Mine To Take (Nine Circles) (32 page)

He shuddered, unable to help it. Unable to stop the rush of desire that flooded through him.

You have to be cold. Detached.

But how could he be when she was here warming everything up? Melting everything. He couldn’t be. He didn’t want to be.

“You can tell me,” she whispered against his skin. “You can tell me anything.” Her hands moved along his spine. Comforting. “You don’t have to carry these things alone.”

Fuck the not touching. Fuck the cold. Fuck everything.

Gabriel caught a hand in her hair, tangled his fingers through it, and pulled her head back. Kissed her upturned mouth. Hard. Hungry.

Honor made a sound in her throat. Not protest. She surged up in his arms, kissing him back with her own hunger, her own strength. Her teeth sunk into his lip, nipping him, sending a sharp jolt of pain down his spine. Making him rock hard in seconds flat.

He couldn’t wait for this. Not for a bed. Not for anything. But the floor was like ice which left him only one option. He picked her up, carried her over to the Norton. Then he sat on the bike, holding her in his lap, facing him. She had her arms around his neck, still kissing him, a hot, demanding kiss that left him fighting for control.

He put a hand between her spread thighs, all raw heat and wetness, wanting to claim back the control from her. Flicking a thumb over her clit, he slid a finger inside her and she groaned against his mouth, her body trembling. Wrenching her head away, she gasped as he slid in a second finger, her eyes dark. “L-looks like I’ll be … walking away after this,” she panted.

Christ, her no-touching rule. But it was too late for that now. And he could make sure she wouldn’t walk.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He moved his hand, sliding his fingers deeper inside her, his thumb circling the hard bud between her thighs, savagely pleased by the way her body shuddered under his touch.

Her head fell forward, silky hair against his shoulder. “Y-you can’t force me, Gabriel. If I stay, it’s because I want to.”

She was hot now, the feel of her body around his fingers insanely erotic. Force her. God, how had it come to this?

You should have let her go …

He should have. But he hadn’t. And now it was too late. “You’re not going,” he said hoarsely, slicking his thumb over her clit. “I won’t let you.”

She shivered, her breathing harsh and fast against his throat. “You don’t want me to.”

“No.” The word escaped him before he could stop it. “No, I don’t want you to.”

“Then,” she said simply, “I won’t.” And she lifted her head and kissed him. No violence this time. Only softness. Sweetness. Her arms wound around his neck, her hips rocking against his hand. Gentleness and strength. “You make me feel so good.” A soft murmur against his mouth. “You make me feel … like myself.”

He didn’t understand why that cracked something in him. Why a few simple words should change things. He fisted a handful of silky black hair, pulled her head away so he could look at her face. Look into her eyes. They were wide and dark, meeting his.

“Why?” he demanded harshly, not even sure what he was asking.

“Because I can be myself around you. Because you’re my friend.”

“No. I’m not. I’m not anyone’s friend.” And he twisted his hand, stroking her so she moaned, helpless in his grip.

“I … don’t care what you say,” she said raggedly. “That’s my decision, not yours.”

Jesus, what could he do to make her change her mind? Make her see him for what he was? Who he was? Because he didn’t deserve her friendship. Or her trust. Or her loyalty. Not someone like her.

But he didn’t want to hurt her. Which left him with only one option.

The truth.

Slowly Gabriel withdrew his fingers from her.

“No,” she said. “Don’t stop.”

The heat of her seeped into him, the musky scent of her arousal making him so hard he could barely think. But she wanted the truth and so he would give it to her.

“Gabriel—” she began.

“I told you my mother was raped,” he interrupted hoarsely. “Well, that wasn’t the end of it.”

Honor blinked, the flush of desire staining her cheekbones, her eyes still dark. “What?”

“She got pregnant. She had a child.”

Her eyes went wide, shock beginning to creep into them.

“She had me.”

*   *   *

Honor shivered, the heady pleasure he’d been giving her dissipating, making her aware of the chill of the air around her. Of the icy darkness in his eyes. Pain. Guilt. Shame. He hadn’t been talking only of his mother’s. He’d been talking about his own.

Words—so useless, meaningless—got stuck in her throat. She didn’t know what to say.

He was the child of his mother’s rape. What
could
she say to that? There was a legacy there that made her feel cold all over, that made her ache with grief for him.

“So,” she said thickly, “this justice you’re seeking is from…” She couldn’t say it.

“Is from my father?” Gabriel said it for her. “Yes.”

His father …

“He was the owner of the hotel. No one you know.”

The connection formed, knowledge breaking over her, and she wasn’t only cold now. She was frozen right down to the bone. “G-Guy,” she whispered, horrified. “Guy is your father?”

He didn’t say anything but his hands on her hips tightened, his dark eyes holding hers, the look in them relentless.

“How do you know?” she demanded. “What proof do you have?”

“When my mother died I found a check in her belongings. It was from him. Dated the day she was raped.”

“That’s the only proof? A check?”

Anger lit in his eyes and this time, there was nothing cold about it. “Why the fuck else would my mother have a check from Guy Tremain? A check dated the day she was raped? It was for a million bucks, Honor. Money that she needed, especially after I was born. But she never fucking cashed it. There’s only one reason. It was from the man who hurt her and she didn’t want to touch it.”

She was so cold now. She couldn’t stop trembling. All this time, he’d known. All this time he’d had Guy in his sights and he hadn’t told her. That her stepfather was a rapist and he was his son.

No, it couldn’t be true. She just couldn’t get her head around it. Guy had never been violent. Not toward her and not toward her mother. Not even once. It didn’t make any sense.

“You don’t believe me,” Gabriel said and there were undercurrents in his voice she didn’t have a hope of understanding.

“Why should I? You have a check and a supposition. That’s all.”

His fingers pressed into her hip. Hard. His eyes had gone black, an intense, crushing darkness. “I
know,
Honor. I know it’s him.”

I will make him suffer …

“You can’t—”

“He took her future away from her. She wanted to be a nurse, did you know that? She wanted to go to college. Get a good job. She came here with so many fucking hopes and he took them all away from her.” His voice was low, savage with anger. “The prick
ruined
her life. He destroyed it.
I
destroyed it.” He took a harsh breath. “And this is the only way I can fix it.”

Her heart raced, adrenaline pumping so hard through her she could barely get her lungs to work. She couldn’t seem to stop shaking, the icy chill of the room freezing her. But the look in Gabriel’s eyes was hot. A volcanic rage she’d only caught glimpses of. A rage she could feel humming through him like electricity through high-tension wires.

He wanted to fix things. Like she’d spent her life trying to fix things.

Things that couldn’t be fixed.

She ached for him. For the pain and the rage that burned in him. For the burden he must be carrying. But … this was Guy. And he had no proof.

“I know what you feel you have to do,” she said, trying to stop her teeth from chattering. “But you must have proof, Gabriel. You have to be sure.”

“I am fucking sure!”

“Guy would never hurt anyone. You have to believe me, he wouldn’t. I know him and he hasn’t got a violent bone in his body.”

Contempt twisted his features. “What the hell would you know? He’s been laundering money for God knows how long and no one was any the wiser. He could have raped hundreds of women and you’d never know.”

“But there could have been—”

“Mom was raped by the owner of that hotel. She told me. And Tremain was the owner. His name was on the check that he gave her.” Rage burned in Gabriel’s eyes. “That motherfucker raped her then thought he could buy her off with
money
.” The way he said the word made it sound dirty. “Do you know what it’s like when your own mother looks at you with fear? Knowing that she doesn’t see her child in your face but the man who hurt her? Can you ever possibly know what it’s like to understand you’re the reason she’s in this mess? That you’re the reason her life turned to shit? And there’s
nothing
you can do about it?”

There was so much fury in his eyes. So much pain. She could see it burning bright beneath the blackness, beneath the cold.

“She couldn’t do anything to that bastard,” Gabriel said in a savage voice. “But I can. And I will.”

She wanted to hold him. Wanted to do something for him. Drain all that pain and fury. But when she lifted her icy hands to his face, he said, “Don’t touch me. If you know what’s good for you, you’d get as far away from me as you could.”

“Gabriel,” she began but he put her off the bike. Zipped up his jacket. Put on the helmet that sat on the back and pressed a button on his key ring that opened the doors to the garage. Then he gunned the bike, the garage roaring with the sound of the engine and the screech of tires as he took off into the night.

There was nothing else she could do but turn around and make her way back upstairs.

Shivering, she pulled a woolen throw from the couch and wrapped herself up in it, sitting down in one of the armchairs. The darkness and the silence enveloped her, the warmth of the central heating beginning to take the chill from her skin.

But nothing could take the chill from her heart.

She’d never seen a man so angry. Or in so much pain.

And apparently Guy was the cause. Guy was Gabriel’s father, or so he believed.

Guy was a rapist.

Honor bent and pressed the heels of her hands over her eyes.

“Do you know what it’s like when your own mother looks at you with fear?”

That happened to him. She’d seen her rapist in her son. Oh, God, no wonder he’d said he’d felt responsible for his mother’s guilt and shame. In his mind, he was.

A lump rose in Honor’s throat. She should do what Gabriel had told her. Leave. Get out while she still could. Go and see Guy. Warn him maybe. Because she couldn’t believe he’d done what Gabriel had accused him of. She just … couldn’t.

But … she couldn’t leave Gabriel, not when he was hurting like he was.

You know what this means.

Of course she did. If she was giving up the man she considered her father for him, it meant she was hooked. And it was too late to protect herself. Too late to save herself. She was in deep and there was no escaping.

Her throat ached. Her chest tightening as the truth of her feelings sank deep inside her. This was the ruin she’d feared because there was no way he felt the same about her. She didn’t even know if he was capable of it. Yet she wasn’t going to let that minor detail get in the way.

No matter how much he tried to deny it, Gabriel had no one else. Only her.

“I’m the reason her life turned to shit…”

He blamed himself. It wasn’t his fault and yet he took the responsibility for his mother’s life all the same. Because that’s what he did. He shouldered the burdens that were too heavy for other people. He took the responsibility for things no one else wanted.

Why? Did he think there was no one else to help? Did he think he was alone?

Tears prickled. Because she knew the answer to that already.

“Not anymore, Gabriel,” she whispered into the darkness. “You’re not alone anymore.”

Slowly, she lifted her head and wiped her eyes. Then she pulled the blanket around her even more tightly and sat back in the armchair to wait.

*   *   *

Honor opened her eyes abruptly knowing something had changed.

She was still sitting in the armchair in Gabriel’s apartment and it was still dark. But now a tall, powerful figure stood in front of her. Her heart began to thump painfully hard in her chest, even though she knew who it was. There was a chill in the air and she could taste snow at the back of her throat. He’d brought the winter back inside with him.

Good thing she was warm.

He said nothing, and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking because the darkness hid his face.

It didn’t matter anyway. She was here, that was all that mattered.

Honor threw aside her blanket. And opened her arms.

He didn’t move for a long moment and she could hear his breathing, fast, labored. Then, slowly, like a tree falling, he dropped to his knees in front of her and leaned forward, his arms coming around her waist, a vise holding her tight, turning his face against her stomach.

She put her arms around him, folded herself over him. He was so cold and she could feel tremors running through the big body kneeling in front of her.

She said nothing because this went deeper than words. This was where only silence and warmth could help. The physical warmth of another person to remind him he wasn’t alone. That he wasn’t as isolated as he seemed to think he was.

That she was here for him.

And he took what she offered, his breath hot on the bare skin of her stomach, holding her so tight, the tremors slowly fading. But not the tension. That remained.

Honor ran a hand down his leather-clad back then laid her cheek on his shoulder. He smelled of leather and snow. Cold wind and loneliness. She closed her eyes, letting her body heat into him, melting away that cold and tension.

She didn’t know how long he stayed like that, kneeling at her feet, holding onto her so tightly it was like he was afraid she’d disappear. Eventually she felt the muscles of his back flex, his body shifting. She eased away to give him some room.