Nightbloom (9 page)

He held out my comm with a video playing, the sound off. The footage was of me. I pressed my body against Paxon, pulled his face down to me, and planted a fiery kiss on his mouth in front of stunned onlookers. Someone had apparently been quick to video my public display and either posted it on the Net, or Clayton had gotten it directly from them. Heat rushed to my face.

Clayton grinned, but there was no trace of humor. Only biting, calculating malice. He spoke in a low, cruel tone. “Let’s go outside. Unless you want to have this conversation in front of your dear, sweet mother.”

He knew exactly what my fears were. When we’d first started dating, I’d mentioned my mom’s aversion to Morgons. In an attempt to get closer to him, I’d shared my own fear of disappointing my parents. Now, I regretted my stupidity.

I swallowed the ugly words I wanted to say to him. Now wasn’t the time for a scene. I’d have to break it to my parents later.

“Don’t wait up for me, Mom.”

“Good evening, Mrs. Barrow,” Clayton cooed in a syrupy voice, hooking one arm through mine, and led me out the double-doors into our circular drive.

As soon as we were out of earshot, I ripped my comm device from his hand.

“Clayton, I made it quite clear to you that we’re through.” As we neared my car in the twilight shade, I clicked the video off and shoved my comm in my coat pocket. “I don’t know what games you’re playing, but you need to listen to me well. I
don’t
want to be with you anymore. We are
done
.”

Lightning fast, he gripped my face from underneath, palm to my chin, fingers clenching my jaw. I yelped. He shoved me back against the car and locked me in place with his legs outside mine. Rage contorted his face into strained lines. Something sinister glinted in his eyes. I’d seen his outbursts of temper before, but not like this.

“Now, you listen to me,” he grated, face close, breath hot. “I don’t give a
fuck
what you think. We’re not done till
I
say we’re done. I’ve invested five months into you, and as far as I’m concerned, we’re as good as married.”

“You’re out of your mind. I’d never marry you. How could you even think I would after I saw you screwing that girl?”

“If you’d put out, Ella, I wouldn’t have had to resort to
screwing that girl
. It’s your fault, really.”

“You’re disgusting.”

His hand shifted, thumb and forefinger pressing into the hollow where my jaw met my neck. His other held my shoulder hard against the car.

“What’s suddenly changed your mind? You puttin’ out for Nightwing now? Is that it?”

“Let go of me.”

“Not until you understand this situation more clearly. So let me explain it to you.” His hold on my throat loosened, caressing down almost lovingly in a sick contradiction of reality. “I’m still climbing the ladder in my father’s business, and I need a wife to host the right parties with all the right people in order to climb higher. You’ve got what I want in a wife. You look good, which makes me look good. Family connections. Money. And you’re loyal. When we’re married, I won’t have to worry about you fucking around on me and making a fool out of me behind my back.”

“Loyalty is important to you? You’re such a hypocrite,” I said, anger flaring in my chest. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man in the world.”

“I don’t think you appreciate what’s going on here. You could make me lose—” He abruptly grit his teeth, biting off what he was about to say.

“What? I could make you lose what?”

“My father has agreed that you’re the perfect woman to bear the next generation of Kerrington heirs. He admires your family lineage, which is of the highest caliber in the aristocracy, despite your mother’s shame. He has decreed that you are the one. So you will be.”

I shoved him hard, backing him up a few inches. “What are you talking about ‘my mother’s shame’? And I can guarantee you I will never be the one to bear your children.”

A malevolence like I’d never seen swept over his features, pooling in his eyes.

“I know a little secret.” He leaned close to my ear, pressing my body against the car. “I know a Morgon raped your mother when she was in college.”

My breath hitched. I’d known the haunted look in her eyes and her unnatural fear of Morgon men might be from something this dark, but I never thought to hear the nightmare confirmed by someone like him.

“Yeah, my dad told me all about it. Said she dropped out of college, fell out of society, and would’ve faded to nothing if your dad hadn’t taken pity and married her. Even though your mother is sullied, dear old dad says your bloodline is clean and pure.”

I hauled my arm back and slapped him across the face. “That’s a lie.”

He grabbed my wrists, squeezing hard, still whispering in my ear. “It’s true. And you know it. Now, let’s imagine how devastated your mom will be when she sees that video. Let’s also imagine how it’ll break her heart when she hears that you’ve been sleeping around with dozens of Morgons, her precious princess spoiled by those she fears and hates most.”

“I haven’t! I wouldn’t!”

“She’d believe me, and I have some very convincing friends in high places.”

Tears stung my eyes.

He smiled. “Now let’s further imagine that along with your whoring around the Morgon district, the truth leaks out that your mother was raped long ago. And now here you are breaking your mother’s heart and bringing more shame on the entire family.”

“You wouldn’t.” I couldn’t keep the tears from falling, and he smiled.

“I would. And I will. The papers love a scandal, especially ones about the fall of someone so seemingly angelic as you are.”

“Don’t you think that would ruin your reputation, too? Tarnish your lofty goals of climbing the ladder?”

“I’m giving you a choice, Ella. Choose me or your whole family will fall. I’ll have no use for you if you refuse.”

“I hate you.”

He grinned, but it faltered when his eyes landed on my collar. He let go of one wrist and pulled down the coat collar covering my lower neck. My pulse raced, knowing that he stared at the mark Paxon had left on my skin. The make-up only partially concealed the bruise.

“You
are
fucking Nightwing, aren’t you?” Rage and venom in his voice.

“It’s none of your damn business, Clayton. Now, let—”

Someone interrupted from behind. “Pardon me, Ms. Barrow, but is everything alright?”

Our gardener, Simms, an older but stalwart fellow, looked capable enough to knock Clayton’s head off with the hoe in his hand. Clayton dropped his hold on me and backed away a few inches.

“We’re fine, Simms, thank you. Mr. Kerrington was just leaving.”

Before either could manage a word, I shoved Clayton away from my car door, hopped inside, locked it, and zoomed down the long drive. Glancing in my rearview, Clayton’s silhouette lingered in the shadows where I’d left him, watching me go. A heavier weight, the darkness of fear, hovered in my heart as I headed out on my first date with Paxon Nightwing.

Thankfully, the drive to the address Paxon had given me was long enough for a good cry, for the redness to fade, and for the tears to dry. The map on my car comm led me north of the city along a rural road. When I arrived at a tall, wrought-iron gate, I pushed on a panel at the entrance. The door swung open without anyone questioning me via the speaker.

The long driveway wound through a dense woodland, finally opening up to several cleared acres and a sprawling mansion—no, a castle at the end of the path. The driveway circled around a fountain where the statue of a Morgon woman bathed herself at the center. I parked along the side, powdered my face one more time in the mirror, especially under my eyes, and straightened myself before stepping up to the door. Before I could knock, the door swung open.

A man dressed in formal black, typical of household servants, held the door open and bowed. “Ms. Barrow. You’re expected.”

“Oh. Um, thank you.”

Walking across the threshold, I heard the steady stride of Paxon crossing the stone foyer to greet me. When he was within fifteen feet, his blithe expression fell into something akin to hostility.

The servant closed the door and disappeared as Paxon made his way to me, eyes darkening as he came.

“Hi.” I smiled. Or tried to.

“Why do I smell him on you?”

“Um, I’m sorry. Who?”

“Kerrington. His scent is on your skin. Why?”

No anger vibrated in his tone, though it shone in his eyes.

“He dropped off my comm device. I left it in his car that night at Spire Maiden.”

He stepped within inches without laying one finger on me. The distance felt fathoms deep.

“That doesn’t explain why his scent is all over you. It doesn’t linger that way with a passing touch, Ella.”

“You can tell that? I hadn’t realized a Morgon’s sense of smell was so strong.”

Okay. That remark was an obvious diversion. It didn’t work. His dark gaze held me, waiting, none too patiently.

Clearing my throat, my gaze fell to my fingers where I fumbled with a button on my coat. “He wasn’t happy about the break-up. He didn’t, I mean, he wanted to try again. But I…” I glanced up, then down again. “I told him we were through.”

All true. Of course, I had omitted that he not only planned to ruin my reputation, but also bring shame on my whole family in a public forum if I didn’t agree to go back to him. I had to figure a way out. I couldn’t tell Paxon all of that horrible history about my mother and what Clayton planned to do. It was too shameful. Besides, Paxon might do something rash and jeopardize himself. I couldn’t take the risk of getting him involved in my mess.

Paxon’s finger lifted my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. He’d done this before when I had tried to avoid him. “Did he hurt you?

“No.”

“Is that the truth?”

“Yes.”

“The whole truth?”

No response. I bit my lip. A frustrated sigh leaked out of him. Both his hands cupped my face with reverence and tenderness. I rested my hands on the thin fabric of his chocolate-brown sweater, the exact shade of his imploring eyes.

“Ella. Don’t you trust me?”

“Trust you? Of course, I do.”

His thumb stroked my cheek. I curled my fingers over his wrists.

“It’s okay. He just needed to hear one more time that there’s nothing more between us. Honestly, there never really was. He was a little…physical, but I could handle it. And now he knows we’re through.”

All true.

I saw a flash of gold before Paxon closed his eyes. His jaw tightened. He sucked a deep breath in, then out, opening his eyes after a long minute. Dark, warm brown.

“If he gives you any more trouble, promise me you’ll call me, you’ll tell me.”

“Of course.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.”

I tiptoed up and met his lips. Reluctant at first, rigid from anger, he then opened for me. The kiss went from gentle to frenzied in three seconds. I’d initiated, but I wasn’t in control now. Paxon showed me who was master here, and it certainly wasn’t me. He pulled me into his arms, firming his mouth harder against mine. When our lips parted, we were both out of breath.

“God, Ella. You’re driving me mad.”

I remained fixed on his lips, loving the way they tilted in the sexiest way when he spoke. “Ditto.”

He chuckled, releasing me with slow reluctance.

“Come on. I want you to meet my parents before we go.”

“Your parents?”

“Yes.” He tightened his grip on my hand as he led me swiftly along.

He guided me down the high-ceilinged corridor toward an open terrace. I could finally admire the way his casual sweater molded perfectly to his fine physique. His loose-fitting dark denim did nothing to disguise his powerful legs. This casually dressed Paxon had helped me relax, but now he wanted me to meet his parents?

“Do you live here?”

“I stay here sometimes, but I have another place.” His mouth quirked to one side.

Paxon was not what I’d thought of him before. My first impression had been of a man who owned a room with his swagger and charm and dominant will. This all remained true, but since then I’d discovered another layer where this sexy-as-sin Morgon held his parents in high esteem and could melt a girl with sweet tenderness. I wanted to reach up and hug him, but I bit my lip and faced forward instead.

“What? What’s that look mean? I don’t know all your looks yet.”

Yet. One simple, beautiful word that implied we had a future together.

“I’m just surprised. You don’t seem the type to live with mom and dad.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“Yeah, but I
am
the type to live with mom and dad.”

He pulled me to a stop before we crossed the outdoor threshold.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. I’m just sort of, you know, dependent.”

His brow creased into a frown. “That’s how you see yourself?”

A one-shouldered shrug.

He trailed my braid through his hand, sliding along his palm. “I’ll remedy that.”

Before I could ask him what he meant, we stepped out onto a wide terrace with a black-and-white checkered floor. A tall, Morgon woman walked toward us from a glass table—silky black hair, slender black wings, and a benevolent smile. She held out her hand to me as we approached.

“Hi. You must be Ella.”

I shook her delicate hand.

“You are far lovelier than I imagined.”

“It’s not as if I didn’t tell you, Mother.”

Her eyes rested lovingly on her son. “Yes. But men tend to exaggerate on occasion. I see that you did not.”

I thought meeting the parents was like a third or fourth date event. I had no idea what I expected when meeting Paxon’s parents, but this warm welcome was not nearly it. I blushed, but not from her compliments. Rather, I was ashamed when I imagined how my own mother might greet Paxon.

“I’m afraid I can’t join you for a drink. Neero has been hounding me all day about the household accounts. It was a pleasure to meet you, Ella. I hope to see you again soon.”

“Thank you. I hope so, too.”