Chapter 9
DELILAH
Ican hardly breathe. The moment Blade left to pull on some clothes, a memory hit me like a runaway freight train.
It was a kind of flashback, if you like. A memory from deep inside my mind. One I’d rather hadn’t returned. The one that broke me.
“What’s up, darlin’?”
Blade sounds concerned. I notice the surprise on his face, and my heart drops like a stone.
“The name I mentioned when I told you about Jenna’s argument with Angela.”
“Gideon?”
He fixes me with a dark glare, and I shiver inside.
“His name is Gideon Fox.”
I drag in some oxygen because even the name chokes me.
“Who is he?”
Blade appears concerned, but I don’t miss the threat in his question, and for some reason, it curls around my heart like a warm hug.
His question is a hard one to answer, though.
My pulse spikes and my breathing is ragged, choking me; bitterness is a taste I never did enjoy.
The memory is crushing me, reminding me of who I am, what I am, and I wonder if it will change the way Blade looks at me.
The way I look at me when I stare at myself in a mirror, expecting to see that man’s reflection behind me, his hands wrapped around my throat, his eyes burning a deadly promise into mine as he holds my life in his cruel hands.
It takes several deep breaths to form the words, and I prepare myself for concern to change to disappointment in Blade’s eyes.
“He’s–”
I swallow hard, my legs trembling, the coffee mug clattering to the table as I attempt to steady my hands.
The tension is so thick, I could almost lean against it for support, and I attempt to form the words because once I voice them, everything will change.
Blade reaches for my shaking hand, and his tone is soothing, reassuring even.
“It’s okay, darlin’, nothing can hurt you now.”
“I wish that were true, Blade.”
It feels good knowing he is here, a protector of sorts, one who I doubt could protect me from him, but he’s all I’ve got right now. I breathe slowly, attempting to focus my mind, and as I raise my eyes to Blade’s, I whisper, “He’s my husband.”
A sharp hiss is my answer, and yet his fingers close around mine almost as a reflex. It’s as if he is holding me as I fall, and as my lip trembles, the tears flow thick and fast.
“I’m sorry.”
For once he doesn’t pull me up on my apology, and his tone is ominous as he growls deeply, “What can you remember?”
I use the fingers of my free hand to brush the tears from my face and breathe deeply, my voice shaking as I whisper, “It was while I stood at the countertop gazing out of the window. A memory hit me of Gideon standing behind me. His hands were wrapped around my throat, and he was applying pressure. His voice was hard and cruel as he whispered in my ear that I was his wife now and that he owned me. Controlled me, and I would never stop paying him back.”
I daren’t even look at Blade; I am so ashamed. Gideon Fox was—is—my husband, and that is all I know.
“Can you remember anything else, darlin?”
For some reason, Blade is being gentle with me, and I appreciate that more than he will ever know. It goes a long way because I doubt anyone has ever been gentle with me—at least for some time now, and it unravels me more than any cruel word or bolt of physical pain.
I want him to wrap those strong arms around me and keep the entire world out, but I would never ask that of him. He doesn’t deserve my blend of chaotic madness because he is merely being a good guy and babysitting a hot mess.
“Not really.”
I sigh, wishing like crazy my mind would cooperate.
“Just that image of him, his cruel words, and the sensation of falling as he restricted my air. The threat, the sense of hopelessness, and the realization that I was no longer free.”
“It’s okay, we have a name and we have something to go on. I’ll feed the information back to the Reapers and they will do what they do best. Unravel the mystery.”
“He’s dangerous, Blade. Don’t ask me how I know that as fact; I just do. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you or your friends. It’s not worth it.”
His eyes flash and he tightens his hold on my fingers, an angry pulse flicking in his jaw, murderous intent in his eyes as they burn with rage.
“You are worth it, Delilah, and don’t ever fucking attempt to tell me otherwise. You have a name, and that is good enough for me. We will track this bastard down and make him pay, and that, my angel, is a deadly promise.”
It’s a relief, I’m not gonna lie, because offloading one of my demons onto stronger shoulders eases a burden I didn’t realize I was carrying.
Gideon Fox. A cruel man, for sure, and I almost hope that is the only memory that returns because I have a feeling the rest are so traumatic, my mind has locked them away to preserve my sanity.
I’m not certain where we go from here, and Blade exhales sharply, “Come, we need some air.”
I’m grateful for his suggestion, and as I follow him to the door of the cabin, I appreciate the view from behind. He certainly is a magnificent man. One I would hate to be up against. He is a small army in one man, and I breathe a little easier knowing he is by my side.
He surprises me by reaching for my hand as he heads down the steps from the cabin, and points to the treeline ahead of us.
“We won’t go far; we don’t have the footwear, but there’s something I want you to see.”
He’s not wrong about that, and I glance down at the sneakers I found in the cupboard in the bedroom. They are a little too big for my feet, but the shoes I was wearing when they took me to the hospital were even more impractical.
Huge red heels that crippled me when I walked, that Angela insisted I wear along with the ceremonial robe she used like a sick kind of uniform.
We head down a small trail, and it’s kind of liberating.
I remembered something.
It may not be a welcome memory, but it tells me I have some deep in my mind and gives me hope the rest will return, revealing my identity, history, and who the fuck I am.