The Devil's Salvation: Final Epilogue (The Devil's Kiss #4)

by Gemma James

  I had nothing else to say, so I made my way to our bedroom. He followed, Eve on his heels, and lingered by the door.

  “Come on, Eve. Let’s give your mom some space,” he said before taking her hand and disappearing from sight.

  I eyed the bathroom long after they’d left me alone, and eventually, I forced my feet in that direction. What if I was pregnant? Would it change how he felt about me? Did the idea of me pregnant with a huge belly repulse him?

  I enclosed myself in the luxurious bath, unsure of why I locked the door. I doubted he’d come in. He appeared to want his space. My hands trembled as I read the instructions, and finally, I sat on the toilet and took care of business.

  Now just the wait.

  Time ticked away in my head, a silent countdown that only spanned one hundred and eighty seconds yet seemed like hours. I sucked in a breath; I hadn’t realized I’d been holding it for the last minute.

  That little stick taunted me from the counter. Just two small steps, a tilt of my head, and I’d have my answer.

  Two lines.

  The floor dipped. No, that was me dipping to the cold tile, following the motion of my stomach.

  But I'm on birth control…

  Texas. Fucking Texas. One time and that was about…three weeks ago.

  Holy shit. We were having a baby. My gaze veered to the door, and I never wanted to leave through it. Obviously, he didn't want a baby.

  Suck it up, Kayla. The sooner you tell him, the sooner we can deal with it.

  He was about to be a father because abortion was out of the question.

  I got to my feet, turned the knob, and pushed the door open. He sat on the bed, apparently waiting. I expected to find a hint of worry tightening his lips, stiffening his posture, but he appeared unnervingly calm.

  “Where’s Eve?”

  “I put a movie on for her.” He rose and took a step toward me. “Feel better now? I told you not to worry about…” Something in my expression must have penetrated his nonchalant veneer.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  “The hell you are!” His voice thundered through the room. “Where's the test?” He stormed into the bathroom, and I whirled, hot on his heels. I stood by helplessly as he gaped at the evidence.

  Crazy, how two pink lines could change so much.

  His gaze swerved to me, dark with something resembling hatred, as if this was my fault…as if he hadn’t been there too.

  “You lied to me,” he growled.

  What? Shaking my head, I tried to grasp the meaning of his words. When had I ever lied to him? He coaxed the truth from me effortlessly. Lying to him was about as easy as denying him. Impossible.

  “I’ve never lied to you,” I said, digging my hands into my hips. “I have no idea what you’re getting at. I understand you’re shocked, but we're having a baby, and we need to deal with this.”

  “No!” He lurched forward and slammed me against the wall. His hands pushed on my shoulders, fingers curling, squeezing, until I was shaking all over. “You are having a baby, and I have an idea who the father is.” He dropped his arms and slumped as the fight left him. “Because it isn't me.”

  “How can you…” I swallowed, as if I could force down the hurt. Grasping my chest with both hands, I wished I could keep my heart from fracturing, but I couldn’t. “How can you say that?”

  “Because I can't have children!” He shouted, his hands balling at his sides. I flattened further against the wall; prayed I could sink right through it. He took one last look at me in disgust and tore out of the bathroom.

  16. Destroyed

  How had I ended up on the floor? I couldn’t remember anything after he’d stormed out.

  Except for pain.

  It began in my heart, squeezing so tightly I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. I doubled over as his words took over my thoughts, torturing me with the echo of his contempt, and somehow I slid to the floor. Seemed like hours ago, though it was probably only minutes.

  “Mommy?”

  I glanced up from the ball I’d created. Eve stood in the doorway, her eyes bright with unshed tears and her lips quivering. I was trembling too. I pushed myself up, wiped my eyes, and reached for her.

  “Where’s Gage, baby?”

  “He left. Why did he slam the door?” She pulled away, and her innocent eyes found mine. “I don’t like him anymore. He yelled at you.”

  “He was mad. He’ll get over it and say he’s sorry.” At least, I hoped he would. The idea of raising another child on my own made my stomach clench, but maybe that was exactly what I should do. He was too volatile to be reliable. I swallowed a sob. How could he think I’d lie to him?

  How could I have let myself fall for him?

  I replayed what had just happened; searched for a clue as to what the hell he’d been thinking. His rage had taken over, but I’d never seen him so…unglued. He’d looked at me as if I’d torn him in two. I was pregnant, and he was the father, but he didn’t believe me.

  Why?

  I hadn’t been with anyone else, so unless this was a miraculous conception, his little swimmers worked just fine.

  “Mommy?”

  Eve’s voice pierced the chaos in my head. I pulled her tighter against me and buried my nose in the hollow of her shoulder, inhaling the sweet and familiar scent of my daughter. I was supposed to comfort her, but she did the comforting.

  “Everything’s okay,” I mumbled. “Sometimes people get mad and they need to leave for a while so they can calm down enough to talk.”

  “Like when you send me to my room for time-outs?” Eve asked.

  “Yeah, like that.” For a four-year-old, her wisdom astounded me. And she was much too observant. I couldn’t fall apart with her here, and Gage and I couldn’t go to bat here either, even though I feared we were about to.

  Whatever he thought I’d done…I had to make him see he was wrong.

  I picked myself off the floor, literally, and pulled myself together. Hours passed, but Gage still didn’t return. I completed chores, cooked dinner, and played with Eve before tucking her in with a bedtime story. Another hour crept by, but still…no Gage.

  He didn’t allow me a cell phone. I only had access to one when he allowed it or I left the house. The phone, along with my purse and keys were locked in the closet by the door. I couldn’t call him, and I couldn’t leave unless I took Eve out of there on foot.

  As I paced the living room, growing angrier by the second, I seriously considered it. I could wake her, pack a small bag of essentials, and just disappear. Never look back. But I’d tried that last year and look where it had gotten me. He would always find me…as long as he wanted me, and I wasn’t so sure he did anymore.

  A key turned in the lock, and I froze, eyes on the front door as it swung open. He stumbled in, swayed, and leaned against the wall as he kicked the door shut. He lifted his head and stared at me.

  Stared through me.

  “Gage, I—”

  “Don’t say a fucking word.” He kept his tone quiet, though his words still produced a nocuous edge. He pushed away from the wall and came at me, his tall body stumbling closer. I backed away, alarmed by the hatred in his eyes and his obvious drunken state.

  The back of my thighs hit the arm of the couch and I toppled over. He followed, trapping me with his body and his seething gaze. The scent of rum wafted between us. I clamped my lips shut and waited.

  “You swore up and down you didn’t fuck him.”

  Realization enclosed my heart with an icy grip. He was talking about Ian. “I haven’t been with anyone but you. No one,” I said slowly, enunciating each word in hope the truth would penetrate.

  His hands shot out fast, fingers curling around my wrists, tightening to the point of pain. He held them prisoner above my head as his face lowered, his sneering lips an inch from mine. “Do not lie to me again.”

  “I’m not lying.” My mouth trembled, and the words barely formed between us, despite the narrow space.
>
  He yanked me to my feet, rough enough to make my head swing back, and I was already pleading as he dragged me toward the basement. “Stop! You’re drunk. Don’t do this now—”

  He clamped a hand over my mouth and nose, muffling not only my words, but my air. Panic rushed up, bringing with it nausea and a flood of memories. I was suffocating…

  I blinked and hot tears rolled down my face to pool on his hand. I couldn’t breathe! I struggled as he unlocked the door; struggled for air, for escape. He switched on the light as I broke free, and I teetered on the top step as the bottom swayed closer, rushing to meet me though my feet still hadn’t left solid ground. My hands flailed but found nothing to save me.

  With a cry, I envisioned my body twisted and ruined on the floor—the baby and me dead—as gravity pulled at me with her powerful claws.

  Gage grabbed me from behind. Not even gravity could match his strength. He fisted the back of my shirt and propelled me down the stairs before pushing me face first onto the bed.

  “Don’t fight me, Kayla. Cooperate, and it won’t hurt as much.”

  A sob bubbled up. “What are you gonna do?”

  “Punish you,” he said as he yanked my shirt over my head. He unclasped my bra and pulled it from underneath me, followed by the rest of my clothing.

  “For what? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “You fucking lied to me!”

  “Don’t hurt us,” I whimpered.

  “Us?” He spat the word. “You think I care about you or that…that…fucking mistake?” His voice fractured, and so did my composure. I bawled as he stretched out my arms and legs. He tied me to the bed with forceful efficiency, pulling the bindings so tightly they gouged my skin. I didn’t even fight him—I didn’t have it in me. His words had delivered the final, fatal blow.

  I was dead on the inside. I was nothing. He could beat me until I gushed blood and it couldn’t possibly hurt this much.

  “I loved you!” he roared. “I told you shit I’ve never told…” His steps faded away. I twisted my head and watched through my tangled hair as he approach his collection of whips and paddles. He pulled that terrifying coil from the wall and unwound it.

  “You promised,” I whispered.

  “If you can lie, so can I.”

  “I didn’t lie to you! I never slept with your brother.”

  “Don’t call him that.” He stormed to the bed and made a cracking sound with his weapon of choice.

  My muscles tensed. “Please,” I begged. “Don’t do it. You said you wouldn’t. I trusted you!”

  “And I trusted you!”

  “The baby’s yours, Gage. That’s the truth. If you do this—”

  Fire streaked across my ass, stealing the breath from me. I fisted my hands and tried to crawl out of reach, but he’d made sure I couldn’t. Another strike landed, this time on the back of my thighs, eliciting a grunt. I sobbed his name. “I love you!”

  That only seemed to anger him more. He swung that whip across my body again, and I screamed. My fingernails bit into my palms, and I concentrated on that pain, focused on the fire dancing up and down my skin—anything to drown out the unbearable ache within me.

  I’d given him all of me, but it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t see beyond his past, couldn’t see beyond his own pain.

  “The baby’s yours,” I whispered with each strike, no longer screaming. No longer able. My voice faded as the count rose, but I grasped one tiny word and let it bleed from my lips. “Red.”

  His fist loosened and the whip slid to the floor. He followed soundlessly, his knees buckling, and burrowed his head into his hands. His body shook as he mumbled words I couldn’t decipher. I swam in and out of consciousness for a while, but he didn’t move, didn’t stop shaking. Eventually, he got to his feet and headed for the stairs.

  “You did it,” I said. “You destroyed me. But I’m not his anymore, so I guess that means you destroyed what was yours instead.”

  His steps faltered, and I thought he was going to say something, but moments later the light went out and the door slammed.

  17. Banished

  The darkness nearly suffocated me. I lay restrained to the bed, overcome by claustrophobia even though I had plenty of space around me. My bottom and thighs burned, and I focused on the pain so nothing else would touch me.

  He’d gone back on his promise.

  That still touched me. His words and actions hurt far worse than the whip he’d just unleashed on my body. Even drunk and enraged, he’d held back.

  I wished he hadn’t.

  I wished he’d broken my body instead of my spirit. Hot tears soaked the sheet under my cheek, and I didn’t recall the exact moment I dozed off, but I had to pee something fierce when I awoke. The blackness closed in more with each passing minute, and I had no idea what time it was or how long I’d slept. I was worried for Eve, especially since the monitor had offered nothing but silence. He must have shut it off. I didn’t think he’d hurt her, but he wasn’t operating on all cylinders either.

  The door creaked open and a sliver of light beamed down the staircase. He switched on the overhead light, and I blinked several times until the sudden brightness no longer blinded me. I watched him stomp down the stairs and come toward me. His eyes were bloodshot, more so than last night, as if he hadn’t slept at all. He held a bag and my purse in one hand, and he dropped them both before untying me.

  “Don’t move yet. I need to check your backside.”

  “It’s fine,” I muttered. I got to my hands and knees, turned to face him, but the room spun. Nausea hit me from nowhere. I shoved past him, sprinting to the bathroom, and my fingers gripped cool porcelain as I retched into the toilet. After the last dry heave, I flushed away the ugly brown and then relieved my screaming bladder before rinsing the vomit from my mouth.

  He hadn’t moved at all when I returned to the room. “Get on the bed. I need to take care of you.”

  “What do you mean?” I aimed my gaze at his shoes.

  “Don’t ask questions or argue. Just do it.”

  I stepped toward him, but apparently I wasn’t moving fast enough. He took my arm and jerked me to the bed where he bent me over the end.

  “Stay still,” he snapped.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and shivered as his hands slid over my sore bottom. He rubbed in some sort of cream.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice gruff. “I shouldn’t have punished you while I was drunk, but I didn’t leave any welts.”

  This time.

  He finished and stepped back, and a set of clothing landed by my head on the mattress. “Get dressed.”

  “We need to talk,” I said, my voice cracking as I reached for the clothes. I was too close to splitting in two, and I didn’t know if I could handle talking to him right now, but I had to try. I had to do something to relieve this ache in my heart, to make him understand he was wrong.

  “We have nothing to talk about. You need to get dressed and leave.”

  My eyes widened as I pulled on a pair of jeans. “What?”

  “You can take the car, the credit card—take what you want. I don’t care about any of it. Use it as long as you need to, but don’t come back here or call.” He moved to the other side of the bed, as if he couldn’t tolerate our proximity.

  “So that’s it?” I said, my voice wavering as I slipped into a T-shirt. “You’re just going to send me away?”

  “You’re carrying that bastard’s kid!” Seizing the lamp on the nightstand, he hurtled it across the room. The ceramic busted, echoing its haunting death through the basement. “I hate it, and I hate you. Now get the fuck out of my house and take Eve”—his voice cracked on her name—“with you.”

  Numbness stole over me. I couldn’t process. He’d revealed so many sides of himself, so many personalities that all meshed to make up this complex, passionate, cruel, beautiful man in front of me. But this side of him…I hated this side of him as intensely as he now hated me.

 
; “Go!” he screamed. “I can’t stand the sight of you!”

  I’d never seen him so livid, so destroyed by what he thought I’d done. I could have fallen to pieces at his feet, could have begged him to put me back together again. To make me whole. But I wouldn’t. This was my chance to wash him from my life. Truly start over. Eve would be fine without him. I would be fine without him. The baby we’d created together, the one he hated, would be fine without him.

  “Okay,” I whispered, forcing my shaky limbs to move. I picked up the bag he’d tossed on the floor, pulled my purse strap high onto my shoulder, and headed toward the stairs. I said nothing; he wouldn’t listen anyway. The man I knew was gone. I didn’t know this stranger who had just cast me aside like I was nothing. Gage Channing had made me feel a lot of things in the time I’d known him, but never this—like I meant nothing to him.

  I clutched the bag, knuckles turning to ash as the pain threatened to choke me. My whole body was ash. He’d incinerated me. A month ago, I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but I loved him, and his hate almost brought me to my knees. Devastation welled in my throat, and I grabbed hold of my last thread of strength. I would not break down in front of him. I wouldn’t.

  “Wait,” he said.

  My lifeless feet halted on the first step. Slowly, I turned, a pang of hope fisting my heart.

  His mouth never strayed from the mean line it formed. “My mother’s ring.” He marched to where I stood and held out his hand. “I want it back.”

  I blinked several times as I slid the ring down my finger, and I made the mistake of meeting his eyes as I dropped it into his waiting palm. That seething hatred wrecked what was left of me.

  “You’re the last woman on Earth who deserves to wear her ring.” And with a wave of his hand, he dismissed me.

  Just like that.

  And I didn’t know how I kept from breaking on the spot.

  18. Purgatory

  We left before sunrise, and my tears fell in an endless stream once Eve and I sped down the road. I had a full tank of gas, a credit card with unlimited capabilities, and nowhere to go. No one to turn to. So I just drove, practically on autopilot because I was aware of nothing.