Page 65 of Thorns of Blood
The thunder rumbling outside the window reminded me of a different night, a different time.
I was still a teenager when I got pregnant, the result of my husband’s rape. But the baby had been mine, growing under my heart.
Until they took that away too.
From that night forward, I never trusted another human being again. And it shook me to my core to feel my defenses lowering for this man standing in front of me.
My husband.
TWENTY-FOUR
GIOVANNI
One step forward, two steps back.
That was how this journey with Lia felt. And I wasn’t talking about the voyage of sailing the seas or my business with Asher that went smoothly.
After I came back to the boat after completing the delivery, I found Lia asleep on the couch in my office plagued by another nightmare. I attempted to wake her up, but this one seemed to affect her more than any other.
A tear rolled down her cheek, and I couldn’t help but wonder what all had happened to her in her twenty-six years of life. I suspected in my almost forty years, I hadn’t experienced a fraction of the pain she’d endured, and my messy family dynamic barely scratched the surface of hers.
My brother was right.
I could be patient when I wanted to, but even I had limits, and now that she was in my life—as my wife—after eight years, I could feel my patience wearing thin.
Kidnapping aside, I’d given Lia no reason to distrust me. Yet it felt like each time it seemed like we got closer, a door would shut in my face.
I was even tempted to call my sister, but I knew that would be a mistake. I’d never hear the end of the fact that I married without my other siblings present.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” Liana asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“I’m just wondering.”
“About?”
She rolled her shoulders, then crossed her legs in that boss way, and I couldn’t help but compare this façade of her to the one that was whimpering and cuddled into herself in the chair, plagued by a nightmare. Which version of her was real?
“If you’ll give me the next dance.”
She blinked. “There is no music.”
I pulled out my phone, then pressed the first song that came up. As the first tune of “Gravity” by Matt Hansen came on, emotion-filled harmonies surrounded us.
I extended my hand. “How about it, Lia?”
She didn’t move, her cheeks colored in frustration. “I told you, I can’t dance.”
I smiled. “No better time to learn, is there?”
She got to her feet hesitantly, putting her fingers into mine. I interlocked our fingers, loving the look of her ivory skin against my tan.
“I’m going to put my hand around your waist.” She nodded and I slid my free hand around her slim waist, pulling her closer. “Just follow my lead.”
We started to move, her body brushing against mine and her eyes zeroed on our feet. We swayed slowly, perfectly synchronizing, and I marveled whether this was the sign that ourbodies were a perfect match. Her body adjusted, moving with grace and elegance that I now knew was synonymous with her.
“Eyes up here, wildflower,” I instructed.
When she lifted them, they shone with something warm, and I almost missed a step. “Better watch your step. I have no intention of catching you.”
