Page 77 of Beloved Sacrifice

Chapter Thirteen

Weston’s brow creased in confusion. His response was the one Marek could understand. It was Rose’s bleak, practically blank stare that unnerved him.

She’d retreated deeply into that place she appeared to have built to protect herself. Marek didn’t want her distant and alone.

She needed to be here. With the boy she loved. And with him.

Marek reached out his hand to her. “Will you come to bed with us, Rose?”

Rose didn’t accept his outstretched hand. Instead, she walked out of the sitting room and into the bedroom. They followed her in time to watch her walk to the bed, climbing onto the tall mattress, kneeling with her head bowed.

Her pose was submissive. Her expression resigned.

Marek walked to the side of the bed, determined that somehow, someway, tonight would begin the healing. Weston and Rose had suffered enough in their lives. He wouldn’t allow that pain to continue. They were going to close the wounds and staunch the bleeding.

Marek looked back toward the door. Weston hadn’t moved. His eyes were locked on Rose, whose own gaze was steadfastly lowered.

Weston’s expression had morphed from confusion and guilt to one of horror and anguish.

“Are you coming, Wes?” Marek prodded.

Weston walked toward them slowly, hesitantly, like a man forced to stand before the firing squad. “Not with her like that. I won’t hurt her.” He swallowed. “Any more than I already have.”

Neither of these beautiful, wounded souls seemed capable of remembering what had drawn them to each other in the first place.

Love.

Love didn’t hurt, command, or control.

It soothed, gave, supported.

Marek would have to guide them back to that. Slowly. “We’re not going to hurt her. This won’t be about pain.”

He reached for his undershirt, tugging it over his head to bare his chest.

His actions captured Weston’s attention, but Rose’s training would be a harder thing to overcome as she held perfectly still, her eyes lowered.

“Rose,” he said softly. “Would you like to look at me? Touch me?” Marek was careful to ask, not demand. No one was going to be forced. Everything would be given freely or it wouldn’t happen.

Her dark eyes lifted to his. “I only know one way to…” Her words came out haltingly, as if it physically hurt her to speak them. “…to do this.”

“I won’t command you, Rose. Ever. Weston is in love with you and I’m…” He tried to find the right word to convey his feelings for her. “I’m in awe. You’re strong, intelligent, and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. I would like to lie in this bed with you and Wes. I would like to hold you and kiss you. But it has to be your decision. If you don’t want that, say no, and Weston and I will find another place to sleep tonight.”

“I would like to touch you,” she admitted, her words provoking a smile he didn’t even try to hide. Then she looked at Weston. “I’d like to touch both of you.”

Weston glanced at Marek’s bare chest and gave her a rueful grin. “I’m not going to fare well in comparison.”

Rose laughed huskily. The sound was warm and happy, and it clearly surprised her as much as him and Weston.

“It’s not a contest, Wes.” Marek saw the reticence in Weston’s eyes, so he stepped closer to the other man and began unbuttoning his shirt.

Weston made no attempt to stop him. Marek had never touched another man sexually, had never felt that pull.

Until now.

He had always assumed he would follow in his parents’ footsteps, marrying the one person who captured his heart. It appeared the relationships shared by his grandparents, the loving yet complex trinities, had made a deeper impression than he realized.

Weston allowed him to continue to strip off his shirt, letting Marek tug the soft cotton over his shoulders to toss it to the floor.

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