Paradise Found: Cain (Paradise #2)(90)

He shook his head, twisting his lips, and smiling slowly at my teasing him.

“I’d be honored to have you train here, Betta,” I said, sticking out my hand.

“I’d be honored to be here, Cobra.”





The late summer sounds of my grandparents’ vineyard surrounded me. The birds chattered overhead under a bright sunny sky. The ripple of a cool river flowed before me. The soft rustle of the trees and low bushes protected this space: Eden. So many times, I wanted to return here, for its peace, its calm, its memories, but running away from trouble didn’t seem to solve anything. My parents had proven that by ignoring the money they owed and dismissing the debts my father incurred which resulted in their deaths. Kursch killed my parents in youthful haste, and while I had a difficult time forgetting this fact, I was trying to forgive him. He had many demons of his own to wrestle. He needed my compassion and friendship more than my hatred. Hatred destroyed, and there was no greater testament to this than Cain’s upbringing. Love could destroy, too and it was one of many reasons why he struggled with the concept. He was learning slowly, though, that love was powerful and above all things, it ruled in patience and kindness. He had the love of a mentor in Kursch, the love of his brother in Abel, and he had my love, too.

What I’d seen in Cain, after the stabbing of Kursch, was a glimpse of the small boy inside him, who steeled himself to the blows of a father, who did them in the name of love. Who steeled himself to the heartache of a mother leaving him behind with a responsibility too great for a child. A boy who wanted to be loved for who he was, not what he did, and the only person who did that was a man injured in a hospital. Until me. I was here to assure Cain that love could come in other means, other forms, and that knowledge was mine to teach him.

Large arms slipped around my waist and his chin rested on my shoulder. My fingers methodically traced over his wrist, down his hand, finding comfort in the silver band that surrounded his left ring finger.

“What are you thinking, wife of mine?” he teased softly into my neck.

“About life,” I smiled slowly.

He pulled back and gently turned me to face him.

“It’s going to be a good life, Sofie. I promise,” he said, and those dark eyes searched mine with concern. He was going to give us what we needed, those eyes assured me. “I never want you to regret you followed me,” he added.

“I don’t regret anything,” I said in reassurance. Leaning up on my toes, I kissed him briefly. Soft brushes were never enough for him and his mouth captured mine before I could pull back. His tongue coiled around mine, lovingly sucking me into him. His hands slid upward from my arms to brace my neck, as he continued his eager attention to my lips.

“I love you,” he muttered against me. He was rather forthcoming with the words, sharing them often as he welcomed the release of saying them and the warmth of receiving them. The empowerment I felt each and every time I used those words for his attention was indescribable.

“I love you,” I replied, and those dark eyes lit up like the night sky, speckled with stars.

“So,” he smiled slowly. “Renewing our vows with a real wedding in the fall. Family present this time. Honeymoon to Italy. What else do we need?”

Our families. Abel and Elma had come to meet my grandparents, who immediately welcomed them into the fold as if they belonged to the long line of Vincentia. My Papa was the one with the strangest reaction to Abel. He literally wept when he met him, drawing him in for a deep hug. Then he surprised us further by reaching out for Cain. Placing his hand reverently on him, he spoke rapidly in Italian I didn’t recognize and a peacefulness washed over Cain. It was almost spiritual.

Cain’s teasing tone led me away from being serious. It was my turn to smile sheepishly. An eyebrow rose slightly, questioning me before I spoke.

“I’m so excited to see David again,” I prompted, my mouth tweaking into a crooked smile.

“David?” he hissed, drawing back from me.

“You know, he’s hung like a horse,” I whispered conspiratorially. Instantly, my feet left the hard packed earth and a breeze wiped my hair as Cain raced for the river with me over his shoulder.

“I’ll show you hung like a horse,” he growled playfully. “Rather, thick like a cobra. Long,” he exaggerated. “Fierce,” he continued as the sound of water splashing under his feet made me squeal with fearful anticipation.

“You wouldn’t,” I shrieked, tightening my hold on the seat of his pants.

“Slick, pulsing,” he carried on, ignoring me as he continued to descend into the cool river, struggling with the growing depth of it.

“Cain,” I warned, but it was too late.

“Wet,” he laughed, and together we dunked under the cold water. We were under for mere seconds when he pulled us upright. I let out a scream at the shock of the coldness, but he only laughed harder and the sensation of it rippling over his chest warmed me.

“How wet are you, my sweet temptation?” he teased, bright eyes glaring down at me with that hypnotic way he had; only the intensity had softened. I was already a willing prey; he an eager captor, but we didn’t need to play that game anymore.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I replied, reading into his innuendo.

“Oh, you know I do, Sofie. I do, I do.” His tone turned serious.