I smiled and turned my attention to the window, unable to hold his gaze for too long. The snow fell in chunky flakes, blanketing the streets outside.
“So,” he said with some levity, “have I been a good boy?”
“I suppose.”
“Then let me see what’s in your journal.”
I flinched, glancing at where his thumb brushed against mine. A line of charcoal stained my cuticle. I pulled my hand back, rubbing at the stain with a napkin, embarrassed.
I thought I’d be brave enough to share this part of me with him, but now I was terrified. What if he hated it? “I don’t know if you’ll like it very much.”
“I’d like to be the judge of that.”
“It’s just very personal.”
“Which is exactly why I’d like to see it. If you can’t lift that veil for me, Ella, who can you lift it for?”
He struck a chord that reverberated all the way to my heart. I wanted to show him. I wanted to open for him as he’d asked me to. But I was afraid he wouldn’t like what he saw, that he wouldn’t want me if he saw all of me.
“Okay.” Heart hammering in my throat, I pulled my journal from my pocket and opened to the most recent entry, the one from this morning.
He took the journal in gentle hands. While he read, I dipped my napkin in the water glass and cleaned the stain on my finger, nervous tension tightening my spine.
He perused the short poem for many minutes before finally closing the journal and sliding it back across the table. Clearing his throat, he said in a low voice, “Thank you.”
“It’s not much,” I said. “It’s just something I was toying with. I might use it with my mixed medium. I mean, I don’t know. I might not use it at all.”
He reached across the table and cupped my cheek, complete adoration in his eyes. “God, you’re beautiful. And so strong, Ella. I wish you could see what I see.”
I leaned my cheek into his warm hand, feeling like the woman he saw. “I’m starting to,” I whispered.
He brushed the pad of his thumb across my lips. I kissed it and received a bright smile in return.
“Well, let’s get you back to work before Elsibeta accuses me of favoritism.”
“Definitely,” I said, pulling my coat back on.
I headed for the door while Paxon took care of the bill. I wrapped the scarf over my head and stepped under the awning outside when someone ran right into me.
“Excuse me—” When I saw whom I’d bumped into, my stomach clenched into a tight knot.
“Pardon me—oh, Ella! What a wonderful surprise, dear. Clayton and I were just heading to meet your father for lunch. Won’t you join us?”
Clayton stood next to my mother, her arm looped through his, as if they were intimate family members.
“On any other occasion, Mrs. Barrows, I’d love for Ella to join us. But what I need to discuss is for you and Mr. Barrows alone.” A devious smirk to me then a charming one for my mother. “She’ll find out soon enough.”
Bastard! I knew exactly why he was meeting them for a private lunch. As custom demanded, he was gaining approval for a marriage proposal, which was ridiculous because I’d already broken up with him.
“Oh.” My mother tittered. “Well, of course, Clayton.”
That was when the heated presence of Paxon pressed behind me. My mother’s face drained of all color, staring over my shoulder.
“Ella.” A tinge of steel colored his voice. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
Clayton’s face sharpened; his posture stiffened.
Clearing my throat, I stepped a little to the side and gestured. “Mom, this is Paxon Nightwing, my boss.”
“Your boss?” She obviously struggled to form a thought or a sentence, but managed to fumble out. “But you work for Linden and Burke.”
“No, Mom. Not anymore. Sherrie returned from maternity leave. I work for Flaming Hearts Art Gallery now.”
“Oh.” Her brow pinched together. “You never told me you worked for…him.” She gestured to Paxon, and though her voice held no rudeness or animosity, anyone would have to be dense not to sense the tension.
Clayton sneered at me with a disgusted grunt at the man over my shoulder. “He’s more than her boss.”
“What do you mean?” my mother asked.
I shook my head at Clayton. His mouth tilted into a sickening grin. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Ms. Barrows, but they’re also lovers. Your daughter’s been deceiving you. And she’s betrayed me as well.”
“What? Lov—?” She choked on the word.
“It’s not true, Mom. Clayton doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Oh, it’s true alright. I have video to prove it.”
“Clayton, you unforgiveable bastard,” I grated out.
“I gave you a choice, Ella. I was going to give you another chance and officially ask for your hand in marriage today, but it seems you’ve made your choice. With this piece of trash.” He nodded at Paxon before stepping into my space in a threatening manner.
Paxon had his collar fisted in his hand when he shoved him against the wall of the café. He raised his other fist to pound his face in.
“Oh, my God!” my mother wailed on a gasp, stepping several feet away.
“No, Paxon. Please.” I gripped the arm about to bash in Clayton’s skull. “Please don’t. You don’t understand everything that’s going on here.”
Paxon let him go reluctantly, his glare shifting from Clayton to me.
“Yeah,” Clayton whispered with a sinister smirk on his face. “You don’t know everything.” He lowered his voice so only Paxon and I could hear. “Because she’s a sneaky little whore.”
Paxon punched him across the jaw so fast, his head snapped hard right. I gasped, sure he had broken something. My mother screamed. A few on-lookers drew close. One pair of girls pointed and whispered.
Clayton shoved off the wall, massaging his jaw, breathing fast, his nostrils flaring. I recognized this part of him, trying to rein in his temper. He licked the corner of his mouth where a drop of blood stained the corner red.
“Ella, get away from him,” said my mother, grabbing my arm. Of course, she was speaking of Paxon, still not realizing that Clayton was the villain here, no matter how bad it looked.
Clayton turned his attention to me. “Just remember. You made your choice.” He moved past Paxon without a glance, puffing up his chest and combing a hand through his disheveled hair. “If you’ll all excuse me now, it seems I have some business to attend to.” He sauntered off.
Paxon ignored Clayton and directed at me, “What do you mean I don’t know everything?”
He ignored the fact that my mother had cringed away so far she looked as if she was about to bolt. She pulled on my arm, urging me farther away. “Come, Ella. Right now.”
The stark fear tightening her expression and frantic pleas made me want to cry. She had no idea that Paxon would never harm her or me.
“Mom, look at me. He won’t hurt you.” I grabbed her shoulders and forced her attention to me instead of over my shoulder. “Paxon and I aren’t lovers.” Technically, this was correct, but I didn’t know how to tell her we potentially could be. Would be.
“Did you see what he just did? They’re animals. I’ve told you this before. How could you work for such a man? Why have you betrayed Clayton? This isn’t like you. Does he have you under some kind of spell?” she whispered in an angry tone, though her eyes shone with the dark edge of fear.
“Mother, you’re being hysterical. Things aren’t as they seem with Clayton.”
The crowd around us grew thicker, and I recognized one of Clayton’s colleagues from work making his way through the throng.
“We can’t talk here. I’ll meet you at home.”
“No, young lady. You’re coming with me right now.”
“No, Mother. I’m not.”
It was the first time I had
ever told my mother no. I was never the defiant child.
Her mouth dropped open in shock. “Meet me at home to discuss this. At once.” She clip-clopped off in the other direction.
When I turned to face Paxon, he was already striding up the pavement toward the gallery at a swift pace.
“Paxon!”
I ran after him though his legs were longer and he was in no mood to wait for me.
Paxon stopped at the door of the gallery just as I rushed up. He wrapped my wrist with a strong grip as I reached out to him.
“Before I lose my mind, please explain to me what just happened.” The vibrating blade of his voice sent chills up my spine.
“It’s not like that. It’s not what you think.”
“What do I think?”
I opened my mouth but had no answer.
“Speechless? Why don’t I elucidate for you? I think in one breath you just denied me and the possibility of us ever having a future together. You’re hiding something from me, yet Clayton seems to know what’s going on more than I do. And know this, if you can’t tell your mother about us, then there’s no bothering to continue this charade. If you’re ashamed of being with a Morgon man, then you can never be mine.” His voice softened. “And I actually believed those words on the page you showed me from your journal.”
A knife in my heart. I couldn’t tell him about Clayton and his threats. Especially not after finding out about Paxon’s father and their tempers. Paxon would kill Clayton. And in Gladium, he’d go away for life or be executed for murder. They didn’t overlook vigilante justice like they did in Drakos. And I couldn’t tell him about my mother and the shame she wore like a cloak, trying to spread it over her own daughter. I didn’t hold my mother’s fears, yet it was true, I had denied him.
“Paxon, please. You have to understand…”
I bit my lip, tears welling as I saw pain etched in his deep, brown eyes. One of those heavy sighs hissed out of him as he let go of me. I wanted him to hold me close, but he’d already withdrawn his affection. The distance between us grew when a cold shield lowered over his face.
“You know, Ella. One of these days, you’re going to have to make a choice.”
“Between you and Clayton? There was never a choice. You have to believe me.”
He shook his head.
“Between becoming the woman you were born to be or remaining the frightened girl hiding under the veil. One of you is meant to be mine. And it certainly wasn’t the one who disowned me back on those café steps.”
He stepped back with pain and heartbreak marking his face. He beat his great wings, lifting off into the sky, leaving me in a whirl of snow, wishing I could fade into the wind and disappear.
Chapter 10
Frantic, I paced the front of the gallery for the hundredth time. I beat my brain, trying to find a way to confess to my parents that I was dating a Morgon and explain that Clayton might drag our family through the mud for vengeance. Only then could I admit everything to Paxon. I passed the Morgon sculpture again, the statue’s eyes piercing and accusing. Guilt sunk like a leaden ball in the pit of my stomach.
“What have I done?” I asked the statue. Of course, he made no reply.
My comm device beeped. Clamoring across the room and over the desk, I grabbed it to see my photo message icon blinking. I touched the icon, revealing Paxon’s name attached.
“Oh, thank God.”
He hadn’t given up on me completely. The photo expanded, revealing a close-up of a flower with purplish-black petals.
“Black Hellebore,” I said to myself.
The caption underneath read, For my Winter Rose.
I burst into tears, recalling the moonlit flower with the power to kill.
Immediately, I punched in his number.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Straight to audio message.
“Hi. It’s me. Please pick up. Paxon, I need to talk to you. Call me.”
I stared out at the falling snow, now soft downy flakes drifting to the white pavement. My comm beeped. I jumped, staring at the inbox.
“Damn it.”
Only Elsibeta. I answered.
“Hi, Ella. I won’t be coming back to the gallery. Things ran long on my end with this new artist, Marius. Would you mind locking up for me?”
“Sure. Uh, would you mind if I left a little early? There are some things I need to do.”
“Not a problem. See you Monday.”
I tried Paxon’s number again. Audio message box. I tried again. Then again. Finally, it relayed an automatic “message box full,” so I couldn’t even leave one if I wanted to.
I grabbed my coat and wrapped up tight, switching off all of the lights and locking up behind me. Jumping into my car and cranking the heater, I headed out of the Warwick District and punched in Sorcha’s number on my car comm.
A laughing Sorcha answered, lying across a bed with her fiery hair bouncing wildly.
“Would you go away!” She made cat-eyes at someone behind the device. Surely Lorian. A door clicked closed. “What’s up?”
“Sorcha, do you have Conn or Corbin Rowanflame’s number?”
She frowned. “Not anymore. But Jed would. What’s going on? You’re not interested in one of them, are you?”
“What? Oh! God no.”
“Damn. I was hoping you’d dropped that loser, Clayton. I could totally set you up, you know?”
“Well, I did drop that loser, Clayton, but that won’t be necessary. I’m with Paxon.”
Her auburn eyebrows shot up, brightening her green eyes. “What did you just say? I don’t think I heard you correctly.”
“No. You heard me.”
“Paxon Nightwing?”
“Is there another?” I blew out a breath as she fell into a fit of giggles.
“Sweet. You little, sneaky witch.”
“I’ll give you all the lurid details later, Sorcha, but I’ve seriously got to track him down right now.”
“You are definitely giving me each and every lurid detail. Have fun. And, oh, Ella?”
“Yes?”
“Be careful. Morgon men are fiercely loyal but can also be volatile when provoked.”
“Why would you say something like that?” Fearing she could see right through me, my heart sank.
“No reason. I just know your family’s opinion on Morgons. You’ll need to make it clear whose side you’re really on.”
“Shit, Sorcha. I know. Okay? More than you could possibly understand.”
Before she could get another snarky word in, I clicked her off. Jed had Conn’s number. Thank goodness. I finally contacted Conn through audio only. It was still considered rude to contact people you didn’t know well enough via video comm. I didn’t want to piss him off, more than he would be already. After his warning that night at the Vaengar game about me breaking Paxon’s heart, I dreaded this call, but he was the only one I knew who could help me.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Conn. It’s Ella Barrow. Um, I wondered if you might know where Paxon is.”
Pause. “I figured he’d be with you if I caught the scent right.”
“Excuse me?”
A familiar-sounding sigh. What was it with Morgon men and their long-suffering sighs?
“Are you, or are you not, dating Paxon?”
“Yes. I am.”
“Then why don’t you know where he is?”
“You answer first. What did you mean by catching the scent right?”
“Humans.” A derisive snort. “That night at the bar when you laid a kiss on Paxon, he was already in your skin. His scent. He’d marked you, so I was pretty sure you two would be a couple.”
“But that night… we’d only kissed once before.”
“Yeah, and I smelled him on you the second you walked into the place. Now answer me, why don’t you know where he is?”
Pause. “I up
set him. And now he’s not answering his comm. I need to speak with him, Conn. Please. Please help me. I have to explain something he’s got all wrong.”
“Right. Damn human girls.” Another long sigh. “Well, I’ll go check his parents’ place.”
“I don’t think he’s there. I’m pretty sure he’s at his place in the woods.”
Long, long pause.
“Conn? Are you still there?”
“How do you know about his place in the woods?”
“Because he brought me there.”
“Fuck.”
“Excuse me?”
“He’s never brought a girl there before. He’s only taken a select group of family and his closest friends. Damn, he’s got it bad.”
Sigh.
“Would you stop all your heavy breathing into the damn comm and go find him? If I had wings, I’d do it myself!”
A rumbling laugh. “Yes ma’am.”
“And call me back. Or tell him to call me.”
“Got it. Out.”
Click.
By now, I was pulling up the long drive and parked in the circle by the front. When I opened the front door, Milla was nearby and took my coat for me.
“Thank you. Is my mother home?”
“Yes. She’s in her private parlor. I believe she’s waiting for you.”
I was sure she was. “Thanks.”
I headed upstairs and entered the parlor attached to her bedchamber. She sat on a cushioned window seat, flipping the pages of what I knew to be her wedding album.
“Mom?” My chest tightened into a knot.
Her fingers paused on a page. When she finally looked up, I found a trail of tears.
“Is it true?” she asked, her voice brittle. “Are you with that-that Morgon?”
I winced at the venom in her voice, as if he were a piece of filth on her shoe.
“Mom, if you only knew how kind, how wonderful he is to me.”
“But, Ella, you can’t be serious.” She snapped her wedding album shut and stood, wiping her nose with a handkerchief in her hand. “What about Clayton? Is it true you betrayed him for this Nightwing…man?”
“Mom. You don’t know the real Clayton. He’s not the man he portrays in front of you and Dad.”
Nightbloom Page 10
