Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Ariana
The ocean air cooled my skin as I sat on a lounge chair on the patio of Henry’s house in Coral Gables, Cato sleeping on the ground beside me, his soft snores barely audible over the sound of the nearby waves.
There was once a time when the feel of the ocean breeze on my skin was one of my only sources of comfort. Now it felt lacking. I’d only been here a few hours, and I already missed the quiet tranquility of Henry’s farmhouse in the middle of nowhere.
While Henry was happy for me to accompany him down to Florida so he could check on Blake, he didn’t want to risk me being recognized in public, not when I was still technically missing.
After his private jet landed, he drove me to his place in Coral Gables, double and triple checked all the security, then left for the hospital, leaving me to entertain myself. Which wasn’t too hard, considering this house also had a large library filled with books.
But the longer Henry was gone, the more I started to worry about him.
Did something happen?
Was this a trap, too?
Did the cops figure out what really happened and arrest Henry at the hospital when he showed up to visit Blake?
Hundreds of different scenarios filtered through my brain with every passing minute.
Suddenly, Cato jumped up and darted inside the house, his barks echoing through the space.
I scrambled to my feet and hurried inside, exhaling a relieved breath when I reached the foyer and saw Henry scratching Cato’s head.
“Is everything okay?” I asked. “How’s Blake?”
“He’s fine. A little banged up, but he’ll recover.”
“That’s great,” I replied with a smile.
But Henry didn’t match my enthusiasm. Instead, he seemed…tired. Burdened somehow.
I told myself it didn’t matter. The last few days had been trying. So much had happened. So much had been revealed. He was probably just processing everything.
“I’m going to hop in the shower. Wash the hospital off me,” he uttered softly, moving toward the stairs, not stopping to kiss me.
I tried not to read too much into it. But when he walked past me and I caught a whiff of alcohol, I knew something was bothering him.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, following him.
“I’m fine.” He pushed out a long sigh. “It’s just been a rough couple of days.”
I watched as he pulled himself up the stairs, unable to shake the feeling in my gut he wasn’t being completely honest with me.
It seemed to be his default. Keep everything to himself. Keep everyone out. It was how he could stay in control. But that wasn’t going to work for me. He wanted me to talk to him about whatever I was going through. I needed the same from him.
So instead of allowing him to shut me out, I followed him up the stairs and into the bedroom, touching a hand to his arm to stop him from disappearing into the bathroom.
“It’s obviously more than that. What’s wrong?”
“Ariana…,” he exhaled deeply.
“Henry,” I replied mimicking his tone. Then I grabbed his hands in mine, running my thumb along his calloused skin.
“Please. Let me in. Last night, I promised not to shut you out when things got difficult. I need you to make me the same promise. Something’s bothering you. I can see it in your eyes. Talk to me.”
He studied me for several long moments, like I was asking for something he wasn’t capable of giving me. I half expected for him to insist it was nothing yet again.
Then he pushed out a long breath, pulling his hands from mine and lowering himself onto the bed. “I noticed…something today at the hospital.”
“What’s that?” I sat beside him.
“Blake has a sort of brand right here.” He touched the left side of his chest just over his heart.
“What kind of brand?”
“It’s a symbol. A cross that turns into a sword with a jagged crown on top.”
“And that’s important because…?”
“I think Amber, Sarah’s mom, had the same brand. Hers wasn’t as clear. It almost looked like she’d tried to cut it off at some point. But she had that crown. I’m sure of it. And then…”
“Yes?” I leaned closer.
“When I mentioned how Victor said Sarah had been ‘chosen’, he tensed up. Brought his hand to his chest and rubbed at his brand.”
“What’s the significance of that?”
“I don’t know.” His jaw ticked, his lips forming a tight line as he shifted his gaze forward for a beat before looking my way once more. “Something about it rubbed me the wrong way. Like he’s lying to me. Like he might know more than he’s letting on and is purposefully keeping me in the dark.”
“Why would he do that?”
He heaved a long sigh, resting his forearms on his thighs, his posture shrunken. A far cry from the confident, unwavering man I’d always known him to be.
“I don’t know. That’s what I’m struggling with. But ever since his reaction to learning Sarah was ‘chosen’, I’ve had this gnawing feeling in my gut that he’s not being completely honest.”
“Henry…,” I sighed, angling toward him and grabbing his hands in mine, forcing him to look at me.
“Listen to yourself. This is Blake you’re talking about.
I may not know him as well as you do, but think about everything he’s done for you.
He helped you take care of the Bratva soldier who tried to take me, as well as the team they sent up to Maine.
Tracked down Dr. Schaffer. Found the files on all those women he’d sterilized.
Tracked down Victor. Risked his life to save yours…
And mine. Blake isn’t the bad guy here. Victor is.
Now that he’s gone, I think you’re just looking for another villain.
Someone else to blame. But the only one to blame is finally gone. Okay?”
He stared at me for several long moments, his expression tense. Then his shoulders relaxed as he released a deep exhale.
“You’re right. I don’t know what I was…” He closed his eyes and shook his head, as if ridding his brain of the thought. “I guess after spending the better part of the past year hunting Victor, I’m not sure what to do with myself.”
“Is that right?” I cooed as I leaned toward him, brushing his lips. “Because I know something you can do with yourself.”
He arched a flirtatious eyebrow. “And what’s that?”
“Me,” I murmured, trailing my mouth along his jawline, the stubble scratching lightly against my skin. “I’m yours.”
“Mine,” he repeated, a hint of awe in his tone.
“Yes, Henry. I’m yours.” I crawled on top of him, my legs straddling him while he remained sitting. “So take me.”
He stared at me for several protracted moments.
The tension that covered every inch of him seconds ago shifted into something else. His gaze was no longer clouded with suspicion or confusion, but with hunger. Lust.
Raw need.
He wrapped his hand around my hair, yanking my head back, his intense gaze tracing over every inch of me.
Then he crashed his mouth against mine.