29. A Beautiful Lie
A Beautiful Lie
Isla
"I didn't know about the book," Eamon tells me the second we return to our hotel room. The journey from Alastor's place to here was silent, the weight of tonight's discoveries weighing us down. There was no point in talking aboutany ofit until we locked ourselves in here for the night. Too many possible ears out in the world. "I wouldn't have hidden that from you."
One of my brows raises in disbelief as I take my shoes off, "Right. Like you've been honest about everything else?"
"Isla," he sighs my name. "When it comes to you, and your family, the ways you are in danger, I have never once been dishonest with you."
"No, you just invaded my mind, plagued me with thoughts that I believed were my own, tricked me, violated me," the shake in my voice doesn't abate, no matter how hard I try to push through it. "You made me believe I was going crazy , Eamon."
"I know," he runs a hand down his face. "But that wasn't ever my intention. It started because I was worried you were keeping secrets from me. Secrets that would be dangerous. It was never supposed to be something I did long-term.
"But then... Fuck— you were so isolated. So intent on locking down everything you were feeling and doing it all alone. So I just... opened the door a little. Gave you something to fight with in your head besides yourself."
Humiliation creates a pit in my stomach.Hepried into my head and saw every nasty thing sitting in there. Every wall I've ever erected around my heart to protect myself, he knew about them and plowed right through them like they were made of paper. And I can't even bring myself to be mad at him.
It's not like I haven't kept my own secrets. And I really just don't want to fight withhim. Don't have the energy or the ambition. All I want is to be close to him, let him hold me and tell me thateverything's going tobe alright one more time.
I fight the tears clogging my throat, "I believe you."
He seems taken aback, suspicious. As he should be, honestly. "You do?"
"Yeah," I shrug, wanting nothing more than to reach for him and find comfort in his big,strongbody. "You're a stubborn ass, but I've never once thought you would do something to harm me on purpose."
He nods, taking a tentative step closer, "And the book?"
"Yeah, I believe you about that, too," I breathe.Heseems warily happy with that answer, coming closer and wrappinghis arms around me.
I sink into his embrace, soaking in his scent, his warmth, all but burying my face into his chest as he smoothes my hair down. I don't want him to ask the question, but I knew it was coming, prepared an answer for the last hour. I had a million different answers.Some petty and unkind, some trying to find humor inthe way we've bothkept things from each other.
But when he finally asks why I didn't tell him about Alastor, the truth is the only thing I can bring myself to give him, "You wouldn't have let me come," I sniffle. "I needed to be here. If there wasn't some light to the end of the tunnel, some break in the monotony of living underground like that... I was going to go crazy."
"We still have to go back," he tells me. "You're still clearly very much in danger here."
The thought of being locked back in the bunker doesn't fill me with the dreadthat itused to. Part of me even longs for the comfort, the safety—to just barricade myself in and enjoy Eamon for as long as I can. But this is bigger than me, and I need to do whatever is necessary to save the others.
Eamon's mentioned more than once that we're a mirror image of each other, and that's why we butt heads so often. And I'm proud that he sees himself mirrored in me. I'mproudthat this strong, self-sacrificing, willing-to-be-the-villain man sees me for the good parts and not just the bad. I want to be everything he is,and thatmeans I can't let his need to protect me doom the others to the fate I'm avoiding by hiding with him.
He's never going to forgive me. Who am I kidding? He might not ever get the chance to. The thought that this might be the last time Ieversee him makes my eyes water. I never thought this insufferable giant beast would mean so much to me, but caring for him and seeing all of him makes me more sure of what I need to do.Thisis thepart of his missionthat's haunted him for 50 years.And he can't find them, but I can.
Extracting myself from his hold, his arms fall to bracket my hips. His unwillingness to release me echoes my own sentiments, and I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down to meet my lips. A content, relieved sigh flows from his mouth to mine as I slant our mouths together, slowly savoring him. Every time we've had sex, it's been hard and frantic, like we could use each other's bodies to hide from our minds.
But just this once, I don't want to cower from who we could be if things were different. I press myself closer tohim, wishing I could plaster my skin tohisand never be apart again. His hands sink lower, wrapping those big fingers around my thighs and lifting me, my knees cradling his waist as he walks backward, sinking into the couch and pulling me onto his lap. Straddling his large thighs, I tug at his shirt, needing every inch of him on display. He eases out of the tee, his hands instantly cradling my jawas soon asthey're free. His lips melt against mine, their soft warmth both dizzying and heart-wrenching as he kisses me.The touch is so tender, so gentle, it makesa lump form in my throat.
With his sweet hold on my face, he pulls back a few inches, his eyes searching mine and making me feel wholly exposed. This closeness, this passion, is a vulnerability I wouldnormallyshy away from. It makes my heart pound in fear, but I wantso badlyto be brave for Eamon. If he's brave enough to look up at me like this, his expression so plain and open, he deserves that kind of honesty back. He's so beautiful right now, even more so than usual, the soft, pleading expression on his face almost bringing me to tears.
"Tell me that you're mine," he finally says, staring at me as if I hold the answers to the universe.As ifI could save him from the demons that plague him if I just give him this.
A lump forms in my throat, the words sticking, "Eamon, I-"
"I don't care that it isn't true." He sadly smiles, one of his hands drifting down over my shoulder to my hand, lifting my palm to rest against his cheek. Eyes closed, he leans into the soft touch, pleading with me to let myself be honest with us both, at least this once.He's even given me an out,offered the barrier of itpossibly being untrue to protect me from it. "Just tell me once so that I can go on existing, living in this beautiful lie."
My heart aches; the need to give him this while I still can is more important than any fear surrounding it. "I'm yours, Eamon. No matter what happens next."
Before he can respond and say something that makes leaving even harder, I kiss him again, trying to convey all the things I feel but can't say into the kiss, pressing my body to his to soak up every bit of him I can.
His hands traverse my skin, the closest thingto worshipI've ever felt.For the first time, there's a reverence in his touch as he eases me out of my dress, his fingertips ghosting along every bared inch of skin. His lips follow the trail along my shoulder, down my arm, kissing every fingertipwhilehis other hand gently releases me from my bra.
"I need you," I confess plainly, sighing as he laves his tongue over my collarbone. "Please."
He nods, his lips working back up my neck until they meet mine again. His tongue slides languidly against mine, making me moan into this kiss.
"I got you, baby," he whispers against my mouth beforetaking it again. "I'll take such good care of you."
The double meaning in his words makes my head spin. I already know he'll take care of me like this, the endless pleasure he's capable of, the unbelievable orgasms. But letting someonetake care ofme in other ways is a terrifying,wonderfulthought. What would it be like to let someone care for me? Someone as magnificent as Eamon? I can't even imagine, honestly.Hopefully, when this is all over, there will be time to find out.
I lift onto my knees just enough so he can free himself from his jeans and underwear, never taking his lips off of mine as his hard length escapes, settling against his stomach. With thesmallestsmirk against my lips, he rips my underwear, reminding me that no matter how tender and sweet he's being, the demon is always just under the surface, waiting to be unleashed. A surprised moan escapes my mouth, and he drinks it down, groaning when he finds my soaking wet center with his fingers.
"Isla," he moans, "You're so unbelievably perfect. Always so ready for me."
His fingers drifting across my opening and clit pull needy mewls from my throat, his dirty mouth running even when he's being so loving and tender, building the desperation inside me. He draws small circles on my clit while his mouth works down my neck, sucking and licking the skin there until I'm a panting mess.
But I don't want to fall apart anywhere but wrapped around him tonight. I reach one of my hands between us, gripping the base of him and positioning it right at my core, rubbing his head against the opening to soak him in my slick.
A choked moan escapes him from my boldness, his hand stopping its deft ministrations and landing on my hip to give me complete control. He pulls away from my throat, his heavy eyes landing between us where our bodies are about to join, his expression completely unguarded. Brows furrowed, jaw hanging slightly open, cheeks red, eyes clouding with red in the corners. His beauty is otherworldly, ethereal, and terrifying.
And he's mine.
For however long I'm lucky enough to have him.
Slowly, I sink myself onto him, the stretch as intense as always, making me gasp as I adjust to his size. He groans loudly, his eyes slipping closed as his head falls back against the couch. His hands flex from the effort of staying still while I seat myself fully on him, rocking back and forth languidly.
I gently grab his face, pulling him back to me as I ride him, the fullness forcing quiet moans out of me with every motion. I need to see his gorgeous face and watch him unravel with me. His hooded gaze meets mine, vulnerable and soft, long lashes flutteringwhilehe tries to focus on anything but how my body wraps so perfectly around his.
He grits his teeth, a growl slipping out. "Isla— fuck— baby, you feel incredible."
"Yeah?"
His brows pinch together so firmly he looks almost pained, a quiet little whimper slipping out while I slide up and down on his length. He nods frantically, his fingers digging into me. "I'm trying so hard to stay still and let you ride me cuz you feel so damn good. But— fucking hell— oh, god, yeah, just like that."
I pick up the pace just a little, riding and grinding, letting my clit rub against him with every stroke. I can see in his face how difficult it is to sit and let me take what I want, how badly he wants to take over and fuck up into me. One of his hands moves from my waist to my nipple, gently pinching and rolling it between his thumb and finger. The soft touch sends waves of pleasure between my legs, adding to the sensation of him filling me over and over.
I moan his name, my hand buried in his hair to keep his face locked against mine so I can see every reaction. Desperate moans and groans pour like endless praise out of his mouth, mumbling my name while his eyes roll back into his head before he fights to focus them on me again. "You're so good. So fucking perfect. You're everything — everything to me."
The words I've hoped to hear from anyone for years fall from his mouth like an edict and prayer. My body and heart both threaten to shatter, my orgasm rapidly approaching while my eyes water from his emotional confession.
"Eamon," I whimper his name, fighting to stay present instead of letting my head destroy this moment.
Knowing just what I need, he firmly sinks one hand into the hair at my nape, keeping us nose to nose while he moves his hips in time with mine, rising up to meet me while his grip on my hip moves me back and forth.
"Stay right here, baby. I got you, gorgeous," he moans. " My gorgeous girl. You're mine."
I nod, unable to speak.
"Say it."
"I'm yours," I mewl, inching closer and closer to the edge.
With a loud growl, he keeps us moving. "Again."
"I'm yours," the words come out in a scream, then they come out again and again, the two syllables the only thoughts in my head as my body careens over the edge. The orgasm hits me so hard the only thing I have to hold onto are those two words and the swirling pools of red before me, holding me captive.
The pleasure washes over me in waves, my body fluttering, spikes of heat flowing out from my center to the rest of my body. Eamon's loud growl as he pumps into me, filling me with his orgasm, extends my pleasure, the overwhelming sensations pulling blissed-out sighs from my lips as we continue to move together, our motions slow and languid.
Only when I can't possibly take anymore does he stop, releasing his grip on my hair and smoothing it down. I lay my head on his chest, reveling in the feel of him still hard inside me while our shared pleasure pools beneath us.
He lays his jaw against my head, using his free hand to draw soft circles on my spine, connectingusboth body and soul with his gentle touch. My heart pounds right against his, the echo of it bringing me almost to insanity. Tears well in my eyes, knowing there's a very good chance this is the last time we'll see each other, and I don't even get to tell this wonderful man goodbye or any of the other things he deserves to hear.
I sniffle, and Eamon stiffens, looking down at me with worry written all over his face.
"What's wrong, baby?"
The last thing I want is to lie to him, but I can't tell the truth, or I'll never get another chance to do what Ihave to.
"I'm just... it's been a really trying couple of days," okay, so it's not a lie.
He sighs, "Yeah. You've been through a lot." He continues his soft circles on my bare skin. "Not just the last few days, but the last forever." That's an understatement . "But you're strong enough to withstand it all. You, my little hunter, could withstand anything."
My chest threatens to cave in completely. I can't take this any longer, or I'll never do what needs to be done.
I rise up, removing him from my warmth and myself from his embrace. The discomfort of him sliding out makes me miss him immediately, wishing I could prolong our time together. With a final kiss against his lips that he tries to chase, I stand, grabbing my clothes from the floor.
He watches me, his brows pinched in confusion and concern as he tucks himself away.
"They're going to be pissed about the couch, you know," I tell him, echoing what I said about the door he ruined earlier.
A small smile lifts one side of his mouth, "I'm sure this couch has seen worse."
My nose scrunches in disgust as I laugh, "Gross. You were naked on that."
With a shrug, he stands, reaching for me and pulling me into an embrace against his chest. A content sigh fills the air, and it might be his or mine or both; I'm not really sure. He cradles my facein his hands, peering down at me with that blissful, hopeful expression again. With a chaste kiss on my lips, he releases me.
And not a moment too soon,withthe tears threatening to blossom again. I chew on my lip, knowing what I'm about to ask foris going tobe the beginning of the end, no matter whathisanswer is.
"Can I just go say bye to Bel?" my voice cracks on the word bye, and I squeeze my eyes shut against the emotion.
He's silent for a second before answering, "They're only what, two doors down?"
I nod, not looking at him.
"Are you sure they'll be awake? It's like 1:30." Is he actually considering this?
"Which means it's only 10:30 Vegas time," I assure him. "Which is like the middle of the day for them."
He chuckles, and I feel him twirling a strand of my hair around his finger, "Alright. Do you want me to come with you?"
"No," I say almost too quickly. "It's going to be very tearful, very weepy." He narrows his eyes suspiciously, so I continue with his kryptonite. "And I'm talking about Fritz, not Bel."
With a disgusted groan, he holds up both palms. "No thank you."
Quickly, I dress andrun abrush through my hair, my hands shaking the entire time.
Grabbing my phone and purse, I find Eamon on the chair by the front door, working on his computer. "I'll be right back," I tell him.
He grabs my hand, kissing my fingertips, something like wary adoration in his eyes, "Do not leave Fritz and Caspian's sight. They know you're coming."
I blink in disbelief, "You texted them?"
"Just Caspian. Can't fucking stand the other one."
I scoff, "Eamon. I'm an adult. I can walk 15 feet down the hall."
"Forgive my paranoia, please," he sadly smiles. "We need to leave here at 6."
"What?"
He releases my hand, "Go spend some time with your weird, nocturnal friends. Just be back here by like 5:45. I'll have everything packed."
My lips wobble with emotion, "Really?"
"Really. I trust you."
I can't help myself, leaning forward and pressing our lips together, sealing my fate with a kiss before darting out the door, closing it behind me.
I trust you.
I'm not worthy of that trust. Andheshouldn't be giving it to me. I mean, I just bolted earlier tonight.
And I'm about to prove to him just how wrongly placed it is.
Ijusthope I get a chance to apologize.