The bitch of the whole thing is that I have no right to feel this way. To feel any of the way I do regarding her. I’ve made my decision. I’ve chosen to walk away and to bury any emotion she may have stirred in me. She’s allowed to embrace any man she wants. She can kiss and f**k anyone she pleases. Because she isn’t mine.

My stomach clenches. All I see is red.

I’m vaguely aware of David speaking and then the sound of the door closing as he leaves. At least he was smart enough to know he should go without being asked. I realize I’m angry with him as well—he’s an employee and he’s making moves on his boss’s girlfriend. My feelings toward him are such a small part of my turmoil though, and I’m glad for his departure. Now I focus on directing the torment brewing inside. If I have to feel this pain, at least I can use it to push her away.

“Hudson.” She says my name, and it sounds like a broken chord—each syllable hanging in the air with distinct weight. She steps toward me. “I read about Plexis. I’m so sor—”

Like I give a f**k about Plexis at the moment.

I cut her off. “What’s going on with you and him?” It’s not my place to ask, but though my voice is controlled and even, I have no authority over my actions. I need her to answer. I need her to alleviate this fear that she feels for anyone the way she feels for me.

It’s insane. It’s irrational. And I can’t stop needing it.

“Nothing.” She sighs. “David was, um…it was a friendly hug, that’s all.”

Her answer only makes the sting worse. “The expression on his face was much more than friendly.” I step toward her, demanding with my body before I’ve even voiced the question I have to have an answer to. “Have you f**ked him?”

“No!”

I study her with narrowed eyes. There’s more she isn’t saying—I can read her face, read her posture. There’s something between them. “But almost,” I guess.

“No.” Her tone is adamant, but her eyes shift.

This, her lie, tears me apart more than anything. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you have some serious trust issues. What is your f**king deal, anyway?”

There is a rational voice in my head screaming that this is not how I should behave. That her relationships are private and not my concern. That this is not my place. She. Is. Not. Mine.

I want to listen to it. I want to calm the blistering storm that is traveling through my every nerve. But it’s impossible.

So I give up, letting the tempest swallow me as I step toward her and growl. “I told you before. I don’t share.”

Whatever plans I had for our paths are suddenly null and void. Because though I cannot have her, though I’m supposed to let her go, I’ve just claimed her.

There’s a flash of acceptance in her eyes. It’s brilliant, and I cling to the light of it long after it’s lost to the challenge that follows. “But I have to share you with Celia?”

“Goddammit, Alayna. How many times do I have to say it? There is nothing going on with me and Celia.” I convince myself it’s not a lie because she’s questioning a romantic involvement. In my bones, I’m sure that she senses the truth—that there is some sort of connection between Celia and me. Alayna can read me too well to miss this.

Still, I refuse to shed any light on my secrets.

So she uses the only weapon she can. “And there’s nothing going on with me and David.”

“Really? That’s not how it looked when I walked in here.”

“Just like that’s not how it looked when you left with Celia while I was still na**d in your bed?”

Anger surges through me like lightning. How can she not understand? I grab her by her upper arms and pull her into me. “Leaving you that morning was the hardest f**king thing I’ve done in a long time. Don’t treat it lightly.”

Then, because she has to know how I feel and because this is the only way I know to tell her, I crush my mouth to hers. I bite and tear at her lips. I’m brutal and bruising. This, I tell her with my kiss, is how it felt to walk away.

She pulls away. “Hudson, stop.”

But I can’t. I have to get through to her. Or maybe I just need her body to calm the fury inside of me. I don’t know anything anymore except this fervent urgency to have her.

“Stop.” She pushes at my chest.

“No. I have to f**k you. Now.”

“Why? Are you marking your territory?”

Her question startles me. Is that what this is? Is this action merely an extension of my irrational jealousy? It’s not what I wanted this to be.

My pause allows her to wrestle free of my grip. “You don’t own me, Hudson! Stop messing with me like I’m one of your other women. Not with me, remember?”

It’s the truth I try not to face, slapped at me with such force I can’t deny it. “Don’t you think I know that? Every minute of every day, I remind myself that I can’t conquer you. That I can’t do that to you. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t want to.”

The words rush out of me so quickly, I can’t digest them until they hang in the air around us. In them is clarity. I have wanted to conquer her. As much as I’ve refuted Celia’s plans and defended my actions as benevolent toward Alayna, there has always been a part of me that wanted to own her. To master her. To win her. Was this the real reason I agreed to the game? Because I can’t help myself from playing?

The possibility pains Alayna as much as it does me. Tears spill down her cheeks. “So I am just like the others.”

“No. You’re not.” I wanted to manipulate her—it’s a desire that will never go away. But it was faint with Alayna. It lingered in the background behind so many other more prominent desires. “I told you before,” I tell her. “I don’t want to hurt you more than I need to win you.”

She’s sobbing as she says, “You’ve already done both.”

Horror washes over me like an icy shower. “Fuck!” This was not what I wanted. It was everything I’d tried to prevent. And even though I knew—I knew—that I had hurt her, the reminder of it, paired with the reminder that she’s declared her love, overpowers me. The reality of her emotions bring all of mine to the surface. I’ve f**ked everything up. There is no possibility of either of us walking away from this relationship like it was a bump in a road. There is no good decision to be made. I’ve made our story so that it can only end in pain.