Haven House, page 18




My body spasmed as I screamed in terror and agony. It radiated throughout my body, and I arched up. I didn’t know what pinned me, just that it hurt. So bad!
“Damien!”
That one last word escaped before darkness claimed me.
Chapter Eighteen
The hard surface beneath me was moving. Bouncing.
Every movement jarred my body. My head felt as if it were splitting in two.
I fought to stay awake, because the hand holding mine was warmer than I was.
“Damien,” I moaned before the darkness captured me once more.
Opening my eyes was like climbing a mountain. An effort of will and determination.
The walls were white, and I was sure I’d seen it before, but where? It was a question I couldn’t quite grasp the answer to.
My lips were dry, cracked, my mouth raspy and tight. “Water,” I groaned.
A cloth was slipped between my lips, and I sucked weakly.
When it was removed, I lay back, my body exhausted from the simple effort.
“Ammy?”
I couldn’t turn my head, but I knew the voice. “Damien.”
I felt his hand on mine, the grip tight. His face swam into view, lined and grey. Exhausted.
“Where am I?”
“Aboard the dirigible. You needed the facilities here.” Pain, bare and deep, echoed in the verdant green of his eyes.
“What happened?” My voice was soft and faint, as if coming from far away.
“There was a fail-safe. They detonated the building while you were…” His eyes fluttered shut, and when they reopened, the pools of pain were near infinite. “They nearly killed you, Ammy.” Tears glittered in his eyes.
“I thought they did.” I moved slightly, and the agony I felt was incomparable. “I hurt. My leg hurts,” I murmured.
He blanched. “Ammy, your leg…” The grip on my hand tightened.
“Did I hurt it badly?” My mouth was dry again. I licked my lips, and he slid the sponge in once more. The moisture dribbled down my throat as I sucked deeply, welcoming the water.
When he removed it from my mouth, he turned away. I heard him gulp and wondered what was so bad that he was afraid to face me.
“Damien?”
Misery and guilt contorted his face when he looked back at me. “They had to amputate it. At the knee.”
I stared at him, blank. The things he was saying…
Amputate.
“No,” I whispered. “No.”
“Yes. They had to do that to get you out of there. The building was on fire, and there was no other option.” His hand shook on my cheek. “You would have died, Ammy.”
I wanted to jerk away but couldn’t because I was immobile on the bed. Every word was a spike into the centre of my brain.
My leg. I was no longer whole. Damaged.
“But I’ll organise a physiotraducere, Ammy. The best, if that’s what you want. You don’t need to decide now.”
His earnest tone was too much to bear. I closed my eyes, trying to understand all he’d told me.
My leg. Gone.
The pain remained.
I was sure I could feel it.
Perhaps it was a joke? Cruel, but in a moment, he’d laugh…
I waited, heart pounding, but it didn’t echo in the air, and on some level, I knew.
“Ammy?” I heard it, the sorrow.
Too much!
The pounding in my head swelled, and I let go of consciousness.
Day and night ceased for me that day. There was only the agony of awareness or the darkness that stole me into nothingness.
Every time I opened my eyes, Damien was there. His hand in mine, holding tight, as if my anchor. I supposed on some level he was, but why stay now? Now that I wasn’t normal. Never again would I be.
Gradually, I came back to myself once more and met the doctor who’d saved my life after the wild flight back to Scottsvale. That was where they’d transported me to, because the hospital facilities were better, Damien informed me. The black cloud settled around me, cloaking me. Smothering me.
I wasn’t yet ready to see what was no more. I avoided it, until after my release from the hospital and on the trip back to what had become our home in Port Alino. Damien strode into the room, Gloriana and Andrew at the door. His eyes were dark-rimmed, and stubble coated his jaw. His clothes were rumpled in a way I’d never before seen.
He’d lost weight. Guilt nibbled at the corners of my despair. “Damien?”
“Enough, Ammy. Time to get up. Time to get some air.” His tone was belligerent and his gaze direct. I hadn’t seen that from him in a long while, it seemed.
My body seized up. “I don’t want…” I muttered.
His shoulders tensed. “Too bad. Now come on.”
Gloriana brought in a chair, a contraption with wheels, and set it by my bed, her gaze darting back and forth.
Damien reached down and scooped me up, pulling the blanket with me. “Come on.”
The warmth I associated with him returned, filling my body, which now felt chilled and lifeless.
“Put me back,” I demanded with a quaver, but he ignored me. Once I was settled into the chair, he tucked the surrounding covers down the sides. I stared straight forward, refusing to acknowledge that I now only had one and a half legs.
The squeak of the wheels attacked my ears. We trundled out, and he took me to the front of the dirigible. A pulley on a platform awaited me. A lift, I’d heard it called.
The chains pulled tight, and we rose.
Sunlight seared me, burning my eyes. Pressure filled me. I fought it down, suppressed it as best I could.
A salty breeze tousled my hair. I glanced around, but the railings were too high. I pursed my lips. “I want to go back,” I muttered with a mulish insistence.
They ignored me.
I knew something was up. As soon as the rattle and clank of chains started, the dirigible started dropping.
I gawked. “What’s going on?”
“We’re almost home, Ammy. Back to where the children are waiting for us.”
Children. Francesca, Simeon, Samson, Faith, and Constance.
I bit my lip. “Are they safe?”
Damien crouched beside me. “Yes. But they need us. They need you, Amaryllis Coultihan-Whitmore. You’re their mother now.”
A chink of need etched its way through the frozen organ in my chest. Heat moved down my face, and I swiped at my cheek, surprised to find moisture. A tear.
“No,” I said.
“Amaryllis. You are not broken. I love you.”
I looked at him. “How? I’m broken. A shell.” And I meant it.
“No.” He brushed a lock of hair from my face. “You’re my life. The light that makes me whole.”
My chest heaved as emotions swirled within me, threatening to swamp me. I clasped my fingers, dug deep with my nails. “Why?”
His gaze held mine. “Because you are the woman who sees me. Knows me. Accepts me. Just as I see you and accept you.”
A sob tore through the air, loud and wild. The sound of an animal in pain, I realised. But it was me.
His arms enfolded me, held me close as I allowed the dam to burst. Let the horror, pain, sorrow, and regrets rise to the surface.
“I don’t want to be broken, Damien.” I wept into the shoulder of his jacket while the beat of his heart and the heat of him applied a balm to my wounded soul.
“I won’t let you be. When you’re ready, we’ll find a doctor. You set the rules, Ammy. Only you.”
Epilogue
Dearest Diary,
Amaryllis Coultihan-Whitmore is still the strongest woman I know.
Since the night we found Master of Haven House dead, she’s been to hell and back.
Since that night, Damien has been a rock to her and to us. Working with her hasn’t been easy. She’s grieved the loss of her leg. We all know it was necessary to save her. She’s accepted that now, but we feared we’d lose her to the blackness of spirit. It nearly stole her.
Since then, the surgeries have been successful. We’re all thankful, because it’s given her back the life she lost that night.
Today we received news that another shining light entered the world. Dawn Coultihan-Whitmore was born, healthy and well, just as her mother is.
Francesca has blossomed as well during this time. Her drive and tenaciousness have seen her enter medical training, and she’s indicated her chosen field is that of Physiotraducere, carrying on what could very well be a tradition in the family.
Damien assures us that Francesca, Faith, Constance, Samson, and Simeon are all overjoyed at the birth of a little sister.
I can’t wait to introduce my little Alexander to Dawn. He’s still too young yet to realise that he was born into a world that allows him to be who and whatever he wants to be. That will come in time.
I have also heard that the man we know as Adam Nobel has passed from this life.
While I can never condone the life he lived or the sect he led, I remain grateful to this day for his care of the children during one of the most trying times of our lives.
I can only hope that, our duty being done, we may now settle into a peaceful life.
Then again, I doubt it!
We shall see, though.
Gloriana Mulligan-Coultihan
* * *
The End
…for now
* * *
Francesca’s story will come soon in Nobel Crest.
The Celtic Cupid Trilogy
When Cupid—otherwise known as Diocail— is banished from his home on a remote Scottish Island, he's set a series of tasks by the great god Lugh, who also happens to be his father.
In Blame The Wine, he must bring two lovers together... BBW Cara and James, the man she’s lusted over from afar who happens to be a super geek and head Veha Industries.
In A Stranger's Embrace, Diocail is driven to help an emotionally fragile Jane and Davis, a famous author. The task is more complicated, with the existence of Carstairs her could-be ex-husband and teenage daughter, Frannie.
In Revenge on Cupid, Diocail must take the ultimate chance and find his own happily ever after with Simone. Sometimes the past gets in the way and HEA's don't come cheap though.
_______________________________
The dusty, dingy little diner was full, even with its current state of cleanliness—or lack thereof. People from the surrounding offices didn’t care about anything except the incredible, well-prepared food at a reasonable cost. They flooded in, like waves to the shore. As one tide left, another swept in.
“Honestly, Simone. I’m going to try getting his attention one more time. If that doesn’t work, I’m out of there. I mean, how long can I keep trying?” Cara picked at the caramel tart she hadn’t been able to resist with the cheap metal fork and flicked the blob of fresh cream that sat on top to the side of the plate.
“You’ve said that tons of times before. Besides, what are you going to do to get his attention? Hmm? Walk naked through the typing pool?” Simone bobbed the straw in her smoothie as she eyed her friend with a frown. “It’s been what? Eighteen months since you saw him, and you’ve mooned over him from a distance ever since you met him. You need to move on, Cara. That is, unless there’s something you haven’t shared?”
The query was arch. Cara shivered even as she shook her head. “No.”
Simone quirked an eyebrow, obviously unconvinced with the answer. Cara let out a deep sigh of frustration. “There’s a position...it’s only temporary, for a PA reporting directly to him.” She speared a forkful of tart, chewed quickly and swallowed, before continuing. “In his office, full-time for the period of the engagement. I saw the memo yesterday. I mean, I have the skills, right? I can type, answer phones, make coffee, file, greet people. What’s more, I can probably do it better than all those size eights in the typing pool that Ms. Jackman seems to prefer.” She nodded thoughtfully. “All I have to do is get past the ogre in Human Resources.”
Simone stared at her, disbelief clear on her face. “Girl, I so remember that woman. If you think you can get past her, you’re doing better than I ever did. That’s why I left Veha Industries, remember? Maybe it’s time to haul out your resumé and consider some other options. Look for something better.” Simone shook her head and billows of her crimson hair swirled through the still air.
Cara understood Simone only had her best interests at heart. But this time she knew the outcome would be different. Hell, she could feel it in the air. The tingle of expectation.
“Cara, the HR ogre will hang you out for breakfast before she offers you anything like a position in that office. Remember her mantra? Good looks and good work make for a positive workplace!”
Simone didn’t sugar-coat anything. It was another great reason for their long- term friendship. Honesty. But Cara didn’t want to hear the truth in the statement. Even if it was exactly as her friend said.
Cara nodded quickly. “Yeah, I know, but if I don’t try, then I won’t know how close I can get to him, right? And the only way to catch his attention is to get past her and see him in person.” Cara quaked a little at the information she needed to share. The favor she needed to ask. “Anyway, I tidied up my resumé and dropped the application into a memo envelope yesterday, so it’s too late to back out now. I mean, fortune favors the brave. Doesn’t it? If I don’t snag an interview, I’m going to visit the career advisor across the street and register with them.” She shrugged. “I’ll look for temp work until something more long-term shows up. I can see what they have on offer and well...who knows? Maybe a job with the right boss is just waiting for me. But I’d rather this worked out, to be honest.” Her voice trailed off into a whisper. “I really wish he would notice me.”
Simone took a long slurp of her banana drink, and Cara noticed her questioning gaze even as she squirmed. Finally, Simone nodded. “It’s your funeral. So anyway, you’d better show me this memo if you want me to be a referee for you. I’m guessing that’s what you need, right? I’ll have to know what I’m supposed to say about you before they ring.”
Cara smiled. “Thanks, Simone. I knew I could count on you.” She slipped a piece of paper out of her handbag and handed it over. “Sorry it’s a bit creased. It was in the bottom of my bag, I stashed it so none of the others from the pool would see. You know how it is.”
Available from Love Books Publishing
books2read.com/CelticCupid
* * *
Direct Autographed Copy
https://www.imogenenix.net/CelticCupid
Star of Ishtar
Warriors of the Elector
Book One
* * *
The first time Elara laid eyes on Grayson was when he rescued her from the clutches of a madman and his scientists who were kidnapping humans and conducting horrific experiments on them. That was years ago. In spite of her attempts to deepen their relationship, they remained nothing more than close friends.Now Elara is a medic with the Admiralty, and she knows what she wants. It’s been Grayson since the beginning. When Elara is stationed on the Star of Ishtar, she arrives with a plan to further her career. But this time her plan has an added bonus—to finally get her man.
Grayson’s spent years fighting the connection between himself and Elara. He’s certain it only exist because he saved her life. But his will is failing, and he fears he just might give in to temptation.
_______________________________
“I finally made it.” Elara Sudonne watched as the hull of the Star of Ishtar loomed in the inky darkness. She clutched her hands tightly together as the shuttle approached the hulking battleship.
This would be her new home and first combat ST placement for the Earth Empire. She quaked inwardly with nerves but fought to keep her serene exterior. Previously her deployments had consisted solely of on-planet expeditions and in rehabilitation and dirtside facilities. When the chance had arisen to move to the battleship, she’d grabbed it with both hands.
The frigid air chilled her bones as she sat in her shuttle seat, but a trickle of sweat inched its way down her back under the fresh gray wool flight uniform. Little puffs of vapor escaped her mouth as she rubbed her arms. Nerves stretched tight, she looked through the small portal at the front of the vessel. She wanted to tug at the collar that somehow seemed to have grown tighter as the ship loomed ahead, but instead she firmed her mouth, straightened her spine, and concentrated on the future.
“So damned long.” She’d been working toward this outcome since the day Grayson Myatt and Duvall McCord had saved her from her Ru’Edan captors. She was lucky, she’d survived the ‘experimentation’ of the Ru’Edan leader Crick Sur Banden’s scientists. “And all I have to remind me are my scars.” She didn’t grin at her own joke.
The person seated behind her jostled but she ignored it, lost in her memories. On that day, so very long ago, the young Elara, fresh-faced and with idealistic views of the empire, was taken from the mall where she’d been shopping with friends, thrust into the back of a transport vehicle, and given to the Ru’Edan scientists to experiment on.
For days they’d worked on her and others, seeking an average pain threshold of humans, slicing her skin then noting reactions and how long it took to heal. They’d cut her arms, body, and even her face, and now she carried the extensive scarring of the exercise as a reminder to herself and others of what they were fighting for. Freedom. The freedom of Earth and its allied planets.
She’d never relinquished hope, it had been her constant companion as she fought against the all-consuming terror. Then they’d found her in that dirty, disused warehouse. They’d found others too, in various states of death and decay. The smells of despair had filled the air with a fetid ripeness that she’d never been able to forget.