Bittersweet Seraphim (36 page)

“Feels like we should, doesn’t it?”

Emma felt a flash of panic as Breck’s pals made their drunken way over to the result of the fistfight—or beat down. “Brad and Dom, get Breck and take him home,” she instructed. “He was being a bastard.”

Jack turned around lazily, and he made sure Emma stayed behind him. Brad helped Breck to his feet as Dom promised to call his father the senator, the chief of police, and God. Jack scratched his nose with what Emma believed was his middle finger. At that point the bouncer, who had kept to himself until now, came and stood next to Jack.

“Hey,” Jack said casually to him, but his eyes never left the rich boys as they stumbled out of the bar. Once they’d gone, Jack nodded at the bouncer as he called the cops.

Then Shannon and Karen were once again on either side of her, prattling on about the fight and her amazing, f-ed up birthday. They pulled her out of the bar before she could exchange another word with Jack, though she did manage a meaningful parting glance. Police lights decorated the parking lot as Karen hustled them all into her car.

Chapter 40

Emma was disoriented being in her parents’ house instead of her apartment in the city. It was stupid o’clock in the morning, and all she could think about was the dirty-sexy bartender. She worried he’d been arrested after punching Breck. Talk about a twenty-third birthday to remember. Considering all she’d drunk, she should be sleeping off the alcohol in her system. Instead she had a little trouble breathing every time she thought about the kiss Jack had planted on her.

There was just something about him. She kicked off her covers and twirled her long hair into a bun. It smelled like the smoke from his cigarette. She opened her old bedroom’s balcony doors and stepped out in her bare feet. She shivered in her flimsy sleep T and low-slung flannel pants.

Ignoring the cold, she leaned on the railing, touching her lips again. The flashes of him were what didn’t make any sense. Like they’d been that way before. Which was impossible—she’d remember him. A lot.

An orange, glowing firefly caught her attention. Then she clearly heard someone exhale. He stepped out into the light seeping from her second-story bedroom. Jack.

Her heart dropped its panties.

“Hey, stalker. Not in jail?” She loved teasing him. His smirked response let her know she was onto something.

“Not yet. Am I a stalker if I’m returning your ID?” He reached into his jacket pocket and held up her driver’s license like a winning poker card.

“Yes. I don’t even remember leaving without that…It doesn’t even have this address.” She wished she sounded even a little offended instead of delighted.

“Googled you. Figured you were at your parents’ for the holidays. Happy birthday, by the way.” He gave her body a deliberate onceover.

“Whatever. Are you okay? Did the cops come?” She shivered and rubbed her arms.

He slipped her driver’s license in the pocket of his jacket, put his cigarette in his mouth, and tossed the jacket up to her. She leaned over and caught it. As she retrieved her license, her fingers brushed a box, and she pulled out his smokes.

“You can wear the jacket for a minute, if you’re cold.” His brown eyes sparkled.

“Thanks.” She slipped it over her shoulders and held out his cigarettes.

“You can toss those down. I’m assuming you don’t…” He held out his hand.

“Smoke? Never. Hate the habit. It kills, you know.” She held the railing as a wave of dizziness swept through her.

“One can hope.” He seemed to tense as he watched her wobble. “You all right?”

She nodded and shook her head. She’d already choked in front of sex-on-a-stick here. She wasn’t about to pass out.

She pulled a few cigarettes out of the box and crumbled them, letting the dried leaves fall to the ground like snow.

“Knock it off,” he growled.

But when she checked, his face was playful. She pulled out another handful. He stubbed out the smoke he’d been nursing and eyed the tree next to her balcony. When he grasped the first branch and pulled himself up easily, she knew she was in trouble. She grabbed another batch and crumbled them.

“That’s almost a full pack!” He climbed the tree like he’d done it a million times.

“I’m doing you a favor!” She was laughing and squealing now.

When he hopped onto her balcony, his presence was palpable.

“Be careful,” he told her. “You might just need to be spanked for this, pretty child.”

His mouth and that pet name exploded in her brain like a gunshot. They were someplace smoky and desperate. She was chained to something and very afraid of him. Her balance left her, as if her body were trying to recreate the scene in real time.

Before she hit the decking, he had his arms around her and eased her to the floor.

“Come back to me, Emma. Come back.”

She opened her eyes and groaned.

Super handsome was so worried. She wished she could stop feeling like a fainting pansy, but the words he strung together were haunting. She flailed against him.

Wings, tattoos, God? None of this made any kind of sense.

She felt something cold on her forehead and fluttered her eyes open, horrified to find she was crying—and back on her bed.

“What’s going on? Do you get seizures or something?” He was holding a hand towel from her bathroom on her head. She could feel its ruffled edges.

She shook her head. “It’s you. Your words.”

“I’m sorry. Do you need me to leave?” He stood, looking so sad.

The thought of Jack leaving made her cry harder. Her heart was blazing. She sat up and pulled the wet towel from her eyes.

“Come here.” She patted the bed and held his rough hand.

He touched her cheek. “Quit passing out, please.”

Threading her hands behind his neck, she pulled him against her chest. He hugged her awkwardly at first, but then melted into her as she hugged him hard, trying to pull him into her body, let her heart touch his to put its fire to rest.

“What is this?” She needed to know if he felt it too.

“Is it long and hard?” He pulled back and winked at her.

She slapped his arm. “Not that—these flashes I’m having. Did you put something in my drink?” It was the only thing that made sense.

“No.” He seemed offended. “Are you seeing me, but it’s not something you can remember?”

She nodded.

“It’s happening to me too.” As if to prove his point, his eyes fluttered a bit, and he leaned heavily on her chest.

She pushed him back to touch his cheeks. His face was so dear to her. He was everything.

“Case in point,” he said after a moment.

“Where were we? What did you see?” She searched his face.

He actually blushed a bit, and it was the cutest damn thing. “Um…”

“Were we horizontal?” She winced because everything in her flannel pants seemed to think that would be awesome.

“You were mine, and I was grateful,” he said carefully.

They were so close now, it was as if they were trying to occupy the same space. He licked his lips. But then they both turned toward her door. Someone was clearly coming upstairs.

“My dad!” Emma whispered. She sat up and pushed Jack off of the bed, grabbing his jacket from her old comforter.

“I don’t want to leave.” He was stubborn as she pushed on his chest to make him back up.

She looked over her shoulder. “My father will kill you. No joke. Go.”

She tossed his jacket over the balcony. “Get.”

“I’m not leaving until I know when we can see each other again.” He was still as a statue, not looking the least bit alarmed by her father’s heavy footfalls.

She leaned up and kissed him quickly. He kept coming at her. He wanted more. She put up a hand and stopped his sinful lips.

“Today. On the other side of this field. I’ll meet you there this afternoon at two!” She turned to face the door that would open any a second.

He pressed his lips to the back of her neck, and the thrill almost took her legs out.

Her father swung open the door. “What’s going on here?”

She heard the rustle of the leaves behind her and smiled. “Just a bad dream.”

“Close the doors. Are you crazy? You’ll catch your death.”

Her father was an amazing man. She adored him and would hate for him to think she was slutting it up under his roof. She quickly grabbed the doors, swinging them closed behind her.

“I thought I heard voices.” He backed away and switched her bathroom light off.

“Just me. Singing.” She closed one eye. What a stupid answer.

“I hope you didn’t drink too much.” Her father went to the door.

“No, I’m good. Just a bit to celebrate, you know. I love you, Daddy.” She got in her bed and laid it on too thick. “Just seeing you makes everything better.”

He squinted as if he could tell what she’d been up to. She batted her eyelashes and blew him a kiss. He shook his head and closed her door. She waited until his footsteps had carried him away before she hopped up to peek out the window.

She was too late. Jack was gone.

Chapter 41

Seriana could scarcely remember her life before Mine. She’d wanted desperately to teach him the unconventional ways their mother had instilled in her children. It had been a horrendous struggle, but with the help of her brothers, she’d kept him from killing anyone.

It was one thing to connect with each other in a cage, but it had been a whole separate situation to adjust to living together. He’d been fascinated with watching her do everyday tasks and seemed intent on doing anything portrayed on TV as manly. He watched football, and Seriana tried to explain the game. It didn’t help that she’d never been a fan.

But the bedroom sexcapades were her favorite. The ridiculous chemistry between them was outrageous. Although at first, she’d been a little concerned. Mine’s foreplay had included telling her she was cheating on him and ripping her clothes off. Their love was passionate, but always affectionate, so it was puzzling why he would think she was cheating. The only time she was out of his sight was alone time in the bathroom. Seriana solved that mystery one day when she forgot to bring her new shampoo in from the kitchen where she’d unpacked their purchases. Clutching a towel around her, she slowed as she walked behind the couch where Mine sat. He was intent on the TV screen, watching a rerun of an old soap opera. She burst out laughing when she saw the tumultuous relationship being portrayed.

“You laugh? This is…silly?” he questioned. He was still experimenting with new words.

She rounded the couch to him quickly when she saw her giggles had wounded his pride. “You are never silly. How could you be this sweet? Are you trying to make our life like that?” She nodded in the direction of the screen.

“The commercials say this man, Drake Hardweather, is every woman’s dream.” Mine pointed at the shirtless Romeo onscreen. “I want to be a dream for you.” He was so serious.

“I’d take you over Mr. Hardweather every damn day. You’re
mine
.” Seriana had kissed him and taken him
and
her new shampoo into the shower.

She’d realized years ago that she had a responsibility. She had to expose Mine to things so he could become his own person. After spending his years in a cage, it was almost as cruel to force everyday life on him. So Seriana made it her life’s work to watch him and gauge his reactions. She took him golfing, water skiing, and rock climbing. Mine was drawn to abstract art in the museum, so she got him paints and an easel. At the lake, she taught him to read, write, and swim. He was so patient with himself, and with her. It killed her over and over again inside to know that this spectacular man had been kept like a dog.

Doing all these things in the name of love, Seriana felt content. And there was nothing special about the day she realized she was all he’d known. It was a regular day, actually. They’d been cleaning together. She just suddenly stopped wiping the Windex off the window. She let the stream of blue bubbles drip down and turned to watch Mine vacuum. He loved her because he’d had no choice. She’d been forced on him by her grandfather all those years, just like the bars on the cage. She dropped the Windex and held the rag to her chest. Her heart crumpled in a ball.

Mine sensed the change, somehow, and locked eyes with her, shutting down the vacuum and cautiously approaching. “Seri? What’s wrong?” He took the rag out of her hand and hugged her.

She leaned back until she could see his beautiful eyes. When they’d met, his hair had hung in thick, matted ropes. He liked it short now.

“You don’t love me.” The words put tears in her eyes.

He shook his head as if she was speaking a different language. “You are love. My love.” But he looked concerned now too.

“No, I know. But I’m all you’ve had. All you’ve been forced to be with.” Her tears fell.

“You are scared? Show me what to fight.” His eyes blazed with an unfought battle.

“If I keep you, I’m no better than him.” She didn’t need to say Vittorio’s name out loud.