Heart Ache (Bound by a Touch Novels #1)

by Morgan Kearns

  She clamped her hand over her mouth and pulled away. His eyes were enormous, filled with a panic that sent her heart racing. Something definitely wasn’t right.

  “Wh- what … holy crap!” A grin spread under her hand.

  “You were—” He dropped to his knees next to the bed and lowered his head into his hands. “I am a selfish bastard,” he told her.

  She reached out and pushed a black lock from his forehead, loving him even more.

  He sighed deeply. “I’m no better than my father.”

  Gabby leaned down and kissed the top of his head, kissed his forehead, and as he raised his head, she kissed his tear slicked cheeks and lips.

  “You are not your father. You are a man who rescued his woman from hell. You saved me—”

  “By taking away your choice.” He pulled away.

  His guilt was palpable in its consumption. She heard it in his tone, saw it in his movements. As he stood with his arms stretched tensely between the door jamb and his head hanging heavily, she followed him. His muscles jumped when she touched him. He sucked in a breath, but didn’t flee.

  “Niko, look at me.” He didn’t. “Nikolai Voinea, dammit, look at me!” She ducked under his arm and stood on her tiptoes to glare at him in the eye. “You are a stubborn sonofabitch, you know that?” She slapped him and her hand stung.

  “I deserved that,” he muttered, rubbing his cheek.

  “Do you think for one second I haven’t figured out what happened?” She leaned up on her tiptoes and eased his hand away from his cheek, pressing a kiss to it. “You’ve changed me.”

  He squeezed his eyes together like he had a migraine, rubbed his temples then crammed his palms into his eye sockets, and she noticed he wasn’t breathing.

  “Do you think for one second I can find any regret for that?”

  His eyes opened.

  “You are not your father, Nikolai, because this woman wanted to be changed. There is nothing I want more than to spend the rest of my life as your wife.” Taking his face between her hands, she kissed him, a quick peck to get his attention. “I love you, Nikolai. Do you understand? There is nothing to forgive, because you gave me what I wanted; you. Forever.”

  Nikolai’s ears worked just fine. It was the comprehension he seemed to be struggling with. Gabrielle was speaking, but he’d be damned if what she said made any sense. He stared at her dumbly. Her beautiful blue eyes twinkled. She smiled brightly.

  Her hands gripped his arms. Hard. She shook him. “Nikolai.” She shook him again. “Do you understand?”

  He didn’t. How could she possibly still love him?

  It was his fault she’d been taken in the first place. His fault her body had been abused. His heart broke into a thousand pieces as he looked down at her. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, to pull her close and never let her go. He wanted to marry her and make love to her every day—multiple times a day—until the end of time.

  Her palm met his face again, and as his eyes watered, he blinked frantically. The first slap had stunned him. This one shocked him stupid. She took his face between her hands, stroked his cheeks with her thumbs. Her beautiful cobalt eyes sparkled.

  “Niko, I love you.” She pressed her lips to his. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” She kissed him again. “I cannot say those words enough.” She dropped down onto one knee and took his hand in hers.

  The out of body experience continued. He was there, of course. He felt. He heard. He loved. Goddess, did he love. He loved the female who now knelt before him. Knelt before him.

  “Gabrielle, what are you…?”

  “Marry me,” she blurted.

  His heart screamed yes, but even as the pleading in her eyes froze him from the inside out, his pride wouldn’t allow it. He shook his head. “I can’t.”

  “Give me one good reason why you can’t.” She remained on her knee, his hand still firmly in hers. Burnt rubber doused her lovely scent. Her voice was strong, but her eyes revealed her hurt—and anger.

  “I promised—”

  She stood and pushed him backward until his knees met the edge of the bed and he sat. “You listen to me. You’ve spent centuries worried you’d turn into your father. You have.”

  Her words were more effective than her palm against his cheek. They were sharper than the sharpest blade, slicing his insides to ribbons.

  “I’ll be damned, but you have. You are such a self-centered bastard you’re not even considering the thoughts and feelings of the woman you say you love.” Tears flooded over her lids and rolled slowly down her cheeks as she continued, “It’s all about what you want, what you think I want.”

  “And what do you want?”

  “You!” she screamed. “I hate what that … that … that bitch did to me. I hate she altered our future. But she only altered it, Niko. We didn’t choose the way things happened, but it was inevitable. In-ev-it-able! I. Love. You!” She closed her eyes tight, sighed heavily, and dropped to her knees again. “Marry me. Make me your wife.”

  “This isn’t right.” He stood, his heart bursting. He knew he had to make this up to her. She’d all but begged him to marry her, but he was old-fashioned. It wasn’t the female’s responsibility to ask that question.

  He heard the door slam just as he popped into his office. There was no way he was going to allow her to propose to him. Technically they were already engaged. Natasha may have taken his ring from Gabby’s finger, but she could never rip his heartmate from his heart.

  He pulled the picture away from the wall behind his desk and opened the safe. The little black velvet box held his mother’s wedding band. He’d planned to put it on Gabrielle’s finger the day he stood before her Christian God and promised to love her forever.

  As she’d said, things had been altered.

  He would give this to her now, and replace the large diamond later. It angered him that his mother’s diamond was gone, but as long as he had Gabby by his side, he would gladly give everything else away.

  He slid the box into his pocket, closed the safe, replaced the portrait, and sent his essence flying back to just outside her door.

  He held his breath and knocked.

  “Go away!”

  He knocked again, louder. “Open the door.”

  “Bite me!”

  He popped himself from one side of the door to the other. “I’d like that very much,” he growled, low and deep.

  She whipped around, perfectly healed hands perched on her hips, and glared at him. “I said, go away.”

  “You also asked me to bite you.” He stalked across the room. She backed up until her back met the wall. Breath rushed from her lungs in a gasp. Arousal was sweet in the air, and anger was bitter. He eased right up to her, sandwiching her between his body and the wall. Her eyes flashed wide then she dropped her ear to her shoulder. She was daring him.

  Refusing to over think another thing, he struck. His fangs slid through her porcelain skin easily. She moaned, her hands gripped his shoulders with frenzied intensity. She tasted like heaven. He sucked hard, taking her into himself.

  The bitter scent of her anger melted away, her sweet arousal replacing it until the air was thick with the scents of lemongrass and coconut. He eased his hands around and gripped her by the ass. He lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. With a growl, he swiped at the wounds with his tongue, then his lips found hers and he moved toward the bed where he sat down.

  Buttons flew, pinging when they hit the floor, as she ripped his shirt open. Tender, loving fingers met the skin of his abdomen and slowly, torturously moved up his pecs and over his shoulders. The cotton of his shirt felt like sandpaper as it shifted down his arms. She pushed him down, trapping his arms in the sleeves of his shirt that was stuck behind his back.

  An evil smile crossed her lips. She straddled him, ground her hips into his. He groaned, unable to do anything but grab onto the comforter to keep from ripping the sleeves off his shirt. She laughed, leaning down to press her l
ips to his chest. Every muscle in his body jumped, tensed, screamed as her tongue licked from abs to pecs to neck.

  His head lolled to the side. He hadn’t meant to, but he’d offered himself to her. It surprised him in the best way possible when her fangs pierced his skin. With each strong pull, he grew more aroused, more excited. He loved that he flowed through her veins, and had to be in her, buried deep.

  He wasn’t sure how it happened, but in seconds he had Gabrielle—and himself—gloriously naked. He kissed her, worshipped every inch of her.

  She matched his enthusiasm. But as Nikolai settled between her thighs she stiffened. Her eyes flew open, full of panic. He slowly leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “It’s just—”

  “I know.” His heart ached as he remembered what had been done to her. He went to move off her, and she grabbed his shoulders, digging her fingers into his flesh.

  “No.” She shook her head. Tears filled her eyes. “I want to do this. Right here, right now. Make love to me, Niko. Make me forget.”

  “You’re sure?” he asked, because he wasn’t.

  She didn’t say anything. She just pulled him close and kissed him. The moment her tongue pushed between his lips, he was completely helpless, and he answered her siren’s call.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I can’t believe any of this.” Elizabeth walked slowly around the room, gathering up the various tools of torture. Her creamy countenance had taken on a slightly green hue and she kept rubbing at her stomach. “Natasha is a kind, genteel person. She couldn’t have—”

  “She did,” Stephon said matter-of-factly. He told his heartmate of the cruel podcast they’d endured and the brutalities Gabby had suffered.

  Tears filled her eyes and ran in tiny rivulets over her freckles. She dropped to her knees and cradled her face in her hands.

  “I am so sorry,” she whispered. “I am so very sorry.”

  Stephon’s beating heart broke in that moment. He focused on his heart. Closing his eyes, he ordered the beating to slow to a painful stop. He took a breath then slowly made his way through the puddle on the floor to sit down next to her.

  Without conscious thought, he put his arms around her. She cuddled into him, laying her head on his chest.

  There were some things a male couldn’t fake or deny: an arousal, an orgasm, a heartbeat. Stephon was no different; fake them, no. Deny them, never. Control them? Yes, he could. Which was a damned lucky thing because the female in his arms had no idea what she was to him, what she meant to him. And it scared the hell out of Stephon to know how she would react if she did.

  He rested his cheek against her head and held her as sobs ripped through her. She felt the guilt of her sister’s actions. She bore the humiliation. She would also find the strength to make her sister pay.

  A soft sniffling preceded her movement. Elizabeth pulled away from him and wiped at her nose with the back of her hand.

  “Looks like I’ve got some work to do.”

  In a matter of moments, Elizabeth was on her hands and knees frantically scrubbing at the blood marring the cement floor of her beloved greenhouse. Bright yellow gloves covered her hands and arms to the elbows. Her face flushed from exertion and from the tears that seemed to be on an invisible switch with a mind of its own. Her damp hair had begun to dry where it circled her neck, forming blond ringlets. Her robe had fallen open, exposing her left breast. As beautiful as it was, he only felt concern for the female before him.

  He dropped down on his haunches next to her, taking the rag from her hand. “Here let me help you.”

  She paused and looked up at him like she hadn’t realized he was still in the room. She wore a shell-shocked expression that worried him.

  “Elizabeth, honey, let me help you.” He took her by the upper arms to help her to her feet. “Why don’t you go upstairs and get dressed. I’ll clean up.”

  “Are you—” She blinked, then shook her head as she looked at the remnants of the horrors that had happened in this very room only hours before. “I can’t ask you to do that, Stephon.”

  “You didn’t ask, Lizzy, I offered.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Please. Let me do this for you.”

  He wanted to do anything for her—everything for her. He’d loved her for over a hundred years, and would love her until the end of time.

  She kissed him chastely on the lips and stepped away from him. “You’re a good friend to me, Stephon. Thank you.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” he said to her back.

  He watched until she’d disappeared completely, and turned his gaze to the task at hand. There was a hose attached to a faucet on the wall, and he wondered why she’d resorted to scrubbing. The room was concrete, the tables metal, and as if it was a gift from the Goddess, there was a drain in the middle of the floor.

  Elizabeth showered again. She felt dirty. She scrubbed at her skin with her loofa, but what she really wanted was to scour herself with steel wool—and bleach.

  Damn you, Natasha!

  How dare she desecrate the room where Elizabeth found solace? It was the one place she’d found peace after her father’s murder, where she’d gotten consolation following her mother’s funeral.

  Natasha had done some terrible things over the years, but in the last month she’d plunged into depths so low it made Elizabeth sick to think about it.

  She’d always been able to forgive her sister. No more. Natasha needed to pay for the harm she’d caused. Elizabeth wouldn’t rest until her sister could no longer hurt another. Effective immediately, justice not vengeance had become Elizabeth’s life’s mission.

  Her thoughts turned to Stephon. How kind he was. He’d braced her up when she wanted to fall. Right now, he was cleaning up the horrors she didn’t have the strength to wipe away herself. He was a good male, an honorable male. As his face floated across her mind, she smiled, and her heart softened. He was the kind of male she could see herself spending eternity with.

  She finished with her shower, hurried to dry off. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and swiped lotion over her skin. Part of her was desperate to return to Stephon, but a larger part was scared to death.

  For over three-hundred years, she’d protected her heart. But since her mother’s funeral when Stephon had stepped into her life, she’d felt drawn to him. She hated the vulnerability she felt around him.

  Elizabeth was never vulnerable.

  She jumped when the door to her room opened. And her heart stopped for a moment when she heard Stephon’s low sexy voice speak her name.

  “Lizzy?” he called again.

  Goddess, if anyone other than him called her that, she’d be tempted to claw their eyes out. But there was something about it forming on his tongue, crossing his lips that made her melt.

  “Lizzy, baby, you in here?”

  Her hand flew to her towel and held it tight against her body. “In here,” she called back.

  He rounded the corner and stopped abruptly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  She smiled. “It’s not as if you didn’t see everything already.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to bust in on you then either.” He turned his back to her. “Nikolai is going to expect me to go after Natasha.”

  “That’s not your responsibility.”

  Vampire law was clear on matters like these. It was the family’s responsibility to bring their rogue relative to justice. As much as Elizabeth despised the task, she was the one who would make things right.

  “I’ll take care of it,” she informed him.

  Stephon turned to face her. Concern riddled every line of his face, and she had to remind herself to breathe as she looked up to meet his periwinkle stare.

  “You’re right, you have every right to take care of it, but I can’t let you do it alone.”

  “Let me?” She stiffened. “Who do you think you are?”

  His eyes flashed na
vy. His jaw clenched. He rubbed at the back of his neck. He blew a frustrated breath through his teeth, spun in a circle and crowded her, bending so his nose nearly touched hers.

  “I know who I am. Never forget that, Elizabeth Fournier. I know who I am, and I’m not going to let you go after that lunatic alone.”

  “There you go with the ‘letting’ me crap again. I’m my own female, Stephon.” She jammed a finger into his chest. “Don’t you forget that.”

  The muscles in his jaw jumped again. She seemed to be frustrating him as much as he was frustrating her. Which pissed her off.

  Who the hell was he to be frustrated with her? He was nothing more than the private investigator hired by Nikolai to find Gabby.

  An aggravated sigh interrupted her thoughts. “Fine,” he groaned. “You’re your own female. Because she’s your sister, it’s your responsibility to hunt down Natasha, and I believe you’re capable of doing it alone. But—”

  “But?”

  “—why should you when I’m willing to help?” He lifted her chin with his forefinger. Their eyes locked. “Nikolai will want me to hunt her as well. Let’s do this together.”

  Together.

  For some absurd reason, she really liked the idea of having a partner to hunt the female she’d once called her sister.

  “Okay. We’ll do this together. But—”

  “But?”

  “—I’m in charge.”

  He raised a brow. He opened his mouth—with a protest on the tip of his tongue—but snapped it shut. His head jerked with a nod. “Fine,” he said bitterly, “you call the shots.” He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “Now, get some clothes on, we need to go see Nikolai.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The ringing of the doorbell roused Nikolai from his peaceful sleep. He rolled out from under Gabby’s warm, sexy body and grabbed a pair of shorts before popping to the front door.