Under the Lies

by Green, Sarah E.

  Pushing away from Noah even more, my fingers slip, losing traction on silk, charcoal sheets. Cool air kisses my arms, my chest, but I ignore it.

  Too transfixed that I’m finally here.

  I’ve lived here for weeks, though on some days it’s felt like months, but have never stepped foot in the inner sanctum of Noah Kincaid. And it fits him perfectly. From the dark colors to the steel and copper furnishings. Windows like the ones downstairs that open up to the city.

  His city.

  I can easily see him waking up and taking in the city that bends to his will, his authority.

  A king watching over his kingdom.

  Noah’s hands move up my neck, his fingers lacing through my hair to cradle my head and creating a shiver down my spine. His touch gentle, revenant almost, as he turns my head to meet his gaze.

  My breath skips with what he shows me in his penetrating blue eyes. His normally guarded and closed off expression is cracked, open for me to see. A look I never thought I’d see on Noah’s face.

  Scared—no, terrified. Backed by relief.

  I’m okay, I want to say, but words can’t find their way to my lips. He has me trapped within his gaze that it takes me a moment to realize that we’re both shirtless, me even braless.

  He pulls me close, skin to skin.

  I slip my palms between us, going to his chest. “What happened? Where are my clothes?”

  Noah’s hands skim down my arms to my wrists, where he laces his fingers between mine.

  My brows furrow at them. We’ve held hands before, quite a few times. Especially when we’ve been in the public eye, but he’s almost scaring me more than anything that happened.

  Who is he and where is the broody, stone of a Noah I know?

  “Your body temperature was low when we got you back home and heat is best transferred between naked bodies.” He doesn’t say it cocky or teasing, simply straight to the fact. And that’s when I know it was bad.

  “How was I?”

  “You woke up when we first got you out of the coffin and you were able to tell us what happened, but your voice was low, hoarse, with lips tinged blue.” His thumb rubs along my hand.

  In the silence of the room, images of what happened come flooding back to me. Being grabbed and chased and buried alive.

  It almost doesn’t feel real, but the throbbing in my feet and the aching muscles and the taste of dirt in my mouth are all there.

  Panic climbs my throat, setting over my mind as I hear the footsteps behind me, my screams. Reliving the terror that consumed me.

  I had always thought a strong person was based on the muscles packed beneath their skin, that I’d never be strong because I’m too lazy to lift weights more than ten pounds at the gym twice a year, but slowly, throughout my time with Noah I’ve realized that’s a lie.

  I am strong. I’m strong because I opened my eyes today, because what I feel inside me isn’t only fear but there’s also anger and relief and gratefulness to have another day. I’m strong because I woke up today. Because I’m okay. Because I’m safe. And I will continue to fight to be okay.

  My spine straightens, remembering something else from the cemetery.

  “What is it?” Noah asks, squeezing my fingers.

  “Darling Sayer,” I whisper.

  Noah’s jaw clenches, giving a curt nod.

  “The letter,” I breathe.

  Another tight nod.

  The anger in my veins begins to boil. And I try to pull away from Noah, but he’s fast, keeping me close.

  “Noah,” I protest. “Let go.”

  “No.” His grip doesn’t tighten, but it feels firmer anyway.

  “Noah.” I tug, but it’s useless. He doesn’t budge. My teeth grit in frustration.

  “No.” He glares, leaning in.

  “Why am I here if you’re just going to be difficult and not listen to me!” I yell, despite him centimeters away. Our lips almost touch.

  “Because last night I felt helpless when I found you gone, and a cavity was carved into the base of my chest as I raced to the cemetery. I failed you.”

  Those three words. I and failed and you.

  They do something to me.

  There’s still so much to talk about, so much left unsaid between us, but…it can wait.

  Right now I don’t want to think. I just want to feel.

  My hand reaches out, going for his glasses. Noah’s still as he watches me place them on the black bedside table next to us.

  Turning back to him, I see how heavy he’s breathing, as wholly affected by this as me.

  My arms wrapped around him, not wanting to ever let go, as he buries his face into the side of my neck. He holds me as my heavy heart beats between us.

  “You’re safe,” he murmurs into my throat. “You’re safe,” he repeats, almost as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as me.

  “You saved me,” I say after a while when the room is silent except for our even breathing.

  “I promised to protect you,” he reminds me.

  He did and that’s what he’s done, but as I stare at him, I know one person he can’t protect me from.

  Himself.

  His hands skim down my body. “You’re mine.”

  Noah lowers my body back on the mattress, covering mine with his. I focus on the way Noah’s mouth moves against my throat and down my chest, between the valley of my breasts.

  His touch breathes new life into me, and I give myself over to him, letting him coax and fill me, making me whole.

  “Make me forget.”

  “Forget what?” He pulls one of my taut nipples between his teeth.

  “Everything.”

  His wicked smile feels like a brand on my skin, skating down my body as he makes good on my request, making me forget everything outside this room.

  Everything except him.

  And his tongue and fingers, working me over.

  Right now, there’s nothing more I want.

  Noah spreads my legs with his thighs, fitting himself between them. His touch feather light and wrong. Like I’m a fragile doll with too many cracks.

  No.

  I don’t want soft.

  I want him. How rough he always is.

  He’s never treated me like I’m a fragile doll before and I don’t want him to start now.

  “Touch me like you mean it.” I lock my legs around his waist. “I’m not going to break, Noah.”

  I back my words with a challenge, a dare I know he won’t be able to resist. And he doesn’t disappoint as he pins my hands into my mattress. Restraining my touch.

  “Is that right?”

  My chin jerks, letting him see the heat in my eyes.

  “Just remember,” he warns as an immoral grin overtakes his face, and he’s thrusting into me hard and fast enough for my vision to waver. “You asked for this.”

  He pulls all the way out only to ram back inside.

  A sound I’ve never heard passes my lips.

  He does it again.

  Ooooh, God. Yes, yes. More, more.

  He rolls his hips into mine, over and over again. Shaking the mattress, my breasts, my everything.

  He has my hips pinned to the bed, keeping my withering body at his mercy while his mouth sucks at my neck, the peaks of my breasts.

  Our hips move at a frantic, unrhythmic pace. Our lips crash together in the need for more.

  We don’t talk. Gone is the teasing. We’re moving too fast, too hard. Only cries and pants and grunts leave our mouths, but Noah moves his body like a message. Words he can’t get out to say.

  Thrust.

  I failed you.

  Thrust.

  I got you.

  Thrust.

  Forgive me.

  Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

  I got you. I got you. I got you.

  He’s everywhere. Marking me, filling me, branding me.

  But he’s not the only one. My own nails dig into the back of his neck, pushing his mou
th closer, harder into my skin. My own teeth find his freckled shoulders where I bite and lick.

  It’s hard and fast and delicious.

  I asked him to make me forget, but I want to remember this.

  The reverence in his eyes as he’s inside me, never looking away from my face.

  How he handles me, like I’m seconds from slipping through his fingers.

  I asked him for hard, which he’s giving me, but he’s also given me something else. He makes me feel whole. Cherished.

  In the wee hours of morning as the sun is inching across the horizon, I fall with the man who’s stolen my heart and branded my soul.

  Hours later I walk out of Noah’s bathroom to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows digging into his thighs, talking on the phone.

  He glances up to find me leaning against the doorframe, wearing one of his white dress shirts. My ankles are crossed. He smirks and motions for me to come closer.

  With a small smile, I shake my head, content to stay like this. Watching him.

  I get to see Noah Kincaid like this. Ruffled and unkempt. His dark blonde hair is tousled from my fingers running through the thick strands, pulling at them. He’s missing his shirt, not that I’m complaining, his chest is toned, and I can see the start of his freckles at the height of his shoulders. Even from here I can see the indents on his chest, on his neck, from where my teeth nipped at his skin.

  I wish he hadn’t put on those gray sweatpants earlier, but now, I’m not really complaining. There’s something magical about a man in gray sweatpants. But on Noah? They’re lethal.

  God. I have it bad.

  “Call me when you get something useful,” he orders into the phone with authority before hanging up. In the same breath, he tosses the phone behind him, turning his full attention to me.

  “Like what you see?” he asks, not missing any of my ogling.

  “No, you’re far too hideous.”

  He chuckles and my toes curl at the low sound. Sensual and knowing. “Bullshit.”

  Noah spreads his legs, patting the top of his thigh in invitation.

  I hesitate. I want to, but I know if I do, he’ll put his hands on me thus distracting me from all the questions swimming in my head. He’s already distracted me thoroughly this morning by just being shirtless and rumpled.

  So, I stay firmly planted where I am, hugging the doorframe between his bedroom and bathroom. “Why was Gabe here earlier?”

  “To check on you.”

  “I doubt that.” I remember the heated argument happening as I was waking up, though the words still escape me. “Why was he really here?”

  “Why does it matter?” he counters.

  With a glare, I push away from the doorframe. “Should I recount the last twenty-four hours to you?”

  “Yes, I seem to have forgotten,” he snarks back. “Please go on.”

  “Noah. Can’t you be serious?”

  “What do you want me to say, Sayer?”

  “I want you to tell me how we’re going to catch this bastard. It’s the same person who sent me the letter and photos!”

  Darling Sayer. The name makes my skin crawl.

  “We?” He lifts a brow. “There is no we in this, Sayer.” He stands up from the bed, meeting me in the middle of his bedroom. “There’s you, then there’s me. You’re not getting near this.”

  “I’m already in this!” I shout. “Or have you been so focused on my sister that you forgot why I’m actually here?”

  A look crosses his faces as his feet eat the distance between us. “You think I forgot?” That authoritative tone is back in his voice, but I’m not one to bend. “I still have dirt under my fingernails from the cemetery where I dug you out.”

  “I want to help…” My voice trails off, Noah’s already shaking his head. Not budging. My fists clench and I resist the urge to do what I really want, which is punching Noah in the throat.

  He’s so stubborn!

  But before I can carry out my crime, there’s a knock on Noah’s door.

  It opens before Noah can give the okay, and Gabe’s head is peeking in. “Got what you asked for.”

  Noah doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t look away from me as he raises two fingers waving him in.

  As the door opens, my eyes widen. Gabe’s not alone. In his hands is a small bundle of fur. “Pan!”

  Breaking away from Noah, I run to Gabe and grab my cat from his hands.

  The comfort of his purring is a balm to my ears, soothing the places my shower couldn’t reach. I bury my face in his fur, never wanting to let him go again.

  “I’d be careful next time you see Reeve,” Gabe warns.

  “Why?” I ask, picking my head up.

  “He wasn’t too happy I took your cat back. My boy has gotten quite attached to that flea infested fur ball.”

  “Pan doesn’t have fleas!” I hold my cat closer, insulted on his behalf. Turning away from Gabe, I march to Noah’s bed and place Pan on the mattress, inspecting him.

  He looks the same, fluffy white fur and yellow-green eyes that still shine with judgments and sass, and it feels like he’s gained a little weight.

  He’s perfect.

  I turn to Noah. “Why did you ask for him?”

  “For you,” he replies, glaring at the feline as he walks across the mattress headed for the pillows. “I thought you might’ve missed him.”

  An unspoken thought lingers: I thought you might need him.

  At a loss for what to say, Gabe saves me from saying anything. “Do you need anything else?”

  Noah shakes his head. “Go meet up with Reeve, he’ll fill you in.”

  “Yeah, Noah can’t say anything with me in the room,” I snark. “I’m not allowed to know anything. I’m just supposed to sit here and look pretty.”

  Gabe and Noah share a look before he leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him.

  I look at Noah. He’s back to glaring at my cat. “If you don’t like animals, why—”

  “Why am I allowing it now?” he fills in.

  I nod.

  “Because I wanted you to be happy.”

  My eyes widen. Before I can say anything, Noah’s phone goes off. Moving to get it, he eyes Pan with indifference.

  He reads what’s on the screen, only to curse as he brings it to his ear.

  My own ears strain to listen, but I can’t hear anything.

  Noah moves around the room on autopilot, getting dressed as he listens to whatever is being said on the other line. With another curse, he hangs up and shoves the phone into his pocket.

  “I have to go,” he tells me, synching his watch to his wrist. “There’ll be two people in the lobby if you want to leave, but I think you might be wanting to stay in today.” He casts a glance at Pan.

  I freeze. The thought of being alone…No. I can’t let what happen control me. I can be alone. I love being alone.

  I must not look that convincing.

  Noah walks over to me and cups my cheek. “I won’t be gone long.”

  “Is this about who took me?”

  He nods, starting to pull away.

  I grab his wrist to stop him. “Can I just request one thing?”

  “We both know you’re going to anyway, so go on.”

  “Can you keep me updated? I need to know what’s happening. For my own sanity.”

  It takes him several seconds until he nods, pulling away from me and walking out the door. Leaving me alone with my cat.

  Turning to Pan, I scratch under his skin. “So, what’ve you been up to?”

  The next week goes by in a blur. It’s the kind of week that doesn’t feel like any time has passed, but when you look at the calendar, you realize you’re already on Friday when you thought it was either Tuesday or Wednesday.

  It’s also the kind of week, where everything feels different but changes subtly occur.

  Changes like the calendar shifting from January to February. The weather from cold to frigid.


  Changes like I’m no longer okay in the dark. Ever since the night in the cemetery I can’t be in utter darkness. I start to sweat, my chest pinches, my breathing almost stops. I now need a nightlight when I sleep, so when I jolt awake in terror, I’m reminded that it’s okay, I’m okay. I’m safe.

  But the biggest change has been the dynamics between Noah and me. He’s been around so much, to the point where it’s become overbearing.

  Everywhere I am, he is. Sometimes by my side and other times he lurks like a creeper in the shadows. Eyes following my every move.

  After the cemetery, there was a moment where I thought Noah was going to try and chain me to his apartment, just to keep me from going out when he couldn’t follow. We fought for hours about it until he finally relented and I let him tie me up in another, more fun way.

  That night stole a sense of safety from me, solace in the dark, but I’ll be damn if it steals my independence too.

  Gone are Silent One and Silent Two. Noah and Thea have since replaced them after Noah reamed them out for their shitty protective skills. They were at the gallery the night I was taken.

  While Noah and Thea play shadow, Reeve and Gabe have been trying to find who took me from the art gallery. There was a list of guests, so they’ve been going through it meticulously, interrogating each person.

  So far they haven’t had much luck.

  With each passing day of them not finding the person, Noah grows more and more frustrated.

  Every night, he storms into his office and locks himself inside the room for hours.

  It’s not until I’m getting ready for bed that he ventures out to pull me out of my bedroom and into his. Because that’s where I sleep now. In Noah’s room with his arms wrapped around me like a boa.

  Never would I have pegged Noah to be a cuddler, but in the middle of the night I wake up to his chest pressed against my back, one arm wrapped around my waist while the other cups one of my boobs.

  Although, I’m not sure Noah would call it cuddling. From the way he’s wrapped around my body it feels like he’s putting himself in front of me to ward off another attack.

  My guard. My shield. My protector.

  Sometimes I catch him watching me as if I’m going to vanish. I called him out on it one night, but in typical Noah fashion, he didn’t answer me. Just smirked and pulled me to his chest, his lips finding mine. That night he kissed me like he needed reassurance.