Chapter 11 The Artist Concedes Defeat
The Artist Concedes Defeat
RAFE
It’s fortunate that I’m facing the garden.
My scoff was too obvious to allow him to see it.
He can’t handle anymore. I think it would surprise him to find out what he could handle if he had to.
What I handled so he could have that time with my mate, difficult or not.
It’s hard not to be bitter about his self-indulgence, when I’m certain he just does not understand our sacrifices.
He growls. “You’re not the only one who’s been through hell here. I didn’t lose mates, and I wasn’t betrayed like you. But I get tortured, too. No one, not even the minx, expects me to do anything but take it because I’m made of such stern stuff.”
Torture? I don’t think so; I know what torture is, and having to be strong isn’t that.
I sound like a prat playing ‘mine is bigger than yours’ in my head, but his claim is laughable. He wouldn’t say it if he had a clue what we’ve been through. But he doesn’t, so I’ll let him have his feelings. I look at him, giving him the space to vent that perhaps he needs.
“Everything I touch—everything—leaves scars on me that rival those on your back. No one sees them, though. I keep them hidden in silk and swagger.”
My eyes narrow. “Do you think I’m not tired of everything being so hard that it rips my heart out? I’ve lost four mates and maybe a fifth if you count—but that doesn’t matter because I have always been able to take it. I don’t ask anyone to take anything for me, but me.”
Walking back in the room and toward the side of the bed, I glare.
“I know about hidden scars. The ones on my back aren’t common knowledge—only those who are close to me know where they came from.
There are so many more you can’t see. I could go on for hours about the whole ‘everything I touch goes ass over end’ thing. ”
“We’re both fucked if we do and fucked if we don’t—that’s the long and the short of it?”
I snort. “Long, short, and sideways.”
Tossing his drink back, he surges off the bed and goes to the bar, slamming the glass down. He pours another, deeper than the last, and I feel the waves of pain radiating from him.
I feel for him, but I also know that his strain is not comparable, no matter what he thinks.
Besides, I’m feeling mighty resentful that she had to force him to speak to me.I pick up my empty glass to refill it. “What do you want? What did my wife say to push you to come up here?”
“The goddess is not very subtle in her messages.” He takes a slug of the scotch and walks over to the bed, but stays standing. The agitation is coming off him in waves, and he growls, “This was one of those times.”
“And?” I lean back against the bar, trying to look casual as I watch him pace.
He reaches the balcony and steps out into the night, looking at the scenery as I did.
“She said you aren’t like the others. You’re not out for a conquest. She told me I could trust that you want me for me.
” His voice drops, and he shrugs. “Only two other people have ever only wanted me for me—Talia and my minx.”
My brows furrow and I listen, surprised to be seeing this much vulnerability from someone who admits that he doesn’t think he can ever love me.
Why is he showing me so much of his underbelly?
“Talia said that if I loved her and my minx for that reason alone—which isn’t all of it by any stretch—and there was someone else that wanted me for me, it would make sense if I loved them.
It wouldn’t matter who they were, convention-wise.
She thinks I’m too blinded by my pain and hatred of what they have done to me to see that I already love you. That’s what she bloody told me.”
I’m speechless, and words aren’t even forming in my head, much less in my mouth.
I take a deep breath and clear out the shock.
“She’s right about the conquest part. I could give a fig about bedpost notches.
I could have them; I don’t want them. I choose people for who they are, and I don’t even choose people that often. ”
He gives me a sardonic grin, his eyes dark in the moonlight. “Aren’t you sodding glad you asked?” With that, he turns his back on me, stepping towards the balcony again.
“Actually, I am,” I breathe. I amble, approaching to lay a hand on his shoulder. “I think we’re both more scared than we like to admit and not trusting as much as we should.”
“It’s a common ailment with me and mine if you hadn’t noticed.”
“I didn't know it extended to you as much as it does.” I move closer again, standing about a hair’s breadth from touching him. “Maybe it’s time to let the defenses down?”
This is probably a fucking horrible plan, but I’m so tired and raw inside.
“You just agreed that we’re fucked either way. You said it didn’t matter because you’ve already chosen to be with only her. What the fuck am I supposed to believe?”
I don’t have a snappy retort for that, but he is the one who had to get sent up here to talk to me.
Swallowing hard, I wait for him to continue. That’s all I can do.
“You’re off your bird if you think the only reason that I came up here was because the goddess got a cord up her ass about making things right for her family.
The bottom line is that if I didn’t want you in my life or my bed, she could have shouted until the sky fell in and I’d be down with my wife and child. ”
I blink again, finding his constant flow of candor hard to keep up with.
Is this what he does to the cat? Jesus, no wonder she emotes like an open faucet now.
“Hearing you give up fucked me up a little, and not in a good way.”
Feeling guilty, I look away and whisper, “I thought maybe you came because she... I assumed you couldn’t give what I could, and I could accept that.
When you said that we might have to stop, it hit me that if I got started, got used to having you, that it would tear me apart inside to do it.
Make no mistake, I’d do it, but it would tear me up inside.
That’s where I was coming from when I said that. I was putting up the walls.”
“I don’t know, mate. Is it too hard? Maybe we shouldn’t. We’re all so damaged: you, me, the minx, and my goddess. It’s a wonder we found each other at all.”
He has to make a decision and stick with it; I’ll try one more time, and if that back fires, I’m out of here.
“Is it worth having if you don’t have to work? Does it mean as much? Maybe we’re already deep enough in that—”
Taurus looks over his shoulder, spearing me with his eyes. “For the record, she said that I already loved you, but I’m too wounded to accept it. I’m not her; I should set that straight now.”
I try not to wince at his blunt statement. “I didn’t say that you did, or that you were like anyone else. I felt that ‘Rhea and her mate’ comparison in your head.”
“Though I’ve not known her to be incorrect about something like this in the past.” He looks shocked that I sensed his internal snark, but doesn’t derivate from his train of thought.
I stalk back to the bar and throw back the rest of my drink, then pour another. This is going in circles and I will have to leave at some point before he truly breaks me. I just haven’t hit the line yet, and I don’t even know where it is.
“I can’t say from me to you I feel that way because it’s numb where the love is, if it’s there.”
Plopping onto the bed, I take another gulp and shrug. “I didn’t say that you had to say anything.”
“I bloody well know you didn’t! I know you don’t think I’m like them or you wouldn’t let me anywhere near you. I’m not stupid.”
Pushing my hair off my face, I feel the weight of the liquor hit me.
Honestly, despite the bottle I crawled into for a couple weeks while I worked through the exes, I’m a lightweight.
It makes the rest of the family snicker, but I am.
I’ve drunk more than I should, and I don’t foresee it stopping soon.
I've gotta be more cautious. “I’m touchy about that.”
“Much like I don’t want to be a shadow of the former, I suppose.”
“You’re nothing of the kind.” I look him in the eye for a moment, but I lose my nerve.
He turns to me and says, “You know what killed me about Blondie?”
“The list is too long to guess, mate.”
“It was all a fucking lie. Not a word out of her mouth was true, even when it wouldn’t have hurt anything to be honest.” Shaking his head, he mutters, “It disgusts me to a level that you cannot understand that I started her on that path. I revved her up for clones, and when I pulled back, she latched onto the writer and on it went.”
No idea why this is suddenly about exes, but whatever.
I shrug. “Ain’t that the fucking truth. She played people like an orchestra to see us all dance to her tune.” Blinking, I feel a giggle rising, and as it’s not the time, nor do I want him to know that I’m a wee bit sloshed, I swallow it.
“She did something to me that wrecked me in a way that was worse than what Wilde did to Talia.”
I sigh and nod, rubbing my chest. “They did that to people. The exes and Wilde wrecked me in ways you can’t imagine. When I met Blade, I wasn’t sure I could be unbroken.”
Stopping his rant, he turns to the bed and looks at me. “I want—I want to help Talia heal you.” His expression changes, and he looks flustered, walking back to the bar.
Danger, danger… I don’t know if I should trust this.
Feeling very vulnerable and more than a little terrified, I whisper, “You do?”
He shrugs and mutters, “When you connected to me downstairs, after the minx read us the riot act, I felt so much pain in you. My first thought was that I wanted to help you heal.” Clearing his throat, he turns and strides over to the window.
“And I really want to hurt Amanda. That bint’s been on my last nerve since that nonsense about bringing death, and her actions of late tell me she’s knee-deep in the shit that the bulldog and the gnome are planning against my minx. ”