“I don’t want you to leave, either.” He took a few steps forward and stopped, looking like he wasn’t sure if he should come closer or keep his distance. “I’d keep you here—with me—if I could.”
I smirked, a crazy idea popping into my mind. Instead of saying it immediately, I rushed over to Thomas and wrapped my arms around his neck, bringing his lips down to mine.
He didn’t fight me. He never did.
I deepened the kiss and pushed my body against his, smiling when he let out a tortured groan. Thomas was always so calm and in control—I loved being the only one who could get him to let down his guard.
I eventually broke the kiss and smiled in mischief. “You’re the leader of the Bettencourt coven,” I said, my gaze locked on his. “You can do anything you want.”
“Not anything,” he said reluctantly. “I love you Sage, but if your brother knew about what happened between the two of us this summer…” He let the thought hang, although I was barely focused on what he was saying anymore. “I don’t think he’d ever let you leave the Montgomery compound again. He certainly wouldn’t let you anywhere near me.”
“You love me?” I stared up at him as I waited for him to confirm that he meant it—that I wasn’t just hearing what I’d been hoping he would say for weeks. Years, if I was being honest with myself.
“Of course I love you,” he said. “I loved you since the first summer I took care of you, but this summer, that love changed. It grew. I’m in love with you, Sage Montgomery. You’re the most fascinating, beautiful, infuriating woman I know, and I’m so madly in love with you that I can’t think straight anymore. It’s driving me crazy. Before this ends—before you leave here—I needed you to know that.”
“Who said anything about this ending?” My heart dropped at the thought of it. He couldn’t say something so amazing and then imply we were over. It didn’t make any sense.
“I know how shifter biology works.” He pulled away, his eyes flashing with pain. “You’re going to be back home, among others of your kind, for months. If you imprint on any of them while you’re there, I won’t blame you for choosing your potential mate over me. Your happiness is more important to me than anything. I’d want you to choose him over me.”
“Never,” I said stubbornly. “Since you know how shifter biology works, then you know I have to kiss another shifter to imprint on them. Which isn’t going to happen. Because I love you too, Thomas Bettencourt. And the only lips I want to kiss are yours.”
I shut off the water in the shower, the memory feeling like it had just happened yesterday. Right after telling him I loved him, I’d pulled him to me again. That kiss hadn’t ended nearly as quickly as the previous one.
The Thomas from all those years ago was so different from the cold, hardened man I saw today.
A huge part of me wanted to run up to him like I had back then and kiss him with that same wild abandonment—like I was young, in love, and without a care in the world. I wanted to break down his walls in the way he’d once told me only I was able to do.
I wanted to go back to the time before he’d ruined everything.
But I couldn’t. Because if he’d truly loved me as much as he’d claimed, he wouldn’t have broken our engagement. He wouldn’t have gone years without contacting me—as if I never mattered to him at all.
I’d just been a game to him. Another one of his machines to study, play with, and master.
Once I’d said yes to his proposal, he’d tossed me aside like a piece of old technology.
And nothing he might say to me on this date could ever make me forget that.
Sage
The closet was filled with women’s clothing, and the bathroom stocked with hair supplies and makeup.
Why did Thomas have all that stuff in his penthouse?
Jealously burned at the pit of my stomach at the thought of another woman here, in the room that had been mine. Obviously I knew Thomas was likely seeing people after breaking our engagement, but actually seeing evidence of it hurt more than I cared to admit.
He had another woman living with him, and here I was—a defected shifter who had yet to imprint on anyone. I felt like such a loser. This all would have been so much easier if I’d come to him for help and had a sexy shifter mate by my side who I was hopelessly in love with. But no. I was forever cursed to be alone.
But I refused to let Thomas get to me. I was here for Raven—not for me. I’d agreed to this date for Raven.
Plus, just because I’d agreed to go on a date with him didn’t mean I had to dress like I cared what happened on the date. Especially considering that Thomas had a woman living in this room, which meant he shouldn’t be going on a date with his ex-fiancée at all.
This was messed up on so many levels.
I browsed through the clothes in the closet, determined to find the most casual outfit possible. All of the clothes were in my style, which definitely weirded me out a bit. Apparently, Thomas had a type.
I considered putting on the same clothes I wore when I got here, but they were dirty and smelly. While that would get across the message that this date meant nothing to me, I’d just gotten out of the shower, and the prospect of putting my dirty clothes on again wasn’t appealing at all.
Proving a point didn’t mean I had to be gross.
So I put on the most casual clothes I found amongst all the dresses and fancy tops—jeans and a black tank.
I wasn’t going to put on any makeup, since if I did, it would look like I cared. But the circles under my eyes were atrocious, so I dabbed some concealer on them. The purpose of concealer was to look natural, and guys didn’t know enough about makeup to realize I was wearing it, anyway.
All the makeup in the drawer was unused. And the concealer matched my skin tone perfectly.
Strange.
I threw my wet hair up into a ponytail—the least sexy thing I could think to do with it. Nothing said, “I don’t care if you think I look hot or not” like a wet, messy ponytail.
I gave myself a once-over in the mirror. I looked ready for a girls’ night in. Perfect.
I opened the door to return to the living room. But Thomas was already standing outside, preparing to knock.
His eyes widened, and he took a step back. “Sage.” He straightened and cleared his throat. “I was just coming by to see if you were ready to leave.”
If he thought I didn’t look ready, he said nothing.
Ugh. So frustrating.
Even more frustrating was that he was dressed casually—for him—too. Slacks and a white button down top.
He knew I thought he looked hot in white button down tops.
What kind of game was he trying to play with me?
“I’m ready.” I marched past him, refusing to let him take the lead—and not wanting him to see the effect he had on me. “Let’s get this over with.”
Sage
Thomas led me up to the roof of the Bettencourt, where a helicopter waited for us.
“Always such a show off.” I glared at the helicopter and rolled my eyes.
The light in his eyes dimmed, like my reaction had been a punch in the gut. Good. “You love the helicopter,” he said.
That was back when I loved you.
The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t say them. I couldn’t bring up my feelings for him. If I did, I didn’t trust myself not to burst into tears.
“That was a long time ago,” I said instead.
“Something happened between then and now that caused this intense aversion to helicopters?” he teased.
This time I glared at him—not at the helicopter. He had no right to act casual and friendly after what he did to me. And if he thought I was going to go along with it, he was terribly mistaken.
“Cut the crap,” I said. “I agreed to go on this date with you, but I didn’t agree to forgive you. Pretending like everything’s fine between us isn’t going to make what you did to me go away.”
A myriad
of emotions crossed his face. He eventually settled on his typical detached look. “Noted.” He walked over to the helicopter and held the door open for me. All traces of friendliness were gone from his tone. “Hurry up inside, then. The sooner you get in, the faster we can get this over with.”
The helicopter ride passed in silence. Thomas piloted, and I gazed out the windows, watching as the city skyscrapers gave way to suburbs, and eventually gave way to nothing. It took everything in me not to press my hands against the windows and stare out in awe like I did when I was sixteen.
Eventually, Thomas made a sharp turn, and we headed over Lake Michigan.
I sat back and swallowed, knowing exactly where we were going.
The private island Thomas owned and had taken me to many times during my summers here.
When I was twelve, he’d taken me there to prove he owned an island. Twelve-year-old me had been extremely impressed. I’d thought he was a king, and that the island was a magical land where anything could happen, like the ones from storybooks.
When I was sixteen, he’d taken me there so I could shift into my wolf form and run freely through the woods. We’d kissed for the first time on that island.
When I was seventeen, he’d taken me there and we’d sat out on the beach talking for hours. We’d fantasized about living there, just the two of us together, with no one else in the world to bother us. I’d even planned out our perfect dream house, complete with a dock and a boat.
When I was eighteen, he’d taken me there, gotten on one knee, and asked me to marry him. That had been the happiest moment of my life.
It still was the happiest moment of my life, if I was being honest with myself.
How pathetic was I, that my happiest moment was when the man who had broken my heart had proposed to me years ago?
The island came into sight, and I saw lights on it. Those were new. Despite owning the island, Thomas had never built anything on it. He’d left it natural and wild—his own personal escape from the busy world he lived in.
As we got closer, the thing he’d built on the island came into view.
It was a house. And it wasn’t just any house. It was a beautiful castle-like home with a dock leading out to a boat on the lake.
It was the house from my dreams. From our dreams.
He landed us in the yard, and I stared out at the house as he powered the helicopter off.
“You built it,” I said once the helicopter went silent. “The house we talked about that summer. You built it.”
I couldn’t believe it. This felt like a dream—not like real life.
“I did,” he said.
I turned toward him, tears brimming my eyes. “Why?”
“It was going to be an engagement present.” He looked out to the house, staring at it with wistfulness and longing.
Like he was longing for something he’d never have.
I touched the finger on my left hand, as if imagining the ring I’d once wore was still there. None of this made any sense. Why would he build our dream house and plan on giving it to me as an engagement present if he didn’t want to marry me? Why was he bringing me here now? And why did he look just as heartbroken as I felt?
It was too much at once. I needed air.
I opened the door of the helicopter and jumped out of it, walking toward the house. I heard Thomas do the same, and he followed behind me.
Eventually I stopped in front of the sidewalk and stared up at the house. It was exactly what we’d planned, down to the turret with a tower that looked out toward the lake.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Thomas said from next to me. “Not knowing is killing me.”
“You wanted me to come on this date with you because you wanted my forgiveness,” I said, reminding him about his claim from earlier. He nodded, and I continued, “But showing me this house isn’t going to magically make everything better. I can’t forgive you if you never explain why you did it to me. Why you…” I paused, getting in control of myself to make sure I didn’t start crying while saying it. “Why you broke our engagement and stopped talking to me, kicking me out of your life like you never loved me at all.”
“After everything we went through, you think I never loved you?” His eyes flashed with pain, like my words had physically hurt him.
I was glad for it. I’d suffered so much—it was gratifying to see that he might feel some of that pain, too. “You broke our engagement and stopped talking to me.” I glared up at him. “What was I supposed to think?”
“You’re right,” he admitted.
“Really?” I was shocked—those were words Thomas didn’t speak often. “About which part?”
“All of it,” he said, and I stilled, bracing myself for what was coming next. “I just thought if I broke it off quickly, it would be less painful. That you’d be able to move on faster.”
I said nothing, since what was there to say? Admitting the truth—that I’d never moved on—was too pathetic. Instead, I stayed silent. A warm summer breeze blew up at us from the lake, and I took a deep breath, loving the familiar, earthy smell of the island. The moon was only a tiny sliver in the sky, and at this time of night so far from the city, it was easy to believe we were the only two people in the world.
It was also easy to believe we were the people we once were. But I steered my mind from that path, not willing to let it go there.
“I was wrong, and I see that now.” He watched me with so much sadness—like he wanted to put together the broken pieces of my heart.
Deep down, I wished he could. But it was too late for that.
“I’m sorry,” he added.
“You were definitely wrong.” I crossed my arms, still unable to accept his apology. “And while it’s nice to hear you admit it, I can’t forgive you.”
“Why not?” He spun to face me, looking angry now. “I’m doing everything I can to show you I’m sorry. I built our house. I saved your friend’s life. I told you I was wrong breaking it off the way I did. What else do you want from me?”
The intense way he was looking at me took my breath away. But I took a step back, somehow managing to center myself.
“Simple,” I said. “I want to know why you decided you didn’t want to marry me. And the explanation better be good.”
Even then, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to forgive him.
But at least it would be a start.
Sage
“All right,” Thomas said, motioning toward the house. “Do you want to go inside?”
He was stalling.
But I also really wanted to see the inside of the house.
“Only if once we get inside, you tell me why you broke off our engagement,” I said.
Thomas nodded and led the way inside. I followed, stepping through the front door and into a foyer that looked like it was straight from a fairytale. Every bit of the decoration was traditional and ornate—the exact opposite of Thomas’s modern penthouse.
“Wow.” I took a few more steps into the hall, letting my fingers linger on the carvings on the wooden entry table. “You really went all out on this.”
“The designer did most of the work.” He shrugged, like it was nothing. “But it was what you said you wanted so… here it is.”
I nodded, since it was exactly the type of decor we’d discussed that summer, when this miniature castle was a fantasy and not something I thought Thomas actually intended on building.
Even though I was inside it right now, it was still hard to believe this was real.
He led the way into the dining room, where the grand wooden table was set for two. “I took the liberty of having dinner ready for us when we arrived.” He reached for one of the chairs and pulled it out, motioning for me to sit. “Porterhouse steak, cooked rare, just how you like it. With mac and cheese on the side. And some creamed spinach, in case you want to attempt to be healthy.”
“Creamed spinach isn’t healthy,” I said instantly.
“I know.” He smile
d. “But it’s the only way to get you to eat your vegetables.”
My stomach rumbled, and I wrapped my arms around it in embarrassment. I couldn’t lie and say I wasn’t hungry even if I wanted to. Which I didn’t. It had been forever since I’d sat down to a decent meal, and my mouth was already watering at the thought of a perfect, juicy steak.
Hopefully Thomas intended on explaining why he’d broken our engagement during dinner. Even if he didn’t, I was going to insist he did.
But first, food.
“There’s staff in the house?” I looked around, expecting a maid or chef to come around the corner at any moment.
“Nope.” He smirked. “We’re the only ones here. The meal is thanks to the robotic kitchen I had installed. Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll bring everything out.”
I sat down and placed my napkin on my lap. Of course Thomas had a robotic kitchen. I wouldn’t have expected anything else.
He used his vampire speed to whiz between the dining room and the kitchen, bringing out a bottle of wine, a carafe of blood, and both of our meals. He poured my wine first, then poured half as much into his glass. He topped the rest of his off with blood.
It took all of my self-control not to dig into my steak the moment he placed it in front of me. But I resisted, since I was a shifter—not a savage.
“A toast.” He raised his wineglass in the air. “To finally being reunited after all these years.”
“How about a toast to you telling me why you broke our engagement and ignored me for all these years?” I sat back and crossed my arms. If he thought I was going to forget he owed me an explanation because he had my favorite meal waiting, he had another thing coming.
“I thought we might enjoy our dinner first,” he said.
“You thought wrong.” I took a sip of the wine—delicious, of course—and set it down. Then I picked up my utensils and began cutting into my steak. “Start talking. Now.”
The Angel Trap (Dark World: The Angel Trials Book 3) Page 6
