Their destiny, p.1
Their Destiny, page 1
part #3 of Lock and Key Series
Their Destiny
Lock and Key Series: Book 3
Rebel Rose
Scarlet House Novels
Copyright © 2018 by Rebel Rose
All rights reserved.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Contents
Note from Rebel Rose
1. Emma Lia Grant
2. Tristan Broussard
3. Emma Lia Grant
4. Tristan Broussard
5. Emma Lia James
6. Tristan Broussard
7. Emma Lia James
8. Tristan Broussard
9. Emma Lia James
10. Tristan Broussard
11. Emma Lia James
12. Tristan Broussard
13. Emma Lia James
14. Tristan Broussard
15. Emma Lia James
16. Tristan Broussard
About the Author
Note from Rebel Rose
DISCLAIMER:
This book contains BDSM situations involving dubious consent and physical restraint. These situations can be triggers for some readers and erotic for others. If you view BDSM as abuse then this book is not for you.
If you should choose to continue, enjoy.
1
Emma Lia Grant
My God, Tristan was insatiable last night and then again this morning. But not in the way that I expected.
I was wrong about what I need tonight. I want to connect with you. Bind you to me. Not bring you pain. Those were not the words or actions I anticipated when I saw the agony on his face after learning the truth about his mother and her brother.
He has tied me down multiple times. His doing that didn’t frighten me.
He applied the nipple clamps much tighter than ever before, and I wasn’t frightened.
He restricted my legs with the spreader bar and blindfolded me, and still, I wasn’t frightened.
I was prepared with open arms for whatever deviant acts he was about to inflict upon me. I was ready to go as far as he wanted to take me. But then calm replaced the frenzy within him, and his demeanor changed.
And that frightened me.
Tristan became different in the blink of an eye. Something happened inside of him last night. Something significant. He was one man when he tied my wrists to the bed and another when he removed the blindfold from my eyes. I can’t identify the change, but I’m certain of one thing: last night, Tristan Broussard became mine.
It’s wonderful and terrifying at the same time.
I don’t know for sure how many times that we’ve made love since arriving at the hotel suite. There were at least three times, maybe four, during the night when I drifted off to sleep only to be awakened by his moving inside me. Same as now.
Closing my eyes, I focus on the movement of his body inside me, on the way his breathing changes as the penetration deepens, on the way his body fuses with mine to become one. This man is my world, my everything, and I want him so much that I ache from the need I have for him.
His grip tightens on my shoulders, holding me in place, when his body shudders inside mine. “Oh… bebelle… uhh.”
Doll. I once detested his calling me that, but now I relish it. The word soaks through my skin and muscles and bones and penetrates my heart, causing it to swell every time I hear it come from his lips.
Because I love him.
His body hovers above mine, his weight supported on his arms, and he stares into my eyes. I feel like there’s something he wants to say, as though the words are on the tip of his tongue, but nothing leaves his mouth.
I reach up and touch the unruly spike on top of his head. It’s sexy and very different from his usual groomed, side-parted hairstyle. “You have a rooster comb.”
“I should with my amazing cock.”
I giggle and tug on his spike. “How are you this morning?”
He smiles and wiggles his softening cock inside me. “Thoroughly drained. Can’t you tell?”
“Waking to have sex every other hour will do that to you, but I think you know that’s not what I mean.”
He groans and pulls out of me, rolling to his back to lie beside me. I turn with him to my side and a small gush of cum is expelled from between my thighs.
“Don’t shove this under the rug, Tristan. Talk to me about it.”
His hand moves to his head, pushing his fingers into the top of his unruly hair. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“It isn’t healthy to keep your feelings bottled up inside.”
He stares at the ceiling, saying nothing. And that hurts more than I care to admit.
“You told me at the beginning of our relationship that I would eventually place all of my trust in you, and there’d be nothing that I couldn’t tell you. You said that our relationship wouldn’t be like anything I’ve ever experienced, and you were right. We are everything that you promised and so much more. But I need you to place all of your trust in me too. I don’t want there to be anything that you can’t tell me.”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I take his resting hand in mine, lacing our fingers together. “Trust me the way that I trust you, Tristan.”
His hand tightens around mine. “She must have hated me. How could she not when she looked at me and saw the living, breathing proof of her rape?”
“Regardless of the way you were conceived, your mother loved you. I’m sure of it. Anyone can look at that picture in the library and see it in the loving way she’s cuddling you in her arms.” You don’t see that when you look at the pictures of my mom holding Adam and me. She looks miserable.
“I’m sickened by what he did to her. Ashamed that I’m the result of his vile act against her. But mostly, I hate that you know how damaged I am.”
I move over and sit on top of him, forcing him to look at me. “You are not damaged, Tristan Broussard. Not even a little. You are perfect.”
He breathes in deeply, his chest expanding and then slowly deflating. “Not only am I the son of a rapist, I’m the result of incest. A brother raping his sister. That’s beyond fucked up.”
“Your parentage doesn’t define you.”
“But it must to some degree.” His hands move to my hips, gripping them tightly. “I saw you, wanted you, took you against your will, and forced you to stay and be my submissive. Normal people don’t do things like that.”
I can’t believe that he used the word normal. He hates that word, but even more, he hates comparing himself to what the world sees as normal.
“Look at all of the wicked things I enjoy doing to you, bebelle.”
“You don’t do anything that I don’t want you to do. I love everything that we experience together.” I can’t imagine going back to ordinary sex. And I can’t imagine sex with anyone else now. Tristan is the only man I want. Ever.
His hands follow my bent legs to my knees, and he rubs the other sides of my thighs up and down. “You’re young and beautiful and sweet and innocent, filled with so much light. You’re like an angel… and I enjoy hurting you. Your pain feeds my addiction. What does that tell you about me?”
“I enjoy the hurt, Tristan. I crave it.”
“You enjoy the hurt because with it comes pleasure. I’ve conditioned you to enjoy it. That makes me a monster, just like him.”
I once thought Tristan was a monster. But I was wrong. So very wrong.
I lean down, pressing my forehead to his. “You are not a monster, and you are not like him. Don’t you dare give that another thought.”
“Oh, bebelle.” He sighs and a deep groan rumbles in his chest. “I’m not looking forward to it, but I have to confront him.”
“I’ll go with you if you like.” I want to support Tristan in any way that he feels he needs me. His seeing that I am here for him and that I’m not going to run because we hit a bump in the road is essential for our relationship.
“I don’t want you there in case things go badly.”
“Go badly how?” I’ve seen Tristan’s temper. It isn’t pretty.
“That all depends on how he responds. And if he has anything else derogatory to say about you.”
“You plan on defending my honor?”
“I will always defend your honor, bebelle. Always.”
Always implies that we have a future. A future beyond pulling that key.
We agreed on allowing fate to determine our time together. But what if we want more? More beyond the repayment of my debt?
I do. I want more. A lot more.
But does he?
2
Tristan Broussard
I find my father working in his office. I stand in the doorway studying him before he notices me and damn, I see how much I look like him. It isn’t only the light blue eyes and dark hair flecked with gray. We’re also the exact same he
Most people weren’t aware that my uncle had adopted me when I was a baby. They often commented on our similarities, saying how much I looked like my father. It’s not unheard of for a boy to favor his mother’s brother. I believed that was why we were so similar, so I let the comments go without further thought. But it all makes sense to me now.
Fuck, I have considered this man to be my father for my entire life. And now, I learn that he really is but could never truly claim me as his own.
Because he’s a sixteen-year-old-sister-raping motherfucker.
He looks at me over his glasses. “Son… come in.”
I enter his office and sit in one of the chairs opposite him. I look at his face for a moment, wondering what the fuck goes through a grown man’s mind when he looks at his teenage sister and makes the decision to rape her.
“I’m glad you came, son. We obviously have some things to sort out after last night.”
“Agreed. You go first.” I want to hear what he has to say for himself.
“I understand exactly what you see in Grant’s daughter. She’s young and beautiful, no doubt about it. But that girl comes from a family of gambling cheats. Surely, you must see that she’s only interested in your money.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“And why do you highly doubt that?”
“Because I caught her cheating at the Biloxi casino and gave her two options: live with me until she works off her debt or go to jail.”
He chuckles. “So she chose to whore herself out instead of going to jail? Sounds about right for a Grant.”
Hearing him insult mon bebelle makes me want to fly across his desk and wrap my hands around his throat. “Never call her that. Emma Lia is not a whore; I’m the only man she’s with. She is mine.”
“You don’t have to hint at what kind of relationship you have with Miss Grant. I know about your lifestyle and what you like to do with women behind a closed door. But this woman… you don’t need this one in your life. Give her up. Find another one to submit to your needs. You won’t have a problem finding a replacement. Countless women would be thrilled to take her place.”
I had no idea that my father knew about my lifestyle. But how?
Has he sensed the sadistic Dominant inside of me?
Does he have it inside of him too?
Is that why he was obsessed with my mother?
“You’re wrong about Emma Lia. I’ve never needed any woman the way that I need her. She’s irreplaceable.”
My father shakes his head. “She’s getting her hooks into you, Tristan. Turn her loose before it’s too late. Before she drags you down.”
He isn’t listening to me. “I’m thinking of marrying her.”
His eyes narrow and deep lines form around his eyes and forehead. “Marrying her? Oh hell no. You can’t marry that girl.”
“I love Emma Lia. I want her to be my wife.”
I didn’t come here to have a conversation about my relationship with Emma Lia, but he might as well know how I feel about her.
My father slams his hand on his desk. “She will ruin you, son.”
“Emma Lia will ruin me? I think you mean that Conrad will tell me all about your dirty little secret and ruin you.”
He coughs, clearing his throat. “My dirty little secret? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do, Dad.”
“I don’t know what Conrad Grant told you, but I’m sure it’s nothing but a bunch of lies coming from a man like him.”
“Conrad weaved a very sickening tale.” I find it difficult to form the next sentence; once I reveal what Emma Lia’s father told me, my father will either have to deny or own up to what he did. “Conrad’s tale involves the rape of your little sister, which resulted in her becoming pregnant with me. He says she told him that you are my biological father.”
“That’s a lie.”
“You were thirty-two years old and she was a sixteen-year-old girl. You were the adult. You were supposed to be taking care of her. Raising her. Keeping her safe. But instead, you were abusing her and pleasuring yourself. It’s a despicable crime.”
“It’s not true.”
My father forgets that I have spent years learning to read lies on a man’s face the way I read words in a book. And his poker face has lost its touch.
“I wouldn’t expect you to admit to it.”
“I can’t believe that you would take his word over mine.”
He can lie if he likes, but there’s one sure way to end this debate.
“Conrad’s accusation is easy to disprove. All you have to do is take a DNA test and we can clear all of this up in no time at all. We can take the test tomorrow to prove your innocence.”
He looks at me for a moment and then shakes his head. “No. A test won’t be necessary.”
“Because you admit it? You are my biological father?”
He looks away because he’s a coward. He can’t even look me in the eye when he admits it. “Yes.”
Inside, I had hoped that he’d demand the DNA test to prove that he wasn’t a sick bastard like Conrad said. But Conrad is right.
“How could you?” He stares at the papers on his desk, saying nothing. “How could you do that to her?” I yell.
“Because I loved her. I loved her in a way that no one could accept or understand.”
Fuck, I don’t think he has any idea how sick he sounds. “People couldn’t accept or understand because it’s wrong for a brother to love his sister in a romantic way. It’s not normal or natural. Why can’t you see that?”
“I didn’t care what people thought. And I would think that you of all people would understand that; the things that you do aren’t normal or accepted.”
I can’t believe he has the gall to compare what he did with what I do. “Nothing I do is illegal, and I do it with a consenting adult.”
“It doesn’t matter what I say about my relationship with your mother. You’ll never understand. No one will.”
“Did you hold her down and force her, or did you brainwash her into believing that what you were doing to her was okay?”
“I didn’t force your mother to do anything, Tristan. She consented to everything we did because she loved me the same way I loved her. I know you don’t believe me, but what we shared was beautiful despite not being accepted. It was a love that most people never get to experience.”
Sick, sick fucker. He was an adult preying upon a young girl’s vulnerability and innocence.
“It’s difficult to believe that my mother loved you so dearly and was so happy when she committed suicide.”
“She struggled with the dynamics of our relationship. She carried a lot of guilt and shame, as did I. After a while, that weighs on a person mentally and emotionally.”
I don’t think he has an ounce of guilt or shame about what he did.
“She killed herself because of you and because of me—a child fathered by her own brother. Do you hold yourself responsible for her death?” I know I do.
“Every fucking day. And you can take comfort in knowing that I’ve spent the last thirty-five years in misery, grieving for her. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve considered joining her. You’re the only reason that I haven’t blown out my brains.”
“Well, don’t let me stop you.” I get up and move toward the door, pausing in the doorway to issue a warning. “If you ever put your hands on Emma Lia again, I’ll kill you, and you won’t have to worry about blowing out your own brains.”
“I know you’re angry, but I love you, son. You’re the only part of Lisette that I still have.”
“Wrong. You don’t have me. Because I never want to see you again.”
