Broken Heart 05 Over My Dead Body (14 page)

His other arm was tucked under his head. He seemed content with that one simple connection. I, on the other hand, felt like wiggling closer and doing things I really shouldn’t.

“I want to talk to you about Shayla,” he said.

The mention of another woman’s name instantly doused my ardor. “Who’s Shayla?”

Eep. I sounded jealous and suspicious.

He knew it, too. He grinned. “She was my sister. My twin. When we were seventeen, she was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia. She should’ve survived it. Eighty-five percent of those diagnosed with ALL do survive. But four months later, she was gone.”

“Oh, God, Brady. I’m so sorry.” I kissed his collarbone and smoothed my hand over his scruffy face. He looked at me, and I saw the sorrow in his eyes.

“The day she found out, she insisted we go get tattoos.”

“Really? Where’s yours?”

“Used to be here.” He raised the hand cupping my hip and showed me his wrist. I saw only a small mass of white scarring. “Two hearts linked together. When I joined the PET, they removed it. We weren’t supposed to have any identifiable marks—plausible deniability and all that shit.

“She wanted to be a vet, and I wanted to be an architect. After I lost her, I decided not to go to college. Without Shayla, life was just gray.”

“You were really close.”

“Yeah. We’d been best friends our whole lives. After our parents died, all we had were each other. I never imagined that I’d have to live without her.” He sighed. “I joined the Army. It was an impulsive decision, but turns out I was pretty good at being a soldier.”

“I’m sorry you lost your sister,” I said. “I’m sorry she died, Brady.”

He brushed his lips across mine. “I never thought I’d find someone else I could talk to the way I talked to her. I could pour my heart out and know my secrets were safe.” He kissed me again. Lust fluttered anew. “That’s how I feel with you, Simone. Safe.”

I felt such awe that he trusted me with his secrets. Yet I wasn’t sure I deserved to be Brady’s confidante. He didn’t know about my past, and I didn’t think I could tell him. I didn’t want that look that was on his face now, the one that was so warm and . . . well, loving . . . to be wiped away.

“I have pictures of her,” he said. “I’ll show you, if you want.”

“I’d love to see them. Thank you for sharing that part of your life with me, Brady.”

He nodded. “What about you?”

I looked at him questioningly.

“You had nightmares.” His blue gaze captured mine and I saw his concern, his curiosity. “Bad ones, Simone. Tell you the truth, I’m damned interested in knowing just who the hell Jacob is.”

“Is that why you told me about Shayla? So I’d tell you about Jacob?” Unease skittered through me. It was one thing to hear and promise to keep the secrets of another. And it was something else entirely to give away mine.

“No, Simone. I told you about my sister because I wanted you to know about her. You can trust me. But if you don’t want to talk about this Jacob guy . . . then okay.”

The only person in the whole wide world who knew about my husband was Gran. Everyone else thought I was just a financially struggling widow who moved in with her grandmother. That was true enough, I supposed. But it was only a part of the story.

I could tell Brady some of it. I could share with him what I hadn’t shared with anyone else. I trusted him, too. At least, as much as I could trust anyone.

I’d been raised by two parents who loved me and who loved God. They took me to church every Sunday. Their religion built a web of pretty lies about a beneficent deity who granted mercy and gave each of His children purpose. I believed it all—even after God saw fit to kill my parents in a car accident when I was only nineteen.

I told Brady all of this. I couldn’t hold his gaze, so I stared at his wrinkled T-shirt. “That was the same year I met Jacob. He was twenty and had already served two years in the Air Force.

“I believed God had put Jacob into my life to heal me. To guide me the way my parents had. I did everything he said. I gave up college. I gave him access to my inheritance and the money from my parents’ insurance.”

I paused, thinking about those early days. Jacob told me that he’d found the perfect woman. A trustworthy woman of faith and virtue. I was a virgin. I’d never been in love. And Jacob was handsome, charming, and said everything I needed to hear.

“He said he loved me and that he wanted a family,” I continued. “And I wanted to be loved and cherished. We married, and he was assigned to Nellis Air Force Base.”

Brady tensed. I looked up at him. I couldn’t really discern his expression, but I got the feeling he knew something I didn’t. Surely not about Jacob? Or maybe he was just getting upset on my behalf, suspecting what was to come.

“We lived off base. I hadn’t realized it until later, but he was separating me from the other wives, the potential to make friends. Every social engagement I got to attend was only on his terms, with his rules.”

I didn’t realize he was controlling me—not until the first time I broke one of those rules, and he made sure I paid the price. I couldn’t tell Brady that. I didn’t want to admit how weak I’d been.

But he guessed, anyway.

“He hit you.”

I nodded. I lived day by day, scared and compliant, trying everything possible to make him happy. I believed I deserved the way he treated me. He had me convinced that I wasn’t a good enough wife. Every time he got pissed off, the failure was mine. So I spent a lot of time trying to figure out the wants and needs of my husband without ever considering my own.

Then I got pregnant.

“Jacob seemed happy about the baby,” I told Brady. “I naively thought that having a child would make everything better. I figured Jacob wouldn’t hit me anymore. And Glory would fill up the emptiness inside me.”

Jacob hadn’t counted on our elderly neighbor Lyle Williams befriending me. Or that I might one day grow a spine. Or that he might have reason to be afraid of what I could do to him.

This was what I couldn’t tell Brady. I didn’t have the guts to confess what had happened that night when Jacob pushed me too far. Lyle had paid the price. And so had Glory.

I’d do it all again, in a heartbeat, if it meant saving my child. But I was ashamed. I’d built a new life, a life given to me because of the sacrifice of others.

“You left him?”

I nodded again. “I was so fucked up.”

“You were terrorized by a man who took vows to protect you and honor you. At least you got out. Some women never leave their abusers.”

“I got counseling. I learned a new trade. And I made sure that Glory and I just . . . disappeared.” It wasn’t that I didn’t want Jacob to find us. He was dead. I didn’t want to be tracked by authorities. I didn’t want to have to answer for what had happened. Any bravery attained by standing up to Jacob had been voided by running away from the consequences of what I’d done.

Becoming a vampire wasn’t in my life plan, but overall, it worked out. Now we’d be off the grid forever. No way would the Consortium allow one of their own to be taken into the human world. We survived only because they didn’t believe we existed.

“He’s dead.” I figured I could give Brady that much without revealing the why and the how.

“And yet you still have nightmares about what he did to you.”

Only because I’d thought I heard some intruder whistling “Mack the Knife.” Even the idea of that song was enough to give me the heebie-jeebies. No wonder my subconscious had gone wacky.

Why hadn’t I told Brady about the figure in the woods? I didn’t like the idea of being under suspicion for hurting Shawn and Rick. Telling him or anyone else that I’d seen a mysterious man would just make everyone think I was lying to protect myself.

Maybe I’d hallucinated. That thought wasn’t any more comforting than thinking my dead-and-buried husband was roaming around Broken Heart.

Brady rubbed my back. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

That remained to be seen. But for now, everything was okay, especially since I was snuggled in Brady’s arms.

Brady’s fingers slid down the gap in my gown. His fingertips hesitated on my bare skin. I waited, expectant.

“I should probably get up,” he murmured. “Dr. Merrick will be back soon.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, not meaning it.

He didn’t move.

Instead, he shifted so I was pressed fully against him. His erection (whoa, baby) rubbed my belly. I felt my breath catch (or would have if the whole breath thing actually worked).

I wrapped my arms around his neck, lifted my face as his lips descended toward mine.

He went in for the set-her-on-fire kiss. No gentle persuasion this time. His tongue pierced the seam of my lips, and I eagerly met his invasion.

I let myself get lost in the moment. No more denials, no more doubts. Only me. And Brady. And this.

He rolled me onto my back and covered me. His hard-on slid between my thighs, putting delightful pressure on my clit.

I trembled. I was so uncertain about these feelings Brady caused, but really, I was responding to that hot ache inspired by him. His kisses and touches made promises I hoped he’d keep.

He had that guy essence, not cologne, just power and sex and yum. His body covered mine, and I felt a split second of panic before forcing myself to relax.

If I knew anything at all about Braddock Hayes, it was that he wouldn’t hurt me. He was not Jacob, and I would not allow my old fears to spoil how I felt about this man.

We kissed until I ached with yearning I’d never known. It wasn’t just the raw need for sexual mating, but the desire for a genuine connection. Human beings always searched for that mythical romance-novel intimacy, where sex wasn’t just about the physical enjoyment but the melding of souls.

I don’t think I wanted soul melding so much as I wanted affection. I didn’t realize how starved I was for the touch of another. What pleasure was derived from the simplest gestures: laughing together, holding hands, kissing.

I didn’t stop him when he pushed the bedcovers down and tugged up my hospital gown. I was awash in sensations. I couldn’t stop quivering.

No one had seen me naked since Jacob.

Three years was a lifetime as a single woman with no dating prospects.

Anxiety wrestled with lust. Lust won easily enough.

Brady skimmed the underside of my breasts; his thumbs brushed the edges of my areolas.

“Brady?”

He looked at me, his blue eyes dazed with such tender longing that I lost my ability to speak.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice husky. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted a woman the way I want you.”

He punctuated that statement by suckling one turgid peak into the warm cave of his mouth.

Pleasure bloomed, a fire flower that burned all the way to you-know-where. I weaved my quaking fingers into his thick, soft hair.

He let go, licked the hard nipple, and blew on the crinkled flesh until the peak tightened even more.

Butterflies danced in my stomach.

He moved his attention to my other nipple. But while his mouth worshipped my breast, his hand clasped the one he’d tortured, pulling on my aching nipple.

Holy freaking fuck.

My body was having one helluva of a party and made it clear that the brain was not invited to attend. My mind clouded. No more thinking.

Click. Click. Click.

What the hell was that noise?

Brady rose above me and attacked my mouth again. I couldn’t resist the urge to touch his cock. I maneuvered my hand between us and stroked the poor trapped thing.

Brady moaned. He tore his mouth away from mine. “God, I want to be inside you.”

“We can’t,” I whispered.

“I know.” He rested his forehead on mine, trying to gather his breath. I heard the frantic pounding of his heart, and knew he was tormenting himself as much as he was me.

Click. Click. Click.

The damned sounds were familiar.

High heels on laminate flooring.

Shit! Dr. Merrick was headed down the hallway. I looked at Brady, my eyes wide.

“Goddamn it.” He rolled off the bed while I got re-tucked into the covers. Brady dragged the chair as close as he could to the bed and sat in it. I’m sure he was trying to hide his erection, but that thing wasn’t easily disguised.

Dr. Merrick entered the room a few seconds later. I felt like my parents had caught me necking with my boyfriend. That had never happened, given that I hadn’t dated in high school.

The doctor, however, gave no indication that she knew what Brady and I had been doing. She came around the other side of the bed.

“You seem to be doing well,” said Dr. Merrick with no hint of irony. If I could blush, I’d be as red as a cooked lobster. “Brady, why don’t you excuse us for just a minute? I’ll examine Simone, and if all is well I’ll discharge her.”

Brady took my hand and squeezed. “I’ll go to the vending machines and get some of that bad coffee.”

He left, in a hurry, I might add. I bit my lip, trying not to laugh. Poor Brady.

“He’s a good man,” said Dr. Merrick. “You’re very lucky.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. There was no point in denying Brady and I were (gulp) together. All the same, I didn’t much feel like talking about it. “So, what are you going to do? It’s not like you can check my pulse or listen to my heartbeat.”

“True.” Dr. Merrick sat on the edge of the bed. “Frankly, vampire bodies rarely require medical treatment. Even the most grievous of injuries can be healed with enough rest.”

“How will the nanobytes affect me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe not at all, except that they are rejecting any blood but Brady’s. No vampire has ever had to deal with this particular situation.”

“Vampire cyborg. Sounds like a late-night horror movie.”

She chuckled. “Yes. But you survived the trauma.” She looked down at me, her eyes questioning. “I examined you when they brought you in. Your Turning did not erase all the signs of abuse. Whatever happened to the person who hurt you?”

I killed him. I put on my brightest smile. “I took my daughter and escaped.”