Beautiful Nightmares (The Asylum Trilogy) (2 page)

Chapter Two

~Before~

Sometimes I wonder if every girl and woman envisions what their wedding will be like. I wonder if they picture themselves dressed from head to toe in white satin and lace. Or if they imagine their Daddy’s walking them down the aisle in a church packed full of friends and loved ones. I wonder if they picture a reception a lot like a gala where all of their family and friends come to shower them with gifts, dine on lamb with a garnish of mint sauce, and then they dance until midnight to celebrate their union.

I never had those thoughts.

I never thought I’d live to see my wedding day.

Daddy sucked those private thoughts from my head like a vacuum sucking up a dust ball from the floor.

But here I am.

Today, I am getting married.

I have no family friends to help celebrate this joyous day. Neither does Elijah, so we both settled on a simple marriage by the justice of the peace. After all, we don’t need family now and all the fuss that accompanies a wedding when family is involved. We are each other’s family.

And I couldn’t be happier about that.

I know this because the minute I show up in the courtroom, my midnight locks splayed across my shoulders, wearing my simple, form fitting, boat-neck, white dress that stops just below my knee caps, our eyes lock. Elijah smiles, his breath falters as does mine and I smile in return. My heart flutters in my chest so full of love and joy and an un-waning desire. I know that this day, my wedding day, will be by far the best day of my life.

A life that I can’t wait to share with Elijah.

With slow, steady steps I breeze past row after row of wooden benches, trying to banish the flashback of the last time I was in a courtroom from my mind. How sick and diluted am? Why am I thinking of one of the lowest points in my life on one of the happiest days?

Maybe it’s because I was certain that my daddy’s trial was the last time I thought I’d ever see the inside of a court room and being in one again, even though it isn’t the same one, has brought back painful memories.

But the minute I reach Elijah and he laces his fingers through mine, bringing my right wrist to his lips with a smile and it’s like every torturous memory or thought seeps from my mind protruding through my skin, before cascading down my temples. I beam at the man across from me.

My husband to be.

The conflicted doctor who saved my life.

A man who was somehow able to banish the darkness inside of me and make me feel whole again.

He leans in close, his lips so close to my ear that his warm breath curls around my earlobe and covers it like a down comforter. “You leave me breathless,” he says in a husky tone.

I tighten my grip on his fingertips as we turn to face the tall, bulky, and bald judge. There’s a gleam of conviction in Elijah’s eyes. It’s like he’s never been more certain or determined to do anything in his entire life. It’s like our union is the one thing he wants to excel at. Even more than practicing medicine.

I know this and feel this too.

So when the judge, dressed in a black, flowing robe speaks, I tell myself that I’m ready to take this plunge with Elijah. I’m ready to wade through the dark, murky waters of both of our pasts. And I’m ready to spend the rest of my life hopelessly devoted to the man I love, something I’ve wanted since I was seventeen years old.

After our brief exchange of vows and rings our union is sealed with two radiant smiles, two sets of lips, and one life altering kiss. We are bound. Husband and Wife. Dr. and Mrs. Elijah Watson.

Elijah refuses to give me the details of our honeymoon destination. This is infuriating to me. I am not the same girl I was when he found me. I’ve since discovered the opinionated part of me that was lying dormant for most of my youth. The part of me that was hidden because of fear and control and uncertainty. “I don’t understand why you can’t just tell me,” I huff, looking to my left. Elijah is in the seat next to me on the airplane. He always lets me have the window seat. He knows how fascinated I am by watching the world move on beneath us as we fly across it.

He smirks. “It would ruin the surprise.”

I let out a sharp breath, sink down into my seat, and stare back out the window. Sometimes I think the surprises are getting old. We’ve been together for some time now, and I have to admit, at first him wanting to show me the world was thrilling. There were times where I felt like we were navigating through the greatest adventures of our lives, but now, the thrill has faded a tiny bit. Mostly, I just want him to include me in some of the decisions he makes involving us as a couple.

“I’ve made you angry?” This is a question not a statement.

I don’t look at him. “Not angry,” I tell him. “Just disappointed.”

“Disappointed.” His voice is lifeless, dull.

I face him. “No, no.” I lace my fingers through his. “Not in us or you. Don’t misunderstand me, love. I’m just disappointed that you won’t tell me where we’re going.”

“Well then,” he says with the slightest bit of excitement in his voice. “I promise that this is the last time I keep plans from you.” There’s sincerity in his amber eyes. “From this day on, I promise to include you in any decision that involves the both of us.”

I meet his gaze with a smile and rest my head on his shoulder. “Thank you,” I whisper.

Elijah kisses my forehead and I close my eyes as an anxious feeling pumps through me. It’s me and him, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, til death do us part.

Our journey as a married couple has just began.

And I can’t wait until we arrive at the first stop of the many stops in the journey of our lives.

Chapter Three

~Before~

Elijah’s voice flits through the moist Hawaiian air.

He sings with rasp.

And grit.

His fingers pluck the guitar strings in a precise pattern, never missing a strum or chord. I close my eyes feeling overwhelmed and at peace at the same time.
I feel lost. In a daze. I feel like I’m drowning and the only time that I’ll be able to come up for air is when he stops.

So he does.

Without me asking him to, of course. Even though, at times it’s like I’m hypnotized by his musical abilities, I love to listen to him play.

I love to listen to him sing.

I lie on my side across from him on the blanket we spread out across the sand. I close my eyes for a second, and then open them to Elijah’s penetrating gaze. I let out a soft laugh and say, “What?”

He twists his body,
placing his guitar back in its case. “Nothing.” He fastens the snaps on the case and stands, the case in his left hand, his right hand extended toward me. “Well, what do you say, Mrs. Watson? Shall we retire for the evening?”

I take his hand, smiling up at him as he helps me to my feet. “Would you like that, Mr. Watson?”

His lips touch my ear and his voice has taken on a husky tone. “Very much, Mrs. Watson.” I bite my lips to keep the moan from exiting my throat. “Hmm.” Now there’s vibrato in his voice. “On second thought.” He eyes the blanket with a salacious grin. Warm breath slices through my pores like the sharpened blade of a carving knife. “I want you,” Elijah groans, his teeth nipping my lower earlobe. He drops his guitar case in the sand.

“Here?” I gasp. “Now?” I scan the deserted beach, watching the waves with white crests as they crash into the sand.

Elijah lets out a low, raspy chuckle and peels the dark curtain of my hair away from my shoulder blade before kissing the bare patch of skin next to my dress strap. I suck in a deep breath when I feel the warmth from his mouth on my body and shiver when that warmth surges through all of my appendages before nestling in the pit of my stomach. “But we’re in a public place.” I keep my voice low, hushed.

“So.” I’m not facing him, but I hear the smile in his voice. No, it’s probably not a smile. It’s probably more of a greedy smirk. He sits back down on the blanket and give my arm a gentle tug. “Besides, we’re newlyweds. I think that entitles us to a few passionate yet exhibitionistic moments.”

I hesitate and just stare at him. There’s a nagging, terrified voice sounding off in my mind.
What if someone sees us? How mortifying would that be? What if we got in trouble by the hotel staff?
I know this sounds juvenile, but still. This is a new experience for me so when weighing the pros and cons I have to lay out all possible scenarios.

Elijah tugs on my arm a second time and I stumble forward, my knees hitting the sand. Reaching up, he steadies me, gripping my shoulders without force. “Am I being too insistent, Adelaide?” He lies down on his side and pats the empty spot in front of him. “If I am, I hope that you’ll tell me.” He lets out a soft sigh. “I just can’t help myself around you, Mrs. Watson. The want to have you all the time overwhelms me.”

I can feel a bonfire starting in my heart, working it’s way up to my cheeks. Desire singes my nerve endings and my whole body starts tingling. It’s crazy how this man can make me a mess inside. It’s crazy how he can make my mind hazy, my heart beat erratically, and how with a simple caress of a finger can make my whole body betray me. “But,” I hesitate, struggling to get the words out. I take a deep calming breath. “What if someone sees us?” I swallow a nervous quiver of fear that’s stuck in my throat.

“I’ll keep my ears open,” he remarks, wearing a mischievous smirk so sinful and so sweet it could rot a person’s teeth. “I promise.” With his sincere declaration fresh in my mind, I lie down in front of him, my back against his chest. His heart pounds, a dull beating drum vibrating through my skin. I focus on that sound. The sound of his heartbeat and tune out the noise that the rushing waters of the Pacific Ocean are making. “I love you, Mrs. Watson,” he says against my ear. There’s a hungry rasp in his baritone voice. “I hope you know that.”

“Of course I do,” I tell him. “I love you too.”

He rests his chin in the crook of my neck and slips his left hand underneath my waist, pulling me closed. We’re so close that our bodies are like sheets of metal melted together. He holds me tight against his chest then slides his right hand underneath the skirt of my dress. His fingertips travel from my calf, up to my inner thigh, leaving
goose bumps in their wake. His touch unglues me. It’s so soft. So intricate. So strategic. He knows exactly how to make me crumble beneath him. How to make me become and addict for him and only him.

After sliding my underwear down to my knees, his teeth graze my jawline before his lips wrap around my lower right earlobe. My breaths are coming out hollow and raspy. I’m holding back a moan that I want to let out. I love him. I want him. I need him. Inside of my head. Inside of my body. I think of the way his voice silences every thought running laps through my mind.

“Adelaide,” he murmurs, his hot breath caressing my ear. A growl leaves his lips as more hot air comes out of his mouth in torrents.

And then…

And then he spreads my legs, massaging my sex with two fingers. He leaves a trail of kisses from the curve of my neck down to my collarbone then kisses his way back up to my ear. “Do you want me inside of you, Adelaide?” He nips at my ear gently. “Hmm?”

He’s such a tease. I’m already squirming beneath his grasp, breathing heavily into my armpit, and almost whimpering because I want to feel him inside of me. “Please don’t make me beg,” I groan, turning my head.

Elijah begins to move his fingers, still in-between my legs in a circular motion. It’s driving me insane. “What was that, Mrs. Watson? Are you getting mouthy?” There’s cockiness in his tone and I open my mouth to comment, but I realize I have no words. I can’t speak. I’m silenced by his fingers against my flesh because I know if I tried to say anything, all I’d let out is a moan.

Oh God.

Oh God.

Oh God.

The second he removes his fingers, I feel like I’m receiving some cruel punishment. The area between my legs aches with want and I begin writhing my hips, wanting the release more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my entire life. “Please, Elijah. Please,” I say.

I feel his hot, moist lips against my ear. “Beg me.”

“You’re horrible,” I tell him. “You know that?”

He lets out a husky laugh that echoes across the star-filled heavens and I huff in frustration as he nips at my earlobe with his teeth. The sounds of his zipper swells in my ears while he leaves a trail of strategic kisses along the curve of my neck. I fight back the cry I want to let out when I feel Elijah between my legs. His hips thrust back and forth slowly and my lips find his. “I love you,” he murmurs.

“I love you too.”

Those are the last things we say to each other. After that, we focus on enjoying the first night of our honeymoon and make love under the stars.