. Recklessness isn’t an option. Colton’s master bedroom is impossible to miss—a cavernous space sealed behind an imposing pair of Byzantine double doors that radiates regal power.

"You should stay outside and keep watch," Avara whispers, glancing at me.

"No way," I whisper back, frantic. "If a guard comes by and sees me just standing here at night like some weirdo, they’ll definitely investigate."

"Fair point," she concedes.

We slip inside together. The air is heavy and still, and relief washes over me when we find Colton alone in his room, seemingly asleep. His massive bed dominates the space, his broad back turned toward us. Shadows play tricks in the dim light, but his silhouette—defined by his muscular frame—is unmistakable. My pulse drums steadily in my ears, each beat loud enough to echo in the silence.

I motion for Avara to move forward alone, and she gives me a mock glare before stepping cautiously toward his side of the bed. I stay on the opposite side, watching her from across the room. The anticipation is suffocating, every moment stretched taut with the possibility of disaster. My breath is shallow, my heart a slow, thunderous beat.

Colton stirs, striated muscles rippling. At first, it seems like an unconscious shift, but then his voice cuts through the silence like a blade. "... Avara?"

Panic jolts through me as I drop to the floor faster than you can say ’caught.’. I clap a hand over my mouth, pressing myself into the floor as tightly as possible. Avara stiffens but recovers quickly, her voice cracking slightly.

"Mr—Colton. I know how this must look. I know this is... peculiar."

"If you were anyone else, I would’ve already subdued you for my security team," he says, his voice calm yet commanding, as always. "But I’m far too curious to know what brings you into my bedroom at this hour?"

Avara shifts on her feet, her nervous energy palpable. "That’s... a good question."

I flatten myself further, silently praying for her to find her words. Army crawling under the bed, I position myself where I can just see her legs, knees locked in place.

"Is there an emergency?" Colton prompts, his tone softening slightly. "Are you unwell?"

"No, no, it’s nothing like that," she stammers. "It’s just... my question is sensitive. Intimate, even. And I thought I could only ask it at a time when everything is still. I’m so sorry to wake you; I know how inappropriate and strange this must seem. I just didn’t know what else to—"

"Avara," he interrupts gently. "It’s alright. I’m flattered that you feel comfortable enough to approach me like this. Ask what you need to."

Her hesitation hangs in the air like a fog. "It’s more of a confession," she finally says, her voice quiet but steady. "I think... I’ve fallen in love with Vance."

Colton doesn’t react immediately, his silence stretching unbearably. When he speaks, his voice is cool and detached. "Then I’m not the person you should be telling this to."

"No, you see... well, this is the weird part."

She inhales a steadying breath. "Vance is not the playboy like Landen, but I don’t think it makes him any more innocent. Just better at hiding his... proclivities. And I’m... inexperienced, and this is a subject I would ask my mom, but I can’t. And obviously I can’t ask my dad or brothers about this. But I wanted to know how or what to do to please a man?"

"A true man would not need you to please him."

"Yes," she says faintly. "But I still want him to... enjoy himself."

"The true key to pleasure is obedience," he says.

"Like, letting him talk me through it?"

"Something like that. Want me to show you?"

I gape, then I cover my hands over my wide-stretched mouth.

"Show me?" she repeats carefully.

The mattress groans as he moves out of the bed.

"After you," he says.

"You want to get on the bed?" she asks bluntly, as if she’s notifying me and questioning him at the same time.

"Best way to learn is to do," he says ominously, and adds nothing to give her the impression of choice, but neither does he force her.

Avara’s feet disappear as she climbs onto the bed, and the mattress yields when Colton brings his weight on it. I can’t see, but it sounds like he’s repositioning her, the bed rocking with every deliberate motion. Seconds later, a strip of fabric flings off the bed to land on the floor. I squint my eyes and soon it shapes itself in my dark vision—underwear. Ensued by men’s pyjama pants and boxers that slip over the edge. I retract my head, my eyes exploding—even larger when I hear Avara’s shocked gasp, followed by instant cries she can’t hold back in what sounds like the hot throes of vehemence and violence.

Colton’s breaths are heavy, primal, a ragged need echoing through the room like a beast savoring its long-awaited prey. It is not merely the satisfaction nor the fleeting thrill of pleasure—it is something deeper, a raw and unbridled ecstasy, the rapture of finally claiming what sounds like he has yearned for most, what he has craved for longer than this spontaneous moment.

I edge out from underneath the bed. Careful as I poke my head from out below to peer at the scene from the foot of the bed. Colton’s rear is facing me with his knees on the bed, and like a savage he has seized Avara by the hips with her ass up—ravaging her from behind as she screams for him to be ease, to slow down—stop, but it’s like he can’t. His face tilts up, eyes closed in breathless bliss.

Colton Vacheron, the epitome of sophistication devolved to such savagery that his uncontrollable hunger makes him into. The worst part, it seems and sounds like he doesn’t want to hurt her—he just can’t help himself.