His hand engulfed her breast, caressing, teasing the nipple with feathery touches.
He moved against her. Just a rocking of his hips at first. She had to grow accustomed to him. He held her tightly as he moved, as if he was afraid she would run from him, as if he thought this dream would vanish.
Aurora’s arms pulled him closer and her hips answered his movement, tentatively lifting to meet Damien’s thrusts.
Damien slid out of her slightly and then eased back in, filling her. Out and in. Friction heated their bodies. Again he moved. Oh, sweet glorious heaven. He was so close to release it was agony to refrain from spilling his seed into her.
She lifted her hips to his again, matching the movement of his body. She clung to him, holding his shoulders.
He dropped his head to her breasts, sucking and licking.
Aurora groaned beneath him in an answering need. She wiggled and twisted her body, arching her breast into his mouth. She entwined her hands behind his head, pulling him closer.
He devoured her tender skin, tasting, licking, sucking. He moved forward, thrusting into her with heated need. Again and again. He lifted his head and took her lips in a primal kiss. He cupped her bottom and lifted her hips until he filled her completely.
Aurora gasped, her body lifting to meet his. She trembled, her hands clasping his shoulders in ecstasy.
He pulled back to watch her face contort in blissful surrender. And then, only then, did Damien allow himself to release inside of her.
Chapter Thirty Two
Damien held Aurora to him, possessively. He kissed the top of her head, the length of her smooth body hotly pressed along the length of his. “Are you all right?” he wondered.
She smiled against his chest and nodded.
He grinned into the damp locks of her head. She was his. The thought brought such contentment, such joy to his weary soul he dared not move lest he find it all some wonderful dream.
Aurora sat up. She made no move to cover herself from his view. His eyes dipped to feast on her wondrous breasts. Desire began to stir inside of him, but he pushed it aside and reached for his clothing. He had to get her out of here. It had been reckless and impulsive to take her here. The assassin could still be lurking around. Yet, he knew if he stared at her body for too long, his need to have her again would tidal wave over him. He stood and pulled on his leggings and started toward the entrance.
“Damien!” Aurora called, desperately.
The fear and nervousness in her voice tightened his stomach and he turned to her.
She sat on the mattress, on her knees. Her eyes were wide, her hands twisting anxiously in her lap. She looked forlorn and lost and afraid.
Damien went to her immediately. “I’m not leaving you. I was just going to take a quick look outside.” He took her hands into his. “They won’t hurt you again.” He hated himself for ever having disappointed her. He hated that she was afraid now. But mostly, he hated the feeling of failure settling heavily in the bottom of his stomach. He had allowed someone to sneak up on him, to overcome him and take Aurora. The taste of her lips, the feel of her soft skin had distracted him. He knew it would happen again. If he couldn’t give her protection all of his focus, she would be taken again. Or worse. An assassin could kill her. Or take her away from him. He had been lucky this time.
There was only one way to protect her. He had to tell her the truth. He had to tell her why he came to Acquitaine.
She sighed and her tense shoulders relaxed, but she did not release his hands.
There was acceptance and pride in her gaze as she stared at him.
Would she look at him differently when he told her who he really was? Would she turn from him? A sudden paralysis gripped his body as a tingling of fear wound its way around his heart. Would she hate him? That was something Damien knew he could not bear. Aurora’s rejection. He couldn’t tell her. And yet, he had to.
Aurora smiled at him.
It was as if the clouds parted and the sun shone on him. She was beautiful. Stunningly gorgeous. He needed a moment to gather his courage for the coming admission. Any topic would do. And there was one thing he needed to know. “Who did this to you?”
Aurora’s smile faded and she looked at the branch where she had been tied. She shook her head, her eyes seeing more than Damien could. “I do not know,” she answered. “He wore a mask.”
“Are you certain it was a man?”
Aurora turned to look at him, confusion furrowing her brow. “Yes.”
“Helen has been acting strange lately. She’s just mean-spirited enough to do something like this.”
“Helen?” Aurora echoed, surprised.
“You have to be careful of her, Aurora. She is capable of anything. Even if it was a man who brought you here, that doesn’t mean Helen is not involved somehow.”
Aurora straightened. “Surely, not Helen.”
“Just be on guard with her,” Damien advised.
Aurora nodded.
Damien’s gaze dipped, sweeping her body. And then, a sudden thought occurred to him, a thought so grim the beast inside him shifted and stirred. His eyes and his spirit darkened. “Did the man that took you… did he touch you?”
Aurora’s brow furrowed. “Touch me?”
Damien grit his teeth. He could not keep his hands off of her. How could her kidnapper not have touched her? “Did he… touch you in any inappropriate way?”
Surprise and understanding washed over her face. She blushed slightly and looked away. “No. No. He just… He tied me there and…”
“Your dress,” he insisted. He kept the beast on a leash, reining back his furious rage. “Did he take it from you?”
“Yes,” she admitted softly. “He made me take it off before he tied me.”
“Did he touch you in any indecent way?” Damien’s blood boiled at the thought of any man touching her, decent or indecent.
“No,” she answered. “He did not touch me.”
Still, Damien’s fingers entwined through hers. Whoever took her was still out there. He would try again. It was strange the kidnapper had not harmed her, but Damien was grateful for that. Still, if the kidnapper had been an assassin sent by Roke, he would have ended her life or taken her back to Roke. This kidnapping seemed… wrong. Staged.
Damien’s gaze swept the area. The branch. Aurora tied up like some sacrificial offering, almost naked when he came in. Shivering and cold. But not dead. Not hurt. His thoughtful stare dipped to the straw mattress they sat on. Situated against the wall, with two unused blankets folded on top of it. Almost as if whoever took her wanted someone to find her, and bed her.
Aurora looked down at her fingers wrapped in his protective grasp. “He only took my dress… and my ring.”
“Ring?” Damien echoed.
“My mother’s ring,” she explained.
Roke had demanded the ring as part of the proof the task was done. The ring on her severed finger. Had someone taken her without the heart to finish the mission? Had they taken the ring as proof for Roke?
Aurora looked up at Damien. “It was a family heirloom. The ring I made my mother go back for the night she died.”
Why would someone take her here, take her dress and her ring? It made no sense. If it had been simply for robbery, she would be dead. If someone had wished to ransom her, her ring could have been proof, as could her dress. But the dress had been shredded and left throughout the forest. Like a trail. Chills shot up his spine.
Aurora removed her hands from Damien’s and looked down at her empty finger. “The only other time the ring was off my finger was that night. It was much too big for me and it fell off. But I knew she would be displeased if I lost it, so I begged her to return for it. I begged her.” Aurora looked up at Damien.
Something was not right. Something about a lost ring stirred Damien’s memories. He heard distant voices from his past. An angry woman berating a child about a ring. The voices merged with memories of the sound of water, with wood c
reaking. “Where did your mother die?” he asked Aurora.
Aurora looked up at him with such large, clear eyes Damien wanted to embrace her and soothe the anguish she was experiencing.
“The mill. My mother died at the old mill on the northern border of Acquitaine. It burned down four years after her death.”
“An old mill?” Prickles raced along Damien’s shoulders.
Aurora nodded. “The miller was behind on his tithe. Mother went to demand it. Somehow, the ring came off my finger.”
Shadows of memory flickered in Damien’s mind. Faded light peeled away the darkness to reveal a dim recollection. The mill. Why did the mill set off alarms inside him? He could almost see it in his mind’s eye.
“We went back for the ring. And she was killed.” She stared at her empty ring finger. “The miller found the ring a few weeks later and returned it me… We never should have gone back for it.”
Killed. The word repeated itself in Damien’s thoughts. He reached for one of his black boots. He kept his gaze riveted on the boot so she wouldn’t notice the anxiety gripping him. He had assumed disease had taken her mother Margaret. Or that she had died in some accident. But the shadows in his mind were taking solid form, like perfect paintings being drawn from the memories of his past. The large wheel of the mill, cast in a blue glow from the full moon, came into view on his mind’s canvas. “How did she die?” he asked with trepidation.
Misery glittered in Aurora’s large eyes. Guilt. “There was a shadow. A flash of silver. And then blood.” Aurora’s eyes pooled with liquid. “She fell before me.”
Complete dread clawed at Damien’s body. He could not move. He didn’t want to hear the rest, but he could not stop the truth.
“He looked at me,” Aurora said with a shiver. “The shadow looked at me with cold eyes. Dead eyes. Such black eyes.”
And like lightning forking across the sky, his mind split with the full blast of jarring memories. A woman lying dead. A child hidden in a hooded cloak, a lone blond curl escaping the hood’s confines. The mill wheel slowly turning. A pool of blood. Teary, round eyes, eyes bluer than the deepest sapphire.
“An assassin,” Aurora said softly. “I remember the blade. He was there. Like a living shadow. He looked at me. Those eyes. They were so cold. So evil.”
Damien remembered. Oh Lord, how could he not have remembered? Anguish gripped him tightly; squeezing him until he thought his heart would explode. Her eyes. He had looked into those same blue eyes seven years ago. At the mill.
Where he had killed her mother.
Chapter Thirty Three
Aurora trembled at the memory. Those horrible black eyes, the same eyes that had haunted her nightmares for so long, rose again in her mind to lay claim to her sanity. But this time, she had a barrier, a protector. Damien would never let anything hurt her. She leaned toward him, but he stood so fast she almost tumbled to the ground.
Damien raked a hand through his hair.
Distress pierced her heart like an arrow. She had disappointed him with her weakness, with her fear. “I was twelve years old when it happened,” she tried to explain. “I was afraid. I didn’t know what to do. He could have killed me, too.”
Damien looked at her with such torment that she stood in alarm. “He could never have killed you,” he said.
She reached out and took his hand into her own. “What is it, Damien? What is wrong?”
He hesitated, looking into her eyes, searching desperately for something.
Was he looking for the goodness he had seen earlier? Embarrassed, Aurora bowed her head. “Now you see, don’t you? You see how flawed I am.”
Damien swept her into a crushing embrace of despair. “No, never,” he said, holding her against him. His arms tightened around her, as if he never wanted to let her go.
“Damien –” she whispered, alarmed at his anguish. She wrapped her arms about his strong torso to soothe him.
“I’m not who you think I am,” he whispered into her hair. His voice was thick and strangled. “I never can be.”
“You think so little of yourself,” Aurora said softly, reassuringly, running her hands over the scars on his back. “But you are wrong.”
“I’m an assassin.”
Aurora froze; her hands ceased their gentle comfort. Had she heard him correctly? An assassin?
He stepped back, his head dipped in shame. “I should have told you from the beginning.”
An assassin? Aurora’s image of a black hearted, coldly calculating, vicious killer did not match the character of the man who stood before her. Assassins were horrible, honorless men who killed without emotion, who were paid to wipe out a life. Like the assassin who had killed her mother. Evil.
But this was Damien. He could not be a killer.
A tremor of apprehension sliced through her as a terrible thought occurred to her. What if…? What if he was the one she saw in her dreams? His eyes. She dipped her head to look into Damien’s eyes.
Damien lifted his gaze, meeting her eyes with resolution.
His orbs were dark, dark and anticipatory. But they were not the eyes she remembered. Aurora scowled in confusion. “There must be some mistake.”
Damien shook his head. “This is no mistake. I am an assassin. I was sent here on a mission.”
Shivers raced up and down Aurora’s spine. She studied his face. Grim resolve shadowed the sorrow etched in the tight lines of his brow. He had been sent to Acquitaine. “To kill someone?”
“Yes.”
“Whom?”
He lifted a hand to caress her cheek, to touch her hair. “If I finished this last mission, I was to gain my freedom. My freedom.”
Aurora scowled. “Your freedom?”
“My life is not my own. I am property. I have no freedom.”
“A slave?” she whispered, her heart twisting for him. His scars! What kind of master would harm their slave?
Damien’s jaw hardened. “My master bought me many years ago. He trained me, taught me to be a killer. Manipulated me. The one thing I wanted more than anything was my freedom. And he knew it. He offered my freedom as reward for completing this one last mission.” His dark eyes followed the curve of the curl that lay in his palm. “But I couldn’t do it. I failed. And there will be repercussions.”
“Who were you sent to kill?”
His eyes lifted to hers. “You.”
Aurora’s eyebrows arced in surprise. She took a slow step back away from him. “But you saved my life.”
“I was saving you for myself. I didn’t want another assassin taking my freedom from me. If someone else killed you, then I would have failed and my freedom would be lost. But then, I began to care for you. I didn’t want you hurt. I became your bodyguard.”
Aurora’s heart melted. He cared for her. “Then you are not truly an assassin.”
“Make no mistake. I am an assassin. The worst there has ever been.”
Still, Aurora refused to believe what Damien was telling her. How could this be true? How could her Damien be the worst killer there ever was? He was kind and noble and brave.
“I was never given a choice. No one ever gave me a choice. Kill or be killed. Those were my options.”
Her heart ached for the hardships he must have endured. An outpouring of compassion engulfed Aurora. His life had been brutal. Unfair.
“I was trained to be a killer. It is part of my soul. It is who I am.”
Aurora shook her head. “Who you were.”
“I can’t escape my past, Aurora,” he said softly. “Not even for you.”
Part of her was screaming this could not be true! His hands, so gentle and tender with her, had taken lives. He killed people. Had they been innocent people, defenseless people? Or had they been warriors? She opened her mouth to ask him, and then promptly shut it. She did not want to know. She saw him kill before. The assassin in the forest. But that was different. He had been protecting her! Had he actually taken the lives of people who were unable to def
end themselves? She scowled at her thoughts. This was Damien. She knew him. She knew what kind of man he was. She lifted her chin slightly. “Then stop.”
Damien met her gaze with confusion.
“You are being given the choice now. Stop. Take a different direction.”
Damien clenched his jaw tight. “It doesn’t work like that. If I fail to complete this mission, I will be punished and others will come to complete it.”
Aurora shook her head, desperately. There must be some way to help him.
“It would not be fair to ask you to live a life with a man like me.”
Aurora reached up to him, touching his cheek gently. But his jaw was hard.
“You should marry someone honorable and good. I am none of those things,” he said. “You see me as something I am not and never can be.”
“You have done only good and honorable acts around me.”
“You make me good. You make me honorable.”
“You make yourself good and honorable.” She reached out to place her flat palm against his chest, over his heart. “It is inside of you. I can see it.”
Damien shook his head, straightening away from her. “You see only the good in people,” he said. “It is not the other people who are good. It is you. It is all you are capable of seeing. But you can’t see the bad in people. And I am the worst.”
“Damien –”
“You don’t understand,” Damien insisted. “I have done things… terrible things. Things I cannot be forgiven for.”
“My God forgives anything,” Aurora said softly. “As do I.”
Damien grit his teeth in anger. “Why can’t you see?” He lifted his arm and showed her the mark, revealing the black circle with the black x branded into his flesh. “Look. I’m marked. A reminder of who I am, who I will always be.” He lowered his arm. “Why can’t you see what a monster I am? Why can’t you look at me and see my real self? I stand before you telling you who I am and still, you can’t see me. You won’t see it! Must I tell you what I’ve done? Must I confess my sins to you?”
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