The Erotic Light

by Nina Lane

  She leaned forward, watching a massive float pass beneath the window. A masked tiger lunged from a grove of trees, his sharp teeth bared in a growl. Costumed riders waved and danced, tossing necklaces, cups, candy, and toys at the shouting crowd.

  “Lydia.” Kruin’s voice broke the silence, like a thundercloud above the noise.

  She rose and went to the door, snapping her arm away from him when he reached for it. Displeasure crossed his broad features, but he didn’t move to touch her again. Preston preceded them down the stairs to the street.

  As the crowd closed around them again, she felt Kruin’s big hand tighten around her upper arm. This time, she let him touch her out of a sheer need to feel a solid presence amongst the chaos. He steered her through the mass of people, moving closer behind her until she almost felt his muscular body pressing against her back.

  Ahead of her, Preston stopped as another float turned the corner and the spectators went wild at the sight of the massive elephant moving toward them.

  “Have faith,” Kruin said, his voice now a low rumble against Lydia’s ear.

  Shock bolted through her. She tried to turn and look at him, but he increased the pressure of his grip and continued steering her after Preston. Lydia’s heart began to pound anew—not just from the frenzied revelries, but from Kruin’s words.

  Have faith in what? Herself? Him? Why? And, more importantly, how?

  Preston stopped again in front of her, his shoulders lined with tension. A sweat mark dampened the back of his shirt. He turned his head, and she caught the hard ridge of his profile, his creased forehead and narrowed eyes. Shiny beads and necklaces rained down from the passing float. Shrieks thundered in the air.

  Kruin yanked Lydia backward with a sudden movement that caught her off-balance. Fear speared through her. Another shower of throws fell from the sky. The crowd surged as people screamed and scrambled to get the cheap treasures. A wall of people closed between Lydia and Preston.

  And then, to her utter shock, Kruin gave her an order.

  “Run.”

  Run? Run where? And to whom?

  Lydia instinctively darted forward in Preston’s direction, but Kruin still had an ironclad grip on her arm. Panicked, she felt him pulling her in the opposite direction. And because she was no match for his strength, she stumbled and began to follow him. Kruin shoved his way like a bulldozer through the crowd, and people automatically parted to give him room.

  Dizziness washed over Lydia. She followed Kruin blindly, having no choice, her flat-soled shoes slamming against the pavement. Hot air stuck in her throat. Black spots swam before her eyes. The only thing she became certain of was the permanence of Kruin’s grip on her arm, the knowledge that he wouldn’t, at the very least, abandon her to the frenzy of the crowd.

  She had no idea how long they ran, darting in front of floats, slipping on fallen beads and necklaces, pushing through the swarm of people as if they were running for their lives.

  And then, through the fog of confusion, fear, and shock that had descended over Lydia, the strange thought emerged that, perhaps, they were.

  No. Kruin had beat Gabriel senseless before her very eyes. He’d proven his loyalty to Preston, proven that he was—

  “Here.” Kruin yanked open a narrow door at the side of a squalid bar blinking with neon signs. He pushed her inside ahead of him. “Go.”

  The door slammed shut behind her. Panting, Lydia staggered up the stairs, her lungs aching, sweat dripping down her neck. She came to another door at the landing and turned, expecting to see Kruin behind her. But he was gone.

  Lydia tried the doorknob, and it turned under her hand. She pushed the door open and stumbled inside, trying to get her bearings in the stillness and solitude. The noise of the street still thundered around her, but it was muted and less oppressive here.

  She took a breath, wiping sweat from her forehead. She cast a glance around the spare room, which contained only a table and a narrow bed with…

  Her heart almost stopped.

  A shadow detached itself from the wall and approached her. When he came into the light, she gave a cry of shock, bringing a hand to her mouth.

  Gabriel’s face was bruised, his eye black and swollen, his lip split. But he was very much alive.

  She thought. Her mind had been stretched to breaking point in recent months, so at this point Lydia doubted very much her own sanity.

  But he stopped right in front of her, and it was definitely Gabriel’s green eyes gazing at her with all the tenderness she so cherished, and he looked solid and real…

  Hardly daring to breathe, Lydia reached out a hand and placed it on his chest. He felt solid and real too, all warm, hard muscles beneath his T-shirt. And he was breathing. She felt the movement of his chest beneath her palm. She saw the pulse in his neck, the evidence of his still-beating heart.

  After what seemed like an eternity as Lydia wrestled with the question of her lucidity, she mustered the courage to lift her gaze to his. He was watching her, his gaze steady on her face.

  “Are you all right?” he asked gently.

  “I…” Lydia swallowed past the tightness constricting her throat at the sound of his warm, deep voice. “I don’t know.”

  “We had to make Preston think I was dead.” Gabriel lifted his hand and placed it on the side of her neck. “And you had to think it was real too.”

  “It was real. The beating…”

  “Yes.” Gabriel’s mouth twisted. “I told Kruin he had to do it. Remember that he was Preston’s bodyguard once. Preston knows exactly how Kruin fights, and he’d have known if Kruin was purposely going easy on me. So it had to be real. Preston had to think that Kruin’s loyalty was unshakeable.”

  “But… but why?”

  “Because Kruin knew Preston planned to take you back to your parents and convince them he wanted to care for you,” Gabriel explained. “And if you thought I was dead, we hoped that you would simply agree.”

  “Why did you want me to agree?”

  “Your parents now think you’re with Preston,” Gabriel said. “He’s the one your father will go after if something happens or gets leaked to the press. And though Preston has a lot of power, without you, me, or Kruin there, he’ll be subject to far more intense scrutiny and investigation. And he might very well not be able to withstand it.”

  Lydia shook her head. “Preston can squirm his way out of anything.”

  Gabriel shrugged. “Even if he does, he’ll still think I’m dead and that you’re lost to him forever.”

  “Why will he think I’m lost to him?”

  “Kruin is going to tell him you’re gone, that you ran away into the crowd. And while Preston might move heaven and earth to try and find you, I promise that he never will.”

  “How can you make such a promise?”

  Gabriel smiled his beautiful, warm smile that filled Lydia’s heart with pleasure and hope.

  “Because you and I,” he said, bending to brush his lips against hers, “are going to disappear together.”

  Stars dotted the sky like knife tips piercing black velvet. Dawn was barely beginning to paint the horizon with a streak of pale grey. The air smelled of salt and fish, and a cold wind blew across the surface of the Mississippi.

  Lydia huddled deeper into her jacket, pushing her hands into her pockets. She watched several men readying an eighty-foot-long shrimp boat. Baskets were stacked along the dock, and two men hefted bags of ice and extra fuel onto the boat. The boom and nets rose like flagstaffs against the darkness.

  Gabriel and Kruin stood near the trawler, deep in conversation. Lydia watched them, her heart still wary, unwilling to fully believe or accept what had happened. That they truly had rescued her from Preston’s cruel grip.

  Even now, she glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to see Preston storming toward her, his blue eyes hot with rage. She shivered, wondering if she would ever feel warm again.

  Kruin reached into his jacket and removed a thick enve
lope, which he handed to Gabriel. Gabriel glanced at the contents and gave a short nod. After another few words, the two men exchanged a firm handshake.

  Gabriel approached Lydia. Her heart eased a bit as he neared, all warm masculinity and potent heat.

  “What did he give you?” she asked, skirting her gaze to where Kruin now stood speaking to the boat captain. She still couldn’t get her mind around what he had done to Gabriel, not even for her sake.

  “Our new identities,” Gabriel said.

  Lydia swung her gaze back to him. “What?”

  He smiled and handed her some papers and a passport from the envelope. Lydia opened the passport and stared at a picture of herself, alongside the name Jill Smith.

  “Jill Smith?”

  “Your new name.”

  “What happened to Jane Worthington?”

  “As far as anyone knows, she’s still living somewhere in Louisiana with Preston Severine,” Gabriel said. “And if she can’t be found, he’s the one who will be subject to an intense investigation. I guarantee you that not even Preston can weasel his way out of that.”

  Lydia closed the passport. A very faint hope began to lighten the darkness inside her. “What’s your name?” she asked.

  Gabriel handed her his passport. Lydia opened it to read Jack Smith. For the first time in what seemed like years, she laughed with genuine amusement.

  “Jack and Jill?”

  Gabriel smiled, his eyes twinkling. “I’m happy to go up a hill and fetch a pail of water, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to fall down and break my crown.”

  “If you do, I’ll come tumbling after,” Lydia assured him.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “You will?”

  “I’ve already tumbled hard for you. No reason to stop now.”

  Gabriel’s smile widened before he leaned in to kiss her.

  “Likewise,” he murmured.

  Again, that feeling of warm pleasure spread through Lydia’s blood. When they separated, Gabriel bent to pick up the valise that rested at her feet.

  “I’ll bring this on board,” he said. “The captain said we should be able to leave within fifteen minutes or so. I’ll make sure our quarters are ready.”

  He went toward the boat. Lydia looked at Kruin, who still stood speaking to the captain. When the man left, Lydia took a deep breath and approached Kruin. Her belly tightened with anxiety, but she straightened her spine and lifted her head to look him in the eye.

  His features were implacable, his blade-sharp cheekbones dusted with whiskers, his mouth a narrow slash. Not a pinpoint of light shone in his black eyes, and yet something in his expression softened as he looked at her. Whatever that emotion was, it gave Lydia to courage to speak.

  “This wasn’t easy,” she said.

  “No. Forgive me. I had to hurt him.”

  “I know. He told me.” Lydia gave him a half-smile. “It certainly worked. I believed it. So did Preston.”

  “He had to. That was critical to the success of the whole plan.”

  “You won’t mind if I don’t thank you for beating Gabriel, though.”

  A smile cracked his face, showing a glint of white teeth. “I don’t expect you to.”

  Lydia had once thought she would never understand him and yet, in that instant, she realized she had always been right about him. She had always believed that, though he was strong and powerful, he was safe, protective, a man who would never allow her to come to harm. Her instincts had been right.

  “You’re the most enigmatic man I’ve ever met, Kruin,” she admitted. “I’ll never meet anyone like you again, I know that.”

  “Good. I hope you don’t.”

  “Really?” Lydia tilted her head as she regarded him. “Why not?”

  “So that you don’t forget me.”

  Something loosened inside her, a knot unraveling.

  “I’ll never forget you, Kruin,” she said. “I can’t. I’m… I want to…”

  He shook his head, as if knowing she was struggling to thank him for everything else he had done. “It’s almost time for you to leave.”

  “You’re not coming with us?”

  “No. It’s safer if we part here. Less chance of discovery if we’re not together.”

  “But where will you go?” Lydia asked. “What will you do?”

  Kruin looked at her for a moment, then put his large hand against her cheek. His palm was surprisingly warm, almost tender, and Lydia instinctively turned her face into his touch.

  “Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I can take care of myself.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Lydia murmured.

  He let her go and tilted his head to the boat. “Go.”

  Lydia stood on tiptoe and impulsively kissed his cheek before turning and hurrying to the boat. One of the crewmen helped her aboard as the engines started and the boat began to pull away from the dock. Gabriel came to stand beside Lydia, tucking her into the crook of his arm.

  The sun peeked over the horizon as the boat moved toward the center of the river, sweeping along with the current. Lydia turned to look at Kruin, who remained standing on the dock, his big, solid frame appearing immoveable as a mountain. He caught her gaze and lifted one hand in farewell.

  Lydia waved in return, her heart constricting at the thought of never seeing him again. She moved closer to Gabriel and turned back to watch the boat gliding over the river. When she glanced over her shoulder at the docks one last time, Kruin was gone.

  Gabriel pressed his lips to the top of her head. “I once told you that there are places in the world where you would be free. Now I’m going to prove it.”

  Lydia tucked her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. He tightened his hold on her. As the boat picked up speed and continued south along the river toward the open expanse of the ocean, a wave of undiluted hope spread through Lydia’s entire being.

  Though almost foreign in sensation—for when was the last time she had felt true hope?—Lydia would come to learn over the next few years that hope was a precious, essential seed. A seed that would flourish in a coastal South American town where beaches ran like a vein of gold between sleepy fishing villages.

  In years to come, there would be bright outdoor cafes, lanterns illuminating the night, cerulean ocean waters, and the lingering scent of jasmine. There would be jungle adventures, fire pits, and many odd jobs working in restaurants, marketplaces, and on fishing boats. There would be sweet, fresh coconut milk, fish that tasted like the sea, festive parties with guitar music and dancing barefoot on the beach.

  And there would always be Gabriel, a man whom she would forever long to please, with his gentle green eyes and sometimes wicked commands. Her hopes and wishes would flower beneath her willingness to do whatever he asked of her, whatever he ordered, because she knew that she could risk anything with him. She knew she could surrender unreservedly to the part of her that still longed to be controlled, to submit.

  With Gabriel, Lydia’s submission would take on a heady new sensibility because her belief that he would keep her safe would be proven over and over again. And though she would love the beauty of their untroubled bohemian life amidst azure seas and glimmering beaches, Lydia would come to realize that happiness was inevitable no matter where she and Gabriel lived.

  Because with him alone, she would always be free.

  EPILOGUE

  A THOUSAND CURSES split through Preston Severine’s head. His blood boiled with rage. The detritus of the Carnival parade swept over the street as workers moved past with garbage cans and brooms. Preston kicked a strand of beads lying in the gutter. He clenched his hands so tightly his fingernails dug into his palms.

  It was a lie. That fucking Kruin had lied to him. Preston knew in his gut that something else had happened, that somehow his beloved Lydia had escaped the net he’d so carefully spread out for her. And now all his plans for their future together were shot to hell.

  A pulse pounded in his neck. He shook his head
, trying to clear his brain as he got into his Lexus and sped through the narrow streets out of the city.

  Though a red haze of rage coated his vision and his mind, he had one crystal-clear thought. He would get her back. Wherever she was, whatever she was doing, he would find Lydia and bring her back where she belonged.

  With him.

  He plotted darkly as he drove. He would be less lenient with her the next time around. He would have to remind her not only of the consequences of disobedience, but of her silly attempt to thwart him. Because, of course, no one thwarted Preston Severine and got away with it. No one made a fool of him. No one controlled him.

  Ever.

  The little bitch would pay, and so would her cohorts, for Preston was not only suspicious of Kruin’s story but of what he might have done with Gabriel. The bastards thought they could deceive and manipulate him? He’d prove not only how wrong they were, but that the reaches of his power knew no bounds. They would pay. All three of them.

  Several hours later, his anger still simmered hot as he drove up to the mansion at La Nouvelle Vie. He parked the car and stalked up the steps. He had plans to make, details to organize, things to set in motion.

  After tossing his suit jacket aside, he strode into the foyer with the air of a king returning to his castle. Then he stopped.

  A woman was coming down the wide, oak staircase. Clad in a pale-blue silk wrap dress that hugged her curvaceous body, she walked with a slow, languid stride. Her long, shapely legs were exposed by the knee-length hem, and she wore strapped stilettos that matched her dress. Her classically beautiful features were artfully enhanced with cosmetics, her butter-yellow hair smoothed into a patrician French twist.

  Preston could only stare at her. A sudden, icy terror prickled every inch of his skin and froze him to the spot.

  The woman stopped on the bottom stair and smiled at him—a smile so easy and lovely that it would make any man fall groveling at her elegant feet. But in contrast, a hard, calculating glint lit in her blue eyes as her gaze swept Preston from head to toe.