Vow: A Lords of Action Novel

by K. J. Jackson

  “You do not need to create me anything, Greta, but you do me an honor.”

  “You deserve it, Ara. I only create what I see in one’s spirit. And your spirit—it is the finest.” Greta’s look slipped into serious. “You are the heart of all of us, Ara, and you must never forget that. And you must never do another fool act like you did last night. We cannot lose our heart.”

  Her chest tightening, tears swelled in Ara’s eyes at Greta’s sudden sincerity, her words.

  Greta waved her hand in the air. “But enough of the sentiment. You must finish your bath and mollify your new husband. He was in a mood when I arrived.”

  “You talked with him?”

  “I am not such a fool as to draw the attention of a frothing mad dog, my darling. No, he was clanking things about with force in the study, muttering to himself. I could hear him quite clearly as Mr. Wilbert ushered me up the stairs.”

  Ara cringed. “Clanking or throwing?”

  Greta shrugged, gaining her feet and stepping around Patch. “One and the same.” She walked to the head of the tub and leaned down to kiss Ara’s cheek. “Stop by the Baker Street house when you have settled your earl. The girls will want to see you.”

  “I will.”

  Greta walked out the door.

  Ara exhaled, dropping her head back against the rounded edge of the copper tub. She had erred quite neatly with Caine. Even though he would have tried to stop her, she should have told him what she was going to do last night. She had owed him that honesty—regardless of the consequences.

  She just hadn’t imagined that it could have gone so terribly awry. And that was where Caine’s strength shined. He recognized danger far before it even occurred to her something was amiss.

  A knock echoed into the dressing room, and Patch jumped to his feet, looking at the door, tail wagging. Greta must have forgotten an additional request she wanted to add onto Ara’s list.

  “Yes?”

  The door cracked open, but no one appeared. Patch went to the door, disappearing into Caine’s bedroom.

  “Are you dressed?” Caine’s voice came into the room.

  “Far from it,” Ara said. “But do come in.”

  Caine stuck his head into the room, keeping his eyes leveled on hers. “I can wait.”

  “Please?” Ara extended her arm over the side of the tub, holding her hand out to him. “When I said come in, I meant it.”

  He walked into the room, stopping next to the tub. Gone were his jacket and waistcoat. His eyes stayed well above the water line, refusing to drift down past her chin.

  She smiled, her eyes diving downward to the water. “I was hoping my nudity would help your mood.”

  She could see him resist for a moment, and then his eyes flickered to the water, pausing for much longer than she thought they would.

  He looked at her face, his mouth a grim line. “It does not hurt it.”

  “But it does not erase your surliness?”

  Caine moved behind Ara to the head of the tub. Bending down, he reached over her shoulder, grabbing the washcloth floating in the water, and then balanced on his heels. “Lean forward.”

  She did so, and silently, he draped her hair over her shoulder and started to wash her back. His thumb dragged along her skin, pressing into the muscles and sending tingles up her spine and down the back of her arms. Delicious and wicked. But not wicked, because he was her husband. Finally, her husband.

  She closed her eyes, letting the sensation take over.

  As much as she wanted to revel in nothing but his hands sliding over her slick back, words slipped from her mouth. “My optimism got me into trouble, Caine. I did not imagine anything like what happened, could have happened. You were not there to balance me.”

  His hand on the back of her shoulder stilled, warm water from the cloth rolling down her skin.

  “I did not let you be there, and I am sorry, Caine. I should have told you what I was about to do. I did not want you to worry, nor did I want you to aggravate your injuries. Yet I should have told you.”

  Her words were met with silence.

  Ara’s mouth closed, her chin dropping to her chest. She didn’t know what else to say.

  They both sat, still, for several long breaths.

  “I only want to know one thing, Ara.” Caine’s voice, gruff, broke through the silence.

  “Yes?”

  “When will the atonement end? When will it be enough for you?”

  His words sliced into her, cutting to her core.

  Only honesty would do now. She opened her mouth, the word almost choking on her tongue. “Never?”

  Caine leaned forward, setting his lips next to her ear. She expected him to yell, but his voice was soft. “That cannot be the answer, Ara. You will do this until you are killed? You will die, become a martyr for the cause? Because that is where this is destined to end if you do not stop.”

  “I do not think I can, Caine.”

  He shifted to the side of the tub, his clear blue eyes riveted on her. “You have to forgive yourself for Isabella, Ara. You did nothing wrong. Surviving was not wrong.”

  “But Isabella was innocent. No matter her transgressions, she did not deserve what happened to her—the horror of it. And that girl last night, she was an innocent. I could not leave her to the darkness when I could stop it.”

  “Blast it, Ara. I don’t care about the girl. I care about you.” His hand slid along her neck, gripping her skin under her wet hair. “Why in the hell do you think I have supported this for the last six years?”

  She blinked hard. “You do not care about the girls?”

  “Of course I do. But I do this for you, Ara. To keep you safe. And then you went off, a fool, thinking you could deal with the most depraved of society and win.” His fingertips dug into the back of her neck, pulling her toward him. “You cannot win this battle, Ara. They are snakes. The owner said it himself—they are Hydras—you cut off a snake head and two will grow back for every one.”

  He leaned forward, his forehead touching hers. “There will never be an end to this—there will always be men preying upon these girls. There will always be men—or women—willing to snatch them and make money off of them. Always. It will never end, Ara.”

  “But it can end—at least for the ones that we save. We have proven that, Caine, time and again.”

  He drew back slightly, his head shaking. “But even that is not your burden to bear, Ara. It never should have been.”

  “Yet it is.”

  Caine sighed, his eyes to the ceiling. His look dropped to her. “You have always said you never understood the depravity of humanity, Ara, so this is me releasing you from that burden you are determined to carry. I will come up with an alternative. We will save the ones we can. But only in a way that does not entail you ever stepping foot across Charing Cross again.”

  “It is not that easy, Caine. You cannot just make this demand of me.”

  His left hand moved up to fully capture her neck, his face cringing as it tore at his shoulder wound. “I can. And it is that easy. It is. You are more than busy taking care of the House of Vakkar, keeping care and tabs upon the eighty-seven girls you have saved throughout the years.”

  “You know the number?”

  “Of course I know the number, Ara. They are mine to watch over as well.” His blue eyes seared into her. “But please, I am begging of you, Ara, please let this—let today be a new beginning for you. For us. I love you and it is not too much to ask of you.”

  His right hand dove into the water, holding flat against her belly, the water soaking his white linen shirt. “What about when you become pregnant—hell, Ara, you already could be pregnant. You would put our baby at risk?”

  That one thought slammed into Ara’s mind, into her chest, sobering her like no words ever could. Instant tears welled in her eyes.

  Caine loved her. Had married her. She could very well be carrying his baby in that moment.

  What was she fighting
against? Why would she put any of that—ever—in danger?

  Her chin dropped, tears falling to create ripples in the water.

  She truly was a fool.

  Slowly, she lifted her arm, her hand landing on top of Caine’s grip on her belly.

  She looked up to him, finding strength in his blue eyes. Eyes that wanted nothing more than peace for her. Nothing more than to love her.

  She had to do this. For Caine. For the children they would have. For her own soul.

  Her voice shaking, she forced herself to give leave to the years of self-imposed penance. “I am done, Caine. I trust you to find a way.”

  He was on her in an instant, dragging her to her knees with his right arm, her wet body pressing into him. Words alone not enough, his mouth found hers, parting her lips, demanding her soul answer him as well. She opened everything to him, every ounce of her being, resolute in her words, and needing him to know that.

  There wasn’t anything more important to her in this world than this man right in front of her. This life with him.

  Water sloshing over the edge of the tub, she stood, tugging him to his feet as well. She pushed his shirt up, dragging it over his head, and her mouth went onto his neck, tasting the sweet salt of him. Her fingers slid down his chest, riding the curves of his muscles, the hard lines along his belly, and landing at his black trousers.

  She made quick work of the front flap, shoving the top of his trousers downward to expose him fully as her lips followed the trail down his chest.

  His hardness jutted out, the smooth skin insistent on her body as she moved downward—silk upon her belly, her ribs, her breasts, and onto the flatness of her upper chest. She moved farther down, sinking to her knees in the water, only pausing when the tip of him touched her chin.

  “Hell, Ara.” He tried to pull up on her upper arms, his fingers sliding along her slick skin.

  “I have been aching to do this for days, Caine, so you are going to let me,” she said, her mouth not lifting from his skin.

  His slippery grip on her arms relaxed, his fingers moving inward to burrow into her wet hair as she pulled back, intent on studying the wonder of his shaft.

  At first, she slid just her forefinger and thumb along the smooth length of it, taking in the ridges, the smallest flickers reacting to her touch.

  Slipping her mouth around the tip, she sucked. A guttural groan, and Caine’s legs twitched, his knees bending. She took more of him into her mouth, her fingers slipping to the base of him, moving down to cup his bollocks.

  The groan intensified, and Ara thought she heard a hissed vulgarity in the middle of it.

  Amazing. It was amazing she could make him quiver so.

  Her head moved back, then dove forward, her tongue running in circles as she descended along his shaft.

  The hands in her hair gripped harder. “Dammit, Ara.”

  Repeating the motion, again and again, sent his knees to sway, and Ara’s own core swelled, aching and ready for him. She pulled away, her tongue flickering on the tip of him, and inhaled, ready to dive again, this time with her teeth scraping ever so slightly. But Caine shifted suddenly, blocking her, holding her off of him.

  His hands moved to her upper arms and he yanked her up onto his chest, water splashing.

  She looked up, eyes wide. “I thought—can you not finish with me doing that?”

  A chuckle rumbled through his chest, shaking her. “Yes, but I am not about to allow our first time as man and wife be without me deep inside of you. Without you clenching around me. Without you feeling how you are everything to me—every breath, every thought, every heartbeat—it is you.”

  Ara exhaled, her blood pounding. “You are a wise man.”

  His hands slid down her backside and he lifted her from the water, her legs bending to clear the lip of the copper tub. Taking a step back, he wrapped her legs around his bare waist, his hands under her thighs.

  He pulled her upward, his mouth searching for hers. Finding it, he seared her with his tongue, with his soul. His mouth encompassed her senses so fully she could only half grasp that he was sliding into her below.

  Before she could react, he was deep within her, pulsating, filling her more than she thought her body could handle. But then Caine lifted her slightly, driving farther into her, shattering all doubts Ara had about her body’s ability to accommodate him.

  He raised her again, and she saw a grimace flash across his eyes as he watched her.

  She pulled away, her lips swollen. “Your shoulder—you should not carry me.”

  “Damn my shoulder, Ara. I sure as hell am lifting you.” To prove the point, he moved her upward, letting her body slide slowly back onto him.

  Ara smirked. Damned if he was going to do all the work. She shifted, pushing her inner thighs to rest on his hip bones and wrapping her calves tightly down around his thighs.

  Perfect leverage.

  Her hips gyrated. Caine’s groan was immediate, his good arm clasping around her back. “The devil, Ara, I cannot stand this.” His lips found her neck. “You need to come now. Now, Ara.”

  “Then—”Ara gasped, finding her rhythm on his body, the instinct of the rising swell taking over her motion. She arched back against his arm, exhaling as her hips moved against the hardness of him. “Then free me to do so.”

  With a growl, his right arm loosened around her back, still supporting, but giving her free rein to move as she needed to against him.

  Ara took advantage, letting her body pound against his, the deep thrusts reaching something primal deep within her. The thrusts peaked, near to completion, and she felt it the instant Caine exploded deep in her, the vibration of his body sending her over the edge. Blinding—the moment held complete loss of everything except for the sphere of pleasure, pain, and deliverance pulsating through her body.

  Freedom.

  Complete and unequivocal freedom.

  { Chapter 20 }

  Ara clutched Caine’s shoulders, holding herself up, yet frozen in place, unable to move as their bodies vibrated together, his breath heavy on her neck. She could tell he was struggling for control just as much as she.

  With a deep exhale, he turned, their bodies still joined, and went through the door to his bedroom. He made it to the bed, collapsing back onto it and not letting Ara escape from the grasp of his right arm.

  For minutes they didn’t move, and Ara reveled in the simple pleasure of her skin on his, on his chest lifting and settling below her with every breath.

  When her thoughts had straightened, making sense in her mind once more, she shifted her head on his chest, looking up at him.

  “I liked that.”

  “Standing?”

  “All of it. Anyway I can have it.”

  He laughed, the sound low and warm, heating her heart. “I will work diligently to make sure you do.”

  She tapped his chin. “So tell me what you imagined when you mentioned an alternative to getting the girls out of the auctions unscathed.”

  “Already back to that?”

  “Yes. My mind can only stop working for short time periods.”

  His eyes flew upward, staring at the bed canopy. “You do not need to know the details, Ara.”

  She cleared her throat.

  Caine’s eyes dropped to sweep over her pout, and he chuckled. “I thought it was worth an honest attempt.” His right hand moved down, resting on the curve of her tailbone. “We can use all our same men—they all survived last night—injured, but no deaths.”

  “Thank the heavens.”

  “Indeed. But they all know the risks. We will have to determine someone who can serve in your capacity—someone to calm the girls once they are safe in the carriage. Maybe one of the Baker Street house women? I know you have gone to great lengths to protect them from their past, but doing something like this—helping others in the same situation—some of them may welcome the opportunity to help another.”

  Ara nodded. “I can understand the thought. I wi
ll inquire to find if any of them are interested. Janet in particular has a tender heart and would be wonderful at helping the girls if she could stomach the business of it. Plus, for all Greta has tried to teach her, Janet is not a goldsmith artist—though not for lack of trying. And I believe Mrs. Merrywent will continue to help, though I feel she would not mind some rest from the business of saving virgins.”

  “I agree. And as for who will purchase them in the actual brothels, I have someone in mind.”

  Ara popped up, her face hovering over Caine. “Who?”

  “The less you know, the better for me.”

  “How has that worked for you in the past?”

  He laughed. “True. But I do not want you involved, Ara. Give me that.”

  “Are his initials F.W.?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Excellent.” Her smile went wide. “Fletch made quite the dashing creature when he was rescuing me from that room at the brothel. He disposed of two guards right in front of me.”

  Caine’s eyes narrowed. “Dashing?”

  “Green in your eyes does not suit you, love.” She pushed up to nip the tip of his nose and hovered above him, her hand diving into his dark hair. “Besides, you must have forgotten that I was once saved by the best, the handsomest, the most dashing man that ever was.”

  She kissed his chin, the rough stubble dragging across her lips. “Fletch could not hold a candle to your daring courageousness. And I was well aware you were the one saving me at the Jolly Vassal—he was just the trusted muscle you needed at the moment.”

  Her fingers went to the scabbed stitches on the front of his shoulder. “It was smart to not tear this open, or to go woozy from your head and fall on your feet.”

  “Woozy?”

  “I saw you swaying by the tub.”

  “That swaying had not a thing to do with the cut on my head.” Smirking, his hand came up, thumb tracing her bottom lip. “And everything to do with these perfect—and amazingly strong—lips.”

  “You enjoyed?”

  “Almost too much so.”

  She smiled, inordinately proud of herself that she had bestowed that much pleasure on Caine. “So Fletch? Do you truly think so?”