Page 32 of Deceptive Vows
My heart broke for her, and at the same time, it only reinforced my opinion that she was a warrior. “It’s okay to love her and despise what she put you through. Both are equally valid.”
“It may sound odd, but despite what I said about hating her, it wasn’t reallyhate. It was frustration. I felt sorry for her and wanted more for myself. When she died…” Thea came to a stop and hugged herself. “It was a regular day.” She lifted her eyes to mine. “Just a normal day. We were on the street yet again, and she sent me to the shelter to see if they had room. She said she needed a minute to think. When I returned, I found her.”
Whether she wanted it or not, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her flush against me. I wanted to infuse her with comfort. Give her someone solid to hold onto. If only just for a moment. “Not just a warrior. A survivor.”
“I never talk about her. I’m not sure why I even told you.”
“We are supposed to be getting to know each other,da?” I chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood. “I’m glad you shared.”
When she hugged me around the chest, I was shocked and thrilled. “It’s not necessarily difficult to talk about my past, and I don’t dwell on it. Only recently has it been plaguing me more than usual.”
Leaning back, I cupped her cheek. “Perhaps it’s the changes taking place. Your brothers getting married. New sisters-in-law.”
“That’s likely the reason.” She pulled away and straightened, her fingers brushing under her eyes in a quick, almost defiant motion. A breath, then a small lift of her chin.
“Enough of that,” she said, voice lighter but not forced. “While ordering the venison, I found out the same company has a sister business that sells black tea.” A faint smile played on her lips. “Would you like a cup? I even have milk for it.”
She was inviting me into her home. I couldn’t say yes fast enough. Much like our other walks, she wrapped her hands around my bicep, leaned her head against my shoulder, and we strolled to her two-story home on Granville Avenue. While she didn’t have an exact line of sight, glimpses of the sunset could be caught through the buildings.
“My mother would have loved this home.” She stood on the porch and ran her hands over the railing. “Silly enough, that’s part of the reason I bought it.”
“Nyet, I understand. It’s a way to be close to her. Forty-two years on this earth have taught me that feelings are never straightforward. Love and hate mix, causing confusion and frustration. We’re told that we have to feel a certain way about things, but I’ve found thatmost of the time, we all fall somewhere in the middle of black and white.”
“Yes, I think you’re right.” She spun on her heels and unlocked her door, holding it open for me. “Welcome to my home.”
As I stepped inside, I realized I’d just been invited into her sanctuary. My Dark Angel’s hundred-year-old home maintained its vintage heart with wood paneling and floors. The foyer opened to a large living area and high vaulted ceilings. To the right, a staircase led to the second floor, and to the left, a small half-bath featured black-and-white tile floors and mauve-painted walls.
“You have a lovely home.”
“It’s my escape.” She smiled.
I shut the door behind me. “I can see why.”
After a short tour, we settled in the kitchen while water heated for tea. The table for four fit the little alcove next to it, overlooking a manicured garden through a large picture window
“Have you ever met your biological father?” I watched her as I asked the question. Her body language spoke louder than her words most of the time.
“No, and I have no desire to.” Her back wentstiff straight, head lifted. “My father is Alexandros Kalantzis. A great man who taught me strength, courage, and honor. He showered me with love and affection. He was the best father I could have ever had.”
If my children loved and respected me half as much as Thea loved and respected hers, I’d be a blessed man. “I can see that.”
“He…” The sentence trailed off as her eyebrows knitted together. “Do you smell that?” A scent of acrid smoke and gasoline drifted through the air. Before I could respond, she bolted from the kitchen, her heels slamming against the hardwood floor.
I launched to my feet and caught up just as she skidded to a stop in front of the garage door. The wood smoldered, and an ominous orange glow flickered around it. My hand shot out, catching her wrist before she could touch the handle.
“Wait.” I hovered my hand near the seam—too hot. ”Don’t open it. Air feeds fire.”
She already had her phone to her ear, her voice even despite the fear in her eyes. After rattling off her address, she paused. “Yes, garage, spreading fast.” Her gaze metmine, and I saw the same question: deliberate or accidental? What if Marco had decided he didn’t care about taking them out all at once? What if he changed his mind and targeted them separately, starting with her? That also made me question his relationship with Krysha.
A concussive blast roared through the door, rattling the walls and showering paint flakes from the ceiling. Thea flinched but didn’t drop the phone, though her knuckles went white around it.
“Please hurry.” The words came out as a whisper.
Flames burst through the door seams like hungry fingers, racing up the wall and spreading across the ceiling with an unnatural speed. The paint on the walls bubbled and blistered. The heat hit us in a wave, and I pulled Thea back against my chest, already calculating our escape route.
“We need to get out.” I kept my voice calm but urgent. “Now, Thea.”
Chapter Twelve
