Chord of War Deleted Chapter

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Bitter Freedom

Jade

I slammed the apartment door behind me, my hands shaking so badly I dropped my keys twice trying to lock it. The weight of failure pressed against my chest, making each breath a struggle. Tonight’s gig had been worse than a disaster—it had been a public execution of everything I’d ever believed about myself as an artist.

The apartment was dark and silent. Sean was still at The Kill Zone, handling the fallout from some security breach. Thank God. I was grateful for the solitude. I couldn’t bear for anyone—especially him—to see me like this: utterly broken, stripped of the armor I’d worn my entire adult life.

My signature song—the one that had earned me my first standing ovation, the one I could play in my sleep—had fallen apart in my hands tonight. Wrong chords, forgotten lyrics, my voice cracking on the high notes.

The borrowed guitar felt alien in my grip, a poor substitute for my vandalized instrument. The audience had been distracted by construction noise, conversations gradually drowning out my performance until I was just background static to their evening.

I’d fled mid-set, ignoring Hunter’s concerned frown, ducking Alex’s attempt to intercept me. The shame burned hot in my veins.

I yanked open Sean’s liquor cabinet, seeking the whiskey I knew he kept somewhere. My fingers closed around the bottle just as the front door opened.

Sean’s broad silhouette filled the doorway, blocking the hallway light. I froze, clutching the bottle to my chest, hoping the darkness concealed the tear tracks on my face.

“Jade?” His voice came gentle, completely at odds with his imposing frame. “You okay?”

The question, so simple and yet so impossible to answer, broke something loose inside me. A sound escaped my throat—not quite a sob, not quite a laugh, but something raw and wounded that I’d never let anyone hear before.

“Stellar,” I managed, my voice cracking. “Just fucking stellar.”

He closed the door quietly and moved toward me without turning on lights. In the glow from the city outside, I watched him approach with the deliberate care of someone who understood broken things. He stopped a few feet away, close enough to reach out but not crowding me.

“I heard what happened,” he said, no judgment coloring his tone.

“Did you catch the part where I forgot the lyrics to my own damn song?” I unscrewed the whiskey cap with trembling fingers. “Or maybe the highlight where I fucked up the same chord progression three times in a row? Or my personal favorite—when that guy in the front row asked if the open mic night was always this pathetic?”

I raised the bottle to my lips, but Sean’s hand intercepted it.

“This won’t help,” he said, taking the bottle and setting it on the counter. “Trust me, I’ve tried that route.”

“Then what will?” I demanded, anger flaring to cover the humiliation. “Because I’ve got nothing, Sean. My guitar’s destroyed, my reputation’s in the toilet, and I just proved every single rejection letter right. I’m not good enough. Never was.”

“Bullshit.”

The word cut clean through the darkness.

“You didn’t see me out there tonight,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself. “It was a train wreck.”

“No, I saw you last week,” he countered, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I saw this.”

He tapped the screen, and suddenly my voice filled the space between us—clear, powerful, a recording of me performing at The Kill Zone before everything went to hell. The song was one of my originals, something raw and honest I’d written about chasing dreams that kept slipping through my fingers.

I stared at the small screen, mesmerized by the sight of myself lost in the music, eyes closed, every line of my body expressing what the lyrics conveyed. The woman on the screen looked nothing like how I felt right now—she was confident, passionate, undeniable.

“That’s not me,” I whispered.

“It is,” Sean insisted, stepping closer. “That’s who you are, Jade. One bad night doesn’t erase this.”

When the recording ended, he set the phone down and moved into my space. His hands framed my face, thumbs sweeping away tears I hadn’t noticed falling.

“You know what I saw tonight?” he asked, his voice dropping to that low register that bypassed my ears and settled directly in my core. “I saw someone get knocked down and retreat to lick her wounds. But that’s not who you are, Kitten. You get back up. You always do.”

The nickname, spoken with tenderness rather than dominance, pierced through my defenses. I leaned into his touch, too drained to maintain the walls between us.

“I don’t know if I can this time,” I admitted, barely audible.

“You can,” he said with absolute certainty. “And you will. But not tonight. Tonight, you just need to remember who you are.”

His thumb traced my lower lip, the touch feather-light yet electric. “Let me show you,” he murmured, the words balanced perfectly between request and command.

I should have pulled away. Should have insisted on nursing my wounds in private. Instead, I found myself nodding, surrendering to whatever he offered.

Sean’s lips met mine in a kiss unlike any we’d shared before—not the frantic passion of Long Beach or the heated claiming of our almost-encounters since. This was achingly gentle, a reverence that made my chest tighten with emotions I couldn’t name.

He guided me backward until my spine met the wall, his body caging mine without crushing. One hand remained on my face, the other sliding down to grip my hip, anchoring me to the present when I wanted to float away on a tide of shame and failure.

“I see you, Jade,” he murmured against my lips. “Not the rockstar, not the bartender. You. And you’re fucking magnificent.”

The praise slipped beneath my armor, touching places I’d kept carefully guarded. His hand moved from my hip to the hem of my shirt, fingers brushing bare skin in silent question.

I answered by raising my arms, letting him pull the fabric over my head. The cool air pebbled my skin, but Sean’s heat enveloped me immediately, his hands mapping my ribs, my waist, the curve of my spine with reverent precision.

“So beautiful,” he said, voice rough with desire but touch still gentle. “So strong, even when you don’t feel it.”

He guided me away from the wall, through the darkened apartment to his bedroom. The king-sized bed where we’d spent last night tangled together loomed large, sheets still rumpled from our morning awakening.

Sean positioned me before the full-length mirror in the corner, his solid warmth at my back. His hands circled my waist, then slid up to cup my breasts through my bra.

“Look,” he commanded, his voice soft yet unyielding, beard tickling my shoulder. “See what I see.”

In the mirror stood a stranger—hair wild from frustrated fingers, eyes dark and vulnerable, skin flushed with desire and lingering emotion. Behind me, Sean was controlled power incarnate, tattooed arms encircling me, intense blue gaze fixed on my reflection.

“I see someone brave enough to climb on stage night after night,” he said, one hand sliding up to my throat, not squeezing, just resting there, feeling my pulse race beneath his palm. “Someone who bleeds her soul into every note, even when the audience doesn’t deserve it.”

His other hand worked the clasp of my bra, releasing it to fall away. The contrast of our bodies in the mirror was mesmerizing—his tanned, inked skin against my paler form, his size making me look delicate in a way I never thought of myself.

“I see someone who fights,” he continued, his hands returning to my breasts, thumbs circling the dusky, sensitive peaks until they hardened beneath his touch. “Someone who runs sometimes, yes, but always comes back to face what scares her.”

My head fell back against his shoulder as sensation overwhelmed me. I instinctively wound my arms up and back, curling them around his neck, anchoring myself to him. The position arched my back, thrusting my breasts more fully into his hands. His mouth found my neck, teeth scraping over my pulse before his tongue soothed the sting.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he ordered, voice deepening with arousal. “Watch. See yourself as I see you.”

I forced my eyes open, meeting his gaze in the mirror. What I saw there—raw desire mixed with absolute certainty—weakened my knees. Sean’s hands moved lower, unfastening my jeans and pushing them down along with my underwear. I stepped out of them, now completely naked while he remained fully clothed.

The vulnerability should have terrified me. Instead, it felt like freedom.

Sean’s hand traced the curve of my hip, then slid between my thighs, finding me already slick for him. “Fuck, you’re soaked,” he murmured approvingly. “Such a good girl, so wet for me. So honest, at least with this.”

His fingers parted me slowly, deliberately, as if memorizing every detail. When one fingertip circled my clit with exquisite precision, my breath caught audibly. His eyes never left our reflection, watching how my body responded to his touch—the way my lips parted, the flush spreading down my neck to my chest, how my hips instinctively sought more contact. He played my body with the same skill I played my guitar.

“Sean,” I gasped as he slid one finger inside me, then another, curling them to find that spot that made stars explode behind my eyes. My inner walls clenched around him immediately, a sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan escaping me.

“That’s it,” he breathed against my ear, his voice a dark caress. “Let me hear you. No holding back. Not tonight. Tell me what you need.”

“More,” I whispered, shocked by my own boldness.

“More what, Kitten.” 

“More of you, Sean. Just you,” I whimpered, the word torn from somewhere deep inside me. “I need you.”

The confession hung in the air between us, weighted with meaning beyond the physical. Sean’s expression in the mirror shifted, something almost vulnerable flashing in his eyes before he masked it. 

“You have me,” he muttered, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of my shoulder, rolling my swollen clit between his fingers and pinching lightly, prompting a moan. “You’ve had me since the first moment I saw you.”

A wicked smile curved his lips, primitive and satisfied as he licked his way up my neck, nibbling the sensitive spot behind my ear. “But since you asked so fucking nicely…”

He added a second finger, stretching me deliciously as he curled them to stroke that spot that made my vision blur. His rhythm was maddeningly perfect—slow, then fast, deep, then teasing—as if he’d spent a lifetime learning my body’s responses.

“Look how fucking gorgeous you are,” he murmured, using his free hand to grip my jaw when my eyes started to close. “Flushed and desperate. For me.”

He bit down on my earlobe, just hard enough to send a jolt of pleasurable pain straight to my core. “I want you to touch yourself,” he growled. “Show me how you like it.”

My eyes widened at the command, but I found myself obeying, bringing one hand down from around his neck to where his fingers were working inside me. Hesitantly, I circled my clit, my movements growing more confident when I saw the raw hunger in his eyes.

“That’s it, Kitten,” he praised roughly. “So fucking sexy when you follow orders.”

His free hand left my throat, and in the mirror, I watched as he stepped back just enough to unbuckle his belt one-handed, freeing himself from the confines of his jeans. My breath caught at the sight of him taking his impressive length in his hand, stroking slowly as he continued to work his fingers inside me.

“See what you do to me?” he demanded, voice ragged. “How fucking hard you make me? Been like this since the day we met.”

The dual visual—his hand on himself, his fingers buried inside me, both of us touching ourselves while watching in the mirror—was the most erotic thing I’d ever experienced. I increased the pressure on my clit, matching the rhythm of his strokes.

“Sean,” I gasped, my fingers moving faster as his did. “I’m going to—”

“Not yet,” he commanded, suddenly withdrawing his fingers. I whimpered at the loss, but before I could protest, he spun me around, lifting me effortlessly. My back hit the wall beside the mirror, and instinctively my legs wrapped around his waist.

“When you come,” he growled against my throat, “it’s going to be with me buried so deep inside you that you don’t know where I end and you begin.”

He captured my mouth in a kiss that was pure possession, his tongue invading as his hands gripped my ass, holding me up with seemingly no effort. The strength of him, the way he man handled me with such ease, sent a fresh flood of arousal between my thighs.

“Please,” I begged when he finally broke the kiss, “I need you inside me. Now.”

“What do you need, Kitten?” he demanded, his voice harsh with desire. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you.”

The words spilled out before I could censor them. “I need you to fuck me. Hard. Make me forget everything but how good you feel inside me.”

A feral sound rumbled from his chest. “Hold onto me,” he ordered.

I tightened my legs around him, arms clinging to his shoulders as he carried me to the bed. Instead of laying me down gently, he knelt on the mattress and practically threw me onto my back, the controlled violence of the motion making me gasp with excitement.

He yanked his shirt over his head, revealing the full glory of his tattooed torso. The wolf on his shoulder seemed to watch with predatory interest, the anchor on his forearm shifting as muscles flexed beneath skin. The intricate patterns winding around his ribs looked like war paint in the dim light, armor that had somehow failed to protect his heart from me.

I reached for him, tracing the lines of ink with trembling fingers. “You’re beautiful too, you know,” I said softly.

Something flashed in his eyes—surprise, maybe, or vulnerability quickly masked. He captured my hand, bringing it to his mouth to suck two of my fingers between his lips, his tongue swirling around the tips in a clear preview of what was to come.

“Tonight isn’t about me,” he said, releasing my fingers with a wet pop. “Tonight is about reminding you who the fuck you are.”

He stood long enough to strip off his jeans and boxers, his cock springing free, thick and hard and intimidating in the best possible way. The sight of him—all raw power barely contained—made my mouth water with anticipation.

Sean moved back onto the bed with feline grace, but instead of covering my body with his, he flipped me onto my stomach with startling ease.

“What are you—” I began, then gasped as he grabbed my hips, pulling them up while pressing my upper body down, positioning me on my knees with my chest against the mattress.

“I want to see all of you,” he said, his hands kneading the flesh of my ass. “Every fucking inch.”

He delivered a sharp smack to my right cheek, the sting radiating outward in waves of heat. Before I could process the sensation, he soothed the spot with his palm, then repeated the action on the left side.

“You like that, don’t you, Kitten?” he asked, his voice knowing. “The edge of pain with your pleasure.”

“Yes,” I admitted, the word a muffled moan against the sheets.

He leaned over me, his chest pressed to my back, his cock nestled against the cleft of my ass. “What was that?” he demanded, his hand fisting in my hair, turning my head so he could see my face. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes,” I repeated, louder this time, my eyes watering slightly. “I like it.”

His smile was pure sin. “Good girl.”

He released my hair, sitting back on his heels. I felt the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance, teasing but not breaching.

“Beg me, Kitten,” he commanded, his voice rough with need. “Tell me how badly you want my cock inside you.”

The old Jade would have bristled at the demand, would have refused on principle. But this Jade—the one he’d reduced to pure need and desire—had no such reservations.

“Please, Sailor Boy,” I begged, pushing my hips back against him. “Please fuck me. I need you inside me. Need you to fill me up.”

With a growl of approval, he thrust forward, entering me in one powerful stroke that had me crying out in a mixture of pleasure and sweet pain. He was huge, stretching me to my limits, the burn quickly giving way to incredible fullness.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, his hands gripping my hips with bruising force. “So tight. So slick and wet for me.”

He held still for a moment, letting me adjust to his size. When I squirmed impatiently, he chuckled darkly.

“Always in such a hurry,” he said, delivering another stinging smack to my ass that had me clenching around him. “But I’m going to take my time with you tonight.”

True to his word, his first thrusts were agonizingly slow, measured withdrawals followed by deep, deliberate entries that had me clutching the sheets in desperation. Each stroke hit spots inside me that sent sparks of pleasure shooting up my spine.

“Please,” I whimpered, trying to push back against him, to force him to increase his pace.

“Please what?” he asked, his voice strained but still in control.

“Harder,” I begged. “Faster. I need—”

My words cut off in a gasp as he suddenly complied, his hips snapping forward with new urgency, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. One hand remained on my hip, guiding my movements to meet his thrusts, while the other slid up my spine to tangle in my hair, pulling just hard enough to arch my back at a new angle.

The change in position allowed him to hit a spot that made stars explode behind my eyelids. “Right there,” I cried out. “Oh god, Sean, right there!”

“I know exactly where you need it,” he growled, maintaining the angle as he pounded into me with increasing force. “Been studying your body since Long Beach. Learning every spot that makes you scream.”

He was right—he seemed to know my body better than I did, each thrust precisely calibrated to drive me wild. The coil of tension in my core wound tighter with every stroke, threatening to snap at any moment.

“Not yet,” he commanded, as if reading my thoughts. “Don’t you dare come until I tell you to.”

The order, delivered in that authoritative tone, somehow made the building pleasure even more intense. I bit my lip, trying desperately to hold back the orgasm that was rapidly approaching.

Sean released my hair, his hand sliding beneath me to find my clit. The first direct touch nearly undid me, and I had to bite down hard on the sheets to keep from coming immediately.

“That’s it,” he praised, his voice hoarse with his own approaching climax. “Fight it. Show me how good you can be for me, Kitten.”

His pace increased, each thrust harder and deeper than the last, his fingers circling my clit with devastating skill. The dual stimulation was overwhelming, pleasure building to almost unbearable heights.

“Sean,” I gasped, my entire body trembling with the effort of holding back. “I can’t—I need—”

“Look at me,” he demanded, suddenly pulling out completely. Before I could protest the loss, he flipped me onto my back, positioning himself between my thighs once more. His eyes were wild, pupils blown with desire, a thin ring of blue barely visible around the edges. “I want to see your face when you come for me.”

He entered me again in one powerful thrust, the new angle hitting even deeper. My legs wrapped around his waist automatically, pulling him closer as my arms encircled his shoulders, nails digging into the muscle there.

“Now,” he growled, his thumb finding my clit again as his hips pistoned relentlessly. “Come for me now, Kitten. Let me feel you.”

The permission was all I needed. Pleasure exploded outward from my core, more intense than anything I’d ever experienced. My inner walls clamped down on him like a vise, muscles rippling along his length as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed through me. I screamed his name, the sound torn from somewhere primal and unguarded.

“Fuck, Jade,” he groaned, his rhythm faltering as my orgasm triggered his own. “So fucking good. Taking me so well.”

I felt him swell and pulse inside me, his release prolonging my pleasure until I was certain I might actually die from the intensity. His body tensed above mine, every muscle defined in sharp relief as he emptied himself with a hoarse shout of my name.

For endless moments afterward, neither of us moved. He remained buried inside me, our bodies connected in the most intimate way possible, both trembling with aftershocks. His weight pressed me into the mattress, but rather than feeling trapped, I felt anchored—tethered to reality when I might otherwise have floated away on the tide of sensation.

When he finally moved, it was to brush his lips against mine in a kiss so tender it made my throat tight with emotion. He eased out of me carefully, then gathered me against his chest, one arm curved protectively around me while his free hand brushed damp hair from my face.

“Absolutely fucking incredible,” he murmured, the awe in his voice unmistakable. “Never felt anything like that in my life.”

The raw honesty in his words—the implication that this was somehow different, more significant than what had come before—cracked some tiny part open inside me that I’d somehow managed to still keep guarded.

Until now.

“You okay?” he asked, voice gentle.

The last of my defenses crumbled. Tears welled up, spilling over before I could stop them. Sean didn’t panic or pull away. He simply held me closer, his hand making soothing circles on my back as I cried.

“Let it all out, baby,” he murmured. “I’m right here. Not going anywhere.”

And he wasn’t. He held me through the storm, his strength a shelter I hadn’t known I needed. When the tears finally subsided, leaving me hollow and spent, he pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“Thank you,” I whispered, uncertain if I meant for the pleasure, the comfort, or the understanding—perhaps all three.

Sean’s arms tightened around me briefly. “No thanks needed, Kitten,” he said, his voice a rough caress against my hair. “This is where you belong. Right here with me.”

I should have melted further into his embrace. Should have let myself drift into sleep, safe and satisfied. Instead, as clarity returned, so did a terrifying realization I hadn’t fully grasped before.

What just happened between us had shattered something fundamental. In the wake of my professional failure, I’d given Sean something far more dangerous than my body. I’d surrendered my most closely guarded secret: that beneath all my fierce independence lived a woman desperate to be seen, held, and understood exactly as I was.

The truth hit me with sudden, brutal clarity. This wasn’t just emotional vulnerability—this was total exposure. I’d given Sean the power to destroy me completely. If he saw all of me and still walked away… I wouldn’t survive it.

Carefully, I disentangled myself from his arms, sitting up with my back to him. The cool air raised goosebumps on my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of his body.

“Jade?” His voice held a note of concern.

“I can’t do this,” I said, barely audible.

The mattress shifted as he sat up behind me, his hand resting on my shoulder. “Can’t do what?”

I turned to face him, pulling the sheet up as if it could somehow shield me now. “This. Us. Whatever this is becoming.”

Confusion and the first hints of hurt darkened his expression. “What are you fucking talking about? After what just happened—”

“That’s exactly the problem,” I interrupted. “What just happened wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t just comfort.” I swallowed hard. “You made me feel… seen. Completely. And that terrifies me more than anything.”

“Why?” he asked, direct and unflinching.

The answer rose unbidden. “Because now you have everything. The power to wound me in ways no one else ever could.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ve never given anyone that before. Not even close.”

“Jade—”

“I let my guard down tonight because I was already broken,” I pressed on. “But I can’t keep doing this. The more I let you in, the less of myself I’ll have left if—when—this ends.”

“Who says it has to end?” His jaw tightened.

“Everything ends, Sean. Especially the things that matter.” I forced myself to meet his eyes. “I gave you parts of myself tonight I can never take back. That’s why I can’t do this again. It was a mistake.”

The words landed heavy between us. I watched hurt bloom in his eyes, quickly masked by anger.

“A mistake,” he repeated, voice flat. “That’s what you’re going with?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, knowing the words were hollow. “I just… I can’t.”

Sean’s jaw clenched, muscle jumping beneath his beard. For a long moment, he said nothing, just studied me with an expression I couldn’t read. Then he stood, reaching for his discarded sweatpants.

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself,” he said evenly, “I can’t stop you. But we both know the fucking truth, Jade.”

He pulled on his pants and moved toward the door, pausing at the threshold to look back at me. “When you’re ready to stop running from the one real thing in your life, you know where to find me.”

Then he was gone, the soft click of the bedroom door more devastating than if he’d slammed it. I flinched when the front door actually did slam.

I sat alone in his bed, the sheets still warm from our bodies, his scent surrounding me. The emptiness in my chest felt physical, expanding with each breath.

You did the right thing, Jade-y girl.

Protected us both from the devastation that would come when he saw all of me and inevitably walked away. Better to end things now, before he realized I wasn’t who he thought I was—wasn’t worthy of the unwavering faith he placed in me.

Better to control the explosion than be destroyed by it.

But as I curled into myself, wrapped in sheets that smelled of him, of us, the certainty slipped away, leaving only one searing question:

If I’d made the right choice, why did it feel like losing the only thing that ever truly mattered?