Page 89 of Vow of Revenge
Just to talk. Fill in the gaps.
Will you let me in now – I’m outside.
Kaleb
Holy shit.
I ran out to the hall, pressing my palms onto the cold glass surrounding the front door. The red Ferrari Spyder was parked up. Kaleb stood at the driver’s seat, rain plummeting from the heavens, drenching his muscular form. He leant back against the car door, hands in his pockets, legs crossed, waiting – for me.
Somebody, please, help me get over this man.
My heart exploded – does he really want me? Reality kicked my ass. Just because he wants to talk, doesn’t mean he wants anything else.
The door opened, I walked outside, meeting the icy jabs of rain. He stood still, watching me pad towards him. Those beautiful blue eyes drank me in. Warning bells drilled in my head, but I needed this, I had to finally face him.
I paused before him. Water teased his chiselled face, sprinkling his lashes and rolling down his nose. His saturated white shirt became almost translucent, clinging to every perfect curve of his torso. I longed to run my tongue across his skin, yet my stomach twisted with pain like I was being deceitful.
Breaking the silence, I asked, “Why are you here? Did my father tell you where I live?”
Unfolding his long legs, he stood forward, towering over my sopping wet body. Those delicious hands cupped my face, his body pressed against me, his lips covered mine. I was lost in his deep sensual kiss, spiralling down a dark hole.
My conscious screamed into the depths of his seduction.
No! He’s using you. Be strong, Freya.
I shoved him away, breaking the enticing kiss that made my stomach flip. My mother fought to the end. I won’t betray her. Turning away, I bolted towards safety. He chased me like a predator, pushing his way behind me and slamming the door so the world couldn’t see him break me.
“Stop fucking running from me, Freya. I need you to listen.” His tone was firm and commanding, verging on exasperated.
“What is it that you need me to hear, Kaleb? Huh? Tell me! Because right now I have no idea what the hell you really want!” I yelled. “I know she killed him. Neither of us can change that now.”
He bounced forward, shoving my back to the wall, his damp clothes touching mine.
“I swear I didn’t know who you were when we met, Freya, and I didn’t remember who she was.” He swallowed hard. “Who, Ana, was to me. Somehow, I blanked out the truth. What I do know, and have always known, is how I feel about you.”
I was drawn to his mouth, tempted by his musky damp skin. “Who was my mother to you?”
His expression lightened like he was remembering love. “Ana and I, we had a weird relationship. I was only a kid back then, and I loved that woman like a mother.”
I froze. “My mother?”
Kaleb’s forehead dropped to mine, and he inhaled a steadying breath. “I loved your mother as if she was my own.”
“I… I remember her telling me of a little boy who was just as lonely as I was.” My eyes glittered when I finally accepted that the boy must have been Kaleb. “She said he was kind and funny, and one day, he would live with me.”
His sharp intake of air made my skin prickle. “She spent more time with me than anyone else in my life.” The light touch of his fingertips traced my jawline, the burning pain behind his eyes absorbed every inch of my face. “I watched him beat her, Freya.” The hairs on my neck lifted. “I heard her bones crack. He was fucking laughing at her lying on the floor covered in blood.” The muscles in his spine stiffened, and I could almost sense the pain and rawness of each memory. “Fuck!” He slammed a fist into the wall at my head. “I killed that sick son of a bitch. I was the one who cut his throat, not, Ana – not your mother.”
My lungs tightened, holding in air until it blew out in a gust of shock. “But you were a boy? How could you do that to your father?” His admission spun in my head like a tornado.
“She was dying, begging me to run and hide, for fuck sake. I couldn’t let him kill her. I…” The dreamy blue of his eyes darkened like a relentless storm had taken hold in his heart. “He wasn’t like a father to me, Freya. The man sent me off to boarding school the day I turned seven. When I came home, he didn’t even bother to ask me how I was getting on. He didn’t care about my life – she did. Ana used to smuggle chocolate cake out of the kitchen, wrap it up in tissues and pack it in my suitcase.” His head shook. “I loved finding the parcels when I unpacked.”
I couldn’t process the information he was telling me. I was scared, confused and hopelessly in love with a man who murdered his own father, to save my mother. “She brought me a wedge of chocolate cake for my birthday. It was wrapped in tissues. I don’t know what to believe anymore.” My emotions were out of control, and I panicked.
“Get out.” My thoughts blurred. Were these more lies? “Get out!” I yelled.
Strong determined hands wrapped my wrists. “Freya?”
“Get the hell out of here. I can’t listen to any more lies. I can’t take this, Kaleb. Leave!” I screamed. My heartbeat bucked against my ribs when his grimace morphed to sadness.
