by Bea Paige
“There are many things that you don’t know about me. But, yes, that was me singing.”
“Fran, your voice is beautiful! Seriously, I had no idea. Did you ever sing professionally?”
For a moment Fran’s eyes glaze over as she remembers some long forgotten moment in her past. “Not professionally, no. There was only one night that I ever sung willingly in front of an audience bigger than a handful of people. That night changed my life forever,” she sighs, her eyes tearing up.
“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. I should learn not to pry.”
She shakes her head. “You haven’t upset me. It’s been a while since I’ve thought of that time in my life. I didn’t even realise I was singing,” she says, swiping at a stray tear. “I miss it, I miss them.”
“Them?” I ask, my brows pulling together.
“The Seekers… I was their captive, their little bird, Avery, and they were my heart.”
“Fran…” My voice trails off as I see the hurt flash across her face. What does she mean she was their captive?
“It was a long time ago, Rose.”
“Where are they now, the Seekers?”
She smiles shakily at me, straightening her spine. “That’s a story for another day. Right now you need to go to Erik. Be with him. Then when you’re all strong enough, deal with that witch and that monster, Viktor. Make. Them. Pay,” Fran says, her kind eyes darkening. In them I see a glimpse of a past that isn’t so very different from my own.
I hear shouting the second I step into the corridor leading to Erik’s private wing. Leaning on my crutch, I hobble as fast as I can to his bedroom door.
“She stays here, that’s the fucking end of it,” Erik roars, pushing his finger into Anton’s chest as I fling open the door.
“No! She comes. She’s safer with us. I don’t want her stuck here on her own,” Anton retorts, standing his ground.
“Hey! What’s going on in here?” I shout, raising my voice over the din. Erik and Anton turn to face me. Both are breathing heavily with anger. Shit.
Ivan is the first to break the tension. He rushes forward, wrapping his arm about my waist. I lean into him, grateful for his support.
“We thought you were resting,” he says, pulling a face as I wince at the sudden rush of pain.
“I was, and then Fran informed me Erik wasn’t feeling too great. I thought she meant you were having another flashback, though I can see now that isn’t the case,” I say, addressing Erik directly. “What’s going on here?” I ask looking between my two angry men.
“Erik wants you to stay here when we confront Ms Hadley and my… our father. I’m not keen on the idea. I don’t want you leaving our side. If we confront them, we do it together or not at all.”
“And I don’t want Rose within ten feet of those murdering bastards!” Erik snaps, anger a violent tick in his jaw.
“I see,” I retort, both touched by their thoughtfulness and a little pissed off, to be honest. “Ivan, would you help me to the sofa, please?” I ask him.
“Sure thing, Rose.”
“Okay, looks like we need to have a little chat about a few things. Can you both keep calm enough to do that?” I ask, looking at them both as I make myself comfortable on the sofa. Ivan is pouring me a cup of tea, keeping busy whilst I give Erik and Anton my most severe ‘don’t mess with me’ look.
“Here we go,” Ivan says handing me a mug, smirking a little when he sees the look on my face. “Uh-oh, you two are in deep shit now.”
“Shut the fuck up, Ivan,” Anton snarls, crossing his arms defensively. I’ve not seen him this angry before. I don’t like it.
“This is a joke. You’re staying put, Rose. That’s all that needs to be said,” Erik pitches in, glaring at Anton.
“This is not a dictatorship, Erik.” I say as calmly as I possibly can. “I have a right to make my own decision, but I’m not fool enough to do so without hearing your thoughts first. Because believe me, this isn’t going to be the last time we’ll have to decide something important together. If this is going to work, we need to talk and listen, got it?”
I look at each man in turn, waiting for a sign that they at least agree with this.
“Sure,” Ivan says, raising both eyebrows at his brothers in a ‘I told you not to fuck with her’ look.
“Fine,” Erik sighs.
“I can deal with that,” Anton adds, perching on the corner of Erik’s bed. He keeps his gaze firmly fixed on me and not Erik who is now pacing back and forth, unable to keep still in his frustration.
“Good, because we’re not a bunch of kids. We’re adults, and this is a relationship. We need to talk, and we especially need to talk about things like this. I won’t be usurped. Do that, and I won’t even bother to hear your opinions, I shall just make a decision of my own.”
“That’s fair,” Anton concedes, scraping a hand over his beard.
“Fine!” Erik snaps for a second time. He’s so wound up that I almost, almost feel fearful. Then I remember who he truly is, and the advice Fran has given me. I must be firm, strong, but ultimately there for him, all of them, no matter what.
“Okay then, let’s sort this out.”
Chapter 19
Erik
“So there really isn’t anything I can do to persuade you to stay here, to let us deal with those two on our own?” I say, gritting my teeth in frustration.
“I’ve made my mind up, Erik. I’ve listened to your point of view. I’ve given you the courtesy of hearing you out. I understand your fears, I really do, but I’m coming. There are things I need to address too, and I can’t do that hiding away at Browlace. You asked me to weather the storm with you, and I made a promise to all of you that I would.”
“Your safety means more to me than you breaking a promise, Rose,” I persist.
“Until the storm breaks or we do… remember?” she reminds me, her gaze determined.
“I remember,” I admit, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it or that I should agree.
“Then that’s settled.” Rose looks at Ivan, addressing him now. “Can you make arrangements for our trip to London?”
“Sure, I can probably get the plane chartered to City airport in the next few days once the weather’s cleared if you think you can manage it?” Ivan explains.
“I can manage it. I’m a lot more able now. Apart from the odd twinge, my knee is nowhere near as painful as it was,” Rose responds, absentmindedly rubbing her palm over her knee.
“Then I’ll get onto it straight away.”
“How is Emmie getting back to Kirkwall given no flights are leaving the airport at the moment?” Rose asks suddenly.
“I booked her first class on the train up to London, then on from there to Edinburgh. She’s going to meet with her husband at a build job he’s doing there at the moment. She was keen on talking to him…”
“I’m assuming about the abortion, and not about the fact Isabelle was murdered?” Rose questions Ivan, worry tightening her lips into a hard line.
“Not about the murder, no,” Ivan confirms.
“And she really didn’t want to stay? I feel like there was a lot left unsaid.” Rose glances at me, an unreadable expression on her face.
“There was nothing more to be said, Rose. She’ll live her life free from the burden of the secret she’s carried all these years and we’ll live ours,” I say, shutting that train of thought down. I’m relieved Emmie’s gone, in all honesty. I didn’t need her here reminding me of the mistakes I made as a kid. As it is her letter burns a hole in my back pocket. I’ve still not read it, don’t think I’ll ever be able to.
“Despite my efforts to persuade her to stay another night, she was determined to get back to her husband,” Ivan explains.
“Okay, I get that.” Rose looks at me, her green eyes fixed on mine. I’d love to know what she’s thinking, but this morning my head is too full of my own frantic thoughts to try and work her out.
Looking away from Ros
e, I glance out of the window. Last night I had gone to Anton’s studio a few hours after they’d left the bedroom. I’d wanted to have my moment with her. But when I’d heard their laughter and the sounds of their lovemaking, I didn’t have the heart to disturb them. Unknowingly or not, I’d already taken Anton’s father away from him. I couldn’t take Rose too. So, I’d returned to my room, locked the door and exercised all night. I’ve not slept at all, and it shows. I’m fucking wired.
Rose finishes her cup of tea, then places it on the floor by her feet. She looks at me, seemingly making her mind up about something.
“Fran has made us all brunch. It should be ready now. Ivan, Anton, will you do me a favour and tell her to keep mine and Erik’s warm, we won’t be joining you.”
“No?” Anton questions, looking between Rose and me.
“No,” she says softly. A look passes between them and Anton nods.
“Okay, Rose. See you later?” he questions, getting up and pulling his hair up into a bun.
“Absolutely,” she smiles, a splash of pink warming her cheeks.
“Then we’ll get out of your hair. I think that’s our cue to leave, Ivan.”
“Right, sure,” Ivan says, jumping up. He slaps me on my shoulder before bending down and pressing a chaste kiss against Rose’s lips.
“I thought they’d never leave,” I mutter, breathing out a sigh of relief as they leave us alone, finally.
“They’re looking out for you, Erik, be grateful for that at least,” she remarks, scolding me.
I flop onto the sofa next to her. “I am grateful, but I’m also fucking wound up like a spinning top, Rose. I’ve not slept a wink…”
“I didn’t realise, you should get some rest,” she says, moving to stand.
“Rest?” I laugh, placing a hand on her arm. “I don’t need rest. I need release.”
She looks at me cocking an eyebrow. “Didn’t you get that yesterday morning, Erik?” she teases.
“That was yesterday, this is today, and that isn’t what I meant,” I retort, a little sharper than intended.
“What do you mean?” she asks, her face expectant, a flicker of excitement and trepidation lighting her meadow-green eyes.
I heave a sigh and pull Emmie’s letter from my back pocket. “This has been burning a hole in my jeans for the last twenty-four hours. I’ve oscillated between wanting to read it and wanting to burn the fucking thing. I can’t do either.”
“You haven’t read it yet?” she asks me.
“No. I’m not sure I want to.”
Rose reaches for my hand, grasping it tightly in hers. “Do you want me to read it to you?”
I look at the letter and shake my head. “No. Emmie wanted me to read it, and whilst I don’t owe her anything, I do owe the boy I once was the apology that’s twenty years too late.”
“Okay.” Rose settles back on the sofa, folds her hands in her lap and waits.
With shaking fingers, I pull out the letter. It feels thin beneath my hand, and when I unfold it, a small tear appears down the centre. For a few seconds I just stare at the unfamiliar handwriting. Seeing words but not taking in any meaning. Then I start to read.
When I get to the end of the letter, I feel surprisingly calm. I don’t feel angry, or sad, or bitter. I feel a strange kind of nothing, and emptiness, I suppose.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Rose asks when a full five minutes have passed after I’ve folded up the letter and slid it back into the envelope.
“There isn’t much to say. This is a letter written by a scared seventeen year old girl. Emmie has apologised, she’s alluded to something underhand, but she hasn’t said anything outright. This letter wouldn’t have changed a thing even if she had posted it back then. It might have given me some closure, but it’s still a letter of half-truths and secrets.”
“Then why give it to you?”
“I suppose she needed closure too. She’s come here and said what she’s needed to say. Now she can return to her life free of the burden whilst we must live with the knowledge.”
“Is it enough to put Ms Hadley, Viktor away?” Rose asks me.
“I don’t think so, no. This is just her word against theirs, and whilst we might have the birth certificate, photograph and a few handwritten letters that Ms Hadley was never able to get rid of, it still doesn’t prove anything. Without a confession, they get away with it.”
“Then we get them to confess somehow…” Rose insists, leaning over and taking my hand in hers.
“That’s easier said than done. Besides, Ms Hadley is in a home for the mentally unstable. Who’s going to believe her even if she did confess?”
“She tried to kill me, Erik. It’s not that much of a stretch…”
“I don’t think it’s that simple,” I sigh, the same frantic kind of uneasiness prickling my skin. “Perhaps we’ll never get justice.”
Standing abruptly, I walk to the open fire and chuck Emmie’s letter into the grate. I watch the paper burn, the flames curling the edges before devouring it, leaving nothing but ash. Placing my hands against the mantelpiece I lean forward, dropping my head. Inside, I’m a storm brewing at the unfairness of it all. Despite Emmie’s confession, despite knowing what they did to Isabelle, to Svetlana, to Rose, nothing is going to change the fact that we have no concrete evidence to prove their guilt.
They’re going to get away with murder, literally.
“Fuck!” I exclaim, a familiar rage unfurling inside me.
“Erik, try to calm down. We’ll figure this out,” Rose says, stepping up beside me. She places her hand on my arm and I flinch at the contact. Not because I don’t want her touch, but because I crave it so much it scares me.
“Don’t!” I snap, rounding on her.
She steps back, a flurry of fear scampering across her face.
“This isn’t a burden you need to carry alone, Erik. We’ll all shoulder it,” she insists, determined not to let me sink into a pit of despair. When I don’t answer, when I can’t answer, Rose continues. “Earlier you said you needed release, Erik. I crave it too.” She holds her wrists out towards me, palms upwards. “I trust you. Find your release, give me mine so we can face this together.” She swallows hard, her throat bobbing. “Whatever the storm brings, I’ll be right there beside you. Even here, right now, if that’s what it takes.”
Before I can even think about what I’m doing, my hands reach for her. Instinctively, I grip onto her wrists. I’ve wanted this for so long. Yesterday had just been a prelude to what was to come, but now I need her full submission, her trust.
“Are you certain?” I ask.
“Never more certain than I am now,” she responds meeting my gaze with a steely determination of her own.
“What’s the safe word?” I ask her, reaching for my side table and pulling open the drawer. Inside is a length of cord. Not as thick as the rope we used in the glass room, but similar in texture and hold.
“Green,” she confirms softly as I wrap the cord around her wrists, securing it tightly.
Turning her away from me I walk her to the bed, my chest pressed against her back. I can already feel the rapid thump of her heart as she waits for further instruction. Pressing a kiss against her neck, I step to the side, climbing onto the bed. Grabbing hold of the other end of rope, I pull her arms above her head, tying the rope to the bedframe. It’s a four poster bed, with curtains either side. Fit for a king, and a queen.
Rose stands before me, her arms stretched above her. She winces slightly at the tautness in her shoulder.
“Too painful?” I ask her.
“No. I’m good.”
Grasping her chin, I force her to look at me. “Paddle, whip or my hand,” I ask.
“Your hand,” she responds instantly, a flush of colour rising up her chest and neck. There’s no fear in her eyes, just acceptance and longing.
“Why do you stay, Rose? All of this, it’s such a mess.”
“I stay because I’m strong eno
ugh. I stay because I understand you better than you understand yourself. I stay because I love you, Erik.”
“Rose…” I cup her face, unable to find the words to truly reflect how I feel about this woman. The ridge of my scar presses against the softness of her cheek and I remember our pact, the vow we made to one another in Ivan’s studio. Pulling my hand away I run a finger over the raised skin. Our eyes meet, and she smiles gently.
“Every time you mark my skin with your hand, that scar will serve as a reminder of our pact, that with pain comes the healing we both need. Pain is fleeting, Erik, but healing, friendship, love; that, that lasts a lifetime.”
“I’m beginning to understand that,” I murmur, pressing a gentle kiss against her mouth.
Moving to stand behind Rose, I press myself against her back. I’m so fucking hard for her. Wrapping my arms around her waist and grasping her breast, I grind against her then lower my mouth to the curve of her neck and bite the tender flesh there. She groans, stretching her head further to the side to give me better access.
“Too many clothes,” I grind out, grabbing the waist of her jeans and undoing the top button and zip. “These are coming off.”
Kneeling behind Rose, I slide her jeans over her hips, pulling her cotton knickers off at the same time. Helping her step out of them, I chuck the offending clothes across the room. But she still has her t-shirt on, and I need her naked.
Grabbing the hem, I rip it from bottom to top. Rose sucks in a sharp breath at the sudden, almost violent action. It’s not fully removed, given her hands are tied above her head, but it satisfies me enough.
“Remember the safe word. It’s sacred and that is what we both obey, understand?” I ask her, knowing full well she does. I’ve seen how she is with Ivan. I’ve witnessed that side to her personality. She knows what it is to be a dominant, and now here with me, she will fully understand what it is to be my submissive.
“I understand, Erik,” she whispers, a heavy dose of lust blanketing us both.
Still on my knees behind her, I press my lips against the globe of her arse and bite her. Enough to make her leap forward, but not enough to draw blood. She sucks in a breath through her teeth at the rush of pain, then sighs as I kiss the little indents on her skin. With me she will only ever slide into pain that is welcomed and not endured. I’m nothing like Roman or the woman who tortured me. Wrapping my arm around her thighs and holding her steady, I twist my body to the side, raise my hand and bring it down on her arse cheek. Colour immediately blooms, and a tiny bit of tension releases within me.
