Creature of Habit: Book Two (Creature of Habit #2) (20 page)

That was no longer an option.

I heard Amelia shift beneath the sheets, sighing softly.  I moved to the edge of the bed, lowering myself next to her fragile, warm body and I knew she’d cycled into another one of her dreams. Her bottom lip quivered and she released a tight sob. My heart ached for her pain, wanting to jump into her mind and save her from her nightmares. I stroked her arm lightly, barely making contact, but she whispered a hushed, "Grant," knowing even in her sleep that I was close.

My heart skipped a false beat at the sound of my name being murmured from her lips. I placed my thumb across the dark pink flesh, rubbing it gently as I had all those times before in an effort to calm her. I wanted my mouth on hers, I wanted her delicate body in my arms forever, and I wanted to hear every single beat of her heart.

And I realized, with soul crushing anger and frustration, there was no way I could have it.

Chapter 38

Amelia

In my dream, I was with Grant. We searched for Olivia. We desperately combed the shadowy corners and hidden alcoves of a haunting mansion. It was futile. She was gone. I turned to him, my angel, and begged, "Save her."

I sought his rich, violet eyes that pierced through the darkness and pulled his face towards mine. I waited for him to do it. To save her.

"I can't," he choked on obvious pain.

"You can. You can do anything," I insisted. I believed this to my core.

"I can't, but you can," he replied softly.

"How? I'll do anything. She's my friend…" But his face abruptly transformed. Angry lines creased his forehead. Tension coiled in his jaw.

He moved even closer, his finger pressing against my lips. My body instinctively sought to fit against his.

"Grant…" I said, aware, even half asleep, that his name escaped my mouth in the form of a moan.

I awoke with a start, confused, but certain that Grant was here with me, concealed nearby in the dark. With a start I realized his hand was pressed against my face. Reaching for him, I looped his finger with mine and led it to my lap. My idle hand searched for his face in the dark, groping until I made contact with his smooth, ageless skin.

"Are you okay?" I asked, afraid of his answer.

"We know a little more, but we haven't located her yet," he answered, sadness lacing each of his words.

My lips found his and kissed him softly, longing for my touch to be the salve that would ease his pain. His reaction was unexpectedly hesitant. I trailed my hand down his face and reached for the light on the bedside table, needing to see his face. With a single twist, the room was illuminated, glowing a warm yellow. He sat before me tense and anguished on the edge of the bed.

"Tell me what's going on." I wove my fingers through his hair, still damp from the shower. My hand traveled down his body, smoothing the shoulders of his T-shirt, which fit tightly over his hard, muscular arms.

His eyes focused just to the left of mine. "Elijah is heartbroken. Devastated, really."

“I can imagine.” Only I can’t. The thought sickened me.

“I’ve underestimated Caleb,” he said, this time locking his eyes with mine. "I thought I could stop him on my own terms. If I had to be honest, there were times I even enjoyed his little game of cat and mouse, but no more. Not after tonight.”

“Did something else happen?”

“He’s evil and he will do anything to hurt me.” He inhaled. “I can’t allow him to use you to make that happen.”

"What does that mean?”

"I mean, I'm not going to allow you or anyone else to be a pawn between me and Caleb." His voice was firm, but his eyes wavered. He dropped his gaze from mine and confessed in a strangled voice, "It's a sin for me to love you. God is making me pay for taking something that was never mine to have."

My jaw dropped and although I sat motionless on the bed, my heart shattered with his every word.

"No." That was the only reaction I could manage.

"This whole relationship is wrong. It isn't fair or realistic. It has to stop," he insisted, hiding his face under his thicket of hair.

"No."

"Yes."

It was as though I stepped outside myself. I should be more upset. I should be falling apart. Instead I watched him through narrowed eyes as he sat like an angel before me. He was afraid and wanted to run. I lifted his chin so I could see his face and found fear etched into every feature. Fear was evident in the tightening around the edges of his eyes and the downturn of his lips. Unfortunately for Grant, I wasn't some child or office minion he could boss around. His compulsion held no power over me.

"No, Grant." I raised my chin. "You don't get to decide this on your own."

"But I do," he said decisively. "I'm going to live forever and you're not. It's unnatural and wrong. I pretend to be Batman. Helping those in need, fighting the bad guy. Philanthropist by day, crusader by night. But, Amelia, you must realize superheroes never have wives." He laughed darkly. "The billionaire playboy is a theme for a reason. The bad guys use love for leverage."

"You think I'm nothing more than leverage?" I spat, annoyed with his childish comparison.

"I know you are. To Caleb, at least." He raised his eyes to mine, unapologetic and fleetingly angered. "You and I were rungs on a ladder that led directly to Olivia. I haven't figured out why he’s using her, but I do know I can't protect you and also find her. I have to make a choice."

"Screw that, Grant Palmer. I'm the one with a choice," I replied, tossing the words into the air foolishly.

Grant scoffed and he asked in the most condescending tone, "Oh really, how’s that?”

"I'm not afraid and that gives me power."

His brow narrowed. "Of Caleb? Amelia, don’t be dense. He took Olivia. I know she's small, but she's a fighter."

"I'm not afraid of any of it. Caleb, the fledglings but most of all, death. There is only one thing I'm afraid of losing, and it’s you," I said with so much conviction I surprised myself.

"What do you know of death?" he asked bitterly, removing his hand from mine in one, fluid motion.

"I know it claimed you and then gave you to me. It took you multiple lifetimes to find me, so yeah, I’m not hating on death. Without death there is no you and me," I deduced.

He exhaled deeply, leaping off the bed, and began pacing the room with erratic, inhuman steps. "You're right. Without death there
is
no you and me. Don’t you understand that? Not now, not in the future, not ever."

He was more adamant now, bolstered by his argument. I felt my own fear trickling through my veins, cold like his touch, but it was now or never. We were at a crossroads and if I didn’t get through to him, I would lose him forever. "I'm willing to risk it. Whatever it takes. For you. For us. For the future."

Grant shook his head slowly, defiantly. "No, you don't mean that."

I rose to my knees and traveled across the bed until I was face to face with him, close enough to smell his familiar, enticing scent and feel the overwhelming desire to lift my palm to his skin. I promised, "Grant, I do. If the time comes and you have to make a choice, understand, my choice has been made. Every time. It comes back to you."

I willed him to understand. To hear the sincerity of my words.

Slowly closing his eyes, he pressed his forehead to mine, his oversized hands gripping my hips. Quietly, he whispered, "You can't love me that much."

I wound my arms around his neck, tugging him closer. "I love you more than that." He winced at my words and weakly attempted to push me away.

"I don't know if I can inflict this life on someone else. I'm sorry, Amelia. It's because I love you so much. Losing you is a risk I can’t take."

I lifted his face and forced his gaze to mine. His eyes were despondent and cold. His hair was wild, like his mood, and everything about him was painfully, devastatingly beautiful. He was truly the most exquisite creature I'd ever laid eyes on. I can’t believe I ever held him in my grasp.

Finding the last bit of conviction I could manage, I challenged, "If you love me. Show me."

“Letting you go is how I show you that I care.”

"
No
. You owe me more than that, Grant. You can leave me, but not before you show me you love me." I was close to begging. Throwing myself at him.  Desperation consumed my words and every rational thought.

Comprehending my true intentions, he insisted, "It's wrong."

"Fuck wrong. Fuck safe." I threw myself at him, gripping the thin, worn material of his shirt. His eyes had grown fierce at my challenge and I felt myself slipping, clinging to him. Lacing my fingers in his thick dark hair, I pulled his head towards me and breathed low in his ear, "Fuck. Me."

The deep rumble that echoed through his chest shook me, but I kept my fingers tucked in his hair, refusing to surrender.

Grant's eyes widened at the vulgarity of my words. I felt heat run up my ears, but refused to back down. I was willing to play dirty and obviously so was he, I realized, wincing as his hands tightened around my hips, his thumbs digging deeper into my flesh.

Fearing I may have pushed him too far, I braved a final attempt. "Love me, like I know you do. I'm a woman and can make my own choices. If you won't consider eternity with me, consider giving me what I want right now. One night."

My words hung in the air, our bodies connected with fire, warming in the friction between our skin. Despite the conflict that warred in his eyes, he lowered his face to my neck and inhaled deeply. He spread his nimble fingers across my back, slipping them under the hem of my shirt and caressed the skin there. I shuddered at the sensation of his cool fingertips pressing into my heated flesh. I scraped my teeth down his neck, stopping at his collarbone to suck on his skin. He could deny our future, destiny, or fate, but he couldn't deny the fact his body wanted mine. Every part was charged and ready, fueled by the pain and desperation of the night. The only thing that stopped him was his mind. His mind wouldn't let go.

"I love you," I promised, licking his pursed lips once before scooting backwards and inching towards the headboard. He remained rigid for a moment, his eyes closed…struggling. I waited patiently, terrified he would run. He remained still—silent. My heart thundered in my chest begging him not to leave.

With a heavy sigh he relented, following me like I'd hoped, crawling over the rumpled bedding and hovering over my legs. When his face was inches from mine, he hesitated.

"I love you," I murmured, stroking his cheek, coaxing him to me. He caved, tentatively blessing my face with butterfly kisses. Craving the feel of him, I pushed my hips upward, rising in the air, seeking him.

I heard and felt the deep rumble that vibrated in his chest as he let his fingers wander over my threadbare nightshirt. Sinking back into the pillow beneath me, I relaxed and willed him to take me. I cupped his face in my hands and repeated, "I love you," over and over again to the man I truly and purely loved.

“Your scent,” he mumbled, inhaling deeply. “It changes when you say that.”

A tremor tore through his body, trembling like an earthquake. It was as if a switch suddenly flipped and decision overrode all of his other emotions. His eyes darkened, his jaw locked, and his hands moved quick and eager. He swiftly pulled off his shirt, sitting before me like a god chiseled out of stone. Before I had a chance to react, he reached for the collar of my shirt and tore it straight down the front. Cool air rushed over my skin, my nipples rising in reaction. Grant licked his lip and stared.

“Jesus,” I said, exposed and completely, utterly aroused.

He quirked an eyebrow and said, “You owed me a shirt,” before lunging forward. In an instant his mouth was pressed against mine, his hands and hips crushing us into the headboard.

Desperation must have taken hold, bringing forth a different Grant. The reluctance from our other times together vanished. There was no cajoling. No begging. He kissed me hard and dipped his fingers beneath the fabric of my panties. I touched him back, feeling the length of his erection.

Breaking away from our kisses he muttered through a series of hisses, "I don't want to hurt you."

I smiled wistfully down at him, believing it was too late, because he'd already hurt me with his attempt at abandoning us. Abandoning me and the love we shared.

"You won't," I guaranteed, having a blind, yet absolute faith that he wouldn't – not physically, at least.

I reached down and slid my panties off my legs before taking control and straddling him bare. I swallowed back at how right it felt as my body sought to connect to his. I fumbled with the button of his pants, unsure how to proceed. I hadn't lied earlier. I was all in, but we were close to risking everything right here, right now, and I couldn't be certain if he was really, truly ready.

"Ready?" I breathed shakily, distracted by the feeling of his hands as they traced the curves of my breasts. His fingers felt like satin rushing over my skin. He paused on the blood red stone hanging around my neck, plucking it from my chest.

"No," he said, and in a flash he was gone from under me, my heart on the verge of splitting into a million, unrecognizable pieces. But before I could fully process his absence, he returned, sliding under me, his pants removed. He settled me back like we were before, only now flesh to flesh.

"Ready," he breathed, unaware of my near-meltdown.

"Oh," I choked, my face flushing with humiliation. I raised my eyebrow in approval before running my hands over the sharp angled V of muscles just below his waist.

"Tell me, if it's too much," he demanded and flinched as I lifted up and reached for him.

I nodded, willing to agree to anything. "You tell
me
if it's too much."

He nodded, grimacing from either pain or pleasure. Maybe both.

Bending to press my lips to his, I crushed my body to his chest, eager and humming with anticipation. Grant ran his cool hands down the sides of my waist, floating over my skin with a delicate and tender touch. When he reached my hips, he lifted me like a feather over his upright erection. Our eyes met and I fell deep into them, swallowed by the desire and love they held. Slowly, too slow for me, but just right for him, he lowered me, inch by inch, until he filled the space between us. I closed my eyes, reveling in the connection, adjusting to him being in me with deep breaths. He was big and hard –really hard– but he felt like he should: Perfect.