Entwined: Read online

  ENTWINED

  JAX HART

  ©2018 by JAX HART

  [email protected]

  COVER DESIGN by COVER ME DARLING LLC

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  GLOSSARY

  PLAYLIST

  QUOTE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTE RTWELVE

  CHAPTE RTHIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  EPILOGUE

  ACKNOWLEDEMENTS

  With or Without You-U2

  Nothing Compares to You- Sinéad O’Connor

  What’s Love Got to Do with it? - Tina Turner

  One More Try- George Michael

  She’s Like the Wind- Patrick Swayze

  Memory- CATS the Musical http://bit.ly/MEMORYCATS

  Consequences by Camila Cabello

  Mágos= Wizard

  Yaya= Grandma

  Glykia Mou= Golden one

  Agape= love

  Chérie= Sweetheart

  El Salvador= The Savior

  Cotillion= A formal ball, especially one at which debutantes are presented.

  Yaya= Grandma in Greek

  El Diablo= The Devil

  Cherie= sweetheart

  Amore= love

  Punter= wealthy layer, playboy

  Martingale= a strap or det of straps attached to the nose-band and girth on a horse to prevent them from raising their head too high.

  “the ton, the set ”= “a term uses commonly to refer to Britain’s “High Society.”

  Heathcliff = reference from Jane Austen’s Wuthering Heights

  Malaka= jerkoff

  Kárdia Mou= My Heart

  She changed me.

  I'm no longer a dark, broken man but the sins of my past haunt me.

  I destroyed lives while breaking countless woman who thought they could reach my black heart.

  They all failed.

  All but one.

  HER.

  But I'm not a man worthy of my dove. Not yet anyway. But I vow I will be someday. I hope she'll still fly for me then.

  Jessie

  Freedom.

  It's all I've ever wanted.

  I know we can fly together.

  He left me, a broken shell of who I was. But who I am now is perhaps who-- I was always destined to be. I see that clearly. I know deep in my heart--Christos and I belong together forever. His handsome face is on the cover of every magazine. The internet is full of pictures of him giving his millions away to countless children's charities. My dark one is now the golden one, and I won't let him leave me behind.

  He won't shine for anyone but me.

  I gave him light.

  I deserve his bright future.

  But first I need to prove to him just how strong I've become. Together we can rule the world, chart our own course and soar higher than the stars.

  Authors note: this is the third and final book in the series.

  “I don’t believe in magic.” The young boy said.

  The old man smiled.

  “You will, when you see her.” - Atticus

  MY HANDS STILL SHAKE.

  My heart alternates between the rapid beat of a bird’s wings and the slow cadence of a drum.

  Just when I thought that it wasn’t possible to be wrecked any more than I have been—he proves me wrong.

  It’s a skill to build someone up, shatter them; reshape them into who you want them to be only to destroy that and start over again.

  He’s an artist and for most of the past year I was his medium. He molded, shaped, —cut, and kneaded me into what he wanted. Then he praised me. Made me feel like I was the artist’s greatest muse. Until he decided he wanted to paint a new canvas.

  I was the piece of art he left hanging on the wall; once admired but stared at too many times. Once I stopped him in his tracks—now he walks by, unnoticing me still hanging on a nail.

  My boots shuffle through the gray sludge covering the roads. My hands freeze inside the pockets of my coat.

  A few days ago, this whole world shined with magic; with promise. But the once pure snow is now dark and dirty. The air no longer crisp but thick with exhaust and smog.

  I don’t feel like a shiny penny either. He used to make me feel brand new.

  I’m discarded.

  Unwanted.

  A leftover.

  I push open the door to a small bakery and coffee shop. Wet and cold, I slide into an empty chair.

  “What can I get you, miss?”

  “Plain tea and scones with clotted cream.” I answer, turning to the window, watching as the world goes by.

  It’s strange. After being taken captive and held by him for so long that now, I’m free. But I’m still trapped. More trapped than I’ve ever been. I’m locked inside the world I lived with him in even though it no longer exists.

  I spent hours lying on the floor of the hotel room, clutching the astronomy book to my chest in disbelief that he left me. When I was finally able to breathe without tearing up; I got dressed and left. The clerk at the front desk informed me the room was paid in full until after New Year’s. But I won’t stay that long. I can’t. I can’t stomach sleeping in the bed we shared. The ghost of him is everywhere. I still feel his hands on my skin. The aftermath of his powerful thrusts still burns. He fucked me for hours, deep into the night all the while knowing it was over—planning to leave me a broken bird, unable to fly.

  A crowd of merrymakers laugh, chucking melting snow at one another. It’s Boxing Day in Britain. Everyone in this city is celebrating with family, friends—their lovers. But he ripped me away from my family, I don’t have any friends here and my lover ghosted me in his misguided belief that he needed to let me go so we could both fly.

  My eyes flick to the clock on the wall. I have twenty minutes to catch my train. I lift the hot tea to my lips and finish my scone. I grab my backpack and stand, swinging it over one shoulder.

  “Good day, miss.”

  I can’t even smile or be polite. I feel so numb, so broken—as if all my good days are in the past. And I don’t even mean the ones I spent with Christos these past few weeks. My good days were the ones that I didn’t even realize were good. The ones I spent daydreaming at the beach, cooking dinner with my mother… playing checkers with dad and beating the pants off him. What a shame that I wasted them. If I ever do have children one day—I’ll teach them not to waste theirs.

  I stuff my hands in my coat, feeling for the train ticket I purchased at a kiosk. Christos underestimates me if he really believes I won’t return. Part of me hopes this was just a test to see if I would fly once the door to my cage was sprung wide. I will fly. Straight back into his arms.

  With my eyes down and a heavy heart that I try not to trip over, I make my way down the steps into the tube station finding the one that will drop me out where I need to be to catch the train leaving London.

  Exmoor.

  I’m grateful that I found a way to travel by train back to the mystical lands I miss. With any luck my dark star will be there. If he’s not, I’ll break-in and wait for his return. He left me with my laptop. Did he really think I wouldn’t Google him and find the exact address of the estate he held me captive in? Or look up the London address to his company?

  The hunted has become the huntress. br />
  I learned there were no walls he wouldn’t run through to find me. This time, I will be the one to smash through walls until I find him.

  The hired cab struggles in the thick slush. My hand tucked in my pocket clutches the folded money Christos left behind. I hated to take it but it’s a necessity I need to find him.

  My mind processes what my eyes compute in disbelief. Large iron gates bar the entrance to his estate. Thick chains twine through the bars. It’s locked with an iron lock the size of a man’s fist.

  “Miss?”

  “It’s okay, this is fine. Let me out here.”

  “But…miss. There’s no one here…you’ll freeze.”

  “I’ll be fine. Here.” I shove the notes into his hand and fling my backpack over my shoulder as I get out.

  The cold air bites my face.

  I’m home. My soul whispers.

  The cabbie shrugs, mumbles under his breath but I shut the door on him, transfixed by the sprawling mansion that was home. I’ve been in London less than a week, but it feels like I was gone much longer than that.

  Walking to the gate, my fingers gently touch the lock. Then my finger traces the pattern on the chains. He roped them into a heart across the gate with a big, fat lock at the bottom. It’s beautifully symbolic and so him. My bruised heart slows at the message he left me: His heart is locked. Bound and chained—closed off to me.

  For now.

  Sighing, I walk the perimeter of the iron fence, until it blends in with the shrubs. Tilting my head back, I calculate the odds I could scale it and land on the other side. I decide to go for it.

  The once caged bird, is about to break back in. With my backpack fastened tight, I pull on my gloves, double tie the laces at my boots, and grip the iron fence with each hand. Slowly, I climb, shimming up like an inch worm. When I reach the peak where the sharp bars point into brass arrows, I grip the fence hard with one hand and unclip my backpack, swinging it around and dropping it over the other side—praying my laptop won’t smash as I aim to land it on a tall hedge.

  “Here goes nothing,” I whisper to the wind. One leg swings over. My hips straddle the top of the fence the way I would a saddle. But I grip the icy metal poles hard with my legs. Getting stabbed in the crotch with the pointy tip of a fence is far beyond my limit of BDSM shit. Gingerly, I lift my other leg swinging it over as well. I slide the rest of the way like I used to on the fireman pole at the playground.

  The one back in California.

  Shit.

  My parents.

  My old life.

  Does Christos really expect me to just pop back in? As if the better part of the year I spent with him never happened? That he never faked my death?

  My resurrection is going to be a real shit-show if it ever happens. Finally, the heels of my boots land in iced-over snow, landing with a crunch.

  I gather my backpack, slide it over one shoulder and jog over the lawn to the side door of the house. The very one I snuck out of, geez was it only a few months ago? Time gets lost here in these woods next to the enchanted royal forest at Exmoor.

  The door’s locked.

  I thought it would be, but part of me still thrives on the hope this is just another one of his mind games. A test of sorts. Moving to the side of the house, I press my hands to the glass, peering inside.

  It’s an empty shell.

  Just like I was when I first arrived.

  The lights are all off.

  The halls are silent.

  He’s gone.

  Rounding the back of the house, I stop. My heart starts beating again.

  I was wrong.

  There is life here.

  Horses covered in blankets huddle close together in the field beside the barn. Warmth starts to fill through my heart again.

  “Hey there,” I greet one, who nuzzles my hand for a treat. “Sorry, buddy. I didn’t bring any with me.” His breath creates hot puffs of white mist as he nudges me again, insisting I must be wrong.

  “Hold on, ok? I’ll check the barn for any treats.” I gently stroke his face then turn towards the barn. Someone must be here.

  The door slides open, warmer air hits my face. Ollie the barn cat opens one eye from where he was sleeping curled up on a bale of hay. I walk in, sliding the doors shut behind me. Pausing to scratch Ollie between his ears, I walk on light feet to Simone’s stall.

  “Hello beauty. Miss me?” She comes closer to the velvet rope, neighing softly as I rub her nose. “Where did he go? Surely he didn’t leave you to fend for yourself?”

  Her soulful eyes, stare into mine.

  She’s wise and beautiful. A majestic creature who’s attuned to my emotions. She always was. Maybe that’s why I bonded to her. Tears I didn’t even know I was shedding, fall on her soft muzzle.

  “Sorry, girl.” My fingers rub them away. She pushes against my touch, trying to comfort me. The sound of muffled voices come closer. I take my backpack off, duck under the rope across her stall and hide.

  The back door to the barn opens. “He thinks she might show up here. You know what to do if she does…” Boris trails off menacingly. That man always creeped me out.

  “Yes. Your instructions were clear,” Will replies. He walks past Simone’s stall grabbing a few lead ropes. He sees me when he turns.

  I press my index finger against my lips, begging him with my eyes to stay quiet. “Like I said, if she comes here, I’ll call you on your cell. My job is to see to the horses. It’s getting late and I need to bring them in before the wolves come looking for food.”

  “I’m staying over at a pub in town. The security system at the house is linked to my phone. I’ll be back around noon tomorrow. Here…” Boris walks closer, his arm is visible, holding out a handgun to Will.

  “No. I’ll be fine without that,” he dismisses, “no one visits Exmoor in the winter.”

  Boris grunts, “My balls are nearly frozen. I’m going to warm them real good tonight.”

  I cringe. The thought of Boris in bed is gross. He probably has to pay a woman to go there with him. I think if he could get away with it, he would hurt me and make it look like an accident. I stay hidden with Simone long after they leave. The barn is heated but it’s still too cold for me.

  Leaving my backpack, I duck under the rope and go to the tack room. Finding an old wool blanket in a trunk, I grab that, and a cup of coffee Will had brewed earlier.

  “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “I had to come. I know you don’t understand.”

  “I’m autistic, not stupid. But apparently, you are.”

  “I probably am. I should be at the police station in London, or the US Embassy. But I’m not. I’m here looking for the devil. Well, devil turned angel.”

  “He’s not here; with no plans on coming back, that I know of.”

  My shoulders sag, “Where did he go?”

  “I don’t know. But he left the UK. I overheard Boris setting up a security detail for him at Heathrow.”

  I bite my lip, my chin quivers.

  I feel so alone.

  Helpless.

  Abandoned.

  I try not to, but the tears do what they wish as the roll down my face. “This place is bad for you. You need to leave.”

  “I-I can’t. There’re no more trains back to London until tomorrow. And I won’t risk running into Boris in town. I’ll sleep here in the barn.”

  Will places a hand on my shoulder, “I’m sorry, Jessie. I don’t understand you, but I understand pain.”

  “Thanks.”

  He holds out a lead to me, “Fancy helping me bring the horses in?”

  “Sure.”

  We work in silence, bringing them in two at a time, giving each of them fresh hay and water until the last one is tucked away for the night.

  “All right then, I’m off. Stay out of sight. I’ll be in the bunk house with the other men.”

  “There’s more men here?”

  “Yes. Christos has security year-round at
all his properties. Boris was just sent here to watch you. He stayed behind in case you turned up.”

  “What were his orders, if I did? Do you think he’d bring me to Christos?”

  “No. He was ordered to bring you to Alex and Helena’s for them to see to your care. Boris had Christos on speaker. He wasn’t sure you could handle freedom but felt you earned it. If you were too damaged to fly, he said Alex and Helena would see to your needs.

  I shiver. “Thank you for staying silent. I wouldn’t feel safe in their care.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  “Ok. I can drive you to the train in the morning after the horses are turned out before Boris comes.”

  “Thanks, Will.”

  He nods, awkwardly, leaving me alone with the horses and Ollie for the night. I grab the blanket and make a bed outside Simone’s stall with a few bales of hay. I open my backpack taking out the astronomy book Christos gave me. Ollie purrs as he jumps in my lap. I read to him and Simone about the stars, the galaxy and worlds man may never step foot on.

  Will said this place was bad for me.

  But he’s wrong.

  Even tucked in a drafty barn, with nothing but animals, I’ve never felt more at home.

  “I’LL MISS YOU.” I rub Simone’s nose, then bend down to scratch Ollie between his ears, “I’ll miss you too.”

  “We need to leave. Boris could show soon.”

  “I know. Once all I thought about was escaping this place…now I never want to leave.”

  “Maybe he’s right.”

  “What?”

  “I hear things… Most people look right through me or forget I’m even here. But you never did.”

  “Of course, Will. You are my only human friend here at Exmoor.”

  “He thinks that he damaged you. Made you love him. His therapist told him so.”

  I walk toward him, placing a gloved hand on his arm. “This is very important Will. I need you to remember everything you heard.”

  He shrugs, “I was inside the house. I needed to ask Mr. Devillo permission to order new supplies for the barn. I stopped outside his door when he was on the phone. He had it on speaker. He was adding logs to the fire in his office—it was a woman. He kept referring to her as Dr. Evans. She told him you had something…a syndrome. I don’t understand…”