by M. S. Parker
“We know,” Juliette said quietly.
I shook my head. “No, it's my fault. If I hadn't gone to those games, then none of this would've happened.”
“Kyndall.” Dalton's voice was gentle. “You screwed up, yes, but you never would have knowingly put Anthony into harm's way.”
“But–”
“No.” Juliette came over to me and took my hands. Her eyes were red, skin pale, but there was no animosity on her face. “You are not responsible for someone else's actions. That man could have let it go, but he chose to come after Anthony.”
“You don't under–”
“I do,” she interrupted. “I know exactly what it's like to have to distinguish between what I'm responsible for with unwise choices I've made, and taking the blame for what someone else chooses to do. I'm not saying what you were doing was smart, but it's not like you took Anthony with you to the game. I know it will take you a while before you're able to forgive yourself, but you need to know that Dalton and I don't blame you.”
She hugged me, and it wasn't a conciliatory sort of embrace. She meant what she was saying. I swallowed hard, unable to speak around the lump in my throat. It was one thing to hear family say that their love was unconditional, to hear someone talk about how they'd love you no matter what. It was something else entirely to have done something like this and see that love in action.
I knew that I didn't deserve it and that nothing I could do would ever make up for what happened, but I promised myself that I would do whatever it took to at least try.
“He's really okay?” I asked as Juliette released me.
“He is.” She put her arm around my shoulders and drew me toward the bed.
I could feel Dean watching me as I went, and I knew that he and I would need to talk soon. But Anthony came first.
“Those men gave him some cough syrup, and he basically just slept through all of it. The doctors said he's completely fine. Not even dehydrated.” She ran her hand over his dark hair. “He won't remember anything.”
Something about the way she said it made me look at Dalton.
“Juliette was kidnapped before I met her.”
My eyes went wide.
“Former assistant and former lover teamed up,” she said without taking her eyes off of her son. “It happened right after Cross and Hanna met.”
“Have you considered investing in tracking devices for your family?” Dean asked as he came over to the bed.
Dalton chuckled, and the sound was contagious, loosening the last bit of what had been tight between us. I reached down and touched my nephew's hand. Someone sucked in a breath, and I looked up to see Juliette staring at my wrist.
“What happened?” Her eyes darkened when she looked back up at me.
“One of the men at the game thought I was cheating,” I said.
Dalton cursed. “You need to get that checked out.”
“I'm fine.”
“No, you're not.” Juliette's voice was firm. “You're going to get that x-rayed, and then after a doctor says it's okay, you're going home to get some sleep.”
“I'm staying here,” I argued.
“No, you're not.” Dalton had taken on that big brother tone that drove me crazy. “They want to keep Anthony overnight for observation as a precaution, but there's no reason for all of us to stay here.”
“Dalton,” I started to protest.
“Dean.” Juliette looked over at him. “Stay with her while she gets the x-ray and then take her back to her place. Don't take no for an answer.”
Dean gave me a steady look. “I won't.”
Apparently, I was going to have that talk with him tonight.
None of the bones in my wrist were broken or cracked, so the doctor gave me some pain meds and told me that I was free to go. I knew better than to try to go back to Anthony's room, so I didn't protest as Dean led me outside to a waiting car. And I didn't resist as he put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me to his side.
Neither of us spoke until we were back in my apartment, sitting on my sofa, each with a glass of my favorite pinot noir.
“Can I ask you something?”
He nodded, shifting so that he was facing me, our knees touching. “Of course.”
“How did you find me?” I glanced up at him, and then down at my glass of wine. “I mean, how did the cops know where to find Anthony, and where to find me?”
“Dalton called some PI he knew, and the guy had a picture of Stanley Maverick. I put the pieces together. Enough of them, anyway. The police did the rest.”
I nodded. It made sense. “Dalton and Juliette didn't seem surprised when I told them about the gambling.”
A flash of guilt crossed his face. “I needed to give the police a reasonable explanation to justify them applying for warrants. I know it wasn't my place to tell them, but the situation–”
“Thank you,” I interrupted. “Thank you for helping the police find Anthony.”
“And you.” He put his hand on my knee. “Yes, I wanted them to find Anthony because I would have to be a monster to not have been thinking of him. But I wanted them to find you, too, because I knew you were in trouble.”
“What did it matter if they found me or not?” I slid away from his hand, unable to think when he was touching me. “Dalton and Juliette might've said that what happened to Anthony wasn't my fault, but me being at that game definitely was. Whatever could've happened would've been my own fault.”
After a moment of silence, Dean moved so that he was sitting right against me. His hand cupped my chin, holding my face in place as he spoke, “I want you to listen to me, so we have no misunderstanding. I will not accept harm coming to you. If it is in my power to protect you, I will, no matter the cost.”
My eyes burned with tears, guilt churning in my stomach. Not only for what I'd done, for what might have been, but for what I saw on Dean's face, what I heard in his voice.
“I looked for you all day,” he said. “I needed to apologize for the things I'd said, for the way I treated you.”
“You don't need to apologize.”
“Yes, I do, because that is what we do when we're wrong.” His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth. “And then we forgive, and we move on.”
“Of course I forgive you.”
He smiled, but it wasn't a full one. “Thank you, love, but I wasn't only speaking of forgiveness to each other, but for ourselves as well.”
I turned my head away. “I don't think I can.”
“Look at me, love.”
I closed my eyes, wishing I could leave, hide away from all of it.
“Kyndall. Look at me.”
I shivered at his tone. There was no denying the authority in his voice. I hadn't been with him long, but everything in me wanted to respond to his command.
“Kyndall.”
I looked at him, the heat in his eyes sending a wash of warmth over me. He studied me for a moment, then stood, holding out his hand.
“Come with me.” When I hesitated, he added, “now.”
He led me into my bedroom, his fingers clasped comfortably around mine. Once inside, he gave me another searching look.
“Do you trust me?”
The question held weight, I knew, and I took a moment to consider it. After what happened between us, did I still want him? Yes. And I loved him. But none of that would matter if I didn't trust him.
He told Dalton and Juliette about my gambling, but he'd done it to save Anthony's life. He'd known that I would've put Anthony above myself, that my nephew meant more to me than anything else.
“Yes.”
“Bend over and put your hands on the edge of the bed.”
I gave him a puzzled look but didn't argue. My hair fell around my face, shielding it. I stayed quiet as he unbuttoned my shorts, then pulled them down, taking my panties with them.
“You believe that you're guilty.”
It wasn't a question, but I nodded anyway.
“When a person
does something wrong, they should be punished.”
Again, not a question.
“So here's what's going to happen.” A strange sound followed his words, something not like metal on metal, but some sort of cloth. “I'm going to punish you until the guilt is gone, and then I'm going to make you come.”
I had absolutely no response to any of that. Who would?
“Do you remember the safe word we set up?”
I knew the answer to that one. “Yes.”
His voice gentled. “This is going to hurt, love. That's the point. It isn't foreplay. But I promise that you'll feel better when it's done...and then I'll make you feel even better than that.”
“Okay.”
I heard a cracking sound, and suddenly realized what I was hearing. His belt. I figured out what was coming a moment before Dean's belt came down on my ass.
“Fuck!” I yelped. He hadn't been lying. That hurt. Not so much that I was going to ask him to stop, but it was definitely not foreplay.
A second one made my eyes water and my skin burn.
But that knot of anxiety and guilt inside me began to ease.
Another crack sent a fresh wave of pain racing along my nerves. I dug my fingers into my comforter.
“Let go, love,” Dean said. “Take the punishment. Accept it. Forgive yourself.”
Another crack. My skin started to feel like someone had taken sandpaper to it.
“Forgive yourself.”
My arms began to shake as the heavy leather came down on my ass again.
“Please, love. I need you to forgive yourself.”
His tone was almost pleading, as if what he was doing hurt him as much as it hurt me. It was the thought of causing him pain that finally did it. When the belt hit me again, the cry that ripped out of me had less to do with the physical pain and more to do with all of the pain I'd been holding onto since the moment I'd gotten that picture of Anthony.
Suddenly, Dean was there, pulling me onto his lap. He held me while I cried, and it was a different sort of cry than I'd had at the hospital. Dalton was my brother, and I trusted him as family, but Dean was the one who could take over my control, who could take everything I needed to give up.
“Shh,” he murmured against my ear, “I've got you. I love you.”
I pressed my face against his chest. “I love you too.”
And then we were quiet, just existing there, our declarations wrapping around us.
How long the two of us sat there, I wasn't sure, but at some point, the gentle caresses that had been soothing were now arousing. When I raised my head, Dean was there, and I reached up to pull him down until our mouths touched.
The kiss fed the hunger burning inside me, and I knew Dean felt it too. He turned me, pulled my legs on either side of his waist. His jeans were rough against my overly sensitive skin, but the pain that had only hurt before now merged with other things.
“Need you,” I mumbled against his lips.
His hand slid between us, his knuckles rubbing against my curls as he worked his pants open. Hot, slick flesh slipped and slid, and then he was inside me, thick and full, pulsing and throbbing with me. Our bodies rocked against each other, the harsh sound of our breathing mingling in the otherwise silent room.
As pleasure consumed me, I knew that I wasn't going anywhere. Everything and everyone I needed was here. I'd figure the rest out.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kyndall
The weather had finally started to cool, and it was about damn time. Halloween was on Monday, and the leather outfits Juliette, Hanna, and I had gotten for the party at the club would be a lot more comfortable if the temperature was lower. Either way, I was looking forward to seeing the expression on Dean's face when he saw me in it. Juliette and I had already planned on making sure my brother was busy because there was no way either he or I wanted to deal with the awkwardness of that encounter.
The very thought had me laughing out loud.
“Something you'd like to share?”
I smiled at Dean, reaching across the table to put my hand over his. “Nothing important. It's been a busy week. Tonight is about the two of us.”
A busy week was an understatement. I'd started working at Dean's non-profit almost as soon as he'd gotten it up and running, and it felt like we'd been running ever since. We'd both thought that Dean's idea of focusing on research for alternative energy and cleaner technology had been a good one, but neither of us had predicted just how big it would be. I'd been hired as a fill-in, reviewing the research as it was done, asking questions, checking numbers. But we'd had so many people applying to take part in our program that Dean and I had both spent the last few months putting together teams, figuring out who would work best where.
Before he'd moved into my apartment last month, we'd barely seen each other outside of work, but even afterward, most of our time at our now-shared home was spent falling asleep, often in the middle of a sentence.
When we hadn't even made it to the couch earlier this week before exhaustion had taken over, Dean had decided that the two of us needed a date night. I'd left work an hour early so I could be ready, and I'd taken my time to make sure I looked my best. I'd never forget the expression on his face when I walked out of the bedroom in a slinky, smokey blue dress, my favorite pair of heels, and the necklace he'd given me the day after everything happened with Anthony.
“You know that I'm always interested in what you're thinking.” He lifted my hand and brushed his lips across my knuckles. “Did something happen with the case?”
I shook my head. “Nothing new. Aramina said Stanley took the deal to flip on some people high up in the organization. As long as he testifies when he's supposed to, he won't be going to trial, so I won't need to testify.”
The DA had been surprised when Maverick had wanted to make a deal, but I hadn't been. He wasn't interested in looking out for anyone but himself, and if he could get a cushy deal in Witness Protection by selling out, I knew he'd do it. And he had. There was always the chance that he'd back out and I'd have to hold up my part of the unofficial deal I'd made with Aramina, but I had a feeling he was worried enough about possible repercussions and having to live in jail than he did anything else.
The waiter returned to refill our wine, and I pushed aside thoughts of Stanley Maverick. I didn't want to think about any of that tonight. I'd forgiven myself for what happened, but that didn't mean I wanted to think about it. I hadn't picked up a deck of cards since that night, and I didn't miss it. I had enough to challenge me, and it turned out that was all I needed.
“Are you happy?”
I blinked, startled by the sudden change of subject. “Are you?”
“I know Dalton thinks we're moving too fast. Moving in together after only a couple months.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “My brother had a one night stand with a dominatrix, got her pregnant, then decided to date her, and marry her. I don't think he really has much of a right to say what's too fast.”
Dean laughed, but his eyes were still serious. “Do you think that things are going too fast between us?”
My stomach twisted. I wasn't sure I liked the way this conversation was going. “Do you? I mean, you moving in made sense because you were living at a hotel but were at my place half the time–”
“Kyndall, Kyndall, love,” Dean cut in. He moved around the table and knelt in front of me, taking both my hands in his. “That's not what I was trying to say. I don't want to move out.”
I smiled, trying not to let him see how relieved I was. “That's good, because I was just starting to get used to having a roommate.”
I waited for a sarcastic comment, or for him to laugh as he moved back to his chair, but none of that happened.
“Would you be willing to change, perhaps, to something different?”
For someone who often joked about how I needed to learn how to properly speak English, as opposed to American, he wasn't doing a very good job with the precision o
f language himself.
“I think I need you to be a bit more specific,” I said. “Because I'm really not understanding where this conversation is going.”
He pulled one hand away from mine and reached into his jacket pocket. When he held it up, the small box made my heart skip a beat.
When he asked about moving too fast, this was definitely not what I'd been thinking.
“From the moment we bumped into each other that night outside Cross and Hanna's house, I haven't been able to get you out of my head. And while I'm uncertain when you made your way into my heart, I know that you have always been meant to be there.” His damp eyes shone. “I'm not an impulsive man, but when I know what I want, I don't believe in unnecessary waiting.”
He opened the box to reveal a beautiful platinum ring with a single diamond between two sapphires. It matched my necklace exactly.
“I love you, Kyndall, and I’m asking if you will allow me to love you forever. Will you marry me?”
I didn't even have to think about it. “Yes.” I nodded, smiling wide enough to make my cheeks hurt. “Yes, I'll marry you.”
As he slipped the ring onto my finger, I felt a deeper peace than I had ever felt before. He knew me. Knew what I needed, even when I didn't. He would always take care of me, protect me, even from myself. But he would let me be strong too, let me be who I was, and not ask me to become less.
He was the man I loved, and the man I was going to marry.
“Fiancé,” I said, leaning down to brush my lips across his. “That sounds so much better than roommate.”
