Broken Wings (Dark Legacy #1)(55)
Noticing the golf cart there, I decided that would have to do, and slowly pulled my broken body into the seat, starting her up and taking off. When I reached the front gate, I programmed in the code to leave, relieved that I finally had some freedom. My foot was flat to the floor, and I must have looked like a deranged lunatic as I flew along a small road that led between the five estates that all coexisted here. I wasn’t sure why I headed in the direction of Beck’s estate, but I found myself slowing down and letting the cart just coast when I reached the impressive gates that barred his even more impressive house from the world. Coming to a stop, I just sat there, staring up at the full moon. It was a cold night, my breath visible in the air as I breathed in and out deeply, trying to calm the fractured state of my mind.
“What are you doing here, Butterfly?”
His low voice wrapped around me, and since a part of me had been waiting for him, I didn’t even jump. “How long until I can close my eyes and not see death?” I asked, not turning away from the moon.
He didn’t answer for a long time, but he braced his hands against the roof of my cart and stared down at me. His shadowed form blocked out the moon, and I shifted my attention to his frown.
“I’ll let you know when I manage it,” he finally said, his voice soft. “In the meantime, you just grow ... accustomed to it. Numb.”
“That sounds awful,” I whispered, shuddering.
Beck frowned at me a moment longer, then nudged my shoulder. “Shift over.”
“What? Why?” My fingers gripped the flimsy steering wheel tighter. “I’m not letting you drive my sweet ride.”
Beck glared, and when he seemed to accept that I wasn’t joking, let out a low grumble and stalked his sexy ass around to the passenger seat. A little clicker in his hand opened the obnoxious front gates and he indicated for me to drive in.
“Too lazy to walk?” I teased, turning my cart through his gates and beginning the long drive up to the house.
He gave me a long side eye. “More like I don’t trust you cruising around the Delta compound in this thing.” He tapped the plastic frame holding my roof up. “Knowing you, I’d find you crashed into a lake or something.”
The dark look on his face reminded me that my brother had been found dead in a lake, but I ignored the shiver of fear and huffed at the implication I was a bad driver. You lose one race and your reputation was in the shit.
“Come on,” Beck said when I pulled up outside his front doors. He didn’t even wait to check if I was following, just strode up those steps like he was Zeus and this was his Mount Olympus.
Damn him for making me predictable, but curiosity had me in its tight grip, and I reluctantly followed him inside.
“Through here,” he called out when I hesitated in the foyer, peering up at the massive crystal chandelier. Following his voice, I wandered through a fancy sitting room until I found him in a lounge area with an impressively stocked bar.
He was pouring two glasses of a deep amber liquor and as I stood there—awkward as fuck—he dropped a couple of ice cubes in each one then picked them up.
“Here.” He held one out to me. “It’ll help with the sleep thing.”
Gingerly, I reached for the glass. I probably wasn’t supposed to drink alcohol while on the painkillers from the hospital, but I was desperate.
Our fingers brushed as he handed it to me, and a deep shiver of desire shot through me. Something told me, I’d live to regret taking this drink with Beck. But at least I’d live. Not asking questions, I blocked my nose and took a huge swallow of the liquor.
At first, it just tasted sweet and smoky, and then it burned all the way down my throat and pooled like lava in my belly. Coughing, I blinked moisture from my eyes and peered into the glass. “Wow, uh, what is this?”
The corners of Beck’s mouth picked up in a small smile, and he sipped his own. “Port Ellen, forty years old.” He paused when I blinked stupidly at him. “Scotch,” he explained in plain English. “Really rare, expensive scotch. Which is totally wasted on your unrefined taste buds, apparently.” This last was muttered in a dry tone as he turned away from me. He took another sip of his fancy scotch as he messed with the sound system, flicking through tracks until he settled on one he liked. All the while, I scowled and simmered.
“Are you really so arrogant, Sebastian?” I demanded, my anger at his jab finally boiling over. “Is it really so revolting to you that I was raised in a two bedroom unit on a dodgy street in Jersey? That my best friend is in a gang, and I met my last boyfriend on community service?” Beck had tensed, I could see it in the lines of his back. He was wearing a black, short sleeve t-shirt like the cold held no power over him. He was in charge of his core temperature, not the weather.
“You should never have grown up like that,” he bit back, and I got even more riled up.
“Why the fuck not? We might have been poor, but I’ve at least never been in multiple airplane crashes. Your fucking life is a joke.”
I really pissed him off then, his eyes darkened as his full lips narrowed. “Make no fucking mistake, Riley, you are one of us. This … life, is something that you’re part of, and should always have been part of. Don’t fool yourself into thinking that your trailer trash life was superior.”
“There’s something seriously wrong with you,” I shouted back before coughing at the pain in my throat. Bruised vocal cords did not like shouting. Taking another sip of the watery remains in my glass, I finished. “Oscar is the one who was a Delta successor. A true heir. I’m Riley Jameson, not Deboise, and don’t you ever forget it.”