Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
W itford, Tisha and the others had bolted when they’d come on the scene. Rev and Lawrence had gone into the water to cut Veracity free, and Tiger helped pull her out. While Lawrence started CPR, Ros called an ambulance.
Now Veracity was breathing, and she’d gifted them with that brief precious moment when her eyes opened and took them all in, before she passed out again.
Ros gripped Lawrence’s shoulder, and knelt in the muck next to her friend. She lifted Veracity up against her and stroked her hair while her eyes closed, her face wracked with sorrow, anger and relief.
Rev bent his head over Vera’s hand and pressed his face there. He couldn’t let her go, couldn’t relinquish her. That lifeline between them still hummed, and he had to hold it tight, be sure of it. Thank you, Lord. Thank you. Everything else was tearing him up inside, but he would take that, take any level of suffering, for the gift of her survival.
His family hadn’t killed her. Five words that shocked him to the foundations of everything he’d thought he’d known about them, about what they called love for him.
“The police need to know where to find them,” Ros said.
It took a few moments to realize she was talking to him. Rev lifted his gaze to meet hers. When he didn’t immediately provide her an answer, those blue irises went arctic cold, the eyes of a vengeful goddess. “You have a problem with that?”
What he saw in Lawrence and Tiger’s hard faces told him they might overrule him. He understood, but he knew what he had to do. “I’ll go get them to turn themselves in.”
“And if they won’t?”
“They will.” He looked down at Veracity. One side of her face was badly swollen. Thinking of who might have done it, and who was responsible for all of it, turned the rage in his heart into a frightening force.
It must have shown, because Lawrence touched his arm, drawing his attention. “It might be better for the police to go get them,” he said.
“Yes. But my aunt…I need to do it. If it isn’t done in the next hour, then call the police.”
When he looked back down, Veracity’s eyes were open again. Mere slits, but she was gazing at him. Shock and trauma meant she probably wasn’t entirely aware of what was happening, but he gave her the main thing she needed to hear.
“You’re safe,” he said. “You’re with your family.”
Vera’s gaze moved to Ros. Her boss had her halfway over her lap. Vaguely, Vera wondered what shoes she’d worn for the rescue. Lawrence was kneeling by her shoulder, and Tiger stood tall and strong over them. Rev had said she was safe, but their faces held a tension that suggested something was unresolved.
Rev’s expression had that dangerous look he could get, but he was suffering beneath it. She understood why, but she couldn’t reach for what she needed to help him. But he wasn’t asking for anything. Instead, when he touched her face, softly, his eyes held onto every part of her. He told her again that she was safe and okay.
Then he told her other things.
“You taught me to imagine the details of your face, to hold you in that heart chakra. But that don’t take no effort or practice at all. You all up in me, in every way.”
Something else was going on. She’d heard them talking over her, and the meaning of the words was there, if she could recall them. When she did, she wished she hadn’t.
He was leaving her. The anguish in him, the suppressed urgency, was the war between his need to seek her understanding, if not her permission, and realizing she couldn’t handle anything else right now. Particularly that.
She might understand at another moment, when she was far enough away from this one. But the knowledge throbbed under her heart, an overwhelming pain. He was going to confront his family. Which meant, in a convoluted way, he was choosing them over her, when she needed him with her, right now.
She knew it wasn’t as simple as that, that she wasn’t thinking clearly. But damn it, she shouldn’t have to. He needed to stay with her. Let the police handle it.
But he wouldn’t.
She’d taught herself, over and over again, to stand on the foundation she’d created for herself. It was the place from which she could handle whatever life threw at her.
Somehow, she dragged herself to that center point now. If she could get through the next few seconds, she’d reward herself with unconsciousness again.
“Go do what you have to do, Rev.” Her voice was hoarse. From the water, from screaming, from dehydration. “Thank you…for coming to get me.”
His confusion at her tone was brief. Painful acceptance replaced it. He relinquished her hand, but he didn’t just let it go. He guided it to one of Ros’s hands, folding her fingers over Vera’s, and holding both for a weighted second. He met her boss’s angry eyes. “I’ll be back to her, soon as I can be.”
When he rose, he gave them a grateful nod. “Thank you,” he said.
When he walked away, Vera pressed her head against Ros’s chest. She held out for about a minute. Maybe less. Just enough time for her to know he was gone. Then everything started to spill forth. Ros held her as Vera sobbed, her infamous control so beyond her grasp she wasn’t sure she’d ever find it again. She shook so hard that Tiger and Lawrence knelt on either side of Ros and wrapped them both up, holding her inside their strength.
She begged for the peaceful grayness to take her, and this time it did. Right as the ambulance lights flashed over them all.
Rev hitched a ride to his church in a pickup full of migrant farm workers. Though they might have known more English than they were letting on, his state of mind didn’t need translation. After offering him a bottle of water, they left him with his thoughts, his ass planted on the heated metal of the rusted bed, his feet propped on a coil of rope.
When he’d thanked Lawrence, the man had murmured, “We’ll take care of her.”
The agony that went through Rev like lightning splitting a tree hadn’t needed any translation, either. Lawrence’s mouth had tightened, his eyes showing he understood what Rev felt.
Taking care of her is supposed to be my job.
But he had another job, too. Leaving Veracity’s side when she needed her man, her sub, the person who wanted so much to serve her in all ways, tore him to shreds. But it had to be done.
He found them at the church, as he’d expected. Witford was sitting on the step in front of the pulpit, Tisha in one of the pews. Simon and Tyson were there. The Bible talked about lost sheep, but wolves could be lost, too. Maybe sometimes they were even more lost.
Rev walked down the aisle, holding Witford’s gaze. His clothes were still damp from the creek. He hadn’t realized one of the workers had wrapped a blanket around him until he got out of the truck. Rev hoped he’d thanked the man for his kindness as he handed it back.
Though he didn’t look toward Simon and Tyson, he stayed aware of them. They were looking at Witford for a cue, to tell them what he wanted them to do.
He came to a halt a few paces from Witford, Tisha in the pew to Rev’s left. She had her head down, hands clasped, body rocking as she prayed silently.
“When we leave here, we going to the police station,” Rev said. “You all are going to tell them what you did, and accept the consequences.”
He sensed Tyson and Simon’s shift. Witford looked toward them. The knife in Rev’s gut twisted, because he knew what that look conveyed.
“Whatever lies you thought up to cover yourselves, they lies.” Rev spoke evenly. “God knows when you lying, and that’s who you answer to. Right? So you stand away from the lies. If God in you at all, then you should be under a terrible weight of fear and regret. You go to the police, tell them what you did, be honest and let a lawyer get you what fits with that, and you’ll stand right with the Lord again.”
“Rev—” Witford began.
“You won’t speak to me.”
He didn’t raise his voice, yet the sound echoed through the nave, up to the ceiling, and rattled the windows. Tisha jumped, and all four heads snapped toward the window nearest her. One of the panes had cracked, leaving a jagged line like lightning.
Rev ignored it, keeping his gaze on his cousin. “This between you and God. I’m here to make sure it’s done. If you push me for more, I will put your head through the fucking floor.”
He registered their shock, but it meant little to him. In his heart, all he saw was Veracity.
It flashed through his head again, that moment when the presence of Witford’s Lincoln at the mill had confirmed his cousin was involved. Him, Lawrence and Tiger coming up on the three men gathered around the lever for the wheel, working on it, Witford looking panicked and angry.
They hadn’t seen Veracity, but then Rev’s attention had gone to Tisha. Standing apart, her eyes fixed on the wheel itself, her face a mask of hatred and fear and triumph, a look he would never get out of his mind.
Rev had followed her gaze to the wheel and seen a nightmare. Vera’s bound wrists and curved fingers, the only thing above the water. He’d burst into a run and jumped into the well of water around the wheel. So cold. His Mistress was in that cold, dark water.
He pulled out his pocketknife and sawed through the ropes on her wrists, only to realize that wasn’t the only place she was bound. He took a breath and dove down. Lawrence had joined him. When he felt his way to her ankles, her hands were floating limply above him. He felt the brush of her fingertips, only there was no life to them. His heart had hammered like a blacksmith’s tool on cold steel. He’d sawed one ankle free, Lawrence the other.
Now, standing in the church that had been a haven for him most of his life, he thought about the damage to her face, the abrasions on her wrists, her torn clothing. Blood from a cut on her lip started bleeding again because her mouth had stretched out, trying to pull in air.
When her eyes had first opened, he’d seen the fear, because after something like that, it would take a moment for her to realize she was safe. It would take far more time for her to feel safe again.
They’d done that to her. His family.
Whatever Witford saw in Rev’s face was so close to the surface, it had him stepping back a pace.
Wrath. It was the right word.
I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.
It was real fucking tempting.
Instead, he spoke through stiff lips. “I love her, and the Lord gave her to me to love and protect. She was a gift to me. You…” Rev stopped, shook his head.
He pivoted and moved into the pew. He sat down next to Tisha, leaving enough room that he could turn on his hip, put his knee up on the wood. He braced his hand on the back of the pew in front of him and gazed at his aunt. She looked frozen and afraid, her eyes on the cross at the front of the church. Her hands were clasped hard before her.
Her face was closed in on itself. Strong women did that when they were hurting, when they were confused, afraid. Even angry. And when they’d messed up so bad, they’d dropped themselves into a dark hole. Everyone was afraid in an abyss, because they thought no one knew they were there, or didn’t care that they were. That they were forgotten, unseen, out of the Lord’s favor.
He thought of Veracity blindfolding him, putting him in darkness, but her scent, her touch, her very presence, was so strong. He’d known he wasn’t alone, no matter what, as long as she was near.
He had walked away from her, when it was the last thing he wanted to do. The damage from that decision could be irreparable.
No. The connection between them couldn’t be broken, even by something like this. He had to have faith in that, and do what needed to be done.
Tisha had broken out of her trance, and turned her head toward him. She had some strategy in mind, he could see it in her face. “Rev…Karman…”
He put his hand over hers. His grip was a little tight, because she winced. He eased it, which took a startling amount of effort. He wanted to squeeze until he ground bone, until she felt what he was feeling, all through his body.
“I can’t think of what you done. If I put it in my mind, in front of my eyes, I might burn this place down as an abomination in the sight of God.”
Her eyes widened, but he bowed his head. “Pray with me, Tisha. Pray the way you did when you was growing up with Teena Joy. When you couldn’t have thought you’d ever do something like this.”
“She was taking you away from us, Rev…”
“Hush,” he said mildly. “Do as I say. Really open your heart to what you done. Let God show it to you. Put down all the excuses and things you telling yourself to make it okay. All right?”
I’m lost, O Lord. She lost. We all lost… We need our Shepherd .
The words were in his head, then on his lips. He couldn’t sing it the way he normally did. His voice was broken and raw, but that was how it needed to be sung.
She’d bowed her head with him, but he felt her rigidity. She couldn’t find it right now. But it gave him a moment to take a breath, to find what he needed so he could make sure this went the way it needed to go.
Her free hand reached toward him.
“No.” His forbidding tone arrested the gesture. When he lifted his head, she’d closed it into an ineffectual ball that landed on her lap.
“I don’t belong to you, Tisha. I your family, but I don’t belong to you. My path is my own, and it lies with her. And here. The two things aren’t wrong together, or with God. When my Mistress smiles at me, I feel God's smile in that too. Sometimes a Goddess's. So I know Veracity Morgan is part of that path right now, and maybe for forever. I surely hope so.”
He reached for her throat, and she shrank back. Her fear hurt him, but he didn’t stop. Gently, he removed the gold necklace she wore, with its ruby pendant. Then came the earrings. Three rings, including the big diamond she’d bought last year, when the house Teena Joy had lived in, where Rev had grown up, had been sold.
He’d always known that Teena Joy left him the house. So deep in his grief over her loss, he hadn’t cared when they told him that her will said to sell the house and give the proceeds to the church. He was fine with them getting the money. He’d signed whatever documents they wanted.
At the time, he told himself Witford had seen how hard it was for him to be in the house without her, and had given him an out.
He shouldn’t have let the lie stand, even if the motive had been pure like that. Which it hadn’t been. All this time, he’d seen the warning signs, told himself they’d find their way back to truth, but he should have held them accountable sooner for turning their backs on that truth. If he had, maybe they wouldn’t have gone so far down this road.
When Veracity’s bruised face came back into his mind, her limp body against his in the water, he twisted around to set Tisha’s jewelry down on the pew seat. He took his time with it, arranging the necklace around the earrings and rings, until he was calm enough to face her again.
Then he pulled on memories, let them take over his mind, so that when he finally found the strength to give her a faint, sad smile, it startled and cut her at the same time. Tears spilled down her cheeks.
“There she is. The aunt who'd stop when she was cleaning the church with Teena Joy and listen to me sing. She'd sing with me, too, because I wanted her to. We all get lost. Teena Joy told me that, plenty of times. I’ve found my path, the one that works for me, and it may go different places, but I've chosen it, and I want it, and I feel the Lord's power in that choice. I feel His happiness and smile. I want you to feel His smile again, too. But the only way back to that is through some hard things. Through repentance. You have wronged her, and wronged God.”
Her mouth thinned, but his hand was on hers, tight again. ‘Never be so sure you're right that you fail to listen, care, connect and understand.’ Your sister taught me that. Maybe things be interfering with your hearing and seeing. If you accept the consequences for your actions, you the family I know, that I have loved all my life.”
He rose, and gazed at her, then at Witford and the other two men. “If you don’t, if you run from it, if you lie, I will speak truth, and it will go harder on you, and not just because the law will punish you for deception and violence. Your souls will get even sicker.”
Witford stared at the floor, fear and anger coming off of him. His mind wasn’t on what he’d done, but what he’d lost. Which meant his thoughts were turning to how he could change that, the devil pulling him his way. Maybe somewhere in there, the Witford that Rev had once known better was digging in his heels, trying not to go down that road, but the energy in the room said the battle was starting to turn in an ugly direction.
Rev could feel it, not just from Witford, but from Simon and Tyson. It was like an uneasy ocean current, the kind that caused seasickness. Back and forth, back and forth. Up, down. Up, down. They were ex-convicts who would face an even stiffer prison sentence for the violence they’d done today, and they were thinking about that.
Rev squared himself in the aisle. Whatever came was meant to come. When Witford lifted his gaze, Rev met it.
“What’s it gonna be, Witford? You can kill me to save your mortal life, but it’ll cost you your soul.”
“Witford,” Simon said, a hard note to his voice. Witford tore his gaze from Rev and looked toward him. “You know it’s got to be done.”
Tisha looked up. “No,” she said. “Rev…Rev is right. We’re lost. We need to?—”
“Shut up,” Simon told her. “It’s because of you that we did this shit.”
Rev looked at Simon’s hands. And then he thought of Veracity’s face.
Simon read his look and answered it. “You want a piece of me, you sanctimonious asshole? Mouthing off about God while your cousin handles all the work around here?”
Rev stepped toward him. A creak and thud stopped him, the sound of the nave doors opening and falling shut again. When he turned, he saw Lawrence, Mick and Tiger standing in front of them. As their intent gazes evaluated the situation, they spread out, shoulder to shoulder.
“You okay here, Rev?” Lawrence asked. “Thought you might need some backup.”
“The cops are on their way.” Tiger’s cold blue gaze, as predatory looking as his name, landed on Simon and Tyson. “You can try to make a break for it, but we’ll just drag you out into the parking lot and beat the shit out of you. Your chances are better with the cops.”
Witford had deflated at their appearance, and Tyson did the same. Simon held out the longest, but when Tiger shifted forward with a “give me an excuse” look, he muttered a curse and sat down on the transept steps.
“Fuck you,” he said. But he said it with his head down and shoulders hunched.
Rev drew a deep breath. That desire to take Simon up on his challenge was still there. He wanted to yank him up and make him fight. He wanted blood, tears and fear in threefold measure to what Veracity had endured.
Her faith believed that the harm they did would be visited on them threefold. But like his own faith, it didn’t say inflicting that punishment was the right or job of the one who most wanted to do it.
Deliberately, he moved his gaze to the cross and all it represented. He couldn’t feel it the way he wished right now, because everything was so locked down. Facing what his cousin and aunt had done, all of it, and what had happened to Veracity, what role Rev had and hadn’t played in that…it was all too much.
“Rev?”
He turned toward Tisha. Her voice was low and timid. “What will happen to the church?”
“I don’t know.” He didn’t know anything right now. Except that he didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be with Veracity.
He looked toward Lawrence. “After we take care of this, I need a ride to the hospital.”
“That’s the second reason we came,” Lawrence said. “Your Mistress needs you.”
It took the expected amount of time, which meant far too long. Rev had to go to the police station. The detective handling the case had interviewed Veracity at the hospital. He questioned Rev hard, the words like nails, because Rev was hammering the questions into himself. But he gave the detective whatever he needed, holding nothing back, so he could get to his Mistress.
He'd told Lawrence he’d take a bus to the hospital, because he was sure Ros was in need of her man, too. Instead the former SEAL waited patiently until he was done and drove him. Lawrence said little, but his presence offered an unexpected reassurance to Rev.
When they arrived and went to the floor where Veracity had a room, Cyn intercepted him in the waiting area. Her expression was neutral, her voice coolly cordial. Rev recognized a guard dog when he saw one.
“Ros is with her. They’re going to discharge her in the morning. She doesn’t want to see you right now.”
“All right. I’ll be out here if she changes her mind.”
Her expression stayed flat. “I don’t think she wants you here, period. Not right now.”
Rev inclined his head, acknowledging it, but then he turned to Lawrence. “Thanks for bringing me here, and sticking with me at the police.”
Then he moved to a chair that faced the hallway that held Veracity’s room and sat down. After exchanging a glance with Lawrence, Cyn pivoted and went back down the hall.
Lawrence gave him an approving nod. “Good call.”
“I messed up bad, Lawrence.”
“They messed up bad. You made it right. That’s what matters.”
“No. I mean…leaving her so I could handle Witford and Tisha. Because of her family…she not going to understand.”
“Yeah, she will.” Lawrence gave him a sober look. “Vera might be hurting, and you have to give her the room to feel that, but she’ll understand. You had to make sure that they couldn’t hurt her again. That’s part of taking care of her.”
Lawrence came close enough to grip his shoulder. “You’re the real deal, man. We all see it. It’s why Cyn didn’t tear you a new one. She might do it later, though. I’m going to touch base with Rosalinda, then I have to go to the rec center for a little while. I’ll be back soon, though.”
Left to his own thoughts, Rev stared down the hallway.
His mind wasn’t done punishing him. The images cycled through, again and again. Getting to the mill, not believing what he was seeing, not comprehending his family was responsible for hurting her like that. Then getting into the water, nothing else mattering but getting her out.
He gripped the chair arms. Tiger had gotten Simon and Tyson out of Rev’s path, advancing upon them with a wall of rage and physical intimidation. They’d bolted for the parking lot. Witford had hurried Tisha to his car while Tiger was occupied with the other two.
Rev thought of the cold dark of the water, his Mistress bound there. It had made his own soul cold and dark.
When she was free and he had her in his arms, his flood of relief vanished when he realized he couldn’t feel her breath on his neck. Her heart didn’t beat against his, no sign that her soul was within her.
Tiger lifted her out as the other two men hiked themselves out of the water. When Lawrence started CPR, Rev clasped both his hands around one of hers. Her long brown fingers, her palm a sweet light sand color, with a touch of pink. Two of her polished nails were broken.
Lawrence had had Ros wait in the car until they figured out what was going on, but now she was here, too, kneeling next to Lawrence as he administered CPR, her eyes fixed on Vera’s face.
Rev had put his other hand on Veracity’s chest, below where Lawrence was trying to get her heart to pump. He didn’t register when Lawrence realized there was nothing more to be done and Ros choked out a protest, a hard sob. Rev had put it all away, everything gone. It was just him with his head bowed, his heart, mind and soul praying, reaching out to his Mistress, looking for her in the void. He wouldn’t let his heart beat again until hers did. That was all there was to it.
He’d thought of the structure of a prayer, just as he’d described it to her.
Ask for what you need, trust that you will receive it. Please let her life be what is needed. Give her back her life. Don’t take her away from us. Not like this. Please God, she serves you as I do. She loves. She is full of love. Please…
He’d never consciously reached for that energy within him, that well of pure belief and faith. It just came and he followed its lead. But he’d grabbed hold of it, plunged into it, willing to drown in it like Vera had drowned in the water, just to bring her back. Please…please… Please…
When she jerked and started to cough, the power was a triumphant jolt of electricity through him. He immediately bent his head lower to praise its Source, even as he couldn’t let her go. Didn’t ever want to let her go.
Rev came back to the present. His hands were clasped hard in his lap, as if he still held her hand. He’d also somehow fallen asleep. It was a couple hours later, and things were quiet. Outside the windows, it was night, the lights of New Orleans bright. And Rosalinda Thomas sat across from him, watching him.
She’d changed into the most casual thing he’d seen her in, light blue jeans and a tunic top with silver thread at the neckline. Her boots had silver braid sewn around the ankle.
“You should go home,” Ros said.
He rubbed a hand over his face and straightened. “She needs to know I won’t leave, even if she tell me to. She needs to know I’m not like her family. I’m never going to abandon her just because we not seeing eye to eye on something. I not a Navy SEAL, or a cop, or a big scary fellow like Tiger. But I don’t need to be. My strength come from Love, and the love I feel for her… no one is going to make me abandon her. Not even her. Or you.”
He said the last with a respectful but firm nod. Her eyes stayed expressionless. “You made her feel abandoned.”
It hurt him to the core to hear it. Thinking Veracity had told Ros that, drove him to the edge of his control. He needed to go to her, be with her, and take that pain away. It was the one pain for sure he could ease, because it didn’t change the truth. As Lawrence had pointed out.
“No,” he said. “Her family done that, so when I had to make the decision I did, it took her back to it. That’s all. Which is also why I need to be here, to see her. To remind her that this ain’t that.”
He gave her a bitter smile. “I not any more likely to be driven away than your own man, or any of the men who belong to you all. She a very strong woman, but even a strong woman has limits. She needs me to help her find her strength. I know it, so I sit here until she ready to call that strength to her.”
Ros rose. Her expression changed, suddenly showing so much emotion he had to rise, too. “I’m so sorry, Miss Thomas. For all of it. If I could have been there sooner, if I could have known what they planned, I would have done anything to stop them from hurting her like this. God forgive me, I do mean anything. I’d have sold my soul and gone straight to hell to keep her from it.”
His faith had been shaken tonight. Not his faith in God, but his faith in those around him. Life could be unpredictable, but when the earthly ground you were sure of gave way beneath you, it was the toughest loss to take.
Ros stared at him. He’d reached out and gripped her hand, too moved by her distress not to make contact. Her fingers were cold. She stayed at arm’s length, but her eyes were damp. “All right,” she said. “Room 6A.”
Then she cleared her throat. “I’m going home for a little while.”
“Will Lawrence be there for you?” He was worried about the things he felt from her.
“He’s always there for me.”
She moved around him, headed for the elevators. After he watched the doors close on her, he reached for the phone Veracity wanted him to carry and carefully typed in a message.
Your Mistress headed home. She needs you.
Just pulled back into the parking lot. I’m her ride. But thanks for letting me know.
Rev put the phone away and walked down the hall, his shoes squeaking. Through open doorways, he saw patients sleeping or watching TV on low volume. A nurse making her rounds gave him a nod.
As Rev reached 6A, Cyn was coming out. The phone she held suggested Ros had sent her a text, letting her know Rev was on his way. Thinking of what Lawrence had said, he braced himself for the possibility of a more forceful tongue lashing, but once again Cyn merely gave him a short nod. “I’ll be in the lobby when you’re done,” she said.
“I’ll be here until they throw me out,” he told her. “So if you need to go home and get some sleep, I’ll be here when you come back.”
“I’ll see if she throws you out before I make that decision.” Cyn glanced over her shoulder, and Rev saw a rare look of tenderness on her resolute face. “I’ve never seen her this fragile. Go easy. Else I’ll break your legs.”
“Yes’m.”
She surprised him with a light pat on his arm, and left him.
When he stepped in the room and was able to look upon the woman he most wanted to see, Rev felt a wave of relief so strong he gripped the doorway to keep from staggering.
Veracity was asleep, but her expression was troubled, deep lines around her mouth and forehead. Her fists were clenched on the top of the covers. He knelt by the bed.
I dreem of kneeling…for her.
For you.
He murmured that, then put his hand next to her fist, and bowed his head to pray. It took a while, but he used what he knew of prayer and what she’d taught him, about those channels and the energy to fill them. He pulled it through him, offered it to her, his hand shifting to cover hers, to create a channel between them. When her fingers seemed looser, more relaxed, he reached across her body to grip the other hand, to keep that circuit closed.
Eventually, he felt an answering pressure, but he simply kept praying and channeling. Somewhere along the way, their breathing started to synchronize. He thought their hearts did, too. With every in and out, every beat, he gave her his will and love. Anything she needed. And he asked for her forgiveness.
Throughout the night, even when the nurse came in to check on her, he remained in that position, holding a vigil. No words spoken. Just a million thoughts and feelings passing through that connection, but one in particular, the same one he’d prayed for when they brought her out of the water. Only this time he was asking not for her life, but for the return of her trust and faith.
Come back to me.
Vera woke to see two things. One, Ros at the door with a flat of three coffees in hand, and Rev. His head was on the covers next to their clasped hands, his folded-over big body wedged in a small chair.
She wanted to touch his head, give him a Mistress’s approval for his care, but she felt numb.
When she slowly extricated herself, he woke. As he straightened and came to himself, his gaze moved to her face, taking in everything at a glance. The automatic smile on his face died.
“Got this from that coffee shop you hit sometimes on the way to work.” Ros put the cups down, one near Rev, and leaned in to kiss Vera’s forehead. When she drew back, her blue eyes were measuring. From the tightening of her mouth, Vera assumed the bruising was substantial. Everything on that side of her face felt swollen. “How are you doing?” her boss asked.
“Ready to get home.” Vera cleared a thick throat and discovered it also hurt like hell to speak.
She remembered the nurse checking her vitals. Rev had accommodated her when the woman needed to take his place at Vera’s side. He’d held up the wall until she was done, his eyes always on Vera. She recalled the deep rumble of his voice, responding to the nurse. She’d offered to bring him a cot. He’d declined.
“I good, ma’am. Thank you.”
Then he’d sat his big body back in that small chair, leaned over her, taken her hand, and started praying again. Sometimes he’d knelt on the floor. But he’d stayed close, no matter what.
“The nurse said I’d be discharged this morning,” she told Ros, trying to ignore the fact that talking made her eyes water. Her face really hurt.
Ros arched a brow. “I’ll drive you home once they take care of that.”
“That would be good.”
When Rev moved to put his hand over hers, Vera lifted it to pluck at the hospital gown, as if she hadn’t noticed him reaching for her.
She didn’t pretend like that. But she needed the defense mechanism. The spell that the night, the relief at not being dead, had spun, had no hold over her in the daylight. She had no armor. Someone torturing her, trying to kill her, denying her value, meant she was floundering in a cauldron of emotions she didn’t want to examine. She was going to break if anyone wanted anything from her.
Especially him.
“Vera,” Ros spoke softly. “Look at me, dear one.”
It was an effort, but she managed. She knew her gaze was pleading for something, she didn’t know what. Fortunately, Ros did. Reminding Vera why, when she needed a leader in her life, it was usually the woman in front of her who provided that.
“You’ve always been the one who helps us when we’re adrift,” her friend said, “and we’ve learned things from you. Enough to say what you need to hear now.
“Whatever you’re feeling is okay. You’ve been through a serious trauma. It’s going to take time and counseling to help you deal with it. But today, we only have one thing to do. Get you home. I’ll get you settled, and then I’ll work from there, in your home office. I won’t bother you, but if you need anything, I’ll be there. Tomorrow, if you want me to give you space, I will, but today, it’s best if someone is there with you. Not you.”
That last part wasn’t to her. Rev had begun to speak and, anticipating him, Ros had issued the short statement. Her expression toward him wasn’t unkind, but it was uncompromising. Pure Domme, pure CEO, pure Ros.
“Not today, Rev,” she repeated quietly. “Last night, how you felt about being here, it was right. But now, this is the right thing.”
“I understand.” His voice was tight, though, his expression the opposite of the words. He shifted his attention to Vera. “I’ll do whatever you need,” he said. “I know you not ready to talk about any of it, but I need to say one thing to you. What they…my family, did to you…it was awful. What they did to their souls by doing it… I had to go to them, had to make them see that.”
She’d flinched when he said “my family,” and he’d seen it. The pain in his gaze pierced her, and she didn’t want to feel that. “I do hear you, Rev. But I can’t handle hearing it. I’m not all right. Do you understand?”
“I do, Mistress.”
“ Don’t call me that.” The anger she felt startled her, and she shrank back, from herself as much as from him. “Please…I can’t…not right now.”
Rev rose and took a step back from the bed, even as Ros drew closer to the other side. He gazed down at the bill cap he was turning in circles, like he’d done outside her office that day. He wasn’t ashamed to meet her gaze, she knew. He was obeying her, trying not to put any pressure on her, add to her pain. If he looked at her, with all he was feeling in his eyes, that she heard in his voice, he knew he’d do the opposite of that.
Please go. Just please go.
“I understand. I don’t deserve to call you that. I didn’t serve you the way I should. And I’m part of the family who did this to you.”
He was connected to those who’d done this to her, but that was the only truth he’d spoken. But a mean, petty part of her wouldn’t contradict him on the rest. She closed her eyes, hoping when she opened them, he’d be gone. But instead, his arms slid around her. His wonderful, strong arms, that she could barely bear to touch her right now. Even so, he held her close to his chest. “I love you, Veracity. I love you.”
She nodded, a quick, reluctant thing. She was fighting not to push him away. It was barely a second before he let her go, stepped back again and turned to Ros.
“Please let me know if she needs anything…I can provide.”
She could tell leaving was terrible for him, not knowing if she’d ever want to see him again.
Not knowing the answer to that question herself was one more blow she couldn’t handle facing. Not right now.