22. Chapter Twenty-Two
Icouldn’t stop. Now that the pieces were in place, the right people were in the know… I needed her.
I should have let her sleep. I should have let her be well-rested for all that tomorrow might bring her. But I’m a selfish bastard.
I drew her into my arms, kissed her shoulder and let my cock throb in the space between us until she was squirming, rubbing herself against me. It was all the encouragement I needed to mount her, pinning her beneath me and banishing the thoughts of her ever being out of my sight until we both tipped over the edge.
She laughed, afterwards. She smiled at me, and kissed me with that look of adoration that could make me melt. When I didn’t join her afterglow, she stroked my face, whispering a sweet, “What’s wrong?”
I couldn’t speak. The words were stuck in my throat, so I didn’t try.
I pulled her to me and kissed her cool cheek, letting her hair surround me in the fragrance of lilacs and that haunting musk, her sweet arousal still on my skin.
It would have been polite to clean her, to take her to the shower… but I didn’t want that. I wanted her coated in my cum, marking her for one last time.
My heart squeezed, and my arms tightened.
“Jericho,” she gasped, “You’re hurting me.”
I instantly released her and looked down.
“I’m okay, you were just holding me really tight,” she said quickly, seeing the worry in my eyes.
I kissed her. Devouring her strawberry lips, and she responded beautifully. Just as I knew she would.
“One more,” I begged, gruffly. She soundlessly complied, her legs spreading, her moans spurring me on as I gazed into her face while I made love to her. I memorized every divet in her furrowed brow, and every curve of her lip, and the line on her lip when she bit it in ecstasy.
I buried myself deep inside her until I was lost in the images of her, round with my child. And it hurt.
It stabbed at my chest knowing that these visions would never come true, and that our journey was ending.
After burying myself with the delusions of making her round with my child, she collapsed on the bed, tired, her breathing labored and exhausted.
“You’re insatiable, Mr. Vasiliev,” she whispered with a little happy giggle. “You’re the husband a woman dreams of having.”
I touched the curve of her shoulder as she turned away from me, getting ready to curl for sleep.
I’m not the husband you dream of,I thought bitterly.
I lay behind her, curling her into my abdomen, and cupping her breasts in my hand. I hardened again, and I mentally kicked myself, knowing that I should let her go now. I should leave her alone. Let her rest. She starts the rest of her life tomorrow, and I was selfishly demanding she give me more of her attention, her body, her soul…
I couldn’t help but pinch the little pink nipple, and she gasped.
“Again?” She asked, surprised, turning her head to me.
The back of my eyes burned with unshed tears. I cleared my throat.
“Just one more.” I promised. More to her than to myself.
“You’re so far from me,” she said, looking concerned.
“I’m right here,” I whispered, indicating where her back lay flush against my front, and my legs tangled with hers.
“You know what I mean,” she said, her tone worried.
“It’s nothing,” I kissed her throat, nipping on her creamy skin.
I bit down on her shoulder, taking the skin between my teeth and sucking it hard until she gasped, but I didn’t relent. I continued to bite and suck until I was assured that there’d be a purple mark - my mark on her skin.
I made love to her like this, feeling her in my arms, my face laying in the pillow of her wild red curls.
After the fourth time, she fell asleep in my arms. I didn’t dare move. Not even to turn off the bedside lamp. I lay awake all night, memorizing her in the moonlight that streamed from the open window. Then, in the dark blue of the dawn, as it gave way to the oranges and purples of the sunrise.
I traced my free hand over the curve of her hip, the narrowing at her waist. I traced every single scar on her legs and back, worshiping each one. Not for the pain they inflicted, but for the strength it took for her to endure each one. My daughter and sister had a very specific kind of strength. One born in a gym, in combat, in the ability to close in on an enemy and kill them.
But Eve’s strength lay in her quiet perseverance. Her mental strength to endure, and keep her kindness and goodness intact. A lesser person would have descended into cruelty and blackness, but not her. Even when she thought I was the same as Alastair Green, she was still ready to step between me and my daughter if she thought I hurt her. When she had only one avenue of escape, she gave the last of what she had to save a girl who was a stranger to her - Kira.
Where my family were warriors, she was mother, and earth, and nurturer.
When singing birds came to the little balcony, I watched as they seemed to draw a sigh from my wife’s sleep.
No. Not wife. At least, not mine. I had to stop thinking of her that way.
If I could have driven a knife into my own chest, it would have hurt less than the agony I was in.
The birds seemed to regard me with the same strange fascination I had for them. They were funny little birds, with black backs, white chests, and a little blue on their wings before they were capped with white tips. They chirped, as if asking me a question.
“Fuck off.” I told them, for no real reason. The bitterness and blackness which had been so familiar to me before I found my daughter, and before I had Eve threatened to overwhelm me.
I slid my arm from under her head, and she didn’t stir.
I showered, rinsing her scent from my skin, arguing that it would be easier that way. When I came out, she was awake, stretching in the bed. I tried to smile, but only managed to pull my lips back in acknowledgment.
“You should get ready. You have a long day ahead of you.” I told her, getting the little coffee pot in the room started.
“Where are we going today?” She asked, her well-rested eyes looking at me with concern.
“It’s a surprise.” I told her, and I kept the bitterness out of my voice as I added, “You’ll like it.”
“Did you sleep?” she asked, tilting her head, and I admired the little bounce of her curls.
I shook my head, pressing the button and the coffee maker gurgled to life.
“I’ll make you some tea tonight, so you can rest,” she said with a satisfied smile.
“That’d be nice.” I turned my back to her, hiding how much those words hurt me. There’d be no more fucking tea. Never again. “You should go shower.”
The rest happened in a blur. She went, and I picked out her clothes. At that point, I was just a glutton for punishment, dressing her for another man. Leather black, knee-high boots, a long plaid skirt, and copper colored jacket that brought out the redness of her hair, and the green in her eyes.
“How do I look?” she said, twirling, and kicking up one heel.
At that, I couldn’t help but smile.
She went to her bag, and fished out a long black ribbon. With heartache, I recognized it. The ribbon she had bound our hands with, on the day she cut our palms and did that ridiculous handfasting. She lifted it to her hair, placing half of it in an updo, tying a beautiful bow into her fiery hair.
The ribbon would mean nothing now. The scar on her palm, just one of many she would bear as a mark of a life that she suffered to become free.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” I embraced her, burying my face into her hair, hiding the tears that welled in my eyes. I let them fall into her curls, as I whispered. “I’m a lucky man.”
I meant it. I was lucky for the short time I had with her. For the moment that she let her sweetness fill my life. But like that flower, the Queen of the Night, the moment was sweeter for its brevity. Now the dawn of our time together was coming, and it was time for me to wither and wilt, because her perfection was no longer mine.
The urge to call this all off was overwhelming. The urge to hide her and lock her away from the world and keep her only to myself was more than I could stand. But I wasn’t Alastair fucking Green.
“Let’s go,” I said, yanking her out of the room.
I couldn’t hold her hand. Not this time. If I did, I’d never let her go. But she curled her hands around my elbow as we walked, burying her nose into my arm as we made our way down the quaint cobblestone street. We passed shops that were still closed, but their owners were slowly turning on their lights. Some were turning their signs from Closed to Open.
I pulled a little black card from my pocket. I summoned all my training, all my control, to get through the bitterness that I would need to swallow for what came next.
I placed the card between her fingers.
“This is your own bank account,” I told her, keeping my tone business and casual. Stone cold. “The way to access it is on a piece of paper in your bag.”
“Oh!” She gasped. “Thank you, but you don’t need to…”
“You’ll have enough to start your own shop if you like,” I interrupted. “You could buy this town three times over, if that was what you wanted. Don’t worry about what’s in it. You’ll never need to work a day in your life, if you don’t want to.”
“Jericho,” she whispered my name, trying to thaw my tone. She knew me so well now. That would make this hard.
“Eoghan will never come after you, the threat to you is over.” I continued, refusing to look at her as her jewel eyes bore into the side of my face. “Everything has been set up for your safety.”
I stopped her in front of a large storefront window, turning us to face inside the building. Red brick framed the display. A small green overhang was out. The owner had just turned on a few lights inside, revealing a golden glow on the shelves.
She gasped. “These are lovely!”
She leaned in to admire the leather bound books that were stacked at the window. The smile nearly ripped me in two.
She traced her finger on the glass, reading the names of the books, and oblivious to the storm brewing inside me.
“You should go in.” I told her, as a man in a white, woolen fisherman’s sweater came and turned the sign from “closed” to “open”. He spied us, and gave us a little nod. His eyes turned to Eve, and he tilted his head, contemplating something. I bet he recognized her, but didn’t believe it.
He was graying at the temples, with little wire glasses that made him look distinguished. Professorial, even. It was all so ordinary, so normal. So domestic and simple and I envied all of that for once. The boring, humdrum of a simple life, with a perfect wife.
The urge to punch through the glass and choke the life out of him was overwhelming. But I kept my hands in my pockets, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“You should go in.” I repeated, and she stood up straight.
“You won’t come with me?”
“Not for this one.” I told her.
“Will you be here when I come out?” She asked. Smart girl. She knew something was happening, but wasn’t sure what. She was prying, trying to coax answers from me. Coaxing answers from a trained professional. I laughed. I loved her for it. I loved her for everything that she was.
“Jericho?” She whispered, bringing her hands to my collar. “You’ll be here when I come out, right?”
I finally looked at her. Because I knew she wouldn’t go if I didn’t. I brought my forehead down to hers, taking her scent in for a final time. I brought my hand to the nape of her neck, feeling her hair caress the back of my hand. I shut my eyes, savoring her, before this treasure disappeared from my existence.
“Yes.” I lied. With a heavy heart, I lied to my wife.
No, I reminded myself. Not my wife. Not mine at all.
But she believed my lie, and sighed with relief.
“Okay.” She smiled, coming on her tiptoes to kiss me. I turned my head, giving her my cheek. If I tasted her mouth again, I would fucking crumble. It would break me.
She practically bounced as she danced her way into the bookstore, the little bell above the door announcing her entrance.
I turned and walked down the street. A little pixie stood at the corner, leaning against the brick. Her leather jacket was pulled close around her. The little assassin tilted her head as she looked at my face.
“Holy fuck, Brett Bradley,” she said with a cruel smile. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you look like you’re about to suck start a pistol.”
I ignored her smart ass comment. I pulled an envelope from my pocket and handed it to her.
“Whenever she picks a place to live, drop this where she’ll find it,” I instruct.
She plucked the envelope from my hand. “What is it?”
“Divorce papers.”
“Holy fuck, Brett, what the hell is going on?”
I shook my head. Not willing to talk about it. Not with her.
“Is her security set up?”
“Yeah, round the clock security, and if anyone hurts her, we’ll report back to you to request a kill order.” She confirmed.
I nodded and walked away.
“Brett!” she called, still using my old cover name. “What the hell is happening?”
“I’m setting her free,” I said through gritted teeth. “This is her out. You gave your brother an out from the life in the shadows. I’m doing the same.”
Her eyes were wide as she crossed her arms. “Jesus. I didn’t know you could be so self-sacrificing.”
I fucking wasn’t. I was two seconds away from rushing into that bookstore, throwing her over my shoulder and taking her back to the jet and locking her away in a cage.
But I nodded and walked away.
“Mama says you should come by for dinner,” the little smart ass continued. “Maybe she could set you up with someone from church.”
She arched a humorous brow and I chuckled, shaking my head at her.
“I don’t say this to you often…” I looked Lea the assassin in the eye. “But you’re kind of a bitch.”
Her smile brightened, as she shrugged. “Thanks!”