Page 28 of Vow to Protect
“Raen?”
Nothing.
Champ’s ears prick. He trots to the bedroom door, pushing it with his nose. It swings open, and the handle taps the wall when it comes to a halt. He bounds straight for her, for the woman sitting in the middle of the floor, cross-legged with palms upturned. Her spine is straight, and long sable hair skims a narrow waist, draping a fine-featured profile. She doesn't flinch as the lucky dog licks her jaw.
“Why are you sitting on the floor?’ I ask, strolling into the room. When she doesn't answer, I follow her gaze.
There, on the once blank wall, are four enormous faces staring back at me. Sugary sweeps and caked contours. Colourful streaks of fondant blend and highlight. Features come to life with textures, and vivid lost eyes glare back at me, searching for recognition. And that I do. I see my daughter's smile in an older woman and identify her sweet face in one of the young girls. The only difference is the colour of hair. It’s yellow and striking compared to Tilly’s. I study the extraordinary portrait in awe. Gob smacked by the artistry and shocked that it’s a link to my little girl’s family history.
“The older woman?’ I break the silence. “Who is she?’
“My dead mother,” she whispers. “With my dead father,” she continues. “My dead sister and—me. The only living Cartier left. Will this prove to you I’m her sister?” Death scrapes and claws at the air.
Demolished cakes, icing mixed to a watery paste and a rainbow of crumbs scatter the cloth puddled at the wall. Debris covers her clothes, and her hands are smothered in a mash of sticky mush. “You wanted proof. This is all I have. My memories.”
I step toward her. “I believe you.” Then I gaze at the image again, marvelling in the likeness of a younger Natalie to Tilly. “She has your curly dark hair,” I announce.
Raen’s head rotates in a flash, big green watery eyes searching mine. “Does she?”
I nod once. “She looks like Natalie and has your hair.”
Her eyes snap shut briefly and a solitary tear glides down her cheek. “Maybe one day, in the future, when all this is over, I’ll meet her.”
My t-shirt tightens around my chest. I don’t think I’m ready to share my daughter with anyone else. “Perhaps,” I respond with a noncommittal shrug.
Wavy strands flow over shaking shoulders when her head bows. “I’m usually happy on my own. Our parents died a long time ago, but I always—” She sniffs. “I always thought Nat would settle down. Even though she wasn’t there, in the same country, she was stillthere. Like, no matter what shit went down, I’d always have someone on this planet who belonged to me.” Her hands tremble, clutching her belly. She crunches forward, the realisation of her sister's death finally settling.
This woman is just as broken as I am. The fascination teams with palpitations. My body tenses, all the while wishing I knew everything about her. “What happened to your parents?’
I study the layers and dashes similar to the signature impasto technique of Rembrant. I’ve seen portraits with this skill in Kaleb’s high-end collection, but this creation is priceless. The man's eyes follow me, protruding out of the wall with secrets.
Raen pats her cheekbones to ward off tears, sucking in a shaky breath. “My father travelled a lot. We lived in a small village close to the Northern border. He visited Dublin most weeks, if not every week. One month, he’d been away on business longer than usual. Natalie called his cell and begged him to come home.” She pulls in her lips. “He promised her he was on his way home, but—” A trembling hand swipes an unruly lock of hair away from her cheek. “The Garda found him dead in a motel room. Two weeks later, my mother killed herself. I was sixteen, and Natalie had only turned eighteen.”
Her spine bends as she arcs over her thighs. The crack in her heart deepens, draining all the blood from her pretty face. She frantically rubs cake mixture from her fingers, displaying a sense of order. “I’ll kill that bastard, Blaine, myself one day. He won’t see me coming. I’ll track him down like the snake he is.” Her voice strangles with bitter venom.
In a beat, a faceted green gaze hunts out mine. With all her reserves, she flutters a faint graceful smile, but her chin wobbles. I witness vulnerability behind her fierce facade. I sense an undercover battle of fear composed by strength. I detect the sorrow whisper from her soul, like the ghosts in her past won’t leave her alone.
Anger for the man who brought about so much destruction simmers within me. Watching her visibly shake strikes a chord. Yet I curb the impulse to back away, failing to consider the consequences or over analyze my actions. Marching to the fragile woman huddled on the floor, I float down to my haunches and drag her into me with both arms.
Her tears roll. My defenses crumble. Her body oscillates, and my mind scrambles. I focus on her mourning, drawing it inside to prevent the welcomed intimacy burn through me. I’m holding her—close to breaking point.
Raen turns her torso into my chest. Cheekbone to my collarbone. Silken hair to my nostrils. Messy palms to my damp t-shirt. Clenching my fists, I strain to deepen the embrace, battling with demons to offer kindness where coldness resides. My instincts are to protect and nurture, even if deception burrows under my skin.
Her chin rises, so those astounding green eyes invite me into the forest, enticing me to tread into her wilderness. I gulp back the heartbeat slamming in my larynx, pausing a breath when she licks her lips. Somehow, at some point, her misery morphs to hunger, and the sadness gripping her heart requires separation for the sake of sanity. She breathes me in as I breathe her out. In the flicker of an eye, a sugary kiss lands on my lips, scorching inside me hotter than a rogue woodland fire. My demons run free, and she catches them with one faint groan.
From my mouth to my chest, the flurry of intimacy dominates. Heaven baked in hell. Vanilla frosting torched by flames. Sponge cake burning over coals. Buttercream blistering in lava. All the ingredients combine to form one big fuck up of perfection and subservience.
We indulge in cautious pressure. My muscles brace as I permit her to continue. She decimates my thirst for pain and invites pleasure. I sample the one thing I’ve unknowingly missed—sensuality and affection.
I growl into her mouth, nipping the plump fleshy lip to halt her pursuit. This has to end before I do something I’ll bitterly regret. “Enough.” When I lean back, her fingers only grip tighter. “No.” The word lashes out in a brittle order. I’m struggling to take ownership of my mind. Satin soft lips hook me on the suggestion of more. My brain decides her mouth is better than a hard punch to the jaw. I jerk backward and dig my fingers in her cheeks. “I said stop.” My nostrils flare. “I can’t do this.”
Raen stills, her eyes unreadable. She swats my hand, signaling for a release. Instantly, I unlock my fingers and jerk back. She wipes her mouth with cake-stained fingers. “Can’t or won’t?” Her head shakes, flustered and dazed. “It was only a kiss.”
Leftover sugariness coats my lips. It tastes like temptation. The fervid glow in her eyes calls to my reckless side, reminding me of the man I was before tragedy. He hasn’t really gone; he's suffocated behind suffering.
I want to fuck her.
“A kiss?” More like an introduction to a nightmare. I rise, rounding my shoulders and cracking my neck. Raen sits on her shins, gazing up at me with a peachy pout. Those lips taunt me. “I’m the man who’s trying to help you, not fuck you,” I bite out. “You’ve got this set up all wrong.”
