Bloodstained Beauty

by Ella Fields

  “I do, actually. I’d also like to know why you didn’t say goodbye to me.”

  He took his time answering, and I watched as his shirt lifted higher, exposing the patch of dark hair above his jeans that tempted my fingers to touch. “I had a job in Arizona, but it wasn’t an easy find.”

  Nodding, I waited for him to tell me the rest.

  “And I didn’t say goodbye because I was behaving like a petulant child who couldn’t seem to get his own way.”

  “You weren’t that bad,” I said, drawing out the words.

  “Liar,” he teased, and his slipper-covered foot nudged my bare one. “Can I ask you something?”

  I nudged him back. “Of course.”

  “Your fed, do you miss him too?”

  Oh.

  “Um. Well, honestly”—his leg muscles looked tense as he waited—“since you kissed me that first time in the library, I’ve hardly thought about him.”

  “And you loved him?”

  That had my hackles rising. “I did.”

  His silence told me he thought otherwise, but I ignored it and asked something I’d been curious about since he’d left. “The first time you kissed me, in my car …”

  “He’d bugged your car.”

  “Right.” I didn’t know why I was disappointed when I’d suspected as much already.

  “But Dove?”

  “Hmm?” I stared down at my unpainted toenails.

  “I wanted to, so I guess you could say I took advantage. But that second time I kissed you? It was just because I wanted to do it again.”

  A smile twitched my lips, and my feet swayed as I got lost among the memories, joining all the pieces that once seemed so puzzling together. “That’s why you said not to call you, right?”

  “Right.” A clanking sounded before he said, “I’m curious. What about him lured you into his trap so easily?”

  I wanted to argue that, no, it hadn’t been that easy, but I’d be lying. I’d fucked up and trusted too soon. It was as simple and as complicated as that. “Do you really want to know that?”

  At hearing his words repeated back to him, a low chuckle reached me. “I do, actually.”

  I smiled, but it was quick to fall as I thought of those first few weeks with Milo. “He was just, I don’t know … larger than life. A dream.”

  Thomas snorted. The rare act lifted my lips. “You were enamored.”

  “Enamored?”

  “Yes. Infatuated. Love-struck. Besotted. Enamored.”

  I frowned as that truth sank deep. “I should’ve known it was too good to be true.”

  “You’re not that insecure.”

  “I’m not. It’s just, we were worlds apart from the start. I didn’t question it, just ran right to him. Open. Willing. Foolish.”

  Thomas was quiet for a moment, his body still. Then he murmured, “You might’ve been a job, but he didn’t need to agree to it. He would’ve dissected everything about you before he even muttered a word of commitment.” He made a groaning sound, then cursed, another rare act that I relished. “The guy wanted you. It was a win-win in his eyes.”

  Raising my knees, I leaned forward, peering around the cupboard door. “Want isn’t the same as love though, is it?”

  His arm moved, muscles flexing as he twisted something back into place before carefully slinking out from under the sink. A pile of hair wrapped gunk hit the floor with a splat, followed by a wrench.

  He closed the door and leaned back against it, looking at me. “It’s not, but some might say it can lead to it.”

  Words formed and dried over my tongue as I watched him stand and take the gunk with him to the trash, then wash his hands.

  Kicking the toolbox aside, he stood there a moment, and I could feel his eyes on top of my head, but I didn’t look up. “Can I ask you something?”

  In answer, he held out his hand, and I placed mine in it. His warm skin curled around mine as he effortlessly tugged me from the floor. With his hands framing my face, his eyes bouncing between my own, he waited.

  “I know you said I can leave.” His lashes lowered, then rose as I said, “I don’t want to. Not yet, but I need to call my dad and my sister.”

  After staring at me for the longest time, he pressed his lips to my forehead, then stepped back, collected the wrench and toolbox, and set a phone on the countertop.

  I tucked my lips between my teeth to contain my spreading smile and swiped at the tear about to roll down my cheek.

  “I got your text. I’m glad the rain let up.”

  Puzzled, I was about to ask what he was talking about, then remembered.

  My phone. Thomas probably had it.

  “How’s Cora?” he continued.

  Cora? “Um, good,” I said, pacing the rug in slow strides. Seeing as I didn’t know anyone named Cora, I ditched the subject. “So I know you won’t want to hear this, but …” A smile stretched my face and tinged my voice. “I kind of met someone.”

  Dad’s silence made my heart pound and my feet stop moving. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?” He puffed out a rough breath. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

  Peering out the opened door of my bedroom to the bronze lit shadows beyond, I continued to smile. “I think I’ve been ready for him for a long time, but I just needed life to mess everything up first.”

  Dad laughed. “And this guy, he’s a friend of Cora’s?”

  Walking to the window seat, I moved the curtains aside. The silver moon lined the treetops, and I could picture my dad in the two-story farmhouse on the other side of those trees, drinking his second cup of tea for the night on his recliner in front of the TV.

  “No, he’s from home, actually.”

  Dad yawned. “Well, I hope to God this one has more manners and respect, that’s all I can say.” He grumbled something about Milo beneath his breath, then sighed. “But you already know …”

  “You won’t think any man is good enough.” I laughed. “I know.”

  His smile was evident in his voice as he said, “You were always too sweet for the average Joe. When are you coming home?”

  Knowing what I knew now, about Mom’s affair, I wanted to run through the woods and squeeze him in a hug. But the need to respect his wishes overruled the urge, no matter how much it hurt.

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “But I’ll call you once I figure it out.”

  “Make sure you do. And bring this new fella around. I need an excuse to polish my guns again.”

  Laughing, I said, “Love you, Daddy. Good night.”

  “Good night, Jemmie.”

  I hung up, then stared at the screen saver on Thomas’s phone. It was a picture of Lou Lou from earlier this year. She was dressed up as a lion for book week, tiny ears sitting atop a headband on her head, and whiskers painted on her cheeks.

  As I tried to remember my sister’s number, I briefly wondered about what kind of things I’d find on the phone in my hand. Shaking my head, I gave it my best guess and pressed the phone to my ear again. He wouldn’t keep anything incriminating anyway.

  “Hello?” my sister’s confused voice sounded.

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  She seemed to be checking the number. “Did you get a new phone?”

  I’d called the house phone to speak to Dad, and so he wasn’t able to see where I was calling from. I didn’t think about that with Hope and inwardly kicked myself. “No, it’s charging. I’m staying with a friend, and I’m using hers.”

  “You’re staying with a friend.”

  “Uh-huh,” I steered the conversation forward. “How are you? How are the boys?”

  “Being little turds, but good. What friend are you staying with?”

  Shit. “Cora, from school.”

  “I don’t remember a Cora.”

  Double shit. “She started after you’d already graduated.”

  My eyes clenched shut until Hope said, “Okay, then. So what are you guys doing?”

  “Uh, shop
ping and stuff. Mainly just hanging out.”

  She guffawed. “Cut the shit, Jemima. You hardly ever speak to your old friends, and you only shop when you need things or books. Where are you, and why lie?”

  What to say, what to say, what to say.

  I settled on being as honest as possible. “Remember that guy I was telling you about?”

  “The weird one?”

  I frowned. “He’s not …” I exhaled a loud breath. “Okay, yeah. That one.”

  I waited for her to come to her own conclusions, knowing that would be the easiest way to deal with this. “You’ve been with him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you didn’t tell anyone because, why? You felt it was too soon? Or you were scared it’d all blow up again?”

  “Kind of, but there’s more.” I licked my lips, dropping to the window seat. “Have you got time for a long-winded story?”

  “Let me pour a glass of wine.”

  When she was ready, I told her everything. Everything besides Thomas taking me, and what he did for a living.

  After she’d gotten over her shock, she asked, “Who was he investigating?”

  “I don’t know, he wouldn’t say,” I lied.

  “Probably not allowed. Still, what a fucking dick.”

  Smiling, I agreed. Then I told her about what happened to Mom, how it’d involved Thomas’s parents, and made her promise not to tell Dad about it.

  “Yeah,” she said after taking a moment to digest it all. “Better he doesn’t know that we know. He’s obviously kept it from us, thinking it was for our own good and for his.”

  I chewed my thumbnail. “Do you think she would’ve left us?”

  Hope mulled that over for a minute. “I’d like to say she wouldn’t, but when you love someone, you do some crazy shit.” She snarked, “Like letting your husband pretend to be in a relationship with another person for a job, or lying to your family to hide away in a castle in the woods for weeks.”

  I laughed, relishing in how the reminder of what Milo had done no longer pinched.

  “Seriously.” She laughed. “Your life.” Then her voice lowered. “So, is it like, just one giant fuck-fest?”

  “He has a daughter, and no, we’ve … been getting to know each other.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” She hummed. “A bit strange, that you’re with the son of the man Mom couldn’t have. Kinda kinky.” She swallowed some wine. “I like it.”

  “You’re not upset?” I asked with a hint of disbelief.

  “Over Mom?” She scoffed. “I was sad for years, but I’m done being sad. And you know what? I’m glad I didn’t know back then. I would’ve been a lot worse of a teenager, that’s for sure.”

  “So true.”

  “Hey,” she jeered. “Anyway, you can’t skimp on the details. Wait, just send a photo of him.”

  “No, you can meet him and see for yourself.” Apprehension over the idea of Thomas and Hope being in the same room made me rush to say, “One day.”

  “You’re such a bore. Not even a sneaky dick pic—”

  “You’re married,” I hissed.

  “What? I can still look.” She snorted. “Not like Jace doesn’t. Marriage doesn’t make you blind, for Christ’s sake.”

  I let her ramble on a while longer until the silence outside my room grew thicker, and my mind started drifting to the man in the bedroom at the top of the stairs. Then I said I’d call her in a few days and said goodbye.

  Collecting a nightgown and a fresh pair of panties, I traipsed down the hall to the bathroom and showered before arriving at his door with his phone, a bare face, and my nipples beading against the black fabric clinging to my damp body.

  Thomas

  “Eliminated?”

  Sighing, I wrenched back the sheets and tossed pillows aside. “Yes.”

  “Eliminated how?”

  “Brains splattered against the wall and enough evidence to suggest suicide, eliminated. Check the local news for your proof.”

  He coughed. “I see. I’ll wire the rest of the money through now.”

  “Pleasure doing business with you.” I hung up the phone and dumped it into my nightstand drawer.

  The flighty pedophile had sent me on a wild goose chase through the desert, but unfortunately for him, he’d touched the wrong man’s child. Now he was rotting in the hottest depths of hell.

  After showering, I tugged on some briefs and climbed into bed. Not even a second later, a light knock sounded, and I called, “Come in.”

  I watched from where I was lying as she entered the room, shut the door, and set the phone down on the shelf by the window. “Thank you.”

  “Your family is okay?”

  “Dad was fine,” she said, walking with deliberate slowness toward the other side of the bed. “Hope knew something was up, so I gave her half the story.”

  My brow quirked, my eyes falling from hers to her breasts, her nipples hard against the fabric of her nightgown. “Half?”

  “The half that wouldn’t have her calling the cops.” I shifted, my dick at full attention, as her knees hit the bed. “May I?”

  “Never ask, Dove.” I lifted the sheets, exposing my bare chest and thighs. “Always just do.”

  She tucked some hair behind her ear, a timid smile playing on her perfect lips as she spied my tented briefs.

  “It’s summer,” I said with a shrug.

  “And I’ve decided it’s now my favorite season.” Her lust-filled voice caressed the hardest parts of me, her nightgown drooping as she crawled across the bed, exposing the swaying globes of her breasts.

  As soon as she was within reaching distance, I latched onto her upper arms and gently tugged her over me. My hands went to her thighs, smoothing up them to palm her ass, then pushed her panties down until they sat beneath her cheeks. “What was your favorite season before?”

  “Spring,” she murmured, her eyes darkening as she gazed down at me.

  Grabbing the back of her head, I made our lips collide, then rolled her to her back and tore her panties down her legs.

  “Open for me,” I rasped. “Show me your wet flesh.”

  Her knees parted, falling to the bed, her feet rising as she brought her nightgown higher.

  She let me stare, then let me murmur incoherent things to her intimate parts as I toyed with her, my fingers soon drenched in the glistening evidence of her want for me.

  She was a squirming mess by the time my tongue met that swollen little bud, and she exploded, her legs trapping me as I lapped up everything her body felt for me.

  “Tom,” she said between pants.

  I nipped her thigh, then soothed the sting with my lips and tongue, our eyes meeting over her soft stomach. “You’re in here from now on.” Rising, I kicked off my briefs, then motioned for her to come to me in the center of the bed. “Your things in this room, and you in this bed.”

  The breeze billowed the curtains, and an owl called high into the sky, but I couldn’t think, feel, hear, or see anything but her as she lifted the satin barrier over her head, then straddled me.

  “Every night, always,” I said, taking a nipple into my mouth and sucking as I gazed up at her.

  Her eyes were half open, the remnants of her orgasm making her body pliant and her voice husky. “We’ll never sleep.”

  My tongue ran over her neck, over her chin. “We’ll sleep when we’re dead.” I took her lips, hers meeting mine with a hunger that made my heart pound through every limb of my body.

  Her hips rose, her hand reaching between us to squeeze gently before guiding a sinner into heaven.

  “Another word for crazy?”

  I took a sip from the floral teacup, pondering Thomas’s question. “Mental.”

  He hummed. “Not right.”

  I turned the page of my book. “Batty.”

  He made a huffing noise.

  I looked over at him, a smile teasing my lips. “Unhinged.”

  His eyes blazed. “Perfect.”


  Watching as he scrawled the word in his journal, then bit the end of his pen, I took another sip of tea and returned my attention to the book in my lap.

  It’d been two weeks since I’d moved into Thomas’s room. Two weeks of sleepless nights followed by lazy days spent with him and Lou. Some days, like today, spent with only him. We slept in late and without fail, every morning, he’d tighten his arms around me and whisper the same sleep coated words, “My Dove.”

  I’d never felt more cherished, more loved without any whisper of the word, and more at peace. As though life had tossed and turned me into this woman who was prepared to take on the task of loving a man most would run screaming from.

  Yet it didn’t feel like a task at all. It felt as natural as breathing.

  Thomas was a paradox.

  Benevolent tenderness oozed from his heart even as blood and violence tainted his soul.

  Never would I have thought the combination could mix. Or that it’d make any sense.

  But it did.

  He did.

  Thomas Verrone made perfect sense to me.

  His phone broke the spell of my thoughts, and he fumbled blindly for it in his jeans pocket while trying to finish whatever it was he’d been writing that morning.

  “What is it?” The widening of his eyes had my hand pausing as it carried the tea cup back to the side table.

  “How the hell can someone steal a six-year-old from a party?”

  With a crash I barely heard, the tea fell from my hands, splashing onto the rug and pooling around the shattered porcelain.

  Thomas didn’t seem to notice, and instead, he was pacing the room, his journal and pen discarded on the floor. “No, just get back here. Now.”

  He hung up and went to leave the room, and with my heart stuck on pause, I choked out, “Lou?”

  Murry, wanting to give Thomas and me time alone, had taken her to Rosie’s birthday party. Murry couldn’t be seen in public, not with a price tag on his head, but he’d dropped her off and said he’d watch her walk in and wait out front.

  “Taken,” Thomas clipped, then disappeared down the hall.

  Wanting to go after him, to reassure him she’d be okay, I tried to force my limbs to move.