Isolation: Book 2 of The Quarantine Series Page 5

  Fuck. That reminds me of a different pill. I reach for my purse and rummage through the contents to find my birth control.

  I took it on Friday, but not over the weekend. It’s Monday, so I have missed two days. However, I have heard that if you have been on the pills for long, you have to be off it for a while before it makes a difference.

  Or is that wishful thinking?

  I can’t get pregnant with Milo’s devil spawn. I just can’t. The universe can’t play such a cruel joke on me.

  Milo reaches back. He doesn’t comment on the birth control in my hand but holds out two pills of his own. One of them is broken in half.

  “Here.”

  “Why is that one only half?” I point at one of the tablets, but I grab them both.

  “These pills are highly addictive,” he unscrews the water bottle. “You just told me you were high last night, which means you have been getting high on pain killers for days. Your frame is small. I think the bigger dose is affecting you.”

  Half a pill is actually safer against an opening for sex on opioids. Besides, I am not as focused on physical pain as the one in my chest. I take the pills, chug the water, and turn to him.

  “Where is Reid?” I ask for what seems like the hundredth time today.

  “You should get more rest,” Milo’s voice is stoic, his expression unreadable. He takes the empty water bottle to throw it away. “Don’t worry about Reid.”

  I have to speak to Reid to somehow explain what happened. “Can you ask him to come to see me?”

  Milo’s voice is monotone. “He already came by to see you while you were unconscious.”

  “I’d like to see him post unconsciousness.”

  “So, go see him,” he shrugs.

  “How?” I ask slowly. “I can’t walk.”

  “That sounds like a you,” Milo points his index finger at me, “problem.”

  I stare at Milo, feeling dumbfounded.

  I have been paying attention throughout the day. Milo is starkly different, yet he is the same. He is still polite, but now he is unapproachable. He is disengaged. Dismissive.

  Milo always had a master poker face. Now, his face is genuinely void of emotions. He is not masking his feelings; I fear that he has none left, which is not good news for me.

  They say psychopaths are born, but sociopaths are made. Milo was not born evil. His lack of empathy, volatile and impulsive tendencies all started later in life. All of which points towards sociopathic behavior. So, what resonates with a sociopath?

  Narcissism?

  “Thank you for taking care of me the last few days.” I close my eyes to hide any emotions. “Will you please help me so I can talk to Reid?"

  “Why do you need him so badly?” he asks, irritated. “I am here. Tell me what you need.”

  “I just did!” The words come out a little harsher than intended, shooting an onslaught of pain right to the middle of my skull. I hold my forehead in response to the migraine.

  “Rave,” Milo sits down next to me and strokes my hair. “You need to calm down. This is not good for your concussion.”

  “It will calm me down to know where Reid is,” I squeeze my forehead.

  Milo sighs. “Reid left the house and never came back. We don’t know where he went.”

  My eyes snap wide open as I stare at Milo. I slump backward on my pillow and wait for any emotion to hit me. I feel nothing. Absolutely nothing. Empty. Like being dead on the inside.

  Milo scoots closer and wraps his arms around me. I don’t make a single move, taking in the momentary warmth of consolation.

  No words are exchanged between us. My morbid state must have inspired some pity. When Milo speaks again, I don’t hear the same patronization from before.

  “I told everyone not to say anything, but I promise Reid will be just fine. He’s a big boy. He knows how to take care of himself. It’ll be okay.”

  But it won’t be. Nothing will be okay now.

  When my parents left, I was sad, but I could deal with it. When Milo and I didn’t speak, I was devastated, but I could deal with it. When I was apart from Reid, I spiraled. He did too.

  We don’t know who we are without each other.

  I slowly untangle myself from his hold. “Has anyone spoken to him?” I ask.

  “No, but we have all called and texted him,” he explains. “Reid just needs some space.”

  “Milo,” I say softly, “Reid has a pattern of drinking himself half to death. Do you remember the time Reid and I got into a fight? He drank so much that we found him passed out on the street. What if he does something equally as stupid? Have you considered that?”

  “I have,” Milo admits. “I called everyone we know to see if they have heard from him. I even sent someone to his dorm to check if he is there. There is only so much I can do.”

  “You can tell him that we are not together,” my eyes flip up with hope. “Reid is upset because he doesn’t want us together. We can tell everyone that we played a bad prank. Everyone can text Reid to tell him what he saw wasn’t true—”

  “I am not going to do that,” he cuts me off as if it's the end of discussion.

  I don't bother pressing the matter. It's pointless, and it’s fucking distressing. My migraine is out of control, and arguing with him is futile.

  I feel suffocated after being back in this house for less than a week. Moving back was a bad decision.

  I need to find a way out of this house.

  -----------

  Milo

  Raven started withdrawing the moment her medications wore off.

  My Raven, who has been sleeping in my arms, is gone. Now, she is looking for a way out of this house.

  Fuck that.

  When Raven doesn’t respond, I explain the situation in the way her logical brain can process.

  “Our families already think we are together. They had barely gotten over the shock of catching us in the act when half the house heard you climax last night. We can't pass that off as a prank.”

  Raven looks at me in mortification, but I hold up a hand.

  “I tried to quiet you down, but you wouldn’t listen. Now that they know about us, why don’t we work on fixing things between us?”

  “There is no fixing this, Milo,” she replies in a defeated voice. “You haven’t changed. You still had sex with me after I told you to stop. How can you think there is any coming back from that?”

  “Obviously, there is because you still reciprocate every time.”

  Raven seethes, but instead of blasting me, she says something worse, “Whatever. Just find Reid.”

  Not this again. Every time she mentions him or pines for him, I feel the familiar surge of anger clawing inside. I reach for Raven’s arms and slowly start to flex my fingers in till I hear her take a sharp inhale.

  “How long have you known about what Reid feels for you?”

  Raven is tight-lipped about what they discussed before I moved back, but her tense look is telling.

  I really shouldn’t push her while she has a concussion, but… “Do not rile me up by continuing to talk about him,” I growl in a low voice. “You are insane if you think he is coming anywhere near you again.”

  “What!" Raven exclaims in shock. "You can’t do that. You can't keep him from me!"

  “I sure as hell can."

  "Fuck you. Get away from me and find Reid.”

  “Enough, Raven!"

  "I told you I need to talk to him."

  "Do not ask for him one more time—”

  “FIND! REID!”

  My body reacts before my mind does. One of my hands moves to the nape of her neck and the other around her waist.

  Pulling her to me, I swoop down to her lips.

  Lips smashing together.

  Collision course.

  Heart pounding.

  Adrenaline.

  Rush. Pure rush.

  I barely feel Raven’s nails clawing my cheeks and neck. Drugs block your pain receptors so the message can’t be carried to the nerve cells in your brain.

  Raven is my drug of choice. Pain doesn’t affect you when you are this high from the drug you consumed.

  Raven is digging her nails in harder, trying to move her face. But the hand I have around her neck is strong enough to hold her still.

  I keep kissing her, not giving her an ounce of space. We are both out of breath when I break the kiss.

  I have only pulled away for a second when Raven blurts out, “Milo, stop! Reid and I are together—”

  -----------

  Raven

  Milo comes down on my mouth at full speed. He barely breaks the kiss when a plethora of verbal diarrhea takes over. “Milo, stop! Reid and I are together—”

  I stop short, having realized what I just said. Milo freezes as well. He is still holding me tight while I struggle to get away from him.

  He narrows his eyes at me. “What?” he asks a little too quietly. “What did you just say?”

  It was the only information I could have shared to shock him enough to stop. But it was too much.

  I stare at him and brace myself for the blow that’s about to come.

  “Raven!” Milo growls as he shakes me violently.

  “I want to be with Reid,” I blurt it out again.

  There it is. The detail I planned to tell Milo the day we reunited after years apart before I lost my nerve.

  Clearly, my concussed brain is suspended of all logic. I let the words slip out.

  Milo’s eyes turn from shock to hurt to… anger. Pure. Fire. Anger. He grabs both of my arms to shake me, but he doesn’t have to as a familiar panic is shaking my body on its own.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Milo yells. I open my mouth, but he cuts me off. “Tell me you are lying. Assure me that you lied to provoke me.”

  When I don’t say anything, Milo’s eyes reflect the same murderous rage as his tone.

  “Remember what I told you once? I’ll kill any fucker who touches you. Do you want me to murder my own brother?” Milo speaks the words evenly and without an ounce of emotion.

  That’s when it hits me how wrong I was about my assessment. His sociopathic tendencies surpass normal impulsivity and volatility. He is unpredictable to a whole new dangerous level.

  “Did you sleep with him?” Milo manages to spit it out; eyes darkened past recognition.

  “W-What? N-no, I haven’t,” I am starting to stutter. I can’t help it. I am freaking out.

  “Are you lying to me?”

  “M-Milo, I s-s-swear,” I stutter again. Milo is possessed. I had only seen him like this once before—the day before I left for Paris. “We didn’t sleep together. I swear on Mia.”

  His face visibly relaxes for a millisecond before hardening again. He is looking at me with rage. Madness. A storm that’s about to hit and obliterate everything in its vicinity.

  “Whatever was between you two, it’s over,” he says flatly. “You are never to see him again. Ever. You will never speak to him either.”

  “That’s not possible. You know—”

  “Shut the fuck up, Raven!” Milo’s lethal fury and the dead look in his eyes successfully shut me up. “Do not fucking argue right now.” His voice is trembling as if he has no control left.

  Milo is unhinged. He used to try to restrain himself. Now that he knows about Reid, I am afraid that any restraint he might have previously exercised is far gone.

  He wraps one hand around my waist, and the other grabs my hair. He collides his lips back onto mine before I have a chance to move my mouth.

  He breaks the kiss to speak against my lips. “You think you have other options?” he hisses. “You don’t. You’ll never be rid of me, so you might as well accept this and save yourself the misery.”

  All of those words are sadly true, I have come to realize. Milo is a lunatic that I’ll never be rid of.

  I left my life behind to get away from him. Even then, I had peace because he allowed it. Now that he knows about Reid, he will never allow it again.

  Even a restraining order wouldn’t do any good. He would break it without regard. I can’t enforce a restraining order without calling the cops. Milo knows I’d never press charges and put the Sinclairs through the misery of finding their eldest in jail.

  The only way I’d be rid of him is if I leave everyone in this family behind and disconnect from them completely. Sadness ripples through me at the truth of my situation.

  “I can’t live like this,” I say hoarsely, my voice reflecting my desperation. “Please, stop this madness. If you care about me even a little, let go of this insanity.”

  “Never,” he answers with a sense of finality. “I told you that I’d do anything for you. I’ll even forget the urge to kill him. The only non-negotiable part is that you are mine.”

  “Never. I’m not yours. I’ll never—”

  In a swift move, Milo shifts my body to sit behind me, cutting off my words. He positions me in the space between his thighs, his long legs trapping my frame between them.

  One of his hands reaches around my breast to tip me, so my back hits his chest. He leans us against the headboard, slips his hand inside my shorts, and grinds my core with his palm.

  I try to pry his hand out. “Milo, stop! I’ll fucking scream if you don’t stop,” I threaten. “Everyone in this house will hear me.”

  “Baby, you know that the sound from this room doesn’t travel downstairs,” he says sadistically.

  I freeze when I realize that he is right. And if the Sinclairs already think that I am in a crappy mood, they are likely to avoid this room anyways.

  “I’ll go easy on you because you are injured. I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” he whispers. “But if you keep fighting me, I’ll forget about your injuries and focus on what you just disclosed. Make the logical choice.”

  -----------

  Milo

  Raven’s body is shaking with anger as she sorts through her limited options.

  I am pissed too. So fucking pissed. There is only one thing that can calm me down right now.

  I need to feel her wetness right this second. I need to hear her scream my name.

  My hand starts to shape her body to touch everything she has denied me over the years. I run my hands over her thighs, belly, and chest.

  Sliding up her tank top, I let her breasts spill out.

  Fuck. I am going to blackout from that visual alone. I can feel her heartbeat as my hands roam her chest, squeezing her breasts.

  I tilt my face to press a kiss on her cheek as I curl my fingers inside her. Raven grabs my hand, having decided on her route. She is going to fight me instead of taking my advice.

  “No! You can’t pull the same crap again.” She violently thrashes.

  Raven’s injuries are serious. She might hurt herself. I should stop for that reason alone.

  So, why can’t I get myself to stop?

  “Get. Off. Me.” Raven enunciates each word.

  “No,” I curtly state without further explanation.

  There is no point in explaining. I am her hero when she accepts me. I am her worst nightmare when she rejects me. I have stopped trying to explain that to her a long time ago.

  “Milo, stop!”

  “Shhh,” I coax her gently, sighing with relief as soon as I feel her getting wet. I needed that.

  I tilt my head again to watch for her reaction. Raven has exhausted herself from trying to fight me off. She simply turns her face away from me.

  Raven is relentless, even though we can both feel her lubrication coating my fingers.

  “At this point, you are fighting yourself, not me,” I whisper against the shell of her ear. “Why won’t you just admit that you want me as much as I want you?”

  “You’re right,” she whispers back angrily, still refusing to look at me. “I do want you.”

  I freeze at her unexpected admission. My fingers inside her stop moving. I am about to ask what she means when she adds the next part of her comment.

  “And it’s killing me. You can force me to react positively to you, but you cannot force me to feel okay about this. We’ll never have anything more than a sick physical connection. Every time you fuck me, I am reminded of that shallow bond, and part of my soul gets ripped away by the time we are done. So, go ahead if this is what does it for you. I won’t fight you anymore.”

  My face contorts. I’m glaring at the back of her head with a mixture of lust and anger.

  Actually, not anger. It’s more like a lethal hell-bent fury from another dimension.

  She made me wait for years, only to come back for my brother. Now she is downplaying our connection to gut me.

  Her actions do not justify my behavior, but Raven rules all of my conscious and subconscious thoughts.