Pervade Duet: Pervade London & Pervade Montego Bay

by Vanessa Fewings

  It was hard to tear my eyes away from James—the architect of my pleasure and pain. That wicked mouth had delivered blinding pleasure, his charismatic presence placing him firmly at the center of the universe. It made me wonder what drove him, what spurred him on to place himself as king of everything. Or, who made that decision for him.

  Gone were the jeans and shirt from before—he had donned a designer suit, a shiny pair of brogues, and had even put on an expensive watch. His tousled hair had been arranged in a sophisticated style.

  I hate him.

  Hated how he’d drawn me into the center of his flame.

  Had I gone willingly?

  His promise to take me again soon with Xavier present alighted my being, burning me from the inside out. The attraction I felt for him was intoxicating, and even though uncertainty plagued me, I couldn’t walk away. This craving for more of them—more conversations, more shared meals, more passion—was impossible to deny.

  I needed it…needed them.

  As though sensing my stare, James looked up from the screen. He didn’t smile, though, and there was no reassuring gesture. No kindness. With each beat of his heart, he was transforming back into the man I’d first met, reasserting his control.

  Xavier’s eyes were closed as he relaxed during the flight, as though us being whisked away was perfectly normal. He’d gone for a more casual look, wearing jeans and a Polo shirt—and wearing a different pair of shoes than the ones he’d arrived in. He kept clothes back at Ballad’s castle, and I found it unsettling.

  Xavier opened an eyelid for a split second and offered a smile. His way of saying there was nothing to fear.

  I knew better.

  Xavier was my home—which made James the wilderness that led away from him. There was no escaping this experience. No escaping James. My feet were already entangled in the brush and I was tripping to get away.

  And yet my attachment to them always pulled me back.

  From the arrogant glance James gave me, exuding his authority, he could see I was falling for him. If we were ever intimate again, I’d bite his lip and make him bleed—bleed like he was making our hearts bleed for him.

  James eased a sleek briefcase off the seat beside him and pulled out a laptop. He rested it on his knees and cracked it open. He typed away with his focus on the screen.He was missing the picturesque scenery of winding country lanes and endless hedges, the vast stretches of greenery along with the richest tapestries of color.

  I watched him work, hoping there was no end in sight to our ménage-à-trois. My chest tightened when I allowed my thoughts to drift there.

  The helicopter dipped.

  Neither of them flinched. I was the only one gripping my seatbelt like it made a difference and could actually save me if this thing went down—like the Puma that was shot out of the sky because they’d believed Ballad was on board.

  Jesus. I hoped they’d not gotten intel about his latest movements. I’m sure there were perks to his lifestyle, but this sinister threat didn’t make them worthwhile.

  My violin case sat securely on the empty seat on my left. James had strapped it in to keep it from shifting during the flight. Its aged case and what lay within was a reminder of the responsibility of owning it. That Strad brought the promise of a brighter future. Something I could trust.

  This was what my life had become…helicopter rides, castles, and revelations that the world was not as it seemed. And these two enigmatic and complicated men who had vague job descriptions and even greyer connections to power.

  The thought of the last twenty-four hours brought on a tidal wave of emotions. Tendrils of doubt burrowed deep inside me.

  Xavier undid his seatbelt and came over to me, sitting on my right. He took my hand in his and brought it to his mouth, kissing my fingers. Then he offered me a drop-dead beautiful smile. He rested our clasped hands in his lap as though sensing my nervousness.

  Puffs of billowing clouds dissipated to reveal the River Thames twisting through the landscape.

  “You’re missing it,” I told James.

  He looked up at me and blinked, as though replaying my words. Then he turned to look out at the scenery, a curl of a smile at the corner of his lips.

  “What are you working on?” I asked.

  “A speech.”

  “When do you have to give it?”

  He gave me a rueful smile.

  “Can you read some?” I threw in a cute grin.

  James’ long fingers reached for the mouthpiece. “Microphone off, please, Carl.”

  The pilot’s voice crackled through my earpiece. “Got it, boss.”

  I readied myself for the upcoming lecture he was about to deliver—something about not asking too many questions.

  He gave his laptop screen a slight nudge and drew in a breath. “What is the cost of one life?” he began poetically. “Even one life is too high a price to pay. We know this, we feel it in our souls as profoundly as we comprehend it. However, the winds of change have turned against our allies and we are again reminded of our profound history. And, like before, when we refused to bow to tyranny, or cower in the face of evil, we took action. We refused to allow our allies to crumble beneath savage attacks, from savage people. We cannot expect our brothers and sisters, our allies, to endure this on their own. We cannot abandon them. We will not abandon them. It is with a heavy heart, but a strong heart no less, that I say…we must do what is good, what is right, what is honorable…” James’ gaze rose from the screen. “I’m still working on the last line,” he said, using his usual tone of voice.

  “Did you write that?” I breathed.

  “It’ll do.” Xavier winked at him.

  “What’s it for?”

  James tapped his lip thoughtfully. “To persuade.”

  I watched him close his laptop.

  “Seatbelt, Xavier,” said James firmly, sliding his laptop into his briefcase.

  Xavier clipped in his seatbelt and then turned and gave mine a customary tug.

  London came into view.

  And just like that James shut down, as though his connection to this city once more drew his full attention.

  We landed in Regent’s Park, where a black SUV waited for us. We left the helicopter and trudged the distance across the grass to our car, with Xavier carrying my violin case and James leading the way with his briefcase in hand.

  Sitting in the backseat of the car, I turned to Xavier. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll love it.”

  I wanted to ask why we’d left the castle so quickly, but as I’d not been meant to see it, I chose not to remind James how much I’d learned within those mighty walls.

  Recognizing the scenery, my thoughts began to race, wondering what we were doing here. This was a stone’s throw from Camden Market, and one of my favorite towns to visit: Primrose Hill, a quiet village just north of Regent’s Park. It offered visitors the quaintest coffee shops, bookstores, local boutiques, along with picturesque walkways.

  The car slowed to take a corner and I recognized the eclectic homes lining the winding street. The terraced houses and their bright colors made it easy to forget we were still in the city.

  There was a history here. Ours.

  Xavier liked this part of town because H. G. Wells had based his book War of the Worlds in this location. He loved that novel. He got a kick out of walking along the green where the aliens were meant to have landed. It was such a geeky thing to do. Now, I realized he’d been looking for a way to escape those nightmarish details in his head.

  I couldn’t fathom how he endured it.

  It was also during our first trip to Primrose Hill that he’d introduced me to the poems of Sylvia Plath—his way of broadening my education after learning of my compromised one in that secondary school in Devon. Crooking my neck, I could see Plath’s old home, No. 3 Chilcot Square. Fans of her poetry could often be seen outside paying homage to her.

  We, too, had our moment with Sylvia Plath outside he
r home—both of us huddled beneath an umbrella while I read “Lady Lazarus,” setting her words free into the late evening, relishing their rhythm and flow, both of us glancing at the place she’d lived as though some part of her spirit still resided there.

  The car idled at the curb not far from her former home. I gave Xavier a curious glance, a silent question as to why we were here. He gave me nothing.

  The driver opened the rear door for us.

  With me clutching my violin protectively, we got out and walked the short distance to a house that was three doors down from Sylvia’s. The elegant facade and arched windows provided a dash of character. I wondered who lived here.

  This expansive home was in the same style as the others lining the street, except it had elegant brass balconies above the ornate windows.James pulled out a key and threw me a disarming smile before he unlocked the door.

  A lemon-scented foyer greeted our entry. Each of us wiped our shoes on the doormat before walking into the elegantly furnished sitting room. Everything looked new.

  I gave a sideways glance at James and got a wink back.

  I tried to process what was happening.

  “Let me show you around,” said Xavier.

  He led us through the generous upscale living spaces. Warily, I left the masculine décor of the lower floor and followed them to the upper level. We walked in and out of the bedrooms—all six of them.

  “Who owns this place?” I asked.

  “Better than a hotel, right?” said James.

  “It’s yours?”

  “Ours,” said Xavier.

  My mouth went dry. I wished I’d finished that coffee before we’d left James’ estate. We’d been rushed out of there like the place was on fire.

  “Why did we leave the castle so quickly?” I asked.

  “I’m needed here,” said James flatly. “I have an appointment in The House of Commons this afternoon.”

  His admission reassured me that he trusted my confidence at least. I suppressed a smile at the thought as I parted the blinds and peered out at the extensive garden, its privacy protected by a sweeping line of trees.

  “Do you like it?” asked Xavier.

  “You’ll stay?” I asked.

  Xavier glanced at James.

  James approached the window and peered out. “For now, yes.”

  “How long?”

  Xavier pivoted to look at me. “Garden’s nice, right?”

  “We can change the décor.” James shoved a hand in his pocket and turned to look at me. “You’ll continue to act under my guidance, of course.”

  I glared at him. “Under your control?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can come and go?”

  “With certain limitations. You may attend your final audition.”

  “What about teaching?”

  “Cancelled, for now.”

  “But my students—”

  “They’ve been provided with another tutor.” James shrugged it off.

  “You can’t do that.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  Xavier came toward me. “Afterward, you’ll own this place outright.”

  A rush of excitement dissolved as I replayed his words. “After what?”

  “Why don’t we all go into the kitchen?” said James. “I’ll make breakfast.”

  Xavier smiled. “I’ll make coffee.”

  “I don’t want anything,” I lied. “When did you find this place?” I ignored their attempt at playing Martha Stewart to distract me from the news that I was essentially their prisoner. “When did you stock the food?” I added.

  “We move fast.” James smirked. “It’s our specialty.”

  “This is a temporary fuck-pad,” I bit out.

  James didn’t flinch.

  “I’m a temporary plaything?” The sarcasm dripped from my tone. “Instead of playing chess, you get to fuck me.”

  “Don’t,” said Xavier.

  I studied them both.

  “You know why,” said James.

  Hurrying out, I descended the hardwood steps, gripping the banister as I went, and quickly made it to the front door.

  “Emily.” James thundered down the stairs after me.

  I spun to face him. “I need to know what this is!” Because I was seconds from walking out.

  James glanced back to see that Xavier had followed us. Turning to me, he said, “This is essentially a slow goodbye.”

  “Slow?”

  “I need to reacclimate you after all you’ve learned.” He shrugged. “Nothing has changed, Em.”

  “Not even after…” That night when we’d bonded on an entirely new level.

  “Not even after that,” he confirmed.

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re dating a man who does not exist,” he snapped.

  “Xavier?”

  James looked surprised. “I don’t count.”

  “Because you’re allowed to have a life. You’re allowed to exist. To stroll the mighty chambers of Number 10. To wield your power around London.”

  “What you want is incompatible,” he replied calmly.

  “With what?”

  “Being a famous violinist,” he said sharply. “You want to rise in the orchestra. Have a solo career.”

  “I never told you that.”

  “Don’t, James,” said Xavier. “Not now.”

  James ignored him. “I’m giving you this house. How about a ‘thank you’?”

  “How about a ‘fuck you’?” I said.

  James’ jaw clenched with fury.

  I stood defiant. “You took our home away, remember? I once had a place…with Xavier. We had a good life.”

  “You can’t have both, Em,” James said quietly.

  Tears stung my eyes.

  James sighed. “Any attention on you brings attention to Xavier.”

  “And on Pervade?”

  “Don’t call us that,” he said. “Please.”

  “I’ll give up on joining the orchestra.”

  James shook his head. “That choice is not yours to make.”

  Xavier came closer. “I would never ask that of you.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll teach.” I nodded as the pain of what I was offering them hit home. It would be like every bow pulled and every note struck meant nothing.

  “That would destroy you, Em,” said Xavier softly.

  “Not to mention national security,” said James.

  Xavier glared at him. “Seriously?”

  “Yes.” James returned his angry stare. “I’ve been more than generous. I trust you, Em, but if I see that trust broken…”

  I yanked open the door, revealing a burly man in a black suit looking down at me, an earpiece visible beneath his white collar.

  James’ tone turned dark. “Shut the door.”

  The man obeyed the command and closed it.

  I pivoted to face James again. “You can’t keep me prisoner.”

  “It’s protection.”

  I glared at him for twisting the truth. “From who?”

  “Where do I begin?” James delivered coldly.

  “You act like you own me.”

  “Essentially, I do.”

  I let out an exasperated sigh.

  “We can give you what you want,” James said. “If you’ll…submit.”

  What the hell did that mean?

  “Do you need me to convince you this is the right decision?” he continued.

  “You can try.”

  James held my gaze for a few moments.

  Then moved on me fast…

  He cupped my face with an ironclad grip and crushed his lips to mine. Forcing his tongue into my mouth, he punished me with brutal lashes that made my insides melt, setting me on fire with lust, lit by his domination.

  I felt Xavier’s palm at my nape, holding me in place, keeping me still so James could continue his ravishment of my mouth—letting his fantasy play out.

  A moan escaped my lips, muffled by that
brazen mouth of Ballad’s, so harsh and unforgiving. Yet I desired his show of power. It sent tingles into my chest, shooting pleasure down between my thighs and dampening my panties, my nipples beading in response.

  James broke away. “In order to fulfill my promise to Xavier, we needed someplace special. This is it.”

  “What about what I want?”

  “Emily, keep talking. If you want to test my resolve, go ahead.”

  I hated him for saying it…this gorgeous man with the dangerous allure who wielded power over both of us.

  My hand burned with the urge to make contact with his cheek.

  He seemed to read my mind. “I wouldn’t do it if I were you,” he warned.

  “What would happen?”

  “Do you really want to find out?”

  “Fine,” I said, relenting. “How long do we get?”

  He arched a brow. “Much better attitude.”

  “You are death,” I threw his quote back at him. The same one he’d used in his chamber of horrors. Okay, there was that pretty crown in there and I hadn’t seen everything, but something told me it was an array of weaponry that was still bloodied from its victims.

  “Emily, shall we show you the benefit of your compliance?” said James darkly.

  I stared at him, trying to resist giving an answer.

  This wasn’t happening…

  I wasn’t burning up for them, my soul wasn’t yearning for their touch, my core wasn’t thrumming with the promise of pleasure. My entire being wasn’t demanding more control, more sensations rushing through me, owning me.

  If I stayed, we’d create the co-mingling of more memories…ones that would have to last a lifetime. With these unraveling thoughts, my shoulders slumped in defeat.

  If what they were looking for was submission, they were seeing it.

  The promise of the cruel yet luscious way James would direct each lash of his tongue at my sex, each vicious fuck and prolonged pounding that I had come to desire were what I needed now more than my next breath.

  Say yes.

  Accept their passion…all the passion you’re craving.

  Most of all, I needed to accept the inevitable pain that would shatter my soul.

  And maybe, if I dared to stay, I’d bridge Xavier’s transition away from his old life to the one without me. This, after all, was true love.