“Nothing that didn’t need to happen.” Curling my hand around the smooth ball of the cane, I ordered, “Hook him up to the defib. Have one of your men sit beside him. The moment he shows signs of falling asleep, zap him. I want him to stay awake until I say so, got it?”
The leader nodded respectfully with a fair dose of wariness. “Consider it done.”
With the help of my cane, I limped toward Eleanor. Her skin puckered with goosebumps, and even in a drugged sleep, she shivered.
Unlike her nakedness, I still wore my clothing, fully aware that we weren’t in the tropics and even a heated house was not warm enough for long stints of nudity.
She needs a bed and covers.
Now.
Drake let out a guttural groan.
I narrowed my gaze, looking his way as he swayed and jerked as if something gnawed his bones. The mercenaries swallowed hard as more blood gushed from his ears, staining the sides of his face with crimson.
For hardened criminals with the taste of delivering death, they seemed unsettled with Drake’s condition. Afraid of a man who seemed intact, yet his brain dribbled over his shoulders like treacle.
“I do expect him to stay awake.” My voice resembled a drill, slow and merciless, puncturing their concerned fascination. “If you allow him to sleep, I will not be kind with my displeasure.”
Radcliffe, the leader of this merry band of murderers, nodded. “He will be kept awake. You have my word.”
“Good.” Pointing at the ancient armoire tucked against the wall, I ordered, “Inside you’ll find a blanket. Bring it to me.”
One of the men shot into action, ripping open the cupboard and pulling free a thick silver blanket. Carrying it to me, he waited while I did my best to duck and drape it over Eleanor.
I struggled with pain threatening to send me under again and the agonising need to protect her. I couldn’t bend. Couldn’t crouch. Couldn’t do a goddamn fucking thing.
Cursing my broken leg, hating my limited mobility, I eyed the men.
Goddammit.
I wanted to be the one to carry her to bed. I needed to be that man. To still show strength even in the shadow of my death. To hold her weight and cradle her while she slept. But...carrying her up the flight of marble stairs was an impossibility. Even climbing them myself wasn’t going to be doable.
Sighing hard, I pinched the bridge of my nose, doing my best to squeeze out the poisonous weakness inside me. “Someone will need to carry her.”
“I’ll do it.” Radcliffe volunteered, striding quickly as if understanding how fucking gut-wrenching this was for me. How much I wished I wasn’t a goddamn cripple.
Without a word, he tucked the blanket around her and scooped her naked form from the carpet. I ensured no part of her skin touched his and the blanket protected her decency before nodding stiffly. “A guest room is on this floor, toward the back of the house. Follow me.”
He nodded, waiting for me to hobble back to Drake and scoop up the abandoned cell phone beside him.
Drake mumbled something incoherent as another gush of blood dribbled out of his nose. He jerked as if something mauled him, followed by a thin scream. He trembled and hyperventilated, looking every bit a pitiful prey.
Enjoy your evening, brother.
Turning my back on him, I led the leader with Eleanor in his arms through the maze of wide artwork-adorned corridors. My pace was slow and laborious. My nervous system no longer able to ignore the shards of agony in my leg, ankle, and foot. The flesh wound from the harpoon had been demoted in terms of pain, and the consuming ache from broken bones made me snappish with fresh fury.
I wanted to be there when Eleanor woke.
I wanted to kiss her and love her and say goodbye without sweating with pain. I needed her one last time, and I’d be fucked if I let her remember sleeping with a broken man instead of the monster she’d fallen for.
“Tell one of your men to bring all the painkillers available in the house. Mrs. Bixel will show you where they are.”
“Of course,” the leader murmured, following me into the large guest suite decorated in muted blues and greys. The large king bed with its carved white headboard, looked out to the snow-dusted gardens. A sculpture of swans caught the moonlight. Snowflakes glittered like fallen stars from the heavens, catching in the deck lights.
“Place her on the bed.”
The mercenary did as I asked, lowering her carefully in the bundled blanket. Only once her weight had been completely transferred to the mattress did he let go and back away. “I’ll bring the painkillers as requested and keep Drake Sinclair awake. Is there anything else?”
I wobbled, clutching my cane for support. “No. Mrs. Bixel will arrange breakfast. For the rest of the night, I wish to be undisturbed with Ms. Grace.” I swallowed back another wash of pain. “I appreciate your meticulous work, Radcliffe.”
He bowed. “Appreciate the business, Sinclair.” Heading to the exit, he wrapped his hand around the doorknob. He looked over his shoulder, adding, “If you require protection for...” His gaze skittered to Eleanor before settling on back on mine. “You can set up a contract with us for a lifetime of cover, whether or not you are around.”
I hid my sneer. “That obvious, huh?” If the mercenary could taste my death, it meant I didn’t have much longer.
He shrugged. “Been in this business long enough to recognise the end.”
Hopping toward the bed, I nodded. “Keep her safe and do what she asks. Her word is your new law.”
“We’ll do whatever she asks and protect her at all costs.”
I hadn’t intended on gifting Eleanor an entire team of hired killers, but who better to keep her safe after I died? They would return her safely to Goddess Isles. They would do what I could not and ensure she went home.
Home.
Christ, I missed my sand, my sea, my sunshine.
The only way I’d be going home was in a body bag.
Shaking off my stinking self-pity, I caught his shrewd stare and cocked my chin at the door. “Thank you for your loyalty. My lawyer will be in touch.”
“Sleep well, Sinclair.” He left and closed the door.
The moment he was gone, I collapsed onto the mattress and pinched the bridge of my nose again. This time I added nails, driving into the cartilage, causing more pain because I had no way of bleeding out the agony.
Fuck!
Drake was dealt with.
Eleanor was safe.
My animals were safe.
Our future could’ve been...happy.
Rubbing my eyes, I removed my lenses and earbuds from Euphoria then repeated the process and freed Eleanor from hers. Looking at her, so vulnerable and worn out, I fought the indescribable urge to crawl under the blanket and hold her.
Happy.
I’d wanted that.
I’d wanted her to teach me how to embrace joy instead of justice.
But after what I’d done to Drake. And what I’d done to purchased women and rented souls... I doubted I’d ever see her again.
Certainly not in heaven and definitely not in reincarnation—if such realms existed. She was destined for wings. Either as an angel or as a bird—free to soar the skies.
Me?
I was destined for hellfire or the life of a creature that had to creep and crawl.
Stroking the delicate contour of her cheek, I sighed. I wish I deserved you.
Shadows crept over my vision, whispering of sleep and rest. My fingers tingled from touching her, the never-ending hum of our bond.
It would be so easy to slip. To sleep and gather my strength beside her, so I could say my physical goodbye, but...I still had one last thing to do before I could allow myself any final indulgences.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I pulled up a new email and typed:
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: New Will and Testament.
To Elliot,
It
seems I have need of updating my Will and Testament. Please amend the bulk of my fortune to be gifted between Ms. Eleanor Grace and Mr. Calvin Moor. My islands are to be bequeathed to Ms. Eleanor Grace. Sinclair and Sinclair Group to Mr. Calvin Moor. The animal charities I have already donated to will receive fifteen percent of everything with the remaining stocks, shares, and savings to be split equally between the two individuals mentioned.
Ownership of my two caiques, Skittles and Pika, are hereby transferred to Ms. Eleanor Grace.
Please also include amendments to ensure Mr. Calvin Moor makes a two-million-dollar donation to Jessica Townsend, if she survives.
Please accept these new conditions as they are made while I am of sound body and mind.
Thank you for your services throughout the years.
Yours sincerely,
Sullivan Sinclair.
I pressed send.
Standing, I stripped my clothing, keeping my grunts of agony as quiet as I could.
Only once I was naked did I let down my guards and allow exhaustion to find me.
With the heaviest sigh of a man saying goodbye to everything he’d hoped to be worthy of, I slipped under the blanket and pulled Eleanor close.
I kissed her hair.
I inhaled her orchid and island scent.
I loved her.
I missed her.
I slept.
Chapter Eleven
I OPENED MY EYES.
No villa rafters or Skittles.
No muggy heat or soft waves.
Where am I?
I blinked and looked around the room. A large space with wraparound doors leading to an expansive deck. Light grey walls, whitewash blue drapes, and a pressed steel ceiling glittering silver in the moonlight.
Snow fell.
As it blanketed the world, it reminded me we weren’t in the tropics one icy flake at a time.
I shivered as a breeze slipped over my skin.
So that was what woke me.
A chill.
No, not just a chill...the removal of a large comforting presence who’d held me while I’d slept.
Sully.
My heart stuttered and rejoiced. Energy gathered to throw myself across the mattress and hug him.
But...I stilled.
My heart hiccupped and mourned. I lay in the shadows and drank in the man who’d bought me, broke me, and set me free. A man I would love for eternity...through thick or thin, rich or poor, sickness or health. A man who looked as if he was about to test that last promise and see if was strong enough to hold on to him.
Instincts had been given to all creatures, wild and domestic, to keep them alive. A sixth sense that whispered all wasn’t well, even if your eyes and ears told you otherwise.
Those instincts yelled too loudly now.
Sully was alive. My eyes told me so.
But...something had happened.
Something he couldn’t undo, and I couldn’t stop.
A new enemy neither of us could fight.
He sat on the edge of the bed in the snow-cast moonlight, his nakedness revealing so many mottled and marred bruises. His spine bowed, his torso a patchwork of cuts, scrapes, and punishments at the hands of Drake.
I gasped at what he’d lived through.
I wept for every talisman of pain he wore and the utter defeat of his rolled, sculptured shoulders. This wasn’t the same man who’d stood high on his sandy throne and couldn’t take his eyes off me as I’d arrived on his islands. This wasn’t the same mogul who’d yanked me from a bath and kissed me as if he’d die from not taking me.
This wasn’t Sullivan Sinclair—the perfect puzzle piece to my soul—who’d made love to me in Nirvana and sat beside me while two parrots completed our chosen family.
He’s a hologram.
A living, breathing man quickly fading into a flickering, disappearing mirage.
No.
I won’t let it.
I refuse.
Pushing onto my hands and knees, I went to him. I crawled across the bed with the large blanket still draped over me and kneeled beside him. “Sully...”
He shuddered as his head tilted to face me. His blue eyes rose. Our gazes locked. He gave me a heartbreakingly tender smile. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
I didn’t answer.
I couldn’t.
Words formed a plug in my throat. Apologies and affirmations, violence and vows. I wanted to thank him for saving me, ask how he’d entered Euphoria, how he’d freed me and stopped elixir from killing me, and just how it’d come to pass that he was here, sitting on a bed with me in Switzerland when the last time I’d seen him, he’d been plummeting to the unforgiving sea below.
I wanted to demand to know what he’d done to make him so despairing.
I needed to scream at him.
I needed to love him.
So many things.
Too many things.
So...I ignored it all.
I focused on the only important part...us...and snuggled close to put my head on his shoulder.
He sighed heavily, his chin tilting to kiss the top of my hair. His body shuddered and his voice held a thousand daggers. “Fuck, I love you, Eleanor...the greatest jinx of my life.”
Fresh tears mixed with old. I nuzzled into his throat and kissed him.
His skin was cooler than I was used to, thanks to the missing heat of his Goddess Isles. He tasted salty and stale, as if he hadn’t had a shower since being plucked from the ocean and flying to find me.
I wanted to suggest a warm bath. To soak away the many bruises painting him and wash away his harsh misery, but my attention fell to his leg, and my insides clenched in a vice.
His stitched thigh looked angry and once again infected. His flesh was swollen and so much redder than the rest of him. Bumps and new contusions hinted he’d been hurt in his fall to the sea. Hurt enough to drain him of his final brutal reserves.
He inhaled, spreading his chest, revealing his tanned torso and powerful muscles slipping beneath pained skin. He looked pinched and at max exertion—an athlete who’d kept racing, even if it meant consuming his own body mass to convert fuel into energy.
“You need to eat,” I murmured, lifting my head off his shoulder. “And you need to see a doctor.”
He chuckled quietly, opening his palm that sat between his spread thighs. “I’m my own doctor tonight.”
I sucked in a breath.
A handful of pills had jumbled together. Some with white casings, some with blue. Round and oval, gel capsules and dissoluble. My gaze skittered to the bedside table and the numerous empty bottles of painkillers scattered there.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he whispered as he ran his thumb over the small apothecary he’d formed in his palm. “I’d hoped I could consume these and have them kick in before you did.”
“You can’t take that many, Sully. Your system won’t handle it.”
“My system?” He laughed under his breath. “My system can’t handle much these days.” Wiping his mouth with the back of his other hand, he continued staring at the drugs, a deliberation weighing on him.
I tried to claim them, to scoop them from his palm. “Let’s call a doctor. They’ll give you antibiotics for your wounds; they’ll give you a stronger painkiller than those you can find in a bottle.”
He jerked his hand away, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t have the time for that, my darling Jinx.”
Icy dread skated down my spine. “What do you mean?”
“I mean...” His vibrant sapphire gaze met mine. “I’m in pain, and I want that pain to go away.”
Flickering images of the monster he’d been in Euphoria came and went. His pupils had been snake slits then. His handsome face fanged and scaled.
He’d been invincible.
And I had absolutely no doubt he’d won against Drake. He’d faced his brother in a realm of his own making and he’d come out an only child.
I didn’t need him to confi
rm that he was the victor. I felt it. I felt it in the peace he held and also the emptiness. I saw it in his eyes—the acceptance of finally ending a lifelong feud and the hollow aftermath.
He might’ve been a hellion within that nightmare, but now...now he was just a man.
A man I was desperately in love with, and one I couldn’t help because I didn’t have the skills necessary to heal him.
I stroked his cheek, forcing myself to touch him and feel his realness.
He’s alive.
And he’ll stay that way.
You’ll see.
His eyes snapped closed, his entire body quaking at my touch. “I’m sorry.” His cock hung heavy and thick between his legs, swelling rapidly with need. “I’m sorry that he took you. That he hurt you. That I was almost too late—”
“Stop.” I kissed him softly. “No apologies. It’s over. It’s just us now.”
He trembled, a husky groan falling from his lips. “I must’ve done something right amongst all the shit I did wrong...to have deserved you...just for a little while.”
My heart forgot how to beat. “You have me forever, not just for a little while.”
He didn’t reply.
His large, strong hand cupped my breast. His gaze locked on my nipple as if awed he had permission to touch me. The sinew of his fingers. The pronounced veins roping his impressive forearm. Such masculine attributes did their best to convince me that Sully was undefeatable, all while he spoke as if he’d lost.
His touch dropped from my breast over the curve of my waist to the swell of my hip. His eyes devoured my nakedness, the blue of his pupils flashing as if he took photograph after photograph of my nudity, creating a collage of memories...as if he might never see me this way again.
His intensity made me shiver, but I made no move to cover up. His cock kept hardening, a proud mast with desire glistening at the tip.
No clothes were required.
No lies.
No embellishments.
It was everything he didn’t say that made me cry and every way he touched me that made me moan.
His cashmere suits and silken ties had deceived me into thinking he was more than just human. Yet his stripped back viciousness and vulnerability made him otherworldly. The severity of his stare. The graveness of his voice and the grimness of his touch made everything between us lethal to my heart.
Fifth a Fury (Goddess Isles, #5) Page 10
