The art gallery is modern, yet classic. With marble floors and glass walls. The windows look out above the busy city while people of all ages and cultures float from room to room, admiring the artistic eye of the featured photographers.
Deacon’s hand falls to the exposed flesh at the small of my back while he leads me through the crowd. I swear electricity surges from his fingertips. Every time he touches me, my entire body hums.
We stop in front of a black mock wall with four large black and white photos arranged in a square. The one of the man on fire catches my attention first.
“This is what you do?”
“Part of it, yes.”
“And the other part?”
He ignores my question. Which in turn, answers my question. It’s not something I need to know. Yet.
“Life is harsh. The world is an uncomfortable place. If it matters, I make sure people know. Me, David, Johan… the other photojournalists I employ, we don’t paint pictures for people of things that aren’t there. There’s nothing pretty about war, drugs, or poverty.”
“Don’t you worry about what people will think? About the truth.”
He chuckles and moves in behind me, his hand resting on my hip as he speaks in my ear.
“Sensitivity is relative. What is sensitive to you may not be sensitive to someone else. I can’t worry about offending people. I take the picture and think about what to do with it later. A picture is just that… a picture. You see what your mind tells you to see. For me, that picture has sounds, scents, feelings. People crying. People screaming. The smell of death. Fire and ash.” He points over my shoulder to the photo of the burning man. “It stays with you. You carry it. Always.”
I look at the photo of the woman greeting a returning love, and I feel closer to him than ever. He sees the pain of the world. He carries it on his shoulders. And he does what he knows to make it go away, the only way he knows how. “Everything in my world is wrong. I’m surrounded by destruction and sadness. You’re the one thing I’ve found that’s right.”
I know enough about Deacon to know his words aren’t empty. He’s not about flattery or sweet nothings. He’s not made that way. I want to turn around and wrap my arms around him, slip my hands underneath his jacket and clutch his back. As if I’m afraid he’ll disappear if I don’t hold him tight enough.
“My innocence… my inexperience… doesn’t scare you?”
He chuckles and steps closer until his hard body is pressed firmly against my back.
“There’s nothing innocent about what I’m going to do to you.” I gasp a sharp intake of air as his lips brush my neck. “You’re more in tune with my needs than you think. Instinct doesn’t need experience. Like right now. You want me to touch you. I know this because even though you pleased me, I left you soaking wet, dripping with need last night. And now, if I slid my hand underneath this dress, I’d find you the same way.” He inhales my scent, like he can smell my arousal. People walk past, smiling and saying hello. Some stop and look at David’s photographs, others keep moving, consumed in their own conversations. But none of them, not one, knows the darkness of the things he’s whispering in my ear right now. “I want to taste you, Grace. To feel you on my tongue.” It takes all the willpower I can muster not to moan. “Do you want that? To come apart in my mouth?”
“Yes,” I reply, focusing, but not focusing, on the black and white prints in front of us.
“Good. Then come back with me.”
I stumble out of my pleasure-drunk haze.
“To your room? Now?”
He smiles and turns me to face him.
“To South Africa. Tomorrow. Come with me.”
And there it is. The wrecking ball. Crashing into the walls of my heart that he’d slowly been putting back together. It all crumbles to the ground. Shattered. Broken. He’s leaving. And there’s no one to blame but myself. I knew he had to go. I knew he couldn’t stay. He’s here on business. And after tonight that business is over. I can’t leave. Natalie is just now getting her life back together. I promised her I’d help with Lucas. I have to make sure she’s okay.
“You’re the one thing in all this chaos that makes any sense. But… I can’t. I can’t leave my sister. I can’t give up on her.”
My heart stops beating while I wait for his answer. He pulls me close, his forehead against mine. His peppermint breath against my cheek.
“Then we’ll make it work. Because I can’t give up on you.”
In that moment, I know. He is my salvation. He is the half that makes me whole. And I’m not going to let him go.
Epilogue
Grace
Since Natalie’s been here, I’ve spent nearly every other evening at Tranquility. I make a point to stop by on my way home from work, so she doesn’t feel so alone. Lucas isn’t allowed to visit yet, but I’m hoping that changes very soon.
“How’s she doing?” I ask Dr. Trujillo, Natalie’s attending physician.
“Today was a good day.”
We didn’t have many of those in the first month, so his words are a breath of fresh air.
“Can I see her?”
“Of course.”
The receptionist smiles a familiar smile as I walk past a large fountain to the inpatient ward of the facility. The smooth sounds of tranquil water bounce off the glass walls of the main area. One of my favorite things about this place is the special attention they give to making everyone under this roof feel as comfortable as possible.
Natalie waits for me, her legs curled under her as she cozies into the corner of the oversized chair in her room. Her eyes light up with gratitude when my hand pushes away the weight of the heavy wooden door.
“What? No pizza today?”
“Rumor has it, your chef is serving filet mignon.”
After many restless nights and anxious days after she first checked in, I found it was easier to pretend my sister was enjoying the luxurious amenities of a resort away from home rather than completely reprogramming her body and mind to let go of the drugs and alcohol. Natalie caught on and started playing along, and it’s been an ongoing inside joke ever since. Now we’re just two sisters doing what sisters do.
“Well, my manicurist didn’t show up today, so I could use a little pampering.”
It’s so good to see her smile. The color is back in her cheeks without the aid of professional makeup, and her figure has started to fill out again. She’s doing great. I’m so proud of her, and I know Mom and Dad would be too. I kneel in front of her, taking both her hands in mine.
“The minute you get out of here, I promise to spoil you rotten.”
Her eyes fill with tears as she leans forward and wraps me in a hug.
“I never told you thank you. For not saving me that night.” I pull my body away from hers to question her with my eyes. “I know you went looking for me. I know you, Grace.” We’ve never talked about that night she showed up at my door. She’s never confessed what happened to open her eyes. A million scenarios have crossed my mind, kept me awake at night, but she’s never confirmed nor denied any of my suspicions. “If you’d found me, the cycle would’ve just continued. So, in a way, I’m glad you didn’t.”
“What happened to you, Nat? What happened that night?”
I climb into the chair next to her, draping my arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t run. She just… holds me back while she collects her thoughts.
“I was so mad at you. And I ran out of pills. And I didn’t have any money. So… there was this guy I knew… Jake. I’d never gone to see him, but I heard about him, you know?” She’s not looking for an answer, so I stay silent and listen. “He gives people stuff… for favors.”
“It’s okay, Nat. You don’t have to tell me.”
“No. I want to.”
I pull her closer. If I could open up and let her crawl inside, I would.
“So, I went to see him. To get the pills. Only he wasn’t alone. There were th
ree of them. Big guys. They stood in a circle and pushed me back and forth between them, like a rag doll. Then they started throwing things at me. Beer cans, I think. It hurt. I guess. I don’t know.” My entire body starts to shake as I weep. I sob for my sister and what she must have been feeling in that moment. How broken she had to have been. “Then the first one grabbed me and threw me on the couch.” Bile rises in my throat as I realize what they’d done to her. I swallow it back along with my tears. I’m no longer sad for my sister. I’m angry. I want to find every last one of those men and make them pay for what they did.
“Nat. Oh my God, Nat. I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry.”
She looks up at me, blinking back unshed tears. I expected to see an empty shell of a woman when my eyes met hers. But, staring back at me is a warrior, fierce and determined. My sister isn’t empty at all. She’s strong. She’s stronger than I could ever hope to be.
“Don’t be. I got away. They didn’t touch me. Not like that. But they could have. It could’ve been so much worse. You see, by not saving me, you saved me.”
All this time, I’d felt guilty for not finding her that night. I blamed myself for what happened. I hated the woman that left her sister behind. In Natalie’s words lie the forgiveness I’d been seeking to move on. In her words, she’s the one who’s saved me.
***
Two months later…
Dawie smiles as I step through the double doors into the inpatient ward of Gateway Hospital in Cape Town.
“I always knew you’d come back for me,” he says as he wraps me in a warm hug.
Dr. Stephenson follows close behind him, greeting me the same way.
“Well, you make it hard for a girl to stay away.”
“We’re so happy to have you back, Grace,” Dr. Stephenson tells me.
Not nearly as happy as I am to be back. And this time, I’m not going anywhere.
I’m drawn to this place, to the people here. I felt it from the moment I stepped off the plane all those months ago.
Deacon picked me up from the airport a little over an hour ago. I’d no sooner set my bags down in my room at the lodge when I was aching to be back at the hospital. Maybe that’s my heart telling me this is right. This is where I need to be.
Natalie has been out of rehab over a month and is doing fantastic. She and Lucas moved into Mom and Dad’s house. She wanted a fresh start without the watchful eye of judgmental neighbors. Plus, it’s paid for, so there’s no financial burden. Lucas is the happiest I’ve ever seen him. And that keeps my sister motivated. I keep the homemade card he made thanking me for giving him his mom back tucked in my mother’s favorite romance novel for safe keeping. Annette helps keep an eye on him while Nat works. It’s like a well-oiled machine that can only get better with time.
Over the past five months, Deacon has flown to Los Angeles to see me four times, keeping me motivated to follow my heart, and not my obligations, for once. I knew from the moment I met him, where he is, is where I wanted to be. Natalie’s recovery set us back a little while, but that was okay. Because it took about that long for all my paperwork to go through. I have a feeling Deacon influenced the process because from what I hear it usually takes almost twice that long.
I’ve learned things about him. Like why David’s photographs were so important, and how Deacon saved him. I know about his family and I’ve heard about his scars. And every little thing, every tiny detail, makes me fall more and more in love with him.
He’s opened my eyes to a whole new world. A world I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life living in.
***
“Don’t fight the ropes. That will only make them tighter.”
I’m suspended. From the metal loops in a single beam in the center of his room. At his mercy. By his will.
Deacon fed the rope, gracefully, effortlessly, through his fingers, coiling it once, twice, then a third time around my wrists. Then under my arms and across my breasts. Again, in the crease of my knees and around my ankles. The twine bites my flesh, but not in an uncomfortable way.
He touches my shoulder and I swing. He walks up behind me, standing next to my head as my long hair hangs to the floor.
“Empty your mind, beautiful. I want your thoughts. All of them. Only me.”
The chatter stops. The unending worries of the day. The stress of saving the world, one heartbeat at a time. All of it disappears.
“Where are you?” he asks.
“With you. Just you.”
“Good girl.”
Between me, him, and the rope lies a connection more intense than anything I’ve ever felt. I trust him. Completely. No barriers. And he knows me. Knows my limits. Knows exactly where to take my body. More than I even know myself. My body is an instrument only Deacon knows how to play.
His hands explore my body.
His mouth tastes my skin.
And it feels like heaven.
Deacon never tried to change me. He awakened me. He protected me. He guided me. He took my pain and made it beautiful. He never demanded my submission. But he has it. Completely. It belongs to him. I belong to him. I always have. I always will.
***
Deacon
She is everything. She’s given herself to me completely. Body and soul.
I look at her, bound, yet free. Trusting me, needing me. And I love it. I love her. The way she tastes, like the most delicious thing I’ve ever put on my tongue. I set out to own her, but she’s taken full possession of my heart. She is independent. Focused. Driven. In the daylight, for the rest of the world, she controls her environment. She decides what goes. But when we’re alone, she sheds this layer. She opens up. Blossoms. Like the wildflowers in the courtyard. And it’s the most beautiful submission I’ve ever seen.
Not because she has a need to fulfill or an ache to burn. But because in her unconditional selflessness, she knows what it means to trust.
I don’t use words like marriage or family. Even though those things may come. But I know where I want to be in my life. And I know it’s with her. Always with her. She is a partner. In every sense of the word. And I am the luckiest man alive.
The End
Be on the lookout for more of Grace and Deacon’s story in part two. Coming later.
About the author
For those new to her work, Delaney Foster is a Louisiana native of the deep bayous of sweet Louisiana, not far from New Orleans. Where eating, drinking, and dancing are pretty much a requirement for citizenship. She loves all things romance, a good glass of wine, and Saturdays at the baseball park. She does believe leggings are pants and is a bit of a book whore. In her heart, Mr. Darcy will always be the ultimate book boyfriend. And in her books, you will find sexy alpha males and the strong women who love them.
Like what you’ve read? Delaney loves hearing from her readers! Drop her a message and let her know.
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The Drazen World: Unraveled (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 13
