Shards of Us (7 page)

By the time we stop,
Sebastian holds me in his arms. My breathing comes in slow pants, my skin as sweaty as his is, but I can't look away from him. I'm lost in the beautiful blue in his eyes, in the closeness of his body to mine, and all I want to do is push on the space between us until there is nothing there, nothing but his body. He holds me in his arms with surprising grace. My back is bent backwards, but he keeps me from falling by holding me in in his arms, leaning forward so that his mouth is only inches from mine. Sebastian's breath comes in slow gulps. I feel the tingling and heat crawling into my skin at the possibility of kissing him, and I concentrate on the silence of the room, the way both of our bodies feel so connected as we danced. I can still hear the music in my ears even though it's long gone now.

All of my instincts are screaming at me to pull away, to push him off of me and try to get out of her
e, to not feel anything but hatred for him, but the rest of me refuses. The rest of me wants this, this moment, this man. I can't put the feeling into words, but I find myself gravitating toward him despite myself, needing him in ways I can't possibly express.

I know it's wrong. I know none of this makes any sense. But something about this man
… something draws me in. Something makes me want to trust him, even though I shouldn't.

"I didn't know you could dance,
Sebastian," I whisper after a minute in between breaths, my eyes fixated on his, drowning in the sea of his blue eyes.

He smiles, one of those
sad, fleeting smiles of his. "You don't know a lot of things about me, angel."

And then he pulls me up so that I'm standing right next to him. Our mouths are inches away, hovering there. The music has stopped. The rain has stopped. Everything has stopped
but this moment. It's just us in the darkness of the room, and I can barely see anything but I have enough senses to tell that all I need is right here in front of me, right here for my taking.

"Kiss me," I whisper
despite my protesting instincts, and when he does, everything is fire. His lips are hot and passionate, urgent even, like kissing me is the air he needs to survive. I kiss him back, harder and harder, and he matches me, and I don't even know what I'm doing but I can't bring myself to stop, either. My arms go around his body and his slip down my back, moving lower and lower, faster and faster. Kissing Sebastian feels wrong in every possibly way, and yet, so, so right. I press myself closer to him, moaning as he trails his kiss down my neck and toward my breast. He teases me at first, moving his mouth around the arch of my breast, and I feel the tingling race through my body as he, finally, kisses me there. My head goes back, and his mouth moves lower and lower, ever so slowly, down my stomach. I feel the pressure building up inside of me, feel my stomach gets hotter and hotter the closer he gets to me. I need him, I need him so bad, and I moan at the thought of him going there, at the desire that pulses throughout my body. But when he reaches the space between my inner thighs, Sebastian stops. His lips don't move. I moan again, wanting him to finish it, closing my eyes and falling back and back. "Do it," I whisper desperately. "Touch me there."

But he doesn't. He pulls back and stands up, blue eyes
hard and passionate. "I can't," he growls. His breath is hot and thick, and I can see he wants to touch me there--touch me everywhere--but is holding himself back.

"Yes," I gasp, the need racing through me. "Yes, you can."

"No." He looks so conflicted as he shakes his head. "
No
. I don't deserve you, angel. I can't make you mine, because I don't deserve you. I've done bad things, really bad things, and I love you too much to let you fall for me."

My heart aches at his words. After everything,
Sebastian is… scared of me? Scared of loving me? Scared of being with me? My hands shake. No. No. I need him. I need to have him. And in that moment, as much as I wish it weren't, I know it's the absolute truth.

"But I want you," I say,
pressing myself up against him.

He looks
up at me, shaking his head. "You're beautiful, angel," he says at last. His voice has this sad little edge to it, as if he's reminiscing about an old friend. "Did you know that?"

"You've told me,
Sebastian," I breathe. I can still hear myself panting, but all of that seems to fade away now, because every part of me is focusing on Sebastian and how fucking much I want him. "You've always told me."

"I just wanted you to know," he says quietly. "I don't want you to forget
that. Not ever." His voice is so quiet and meaningful that I can't turn away from him, no matter how hard I try.

"I won't," I
promise, looking into those scorching blue eyes of his. "I won't ever."

"Good,"
he says in his same, rough voice. He looks like he wants to leave now, to be anywhere but near me. He pauses for a minute, not moving, our bodies intertwined for what feels like eternity. Finally, he sighs. "You know how I told you I locked you up here to save you… from the men?"

"Yes," I say slowly.
I'm still reeling from what just happened. My hands shake at the realization that I almost let the man who locked me up in here go inside of me, and I
wanted
it.

I fight back a tear, self-hatred rushing in. What is wrong with me? How am I so desperate that I'd want the man causing all of my pain this
badly? Oh shit oh shit. I can't want him. I can't feel anything but hatred toward him.

I bite my lip. Hard.

Sebastian's gaze is as intense as ever, trained on mine. "Well, it's true, those men do want to hurt you." He drops his voice to a hush, but it sounds so sincere that it catches me off guard. "But I also locked you up here so you could be protected from me," he whispers. "So we could be separated, and I could save you. From myself."

I stop
. Stop moving. Stop wanting him. This is not what I expected I hear. "Why do I need to be saved from you?" I whisper. My hand starts shaking. "Who are you, Sebastian?"

He pushes me away, ever so gently.
"I'm no one. I'm the man you can never want." Sebastian turns away at that and heads to the door, shaking his head back and forth and back and forth. "You don't want me, angel," he repeats quietly. "Trust me on that."

Then he
reaches the door, swings it open, and steps through, slamming it behind him. But I swear to god I hear him add something on his way out, so quietly I think I might be dreaming: "Nobody wants me."
 

Chapter Eight

The next few days go by slowly. Sebastian leaves to look for the men who are after us several times, which I'm beginning to realize may not be a lie after all, and I spend my time while he's away desperately searching for an escape. I haven't seen real sunlight in almost two weeks now, and I can feel myself slowly losing it. My head hurts all the time and my muscles feel so weak. It's like the darkness has sucked all of the life out of me.

One thing is for sure:
I need out.

I. need. out.

Sometimes, when I get desperate, I just run at the door and try to hit it, pounding on it and screaming and screaming and pleading for someone to help me, someone to let me out, someone to free me, but no one comes. I desperately slam on the marble door with my fists, with my arm, with my foot, and still, there is no one to rescue me. I'm trapped here--trapped for good.

Other times, when I don't know what else to do, I just crumple up and cry. I let my legs go weak and close my eyes, and let the tears pour out of me. Crying is healthy, at least. Crying makes me feel like I'm still okay.

Other times, I can't even cry. I just sit there and stare at the empty wall and wait for the tears to fall, but they refuse to come. It's like they've been drained out of me. Like Sebastian took away not only my heart and my well-being, but my tears as well. He took everything from me, to protect me, to save me, or whatever it is he is doing to me, and I hate him for it. But I also want him so badly, so badly I can't even explain it.

Still,
I haven't felt this desperate, this dark inside, since the days after my parents were killed. It feels like everything is crashing down again, like my whole life has been a downhill spiral and now that I've hit rock bottom, there's no climbing back up.

There is no escaping this safe house
, I've realized, defeated. I'm trapped in here, possibly forever.

But on Wednesday night, marking two weeks since I first arrived here, that all changes. Or at least, it changes a little.

I'm sitting on my bed, thinking about what it would be like to dance in front of my parents again, to perform and let everything else melt away, when Sebastian comes over to me and says, "I want to show you something, my angel."

I sit up and turn around.

He'd just come out of the shower, and right now he's wearing nothing but a towel. He runs a hand through his wet dark hair, those blue eyes transfixed on me. Steam pours off of him as he closes the bathroom door behind him, and he looks so incredible that it makes my skin tingle.

"Nice shirt," I
say to him, unable to stop staring at his perfectly chiseled abs. They're long and lean, and his biceps ripple with muscle, the kind of muscle you don't get from working out at the gym, but from pure, real-world fighting.

He gives me a crooked little smile. "I thoug
ht you might like that."

I watch him as he
moves over to me, slipping on a shirt and then, unfortunately, pants. I love the way his body looks and moves, love how his muscles tense when he's nervous, love how looking at him makes my skin feel hot and tense and causes traces of a blush to creep across my cheeks. I am infatuated with his body, with every visible inch of him, and as much as I wish I weren't, as much as I want to hate him, I just can't.

"Where are you taking me?" I ask
once he walks back over to me, the fear starting to creep in. I don't trust Sebastian. Not at all. I still think he is going to do something bad to me. But I can't deny the connection I feel for him, the irresistible draw he gives me.

He grabs my hand and leads me toward the door. "Just somewhere," he says, more to himself than me.

He stops once he reaches the door. My stomach tenses up as he puts his key into the lock, then swings it open as soon as it clicks. Sunlight pours into the dark room, and even though it's cloudy outside, it feels blinding.

I haven't seen sun in weeks.

I hesitate as soon as he motions for me to step through. "You… you're letting me go?" I say. My voice trembles, but I can't help myself. I know I should be rushing out, pushing past him and trying to get the hell out of here, but I'm too stunned to move. "After everything? You're letting me go? Just like that?"

Sebastian
shakes his head. He has a perplexed look in his eyes, and his dimples grow like he's about to smile. "I'm not letting you go," he says, raising his voice, his eyes burning into mine. "I'm taking you somewhere, you'll see where. I trust you, angel, but I won't let you escape until I'm sure you're safe. You're still my prisoner, and don't ever forget that. I own you. I'm not your knight in shining armor. I'm trying to save you, from myself and from those men, but I'm not going to sweep you off your feet. I'm just going to protect you, and that means locking you up." His voice sounds is rough and urgent but oddly sincere, and I stare back at him, frozen, trying to read him. I can't tell if he really is just trying to save me, or if it's all part of some elaborate lie to gain my trust. It shouldn’t matter either way, because who the fuck locks up someone to save them? But it does matter. I hate that it does, but it does.

"Okay," I say slowly,
watching him closely. I take a deep breath as I step outside and into his arms for the first time in weeks.

The sun is so blinding that I have to squeeze my eyes shut
almost immediately. I can't see where I'm going, but Sebastian steers me forward, his hand placed gently on my back. His chin hovers right above my shoulder, and I can hear his steady breaths, can smell his masculine scent of mint and sweat. He feels good, holding me like this, as he steers me up a hill of some sort. He feels really, really good. And I realize I should be thinking about how to escape or something, or how much I hate him for locking me up, but I just… I can't.

It occurs to me then how easy it could be to run away right now. I could just push him aside and make a break for it, and he may or may not be able to catch up to me. I could do so many things to get away, and one week ago, I would've tried all of them. But there is something so sincere and innocent in the way
Sebastian speaks to me, looks at me, something that tells me he really, truly does care about me. He does love me. He does want me. He's just a man in love above all else, a man who is broken and doesn't want to lose me.

And I guess, in a way, I don't want to lose him too.

I let Sebastian guide me all the way up the hill, past the sounds of wind whistling through the trees and the steady chirping of birds above me, until he finally stops before a house of some sort. I try to open my eyes, but I can't make out much. I see Sebastian walk up to it, open the door or something, and then he motions me inside. "C'mon. I have something important to show you."

My instincts tell me to turn and run away right now. Every part of me screams it, in fact. And I feel myself start to. I feel my legs go weak from the trembles, and I feel myself edge back, ready to sprint as far away
from here as possible, but my legs are frozen in place, refusing to leave. I just stand there for a while, with Sebastian watching me with narrowed eyes, as if testing whether I trust him.

"Okay," I
finally say, hating myself immediately for being so stupid. I stumble toward the door after him, and he catches me when I trip over a root and almost fall into the stairs.

"Careful there, angel," he whispers into my ear, pulling me up
with his thick arms and smiling. "Wouldn't want you to get hurt, after all this."

I don't answer.

Sebastian leads me inside. The house is dark, and I'm relieved that I can open my eyes without squinting again. It's an old house, like something out of a horror movie, filled with broken windows and upturned furniture and a creaking door and moth-eaten carpets. The air inside here is thick and musty, and I have to bite back a gag as soon as I breathe it in.

Taking my hand,
Sebastian leads me up the rickety stairs, down the old, crumbling hallway, and into a room at the end of the top floor. It's old and painted a peeling blue color, with dusty posters hanging over the wall and a desk full of pictures of a smiling boy and an older woman standing over him. The bed is empty and unmade, seemingly untouched for years, and the ceiling is filled with poorly-drawn stars, like sketches from a little kid.

"Welcome to paradise
," Sebastian says without a trace of humor, gesturing to the room around him.

I frown at him for a minute, looking around. The room is too small to hold more than one person, and too old have been used in the last five years. Then my eyes drift to
another picture of the little boy, this time of him holding a small saxophone, and when I look back at Sebastian, it hits me.

"This is your room," I say quietly, unable to believe he's really revealing this much of himself to me.
If he were really trying to harm me, why would he show me his old room? Why is he… why is he opening up to me like this?

"Guilty as charged."
Sebastian gives me a sad smile, and for a second, it's like he regrets bringing me here. But it's gone as quickly as it comes, before I even have time to frown. "Here." Sebastian motions me forward with his hand. "I have something to show you."

He reaches into the little dresser beside the bed, searches a
round a bit, and finally pulls out a picture of the same boy, this time playing his saxophone for the woman in the other photo. He takes a seat down on the bed, then pats the space beside him. "Sit," he says. I obey.

Sebastian
sighs as soon as I sit beside him, like he already regrets what he's about to tell me. He hands me the picture. It's dusty and cool at the touch. As I look closer, I see that the boy is smiling. He looks happy, genuinely happy, so different than the Sebastian I know now.

"I was twelve in that picture," he says. He isn't looking at me. His eyes are focused on the window, that distant little look in them. "I was happy then. With Jodie, the woman who took me in
after… what happened to my family. She was happy too. She loved me, made me her kid, because her husband left her when she couldn't produce one of her own. She taught me so much, about life and love… so much I ignored." He sighs. "I was a music prodigy then. I've always had a thing for music, playing or dancing. I didn't go to school, so I spent my time with music. And… well, I got into fights sometimes too. I was always an angry kid after what had happened to me. Music made me happy, but everything else seemed to infuriate. I fought a lot. Hated a lot. I learned a lot about toughening up and hurting people who deserve to be hurt in the times that I got in fights like that. I learned as many good lessons as I learned bad lessons, and when I was eighteen, I got a… job offer. I told Jodie it was a job as a music teacher but it was across the country, which means I'd have to leave, and she seemed disappointed but told me to follow my dreams anyway. And I did. I left her the next week because I knew I was bad for her, just like I'm bad for you. I lied to her, though. It wasn't a music teaching job I got offer. I didn't have any other way to get a job, not with my lack of education background and my broken past, so I took the one I could find… plus, I was stupid back then. I thought the job would make me happy. I was so angry, so hateful… I just needed a way to get it all out. I knew I couldn't live with myself if Jodie knew the truth, so I left her like I left my family." He drops his voice to a whisper then, and the hurt in his voice is so strong it catches me off guard. "I leave everyone. I don't get happiness. I only get abandonment."

I shift closer to
Sebastian, curiosity peaked. "What was the job?" I ask quietly, touching my hand to his arm, loving the feel of his hard muscle.

"You don't want to know, angel.
" He turns to me, and his eyes are wild, filled with fury and grief and, I think, a pang of regret. "There's no way you could love me if you knew."

"That's not true."

"Is it, angel?" He looks angry now, hurt, even. "I'm not a good person. Hell, I lost my fucking mind a long time ago. But I guess that's part of the job. I guess that's what…
they
… wanted, though. You just don't understand what it's like. You don't understand what it means to spend your whole life full of anger and hate, doing a job that gives you nightmares all night and all the time just so you can pay for yourself and your aging adoptive mother who is too stubborn to ask for money even when you both know she needs it."

I move closer to him, staring back into his eyes. I really should hate him. But I find myself lost in our closeness, wanting to heal this broken soul beside me more than I can explain.
"I understand, Sebastian. I understand more than most. That's the point, remember? We're both broken in different ways, but shattered enough that only we have the ability to help each other." I add, "You can trust me."

He's shaking his head like he already regrets what he's going to say.
"Just know that I didn't have a choice, when I joined them. I needed a job, and without an education background no one would take me. I needed the money. I needed to care for myself and Jodie, to send her those monthly checks, so this was the only option. When the man, Marco, offered me the job, I didn’t know what else to do but say yes. I knew he was a drug dealer, but--"