Chapter 29 Home #2
I cried for a long moment, and he just let me, no more words were spoken, the hold of his arms, and the stroke of his fingers on my back eased the storm brewing within.
Finally, I took a deep breath and stepped back.
Our gazes locked. His eyes were soft, compassionate, and they captivated me.
He captivated me—tall, powerful, beautiful, and safe.
I must have looked a sight standing there, covered in black soot with a tear-stained face, but in that moment I didn’t care.
I needed to remove the pain, to think about something else, anything else.
An electrical current pulled between us, urging me to him. I stood on my toes and kissed him.
He erupted. His hands wrapped around me, trapping me to his body.
His lips hit mine, passionate and desperate.
A groan rumbled up his throat, sending a burst of wet desire to my core.
His mouth tasted sweet, with a hint of whiskey.
And never mind the time of day. His tongue whispered across mine, sending shivers down my spine.
I pressed my breasts against his chest. My hips into his groin.
I felt his erection push against his pants, and I ached with want.
His lips didn’t leave mine as he spun us effortlessly and pressed my back against a tree.
His hips ground into mine, his cock rock hard.
He moaned, the sound raw and feral, and it sent another hot surge of wetness between my legs.
I clambered for the button on his jeans.
Abruptly, he stepped back. I stared up at him in disbelief, breathless, my heartbeat drumming.
“This is not a good idea,” he rasped.
I could see the passion in his eyes, but also a deep torment I couldn’t understand.
Maybe I wasn’t pretty enough for him. He could have his pick of women; he’d hardly choose me.
I found myself thinking of Rebecca, her svelte figure—she was perfectly groomed and classy. A world away from the girl I was.
Humiliation plummeted into my stomach and heat climbed my cheeks.
Oh god.
“It’s not—”
“It’s okay,” I interrupted quickly. I couldn’t stand it if he said, “It’s not you, it’s me.” I was humiliated enough without having those god-awful, crushing words uttered. “I’m sorry,” I murmured, looking out at the blackened trees to escape his gaze. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“You have no need to be sorry, Amelia,” he said, sounding pained. “It’s not—”
“Jesus,” I snapped, holding up my palm. “Just stop, Karson. Don’t.”
He glanced off to the side, looking perplexed.
“Just . . . don’t,” I said with a sigh. “Can we forget about it, please?”
He looked back. A frown split his brow as he nodded slowly.
I dropped my head, wrapped my arms around myself, and walked back toward the car. My leg began to throb, and with each step, the pain grew until it became a stabbing agony.
He fell in line with my steps. “Is your leg hurting?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re limping,” he insisted.
“I said, I’m fine.”
We reached the bottom of the sharp rise I’d run down. It was steeper than I’d realized now that I was standing at the bottom looking up. I gritted my teeth and pushed forward.
In a swift, easy motion, before I even realized what was happening, Karson had scooped me up in his arms. The vision of him carrying me through the flames echoed in my mind.
The feeling of his hand tucked against my hair, cradling my nose to his chest. The smell of smoke, mingled with scent of the sweet cologne he wore.
The same scent I smelled now. It seemed so familiar. But it wasn’t, was it?
He glided effortlessly up the steep incline as if I weighed no more than a doll.
I kept my head turned outward; I couldn’t meet his gaze. Then he placed me down beside the car.
“Thank you,” I muttered.
His shirt was covered in smudged soot where I’d pressed up against him. He reached into the glove box and pulled out baby wipes. I just stared at him.
He read the question, his lips hooked up. “They come in handy for times when you have to chase a crazy lady through the woods.”
His words struck an invisible wound. “I’m not crazy,” I snapped, sharper than I intended as I snatched the wipe out of his hand, cleaning off as much as I could.
He blinked, taken aback. “I do not think you are.” He gave me another and another.
I could wipe the ash from my skin but not from my clothing and I didn’t want to stain his car.
I sighed. “I need to get changed.”
I followed him around to the trunk where he pulled a white T-shirt and a denim mini skirt from my bag.
Normally I was quite modest, a “prude” Kelly had once called me, but today I didn’t care.
I couldn’t have been humiliated any more than I already was.
I whipped off my T-shirt, and Karson turned his head away. I began to unbutton the skirt.
“Amelia, there’s a car coming.”
I was too preoccupied with hoisting my dignity up off the floor to take much notice, but I did pause briefly to listen and heard nothing.
I pulled off the skirt, standing in just a bra and black lacy underwear.
No doubt they were Jodie’s selection. I heard it at the same time my eyes landed on a light-blue truck, appearing from around the corner.
“Shit,” I muttered.
“I told you.” Karson’s hands wrapped around the sides of my waist, and he twirled me to the side of the car, placing himself between me and the oncoming driver.
The old square-looking truck pulled up in the middle of the road beside our car, which thankfully sheltered my almost naked body. An older, dark-haired man reached over and manually wound down his passenger-side window.
“Are you folks okay?” he asked in a deep Southern accent.
“Fine, thank you,” Karson responded, a grind in his tone.
The man frowned and looked at me. “Are you sure?”
“Fine, honestly,” I said as brightly as I could muster.
He took one long, last look at me and nodded, deciding I was okay, his old truck rattling as he drove off.
“Get dressed,” Karson snapped, moving to the trunk and throwing the clothes at me.
I caught them with my good hand, then sat the T-shirt on the car seat and pulled the skirt up one-handed, struggling with the button.
He changed his own top at the trunk of the car, and I caught a glimpse of his chest. The tattoo was a raven, its wings spread across broad, sleek, muscled perfection.
I felt like a kid peering through the store window of a closed candy shop and looked away before he caught me. When he finished, I was still struggling to do up my skirt. The new hole was too tight for the size of the button.
“Here, let me.” He reached down. I fixed my gaze out on the road, trying not to think of the feel of his fingers so close to my pelvic bone, or the ache in my core, or the idea of his fingers sliding under my skirt and slipping inside me.
“Thank you,” I mumbled, my cheeks flaming, stepping back quickly.
“Need a hand with the T-shirt too?” He held it out, annoyance replaced by amusement as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.
“I think I’ve got it.” I ripped it from his grasp, pulling it one-handed without grace over my head.
How did he hear the truck so long before it came?
The strength and speed he’d shown fighting those men in The Hollow?
Running faster than humanly possible. Even if it never happened, the fight did.
History says vampires originated here. The death rate locally has always been high. People die here all the time, Darcy’s words reverberated in my ears, sending a chill crawling over my skin.
There was nothing human about his skills. What was he? A vampire? Impossible. And it didn’t fit; I couldn’t exactly see him drinking blood. He was way too sophisticated for that.
“How did you see the deer?” Karson snapped my thoughts back to the present.
He was leaning with his back against the car, his arms crossed, regarding me intently. I glanced down at the forest below, but I couldn’t see where she lay from where we were.
“I don’t know—I must have caught a glimpse of her back up the road,” I said, unsure myself.
A strange, disconcerted expression crossed his face, but he said nothing.
We drove in awkward silence. I kept my eyes straight ahead. In my periphery, I could see he kept glancing at me with a comment perched on his lips, which never came.
After what felt like an eternity of torture, but was perhaps only ten minutes later, we pulled onto a long driveway. It wound up through the forestry on the right.
At the top, the drive circled in front of a large, double-storey brick home. It was surrounded by sprawling landscaped gardens, with big billowing trees scattered around before giving way to the natural forest.
An extra-high, double-sized carport was attached to a walkway leading to the front door, and a triple garage sat off to the side of the house. I couldn’t believe how lovely it was.
“It’s beautiful here,” I blurted, sneaking a quick glance at him.
“I thought you’d like it.”
He opened a large, heavy, wooden front door and ushered me inside.
It led into a hallway, and the right-side wall was made of stacked stone.
The other was painted beige. It stopped several feet in and opened up to a large sitting room with wooden floors and high ceilings.
Straight ahead was a staircase. Everything held a warm and welcoming feel.
We rounded the corner into the sitting room, which had a huge stacked-stone open fireplace.
A tan couch and two armchairs sat facing each other.
There was a dining table at the back of the room, and a large, well-appointed kitchen was visible off of the sitting room.
We toured the house upstairs. It had six bedrooms, each with its own bathroom. They spread out across two long corridors headed in different directions. Downstairs, there was also a gym, a library, and a study—all with views out across the forest.
Karson opened a thick, old wooden door, which led downstairs into a pitch-black basement.
Something dark and unpleasant stirred in the deepest corners of my mind.
The air left my chest, and a slow dose of fear rolled through my body.
Everything was black. The darkness always held horror.
My heart thumped against the cage of my chest.
“Are you scared of the dark?” He must have caught the expression on my face.
“No, I just can’t see,” I lied, uncomfortable with the disclosure.
He reached in and flicked on the lights. The walls were old, chunky brick, and the air hung thick, musty, and damp with chill.
I shivered all over. “It’s fine, I don’t need to go down there,” I said, backing away.
“It’s just the cellar.” He cocked his head to the side. “There’s only wine.”
“There’s wine at the bar—I don’t need to see it.” I spun away.
He flicked off the lights and closed the heavy wooden door. The sound of it shutting behind me made me jump.
Breathe, Amy, breathe. I scurried to the sitting room.
“Will this be suitable?” Karson asked, as if I might say no. I wondered what kind of home he normally lived in; this was a mansion compared to what I was used to.
“It’s more than suitable—it’s almost too good to be true. How is it possible to find a home so beautiful so quickly?” I asked dubiously.
Karson grimaced. “There’s just one small catch.”
“Welcome, roomie.”
I looked up. Ethan stood leaning on the door frame, a big grin on his dial.
“You live here?” I asked with resigned disbelief.
“Yes, I do. How lucky are you!”