by Sarah Fine
The wooden chair creaked as Moros sat down. “I tasted your future.”
Excruciating pain shot through her arms and shoulders as she pushed herself up. “Don’t you already know my future?”
He nodded, his usually neat hair now disheveled, his breaths still coming deep and heavy. “But now I have experienced it for myself. Ah, you feel things so deeply, Cacia. The sensation of it . . . Not many people willingly allow me to do that.”
She could certainly understand why. It wasn’t just the physical pain. It was the feeling of being split wide open at the very core of her soul, torn apart, and carelessly glued back together with no regard for where things were supposed to go. She shakily got to her feet, leaning against the door to keep from falling. “Is that all? Have you had enough?”
He stroked a hand lazily down the arm of his chair. “More might permanently damage you.”
“That was really my future?” Right now she wasn’t sure she could endure another minute, let alone a lifetime. But there had been flashes of beauty in all that pain. Moments of ecstasy. It felt far out of reach now, though. “Do I still get to have it?”
He peered down at her, a million secrets glinting in the dark depths of his eyes. “You might.”
“You will keep your promise,” she said, ashamed of the broken, childlike tremor in her voice. The images were subsiding now, fading, like a movie she’d already seen.
Over. It felt like her life was over.
Moros nodded, a tiny smile curling his lips as he lifted his glass once again. “Of course.”
Cacy closed her eyes to keep her tears from falling. “All right.”
It took her a few tries to open the door, but she managed to do it and stumble into the hall. A yawning chasm had opened in her heart, like her life had already been lived without her, like it wasn’t really hers anymore. She wanted to scream, to weep, to hide.
Eli’s face floated in her mind for an instant. She was supposed to meet him soon. But she didn’t want him to see her like this, broken and used, her entire future just a tasty snack, a momentary pleasure, for the Lord of the Kere. It felt like she had nothing new to share anymore, no mystery, no excitement left to offer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Eli sat down at the bar and ordered a soda. He shifted nervously in his seat and told himself for the thousandth time that this was no big deal, that he was simply getting together for dinner with a colleague.
The bartender set a fizzy soda in front of him with a smirk. “You want a straw with that?”
Eli shook his head, gave the guy a sarcastic smile, and waved his phone over the scanner at the edge of the bar to pay. He kept his eyes on the row of bottles in front of him as he drank, but every time he heard the door open, he tensed in anticipation. And every time he realized it wasn’t her, he sagged with disappointment.
The bartender returned and set a glass of clear liquid in front of him. Eli looked up at him in confusion. The bartender nodded toward the other end of the bar. “Courtesy of the lady.”
Eli’s eyes followed the bartender’s and landed on a pretty blonde wearing bright-red lipstick. She winked at him. Eli looked away and pushed the drink toward the bartender. “Unless that’s water, I can’t. I have to be at work in a few hours.”
The bartender looked at him like that was irrelevant. “Buddy, she won’t buy drinks for just anyone.”
Eli’s eyes traveled back to the blonde woman. There was something familiar about her, but he couldn’t place it. She licked her lips and leaned forward over the bar, giving him a view of breasts barely contained by her tight, low-cut shirt. It did nothing for him.
The door to the bar opened and shut again, and this time Eli turned to look. But it wasn’t Cacy. Where was she? Had she decided not to come? Had he been too forward? Too awkward? Had she been afraid he couldn’t take a hint? He suddenly felt stupid for even asking her to meet him. She’d made it clear she didn’t want to get involved with him, so why had he invited her to dinner?
“Because I’m an idiot,” he mumbled, pushing away from the bar and turning to go.
Cacy stumbled out of the back hallway, pale as death, one arm wrapped around her middle, one on the wall to hold herself up. She raised her head, her glassy eyes riveted on the door.
Eli started forward as she lunged through it. He strode after her, but by the time he made it out of the bar, Cacy was gone. He looked up and down the street and into the alleys on either side of the bar, wondering if she’d used that pendant around her neck to disappear into that gray, cold world it contained. “Damn.”
What the hell had happened to her? He stalked back into the bar and looked toward the back hallway. She said she had a business meeting this afternoon. Had she been meeting someone here? A shadow in the doorway of a room at the end of the hall caught his eye. Someone was back there. Someone who’d hurt Cacy. His fists clenched.
As if he’d heard Eli’s thoughts, Jason Moros appeared in the last doorway on the left, leaning casually against the doorframe as Eli strode down the hall. “Are you looking for me, Mr. Margolis?”
Eli’s throat was tight as he opened his mouth to speak. “Were you just meeting with Cacy Ferry?”
“What business is it of yours?” Moros asked, then smiled like he knew the answer.
“Because I just saw her, and she could barely walk.”
Moros shook his head. “She’ll be fine. This business can be cutthroat at times, my friend.” Eli could swear the guy’s eyes flashed red.
Eli took a slow breath, forcing himself to stay calm. “Did you hurt her?”
Moros sighed and held his hands out in a conciliatory gesture. “Mr. Margolis. Why are you still here? Your woman needs you now.”
Eli’s mouth dropped open. “She’s not my—”
Moros stepped forward suddenly, his smile revealing startlingly sharp canines. “Trust me. I know more about her now than she knows about herself.”
Eli ground his teeth at the thought of Moros knowing anything about Cacy, let alone everything. The guy radiated menace. Cacy could handle herself, but Moros seemed like he didn’t play by any rules but his own.
Moros tapped Eli’s chest with a gloved finger. “I’m on your side, Eli. There is more going on here than you understand, but there is one thing you can count on. She. Is. Yours.”
Eli stepped back, his thoughts racing. “She’s the only one who can tell me that.”
“Oh, she told me as much just now. But if you want to hear it from her, you have to go to her.” Moros nodded toward the front door of the bar. “She lives in the Kingston complex. Number 3401.”
Eli turned to look toward the door. If he went to her, would she let him in? Or would she shut him out? He looked over his shoulder to ask Moros how the hell he knew where she lived, but he was gone. Eli slowly turned around and peeked into the room Moros had met Cacy in. Empty. The guy had disappeared. A hard chill went through Eli. What was Cacy involved in?
He jogged down the hall. The blonde from the bar stepped into his path just before he hit the door.
“You didn’t like your drink?” she asked, pouting.
“Thank you for the thought,” Eli said quickly, already trying to edge past her, worried he’d miss the next bus. “I work nights and don’t drink before shifts. Sorry.”
He took a step to the side, but so did she. Then she put a surprisingly warm hand on his chest. “I live close by,” she said softly, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You could make it up to me.” Her nails scraped gently against the fabric of his shirt.
It made his skin crawl. His hand closed over her wrist and pulled it away from him. “I’m already late,” he said firmly.
She smiled. “Your loss.” She turned and walked away, hips swaying, stilettos clicking against the grimy hardwood.
Eli rolled his eyes and turned on his heel, following t
he firm tug deep in his chest. As much as he distrusted Moros, the guy was right about at least one thing. He needed to get to Cacy and make sure she was all right.
The ride to Cacy’s apartment felt longer than the trip from Pittsburgh. He leaped off the bus and pulled his phone from his pocket as the armed guards in front of the building eyed him with suspicion. Cacy’s phone rang and rang. And then switched to voice mail. Eli cursed and tried again, with the same result.
He shoved his phone back in his pocket. The guards didn’t seem like the types to be forthcoming with information. He ran a hand through his hair and looked up at the high-rise.
“Eli Margolis?”
Eli spun around to find Aislin Ferry standing right behind him, holding a shopping bag. “Ms. Ferry. I-I’m—”
“Looking for Cacy?” She gave him a cool smile.
He nodded. “I don’t think she’s feeling well. I just saw her at Bart’s. She was meeting with Jason Moros, but she left the meeting looking . . . bad. I’m worried about her.”
Aislin’s expression tightened. She tucked her arm in his and nodded at the security guards as she led him through the doors of the luxury complex. “Have you been here before?”
Eli looked down at Cacy’s older sister as she walked him through the marble lobby. “No, ma’am.”
She laughed. “Aislin, please.” She came to a stop in front of the elevator and hit the up arrow. “Does she want to see you right now?”
Eli sighed. “Honestly? I’m not sure. But if she wants me to go, I swear I’ll go. I just need to see that she’s all right.”
Aislin’s eyes were so like Dec’s—nearly impossible to read. But her voice was kind as she said, “Judging by her behavior at our father’s funeral, I suspect she wouldn’t mind seeing you.”
The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside. Aislin pressed the button for the thirty-fourth and thirty-fifth floors.
“You live here, too?” Eli asked.
“We all do,” said Aislin. “We own the building.”
Of course they did.
When the door opened at the thirty-fourth floor, Aislin turned to him. “Don’t let her push you away. Even if she tries.” She gave him a gentle shove.
Eli stepped through the elevator doors, which closed immediately. He wasn’t in a hallway as he’d expected—he was in another lobby. And there was only one door. Was Cacy’s apartment the only one on this floor? He rubbed his palms on his jeans and walked up to the door, pressing the viewing screen before he could think better of it. He stood directly in front of the camera lens embedded in the door so she could see it was him. He didn’t know if that made it more or less likely that she would open the door.
From inside, he heard footsteps. Cacy’s face appeared on the screen. “Eli? How did you get in here?” she asked, her voice strained and hoarse. Her eyes were red. It made his chest hurt.
“Let me in, Cacy,” he said softly.
She stared at the screen for a moment, her eyes huge and shiny. The door clicked. He yanked it open and stepped into an airy living space that still managed to be cozy, decorated with warm, lush colors and soft, inviting fabrics. It reminded him of Cacy herself: casual and irreverent, but undeniably classy and entirely unique.
She stood before him wearing a robe, her wet hair tangling over her shoulders like she’d just stepped from the shower. She was looking at him strangely, almost fearfully, like she was frightened of what he might say. Even though every fiber of his being was screaming for him to take her in his arms, he held himself back.
Cacy wiped a stray tear from her face. “I’m going to call in sick to work. Sorry.”
“You don’t have to tell me what happened, but I need you to tell me if you’re okay.”
She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I had to complete some negotiations, and they . . . drained me. You didn’t have to take the bus all the way over here. It’s out of your way.”
She ran a trembling hand across her neck and shuddered, which drew him toward her. “I don’t care about that. I needed to see you.”
She held up her arms. “And now you have, and I’m fine.”
His jaw clenched. “With all due respect, Cacy, you don’t look fine.”
“Eli, I just need to rest. I’ll be back at work tomorrow.” She took a few steps toward the door, like she was about to show him out. “We’ll reschedule our dinner plans then, okay?”
“No. It’s not okay. Not at all.”
Her brow furrowed. “I’m sorry for standing you up.”
“I’m not upset about that—something happened in that meeting with Moros. I don’t know what, but I know things are going on, Cacy. So many things that I don’t understand.” He stepped toward her and grasped her shoulders. “But, see, I don’t care. I only care about you.”
She closed her eyes and put her hands on his chest. “And I don’t want you to have to care about any of it.”
His grip on her arms tightened. “Why?” He suspected he knew, but he needed her to say it. She was protecting him, but from what, he didn’t know.
“It’s not your problem,” she said quietly.
“What if I want it to be?” he snapped, Moros’s words echoing loudly in his mind—she is yours. “What if it is, whether you like it or not?”
“Eli, you don’t understand.”
“Then make me understand, dammit!” he shouted, his patience evaporating under the heat of his frustration. “Tell me how I’m supposed to stay away when all I want is to be close to you. Tell me how I’m supposed to walk out that door when all I want is to hold you. Tell me how I’m not supposed to worry about you when that’s all I can do! Please explain it to me, Cacy, because I’m not getting it.”
She pushed weakly on his chest, so different from her usual fierce way—he would have expected her to punch him, and the fact that she didn’t only worried him more. He took her face in his hands. “Tell me what to do,” he said softly, “because I’m lost. I’m totally in the dark. I’m naive and clueless, but the one thing I’m not is a guy who walks away.”
She laid her cool palms over the backs of his hands. “You’re making this so hard.”
“Good. We’re almost there, then.” He ducked his head until they were nose to nose. “My plan is to make it impossible.”
His lips met hers before he could think better of it. He’d meant to be gentle, but as soon as he tasted her and inhaled her raw, spicy scent, his good intentions were burned to ash. Her fingers curled over his hands, and she made a vulnerable, helpless noise that only fueled the inferno inside him. He crushed her against him as he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue forward to claim her mouth. Her lips parted, letting him in, and her hands traveled to his shoulders.
She wasn’t pushing him away. Not at all. In fact, she was up on her tiptoes, trying to get closer. Everything inside him roared, his blood beating a furious rhythm in his ears. His hand slid to her ass and pressed her hips to his body. The delicious pressure made his hardening cock throb with want. How often had he dreamed of this since meeting her? His fingers spread over one of the soft mounds of her rear, only the thin fabric of her robe separating his skin from hers. Even that was too much.
“Eli,” she gasped as he lowered his head to kiss her neck. “You shouldn’t . . . We shouldn’t . . .”
“Tell me why not,” he murmured against her neck, scraping his teeth along her skin and pushing her robe off her shoulder. Because right now, he couldn’t think of anything he needed more than this, more than the feel of her body, more than the taste of her in his mouth. He needed it more than his next breath, and he suspected she needed it, too, no matter how she was trying to convince him otherwise.
“I . . .” She moaned as his hand closed over her breast, his thumb circling her taut nipple. “Don’t stop.” She pressed her hand over his. “Please don’t stop.”<
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Yes. It was the surrender he wanted. Every cell in his body craved her, that need taking him over. With barely controlled ferocity, he backed her up to the table in her dining area and lifted her, still kissing her breathless. Her robe, hanging from one shoulder, was still tied at her waist, but the silky fabric parted as she spread her legs to allow him to stand between them. His palm skimmed up her thigh until soft curls tickled the tips of his fingers. They inched up further, greeted by the softest, most delectable flesh he’d ever touched, already slick with desire. She smelled incredible, of spice and earth, and he needed to taste her. He needed to claim her.
Slowly he sank to the floor, his tongue tracing the hollow of her throat, the curves of her breasts, the flat expanse of her stomach, all the way down to the ebony curls between her legs. She lay back on the table, and he kissed the inside of her thigh while pushing her legs farther apart, to bare the petal-pink folds of her sex. Something primal shifted and spread its jagged wings inside him, unfurling along his limbs, flowing like liquid steel through his veins. He drew his tongue up the center of her and then thrust it inside, growling with satisfaction as she arched her hips and drew in a shuddering breath. She curled her legs over his shoulders, her fingers gripping the edges of the table. She let out a hitching gasp when his finger circled the mouthwatering nub of her clit, and he kept his eyes on her as he lowered his mouth over it and sucked. Cacy sighed his name and pressed toward him, all resistance gone.
He throbbed with the need to bury his cock inside her. But first he wanted to feel her come, to drive her over the edge. He slowly sank two fingers into her, awed by the tight, silken feel, still drunk with her taste. Cacy let go of the table and clutched at his hair. He followed the rhythm she set for him with the rise and fall of her hips until she arched up, fierce and sudden, every muscle in her body locked, her mouth open in a scream of pure release.
