Chapter Twenty-Six
Violet’s feet met the floor as Drake set her down in his chamber, her body sliding along the hard line of his before he let go.
The chamber was dark, and he crossed to the table to light a match.
Moments later, candlelight wavered across the walls, tracing Drake’s broad shoulders as he turned back toward her.
The air still carried the damp chill of the night, steeped with the familiar scent of him, an essence of him she had never known how to name, but now recognized as home.
The last time she had stood in this room, she had not left happy. The memory brushed her, unbidden and unwelcome, but it did not take hold. Too much had changed since then.
She had changed.
She remained where he had left her, fingers curled loosely at her sides, her skirts heavy with rain and grime, her hair clinging to her neck.
Her body still quivered with the effects of the night; her legs trembled faintly, though she would not have said it was from fear but rather relief.
Reginald and Percival would never be a worry in her life again.
And she had the man before her to thank for that.
Her gaze flicked to the bandage at his temple, which stood out starkly against his dark hair, and the sight of it tugged at her heart.
And to think you were planning to leave, Vi.
She took a breath. Then another.
That might have become the biggest regret of her life. And she supposed she had Percival to thank for helping her avoid that. His cruel actions had opened her mind to so many things.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
“Violet.” He crossed back to her, capturing her hands in his and lowering onto one knee. “Would you be my lover? My wife? My partner?”
She blinked down at the man’s blunt question. Blazes, how could she answer if he stole her breath in such a straightforward fashion? “That’s . . .”
He smiled. “Too forward?”
“A bit.”
“To be frank, I still don’t believe you belong in my world.”
Her heart seized. “You don’t?” Then why was he asking her to be with him?
“No.” He shook his head. “It’s too damn dangerous and you’re too damn good for the darkness, but I also believe you belong with me. So I find myself in a hopeless position.”
“Do you know what I think?” Violet asked. “I think I came to Brighton for you. I think when we follow our hearts, when we choose not to hide, not to run, that’s when we truly start to live our lives.”
“I love you.”
Violet forgot how to breathe again. She might have imagined those words a thousand ways but never offered so plainly. So surely. As though he was merely stating a fact of the world. Her throat tightened. She did not trust her voice. Instead, she reached for him, her fingers slipping into his hair.
“I think I love you, too.”
His eyes darkened. “You think?”
“I know.” She grinned. “I think.”
“Flaming wench.” Drake surged to his feet and scooped her up without ceremony, one arm beneath her knees, the other braced firmly at her back. Violet let out a startled laugh, clutching at his shoulder as he carried her across the room.
“We need to get you out of these soaked clothes before you fall ill,” he said hoarsely, already lowering her onto the edge of the bed.
“You’re all wet as well.”
He took the dagger from her hand, turning it over in his. “Where did you get this?”
Violet blinked, surprised by the sudden seriousness in his voice. “Your brother Dagger gave it to me.” She snorted. “After I asked for a real one.”
“He must really like you.”
Her lips parted. “Is that unusual?”
“He doesn’t let anyone touch his daggers,” Drake said quietly. “Not even us.”
Something warm settled in her chest at that.
Drake set the dagger carefully on the table beside them, looked back at her, something fierce glowing in his eyes.
Their clothes, after that, were shed piece by piece.
Violet’s attention caught not on the act itself, but on him, on the breadth of his chest as his shirt was pulled free, the faint bruising beneath his skin, the bandage still wrapped around his abdomen.
There was nothing carnal about the moment, only two people who had survived the night and were finally allowing themselves to rest and simply be.
When nothing remained between her skin and his, Drake pulled back the covers and drew her down with him, settling her against his chest, his arm coming around her.
Violet sighed as the heat of him seeped into her, her cheek resting over his heart, the steady beat beneath her ear easing the last of her cold.
“May I ask you something?” he asked softly.
“Of course.”
His fingers traced slow, absent patterns along her back. “What did your brother do,” he asked quietly, “to make you run?” He paused. “I know he’s a shite. But did he hurt you?”
The question settled heavily between them.
Violet shut her eyes.
No one had ever asked her that before. Not even her friends. Holly and Pippa knew some things, enough to help her leave, but not everything. “Not the way you might be thinking.”
“I’m not thinking about any way, love. There are a thousand ways to hurt people without lifting a finger.”
“You must have understood the gist of it in the dungeon,” she finally admitted.
“I was always watched. Every word weighed. Every step judged. If I laughed too loudly, if I spoke too freely, if I wanted something for myself . . .” Her throat tightened.
“There were consequences. This one time he reduced my meals to thin broth for refusing a gown he had chosen. Another time, he confined me to my bedchamber for a fortnight for questioning his judgment.”
Drake did not interrupt. His arm only tightened, a silent promise that he was there, that she would not be hurt again.
“The worst was when he told me the punishment would end only once I understood I deserved it or when he made me beg for forgiveness on my knees. He made me kneel for a whole day once. I learned early that resistance only made him more ruthless. He even accused me of killing my mother in childbirth, and my father, who perished of heartache shortly after.”
His chest rose sharply beneath her cheek.
“Then he betrothed me to Percival and ordered the servants to deny my existence until I questioned my own.” She swallowed. “Until one day I realized I was vanishing.”
Drake muttered something vicious under his breath.
She lifted her head slightly, enough to see his jaw clenched, his eyes burning in the low light. “I just wanted to escape, start a new life on my terms.”
“I’m going to snap his legs in half.”
She gave a faint, wry breath that might have been a laugh. “You already did enough.”
His mouth curved grimly, but his eyes never left her face.
“I’ve spent my whole life being told what I ought to endure,” Violet said, the words coming easier now. “What I owed. What I deserved.” She rested her palm flat on his chest. “Tonight, I am finally set free.”
Drake pressed his lips to her brow. “I may not be a good man, Violet, but while I draw breath, no one will ever hurt you again.”
She believed him.
Violet nestled closer, fitting herself to him without hesitation. If this was an underworld, then she had not been dragged here, she had stepped into it with her eyes open.
Drake’s darkness did not consume her. His darkness sheltered her.
“What about you?” she asked softly. “What made you change your mind?”
*
Fury boiled in Drake’s veins. It surged hot and violent, demanding blood and retribution, but he held it leashed, keeping his breathing under control so as to not alarm his little flame, mind already racing with all the ways he would return the favor to that damn dog in their dungeon.
How could any brother do such things to his sister?
Unfortunately, cruelty, he understood. He’d experienced firsthand what family members were capable of.
However, this was something altogether different.
His little flame lay against him, warm and trusting, unaware of how narrowly the world had escaped being torn apart for what had been done to her. He inhaled deeply, lowering his chin briefly to the crown of her head, drawing all his attention to the question she asked.
What made him change his mind? Well, that was simple. “You did, love.”
She shifted, lifting her head to look at him. “Me? How?”
He held her gaze, his thumb brushing absently along her arm, back and forth, searching for words but finding none adequate enough. “I don’t know if I can explain it,” he admitted. “After my mother’s death, I swore I would never touch anything I might ruin.”
Her fingers stilled against him.
“My father . . .” His jaw tightened, a muscle ticking as his gaze drifted past her for a brief second before forcing itself back. “He was a cruel, calculating man.”
“You feared you’d become like him?” she asked gently.
Drake shook his head. He had never feared becoming his father. But that did not mean he could not destroy the same way.
“No. I feared I would leave the same wreckage behind, even unintentionally.” His voice roughened, drawing comfort from her closeness. Her skin against his. “I didn’t want to hurt any woman the way he hurt my mother.” After a moment, he admitted, “She hanged herself in her bedchamber. I found her.”
He hadn’t said these words aloud in years. His brothers knew not to ask, and other than them, there was no one else to tell things to. Except now, he had his flame, and there was nothing that couldn’t be said between them anymore. He wanted to bare it all.
“I’m so sorry,” Violet whispered, her fingers curling slightly against him.
He drew her closer, rubbing slow circles along her back. “My cousin, the Earl of Dare, was the only family who didn’t deny my existence outright. And only after he knew I existed. I lived in the gutters of London most of my childhood, stealing food to feed us, fighting for a bit of coin.”
“That must have been hard, Drake.”
He inwardly shrugged. “It was life.”
“There are also your brothers,” she said, her voice soft. “They’re fiercely loyal.”