44 - Luke

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She’s doing it on purpose. She has to be. Or is she? Fuck, it’s impossible to know for sure.

Her and Keira hit the showers at the same damn time every morning, during rush hour, for two different as dick reasons. Keira wants a show. She really likes the audience. Ainsley just gives zero fucks about nudity. She never has, and she’s proven that time and time again without the intention being to put on a show for me, yet here I am watching Hurricane Fucking Ainsley like it’s my favourite daytime drama, the only show I ever tune into on the regular.

She doesn’t look at me or make any fucking fuss while dressing. No lingering at the wardrobe or purposeful movements meant to entice me to look. But, of course, I’m looking. I’m gaping at her like a little boy seeing snatch for the first time in my life.

And, to make matters worse, she slides that dress over her head without putting on one stitch of underwear. That has to be intentional. Right? Fuck, I can’t tell. I’m not sure what’s worse, her teasing my prick on purpose or doing it with no fucking knowledge, and if she has no fucking knowledge she’s doing it, why the ever living fuck didn’t she put on any underwear?

“I’m just about ready,” she reports.

Not to me. She never addresses me anymore unless it’s to say something hateful as hell, chuck whatever’s closest to grab, or use those beautiful damn hands to accost me, which, admittedly, I eat the fucking ass off of because it’s better than the silence. Any attention from her is better than none at all.

When she rearranged the room weeks ago, I felt a flood of relief. I’d half expected her not to come back. Why would she? She isn’t in danger like she was initially. She might not have tamed her sparks completely, but she’s exhibiting some control. Any wielder will do to pinch a turd now. She doesn’t need any of us anymore and least of all me. So, when I came in to find my single bed converted to a double, I was damn near giddy over it. That meant she wasn’t leaving, and not only was she not leaving, she was making my bed our fucking bed, sans the literal fucking for her own good.

She said some shit about space, but it didn’t really register, not immediately. It felt like I won some agreement from her. She was going to wait like I asked. That wasn’t the case, obviously. Space to her means no more Ainsley sleep blankets, or chest pokes, or any shit that might constitute a connection with her outside our sleep sharing, and even then, she’ll only hold my hand.

Only.

My.

Fucking.

Hand.

At first, she wrapped around me in her sleep, but she always woke up and pulled herself out of my hold despite my weeny wavelet protests, and it didn’t take long for her to break that habit either.

That’s not all. Oh, no. It’s just the tip of the iceberg. She’s stopped being in our room except to sleep, spending all her time at the damn Registry right up until it closes. That place is a waste of academy space. I always thought so. Now I know so.

Look, I’m not a complete asshole. I’m glad she’s made new friends and tightened connections with old ones. She needs the support, but this shit with Beckett is getting out of hand. Speaking of hands, he’s handsy as fuck which she seems to actually love. I suppose that makes sense as she’s very tactile in nature, but if she honestly thinks that relationship can go anywhere, she’s seriously deluded as shit. It’s one thing trying to fuck me and failing. I’m a wielder. I’m built for receiving at least one of her spark sluts, and the others probably won’t fuck me to death, just make me wildly uncomfortable as they pound fuck my ass. But he’s an Orderly, just a Regular fucking dolt wearing a shiny cock ring title like that might make his minnow seem more appealing to swim with. She’s going to really hurt the prick, then she’ll never forgive herself. And the shittier part of me wants her to really, really hurt him because of those fucking hands.

She brushes her hair and leaves it hanging loose. No ponytail. What the actual fuck is happening? She always wears a damn ponytail, yet she’s left her long brown hair spilling over her bare ass shoulders like a waterfall begging me to stand under it. Only, I can’t. I just have to look at it, wishing I could feel it flowing over my chest like it used to while we slept.

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Keira hops out from her tent like she’s meant to give her approval. She tilts her head to the side before fishing through one of her drawers for something, handing it to Ainsley. “Try this.”

Ainsley puts on the lipstick without so much as a single protest.

Not.

A.

Single.

Protest.

She never wears shit on her lips. I’ve literally never seen those cocksuckers painted with anything other than blood. Right. It’s red. Of course it fucking is. Son of a bitch. Here it is on her lips, making me want to kiss it off them.

She doesn’t like it. Thank fuck. She recoils her nose, plucks a tissue, and uses it to wipe that shit stain off. Hah. I knew she wouldn’t like it. Her next words feel almost like she’s wrenching my propellers for knowing it.

“Lipstick makes for tricky kissing anyway,” she dryfires.

“It does,” Keira pops.

My eye ripples. If she doesn’t roast the lips off that fucking Orderly, I might have to take up the task myself, freezer burn style.

“I’m good to go then?” she clips.

Fuck yeah. She looks good enough to eat. I sincerely want to lick, bite, and suck every single inch of her.

“Have fun,” Keira crackles. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“So, basically the evening’s wide open,” Ainsley slamfires.

Keira laughs. Maverick and Aspen laugh. Do I laugh? Fuck no. I do not laugh.

I consider using the golden pass I cheated her out of in that knife throwing competition. Employing it’ll put an end to this scuttlefuck in queue here and now. She’ll have to do what I say and not give me shit about it, but if I do that, she’s only going to find some other prick to replace me with. Chaos is where her joy lives. She causes problem after problem after problem. It’s better to let her see this through, and have it fucking fail, despite how torn up I am over it. She needs to learn this lesson the hard way. Her choices have consequences.

“If you fuck around and try to board him, I’m not coming to save you!” I whitecap, ripping my watch off and throwing it at her to prove my point. It bounces off her tit and hits the floor at her feet.

“I don’t need you to fucking save me, White Horse,” she fires back, ceremoniously crushing the watch under her high heeled shoe, right along with my heart. Why am I only just noticing how long her beautiful damn legs are? And why am I suddenly so desperate to wrap them around my neck?

She storms off, and I look over to her dresser where she left her Sparklet. Did she purposely leave it? What if she needs to call me in an emergency? She’s never called me before, but…what if…

“Chill the fuck out!” Keira erupts, redirecting my attention from the abandoned Sparklet. She takes off her watch and throws it at me. “There’s more than one tether in this room. You’ll know if she needs you.”

I open my mouth to say something...anything. What the fuck does she know? How long has this been happening? Is it serious between them? Can I get her back? Keira speaks before I can find the words.

“I warned you,” she cinders.

I deepwater a nervous lump down my throat. “Did I lose her?”

“You never had her,” she ashes, “but you could’ve if you hadn’t been such a controlling cunt.”

“But a fucking Orderly?” I spray. “Is she really that desperate?”

“He’s someone who’s giving her something she needs right now,” she bubbles.

“If she needed to dock that damn bad, I’d have bought her a flame resistant, impossible to crush and explode dildo!” I billow. “Stuck her in a safe room and watched through a fucking port hole while she docked herself.”

“It’s not about the sex, Luke,” she spews. “It was never about the sex.”

“It was a little about the sex,” Maverick rumbles.

“Tiny bit,” Aspen outgasses.

Keira shakes her head. “It was about the bloody cage. You can’t cage her. You can’t give her ultimatums because those are just tiny ass cages. She needs more than that. She needs you to be strong enough for her.”

“What exactly does that mean, Keira?” I honestly need to know.

“I won’t tell you that.”

It isn’t malicious, just something I need to figure out for myself, or the lesson won’t stick.

“What is it she needs from him?” I scupper.

She hisses a sigh. “She needs to be seen, and he just sees her. Not her sparks. Not the rules. Not the chains. He just sees her.”

“I see her too,” I defend myself.

She smiles sadly. I didn’t know a face could do both tricks at once. “You see some of her, but you’re not quite looking in the right places to see all of her. He sees her here in this minute. Right now, Luke. Not tomorrow. Not for her Singularity or Schism or Polarity or, light forbid, Synergy. Just her. Just now.”

I pass the watch back to her, resigning myself to this fate. I can never not want more with Ainsley. I want everything. All the days.

Today.

Tomorrow.

Forever.

If I can’t have that, what choice do I have but to settle for dick all?

“Put it on silent. I’m not chasing another white whale. I’m fucking done,” I deadwater.