Page 54 of Crossed By the Stars
My breath was uneven, my bodyonfire in multiple ways from the kisses Dax had just given me as well as my injuries. My core was a liquid flame, my ribs were screaming at me, and my mouth was bruised in the most delightful way, but what hurt the most was Dax’s words. Thenot yet but soonthat they seemed to promise. Promises he’d never fulfilled.
If he kept them now, it would mean walking away from his family. It would mean he’d tumbled down to the levels of hell that I resided in. I couldn’t do that to him. I wouldn’t. The guilt would eat at me for the rest of my life.
So, I did what I was good at. I pushed him away, shoving his chest.
“Get out of my room, Armaud,” I growled, proud when my voice held neither the lust nor the tears I felt in equal amounts.
“Mon bijou, I?”
“Get out!”
If he said one more sweet thing, I’d crumble. My resolve would fly away. I’d let him back in permanently so I would have someone to lean on. To trust. To have as my own when I didn’t deserve it and couldn’t afford it.
Dax rolled off the bed, picked up the book he’d been reading, and set it on the side table.
“I’ll leave, but we aren’t done,” he said, eyes straying to my lips that still felt every single beautiful touch of his on mine. “Not by a long shot.”
Then, he sauntered out of the adjoining bedroom door. I wished I had the energy to get up, slam it shut, and lock it. But I didn’t. I barely had the energy to shut off the light and dig farther under the covers.
It took way too long to fall asleep, too much pain and too many memories curling through me. Memories that ended in whispers of hope that already hurt.
The first time I’d had sex, it had been on the sink in the boys’ bathroom, and it had been an utter disappointment. As the boy had pummeled into me, I’d been filled with the painful knowledge that I’d wanted it to be Dax. But he’d already disappeared from my life, abandoned me as much as my father ever had. After that failed experiment, I’d been determined not to be disappointed by sex again. I’d been determined that all my future experiences would be good for me. So, I’d sought older, more experienced men instead.
My chauffeur at the time had only been in his twenties, but he’d been muscled and gorgeous. It hadn’t taken much to persuade him that I knew what I wanted and what I was doing. His only surprise had been my demand that I got what I needed before he got off. My commands had turned him on more than my breasts.
My father catching us was the only thing that had ended our time together. I hadn’t loved the man, and I hadn’t mourned his loss, just like I hadn’t loved any of the men who’d come and gone in the few years that followed. It wasn’t until later?until I’d witnessed the way Dawson and Violet denied each other when they first met because she was sixteen and he was twenty-two?that I realized what I’d seen as sexual conquest was far from it. The men had been wolves, sleeping with a teenager who was acting out. Someone too young by the standards of the law. But they hadn’t cared. They’d seen something available and come for it without questioning why it was being offered—or if it was poisoned.
After that, I’d become much more careful of who I let in my bed. I still enjoyed sex. I still craved the release and the moments of forgetfulness that came with concentrating solely on two bodies searching for a climax. I wasn’t ashamed of it, but I also knew that sometimes…sometimes I used it as a way to momentarily regain control of my life.
The act itself was about a physical need and a physical release and nothing more. I never offered more of me to the men who came and went. I kept my heart shielded behind a thick vine full of thorns that stabbed at anyone who tried to get beyond it.
The beautiful kisses Dax had just given me were full of more emotion and soul than any kiss I’d ever had. It brought tears to my eyes that I let out because there was no one there to see them. As they strolled down my face, I reminded myself of the harsh truth. I couldn’t have him. I couldn’t without hating myself for bringing him down to my level.
I eventually dozed off into a fitful sleep that was haunted by my memories and Dax’s lips. My ribs slammed with sharp knives as I rolled, causing me to wake only a few hours later. I lay there for a few minutes, but there was no way I was going back to sleep with the pain coursing through me and my brain repeating every single thing that had happened since I’d received the first threat.
I threw the covers back and slid out of bed. My bare feet hit the soft Persian rug, and my toes curled into the softness reflexively, like curling into sand. I wanted that. A walk on the beach in the quiet of the night. But I had a feeling Dax and his security team would have a heart attack if they found I’d left the house on my own in the wee hours.
So, I made do with exploring the house.
Terrence was on duty, eyes following me down the stairs and speaking into his mic. As long as they didn’t wake Dax, I’d be fine.
“Is there something I can do for you?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Can’t sleep. Just going to wander the house a bit.”
He nodded, and I went in the nearest door. I was surprised someone hadn’t shut every blind and curtain in the place, but instead, the moonlight streamed in the windows, turning the drawing room into a Gothic novel with dark shapes and shadows. On the far wall, another set of doors connected the room to another parlor, and after that, more doors led to a library. I flicked on a lamp, causing the cool tones of the night to disappear in a warm glow, just like Dax had taken my cold skin and brought it back to life with a kiss and a touch. A touch I ached to repeat.
We’re not done. Not by a long shot.
His words echoed through my head. It had been a mistake coming with him. A selfish mistake I could only regret. There was no reason for him to be with me and a gazillion reasons for him not to be.
I browsed the shelves and the rows of books. Some were new, some were old, but they were all stories with a romance thread running through them if not actual romance. Vanya’s taste made my lips curl upward. I’d never known he was such a romantic. He was a hulk of a rugby player, all muscle and brawn, but he had a showy, artistic side that was evident in all his homes I’d ever been in. This little seaside cottage full of romance showed yet another side.
Before Dax had left my life the first time, I’d loved romance novels. Everyone always got their happily ever after. It wasn’t until later that I realized how rare it was. True love. Happiness. No one in my family had it.
Dax had said his aunt had been in love with my father. I couldn’t imagineOtosanhad ever felt the same way, and yet, he must have felt enough that they’d remained in a relationship for several years. Or maybeÉlodie had been the only one wildly in love and unable to let go?
More of Dax’s words haunted me.The line between wild love and obsession is a very fine one. Sometimes you find yourself on one side and sometimes on the other.
