Belonging (37 page)

Physically, she’d filled out, her face less gaunt, which was good because Kate told him when she was recovered she was nothing but skin and bones. But she looked far from the young woman he’d known. At least he didn’t
see
any bones visibly protruding. It was hard to say under the long sleeve Henley and dark jeans she wore. Her long brown curly locks looked healthy and just as he’d remembered. Or maybe he was projecting his images of old Jamie onto the new Jamie. At this point he had no fucking idea because his head felt like a jumbled, unwound ball of yarn.

Physically she looked fine, healthy even. But even though he’d yet to look into her eyes as she’d refused eye contact, there was no doubt she was haunted. Sadness surrounded her like a protective shroud and his heart bled for all that she had been through. All that he couldn’t protect her from.

“I wanted you to know that I don’t blame you, Mike,” she said softly.
Absolution?
He didn’t deserve it. He should have done more to protect his woman from those vermin.

But all thought vanished and his breath stopped the moment their eyes connected. No, Dev was wrong.
His
Jamie wasn’t gone; she was simply drowning so far beneath dark, murky waters she might never find her way to the surface again. He wanted to help her. She deserved to take full fresh lungful’s of life-giving oxygen again. She deserved to live the rest of her life happily and carefree. And for this woman who was once his entire world, he’d move heaven and earth to make that happen.

She continued as he’d apparently lost his ability to speak. “In fact, you actually helped me survive.” She broke their gaze, looking down at her lap. “My memories of you were the only thing I could hold onto at times.” Her voice broke and the tears started flowing. It took all his willpower not to pull her into his arms and he had to sit on his hands to keep from reaching for her.

“But I think that’s why it took me so long to see you.” Her eyes lifted to his again, the sadness in them heartbreaking. “Because I now associate you with them.”

Devastating pain unlike anything he’d ever felt, even losing her the first time, crashed over him like a tsunami, threatening to take him under to the bottom of the cold, dark ocean. Right now, he’d welcome the pain of a bullet or a knife wound over the agony those seven words inflicted on him.

“I’m sorry, Jamie,” was all he could choke out.

She shook her head and reached for his arm. He wanted to recoil from her touch because it still sent the same electrical current through his body as it did so many years ago. But this wasn’t about him; it was about her. And if she wanted to touch him, by God, he’d let her.

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry, Mike. It’s wrong. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help the way I feel. I am working through it, though. Today helped. Thank you for coming.” She smiled, or tried to anyway, but it didn’t reach her sad, haunted eyes.

“I’d do anything for you,” he rasped. “Anything.”

She squeezed his arm slightly, then stood and walked toward the entrance. She turned just as she reached it. “I’d like to see you again sometime if that’s okay?”

If that’s okay?
At this moment, no it wasn’t okay. It was far from okay, but being the glutton for punishment he was, of course he agreed. To help her, he’d gladly gut himself. That was the least he owed her, even though she didn’t think so. “Yes, of course, Jamie. Anytime.”

As she walked away from him, any hopes he’d secretly harbored about a happily ever after with Jamie were crushed. Blown into a million pieces, scattered to the earth. He poured himself a big goddamned glass of scotch, took a healthy gulp, and walked back to the bay window. Standing there lost in thought, he wasn’t quite sure exactly what he felt in that moment.

Anger?
Check.

Bitterness?
Check.

Crushing pain?
Abso-fucking-lutely.

Self-loathing?
Yup. Got a motherfucking Ph.D. in that one.

He was lost in his thoughts when he felt
her
presence. Christ, he was so attuned to her it made him sick.
How much had she heard?
With his luck, probably every crushing humiliating word. She was the last fucking person he needed to deal with right now and she needed to leave before he said something he’d truly regret.

“Not now, Giselle.” He tasted the bitter venom in his words. He kept his back to her, taking another big gulp of the liquid gold, washing the bitterness into his already acrid stomach. The burn felt good, it felt right. He deserved that and so much more.

He cringed when her hand touched his shoulder. It felt like heaven, but he needed it so badly to burn like hell instead. She turned him around to face her and the spiteful retort he’d had ready on his forked tongue died a quick death.

If he’d seen sympathy on her face, he’d have let the hateful words fly, but instead he saw empathy in her bright blue eyes. She’d walked a mile in his shoes and in this one brief moment he understood so much more about Giselle than in all their prior encounters. She’d never been this open or this vulnerable.

She said nothing, wrapping her gorgeous limbs around him instead. It was a display of comfort, tenderness…solidarity. And he found himself wanting nothing more than to cling to the lifeline that she’d so selflessly thrown to him.

So there he stood, in Devon Fallinsworth’s living room, hanging on for his very existence to the woman who’d breathed life back into his heart, while mourning the woman who’d shattered it for the second time.

C
hapter
53

Damian

They’d been sitting like this for over an hour. He was a mess. He knew it, but he couldn’t seem to pull himself out of the black abyss he was relentlessly swirling in.
Analise was safe
. All of the horrific things he’d agonized over didn’t happen, and outside of a few bumps and bruises that had already healed, she seemed no worse for the wear. She didn’t seem traumatized, but of course she wouldn’t. His Analise was a warrior. A survivor.

She’d told him repeatedly he wasn’t to blame, but how could she not see that he was? Believing he spoke the truth, he’d brought that monster into Dev’s home.
He
was one hundred percent to blame, no one else. And he would never forgive himself. How could Analise? How could she even want a mate who practically threw her to the wolves himself, doing nothing to protect her?

“Stop!” she yelled. Straddling his lap, she grabbed his cheeks so hard it almost hurt.
Wow…she’s gotten a lot stronger
. “That’s enough, vampire. Do you hear me? It’s time to stop your little pity party and come back to me, Damian.”

He stared at her, mouth agape. “Damian,” she sighed, “yes, you brought Geoffrey into the house, but I don’t believe it was under false pretenses. I think he was telling you the truth about Xavier.” She sighed, heavily this time. “I didn’t know…I mean, I wasn’t sure until today.”

“What weren’t you sure about?” His gut churned in dread to hear the next words out of her mouth. He knew she’d been holding something back and had been waiting for days for the other shoe to drop and her to tell him all of the horrific things that had
really
happened to her while being held under Xavier’s boot.

“I think that Beth is Geoffrey’s Moira and kidnapping me was his only recourse to protect her.”

His fury ignited. She was
protecting
the vampire who’d kidnapped her? “How can you possibly justify his actions, Analise?” he gritted, his teeth grinding so hard they hurt.

“Well…” He started to move her from his lap, unable to have this conversation with her. She’d so obviously been brainwashed while she was a prisoner, it now made sense why she would defend a kidnapping sociopath. She clamped her knees hard to his legs, effectively stopping him from removing her.

“Listen to me, dammit. I saw them, in my dream. He took care of her. He protected her. He looked at her the way you look at me. And when I was captive, Geoffrey was the only thing that kept Xavier from killing me, which he wanted to do many times. He protected me and I know that sounds bizarre, given the fact that he put me into that situation, but it’s the only thing that makes sense. He needed to get his Moira, Beth, out from under Xavier, and what better way to do that than kidnap a lord’s mate and have the cavalry come to the rescue? It makes perfect sense and you know it.”

Damian thought on her logic for several beats. And he, unfortunately, had to admit she might be onto something, but right or wrong it still didn’t negate the sting he felt at being duped. “What sort of pussy puts another vampire’s mate in danger to save his own? That’s dishonorable.”

She nodded her agreement. “Maybe. But the flip side to that is he could admit he wasn’t able to take on Xavier by himself and needed help that only the Lords could provide.”

“Why wouldn’t he just ask me then? I would have gladly brought in the cavalry without putting mine in danger.”

“That I don’t know. We may never know, but in my gut I know there’s a logical explanation. He wouldn’t have tried so hard to minimize the fallout otherwise.”

He stared at his mate with a newfound appreciation. “How did you get so wise, kitten?” He sweetly kissed her neck and a moan escaped her throat. His dick got hard at the erotic noise and a ravenous need to be inside her body overtook him. He began to disrobe her when she halted his movements.

“I have to tell you something else,” she confessed guiltily. And once again, that acid sitting in the pit of his stomach churned with renewed fervor. He swallowed thickly, waiting for a nuclear bomb that would annihilate his world once again.

“What?” He could barely get those four letters out. He wanted to take them back and replace them with ten new letters instead:
don’t tell me
.

“When I was prisoner, I had to tell Xavier that I…I…” Her eyes were glassy and tears threatened to spill. He wiped a stray that’d escaped.

“What, Analise? You can tell me.” True, she could tell him anything; he just couldn’t predict how he would react.

“I had to tell him that I didn’t love you.” Rivers now streamed down her beautiful face, streaking her makeup, and he could feel her genuine shame. Relief hit him so hard; he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.
That
was her confession? The guilt he’d been feeling left him faster than air from a popped balloon and he suddenly felt lighter than the wind. His mate was sitting safely on his lap and it didn’t matter how she got there; it only mattered that was where she was. They were quite the pair, both carrying guilt for circumstances beyond their control.

“Why are you laughing?” she demanded.

“I’m sorry,” he replied between chuckles. “I was just expecting you to say something far worse, that’s all.” He leaned in, kissing her deeply, savoring her delicious taste. One he hadn’t had enough of over the last week. “You did what you had to in order to survive, kitten. There’s no shame in that.” He arched his brows waiting for a response. All she would give him was an agreeable nod. He was so hard now his balls ached.

“Analise,” he murmured against her lips, “Christ, I need you so much.” This time he didn’t need to wait for a response as her lips crashed into his before he’d even finished his sentence. She wound her hands in his hair and ground her silk-covered heat against his hardness. He was so primed he was going to blow in about ten seconds if she kept that up.

She abruptly pulled back. “Take me to our new playroom.”

“Wha—? How did you know about that, kitten?”
Fucking Sebastian
.

She simply winked as she climbed off his lap, reached under her dress and removed her light pink panties with a ceremonious drop to the floor. Suddenly he couldn’t care less how she’d found out. If the wetness he’d seen on her panties was any indication, she was more than excited to try it out.

He grabbed her and impatiently flashed them there, not wanting to waste another second before worshipping her sinful body. He looked around the room, impressed with what he saw. The black comforter on the king sized four poster bed was a perfect complement to the deep purple walls and ceiling. The low light sconces on the wall added a dark, dungeon feel to the space. All of the implements he’d requested were perfectly placed, but the piece that drew his eye was the St. Andrew’s cross he’d had specially commissioned for her. It was perfect, just like Analise.

He took a black leather chair from the corner of the room and moved it to the center, their gazes burning into each other.

“Strip,” he thickly commanded. His cock was so hard it needed immediate relief. He undid his pants, pulling out his throbbing shaft while she watched. She swallowed hard when he began to slowly stroke it. His gums ached and his gut burned with the need to have her sweet blood flowing through him again. He’d been foolish to deny her over the last several days and now his body was paying him back tenfold, every part of him in pain.

Her eyes flicked back to his and she gifted him with a brilliant smile before she slowly unzipped her white strapless sundress. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she slowly let it drop to the floor, her strapless bra quickly joining the dress. His eyes raked over her perfect curves, stopping at her newly bare, hairless pussy.

“Sweet Jesus.” His grip tightened and if he didn’t stop soon, he would come all over his own stomach. And that was not where he was coming tonight.

“Stand in front of the cross, hands in the air.” She readily complied. She was sweet perfection. He wanted to ravage her in every way known to man. Once he had her safely secured, only then did he let himself touch her. He ran his hands and mouth all over her body. Cupping her ample breasts, he leaned down, taking a hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking but careful not to bite yet. He paid equal attention to her other one, relishing in the moans he pulled from her.

He dropped to his knees and ran a long finger through her wetness. She moaned, trying to buck, but he had her tightly bound so she had to remain still and take his ministrations.