by Stone, Piper
Was I finally able to accept who and what he was, once again pretending that I was living a different life? And what about my dreams? Would he ever allow me to enjoy doing something other than sharing his bed, surrendering to his every need?
I closed my eyes briefly, still tingling from the way he’d held me in the shower, gingerly washing every speck of blood away. He’d been so gentle, even loving, helping me realize that I was much stronger than I’d given myself credit for. I couldn’t condone or even accept the kind of violence that would always be in his life, I understood the necessity more than I had before.
Every King child had instantly reacted to the shots fired, determined to protect their own. The attack had been without warning, but had it been without provocation?
I shifted my thoughts to Lucian, his scent remaining on my skin. I pulled my arm to my nose, taking comfort in the light musk and exotic spices tickling my senses. Every time I thought about the commanding man, my nipples hardened, aching for his burning touch. Visions of him flowed into my mind, boosting the desire that had never left from the night before.
He’d left after only a couple hours of sleep, trying to keep from waking me. I’d remained in the same position, able to see the bedroom door from where I was lying. When he’d stopped and turned, his deep exhale exaggerated, I’d seen pain on his face from my half-closed eyes.
Would he ever feel comfortable sharing more than a small portion of his life?
Why was this so difficult? I wanted to continue hating him, even to be fearful of his outbursts, but he’d already broken down my defenses.
Just like he told you he was going to do.
But he hadn’t forced that to happen. There’d been no cage or chains, only rules designed to keep me safe.
Sighing, I stared down at the same page I’d been on for over an hour. I couldn’t get the events of the night before out of my mind. I’d purposely tried to shut him out, but as what always happened when I was around the sexy, dangerous man, I couldn’t fight the attraction any more than he’d been able to.
After a few additional minutes, I rose to my feet, pushing the book back into the same spot on the shelf. Clouds had rolled in, the tumultuous sky ominous in appearance. Was this a foretelling of events to come? Chilled, I held my arms and walked out of the room, meandering toward Lucian’s office. I noticed the door was closed on the room next to it. Oddly enough, I couldn’t remember seeing anything inside but a few boxes. My curiosity as well as my boredom getting the better of me, I glanced over my shoulder, allowing a grin to slide across my face.
Peeking into those cardboard boxes wouldn’t hurt anything. Would it? I placed my hand on the handle, reminding myself that I was his wife. What had been his now belonged to me as well. Right? Finding it locked, I was taken aback. What was he afraid I would find?
I backed away, frowning then glancing into Lucian’s private space. He certainly didn’t seem to care if I went inside nor had he told me I couldn’t. At least that hadn’t been provided as one of his rules. After studying the lock, I moved into his office. One of my father’s methods of discipline wasn’t just banishing me to my room but locking me inside.
As if that had stopped me.
I’d learned to pick a very similar lock by the time I was eight. Piece of cake. I eased behind his desk, rubbing my hands across the beautiful mahogany sheen. The desk was exquisite, the only piece in the house that didn’t fit the décor. But it suited him in all his regaling glory. When I opened a drawer, I felt oddly as if I was trespassing, but I was able to find the single item I needed within seconds.
A paperclip.
Smiling, I moved back to the door in question, taking a deep breath as I unbent the clip, slipping it into the small hole and wiggling. Mere seconds later, I heard a single click then turned the handle. I still had it. A laugh bubbled to the surface until I walked inside.
Then a cold chill shifted down my spine.
I slapped my hands over my mouth to keep from making any sounds, tears springing to my eyes. He’d given me a gift of his heart, one that would give me back the dreams I thought were lost forever.
In the middle of the room was a beautiful, brand new pottery wheel. Surrounding it were shelves, some with wire shelves housing a copious number of supplies. Clays of various types, paints and lacquers, varnish and stain adorned two of the utility systems, enough to create dozens of beautiful pieces. Then there was a gorgeous bookshelf in light wood, a light hanging from the top, preparing to highlight whatever masterpiece I’d created.
Even though a storm was brewing, the light coming in from the two windows was perfect. If not enough, the track lighting with small aim-able LED lights would help tremendously. I turned in a full circle, brushing the tears away with both hands. I couldn’t believe he’d done this. How? When?
I couldn’t stop shaking, my heart making pitter-pattering sounds. Exhaling, I walked toward the supplies, touching one after the other, positioning the paints and stains so I could read the names of every color. Nothing could have shocked me any more than to find this.
Suddenly, hair stood up on the back of my neck. Swallowing hard, I slowly turned toward the door. Lucian was leaning against the doorway, his arms folded and his legs crossed. The expression on his face was almost unreadable, yet the look was stern.
I’d disobeyed him. Not only that, I’d broken into the room without asking. I bit my lower lip, trying to find some good excuse for my behavior. Of course, there was none. I’d fucked up. Now I was going to have to pay the price.
Another round of discipline.
At least I knew I deserved it.
Very slowly he walked toward me, sliding his hands into his pockets. He took a deep breath then turned his attention to the bookshelf I was standing in front of.
“I can explain.” Christ. Even saying the words sounded ridiculous to me.
He remained quiet, taking his time to allow his gaze to move from one shelf to the other before turning his attention in my direction. This time, I could see a distinct look of amusement in his eyes.
“I can see that you continue to have trouble with rules.” As he crowded my space, his nostrils flared.
Damn the man for being so attractive. “You did this?”
Lucian glanced around the room, reaching out and caressing the side of my face with his knuckles. He appeared exhausted, overwrought from whatever business he’d conducted during the day, let alone the night before. “I know how much your art means to you. Spending that hour in the little gallery in Cartagena was one of the best times I’ve had in a long time. I do want to make you happy, although I can’t promise I’ll give you everything you truly need.”
I took his hand into mine, rubbing my fingers across his knuckles. That’s when I realized they were scarred. As I peered down, I was able to see the hint of bruising. “What happened?”
“A necessary evil. I don’t think you want the full answer, Genevieve.”
“But you always told me you’d share the truth.” I brought his hand to my face then pressed my lips across the bruises.
His chest rose and fell as he watched me, the moment of tension between us making me ache inside. As I kissed each knuckle one by one, his breathing became ragged.
“The truth is I had to eliminate an enemy.”
I gazed up at him, uncertain what or if I should bother saying anything. “From last night?”
He nodded once, removing his hand from mine then stroking my hair. “A necessity as well as a warning. Remember that truth can be just as dangerous as the act itself.”
“I remember, Lucian, but sometimes, I’d prefer to know what you’re forced to deal with. Maybe one day that will help me understand that life I’ve been forced to live.”
There was another pained look across his face, then he masked his emotions as he usually did. “I was planning on surprising you this evening. Should I ask how you managed to get inside? Did one of the delivery drivers leave the door unlocked?”
&nb
sp; Heat splashed across my face, my embarrassment of committing the act of breaking in amusing me more than it should. “Let’s just say I have certain skills you’re not aware of.”
My answer allowed him to burst into laughter. “I can see I will always have my hands full. What am I going to do with you?”
Always.
The single word meant forever, something I hadn’t wanted to comprehend, let alone accept. However, there was no turning back. This was my life now. At least I could salvage something I’d loved with all my heart.
“Thank you for my surprise. I’m sorry I ruined it.”
“Uh-huh. My misbehaving brat. One with a heart of gold.” His face clouded again. “I only hope I don’t tarnish you.”
“Your life is the only thing that could do that. I believe you have a softer side somewhere deep inside of you.” I pressed the tip of my finger against his chest, drawing a circle around one of the buttons on his shirt. My eyes shifted to three small dots of red staining the perfect white pressed cotton. A tremor skidded into me, another telling moment of what to expect on a regular basis.
Lucian followed my gaze, pushing my hand away. “I should get out of these clothes. I brought you a phone. My number is programmed and it’s only to be used for emergencies. Do you understand?”
“I can’t call anyone else, not even my family.”
“Would you want to?”
I thought about his question, realizing I didn’t have much to say. “Maybe my mother.”
He looked at me for a few seconds. “You’ll be allowed to at some point.”
“Just not now.” I knew the answer and I could tell he had no intention of offering one.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked as he handed me the cell phone.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a little time in the room, just for a few minutes.” The way our fingers touched was just as explosive as any other time.
“Why don’t I join you. I’ll open a bottle of wine. Would that be acceptable?”
For a man who was used to having soldiers trailing behind him almost every day, a house cleaning staff that also purchased groceries, his simple gesture was more touching than it would be to anyone else. In his own way, he was asking permission to enter my realm, the only place that belonged to me entirely.
“I would like that.”
“Good.” He hesitated before walking toward the door.
“Make certain and soak your shirt in cold water or the bloodstain won’t come out.” I had no idea why I made the statement and in such a matter-of-fact way. I inhaled, holding my breath, darting a glance in his direction.
The change in his expression was unusual. Perhaps he hadn’t really anticipated that I would eventually accept the kind of man he truly was.
“Noted.”
When he walked out of the room, I listened to the pounding of his footsteps. The sound was much more pronounced than before. As if the weight of the world rested squarely on his shoulders.
Sighing, I moved back to the center of the room, turning in another full circle, allowing myself a cry of glee. He had no way of knowing just how much the gift meant to me. I noticed the small stereo system, grateful I’d have music to drown out the demons forever crawling in my mind.
I placed the phone on one of the shelves, actually thinking about my mother for the first time in days. She didn’t seem too bothered her only child had been sold. Why should I even consider talking with her? Nope. She didn’t deserve it.
When I found the perfect CD, a beautiful collection of Spanish guitar, I closed my eyes for a few seconds, envisioning a quiet walk on the beach, hand in hand with the man I loved. There would be a light breeze, the warm kiss of water splashing across our feet, and the most gorgeous sunset we’d ever seen. All colors of the rainbow would be represented as a backdrop for the start of a romantic evening.
As if that was ever going to happen.
There was no sense in wishing for something that would never happen. I grabbed one of the waiting drop cloths, positioning the thick canvas around the wheel then selected my clay of choice. Whether or not I would be allowed to finish the piece I wasn’t certain, but I would enjoy the effort almost as much as the end product.
Minutes later, the bowl was already taking shape, although it would seem that after only a week, my skills were rusty.
Or maybe my hands were just shaking because of the situation.
Whatever.
I didn’t care.
For a few precious moments in time, I was free from worry and anxiety.
From hatred and anger.
From acceptance and regret.
The beautiful chords as the guitar player moved from one song to another were inspirational. I was finally able to concentrate, the feel of wet clay slipping through my fingers relaxing as well as stimulating.
I was so absorbed that I hadn’t detected his presence, which was the first time since I’d laid eyes on him. Only when I felt the touch of fingers on my arm did I slowly lift my head, actually smiling for real for the first time since my father’s audacious demand.
“What do you think?” I asked, amazed at the different in the way he looked. The jeans he’d selected were so old that the frayed material across both knees had finally split, showing skin, the color faded to a muted blue. And his shirt had seen much better days, the wrinkled polo something he must have grabbed from the back of his closet. Even his bare feet were a tremendous surprise.
He’d never looked sexier.
“I think you are a master craftsman.” He grinned, another moment where his dimples were highlighted, his eyes twinkling with real joy.
“Well, I’m way out of practice but this will do.” I kept the wheel spinning, not wanting the simple piece destroyed in its infancy.
“Don’t let me interrupt you.” He backed away, placing one of the glasses on an empty shelf, leaning against the bookcase where I could still see him.
I moved back to the piece, molding and shaping but constantly distracted by the sight of him. I would forever be uncertain why his presence always had the same kind of effect on me, building thirst to the point of wanting nothing else than to be touched by him, kissed by his voluptuous lips.
And taken in any manner he desired.
What gave me pause was that the sensations were entirely different today. My reaction to him wasn’t just about the chemical attraction that burned deep within. I craved having him close, to see what I was capable of. I also wanted him to share the experience with me. My breath skipping, I slowed the wheel, making the final touches on a very simple bowl, but one I was satisfied with.
Although it would need some additional work, I could at least place it in one of the secure locations to dry. As I did so, there was no conversation, no need to fill the void with words. He was respectful of my time, more so than I could have imagined.
When I stepped back, I gave the piece a nod of approval, kicking myself for not attempting a more complicated design. I finally turned toward him and I could swear his eyes were glassy. Along with his twisted mouth, he had almost a little boy appearance, something I was certain he’d loathed hearing.
“Just amazing. What’s next?”
I walked closer, reaching around him for my wine. Our arms touched and a shiver coursed down my spine, my pulse immediately increasing. “It has to dry for a significant period of time before I can do anything with it. The bowl isn’t perfect, but I’m happy with it.”
“I think your creation is wonderful. I hope you’ll make more.” He inched closer until he was barely two inches away.
The scent of his cologne wafted into my nostrils, making me dizzy. I took a deep breath, dragging my tongue across my lips before answering. “Next time, I’ll make a special one just for you.” I actually purred after telling him. What the hell?
He chuckled and gave me a nod. “Deal. And I’ll hold you to it.”
“I just bet you will.” He took a sip of wine, his gaze slowly falling dow
n the length of me, his eyes narrowing.
I could tell he was undressing me with his eyes, the bulge between his legs throbbing. Damn, my mouth was watering. I hid behind the glass, taking a few sips, the cabernet spectacular. I could almost envision the man coming home from work then we’d share a glass or even a bottle before dinner, enjoying the time together.
What was I thinking?
That was never going to happen. He was never going to be that kind of man or husband. When I tried to back away, he gripped my arm, but not with the same kind of force that he normally used.
“Are you making something else?”
“Perhaps. If you’re a good boy.” The playfulness was more stilted than before, forcing me to stiffen.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
I took another sip, almost dropping the glass before I managed to return it to the shelf. “Then I’ll give you a lesson in determining the best type of clay to use.”
As I started to explain the various clays and the preferred methods, I could tell he was interested, listening to every word I said. I prattled on, comfortable in the subject matter, realizing no other person in my life had bothered to ask me about my chosen profession, if you could call what I’d done up to date any kind of a job.
“It’s just a damn hobby, Genevieve,” my father had told me on more than one occasion.
“Do you want to show your pieces in a gallery?” Lucian asked out of the blue.
“That would be amazing, but I’m not that good. I’ll need a couple years of uninterrupted practice.” I gave him a coy look, curious as to what he would say. Then I selected a hunk of clay, although I fully intended on allowing the piece to be nothing more than for practice. I eased onto the stool, immediately positioning the single piece, starting the wheel again.
“Then we can make that happen. I think you’re damn good.” He placed his wine by mine and walked closer. This time as he slipped behind me, straddling my legs, I wasn’t startled or even concerned.
Yet the heat of his body against mine was even more explosive.
“You’re ready for another lesson?” I whispered.
