by Tessa Bailey
No. No…he’d only been down in the mine for an hour, and already, he was sliding back on the algae-coated rocks. His pulse was haywire, spiking every time the walls closed in. A pounding had begun in the dead center of his forehead, like someone had stabbed him there with an icepick. He banished the image of Sage because using her, even with his mind, felt like a betrayal of her trust. And then he was left with nothing.
Nothing but the black. No way to breathe. His lungs were burning. His vocal cords, too. And they kept calling his name from too far away. He opened his mouth to shout back, but snapped his lips closed again before a sound emerged. Maybe he was meant to be down here. Two father figures had decided his life meant nothing and sometimes it seemed like nothing. He’d never been enough for his mother when she cried. Over the man who hadn’t wanted him. The big, awkward one that didn’t have the right words. The one that had different blood.
There was the scratching again at his leg and he kept quiet, so he wouldn’t startle the animal again. Sage tried to climb onto his lap and offer herself, but he shook his head.
“No, Sage. No.”
Belmont opened his eyes again and dragged in a breath, just in time for the walls to creep closer. Closer. The machinery juddered in his hands and he focused on the burn in his muscles, the smell of oil and exhaust. And he let himself drift into the darkness.
Chapter Twenty
When Belmont arrived back at the motel that evening, Sage was waiting. Any hope she’d harbored over him conquering the mine was lost. He was a dead man walking. Such a contradiction in a man so alive, so teeming with energy and might. Every inch of him was the same robust maleness she knew like the back of her hand, but his eyes? They were dead. A dead sea of blue.
Unable to gain entry to the work zone any longer, she’d been sitting on the curb outside the motel’s rental office since that morning, counting the seconds until he returned. Alternating between praying and cursing fate. Cursing her father. Being angry with Belmont for not telling her he’d met with Augie…and loving him through the sweep of every emotion.
That never ceased for a moment. No, it only grew stronger.
Now, she straightened on her feet, heart slamming in her throat. Climbing out of the Suburban, Belmont was covered in white chalky debris and a mixture of dried sweat and dirt. Apart from the initial head-to-toe slide of his gaze, Belmont didn’t look at her once as he walked toward his designated room. Or he did, but his stare went right through her, not really seeing. Not like he usually did, in that piercing, all-knowing way.
And she knew, right then. She knew it couldn’t go on.
Hope tried to peek through again when Belmont paused at the door, cutting his gaze in her direction. “Do you need a ride home?”
His cold tone of voice fractured her heart down the middle. “No. No, I’m going to stay here with you.”
“Not tonight.” His tone left no room for argument. “It’s not a good idea.”
Realizing they were talking to each other from thirty yards away, Sage closed the distance between them, refusing to stop when alarm flared in his eyes. “Why isn’t it a good idea?”
Belmont didn’t answer her question. “I think it might be better if you stayed away for a while, Sage.” He slowly flattened a palm on the door, as if it were the only thing keeping him standing. “Starting now. I need you to go.”
Horrible pressure expanded in her throat. “I’m not going to do that.” She ached to reach out and touch him, but if he rejected the gesture, it would kill her. “You should have told me Augie came to see you. We could have figured this all out together.”
“There is nothing to figure out.” He wasn’t…Belmont in that moment. This closed-off man, speaking to her through clenched teeth, was not the man she knew so well. “Just give me a minute and I’ll drive you home.”
“Stop this,” she pleaded with him. “Can’t you look at me? Please.”
His head turned and Sage fell back a step. There was hell in his eyes. The kind she hadn’t even known to be afraid of. She’d expected him to come out of the mine uncommunicative. For him to be back in the dark place he’d always been so hesitant to speak about. It was why she’d tried to keep him out of the mine in the first place. But she hadn’t expected chaos. “I’m always looking at you, Sage. I never take my eyes off you.” A line slashed down between his brows. “Don’t you ever get tired of it?”
She was already shaking her head. “No.”
A breath rushed out of him. “Please, just go. Nothing good is going to come from you being here right now.”
“You’re wrong,” she insisted. “Nothing good comes from us being apart. Not now. I was wrong to get on the train and leave you. We should have worked through everything together. We’ve proven we can.” Desperation forced her to play dirty. “Remember what it was like to be apart? How awful it was?”
“Remember? Do I remember not knowing where you were for two days and not being able to eat or sleep or think?” His laugh was barren. “Yes, I remember. I’ll probably have nightmares about it for the rest of my life.”
Sage tried to soothe him with a shhh through icy lips, but it emerged sounding awkward. She stepped closer and Belmont stilled in the process of turning the key in the lock. “Belmont, let me come inside and we’ll talk.”
“Please, sweetest girl…” He banged a fist on the door. “I don’t have that kind of effort in me right now. We comfort with words. We comfort one another with words first, hands second. You can say it and I can repeat it a thousand times and it doesn’t make me any more capable of keeping my hands off you when I’m feeling like this.”
Her lungs emptied and yes, they weren’t in a healthy place for the kind of touching her body suddenly craved, but the chemical reaction was defiant. Moisture made the flesh at the juncture of her thighs slick, her tongue thick with the need to tell him he’d made her sore. And that she’d liked being sore from him all day. Since returning to Sibley, she’d fought mightily to subdue her end of the dependency, but it woke up now. It sat up and saw its mate. All that soothing reassurance was hers for the taking. They were in a weak moment and it would be so easy to slip into that deep, quiet place. Let them hold and rock each other, drowning each other in wordless pity. Biting down hard on her bottom lip, Sage waited for the impulse to pass. Until it was manageable. “Belmont, we’re not going to separate every time one of us feels overwhelmed, are we? That’s not good, either.”
“I just need time. Just give me some time.” His hands were flexing and releasing on the door. “The longer you stand there, the harder it is to…”
Maybe she was tempting disaster by positioning herself against his warmth, by prompting more of an explanation, but she couldn’t just let Belmont shut himself up in the room while anarchy rioted in his eyes. “The harder it is to what?”
Belmont didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Maybe deep down, Sage had known all along that he was going to erupt sooner or later, but she’d been unable to stop it. Or allow him to go through it alone. Really, how could such a passionate human being remain quiet, keeping so much inside for years, without an explosion taking place? She should have seen it coming.
He kicked open the motel room door with a booted foot, the wood smashing off the opposite wall, splinters arcing to the floor. Sage barely had time to prepare before Belmont dragged her into the dark room behind him.
When he pressed her up against the door, Sage could admit to a thrill of excitement at having his huge body molded to her own, ashamed of it though she was. No. Yes. No. This was what they’d been working against. What she’d run away from. This way they could fade from separate people into a team of enablers in mere seconds, trading their problems for solace, without solving them first. His arms were banded around her so tight, those sounds of relief and agony so potent in Sage’s ear, her vision blurred, her blood slowing. Their hearts boomed up against each other like two battering rams. Just this once…just this—
Belmont’s hands hoo
ked beneath her knees and slung them high, up around his hips, that rough mouth of his already attacking her neck, sucking it, raking his teeth beneath her earlobe. His erection was stiff and ready against the inside of her thigh, his hips working to thrust it higher, up toward the sore area between her legs.
Different. This was…other.
That’s when she understood the root of the problem. Why she shouldn’t have pushed Belmont into bringing her inside. They’d managed to separate the new loving part of their relationship from the dependent part. But right now the lines were blurring. They were losing sight of the boundaries they’d made out of necessity. He wasn’t holding her like a coveted relic, the way he’d done once upon a time. Nor was he focused on giving them both physical release.
He was doing both.
Two other people might have gone down this path without looking back, but Sage knew in her heart of hearts, it led to their ruin. Her body didn’t care about that foresight, though. It was hungry for the man, the unleashed strength being channeled through sex and frustration and dependency.
She wasn’t even aware of Belmont unpinning her from the door, turning for the bed. Her back hit the mattress and he landed atop her, giving an eager thrust between her legs, her body excitedly accepting it. Common sense leaked out along with her equilibrium, soaking into the scratchy comforter. This was her drug. Being needed by Belmont. In return, he absorbed her guilt, placing her back on that pedestal. Making her the faultless woman she knew—and rationally, he now knew—that she wasn’t.
They were fulfilling each other’s needs in the wrong way, though. Did it matter? Yes, it mattered. It mattered, but he felt so incredible. His hands scraped up the outsides of her thighs, moving her skirt out of the way and hooking dirty fingers in the sides of her panties. He’d sacrificed his sanity for her and she could temporarily make him coherent again if she just gave in. If she unzipped his jeans and urged him on…
“Sage.” He licked a path from one side of her cleavage to the other, burrowing his mouth between her breasts. “You wouldn’t leave. What am I going to do? I can’t let you go now. I don’t know how.”
Clarity tried to break through Sage’s desire, but then his teeth were ripping the bodice of her dress down the center. Everything tightened below her waist, her nipples turning to aching peaks. Without a command, her hands threw themselves up over her head, a symbol of abandon, because what choice did she have?
Belmont tore open her dress from both sides, feasting on her breasts, her belly, with a frantic mouth. “I’ll lose myself in my woman’s body,” he gritted against her right nipple, before raking his teeth on it lightly. “I’ll take her with me everywhere. I’ll never be without her. She’ll never be without me.”
His open mouth skated down over her belly, his hardened lips clamping around her femininity…and that shock of pleasure, his accompanying growl, told Sage they were at the point of no return. Maybe they’d already gone speeding over that line. Belmont was licking her through the cotton material, positioning her knees up near her elbows. And his words. They would never be without each other…she couldn’t stop hearing them. On the surface, they were divine. She wanted that future. But the underlying meaning couldn’t be ignored. They were feeding their dependent natures and it was bad. Bad for both of them.
Moisture leaked out of the corners of Sage’s eyes, because she could already sense the difficulty of putting a stop to this. She would have made him forget his demons for a while, but then they’d be back to square one. Giving in would hurt him worse in the long run.
“Stop, Belmont.” She blew a shuddering breath toward the ceiling. “We have to stop.”
“No…no.” He yanked her panties to the side, slipping his stiff tongue through her folds, and Sage’s middle arched off the bed, lust climbing her thighs like vines. “I’ll make you need it. Make you need me.”
“I do need you, but not like this.” She twisted her fingers around the wild, dirty strands of his hair and pulled him away. “Look at me. My eyes, Bel—”
With a haunted expression, he surged up, pinning Sage’s arms above her head. “I am looking at you,” he rasped, sounding out of breath. “I’m looking at the only thing that makes me forget.” He reached a hand down between their bodies and unfastened his jeans. “Help me forget, Sage.”
His despair stabbed her right in the center of her chest, because she shared it. It was theirs. They’d been born with corresponding needs that screamed out for each other, magnetic and undeniable. But deny it she must. Or they risked a lifetime of temporary satisfaction, instead of grabbing hold of the fulfillment she knew they could have.
“No.” She pushed at his shoulders and attempted to roll away, out from beneath Belmont. “Wait…just—”
And that’s when he broke and did something out of character. He tried to prevent her from leaving. He used his chest to hold her down and dragged down his zipper, his breath so labored it bounced off the walls. It only took a split second, that refusal to let her move, and it was so unlike Belmont, they sprang apart immediately afterward. Belmont stood on one side of the bed, both hands on his head, utter disbelief on his face. Sage faced him from the other end, fingers pressed to her mouth, yearning to hold him.
“Jesus. I don’t know what…” He gave a quick head shake, but the horror in his expression didn’t loosen its hold. “I won’t make an excuse. You shouldn’t accept one, either. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
There were a million reassurances in her head. You didn’t mean it. It’s okay. You warned me not to come into the room. But to know Belmont the way Sage did, she knew he would resent her trying to excuse his lapse of judgment. He wouldn’t allow her to take any responsibility for it away from him. So she didn’t try. “I’m going to go now. And tomorrow, we’re going to try to talk again. We’ll find a way through this together. Okay?” She rounded the bed, something inside her snapping in two when he backed away. “I know there’s nothing I can say or do to keep you out of the mine. So I’m going to be right outside waiting for you. We’re going to talk and get through this together, Belmont. Everything is going to be fine.”
* * *
But it wasn’t fine.
The following day, Belmont emerged from the mine looking haunted. His gaze was distant, his cheeks gaunt. And he didn’t even stop when Sage called to him outside the motel. He didn’t answer the door when she knocked.
The next day was the same. He moved right past her, as if she were a ghost, closing himself inside the room without a hint of recognition.
Her nightmare had come to fruition. Belmont was dying. She could see the bright blazing heartiness of him draining away, leaving nothing but a shell. And she could do nothing to comfort him without becoming one half of a relationship she knew would be toxic. She’d seen and lived it and she wouldn’t let them become that. Wouldn’t let Belmont diminish himself that way. She loved him too much.
This was her fight. She’d come to Sibley ready to battle and he’d tried to go to war in her place. But it was still her war. The stakes were simply higher now. If Belmont’s spirit didn’t survive the mine, she would never be able to live with herself. Already she’d lived with guilt over leaving her parents to the devil. She couldn’t do the same to Belmont. It would kill her.
So she would set him free. There were no other options. Not for them.
The first phone call she made was to Peggy.
“Sage!” Even in her state of numb distress, Sage couldn’t help but smile a little over her friend’s trademark exuberance. “What the fuck? We’ve been combing the Interwebs and calling your phones and nada. We thought you guys fell into a giant sink hole. Please tell me you’ve been shacked up in a swanky hotel making up for wasted time.”
Sage’s heart twisted, wishing life could work itself out so easily. “No.” She cleared the rust from her throat. “We’re in Sibley, Louisiana. My hometown.”
Silence throbbed on the line. “I should have known where you were from, Sag
e. We’re best friends.”
“I know.” Sage stared back at her reflection on the hearth’s glass door. “There’s probably a lot you should have known, but I don’t have time to explain any of it now. And I’m so sorry. You’ll have every right to hate me after I tell you this.”
“You’re scaring me here.” Peggy’s chuckle was packed full of nerves. “Whatever it is, we’ll fix it. I’ve got freaking Aaron on standby, and boy, if you thought he was a machine before, you should have seen him after that call from Bel.”
“What call?” Sage tried to massage away the sudden headache, but the searing discomfort only worsened. “Never mind. Belmont…he’s in trouble, Peggy. You have to get everyone down here. You have to force him to go home.”
When her friend spoke again, it was all worry, no teasing. “Sage, is my brother hurt?”
“No. Not in the way a doctor could see.” She needed to get off the phone. The longer it went on, the more she would have to explain, and God. God, after three days of not being able to reach Belmont—even with him standing right in front of her—she was empty. She’d been drained of all her energy and there was nothing left but misery. “He’s in the motel in Sibley. Room seven. You need to come right away, Peggy. Tomorrow morning, if you can.”
“I’m already packing.” Peggy was crying now, drawers slamming in the background. “Elliott!”
Sage hung up and stared at the phone, wondering if it would be the last time she ever spoke to her best friend. Her next phone call made that a possibility.
Augie answered on the first ring. “This is Augustine Scott.”
She ignored the voice at the back of her mind, begging her to disconnect the line. “I have three conditions,” she said. “And then I’ll…marry you.”
“And what might they be?”
The amount of glee in those five words made Sage’s stomach rebel, so she breathed in and out through her nose. “You don’t let Belmont go back into the mine. You revoke his access.”
