Chapter 26 Everett
EVERETT
“Where’s my wife?”
That was the first question I barked at Cormac when he called me around noon.
As soon as his name flashed on my phone, I knew.
My cases, my job, the lunch I had delivered to my office. None of that mattered.
Aurora was gone.
“She ran off. I can’t find her.”
Straight to the point.
My wife disappeared, and since then, I’ve been looking for her.
First, my driver took me to the hospital, hoping for clues. Cormac had watched the security tapes tracing her last steps, but I needed to see them for myself.
There was nothing on them that could tell me where she’d gone.
Without a credit card or money, it made sense that she couldn’t have gotten far.
I dismissed my driver and took the car, roaming the streets by myself. I needed to be the person to track her down. To protect her.
Me.
Around and around I went. Pulled up to every storefront in the area. Entered each one looking for her.
She couldn’t have gone to her parents. The things she told me about them, there was no chance she’d turn to them.
So I looked for her anywhere else for two hours straight.
Looking for another missing girl I cared about dragged me down the worst kind of memory lane. Yet there I was. Scouring for her.
During this time, my nerves were frayed. The worst-case scenarios ran through my head.
I cursed myself for being too vain to install a tracker in her collar.
Aurora was resourceful. Of course Cormac couldn’t stop her from running away. No one could.
I have no idea where she went. But I’m done driving aimlessly. I’m going to wait for her at home.
This sheltered, na?ve woman. My woman. Out there, on her way to freedom. Except without money, without a place to stay, she has to be lost. Hungry.
She—
She’ll be back here.
She’ll have to face my wrath.
After I hug her. After I search every inch of her body for injuries.
Where could she have gone?
Old fears and frustration threaten to suffocate me. I’m livid. Powerless.
Furious.
Aurora could be injured. A man could’ve jumped her. Raped her. Left her for dead.
I park the car violently in the driveway instead of in my garage and storm in through the front door of my home.
The nearest vase is in my hand. Before I know it, it’s shattered against the wall.
My staff wisely clears the entryway. I stare at them as they disappear into the house.
What was I thinking, coming here to wait for her?
I’m heading back out to find her.
Right now.
Car fob in my hand, I’m almost out the door, crossing the foyer.
Then the handle of the front door rattles. A fist slams on the thick wood.
I stand there like a fool, my heart in my throat.
The doorbell rings.
One of my staff members appears in my peripheral vision. I snap out of it, flick my wrist, ordering him to leave.
This has to be Aurora.
It’s my face she’ll see first. My arms will fold over her.
The moment I fling the door open, I’m able to breathe again.
That is, until my eyes lock on her bruised, swollen cheek.
I’m going to die of a broken heart. Of a wrath so powerful it bursts out of me in flames.
“Aurora.”
She’s hurt.
Another person made her cry.
Another person touched what’s mine.
Her chin dips. Hands wringing. “I’m sorry.”
Not here. Not fucking here, in the entryway when she’s this exposed. This broken.
I scoop her in my arms, slam the door shut, and storm up to our bedroom.
“I said I was sorry.”
Another glance at her, and I know there’ll be hell to pay. She won’t be the one punished for this. Whoever did this to her, they’ll be sorry. So fucking sorry.
“Don’t punish me,” she whispers.
“Stop apologizing.”
We’re alone in my room, isolated from the outside world. My chest constricts, still raw from before.
Worrying over someone you love is the worst kind of pain.
“I’m sorry.” Tears roll down her cheeks.
She looks tiny. Fragile. Precious.
“I said I don’t want your apologies.” I sit both of us down on the edge of the bed.
She’s on my lap, silently crying. Her weight is warm and grounding, her body still except for the subtle hitch of each breath.
I wrap my arms tighter around her, as if that alone could stop her from breaking apart.
I can’t stand it. I’m choked by it. By her swollen fucking cheek.
Before I burn the world down, I have to take care of her. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear is a start. I’m doing everything, and I mean everything, to control my temper.
Big, round eyes gaze up at me. “What do you want?”
“A name.” My throat tightens, remembering what a failure I am. I cup her swollen cheek, absorbing her pain. Trying to take it from her. “Who did this to you?”
Her chin wobbles. “Since when do you care?”
I slide my hand down to the side of her neck, groaning at the thrumming of her blood, her life source, beneath my palm.
She’s wounded.
She’s here.
Alive.
And at last, I don’t resent her for it.
My family didn’t have to die so that Aurora would live.
I was wrong to think the two things were mutually exclusive.
They aren’t.
Aurora is a true innocent.
She’s my present. My future. My everything.
She isn’t a compromise either. Not someone to fill the emptiness in my heart.
Revenge or not, I would’ve ended up marrying her. Would’ve put babies in her stomach.
I would’ve given her the world, just because she’s Aurora.
That doesn’t make me love my family any less. It simply means I have space to love all of them.
“You’re my wife. Isn’t that enough?”
The look in her eyes is wary. Of course it is. She’s used to hearing me use that title like a weapon.
No more of that.
No more space between us.
No more guilt keeping me from touching her.
I’ve spent the past week pulling back, convinced that loving her made me weak. That wanting her would dull the edge of my revenge. Most of all, I didn’t deserve her.
I’ve been wrong about it just like I’ve been wrong about everything.
I’m going to fix it like I should’ve a long time ago.
Years ago, apparently.
“Okay, you want to hear it? All of it? I care about you. As Aurora, not just my wife, okay? Good enough for you?” I lean in, pressing my forehead to hers.
Chest too hot. Too tight. “I fucking care. Deeply, Aurora. I shouldn’t.
I tried not to. But I care. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone in years. ”
“You do?” she whispers, doubt thick in her voice.
“Yes.” I inhale her. This moment.
Her grip on the lapels of my jacket is sure. Small, determined fingers that won’t let go.
Aurora feels safest with her monster. Me. “You care? About me?”
I don’t do love declarations.
Facts are easier. Cleaner. Safer.
“I missed you.” I search her gaze. She needs more from me, so I give it to her. “I was wrong.”
Her mouth rounds in the shape of an O.
“Yes, I missed you.” That’s one way to put it.
Denying myself Aurora has been a nightmare.
I’ve been lost without her.
The way she talks back, it hurts how much I’ve longed for that.
Days and hours have gone by, and I ached for her weight in my arms. Her lips on mine. I jerked off to the memories of her tight cunt and hot mouth around my cock, and it did nothing for me.
My hands belong here, tangled in her soft locks.
“I was wrong to keep you at arm’s length.
” The feel of her palm on my jaw is warmth I don’t deserve.
“You see, I couldn’t stand hurting you. But I couldn’t give you what you needed.
Affection. Compassion. Kindness. I’ve been this one person for years.
I had one goal, and it blinded me. I hurt you.
I’m not a good man, Aurora. After what happened, when I finally pieced the broken parts of me back together, I wasn’t the same person I used to be… before.”
That’s as much as I can tell her right now. I love her, and fuck, I can’t say that either.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever be him again. But you’ve made me feel again.” Looking at her sad, hopeful eyes, I go on, “And that scares the hell out of me. I’m bad for you, and still, I can’t stop wanting you. Caring about you. I can’t.”
With that off my chest, I return to focus on what’s truly important.
Purple paints the bruise on her swollen cheek. I’m this close to punching a hole through the nearest wall.
“Who was it?”
“Everett.”
“I’m never letting go. Ever.”
“Everett.”
She won’t tell me who it is before she speaks her mind. I see it in her eyes.
“What is it?” I move both hands to her neck. Her pulse. Her breaths. I’m going to feel all of it. “Tell me.”
Her chest expands slowly. Whatever she’s about to say costs her, just like confessing to her cost me.
“It’s been such a shitty week.” Her fingers tremble on my jawline. “Then, when I ran off, you didn’t even zap me. I thought—”
“Zap you? While you were out there by yourself?” My eyes are drawn to the bruise.
To Aurora’s lips. Every delicate feature.
She’s strong, but my fucking God, is she fragile.
I should’ve been there. “So someone could’ve taken advantage of you?
You’re mine. Don’t you get it? No one’s allowed to put their filthy hands on you.
I wanted—no, needed—you back. Alive. Well. Not dead or wounded.”
A storm brews inside me. My muscles strain. Adrenaline pulses through me.
The wrath inside me is about to tear through my skin. It’s going to rip my suit to shreds.
Back then, I couldn’t protect my family. I’m stronger today. More powerful than I’ve ever been.
I’ll protect her.
If it’s the last thing I do.
“You really care.” Her delicate fingers slide to my neck. My nerves are so raw that the sensation has my teeth locking. “About me.”
“Of course.” It hasn’t been clear to either of us, though it should have. “You’re mine.”
Aurora twists in my hold, straddling me. My dick is hard. My teeth ache to bite into her tits. Her flesh. Anywhere I can leave my mark.
A force greater than lust restrains the beast inside me. I have to sit here and listen.
I place a hand on her hip. The other is locking her wrists together, derailing her path to undo my pants.