Transcending Darkness

by Airicka Phoenix

  Marcus Lozano wasn’t the head of any business or corporation. He was second in command to William Lozano, his father. But William had no patience for the petty back and forth that took place once a month, every month like clockwork. Honestly, if Killian had a second in command, he would do the same thing. But the truth was that he liked knowing where his enemies stood. He liked knowing their game plan, even if they all lied.

  Most nights, watching the five squabble and toss around idle threats was mildly entertaining, but Killian couldn’t stand it any longer. The feeling coursing through him, the itchy sensation scuttling beneath his skin made him want to leap up and pace. Hell, it made him want to leave the room and let them sort it out on their own. It wasn’t like they really needed him there. He wasn’t even participating, just sitting there, waiting for someone to say something useful.

  “Gentlemen, and ladies,” he added quickly, inclining his head to the only two women in the chat. “I unfortunately have another meeting that requires my attention. Please send me an email when a decision has been made. Goodnight.”

  He shut off before anyone could think to protest or attempt to make him stay. The moment the screen went blank, he became profoundly aware of the humming inside his skull. But he ignored it as he got to his feet and made his way to the door. Frank was nowhere in sight, but Killian knew it only took a murmur of his name to summon the man from wherever he was lurking.

  Strides quick, he made his way to his room in no time at all. But something made him turn the knob quietly, like a part of him had almost expected to find Juliette curled up on the bed, asleep.

  She wore the black skirt with the red blouse. Her bare legs were curled almost to her chest. One hand was loosely curled next to her slightly parted mouth. But it was her hair he was most fascinated with. It was unbound, a chaotic mess of waves spilling across the pillow. In the dim light of the setting sun, the strands shone like spun gold.

  Moving to her side, Killian perched on the corner of the mattress and studied the play of colors that only seemed to come out in different lighting. In the approaching hours of dusk, he could just make out hints of auburn and dark brown.

  He lightly plucked up a coil that had been resting along the curve of her neck and wound the silky texture around his finger. All blonde with just a hint of brown.

  Juliette sighed in her sleep. Her sooty lashes fluttered but remained splayed across the soft contours of her cheeks. She shifted half onto her back, tugging the strand of hair from his grasp when she turned her head away from him.

  He let it go, his focus captured by the firm swell of one breast peeking out through the gap in her blouse. The voice in his head wondered if she was wearing that lacy bra she’d bought to torture him with. The one that had held her breasts to their full perfection and had converted his brain to soup upon sight. It was an image that had haunted him all day, scattering his thoughts mid conversation and making him lose hours at a time just reminiscing. But it was her mouth that had enslaved him. The things she had done with just her tongue. Christ.

  “Full of surprises,” he murmured quietly to himself as he peered down at the slip of a woman taking up far too much time and space in his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

  Juliette didn’t answer. He wasn’t expecting one, but he continued to study her, taking note of just how vulnerable she looked in sleep. Such a change from the fierce, passionate woman who claimed his bed or stormed into his office like she’d like nothing better than to take a switch to his ass. The very idea was hilarious, he was twice her size, but in that moment, she seemed capable of just about anything.

  Killian chuckled quietly to himself and realized with a start that he’d been doing that a lot lately. Laughing, chuckling … smiling. While he knew he wasn’t incapable, he truly couldn’t recall the last time he’d done any of those things. Maybe not since his mother’s death. There hadn’t been much to be happy about after that.

  “Killian?” Juliette opened bleary eyes and squinted up at him. A small smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “Hi.”

  Every muscle in his stomach clinched at that simple gesture. His chest cavity seemed to shrink, compressing his lungs and heart until both were struggling to keep him alive.

  How did she do that?

  “Hi,” he breathed out around the constriction.

  She yawned behind her hand and struggled upright. The left side of her face, the one that had been mashed into the pillow, was pink and streaked with lines. It took all his willpower not to reach out and stroke the skin, to feel the warmth of it.

  “I must have dozed off,” she murmured, casting a glance over to the window and the navy blue creeping across the heavens. “Is it very late?”

  “No.” He rose to his feet, needing a modicum of space to regain some of his composure. “Are you hungry?”

  “I’m all right,” she said a bit too fast. “I can wait until I get home.”

  Frustration lifted his shoulders in a deep exhale. “Are you hungry?” he repeated, more firmly.

  She looked up at him. “I can wait—”

  “Christ, woman! It’s a simple enough question. Are you hungry?”

  Her lips pursed in an annoyance that all too quickly dissolved into a smile that turned into a laugh.

  “If you’re so adamant to feed me, then yes, I’m hungry.”

  Glowering without heat, he offered her his hand and helped ease her off the bed. He kept his fingers locked around hers as he led them down towards the kitchen. It wasn’t until they reached the hall of windows that he noticed how short she was walking next to him. Most people usually were compared to him, but she normally came to his shoulders. She was now barely at the center of his chest.

  “Where are your shoes?” he asked, realizing she wasn’t wearing any.

  Juliette shrugged nonchalantly. “John is probably setting the devils on fire.”

  Killian blinked. “What?”

  She peered up at him, her eyes shining with mischief. “They hurt my feet. They had to die.”

  Maybe it was her sly little grin or the way her nose crinkled just a bit when she said die, but something in him cracked and he was reaching for her before he could stop himself. His hands closed around her arms and he jerked her into his chest. Her gasp was swallowed by the mouth he slanted down hard over hers. His hand closed in her hair to cup the base of her skull. He crushed her to him as he devoured the sweet taste of her like a man starved.

  Juliette moaned and melted into him. The sound vibrated against his lips as thin arms wound their way around his shoulders. Firm breasts mashed into his chest, the nipples hard points of arousal stabbing through both their tops. Toned thighs cradled up against his until she was perfectly aligned with every inch of him. Yet it wasn’t even close to being enough.

  “Christ!” he groaned, his hold tightening on her.

  Slim fingers tangled through his hair, holding his mouth over hers as she nipped lightly on his bottom lip.

  “Take me back to bed, Killian.”

  The very core of his being agreed with her husky murmur. His hands even started lifting her up into his arms. But that part of him, that little voice that reminded him her wellbeing needed to come before his needs, propelled him back to sanity.

  “No.” Breathing hard, he jerked back just enough to breathe in something other than her sweet, musky scent. “You need to eat first.”

  Brown eyes shimmered up at him with the sort of dark hunger that implied that she would be eating if he did what she asked. It was nearly impossible to ignore.

  “Stop it!” Drawing back his hand, he swatted her smartly on the left ass cheek, making her yelp and blink with surprise. “Food first.”

  The corner of her mouth twisted downward, but she didn’t protest when he led her the rest of the way to the kitchen.

  Leaving her to find a spot at the island, Killian made his way to the fridge. Molly’s neatly labeled containers sat in several neat rows in the freezer. Any one of them
would take mere minutes to heat up, but something stopped him. Maybe it was because he was tired of stew and broth. Maybe it was because he just didn’t want to stay home, but he turned to Juliette and found her gone. The kitchen was empty, save for him.

  Bemused, he shut the freezer door and went in search of her and found the French doors open to the garden. Something tightened in his gut, a swell of dread that had no grounds. Aside from the gardener and himself, no one had ever been out there, not since his mom.

  Moving carefully, he stepped out onto the stone patio and spotted Juliette almost immediately.

  She stood at the railings overlooking a soft landscape of neatly trimmed grass surrounded by an array of flowers and shrubbery. A stone pathway cut along the side of the house and disappeared around back to where the garden really started, but she stayed on the patio.

  “It goes on,” he told her, breaking the silence.

  Juliette turned her head and met his gaze. “Show me?”

  He should have said no. His home had too many ghosts and he didn’t care to share them with anyone. Instead, he found himself moving towards her. Found his hand slipping into hers. He guided her down the steps to the path.

  The humid day had cooled to a soft, whispering breeze that wafted through the branches of a nearby oak tree. The leaves shivered, flashing almost silver in the fading light. Alongside him, Juliette’s bare feet made no sound at all as they turned the corner and came upon the main part of the garden.

  “Oh my God!”

  While most people had swimming pools and tennis courts in their backyard, his mother had built a paradise. Her own personal Eden, she’d called it. Growing up, Killian remembered being dragged across the globe in search of new ideas to bring home to their backyard. His mother had taken a bit of every place and somehow made it all possible right there in a breathtaking jungle of wonder. Flowers in all shapes, colors, and sizes ran rampant on either side of the path that wound deep into the heart of the maze. Trees and shrubbery loomed high and powerful in makeshift alcoves for sitting. A creek cut beneath a bridge that branched off into different sections. Each one held a new secret, secrets even Killian hadn’t discovered. It was three hundred and thirty acres of magic just waiting to be explored.

  “This is … incredible!” Juliette breathed. Her hand slipped from his and she started forward. “It must have taken years to create.”

  Thirteen, to be exact. His mom had started plans for the garden before the house was even built.

  “A while,” he said, following her. “My mom loved the smell of soil. She liked the feel of it wet between her fingers. She’d spend hours out here, weeding and planting and growing things, even though she had an army of gardeners.”

  Juliette shook her head. “No, something like this, you need to do it yourself to really feel pride in it. You can tell she loved what she was doing.”

  “You should see the conservatory,” he said.

  Juliette chuckled. “If I ever leave this place.” She exhaled. “I would have loved to be here as a little girl. It’s like a fairy garden.”

  “That’s what my mom used to call it. She’d tell me that at night, when I was sleeping, all manner of creatures would crawl out of their hiding places and duel to see who was stronger. The elves, who were good and just, would battle the trolls, who wanted to destroy everything beautiful. During the summer, the elves would win and everything would bloom. Come fall, the trolls would dominate and everything would die. In the winter, both sides would hibernate, collecting their strength until spring when the elves would beat the trolls and unleash beauty on earth once more.”

  Juliette laughed. “Your mom was clever, and very creative. I like that story.”

  Killian gave a silent chuckle. “She was full of stories.”

  “My mom used to read from books,” Juliette recalled. “Shakespeare mostly. She loved Shakespeare. She used to say that was why she married my dad, because the second she heard his last name, Romero, she knew he’d been meant for her. She’d climb into my bed and we had this fat book of Shakespearian plays and she’d say how Vi and I were both named after her favorite characters.” Her tone had taken on a wistful tone that made him want to draw her into his arms. “What were your parents like?”

  It was strange, but no one had ever asked him that before. Most of the people he knew had known his parents. The rest … well, it wasn’t their business. So it took him a moment to think of something to say.

  “Mom was beautiful,” he began. “Everyone loved her. It was hard not to. She had this aura around her that pulled people to her. She was kind and so giving. My dad used to tease that she would give her soul away if it meant saving another person. She loved to laugh. I remember her laughing and dancing a lot when I was growing up. But she had a temper.” He heard himself laugh. “Her Irish was strong, my dad would say. God help the poor soul that got in her way when she got her head fixed on something. My dad … he was a good man. He was fair and kind. He loved his family. I can’t remember a single time when he didn’t drop whatever he was doing to play with me. I never got told one minute or later. Nothing was more important than me and my mom.”

  He broke off, horrified not just by how hot the skin around his face had grown, but by how easily she had coaxed something out of him that he hadn’t shared with anyone. The memories burned behind his eyes and lodged in his throat. He stared hard at the path beneath his feet and tried not to curse.

  A small, cool hand slipped into his, silent, but screaming with so much emotion he almost jerked back. That simple gesture slammed into him with the weight of an iron fist; it had been so long since anyone had given him comfort, he had no fucking idea what he was supposed to say.

  But she didn’t seem to want any words. Her fingers threaded through his and they walked on in absolute quiet.

  Nearly an hour later, they returned to the estate. Killian shut the terrace doors and turned to the woman next to him. She was peering down at her feet, at the dirt clinging to pale skin. Her nail polish had chipped in several places, he noted when she wiggled her toes. Her head came up and her eyes met his.

  “I should clean up before I get dirt all over you floor.”

  It didn’t bother him, but he showed her to the washroom and left her there while he decided on supper. Molly’s care packages were out and it was too late to get a reservation anywhere decent. He decided on takeout, Chinese, preferably. He made the call quickly, ordering two of everything off the menu before walking down the hall to leave money with the guard stationed outside.

  He was about to head back inside when he caught sight of John leaning against the side of the SUV parked out front. He had a cigarette in one hand and his phone in the other and was idly flipping through it. Killian wondered if he should ask the other man how Juliette’s first day had gone, if anyone had given her any trouble, if she was able to fit in, and if she was happy. But he opted against it. Instead, he shut the door and ventured back to the kitchen just as Juliette left the washroom—her feet clean.

  “I am ready to eat a horse,” she declared.

  “I am out of horse, but I do have beef and broccoli on the way if that works for you.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Chinese? I love Chinese!” Her eyes narrowed. “Molly is not going to appreciate you not eating her home cooked meals.”

  “I’ll eat them,” he muttered. “And whose side are you on anyway?”

  The little witch didn’t even pause to consider her answer.

  “Hers.”

  Killian glowered. “And why is that?”

  Juliette shrugged. “Because she scares me.”

  “And I don’t?”

  Her head bent to one side and she regarded him with a soft sort of smile. “You did that first night.”

  He wanted to tell her that was only a few weeks ago, that she couldn’t possibly stop being scared of someone in that short of time. But then he hadn’t expected to like her as much as he did in that time frame either so maybe it was the same th
ing. Plus the idea of her being afraid of him bothered him.

  “Well, that’s unacceptable,” he stated.

  She simply laughed and started for the kitchen. Killian followed, watching the sway of her hips and the bounce of her hair along her back. She walked with purpose. It wasn’t exactly graceful or sexy, but it was captivating. It was the strides of someone who had no time for bullshit. He liked that.

  At the island, she spun around on her heels and faced him.

  “So, what do we do to pass the time?”

  Anything but talk, he thought miserably. Already he’d divulged more in a single hour than he felt comfortable with. She had a way of drawing him into her web and it was dangerous. Not just for him, but for her. Somehow, he needed to remind her that what they shared out in the garden—clearly a huge mistake on his part—could never happen again. There could never be another heart to heart. Their arrangement needed to remain indifferent and physical only. Emotional attachments could get her killed; and, God help him, but he knew he’d lose his fucking mind if he let that happen.

  Killian kissed her. He didn’t mean to, but every ounce of his frustration seemed to pour into the single melding of mouths. His hands framed her face, holding her to him as he forced her back. She made a sound, like a squeak when her back came up against the island. Killian released her long enough to grab her hips. He lifted her up onto the smooth marble.

  She didn’t protest or try to stop him. Her eyes were dark and watchful, waiting to see what he’d do next.

  “Undo your blouse,” he told her.

  His own hands moved up the soft, warm flesh of her outer thighs to the lush curve of her hips. His gaze stayed on her hands as they fluttered with ease to the first button. He vaguely recalled the first time he’d asked her to remove her top, back in the limo their first night. He remembered how her fingers had trembled and how tight her jaw had gotten. There was none of that now as she slipped button after button through the neat holes.