Forbidden Innocence: Tales of the Forbidden (16 page)

Nicolai Simoncic sat in the large leather seat in front of the Dean, who sat behind his desk. Hands folded together, he waited quietly, as did the Dean, for the ride which was due to come for him any moment. His grandfather called him, told him that today was the day he would be leaving for his new home.

For the past fourteen years, his grandfather told him the story of his birth, his mother, and about the man that should’ve been his father. And for those fourteen years, Nicolai listened and hungered to meet the man his mother loved with all her heart; according to his grandfather.

Nicolai also knew about the circumstance of his birth. He knew the name of his real father, and knew the story that went with it and the lie his mother tried to attach as well. He wasn’t stupid. He knew he was a mistake, but his grandfather told him long ago that sometimes a mistake can turn into the greatest gift ever. Nicolai was his gift and nothing would ever change that.

Nothing but time.

His grandfather was dying. Lung cancer. It tore Nicolai up inside.

Unable to sit any more, he stood up and went over to the window, the Dean saying nothing to him. He kept telling himself that he knew this day would come, yet the change and move scared him to death.

The phone on the desk buzzed and Nicolai jumped. “Sir, he’s here.”

Nicolai didn’t turn. He heard the Dean get up from his desk, heard him move to the door and open it. Muffled words exchanged followed by the door closing. He knew someone was with him, but couldn’t seem to turn to see who.

* * * *

Blaine changed his mind halfway back to the house about going and 133

getting the boy. He had Dane dropped off to help Devon and instructed Henning to take him to the boarding school. Now he stood in the Dean’s office, looking at Joann’s son for the first time in fourteen years.

Nicolai Simoncic had a lot of resemblance to his father, Owen, but Blaine could see a lot of Joann also. One thing for sure, with Joann being a blonde, and Owen dark head, Nicolai had dark brown hair. His build was all Owen. Just being only fourteen, Blaine could tell that the boy would be tall and have a large build.

Being in a boarding school, Nicolai not only had to keep well dressed, but his hair had to stay above the collar. Shoes were shiny, pants pressed, jacket starched, he appeared to be the gentleman that he knew Robert raised him to bed.

Now what to say to him?

“Nicolai, I’m Blaine Cedric.”

“I know who you are.” He turned to them and Blaine got the shock of his life. The boy had his mother’s large blue eyes. “My grandfather told me all about you.”

“You have her eyes,” Blaine whispered, shocked to his toes and unable to move.

Nicolai smiled. “So my grandfather has told me.”

Blaine stayed rooted to the spot and Nicolai came up to him. He extended his hand and Blaine took it. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Same here,” Blaine said.

“So am I to now be moving in with you?”

“Guess so.”

Nicolai nodded and backed up a couple steps, arms crossing over his young chest. “Is he looking for me?”

“Robert said you knew the story.” Blaine looked hard at the boy.

“He figured out that the story I laid out was a lie. So yes, he’s looking for you. In fact, he has my wife. Wants to do a trade, you for her.”

“And you’re considering this.”

“Hell no!” Blaine barked. “I’m sorry,” he rushed out. Taking a deep breath, Blaine got control over his anger. “Owen won’t get his hands on you. I’m here to make sure that a very good friend of mine comes and takes care of you. You’re going to go with him.”

“You mean hide?

“That’s just what I mean.”

“He’s that dangerous?”

“Oh yeah.”

It took him less than ten minutes to have Nicolai in the back of the 134

car with Darius. Blaine stood at the steps, watching the car leave, making sure the boy left the school safely. He trusted Darius, knew he’d make sure the boy stayed safe.

He held a small piece of paper with the address to where Owen was staying. Blaine didn’t look at it, his eyes were still fixed on the fading brake lights to the car. Mind still on Joann’s son.
Joann, I’m sorry.

Only when he couldn’t make out the car did he look down at his hand and read the address. Fisting the paper once more, Blaine turned and went back to his own car. For the trip out there, he drove himself, leaving Henning home. Alone, Blaine got into this car and pulled away from the school to have his face off with Owen.

He drove fast, going through traffic lights, stops signs and passing anyone that might be out this late. His whole focus was on the road ahead that he didn’t see the truck bearing down on him, not until the headlight blinded him from the side and the crash came.

The crash happened fast. Glass and metal hit him in the face, the leg, and his side. His car took a skidding ride to the side of the road then flipped up in the air, turning a few times before coming down hard. The slam down knocked out what little air he had in his lungs.

He could hear people moving around him but couldn’t see. Blood covered his face and he couldn’t open his eyes.

“I got him,” someone said.

He heard the side door being forced opened. Crunching of metal, bending and forcing. Rough hands jerked him from his seat, pulled him from the car and dragged him away.

“Hurry up before the damn cops show.”

“You carry him then. This fucker is heavy.”

Blaine opened his eyes just enough to see a trunk open and someone tossed him inside, closed it and the car pulled away. Wherever they were taking him, the ride sucked. Not just because he was in a trunk but because his damn body felt like hell. He had no clue what might be broke but he knew something had to be.

He must’ve passed out. Blaine jerked back away when the truck opened and brutal hands grabbed hold of him. Someone yanked him out of the truck, dragged him into a house, up some stairs and into a room, finally shoving him onto a sofa face first.

“Blaine, Blaine, Blaine. I thought we had a deal.”

“Owen, you fuck!” Blaine yelled, ignoring the pain in his body so he could sit up and face the man he hated with a passion.

“You were supposed to bring my son to me, not give him to your 135

little piss ant friend,” Owen went on.

“Where is she?” Blaine asked, wiping the blood from his face so he could see Owen. “Where is my wife!”

“In her room of course, waiting to see what you were going to do,”

Owen smirked.

They were in a seating room, one that didn’t have much furniture.

There was the sofa upon which he sat, wooden chairs and a desk. It all looked to him like a house where the things had been sold off. That had Blaine quickly thinking about something he had heard a long time ago.

Owen got cut off by his father. Another girl ended up pregnant, got an abortion because Owen not only refused to marry her and accept the responsibility for the child, but he didn’t claim it was his. After the abortion her family went to his, informing his father that this wasn’t the first time Owen used a girl from a good family. His father disowned him then, leaving him only what his mother had and the rest to any grandchild Owen might be unlikely to have.

Which made all the sense now to Blaine.

Owen needed Nicolai in order to get a hold of the family money.

Without the boy, Owen would be broke, or, from the looks of things, not as rich as he used to be.

“You sold your shit to ruin me, didn’t you?” Blaine stated. “And it didn’t work, but you’re still broke. The deals you took fell through, didn’t they? And now you need the boy to get your hands on your father’s money.” He shook his head. “Guess you should’ve asked yourself why I didn’t jump on them when I had the chance huh?”

“Smart. I always knew you were smart.”

“He left it all to Joann’s son, didn’t he?” Blaine laughed. “He found out about the boy before you did and left him everything!”

Now Owen didn’t look so smug. He brought out his cell phone from the inside of his shirt pocket, handing it to Blaine. “Call your friend and have my son brought to me.”

Blaine also sobered up. “No.”

Owen narrowed his eyes and snapped his finger. One of the guys that brought him in was still there. He went to the door, opened it and jerked Shyla inside.

“Blaine!” she cried out, twisting out of the brute’s hold, rushing to Blaine, only Owen stopped her.

Blaine’s gut dropped when Owen brought a gun out. “I’m tired of playing this game with you, Blaine. Because of your friends, I’ve lost my businesses.”

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“You mean the kidnapping and whoring of young girls,” Blaine spit blood out of his mouth onto the floor. “You’re sick if you think that was a business. You’re nothing more than a slaver, and it was a pleasure to put you out of business.” Slowly, he stood up, swaying on his feet. Pain in his body intensified but he ignored it. “You’re father caught on finally about you, just like everyone else in this town will. Joanna was right to keep him away from you. She knew, even as she lay there dying, what kind of monster you were.”

Owen put his arm around Shula’s throat and held the gun to the side of her face. She paled, blue eyes getting huge in her fear. “Joann never knew, but you will. Make the call, or I’ll take her away from you, just like you took Joann from me.”

“I never took Joann, you did!” He pointed a finger at her and yelled,

“You killed her the night you forced her.”

Shyla did the unexpected. She bit Owen’s arm so hard he yelled and let go of her. Blaine used that distraction. He lunged at Owen, shoving him up against the wall, fighting to get a hold on the gun. It went off, Shyla screamed, and Blaine got distracted by taking a quick look to see if she got shot. That distraction cost him.

Owen hit him in the side, the same spot where the car hit him. The blow knocked the wind out of Blaine, giving Owen the upper hand.

“Blaine!” Shyla screamed right before Owen landed another blow to his side.

A kick followed that hit and Blaine went down. He heard the gun cock and looked up as Owen took aim.

“No!” Shyla screamed again.

Blaine saw her move towards Owen. It felt like everything stood still and moved in slow motion at the same time. She lunged at Owen and he backhanded her hard, knocking her down. Blaine used that distraction to also rush Owen. Once more they struggled for the gun and this time it went off.

The two of them stood still, staring at each other, shock on Owen’s face. But it was Blaine who dropped down to his knees, both hands going to his stomach, blood filling his hands. Just as he fell back and Owen came over him, gun pointed at his head, the door busted open.

“Freeze! Police!""

Owen turned—not only his head but the gun on the many police that were charging into the room. That turn of his arm sealed his fate. At least five, if not more, shots went off, each landing in the chest of Owen Paterio. He went down hard, feet away from Blaine.

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“Blaine, oh god!” Shyla cried out, coming over him, her hand going to his, the other over his forehead. “Someone help, please!”

“Shyla,” he breathed out.

“Don’t you leave me now,” she sobbed. “Please, no. Someone help!”

“Lo—lo,” he couldn’t get the words out.

“Blaine, Blaine, stay with me. Do you hear me!” she yelled in his face, her tears hitting his cheek and nose. “Blaine, stay with me, please. I love you. Don’t leave me alone,
please
!”

The world faded, darkness closed around him. He could hear Shyla, see his body, felt nothing. He watched the people in the room, some going over to Owen, more coming to him. Two paramedics showed up, rushed up to him and pulled Shyla away. She screamed.

“We need to get him to a hospital,” one of the paramedic said.

“We’re going to lose him.”

“No!” Shyla screamed again.

“Get the gurney in here! We need to move him stat!”

Blaine looked up from his body and there standing in the corner was Joann. She looked like an angel. Her blonde hair flowed around her, the white dress also flowed and her sweet face was so innocent it tore at him to even have to look at her.

“I lost the pulse.”

“Blaine!” Shyla sounded so desperate, so lost, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Joann.

“It’s not your time, Blaine.”
He heard her speak, but didn’t see her mouth move.
“Go back to her. She’s your love, not me.”

“Stopped breathing, CPR.”

Once more he looked down at his body, then back up to the corner and Joann was gone. In a rush he was back in his body, felt the pain.

“He’s breathing.”

“I’ve got a pulse.”

“We need to move him, now.”

* * * *

She was so numb, she didn’t even remember how or who brought her to the hospital. She sat in a chair, a blanket over her shoulders and a hot cup of coffee untouched in her hands. In the waiting room with her were Devon, Kera, Dane, Samara, and Darius with a boy named Nicolai, and the small staff Blaine hired. Dane’s grandmother was also coming and with her, Makayla. News spread fast in town about Blaine getting shot and Owen 138

Paterio being the one who shot him. It also got out fast about Owen’s trafficking of women and the kidnapping of Shyla.

Shyla only heard maybe half of the things Owen had done to this town, and to some of the young girls. She couldn’t listen to it, didn’t want to know.

“Mrs. Cedric?”

Shyla snapped out of her daze and stood up. The doctor came in, looking tired and worn. How long had they all been there, waiting for news on Blaine?

“Your husband is stable, but in critical condition. He’s lost a lot of blood, but I do think in a couple of days he should stabilize and be just fine.” Shyla let out a sigh and he smiled at her. “The bullet did some damage. Maybe a few minutes longer and you would have lost him. This was close, very close.”

“Can I see him?” she whispered, fearing what he might say.

“Sure, but only for a few minutes.”

Shyla followed him back into the surgery area. On a bed lay Blaine, with many machines hooked up to him. She covered her mouth to stop herself from crying out. Her hands shook as she reached out for his, and the second her fingers touched his, he closed his hand around it. She looked at his face, Blaine opened his eyes, turning his head, meeting her eyes.

“I love you, Blaine Cedric,” she told him softly. “You’re my fairy tale come true.”

His eyes lit up and the corner of his lips tugged in a grin. A very faint „ditto" left his lips right before his eyes closed again.

Shyla leaned in, kissing him on the forehead and released a much needed sigh of relief. Blaine was going to be alright. She didn’t lose him, she still had him.

He stayed in the hospital for one week, and would’ve a bit longer if he didn’t act like such a grump. With everyone’s help, Blaine went home and a big dinner for them all was being planned by Sally.

At home, Shyla found him alone, leaning against the wall, staring out the window with a drink in hand and an unlit cigar in his mouth.

“I thought I had Randal get rid of those things,” she said, coming into the room, closing the door behind her.

“You did, I just got more.”

Right off she felt it. Distance between them. It had been showing its ugly head after he woke up fully and instead of the distance getting smaller it only grew having her feel like a guest in the house, not a home.

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Normally she wasn’t the kind of person to poke. In all her years at the Compound she did what was told or expected, but now things felt like they changed and she couldn’t hold back what was on her mind any longer.

“Blaine what’s wrong?”

“Wrong?”

“Yeah, since you’ve come home you’ve been distant. You don’t even touch me or kiss me, nothing. I feel like you’re pushing me away.”

He took a deep breath, finished what was left in his glass, and turned his head towards her. “Have I?”

“You know damn well you have,” she huffed.

He smiled. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you swear.”

“And that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile in weeks.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Is it because of what I said?” He frowned at her and she shrugged. “I’m sorry if you feel uncomfortable with it. But I’m not going to take it back. I love you. I don’t know when it happened, it just happened.”

“What’s going on with me has nothing to do with what you said to me,” he sighed.

“Then what’d I do?” Her chin quivered, the tears threatened to come but she refused to give in to the weakness of crying.

“You didn’t do a thing.” He pushed away from the window, went to the bed and sat down.

Shyla couldn’t stop herself from rushing up to him, going down to her knees between his legs, holding him. “Then talk to me, please. I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I,” he sighed, rubbing his face. “Shyla something happened to me when I got shot, something I can’t explain.”

“Try.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes going around the room. “I think I died, Shyla, after Owen shot me. I think I died and saw Joann.” She stiffened, couldn’t help herself. “And she made me come back. Come back to you.”

His eyes landed on her and she shivered with the amount of emotions she saw in them. His hand reached out, knuckles grazing her cheek. “I love you, Shyla. Only you.”

Shyla smiled, tears falling down her face. “I love you.” She bit her lip, looked at the door and got up, rushing over to it, locking it. Feeling like a little girl she went back to him and down in the same spot. “I want to do something. Something I’ve heard Kera and Samara talk about.”

140

“Honey, I don’t think we have the time for that if they all are coming over here in about an hour.”

“Oh, I’m not talking about that.” She reached up, yanked on his belt and had the zipper down, cock free in seconds. “I’m talking about something very different.”

He hardened in her hands. “Well, maybe we should—” She didn’t let him finish. She opened her mouth, took the head in and sucked down as much of his shaft as she could. “Holy shit!”

She heard the girls talking about doing this and how and Shyla took mental notes. She sucked him hard, pulled at the flesh, teased the underside with her tongue and moved in a lazy slow motion.

He tasted good, very good. A wildness she couldn’t put to words, didn’t want to.

Up and down, harder she pulled, more she took, and Blaine panted, moaned, fisted his hands into her hair, bucking under her.

“Shyla, I’m not going to last very long, I swear it,” he groaned.

She moaned her pleasure and he swore again. Faster she began to move, flicking her tongue quickly. Another thing she had heard them say was that when doing this massage of the sac between his legs, and when you feel him tense, put a finger into him. It would drive him nuts and heighten his pleasure.

So Shyla did that. She reached into his pants, cupped his balls and massaged them while she sucked on his cock.

“Fuck me!” Blaine moaned. “Shyla, I’m going to come.”

She moved a finger back, found the spot and pushed her finger as far into him as she could. Blaine yelled, pulled at her hair and came. She drank him, took each and every drop he had to give and pulled more until the swelling went down.

When she released him he flopped back on the bed, breathing hard.

“Where the hell did you learn that?”

Licking her lips she crawled up over him and smiled. “I heard Kera and Samara talk about it. So I wanted to try it, and I do have to say I like.”

“Baby, so do I.”

Darius didn’t show for the meal. Dane, Devon, their wives, Berdina and Makayla all showed. It was fun, light and relaxing, the meal heavenly. Around midnight everyone left and Shyla pushed Blaine up the stairs for bed. She saw he was very tired, but wouldn’t say so.

In bed, snuggling up against him she knew without a doubt he was still away.

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“What are you thinking about?” she finally asked.

“Darius,” he sighed.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“His desire is going to bust up his friendship with Dane.”

Shyla raised up, looking down at Blaine. “He wants Makayla, doesn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll get her? I mean, she isn’t in the Compound and Berdina seems to have the power to keep her out.”

“He might,” he sighed. “Darius also has power in this town. If he wants her bad enough, he’ll have her.”