Page 46 of Vicious Hearts

She spits her words at me angrily. I think she’s angrier that I’ve destroyed something beautiful before it even started than she is that I’m not who she thought I was.

I push off the door and take a slow step forward, my eyes tracking her like a lion would their prey. She counters the movement and takes a subtle step back, lifting her chin in defiance. I take another step. Her eyes are dilated. She may push against everything I am, everything that society tells her is wrong with the world, but she’s as affected by me as I am by her. Her eyes can’t hide that.

I advance slowly towards her, step by step, until she has taken her last step backward and reversed into the wall. A flicker of fear enters her eyes, dancing alongside her excitement. Our faces are mere inches apart. The only noise in the room is that of our heavy breathing.

“I told you I’d let you go home,” I remind her. “But this,” I wave a hand in the space between us, “is far from over.”

We’re so close that I can smell her scent, the heady notes of orange blossom and patchouli assailing my nostrils. She smells sexy and spicy and captivating. She’s wearing a low-cut button up burgundy blouse that shows just the right amount of skin, and my eyes can’t help but strain in that direction. I’m so busy staring at her that she takes me by surprise when she lifts her hands and plants them into my chest, pushing me back with a heavy shove. My foot moves just an inch, her small form no match for my bulky frame. I move my feet back until I’m breathing in her space again. No one could accuse me of not admiring a challenge.

She looks like she could stab me in the eye if she had the means when I invade her personal space again. I lift a hand to her face and pinch her cheeks together, coming closer like I’m moving in to whisper something to her. And I do. I keep my eyes on her and move my lips toward her ear. Desire floods my body; I want her to know how much I want her.

“You and I will never be over, little girl,” I whisper.

Then I move my lips towards hers and I take her. I devour her mouth, my tongue diving into her wonderland, remembering that first kiss we had in the lagoon that made her mine. And every kiss that came after that outdid the one before. And this kiss right here and right now, after the strain of being apart, it outdid all the others.

Her mouth is lavish, its decadent walls surrounding my tongue, until I feel a little flick and her tongue moves with mine trying to find purchase. She’s not immune to me. And if she’s honest with herself, she’d admit that we belong together.

43

ARIADNE

It takes everything in me to break away from him. But when I do, he steps back, his hooded eyes coveting me. Caleph will not take against a woman’s will. He doesn’t need to; doesn’t have to. No. He’ll bide his time until he breaks me. He’ll shatter me. Undo me. Until I am crawling to him begging for him to put his hands on me. That’s the sort of man he is. And now that he’s seen I’m still just as much entwined with him as he is with me, I’m afraid there’ll be no holding back for him. He’s going to launch a grand scale assault against me. One which I’m not sure I’ll be able to recover from.

He stumbles away from me and walks to the door. With one hand on the knob, he pauses and looks back at me. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes say it all. They tell me that I’m his. That I always will be. He made me his possession that day at the lagoon, when we forgot that a whole other world existed outside of us. They tell me that I could run back to Seattle, but he’ll be right on my heels. Even though he’s no longer based there. He’s everywhere. And he’ll be everywhere I am.

Suddenly I realize why this man lives in the dark. It’s because heisthe dark. He is the intensity of the night, everything that’s tragic and haunting and dangerous. He lives in the dark shadows that know only fear and torment. And now he lives eternally in the dark recesses of my mind, threatening to unleash his madness on me.

* * *

“Mine. Mine. Mine.”

I feel the meaning of his words pressing down on me like a crushing weight, smothering and suffocating. Fear creeps into my heart, a burning realization settling deep in my soul. A chilling warning echoes through the darkness, sending shivers down my spine and causing every nerve to prickle with unease.

He leads me forward in the dark, cavernous tunnel, our footsteps bouncing off the walls. The air is thick with steam, making it difficult to see or breathe. There is no end in sight, but a faint light gleams ahead like a distant lighthouse beckoning us forth. But instead of offering safety, I know it will only bring more uncertainty and danger as we walk into the unknown beyond. And with each step closer, the sense of being trapped by this mysterious man only grows stronger.

I wake with a start, my eyes adjusting to the dark. My body is drenched in sweat. A dream, just a dream. No, a nightmare. Caleph’s voice telling me I’m his. Then I’m walking in the dark, but it’s not with him. I don’t know who it is. A man, but I can’t see his face.

I shake the sleep away and reach over to the bedside table, snapping the lamp on and grabbing the water bottle. I down the liquid, then put my face in my hand, trying to scrub away the image of the nightmare from my mind.

It’s been nothing but nightmares since I was taken. Even though my captor didn’t hurt me, the physical trauma of not knowing what was happening, of expecting him to hand me over to the politicians whose lives I ruined, was enough to cloud my sense of safety. The night sweats come hard and fast, and I struggle every night to hold onto the last scrap of self-control I can muster until daylight emerges.

I’ve gone from not being wanted to literally being wanted by too many people. I don’t know how I feel about that. Rand discarded me like yesterday’s news. My parents never gave a shit. Caleph kidnapped me – twice. And I don’t delude myself into thinking he’s going to let me go so easily. The Mexicans want me. The Honduran wanted me. The pollies wanted me. Hell, even old Hinky who was on the verge of firing me now wants me!

A feeling of ominous foreboding sweeps over me. I know that any day now, we’ll get news of the Hondurans and the pollies going head-to-head. From the whispers I’ve heard around the house, every indication is that Attila and Caleph will be involved in the operation to some extent. My heart stutters, a feeling of immense suffocation sweeping through me as I consider that either of them could get hurt. Trying to protect me. Trying to make my world safe for me. They need to do this for me to be safe when I go home.

Guilt overwhelms me, threatening to cut me down. If anything happens to them, because of me, I will never forgive myself. I could probably leave and live without Caleph, knowing he’s still safe and well. But I couldn’t go on if something happened and I lost him forever. I couldn’t.

My heart beats erratically as I consider all the things that could go wrong during this operation. Or even after. I could leave him and try to go on with my life, but what would become of my heart? What if I were on the other side of the world and I one day received news of Caleph’s demise? How could I live with that? How could I possibly go on knowing that he was no longer a part of my world? No longer breathing the air that I breathed?

The fear claims me. It wraps itself around me like a cocoon and squeezes the life out of me. How could everything I’d forecast for my future be the exact opposite of what is happening? How could I possibly have ever thought that Rand had a place in my life – a prominent place – and that we would one day get married and have a family? What sort of a life would that have been?

Now I see only Caleph in my future. It’s a distorted view. There are a lot of ifs and buts and hows, but Rand is inconsequential when I turn to look down the road of the coming years. He may have been in my life for two years, and I may have thought I knew him well, but two years didn’t give me an ounce of what I feel when I’m with Caleph.

44

ATTILA

“It’s showtime,” I hiss into the air, baring my teeth like a feral dog going in for the kill.

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