Page 51 of The Dark Before Light

He grins behind his cocktail glass. “Sure am. Never seen you this rabid over a woman.” His smile vanishes. Clearing his throat, he looks away guiltily.

My stomach clenches. I feel sick, his guilt a splash in the sudden ocean of mine.

Because he’s right.

I loved Liz deeply. From the moment I met her, I knew she was going to be my wife. She was soft and gentle and kind. An antidote to my rough edges; clear skies to my storm. Her death and that of our unborn child destroyed me. I’d never felt that kind of pain. Some days, on anniversaries or when I see something that reminds me of her, I still can’t believe I survived her loss.

But maybe that in itself is a kind of explanation for this fixation I have with Stirling. Like an earthquake that exposes a hidden cave system, perhaps grief opened parts of me that weren’t visible before. Brought oxygen and life to the darkest recesses of my spirit. I’m too feral now for anyone gentle. Too sharp for anyone soft.

Whatever the reason, Alistair’s right. I’ve never felt need like this. Obsession. A primal directive to take and claim a woman. Not subdue her—never subdue. More like unfold. I want to unwrap her and lick her secrets. I want her to trust me and need me and challenge me.

I want more than her body.

I want her fucking soul.

The night wears on. There’s a dinner I don’t taste because I’m too focused on watching Stirling eat. A performance by a Broadway star I don’t hear because Stirling accidentally touches my hand reaching for a glass of water and afterward, I can’t stop thinking about her fingers, long and delicate, and how they’d feel wrapped around my cock.

“Stop staring,” she hisses.

“I can’t.” I sound so annoyed by the fact, she gives me a startled look. I almost grab her by the chin and kiss her. She flushes and turns her attention to the stage.

The auction begins. An incredible amount of money is raised, a good portion of it via paddles from our table.

In addition to my brother and me, three of Lumitech’s executive officers are present with their partners. Oliver, Danielle, and Henry have been with us since Lumitech’s infancy. They’ve met our parents. I’ve been to their homes. Attended birthday parties and weddings. They grieved with me when Liz died, have supported me through professional highs and lows, and kept the company running with Alistair when I was drinking myself to oblivion.

They’re so loyal that none of them have blinked an eye tonight at the permanent frown on my face or my inability to hold a conversation for longer than ten seconds.

I would give them raises, but they don’t need more money. Plus, I froze executive salaries six years ago in order to push funds into our workforce wage packages. Maybe I’ll send them fruit baskets.

After the auction, there’s a lull for dessert and coffee. When Talia and Gail disappear to the bathroom, I finally tune into the discussion at the table.

“…putting everything he has into it,” Henry says, throwing a loaded glance my way.

I frown at Alistair. “Who and what?”

“Lyle Porter at SubFusion,” he says in a low voice. “Rumor is he’s personally sunk eight figures into their nanorobotics project. Same objective we have.” He winces. “Sorry, had.”

Schooling my expression, I shrug. “Good luck to him. Knowing Lyle, though, he might as well have lit the money on fire. He has a third of his father’s braincells and probably doesn’t know the difference between a biologist and a botanist.”

Across the table, Oliver has a coughing fit and his wife, Jenny—drunk as she always is at these events—pats halfheartedly at his back. He waves her off and gulps down the rest of his wine.

“You’re really not bothered, Kier?” asks Henry.

My smile is forced. “Nope.”

It does bother me. Not because I begrudge another company going after the same objective as us. Competition equals faster innovation in our field, after all. I simply don’t like Lyle, who took over SubFusion when his father retired four years ago. In our limited interactions, he’s come off as the type to smile at your face and talk smack behind your back. He’s also a shit boss according to the numerous SubFusion ex-employees Lumitech has absorbed over the years.

If I’m brutally honest with myself, though, I’m mostly jealous Lyle has the freedom to fund and research whatever he wants because his company isn’t a global heavyweight like Lumitech. He flies under the radar in a way I can’t, which means he probably sleeps like a baby because no one is threatening to kill him or his family members. Lucky fuck.

The lights dim for another performance. Talia returns to the table, distracting me with nothing more than her nearness. After the applause dies down, the head of the organization gives a speech. At the end, she thanks their primary donor. Lumitech, of course. Alistair goes onstage to accept the plaque that will hang next to the ones from previous years in our corporate lobby.

Then he gives a short talk about our mother. Even prepared for it, I’m still sucker punched as he tells two hundred people about the woman who birthed us. How she defied her parents’ expectations of joining the family alterations business and went to university for her teaching credential. How she loved dancing, classical music, dark beers, and teaching little hellions to read.

Alistair’s voice cracks. His words blend together as I remember the same crack in my father’s voice from our phone call a few days ago. The anguish he couldn’t hide as he told me that for the first time since her diagnosis, Mam hadn’t recognized him during their morning visit.

Fingers clamp on my hand, which lies fisted on my thigh. My gaze snaps to Stirling. Her eyes are warm pools of bronze, her expression soft but fierce as she pries my fingers apart, threads hers between them, and holds tight.

The itch under my skin fades. My next breath unravels the tightness in my chest. I don’t let go of her hand until it’s time to leave.

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