Shattered Vows (Midnight Manor Book 2)

Chapter 12

Twelve

Ifollow Kol as he storms through the house, shoulders taut, strides long. I don’t dare say a word as we weave through the manor, past the antique furniture and oversized paintings. Each room feels dimmer, shadows lurking in the corners.

Eventually, Kol reaches a set of garden doors and pushes them open with both his hands, bolting outside and sucking in a deep breath as though the air inside the house was suffocating him. He doesn’t look to see if I’m still behind him.

I’m not sure if he even wants my company, but he’s obviously in pain for some reason, and I can’t walk away, leaving him in this state. Regardless of what he did, a huge part of my heart belongs to him, even if he’s not the man I thought he was when we first met. I can’t… I can’t just walk away. Last night proved that when I had the chance to escape but stayed instead.

Closing the doors behind me, I face him and find that we’re standing under a portico on a stone patio. Beyond that is a large swimming pool, but there’s no sun glistening off the water. The morning is overcast, and a thin layer of mist hangs low to the ground, making the temperature feel cooler than it should this close to summer.

Kol stands with his back to me, hands interlocked on his shaved head.

I’m not sure what to say or whether I should say anything at all. I opt for the most obvious question. “Are you okay?” My voice is soft, tentative.

He blows out a stream of air. “I’m fine.”

There’s a bite to his tone, but I decide to press on anyway. “What Anabelle said upset you for some reason. I don’t under?—”

“Just leave it alone, Rapsody.”

“If you can’t talk to me, you should talk to someone.” I want to be the one to bring him comfort, but if it can’t be me, all I care about is that he finds someone.

“I said, leave. It. Alone.” He whips around to face me and steps forward. His arms land on either side of my head, caging me against the doors.

He stares down at me, those caramel eyes that once looked at me with such softness and love now filled with turmoil. Both our chests heave for breath. A flash of panic ignites in his eyes. The thought that I’m responsible for his rage because I brought up his mother in the painting makes the cords in my throat tighten.

“I’m sorry if I upset you when I asked about the painting.”

Pure pain flashes on his face. “You didn’t know.”

“Still…” I reach toward his face on instinct but drop my hand before I connect with his skin. I don’t think he wants me to touch him, even though we’re only inches apart. The look on his face reminds me of an animal after he’s cornered his prey and is deciding whether to attack or not.

“Do you miss your mother?”

His question catches me off guard, and it takes me a beat to respond. “I…I mean, a bit. I miss the comfort of having her there, knowing she loves and cares for me, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying having some space from her.”

God, guilt lies heavy on my shoulders, saying that after all she’s done for me, but it’s true.

“I miss mine every fucking day.” His voice is a quiet rasp as though it pains him to speak of her out loud. “I was the one who found her.”

My entire body draws tight. I don’t know how old he was when his mother died, but I remember he said that he was young. “You must’ve been just a child.”

“Ten.” He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “I was ten when I found her in the garden with a set of gardening shears plunged into her chest, blood seeping out.”

A pained sound leaves my lips, and I bring my hands up to cover my mouth, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. He was so young. So young to have seen such a thing done to his mother. “Who… who did it?”

“A man she was having a long term affair with. He murdered her when she told him she wouldn’t leave my father for him. So he stabbed her and left her for dead like she was a piece of roadkill. Like she meant nothing. But she was everything to my brothers and me.”

“Kol…” There are no words to say. Sorry is too small a word for the trauma they must have all endured.

“I think about that all the time. What her last moments must have been like. How much pain she must have been in. Was it slow, and she knew she was dying? Or did she die instantly?”

My hands tentatively slide around his taut waist. I step into him, leaving no space between us, and press my cheek to his chest, squeezing him in a hug. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I’m prepared for him to push me away, but he doesn’t. Instead, his arms wrap around me and tuck me into him, his cheek lying on the top of my head. He shudders a breath and tucks his face in my neck, breathing me in.

All traces of the cold, calculating billionaire are erased, and in its place is a vulnerable son, a man who misses what could have been if his mother hadn’t been murdered.

“She’s at peace now, Kol. I truly believe that.” My attendance at church taught me that I do believe that when our souls leave our bodies, we move on to a better place.

He squeezes me harder, and I wish I’d never run off on him. I wish I had stayed and confronted him, and maybe we’d have had more of these moments. Maybe I’d know the real Kol Voss underneath the bridled exterior. If I would have talked to him, maybe we’d be more than whatever we are now—strangers, adversaries, certainly not friends.

But there’s no use going down that line of thought. Kol may be letting me stay here until I figure myself out, but his romantic interest vanished the day I decided to run. He’ll never give me another chance.

“I hope you’re right,” he says and pulls away from me, hands clenched at his sides.

He stares at me, gaze coasting over my features. That string pulls taut between us, as if neither of us has the energy or desire to pull apart.

His gaze drops to my lips, and they tingle, my belly fluttering low in my abdomen. Blissful memories of what his lips felt like on mine rise to the surface. The way I’d lose track of anything that wasn’t him. The way I’d crave more and more of him. The way I’d think dirty things I’d never thought of before.

My breathing picks up, and I meet his unwavering gaze as he slowly, so carefully brings his head closer to mine. I can almost taste him the closer he gets, and my lips ache in anticipation. His warm breath floats over my face, and my nipples pebble in my bra. Waiting, waiting for him to set his lips on mine.

Our mouths are millimeters apart, and a groan slides up my throat, begging him to put me out of my misery. His amber eyes disappear under his eyelids, and he steps away from me. A cold rush of air whips through me. I’m almost unable to bite back the sound of disappointment that’s desperate to be unleashed.

“I’m going to be gone for a week or so. I have some things to take care of for Voss Enterprises.” All the lust is stripped from his face. Kol is back to being the man who showed up in Seattle to collect me, as if we didn’t just share a moment.

“Oh. Okay.” Despair fills my veins that I’ll be here on my own without him.

“I don’t want you leaving the property while I’m gone.”

I wrap my arms around myself. “So I am a prisoner once again?”

“Yes. No.” He scrubs his hands down his face. “I know you want to live more during this time away from your mother. But I want to be the one to show you the world. I want you to save those moments for me.”

His words remind me so much of when we first met and all the things we talked about doing, the places he wanted to take me.

I nod. “Okay.”

“You sure?” he asks as though he thinks I’m going to try to slip off into the night again.

“I’m sure.”

“Your stuff is being moved to the room beside mine today. Is there anything I can have brought in for you?”

I ask for the only thing I’ve been missing from my old life. “Would it be possible to get some paint and canvases?” My breath stays trapped in my chest while I wait for him to answer.

“You still paint?” His head tilts.

“Yeah. Helps pass the time.”

Growing up, painting was one of my favorite ways to spend my time when I wasn’t doing homeschool classes. While my mom worked from her home office, I must’ve watched hundreds of videos online before I developed my own style of painting.

Now it’s more than just a way to pass the time. It helps center me, helps me make sense of my feelings, and gives me the ability to paint the worlds I create in my mind, since I don’t know very much of the one beyond my doorstep.

“I’ll make sure you have everything you need.”

“Thank you.”

There’s no hope that the two of us can ever come together again, but the way he looks at me, I curse my wretched heart for wishing we could.