Redemption (Savior Seires Book 2)

by Callie Anderson

  “I think I might sleep for days, I’m so tired,” I complained.

  He brought his lips to my tender scalp and kissed it gently. “I plan on undressing you, bathing you, and holding you all night.”

  That sounded like heaven. “Mmm…”

  We stopped in front of our door, and I waited as Cole located our room key in his back pocket. Sliding the key into the slot, he opened the door, kicking it wide. He held my elbow, not letting me go. Winking at me, he leaned and kissed the tip of my nose. Lost in his gentle touch and weariness, I was surprised when he cradled me in his arms, lifting me before crossing the threshold.

  Vibrant laughter escaped my throat. “I think Caleb and Lila are the only ones who need to do this. Not the whole bridal party.”

  “Eh, it seemed like the appropriate thing to do.” He kicked the door shut behind him.

  Cole brought me to the living area of our suite before he lowered me. I sat on the coffee table, looking up into his endearing eyes. Through all the hell I had endured the past year, he was my addiction. One I refused to kick. There wasn’t enough rehab to stop craving what I felt for him.

  Cole stepped back before squatting in front of me, his hands sliding down my legs. Cradling my foot in his hands, he kissed my ankle before slipping off my sandal. I leaned back on the coffee table, my wrist holding me up as he did the same to my other foot.

  Cole tossed my shoes to the side and rose, his hands outstretched for me to grab. I stood, looking up into his bright eyes. They were still as bright as I remembered, like the blazing fire that stoked my love for him.

  “I love you,” I mumbled as I wrapped my arms around his chest. His lips pressed against the top of my head and I looked back up at him. “I know I don’t say it as often as I should, but I do love you, Cole. With all my heart.”

  With his eyes bright, his lips spread into a smile. “I know.”

  Lost in him, I didn’t notice his hand pulling the zipper on my dress until his fingertips tickled my skin. Cole brought his lips to mine as my dress hit the floor. I wrapped my arms around his neck, deepening our kiss.

  “Not yet.” He pulled away, his hand cupping the side of my face. “I have something to show you,” he whispered against my lips.

  “Oh really?”

  Cole tossed his shoes and socks next to mine and loosened his tie as I unbuttoned his shirt. I ran my fingers across his chest, down his laterals, and around each well-defined ab. Turning my body so that my back faced him, he pulled the bobby pins from my hair, letting it fall over my shoulders. His nose found the crook of my neck, his breath causing goose bumps to rise.

  “You’re absolutely breathtaking.” He kissed my neck again, his hands coming around to cover my eyes.

  “Cole––”

  “Just for a second, Kat.”

  One hand covered my eyes while his other was resting on the lower part of my back, guiding me. Though I couldn’t see where he was leading me, I knew the hotel room. Cole led me to the master bedroom, stopping short of the bathroom door.

  “Open the door, love,” he whispered in my ear.

  I brought my hands to the door, feeling for the door handle. The knob turned easily, and I pushed the door open. The smell of roses invaded my senses, and I felt the soft petals under my toes. My skin warmed as I stepped into the room. My eyes were still shut, my heart beating a mile a minute as Cole hovered around me.

  His hand entwined with mine, locking our fingers together. “Open your eyes, Katherine.”

  With my bottom lip pressed between my teeth, I took a deep breath and opened my eyes.

  Vases and more vases of red roses covered every surface of the massive bathroom. White candles lit the room, and the marble floor was covered with white rose petals.

  Shocked by the beauty of the room, I gasped for air, and my hands flew to my mouth. “Cole,” I shook my head at him. I was amazed. “When did you do this?”

  “I have my ways,” he said, leaving my side to walk in front of me. His hands ran down and back up my arms, rubbing along the goose bumps. Taking my hands back in his, he lifted my knuckles to his lips, kissing each one. “You are beautiful, Katherine,” he professed. My skin burned as I blushed.

  Cole leaned down until his lips met mine. He pulled away and dropped down on one knee, his hand still holding mine. My heart stopped. The flickering flames of the candles moved in slow motion as I realized what he was doing.

  “Cole—”

  “Shhh…” He released my left hand to reach into his pants pocket. “Katherine Wolf, I never knew what love was until I found you. A long time ago I asked you for a fresh start, and since then my life—our life—has changed so much. But through the good, the bad, and the horrifyingly ugly, we’ve made it. I love you, Katherine, and I promise to love you always. To protect you, cherish you and make you as happy as I possibly can. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

  My eyes pooled with tears. My mouth hung open, speechless as I took in the room. He had planned this. The man I loved, my addiction, my sanity, was asking me to marry him.

  I gripped his hand tighter and dropped to my knees before him. “Yes.” The lone word escaped my lips, and the unshed tears finally dropped down my cheeks.

  “A million times yes.”

  The End

  Do you want more of the Rhodes Family?

  Stay tuned for Theo’s love triangle coming late 2019.

  Also by Callie Anderson

  Invisible Love Letter

  Prologue

  You only get one true love.

  That was what my mother always told me. Whenever her soft-spoken voice said those words, she’d look directly at my father. Their love was real. The kind little girls dream of having one day.

  Love and rock and roll.

  That was my father’s favorite quote.

  He was the lead singer of the band Vengeance and considered a rock god. My parents met backstage during his world tour, got married, and then honeymooned while my father travelled the globe. I was conceived in the back of a tour bus. My mother almost gave birth to me on that same bus. In fact, that bus was my first home.

  My father had two loves in his life: my mother and music. He couldn’t have one without the other. My mother died of cancer when I was eleven, and when I awoke on my twelfth birthday, I found my father’s lifeless body slumped over the kitchen table.

  Love.

  Love is fatal; a snake that slithers into your life, poisons you with its venom and then leaves you there to die. I swore I wouldn’t be like my parents. I swore I would stay away from the limelight. I swore falling in love with a musician was out of the question.

  Lie to protect those you love most.

  That was my quote.

  Love and music are a deadly combination. But impossible to avoid. I was setting myself up for a shattered heart.

  A broken life.

  A fucked-up love story.

  Chapter 1

  When we met…

  The crop top and jean shorts I wore over my bikini did nothing to alleviate the heat. I had spent the last four hours baking in the heat of the Santa Monica beach one last time. It would only be a matter of minutes before my phone began to buzz because I was an hour late. I knew I would be stuck in traffic for at least another hour, but I didn’t care.

  My oversized sunglasses covered my face and a bead of sweat dripped down my spine as my cheap rubber flip-flops slapped against my heels. I tugged on the heavy glass door, the cool air-conditioned breeze brushing over my warm skin. Shoving my glasses onto my head, I stood in place and let the chilled air work its magic over my body and the aroma of coffee invade my senses. After the salt water and Los Angeles smog, it was a taste of heaven.

  Starbucks was crowded, filled with the usual afternoon rush. My beach bag rubbed against my tender, sunburned shoulder as I lifted my arms to tighten the strands of my messy bun. I pushed away a few stray locks and studied the menu. The tall guy standing in front of me talked on his cell ph
one as I weighed my beverage options. His ass looked delectable in his washed-out jeans.

  My phone beeped, and I knew I couldn’t avoid my roommate Leslie any longer. She was already pissed that I was late and ignoring her would only add to her anger. I dug in my purse for my iPhone. When I looked back up, the tall guy was gone and the barista was smiling at me. I placed my order and strolled to the end of the counter. As I waited for my drink to be made, I unlocked my phone.

  Leslie: Where are you?

  Leslie: Seriously, Em.

  Leslie: We are going to be late!

  With a groan, I hit the send button and called her back. It rang a few times before she answered.

  “Where the hell are you?” she demanded.

  Last year Leslie spent a semester with me in Brazil in the university’s Business program. Now she had been my roommate for the past six months while I was in the States for my semester abroad—I thought I’d take a few courses in international business that counted towards my bachelor’s degree. We shared a two-bedroom apartment next to campus with two other girls, Kate and Monica. They were friendly, but I hadn’t bonded with them the way I had with Leslie. She was from Arizona and, like me, was majoring in international business.

  I was born in the States, and though I lived there for some time when my father wasn’t on tour, I was sent to live with my mom’s sister in Brazil after he died. Coming back for a semester was a way for me to connect with my home country. Enough time had passed that I didn’t blame my father for leaving me. I understood that his love for my mother was stronger than it was for me. Which was why falling in love wasn’t on my bucket list.

  Leslie and I were in the same class when she did her semester in Brazil, and unlike most students on campus, I was fluent in English. We became study partners and spent many late nights in the library prepping for exams. After she left, I emailed her about the program in the States. She told me her previous roommate had moved out and I could come stay with her if I was accepted. Not only was it a fraction of the cost of staying in the dorms, but I would also be rooming with someone I knew and liked.

  “I’ll be there soon, promise,” I whispered into my phone. Her voice grew louder as she complained about the traffic she knew I’d be stuck in.

  “Venti passion tea lemonade,” the barista called out.

  Leslie continued to harp about my tardiness, but I ignored her high-pitched voice as I wedged the phone between my shoulder and ear and reached forward for my plastic cup. Just as I was about to claim my drink, another hand stretched forward and the back of it brushed against mine. A cool electrical shock ran through my body.

  It was him.

  The tall guy who was standing ahead of me in line.

  My breath caught in my chest, and I yanked my hand away. My eyes landed on his Nirvana graphic tee and trailed up his body. His neck was slender, his jaw chiseled and long, his smile beautiful. And holy God…

  He had eyes that would haunt me the rest of my life.

  They were a shade of greenish gray I had never seen before, like storm clouds on a hot summer day. His skin was tan, mocha.

  He was perfection.

  Jesus, apaga a luz. Jesus, turn off the lights.

  The world around me moved in slow motion and everything was silent.

  I swallowed hard.

  I had been staring for too long, but I was frozen, trapped under his spell. His lips moved as he spoke, but I heard nothing as I continued to gaze at the most beautiful creature God had ever made.

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry, what was that?” My words trembled with anxiety.

  “I said I was sorry for trying to take your drink.” His voice was a sweet melody, soothing my palpitating heart.

  My head nodded slowly as I slid my cell phone into my beach bag. I opened my mouth to tell him he could have it when the barista placed another passion tea lemonade beside mine on the bar.

  “Alrighty then.” I grabbed the cup and twirled around to head for the sugar and milk counter. Alrighty then? Who the hell says alrighty then?

  Someone, please shoot me now.

  I needed a moment to catch my breath; a moment to wipe my sweaty palms. I wove through the hipsters, college students, and surfers until I reached the back tables. The coolness I felt earlier was gone, replaced with suffocating heat. My phone began to ring again, but I ignored it. I was too busy locking his picture in my mind.

  I wanted to remember his perfection.

  I wanted it to be a permanent mark in my brain.

  If his shirt told me anything about his taste in music, we already had something in common. But his face … His appearance had caused me to tremble. His dark brown hair was buzzed short on his head, a fine line tracing his hairline. His high cheekbones overpowered his face when he smiled at me, and the dimple … Oh God, the dimple. It appeared on the right side of his cheek when he smiled at me.

  “Are you okay?”

  Shoving the straw between my lips—to keep from saying something stupid again—I pivoted so I could see him once more. I nodded as I stepped forward on shaky legs, but he lifted his free hand and laid it on my shoulder.

  “Wait.” I looked up at his stormy eyes. “Can I have your name?”

  I pulled the plastic straw out of my mouth and brushed a few loose tendrils behind my ear. “Emmy,” I responded. “My mother gave me the nickname when I was a child. She named me Emilia, after her grandmother.” I kicked myself internally for babbling.

  I didn’t ask his name; there was no point. I would never see him again. And if I knew his name, it would haunt me for the rest of my life. It would probably become an obsession, like a grade schooler who doodles her crush’s name into a book over and over again.

  The smell of coffee wafted through the air around us, but when I passed his long body and inhaled his scent, I only smelled leather and cinnamon.

  “Alrighty then.”

  I heard his voice through the chatter as I continued towards the exit. I pulled my sunglass over my eyes and smiled.

  Alrighty then.

  I drove the whole way home with a goofy grin on my face. I imagined what he did for a living, wondered whether I had passed him in the hallways at school. I had become completely smitten over a guy I would never see again.

  When I walked through the door of our shoebox apartment, Leslie ordered me straight to the shower and barked that if I weren’t ready in fifteen minutes, she would have my ass. Though she bitched and rapped on the bathroom door repeatedly, I couldn’t wipe my smile away because his face was still on my mind. His scent—leather and cinnamon, etched in my memory. He had affected me so much that I applied my eye shadow three times.

  “What did you put in your lemonade?” Leslie asked once I finally emerged. I looked at her through the wall mirror we had hung in our shared bedroom. She stood behind me, her arms crossed over her chest. Leslie had raven hair, curls wild and hard to tame. She was built like me, short and busty, but my hips were wider. I had my mother’s Latin roots to thank for those.

  “You look buzzed.” Her hands moved from her chest to her hips.

  I shoved my makeup into my bag and tucked it in my carry-on. “Nothing.” I shrugged, a goofy grin still on my face. “I just bumped into this guy at Starbucks.”

  I gave myself a look over in the mirror, pushing my auburn curls off my shoulder. I was dressed in black strappy sandals, white shorts and a camisole top with lace trim. It was a daring choice since my boobs looked like they would pop out at any moment, but it was my going away party since I was heading out to Brazil in the morning, so why not go out with a bang? Or a potential wardrobe malfunction.

  “Wow.” Leslie shook her head in disbelief. “You’ve been here for almost six months and you’ve never even looked at a guy. That whole love sucks spiel you’re always going on about—”

  “It isn’t love. It is a physical attraction. I don’t believe in love, but I’m not dead.” “By your lack of sex, I for sure thought you were dead,” she joked a
nd I stuck my tongue out at her. “Ready?” Leslie tossed my clutch at me.

  “One second, love. I need to make sure my passport is put away with my suitcase.” The last thing I needed was to misplace it hours before my flight. I wouldn’t need it for the night since I wasn’t twenty-one yet, and my friend Axel knew the bouncer, so I wouldn’t need to show ID at the club. Of course, wearing a low-cut top also helped.

  Tonight, I would say goodbye to my favorite pub and to all my new American friends that I would cherish for the rest of my life.

  The drive to Yorks—our weekly hangout spot—was short. The hole in the wall was only a few minutes from our apartment. Tonight, it was filled with musicians, college students, and groupies. The beer was cheap, the seating was abandoned picnic tables, and the music was good. Listening to the local cover bands, sipping cheap beer and saying goodbye to my friends was the best way to spend the evening.

  As my parents’ only child, they had left me enough money to afford a semester abroad and be able to buy a car while I stayed here. It was an old Honda, and most days the air conditioning didn’t work, but it served its purpose. I dangled the car keys for Leslie to see and tossed them to her. “It’s all yours.” The keys landed in her hands. I had officially passed my car over to Leslie.

  Gravel from the road flew over my feet as Axel sped up from behind us in his POS. Axel Arrington was a rotund guy with milky skin. He reminded me of a polar bear with his pitch-black eyes. He had come to the States through the study abroad program from England and loved life in LA so much that he’d transferred the following semester. We had become friends instantly—kindred spirits. He was a drummer in a cover band and idolized everything rock, so we would sit in the courtyard after class where he would pick my brain for hours about life on the road. At first, I was hesitant to talk about my parents; afraid that remembering them would cause too much pain. But once I began to tell him what it was like to shower over the toilet on the tour bus, I was reminded that as long as I spoke about my parents, they would live within me.