Chosen: The Complete Edition (Allure), page 43
Holding my gaze, she moved over and urged me down onto the bed. I couldn’t even manage token resistance. With a low groan, I stretched out beside her and took her in my arms. She sighed softly and almost at once slipped into restful sleep.
I followed more quickly than I would have thought possible. Waking only once in the middle of the night, I swam up from the deep sea of to find her curled against me, her hand resting directly over my heart.
When I drifted off to sleep again, I dreamed of chasing ducks.
Chapter Nine
Grace
Alittle slower,” the physical therapist said. “There’s no rush.”
I hid a smile. After five days, the poor guy was still trying to restrain Adam. I could have warned him of the futility of that but I was content to watch from the door of the outbuilding next to the house that had been temporarily converted into a state-of-the-art physical therapy facility.
Adam was running on a treadmill. The pace he had set was punishing and the angle steeply uphill. His bare chest glistened with a light sheen of sweat while his running shorts did nothing to conceal the power of his muscular legs, nowhere more evident than in thigh muscles honed by a lifetime of riding and skiing.
A memory of his thigh thrusting between my legs shimmered through me. I took a quick breath and bit my lip, fighting the desire that had been building inexorably with each passing day.
And night.
The small bandage still remaining on his left shoulder was the only visible reminder of what he had endured. As for what couldn’t be seen… I was left to speculate about that. After our first evening together, Adam hadn’t been very forthcoming. I chaffed at the distance he seemed determined to keep between us even as it gave me an excuse not to tell him about Patrick and the fact that I would have to return to New York soon.
The treadmill finally slowed and came to a stop. I caught the therapist’s sigh of relief.
“You’re very fortunate that there was no tendon or nerve damage, sir,” the young man said. He was ultra-discreet, never questioning how someone of Adam’s stature had acquired a bullet wound in the first place. But he was still set on doing his job.
“Exerting too much force too soon could hinder healing,” he added.
“I’m fine,” Adam said. Seeing me, his eyes lit with a smile. “Especially now.”
Heat flushed my skin; I felt myself blushing. Little moments like this were woven through each day, times when our gazes met, we shared a laugh or one of us completed the other’s sentence. They were happening more and more frequently, and I was rapidly becoming addicted to them.
And yet, I was also increasingly aware of how frustrated and needy I felt. All the little touches in the world couldn’t make up for the fact that we slept together every night in the same bed chastely.
Invariably, I was the one who turned to him in my sleep, needing the closeness and physical contact. He’d put an arm around me then but nothing more. Occasionally, over dinner, our hands would brush. Once, the day before, I’d thought that he was about to kiss me. Only to have him pull away at the last moment.
It was all so unlike the man whose nature I knew to be intensely carnal and who had never hesitated to take what he wanted while at the same time giving almost more pleasure than I could bear. At first, I told myself that I couldn’t seriously expect sexual athletics from someone who had been shot and who had nearly bled out not once but twice because of it. But that same man had no difficulty running his physical therapist ragged. While also making me constantly, vividly aware of my desire for him. And equally powerfully, of my inability to hide it.
The thought that he might no longer want me tormented me from time to time but I didn’t make the mistake of going very far down that road. Instead, I’d begun to notice how often I caught him scowling at the bruises on my throat. Despite having lightened, they were still all too evident. The weather was growing cooler; I’d thought of covering them with a scarf or a turtleneck sweater. But what good would that do? We’d both still know they were there just as we knew but had yet to speak again of what had happened in Paris.
Perhaps we never would speak of it. I certainly didn’t need to rehash the details and Adam…he was holding something back that I had to believe he would tell me in his own time. Or not.
I had dreams about the wheel. Weirdly, they were just that--dreams, not nightmares. If I had been sleeping alone, that would have been different. The steady rhythm of Adam’s breathing and the beat of his heart followed me into sleep and held the terrors at bay.
Worse by far were the flashbacks I had during waking hours, moments when the memory of Adam falling wounded at the schuss or struggling with Sebastian washed through me, an acrid wave burning me from the inside out. They came and went in a second or two but they left me clammy, short of breath, and trembling. I hid them from him as best I could and was relieved that they seemed to be easing as he healed.
We had been at the farmhouse almost a week, counting the day we arrived and the following day when Adam awoke. I’d avoided looking at any form of news but I had checked my phone, thoughtfully restored to me by Rolf. Will hadn’t called but my mother had, twice. She’d wanted to know where I’d gone and if by any chance, I was with Adam Falzon. That prospect clearly excited her.
I’d sent her a quick text just to say that I was fine and would be in touch later. Eventually, I’d call her back but not yet. The days secluded away from the world were too precious. Selfishly, I didn’t want anything to intrude on them.
I went back out to the garden to wait while Adam and the physical therapist finished their session. Afterward, I knew that he’d shower and shave before coming to join me. I would have liked to be on hand for that but there was only so much temptation that I could take.
Given how quickly he was getting back to normal, I had to wonder how much longer he would be content to stay at the house. The demands on his time and attention had to be intense, all the more so after what had happened with Sebastian.
The few snatches of conversation between Adam and Rolf that I’d overheard made it clear that no flicker of rebellion remained anywhere within the Falzon family. On the contrary, fervent declarations of loyalty were pouring in. So were expressions of support from outside the family, sent by the men and women commonly seen at Davos conferences, G20 summits, and the like. The latter gave me a peek into the expanse of Adam’s power, far outstripping even my family’s.
I was still sitting, holding a book that I wasn’t reading and thinking about Adam when a late-blooming rose dropped into my lap from above.
When I looked up in surprise, my breath caught. He was smiling down at me. In jeans and a simple cotton pullover, he appeared even more approachable than the man I had known so briefly in New York.
“I was going to offer a penny for your thoughts,” he said. “But I thought you’d like this better.”
The warmth in his eyes left me painfully aware of how much I ached for him. Suddenly self-conscious, I lifted the flower to my nose and inhaled deeply. It was smaller than its more cultivated cousins but it smelled like heaven--the sweet, powdery scent of damask hiding beneath a lush hint of plum and spice.
Over the blossom, I said, “I was wondering how much longer you’ll want to stay here.”
He frowned and sat down on the chaise next to me. I moved my legs over to make room for him. His gaze was so intense that I felt it along every inch of my skin. Whatever he saw looking at me didn’t seem to improve his mood. On the contrary, tension radiated from him.
I was wondering at the cause when he asked, “Why? Are you eager to leave?”
I had to tell him. After everything we had been through, I couldn’t keep the truth about Patrick to myself much longer. But once he knew, he would insist on being involved. I was terrified of that, especially now after all that had happened.
Returning the flower to my lap, I said, “Not as much as I should be. I’m having trouble focusing on anything beyond the moment.”
I wasn’t proud of that; on the contrary, seeing how quickly Adam was recovering made me feel weak by comparison. We had both suffered but his was by far the more serious injury and he was putting it behind him with lightning speed.
“You went through a terrible ordeal,” he said quietly. When I didn’t respond, being too caught up in savoring his nearness, he added, “Did you see Doctor Frick today?”
I nodded. A physician, two assistants, and the physical therapist had arrived at the house shortly after we did. Rolf had summoned them from a clinic in Switzerland. They were all staying in a guesthouse on the property.
“What did he say?”
Really? He wasn’t getting full reports directly from the good doctor himself? Patient/doctor confidentiality notwithstanding, I had trouble believing that. Which was why I was so circumspect about what I shared with the doctor. He knew about the tank and Sebastian’s attempt to strangle me because Adam knew about both but I’d said nothing about being in the oubliette and I had no intention of doing so. That was best forgotten, along with everything else that had occurred. The sooner we put it all behind us, the better.
“He says that I’m recovering very well.”
A look flitted across Adam’s face that I couldn’t decipher. All the same, my heartbeat sped up, keeping time with the rush of blood singing through my body. I felt more alive than I had since that moment with him in the gallery before the world exploded into blood and terror.
My need for him leaped to an entirely new level. It was physical and so much more--the yearning for intimacy, friendship, trust, a sanctuary, never again a prison. A place where we could both be ourselves and together be so much more.
I truly did try to fight it. Tried and lost. Everything I felt and all that I wanted was there to be seen in my body, my eyes, the small, uncontrollable movement of my hand stopping just short of his.
Adam stared at me for a long moment before his gaze shifted. He stared off into the distance. My throat tightened before I realized that he was wrestling with a decision. One that he wasn’t long coming to. Abruptly, he stood and held out his hand to me.
I rose and took it without hesitation. His fingers laced with mine, warm, strong, at once a wellspring of comfort and dark excitement.
“Come,” he said and led the way back to the house.
Chapter Ten
Grace
Late afternoon sunshine filtered through gauzy curtains drawn closed across the high windows. In the shadows around the edges of the room, candles were lit. The bed was turned down, the pillows plumped and smoothed, the cool white sheets were inviting. Music played softly, a woman singing in French about love and regrets.
I looked around the bedroom in astonishment. This was what Adam had been doing when I’d thought he was just showering and shaving? This utterly romantic gesture beyond anything I could ever have anticipated?
He followed me into the room and shut the door before turning to face me. I stood frozen, unable to look away from him. He had the gait of a predator even when, as I suspected was the case now, he was holding himself in strict check. The distance between us shrank until he stopped almost--but not quite--close enough to touch.
Quietly, with no warning, he said, “I have vowed to myself that I will keep you safe from every source of harm, including me.”
I took a quick breath but it wasn’t enough. My lungs felt starved for air, my heart beating so quickly that I heard the rush of my own blood pounding in my ears. All I could think of was when?
When had he made such a promise to himself? In the hours of brutal physical therapy, pushing himself to the limit and beyond? At night, lying beside me in bed? All the times we had been together in the past few days…yet still apart?
Or before, when I was in Sebastian’s clutches?
He had come after me like the avenging angel I sometimes thought of him as. But I knew better really. For all that he seemed capable of transcending all limits, he was a man. Beautiful, flawed, at once dangerous and vulnerable, ruthless but possessed of a conscience greater than any I had ever encountered before.
However this resolve in him had come about, I didn’t doubt that it was real. Shadows lay between us, times when he had compelled me to submit to him despite myself. But he’d done that by making me want him and then giving me pleasure beyond any I could ever have imagined. With him, I’d discovered a part of my nature that I couldn’t deny, however much it still shocked me. It wasn’t politically correct and it might even be more than a little twisted but it was real and honest all the same. How could I be anything less?
“I assumed I would be doing that at a distance,” he added. “But after everything, you’re still here. And what I see in you…what I feel--” His gaze moved over me, a look of such fierce yearning that I felt stripped bare before it, at once humbled and exalted.
“You make me dare to hope even when I have no right to do so,” he said huskily.
My throat tightened. I could scarcely breathe. His vulnerability was stark and overwhelming, as powerful as the man himself. That he was willing to expose it to me was even more astounding.
Softly, I said, “I want to be here, Adam. I want to be with you.”
I thought that would satisfy him but instead he looked genuinely bewildered. “I don’t understand how that can be. How could you not go when you had the chance?”
The question sounded wrenched from him, as though he had been containing it for days and tried to do so still. It tore at me in turn.
“You thought I’d just leave you? While you were injured?” Outrage bubbled up in me. I was far too much on edge--sexually, emotionally, in every way possible--to even try to resist it. Besides, anger was easier to deal with than the dark, surging need he ignited in me.
“After what you’d seen?” he countered. “Of course, I did. When I woke up here, I assumed that you were gone. Discovering otherwise…felt like a miracle.”
And here I’d been thinking that it was a miracle he was still alive, this man who had gone into the pit of Hell to save me. Remembering how close he had come to not being here at all made my heart clench.
Yet the realization of what he had expected of me also hurt. I sucked in my breath against the pain of that. When I could speak again, I said, “I’m confused. You think I’m the kind of person who would just leave after everything that happened and yet you’re glad that I stayed?”
His eyes darkened, as though a storm was sweeping across that arctic blue sea, a vast force of nature untamed and unleashed. A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw.
He looked away, then back at me. I had the sense of him standing on the edge of a precipice and deciding to leap, with no idea of whether he could reach the other side.
“Do you not realize that everyone else who has seen what I really am is dead?” His voice was low and rough, filled with the weight of memories that no one should have. “Rolf knows more than anyone apart from you but even he doesn’t know the full extent of what I’m capable of. Only you do.”
He was talking about the people he had killed when he was still a boy, perhaps others since that I knew nothing of, and Sebastian. All of them dead, ghosts haunting his memories, while I remained… More alive than I had ever been before. Thanks to him.
“There’s a monster inside me,” he went on implacably. “I could say it’s the result of what happened to my parents but the truth is that it was there from the beginning. It merely woke up when they died.”
He stepped closer, only to catch himself and stop abruptly, maintaining the distance between us. His hands curled into fists at his sides, clenched so tightly that the knuckles turned white. I felt the battle he was waging to stop himself from touching me.
The muscles in my abdomen tightened. I had the sudden realization that he was presenting me with a choice between two possible futures--with and without him. Moreover, he was doing it in the starkest possible terms, holding nothing back. Even as he showed me his deepest longings, he seemed determined to make me believe the worst about him.
“I could have killed Sebastian much more quickly,” he said. His voice was low and hard, implacable even as it was laced with self-loathing. “But I drew it out. I wanted him to suffer. I still want it…. My only regret is that you saw.”
He broke off, his gaze slipping from mine into a dark and terrifying place where I could not follow.
But I could pull him back from it. At the very least, I could try. My throat ached. I hated how he felt about himself as much as I hurt at the thought of what he had suffered, beginning at far too young an age. Everything in me yearned to take away his pain, to soothe and even heal him. But who was I to even imagine that I could do that? I was a Delaney, born into a family steeped in corruption and criminality for which nothing existed except overwhelming greed and the lust for power.
As sickened as I was by all that, I couldn’t deny the forces that had shaped me any more than Adam could ignore his own past. Survival for us--separately as well as individually--depended on confronting both.
Fighting the tenderer impulses that threatened to overwhelm me, I lifted my chin and faced him squarely.
“You think I should be shocked by what you did to Sebastian? Afraid? Disgusted?”
When he didn’t deny it, I plunged on. “I’m sorry to disappoint you but you above all should know by now that I’m not the princess in a fairy tale that the media makes me out to be. Rapunzel in her tower or some crap like that. Far from it. I’ve spent my whole life in the dirt and muck of my family. If I ever had any illusions, I let go of them a long time ago.”
That wasn’t entirely true; I had still been stunned and sickened when I discovered what had really happened to Patrick. But Adam would know about that soon enough; he had to.
His lips parted on a soundless exhalation. He stared at me as though he wanted desperately to believe what I was saying but couldn’t bring himself to do so.
