Iniquitous (The Marked #3)(38)

After everything that had happened while I was away, I had no idea what I was going to say to him…or how I would feel when I finally saw him again. What would he think of me once he found out that I was bonded to Dominic? That I let him drink from me. That I drank from him. That I…that I begged him to kiss me.

I shook my head violently, hurtling away all the sordid memories.

“You could always come home with me,” offered Dominic, interrupting my steep descent into hell.

I looked up and met his gaze. There was something vulnerable flickering in his eyes—something that looked a lot like hope and fear. Fear that I wouldn’t just up and leave him now that this was over. Hope that I would still want him after I no longer needed him. And the truth was, I sort of did. I wanted to stay close to him because being close to him was the only constancy I had in my life right now. It was the only time I felt okay being in my own skin.

I couldn’t fully explain it, I just felt it.

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“My door is always open for you, angel.” His lips curled up in the most delicious way. “You don’t even have to knock.”



Huntington Manor was as quiet as a cemetery. The air was stale and thick, and the temperature chilled from being void of any life for the last few weeks. Even still, there was something comforting about being back there.

As was always customary with us, we walked straight into the den where Dominic immediately fixed himself a drink and then started a fire. I sat on the couch, my legs curled up beside me as I stared at the phone, trying to dig up enough courage to make the phone call I’d been too afraid to make since the moment we left Engel’s castle.

Dominic picked up the cordless phone and placed it on the sofa beside me.

I continued staring at it without moving for it.

“Should I make up the guestroom?” he asked, remarking my hesitation.

I crossed my arms and shook my head. “I don’t think I’ll be staying very long.” The words came out a lot sadder that I had intended them to.

“You could always postpone the call until tomorrow,” he said, hunger dousing his onyx eyes.

“I could, but…”

“But you won’t,” he finished for me knowingly.

It was unnerving the way he seemed to know me. When the hell did that happen?

“I’ll go see about a blanket,” he said with a wink and then turned to leave. “Give you some privacy like a decent man,” he added over his shoulder as he left the room.

I smiled absentmindedly at the spot he had been standing in. I wasn’t sure exactly when it happened, but things between Dominic and me had changed—evolved into something easier.

Snapping out of my daze, I picked up the phone with a shaky hand, though it took me several more seconds to turn the damn thing on.

There was only one number that mattered to me—one person I wanted to call, but I seemed to be paralyzed by fear. The truth was, I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready to face Trace yet, and I sure as shit wasn’t ready to tell him what had happened between Dominic and me while I was gone. It was going to shatter him—completely wreck him—and it killed me to know it would be by my own hand. A part of me just wanted to keep running, to keep avoiding it for as long as I could, but that ship had sailed without me. Every minute I wasted not calling him was another minute he spent worrying about me. And I couldn’t do that to him.

Drawing in a jagged breath, I keyed in his phone number.

“Hello?” answered the boy from my forever dreams.

His voice hit me like a knee-buckling punch to my gut.

“Hello?” he said again, his voice firmer now. Irritated. “Who is this?”

My stomach twisted into a knot as his voice fluttered through my mind like a childhood memory. How I’d missed that beautiful, deep baritone voice.

“I’m hanging up,” he snapped.

“It’s me, Trace.” My voice came out so low, I wasn’t even sure I’d said the words aloud.

Silence.

“Jemma?” he asked quietly as though he didn’t trust what he was hearing. “Is it really you?” There were so many emotions coloring his voice—disbelief, fear, confusion…desperation. I wasn’t sure how to respond to them with anything other than guilt and the intense desire to run.

“Jemma, talk to me. Where are you? Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay,” I finally answered. “I’m not hurt.”

There was a quick blow of relief on the other end. “Where have you been? What…what happened to you?”

I wanted to ease his worries, to answer all his questions, but I couldn’t delve into it right now. Not like this. Not on the phone. “Engel happened, Trace. But I’m okay. It’s finally over,” I said, hoping to somehow comfort him.

He paused again, his breathing heavier now. “Tell me where you are, Jemma. Please, I need to see you.”

I wasn’t sure how else to say it, so I just blurted it out. “I’m with Dominic.”

“Dominic?” Ice immediately laced his tone. “Why? What’s going on?”

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I can’t go home right now. Not until I figure out who I can trust.”

Another drawn out pause. No doubt he was trying to digest the sour taste of my words. “Why didn’t you come to me?” There was no mistaking the hurt in his voice. This was a blow to his heart; a blow to what we were before I was taken away from him.