Page 20 of Revelation (Love Isn't What It Seems 3)

I stared in shock at the dark shadow, unable to see his face but wishing I could. “I’m so sorry. When was that?”

“During my tour in the Middle East. My friend and his girl decided to get married, tired of waiting to get home, for the perfect time.”

I swallowed hard. I couldn’t even imagine how broken the woman must have felt. On the morning of their wedding, she found out that her husband-to-be was killed.

That little admission by Maxim Caldwell revealed a mask that hid the darkness I sensed the moment I met him. His free smiles and carefree attitude hid some painful feelings, and I found myself wanting to know what happened. I wanted to ease it for him. And that notion in itself was ridiculous because I couldn’t even ease my own pain. After all, I had become exceptionally good at hiding my own feelings. The hurt and darkness that sometimes threatened to swallow me whole.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. Part of me wanted to reach out and touch him, offer comfort. Instead, I balled my hands into fists and kept them steady. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.”

“You survive it, one way or another,” he muttered. I guess he was right, but guilt was hard to shake off. “Another wedding, I was the best man and the groom ended up having a heart attack during the ceremony.”

“Jesus,” I mumbled. “Maybe you shouldn't go to weddings anymore?”

“I think you might be right.” I could hear a smile in his voice, and my chest twisted with a strange emotion. “Ever been married, Layla?”

I scoffed at that. “God, no.”

“Why not?” There was mild curiosity in his voice.

“I don’t know. Guess it just never happened,” I answered honestly. “You?”

“No.”

“Ever wanted to?” I had no idea why I asked that. I shouldn’t have asked that.

“Once upon a time, I did.” I was surprised he answered, but now I prayed he wouldn’t ask the same question back. “But then I did a few tours in the Middle East, and somehow, it didn’t seem that relevant anymore.”

I frowned at the weird explanation. What happened during his tours that made him not want to get married? Then I corrected myself. He said it didn’t seem relevant anymore. Not that he didn't want to do it.

We remained sitting enveloped in darkness, the silence around us deafening but in the strangest ways, it was soothing and it felt right.

Chapter Ten

Maxim

Because you are not my type.Ouch.

Layla Cambridge is one little ice queen. Not exactly what I’ve heard about her from Livy. Supposedly, she was rather promiscuous and wild. Each time those blue eyes connected with mine, it was like a current straight to my heart. But I knew for sure she lied when she said I wasn’t her type. The way her skin flushed, her eyes roamed my body like mine roamed hers; I’d say we were definitely each other’s type.

But then, I wasn’t exactly honest with her either. A pang of guilt hit me the moment those words left my mouth, but it was too late to take them back. The damage was done. It gutted me to see a brief glimpse of hurt flash on her face, knowing I caused it. It wasn’t like me to say hurtful things to women. I knew without a doubt her bitchy demeanor hid vulnerability, and I didn’t want to be the one to contribute to her pain. Because there was pain underneath that hard surface. I suspected there was a lot of it.

What the hell did I do to her for her to dislike me so much? Or maybe it was just men in general? I found myself thinking about Layla a lot more than I should. I wanted to know the cause of her pain and fix it. I wanted to make her mine.

Jesus, if she’d react that way to my offer of a drink, how would she react to my offer to take her to bed and keep her there. Not well. Either way, we needed to learn to get along since we’d be around each other a lot now that Liberty and Alexander were married. She was Livy’s best friend and he was my brother.

It took all my self-control to walk away from her. My instinct was to go to her and sweep her off her feet. But now definitely wasn’t the right time. I had the sense she wanted to flip me the bird and then break my neck. Did any of it deter me though? No. It made me want her even more. Talk about fucked up. But then, I never claimed to be quite right in my head. Not since I served even my first tour in the Middle East. Seeing all the unnecessary death in children, women, and even men.

So instead of heading for the library, I went to my own bedroom and poured myself a stiff one. I sat in the darkness, which reflected as much inside of me as it did around me. The memories I couldn’t control swirling along the edges of my mind. I hated remembering it all. The smell of the dry desert, bloody sand, the dead eyes of my friends, and enemies alike. Just as I started drowning in those memories, a golden glow caught my eye.

And there she was. Layla Cambridge. Her shiny golden curls curtained down her back in its full glory; her face tilted up to the sky; her eyes closed. The lights from her bedroom gave her the extra glow, making her appear angelic.

I should have let her enjoy her solace, but I couldn’t resist announcing my presence. Maybe I just desperately needed company, and there she was, the only other human on this side of the castle wing.

I watched her frown at my explanation of not needing marriage. After seeing so much death, having no control over events and pointless deaths that happened on a daily basis, I came back home a changed man. My priorities had shifted. While before I looked for love, now I sought pleasure. For any woman I bedded and myself. But always her first, no matter who she was.

She didn’t say anything else, and we both lingered in silence, relishing in darkness. I was pleased she didn’t run. It felt good just watching her, hearing her little soft breaths.

Something about Layla Cambridge just felt right.

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