Echo (Black Lotus #2)(53)
“Why are you so cold? You’re so on and off,” I question, confused by this push and pull he has with me.
“Certainly you don’t need reminding, do you?”
I watch as he ascends, and I’m left alone in the silence of his home. His demeanor shifts in a snap, and I can only assume that whoever he was just talking to on the phone is the cause for that sudden snap. I don’t worry about being followed because I deserve the distrust.
Making my way back up the stairs, I notice the door to his room is open and quietly pad over. When I look in, he’s lying on top of his perfectly made bed. His hands folded behind his head, ankles crossed, and staring up at the ceiling. I’m allowed a moment to absorb him before he senses my presence.
With his body remaining still and his eyes fixed to the ceiling, he says without any inflection, “Get out of my room.”
His tone is even, but I can hear the animosity deep within. So I go to the room he’s put me in and crawl under the sheets. There’s a disconnection inside of me, no doubt due to the extremities of this evening. Maybe I should be embarrassed that Declan saw me coming completely undone like he did, but I’m numb to emotion right now. My body is depleted, and to dissect this whole situation would take more energy than I have. So I roll to my side and stare out of the large windows at the full moon that lights the night’s ink and slowly drift away.
WHISPERS CATCH ME, wrapping their sweet timbres around my heart, and gently pull me out of my slumber.
“Elizabeth,” his soft rasp calls to me. “Open your eyes.”
Fingers comb through my hair, and the touch sends a sparkling shiver through me, warming me from the inside and rousing me awake.
Declan sits on the edge of the bed, hand cupping the side of my head as he looks down upon me. And he’s so beautiful, I question if I’m still dreaming.
“Are you feeling okay?”
Exhaustion is all over me, and as much as I want to stay up with him, my eyes drop. I’m able to answer his question with a nod before sleep takes over.
LIGHT FILTERS THROUGH my lids, and when my eyes flutter open, I see Declan moving about the bathroom. When he emerges in the doorway with a glass of water, he flicks the light off, darkening the room. I’m in a haze as his shadow moves closer to me, and when I feel the bed dip, my arm instinctually reaches out for him.
“Here,” he says. “Take these.”
Dropping a couple painkillers in my hand, I put them in my mouth and then take a sip from the glass of water he gives me. My head falls back to the pillow, weighing a thousand pounds and throbbing with an oncoming headache. I release an appreciative hum at the fact Declan was a step ahead of me in knowing I would need the pain relief. And with my eyes closed, the haze thickens, and I sink into darkness.
GASPING HARD, I’M knocked out of a dead sleep as my body shoots up. Eyes flash open wide and I clutch my chest, panting loudly. My head is clouded with sleep as it strains to catch up to my alert body. Looking around my unfamiliar surroundings, I panic. Everything is disoriented.
“Elizabeth.”
My attention flies to the doorway of the room where Declan is standing, and it’s then my confusion dissipates into clarity.
“Are you okay?” he questions as he walks over to me and sits down on the bed.
“Yeah,” I tremble.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. Bad dream, I guess.”
We sit, facing each other, and I notice he’s no longer wearing his shirt, and the moment my eyes catch it, I choke on a strangled breath.
It’s there, on his chest—my disgrace.
The unmistakable proof.
The reality of my fraudulence.
My focus is locked on what remains from my twisted game. It mars his perfect body.
Two gunshot wounds branded on his left pec, tainting his chest in my scum.
My pulse quickens, and when he looks down to see what has me so shaken, my heart reunites with the anguish from when I thought I’d lost him forever.
My hand lifts, and he doesn’t stop me when I reach out and brush my fingertips over the bullet wounds. The raised flesh that hides the deep scar tissue beneath splinters me to the core.
I keep my eyes on his chest as he allows me this touch, and when my chin starts to quiver, I force my words out around the lump lodged in my throat, and the tears slip. “I thought you were dead.”
And in an unexpected move, a tender gesture I never thought I’d get again, he cups my face and licks my tears. My hands grip tightly to his wrists as he cradles my cheeks. Closing my eyes, I lean into his mouth as he swallows my salts.
In an unrushed moment, his lick eclipses into a silken kiss that erupts a wondrous rekindling inside of my womb. Whether I believe his emotions to be real or not, I pretend that they are, because I want his love so badly. I want to believe his lips are genuine and they mean exactly what my heart yearns for them to mean.
I calm as we now share the same breath. My hands still cling to his wrists because I need the support of his strength in this moment. Opening my lips with his, he sinks his tongue deep inside of my mouth, claiming and binding us together.
His taste is home—familiar and delicious.
My body begins to swim in bliss when he lays me down on my back, and my legs fall open for him. He’s incredibly hard, pressing himself against me. I whimper as his kisses become more intent. His lips begin to move fervently, rapturing my mouth, and I meld to him, allowing him to take take take. I’d give him my last breath if that’s what he desired.