Reviving Haven (30 page)

I pick up my dress and run down the stairs of the courtyard, just wanting to get away from Latch. I can hear him calling my name behind me. He follows me out to the courtyard.

His voice is filled with panic and remorse. “Please don’t cry, baby. Please.” He touches my wrist.

“You lied to me, Latch. You said you never wanted to make me cry. News flash—that
’s all you make me do.” I sit down on one of the chairs, exhausted from the entire ordeal. “I want to go home. Can you call Marlon?” I ask, not even looking at him.

“Don
’t leave me,
leannán
.” Latch grabs my hand, pressing it to his lips. I quickly snatch it back, not wanting to encourage anything.

“We
’re done. I don’t want you anymore!” I scream at him. “Latch, you’re drunk and I’m pretty sure you’re high too.”

He studies me for a few seconds, and then turns away. When he looks back, his eyes are dark and his mouth twists into a tight smirk.

“Is that a problem?” he asks impassively.

I look at him with disbelief. “Should I even dignify that with a response? Why are you doing this to yourself? You have everything. I don
’t get it. Help me understand, please. I’m afraid for you.” My voice fills with anguish at the shadow of the man I thought I knew.

“I doubt you give a shit, Haven,” he responds icily. “You said we
’re done and you don’t want me, so be it. I’m tired of investing in this relationship without any kind of love in return.”

His voice comes across as callous and cruel, definitely traits he inherited from his mother. I stand up to walk away. If I can
’t find Keenan or Weezie, I’ll just call a cab. I need to get out of here. Latch suddenly puts his hands around my waist and pulls me into him. He tries to kiss me, and I almost get lightheaded from the alcohol vapors emanating from him.

“Latch, let me go,” I demand, struggling to get out of his grasp.

I turn my head from side to side to prevent him from kissing me. Kissing him would be a mistake, one that would ultimately make me forgive him. Not loving him will never be possible, so putting distance between us would have to suffice.

“Remember what I told you in the library,
leannán
? You may have chosen to forget, but I haven’t. Just think of it as a farewell fuck.”

He tightens his grasp on me and I feel cornered. This isn
’t the man who loves me—this person is chilling and threatening. This isn’t Latch. This is the liquor and drugs.

“Latch, just listen to me, please. Stop this right now. I
’ll go home and we can talk tomorrow, I promise.” I beg him, trying to squeeze myself out of his hold.

Latch
’s grip is firm and strong; there’s no way I can break free. I look around. People are dancing and drinking, ignorant of my obvious distress. Part of me wants to cry out and bring attention to us, but I am afraid—not so much for myself, but for Latch’s sake. I really have to believe that he won’t hurt me.

“Let
’s go talk now. I’m not waiting for tomorrow,” he speaks softly.

He holds me firmly as he guides us over to a narrow path.

“Latch, please,” my voice quivers with dread.

We move along the path until we come to a fountain. It
’s made of dark gray marble and has three large tiers. Carved angels embellish the top and sides, and water proudly streams from the top. I can see coins through the shallow water at the bottom. The fragrance of flowers encompasses me. This is a place of tranquility. At least, it should be.

Latch loosens his hold on me, but it
’s not enough for me to get free.

“People toss money in there and make wishes.” He speaks as though it
’s an afterthought.

“It
’s very beautiful and serene here,” I say, attempting to make normal conversation.

“You know what I
’m wishing for?” he whispers, licking along my neck with his tongue. My body stiffens at the sensual touch.

I tilt my head towards his as he bends toward me. I press my lips to his, slipping my tongue between his teeth. I hear an approving growl come from his throat. I
’m quivering in his arms, but it’s not from desire—it’s from fear.

I want to be compliant because I
’m afraid he’ll take this too far.

My body instantly recognizes his scent. And no matter how afraid I am, my response to him is immediate. Even though I
’m furious with him and know this is wrong, I can’t stop myself because I love him. My hands go through his hair as a shudder runs down my spine. A moan comes from my throat as he deepens the kiss, running his hand down my back and settling on my ass. His breathing is shallow and fast. I can feel Latch’s erection pressing against my stomach. My thoughts and my feelings are making me feel uncomfortable. My brain is dictating one thing, but my body hungers for another. I cry silently, realizing that I too am addicted—addicted to Latch. I pull away from the kiss, panting.

“No, we have to stop. I can
’t do this with you. Not now.”

I push him back lightly. He yanks me back into his arms.

“I know how you liked it, with him,” his voice goes husky. I look at him, confused.

“Maybe you like it a little rough?” he says, biting my bottom lip until I taste blood.

Adrenaline courses through my body and I push him backwards towards the fountain. I’m furious.

“You interpreted what I wrote in my journal to mean that I liked it? I wanted it? I asked for it? God, I fucking hate you right now.”

My fists are clenched on both sides of my body and I’m sure my face is red from fury, not embarrassment. Latch moves from the fountain to close the space between us, his face a mask of resolve. I take a step back. Soon, his body is so close to mine, I can feel his breath prickling on my neck as his hand caresses my cheek.

“I want to fuck you,
leannán
,” he whispers, bending his head to lick the valley between my breasts.

Latch looks up from my cleavage, his eyes filled with wicked intent.

“Latch, please.”

This time I shove him back with force. He stumbles, catching himself before he falls, then turns back to me. His face contorts with rage. I have pissed him off. In his inebriated state, there
’s no way to tell how far he’s willing to take this. Latch strokes his hands up and down my arms and my body shivers from his touch. And then, I realize the truth, the crux of the matter, and it strikes me a blow that cuts me to the quick.

Since the beginning, I have given Latch free license to do anything and everything to me. My love for him has allowed this. I have pretended to ignore the obvious—that we
’re both dependent on each other as well as other things. It just never occurred to me that he is as fucked up as I am.

For a moment, I let his warmth touch me, stimulate me, turning my core to liquid fire. I am too lost in the moment to recognize the change in Latch
’s body language. Without any warning, he pushes my gown up to my waist and then rips off my panties. The act is so sudden and I cry out from surprise. His eyes show no reaction, just dark, empty, and not caring at all. This callous act, devoid of anything remotely connected to the feelings we are supposed to have for each other, absolutely paralyzes me. But the mad glint in his eyes tells me he’s not done yet.

He spins me so I
’m facing the fountain as he moves behind me. His fingers reach around me, penetrating my sex. My eyes stay glued straight ahead and I sob quietly.

“You
’re wet,
leannán
.” There’s a deep satisfaction in his voice.

I can
’t deny it. My body will always respond to this man and I hate myself because of it. As he drags his fingers along my slit, I can feel his engorged length pressing into my back. A soft moan leaves my lips as Latch rubs his thumb back and forth over my clit.

“Let me fuck you, Haven,” he whispers. His breath brushes the inside of my ear, causing my nipples to harden and brush the material of my bra, heightening my sensitivity. “I know you want me.” His breathing is choppy and uneven, as if he
’s losing complete control of himself.

And that
’s what I fear the most right now.

“Not like this, Latch. Please,” I plead.

He removes his fingers from my sex as he pushes my dress up farther with one hand. I hear his zipper. I feel his shaft pulsing against my ass. I need to see him, to face him, to help him see that it’s me.
His
Haven. I try to turn around, but he forcefully keeps me pinned so my back is to him. My arms ache from where he’s grabbing me. I attempt once again to face him, but he won’t relinquish his hold.

“I don
’t want to look at you,” he hisses under his breath.

I start to speak
but then he slides into me. A whimper escapes my lips as I brace myself on the fountain for the next thrust. Latch has one hand securely holding my neck as he buries himself deeper into me. He grunts as he continues his unrelenting rhythm of deep penetrating thrusts. My eyes fill with tears from the pain, from the knowledge that I also feel pleasure, and I’m ashamed. My body seems to have a mind of its own as I lean back into him. He continues to thrust deeper and harder. His hand is still around my throat while the other one is around my waist, holding me in place as he continues to drive into me.

My core muscles clamp down on Latch
’s length, and I feel so hot and tight. It causes Latch to jackhammer into me with faster, punishing strokes. The dark pleasure shoves me over the edge and, as I fly apart in his grip, it’s so intense that if Latch wasn’t holding me, I think I would collapse.

“I love you,” I finally say, but it
’s barely a murmur.

His hand on my throat slightly relaxes. But after a few moments, his grip on my neck tightens again and I feel Latch
’s shaft throb. His climax, hot and searing as it surges into me, fills me up and consumes me. His breathing starts returning to normal. We stand there, my back still to him. He takes his hand from around my throat, and I hear the sound of his zipper as he pulls it up.

His lips skim my ear and he whispers, “Keep the necklace—you earned it.” And just like that,
he’s gone.

I stand there, shaken, frozen, putting my hands on the edge of the fountain to steady myself. Then as the reality of what just happened between us settles in, I crumple to the ground. Tears start to stream down my face. I have no will to stop the outpouring of grief and loss I am feeling. I play what happened in my head over again. I feel sick and there
’s a burning in my throat as I vomit onto the ground. My dress is now a disarray of blood, semen and vomit. My only thought is to get away. I need to leave, right now. I push myself up off the ground and try to fix my hair. I pull down my dress and adjust it as much as I can. Hopefully, I can get out of here without anyone seeing the mess covering this dress. I pick up my torn panties and shove them into my purse. I take out my compact and attempt to clean up my raccoon eyes and the smudges on my face. I use the underside of my dress since it’s ruined anyway.

With my cell phone in hand, I send Weezie a text to meet me outside. I
’m sure she is fairly intoxicated by now, and I pray she won’t notice my disarray. I move along the pathway, finding my way to the courtyard. I see Latch among the guests. He’s standing with Krystella. He has a drink in one hand and her ass in the other. She’s laughing and talking as she leans into him.

My heart sinks. It was all a ruse; he never loved me. I was just another one of his
women
. It had been a game to him. I meant nothing. It all had been a lie. I will myself not to cry again. I will never shed another tear for Latch McKay.

I make my way through a gate, finding myself heading toward the front of the estate. I can see Weezie. Oh no, Keenan is with her.

“Hey, I need to go home,” I say, quickly smiling and then turning away.

Weezie comes closer to me and begins to survey me. Her lips twist into a tight grimace.

“What the hell?” she yells, taking a closer look as she inspects me.

Keenan touches my arm, causing me to flinch. His face fills with concern and regret.

“What is this, Haven?” Weezie demands. “Who did this?”

“It
’s not what you think.” I try to act casual, but I’m deeply conflicted about Latch and his actions.

“Oh, I
’m pretty sure it
is
what I think. That son of a bitch, I will kill him myself— Latch should have just ended his ass,” Weezie spits out.

Dammit . . . it
’s clear as day in my head now—Weezie thinks Jared did this.

“Weezie, please . . . Jared didn
’t do anything, I swear. I haven’t even seen him since . . . well, since he got his ass beat,” I reply, afraid to look her in the eyes.

Weezie stands there thinking about what I just told her. I can feel her wrath, her confusion. Keenan has an air of hostility circulating around him. He whispers something to Weezie that makes her eyes go wide and fill with tears. Weezie never cries. Keenan gently pushes Weezie to one side and stands in front of me. He reaches out, turning my head then tilting up my chin until our eyes lock.