Broken (36 page)

He took her wounded hand and without taking his eyes off hers, began unraveling the wet bandages from around her broken finger. “You are safe here, Kira. If I felt you were in danger I would not leave tomorrow.”

His words only confused her. “So I’m not in danger from the Royals hunting me, either?”

He shook his head and smiled. “King Tyrious called off his men until after our meeting. It would be bad for his reputation if something happened to you before we were able to plead for your life.”

“Oh, well . . . we wouldn’t want his reputation tarnished,” she teased. But inside she was shaking. Actually, she shook on the outside, too. Despite the roaring fire, she felt chilled to the bone.

He spread the bandage along the front of the hearth to dry, kissed her cheek and stood. “I will be outside if you need me.” Then he disappeared.

Kira quickly stripped down to her skin and put on his shirt. The hem reached about mid thigh, which actually covered more than her shorts did back home. She had to admit it felt strange having her legs exposed. She would have never thought she’d like, or even get used to, the long dresses. She actually enjoyed living in a fairytale world—except for the danger, the lack of a hot water at her fingertips, and a few other minute conveniences of her world. Like a shower and toilet.

She grabbed the chair from the desk and put it near the fire, then draped her dress over the back to dry. She took the combs out of her hair and put them on the mantle and began twisting her hair in her hands to wring out the excess water. When she yelled for Octavion to come back in, his expression when he came through the door made her laugh. He spun around on his heals and faced the door.

“The shirt was your idea. Deal with it,” she teased.

He carefully made his way to the overstuffed chair, keeping his back to her the whole time. “It is not the shirt, Kira. The light of the fire is behind you. Your silhouette leaves very little to the imagination.”

“Oh.” She quickly sat on the hearth and wrapped his shirt tightly around her, covering herself the best she could with her arms.

Octavion propped his feet on the rickety ottoman and leaned his head against the back of the chair, closing his eyes. “Do not mind me.”

“Do you at least have a comb or brush I can use? My hair is totally tangled.”

Without offering to lend her a hand, he motioned above his head to a small wooden box. “That belonged to my mother. You might find something in there.”

“Well, could you hand it to me?”

“I would have to open my eyes.” He smirked.

“Ugh! You’re a lot of help.” She inched her way around the ottoman and slipped to the side of his chair to reach for the box. She was fully aware of what happened to the length of his shirt as she reached above her head for the box, but she tried not to think about what Octavion would think—or see. She wasn’t, however, expecting his hand to wander from the arm of the chair and graze her thigh. She jumped back and squealed, dropping the box into his lap. The lid popped open, spilling the contents.

He didn’t complain, simply picked up the comb and handed it to her then turned over the box and placed the items back in their place.

“I’m sorry, you startled me.”

“It was my fault. Perhaps you should go back to drying your hair.” His jaw muscles tightened.

She pushed his legs aside and sat on the ottoman. “Were all these things your mother’s?”

“Most are, yes.”

“I’m sorry, Octavion. I should have been more careful. May I see them?”

He picked up the last item, put it in the box and handed it to her. Most of the items were things she would use to fix her hair. There were several decorative combs, a few ribbons and a long, peculiar looking pin. But the things that caught Kira’s attention were two broken pink crystals. She picked up the pieces, held them together and saw they were once part of one whole. One end connected to a silver loop that must have hung on a necklace. It would have been beautiful.

“Was this your mother’s too? How did it break?”

“No.” He took it from Kira and put it back into the box then closed the lid. “I broke it.”

She sensed his reluctance to share the circumstances behind what happened, but her curiosity got the better of her. She put her hand on his. “Octavion, why won’t you talk to me? Did I do something wrong?”

He raised his eyes from the box and sighed. “This is not a conversation you want to have right now. Trust me.”

“Tell me. No secrets, remember?”

He searched her eyes for a moment. “It was to be Serena’s engagement present. I held it in my hand the night my father entered Lydia’s chambers . . . and told me Serena had died.”

“Oh.”

Neither said anything more. All she could think about was the stone he’d picked out for her the day before. Had he intended it to be an engagement present for her? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know—it would cheapen it somehow. She stepped to the fire to dry her hair while Octavion returned the box to its place on the shelf, sat back in the chair and closed his eyes.

It had been dark for a while when her hair had finally dried. She slipped under the covers on the bed and tried to sleep.

A few minutes passed when Octavion stood and came to sit next to her. “Kira.” He gently brushed the back of his hand across her cheek. “I am sorry.”

“Will you hold me?” she asked, desperate to feel his arms around her.

He looked at the empty space beside her and then focused on her face. “Not tonight.” He smiled, but it didn’t seem genuine to her. He kissed her on the forehead, pulled the covers up and went to lie on the animal pelt in front of the fire.

With one clumsy move she’d managed to bring back painful memories of both the mother he never knew and the woman he loved and lost. Now he wanted nothing to do with her. In response to his rejection, Kira rolled over toward the wall and curled into a ball. Her shell was a good place to be tonight.

For several minutes Kira numbly stared at the dark cobblestone wall, trying to figure out how she’d turned what began as a perfect day into a nightmare. At some point she found sleep, but it didn’t last. When she woke she heard Octavion put another log on the fire. She slowly turned to find him sitting on the rug with his back to her, one knee drawn up with his arm draped over it. She watched as the flames from the hot coals found life in the added chunk of wood. The hot sap caused the fire to snap, sending sparks into the air and up the chimney. The renewed flames licked the air, stealing the coolness from around the room.

She found herself thinking about what it would be like to lay in his arms. Not like before, but with no restraints or conditions. She wanted him. She needed him more than ever before. The reasons she’d conjured up for prolonging their intimacy seemed lost in her memories—a memory of violence and abuse. She no longer felt like the innocent girl he fell in love with near the falls, but a barren shell of a woman who had very little left to give. She had no reason to save something that served no purpose.

Before she could silence her thoughts, she stood behind him, waiting for him to take notice of her presence.

“Not tonight,” he said. His voice had a deep and throaty sound to it.

She remained standing behind him, not willing to accept his words. In one fluid motion, he stood and turned to face her. His eyes wandered down the full length of her body and then back up to meet her eyes—to gaze into her soul. She didn’t dare look away.

She took his hand and placed it over her heart, slipping his fingers between his shirt and her skin, letting him touch the skin just below her collar bone. His eyes shifted down to watch as she made his fingertips trace the base of her neck, feeling her racing pulse. She continued to guide them up her jaw and brush across her lower lip. She kissed the tip of his fingers and when his eyes found hers again they were threaded with tiny threads of gold.

“Make love to me,” she pleaded.

His eyes were uncertain. He shook his head, barely moving it from side to side. “No,” he finally said.

“But I want you to. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

He looked intently into her eyes. “Are you certain, Kira? This is what you want?”

She nodded.

He ran his hand through her auburn hair, stopping at the nape of her neck to pull her closer. He pressed his lips to hers, not holding back the passion she was sure he’d been suppressing for months. She melted into him as he gently lowered her body to the animal pelt. Propped up on one elbow, he leaned over to kiss her neck and take in her scent. One hand still held her head while the other slowly made its way up her thigh.

Her whole body pulsed with heat. She didn’t know how to react to these new feelings surging through her. She wanted this, she did. She felt sure she did. She closed her eyes and tried to relax by taking a deep breath, but it caught. Octavion tensed, pulling away from her and finding her eyes again.

“Are you crying?” he asked.

“No,” she lied.

“Kira, if you are not ready, we should wait.”

“I am ready. I’m just . . .” She couldn’t find the words so she turned away to avoid his eyes. She didn’t want him to see the fear in them. She didn’t want him to see the real reason she needed him to be near her. She wasn’t even sure what that reason was until that very moment—she didn’t want to lose him. If he made love to her, he wouldn’t leave her for Serena. She knew it in her heart. But it was too late. Right before she averted her eyes she caught the reaction in his face. She’d faltered for a split second and he’d seen it in her soul. She wasn’t ready.

He helped her to sit then turned back to face the fire. “You should go back to the bed, Kira.”

She took his words as another rejection and began to cry, this time not hiding her emotions. A massive lump in her throat threatened to choke her as she sobbed. “I’m sorry,” she said as she drew her knees up under his shirt and wrapped her arms around them. “I’m so . . . sorry.”

He slowly turned to question her, his voice tender. “Why did you change your mind? Why now?”

“I didn’t. You were the one that . . . stopped.”

He wiped the tears from her cheeks and gently held her face between his hands. “No, you told me you wanted to wait, to save yourself. Why did you change your mind? I need to know.”

There were so many emotions racing through her at once, she didn’t know where to start. How could she tell him she feared losing him? How could she question the love and sacrifice he’d shown her? Hadn’t he proven himself time and time again? But that was all before he knew Serena lived, before Kira had everything she held sacred taken from her. Before, when their love felt pure and simple—when
she
was pure and simple.

Kira thought about his question one more time, trying to find the right words to express how she really felt. She needed to be straightforward and tell him the truth—she owed him that much. She sat back, wiped the tears from her eyes and said the words that she’d felt swimming around in her heart for days.

“There’s nothing left of me . . . to save.”

She could feel the numbness of her shell taking over her emotions as she pushed herself away from him and stood. She went back to the bed, slid under the covers and faced the wall again. The room fell eerily quiet. She could hear no movement coming from behind her. Her words still hung in the air as if held there by an invisible thread. As her body began to tremble, she closed her eyes and ordered herself not to cry.

She didn’t hear him get up off the floor, only felt his weight as he sat on the edge of the bed. When his hand touched her side, she tightened the shell around her and willed him to go away, but he didn’t listen.

“Kira,” he whispered. So soft. So gentle. “I have something I need to say, but I need you to see my face. I need you to see the truth in my eyes.”

She couldn’t move. She felt wrapped in a cocoon with no way of escaping.

“Please, Kira.” He pulled the covers back, drew her into his arms and held her there. The warmth of his embrace melted the imaginary silk threads that bound her body. She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head against his chest. She still trembled, so he yanked the blankets off the bed, wrapped them around her, then stroked her hair.

“I would give my life if it would take your pain away. I cannot even imagine what they—”

“Stop,” she begged. “I don’t want to think about it.”

He took her by the shoulders and pushed her back to sit on the bed, holding her so she couldn’t retreat to the other side. He looked into her eyes for the longest time before he finally spoke.

“I can make you forget, Kira. I can take all those memories and put them away so you never have to think about them again. You tell me it is what you want and I will do it for you.”

His words sent images of Serena and Narissa through Kira’s head and how they’d suffered at the mercy of magic that should never have been used. They’d lost not only the bad memories, but also the good ones. As much as Kira wanted to forget what had been done to her, she wanted even more to remember her recovery and the strength she had gained from getting her life back. She wanted to have all the good memories that were twisted and tangled in with the bad. How many women had been abused who would never have the option to have their memories erased? It wasn’t fair to them and it wasn’t fair to Altaria. She’d gone through everything alongside Kira. Erasing it all would be like letting Shandira and her men get away with what they’d done.