Consume Me

by Geneva Lee

  Knowing she might never understand.

  Inside, I heard low voices though: Smith and Belle.

  In a moment of self-loathing, I opened the door to find them seated closely together. Elizabeth was playing on the ground, oblivious to Belle’s blanched face and doubled over position. Smith knelt beside her, rubbing her back soothingly.

  Stepping in, I tried to ignore the wave of jealousy that rolled through me. It should be me coming to check on my wife. It should be Clara watching over our daughter.

  It wasn’t their fault that wasn’t the case. They were doing what they could for me. But I resented seeing what I didn’t have from some pure place inside of me that couldn’t be reasoned with. As the door clicked shut behind me, Belle looked up, rearranging her slack face into a beaming smile.

  “Alexander,” she said, swallowing hard on the last syllable. “Come to see Elizabeth?”

  My daughter who’d caught wind of her father’s name flopped onto her side. Pushing onto her tiny palms, she stood and began toddling toward me, laughing and crying at the same time.

  Part of me wanted to turn and bolt. I couldn’t face her. I couldn’t answer when she asked for “mummy.” Instead I allowed instinct to take over. Dropping down, I caught her in my arms. She wrapped two chubby arms around my neck and held on for dear life as a steady stream of gibberish babbled from her.

  “She misses you,” Belle said without a hint of accusation. “Edward’s been coming to see her, but he’s been busy with the—”

  She clapped a hand over her mouth, her pale face turning visibly green. Belle was pregnant, too. Belle needed rest. I’d been too caught up in my own problems to remember that the people I considered my family had their own needs.

  “I’ve been ordered to take a shower and a nap,” I said to Smith. “I think maybe Belle could use a break. I’ll take Elizabeth.”

  Smith mouthed his thanks as he helped a still-green Belle to her feet.

  “Use one of the bedrooms if you want,” I told them as I gathered a blanket and supplies.

  “I’ll be back soon,” Belle promised, guilt clashing with queasiness on her face. She looked so pained, I could almost feel it, too.

  “Don’t worry about it. My place is here.” I glanced down to my daughter. I wasn’t ready to admit she was all I had left, but I couldn’t keep ignoring that I still had her.

  “Thank you,” Smith said under his breath as we left the nursery.

  I forced a smile, hoping I looked sincere, as we parted ways. They headed to the other end of the hall where a number of guest suites sat unused.

  Now I had another problem to deal with. The truth was that although I prided myself on being a hands-on father, I had very little experience with occupying a dangerously mobile toddler while attempting other tasks.

  Scouting the bathroom, I quickly shut us inside, spread the blanket of the floor, and then looked around for potential death traps. After I’d closed the door to the toilet, barricaded the linen closet and double checked for low-to-the-ground outlets, I finally stripped down to take a shower while Elizabeth occupied herself with a washcloth on the floor.

  It wasn’t remotely relaxing, keeping one eye on my daughter, who was busy placing the cloth on her head like a hat, and trying to scrub off the frustration that seemed to coat my every limb.

  This wasn’t what I’d signed up for. It wasn’t how my life was supposed to be. But I was here, she was here, and I needed to do better. Clara wouldn’t have avoided our child for days if I was gone. She wouldn’t have let someone else play mother.

  I needed to remember that I was Elizabeth’s father—and that was a greater gift than some men ever knew. I was just rinsing shampoo from my hair when I opened one eye to discover the blanket abandoned. Before I could panic, I glanced down to find her face pressed against the shower stall. Smiling, I bent and placed my palm over hers. She fell back laughing. Then stood up and smashed her face against the glass again. This time I smashed my face, too.

  I couldn’t hear her giggles over the running water, but I felt them flooding through me. It was warmth and joy and light. It was everything that I thought I’d lost—everything I thought was missing. But it had been here all along.

  Someone had taken Clara, but they hadn’t taken our love. No one could do that. Elizabeth was proof of that. Nothing could ever diminish what I felt for my wife. That was why I was going to be okay—we were going to be okay. Our love existed within us. It fueled us. It drove us.

  Nothing could extinguish it—and that’s what made us unstoppable.

  * * *

  After my shower, I threw on jeans and t-shirt. Elizabeth had begin to rub her eyes, so I changed her nappy and took her to her room. Maybe it was the tentative peace I’d made but I felt as tired as she looked.

  The second I laid her into her bed, she reached for me.

  “It’s okay, princess. Daddy’s going to be right here.” I sank into the nearest armchair and grabbed a book. There was no way I’d be able to nap in my own bed anyway. I’d only read her a few lines when my own eyelids began to feel heavy.

  When I glanced over, I discovered her fast asleep, curled into a ball. I’d been looking for Clara—searching for my life, my heart—so hard that I’d forgotten I had a piece of it here.

  “Come to bed,” Clara called to me softly.

  I startled and looked over to the crib. “Maybe I should stay.”

  “Penny will be here,” she reminded me, “and she’s going to be fine.”

  I wasn’t sure if she was talking about our new nursemaid or our daughter.

  “She might wake up,” I argued.

  “She might,” Clara agreed, “and then we’ll come and get her.”

  I’d been against moving her into her own room at night. We’d had Elizabeth in our room since she was born. Now nearly nine months later, Clara was putting her foot down and laying some boundary lines. I’d agreed to them in theory. Now that we were actually doing it…

  Clara stepped into the room, allowing her silk robe to flutter open in invitation. “Alone time. Remember, X?”

  Then there was that.

  We barely made it across the hall before I’d torn the robe from her shoulders. Clara met my animalistic moves with a happy sigh as I lifted her off her feet and carried her to the bed. Throwing her down, I pounced.

  “Is this what you’re after?” I asked, dropping a hand between her legs.

  Her head fell back as she moaned, but then she opened her bright eyes and shook her head.

  “No?” I stopped only to have her push me away. Before I could process the rejection and what it meant, Clara was on her hands and knees crawling to me.

  “This is what I’m after,” she crooned, running her palm over the thick outline of my cock.

  “It’s all yours, poppet.” I lounged against the headboard as she unfastened my slacks and freed me. Clara’s eyes stayed on me as she lowered her mouth to the crown of my cock.

  I loved watching her suck me off. I loved when she would pause and run her tongue over her lips like she wanted to savour the moment.

  But there was one thing I loved more. Grabbing her, I lifted her up and set her over my lap. Clara didn’t resist. Instead, she circled her hips, sinking over me with delicious restraint.

  Her eyes rolled back as I filled her in.

  “That’s it,” I coaxed her, rolling myself against her. “I’ll take care of you.”

  “Promise?” She moaned as her breath began to hitch.

  “Always,” I vowed. Reaching for her hip, my hand closed over silk and then she was gone. Her silk robe was in my hands but there was no Clara.

  I shot out of the chair, only remembering where I was in time to stop myself from waking Elizabeth.

  I didn’t think. I couldn’t. I’d had her in my hands. It was only a memory, but it had felt so real and it had reminded of exactly what I had to lose.

  Marching down the hall, I went to Sarah’s room and threw open the door. She s
at up in bed, eyes rimmed with tears, expectation on her face.

  “Where is she?” I demanded, tired of these games, tired of maneuvers, tired of knowing the answers might be right down the hall.

  Sarah burst into tears. “I don’t know.”

  Chapter 16

  He was beginning to grow bored. A day had passed, at least. It felt more like two. Regardless of how they tried to screw with his senses, his internal clock regulated the hours fairly accurately. During that time, nothing had happened.

  And Norris needed something to happen.

  He’d managed to carefully unfasten the restraints, despite the broken bones in his hand and refasten them at the loosest setting. That meant it looked like nothing was out of the ordinary to the nurses when they came to check.

  He had to wonder, though, why it hadn’t occurred to anyone that his lack of escape attempts was the most suspicious thing of all. In his day, MI-18 operatives had been better trained.

  He had no doubt that was who had him now. Although he hadn’t worked out the why yet, he’d come up with a number of plausible scenarios. All he had from the evening of the attack was fragmented memories and they told a chilling story.

  It was nearly enough to make him throw caution to the window and try his luck. But luck would only get him so far. Planning and waiting, even while the clock wound down, were much more likely to yield positive results.

  He reminded himself of that every waking hour that passed without incident. He was about to release his theory when he heard shouts in the hallway and the sound of a gurney’s wheels.

  Norris slipped his hands through the loosened cuffs and sat up, carefully keeping his blood pressure in check until the moment he tore off the leads connecting him to the machines.

  Standing, he found his legs stiff, but the more trying physical obstacle was the soreness in his lower abdomen from where he’d been stabbed. The good news was that adrenaline was already beginning to kick in. He’d collected two useful objects from the nursing staff over the last two days: a badge and a paperclip. Because he’d been bound, no one had bothered to check him for the missing items although he was certain that their disappearance had been noted.

  On cue, a security officer walked into the door. Even with whatever chaos was going on outside, someone had noticed the monitors and hand delivered exactly what he needed.

  “Stop,” the guard ordered, reaching for his pistol.

  That was his first mistake. He should have had it drawn when he came in.

  A base-level security officer was no match for a man who’d been trained in six forms of martial arts. Two moves and one carefully timed chokehold and Norris knocked him out. Killing him—however much he might have liked to—wouldn’t do him any good.

  Within a minute, he had the man stripped and in the hospital bed. Reattaching the leads to the guard and angling the man’s face carefully meant that no one would check in again until the guard failed to check in. Norris could fake that. He knew the protocols. That meant he had until a nurse went on rounds to get out of here.

  The guard’s uniform fit well enough. He was a little taller, but no one would notice.

  Instinct took over as he made his way to the door and peeked around it. The hall was deserted. Whatever emergency had offered the needed distraction had the attention of everyone on this level.

  There were two ways to escape a high-surveillance situation. The first was simple. Don’t be seen before you’re out. It was also nearly impossible. Given modern technology, movement could easily be tracked. Anything out of the ordinary would catch the attention of security. That meant the second way was usually the best. It also required more than an average skill level.

  Blending in with his surroundings, looking like he belonged—that was the only ticket out of an MI-18 secured facility. He knew that. It’s why he’d patiently waited days to gather as much information as possible before he made an attempt.

  He’d only get one chance. Of course, he only needed one.

  Security systems in corridors usually relied on cameras tucked in perpendicular corners at either end. Opening his door a crack meant he could see out while blocking one camera. The other quite possibly had a clear view of him. That’s where the distraction came in. Whatever was occupying the entire medical staff likely had the attention of the men watching the cameras as well.

  Slipping across to the nurse’s station, he sank onto a stool, dropped the seat low, and swiveled it to look around at his options. The lower height of the chair combined with the higher counter would help block the cameras in the hall. There was likely one trained on the station—one that was rarely watched. No one ever worried about what was going on behind the counter.

  In a regular hospital, he might be able to access the profiles of the doctors on staff, see who matched his general description, height, and build. But this wasn’t county general and that sort of info wouldn’t be left around. He was looking for something else. Scanning a few files, he finally spotted one with a familiar label.

  Norris, James.

  The paperwork inside consisted of nothing more than a few sheets of test results, mostly pertaining to blood work. Next to his own results, two more sets were printed but not labeled.

  He didn’t need to know more than that. It told him exactly why he was here, but not why they’d kept him alive. They could have just as easily done the tests with him dead. Maybe someone upstairs was feeling sentimental.

  Standing and determined to blend in as soon as the staff started filtering into their positions, he kept his head down as he began to move back to the corridor. But before he did, another file caught his eye. A quick scan told him that escape wasn’t going to be as simple as getting out.

  Not after discovering Clara was here, too.

  Chapter 17

  CLARA

  Alexander swept his hands down my arms before grabbing hold of my hips. Drawing me roughly against him, I closed my eyes in anticipation. It felt like forever since he’d touched me. Now that he was here—now that his hands were on me—I couldn’t remember what had kept us apart. It hadn’t been important. This was what mattered.

  He was what mattered.

  I melted into him, allowing him to take control. He needed that as much as I needed to give in.

  “Are you ready, poppet?” he asked, his eyes fixed on something behind me.

  I shook my head. Not without knowing what it was. Not without knowing what I needed to do.

  “Oh, poppet.” His lips skimmed down my neck, sending a fluttering need directly to my core. “You have to have trust.”

  “I do. I trust you.” Somehow I meant it but still felt uncertain. It didn’t make sense.

  “Not me,” he said, brushing his lips over mine and earning a whimper. “Yourself. You have to trust yourself.”

  A leather cuff hooked over my wrist as he spoke and I looked up at him, my wide eyes reflected in his.

  “But I can’t do it,” I argued even as my body relaxed into the restraints. I usually could when he asked me. What was different now?

  “Yes, you can, poppet.” He fastened the other. With one swift smile, he dropped to the floor but rather than spreading my legs, he placed his cheek against my swollen belly. “For us. For all of us.”

  I pulled against the restraints as the world tipped over, light blinded me overhead, and then a familiar, but unwelcome voice, filtered down to me. “Oh! You’re awake.”

  I shook my head, trying to clear cobwebs, and make sense of where I was. My wrists were restrained but I felt the steady cold stream of an IV in my arm.

  “The doctor is on the way,” June said as though this might reassure me. Given that I was cuffed to a gurney, it didn’t. “It’s time to have the baby.”

  I knew that, but my heart plummeted into my stomach all the same. I’d known when David came. I’d known when the apple waited on the tray. I’d known what was coming and I knew what I had to do now.

  It had been a gamble to guess that one b
ite might be enough to knock me out but not keep me out. All I had left was bluffing my way across the board and hoping no guessed that my erratic moves served a larger agenda.

  “Is David here?” I asked her. “We didn’t get to finish our talk.”

  We had, in fact. I’d decided that we were through speaking when I bit into the fruit. Nothing he could say would erase his sins in my eyes. I wasn’t interested in hearing him beg for forgiveness as he held a gun to my head.

  “I’ll go find him. You relax.” She brushed a hand over my head and I swallowed against the urge to vomit.

  I doubted most prisoners were relaxed as they walked to the gallows. That’s where I was now, waiting for death, and if I didn’t play my cards right she would have me.

  I tested the cuffs once she was gone but they held fast. I wouldn’t be released again. I recalled my first c-section and how my arms had been tied to the table. It’d been oddly humiliating given the circumstances—a strange thing to center on when I’d spent the hours before surgery being pocked, prodded, and displayed.

  Now I was spread like a sacrifice—a virgin awaiting the slaughter. But I wasn’t a virgin, and I wasn’t going to give in and accept this.

  I was going to fight.

  Chapter 18

  ALEXANDER

  We’d been over everything a dozen times and Sarah’s story hadn’t changed. That wouldn’t stop me from forcing her to tell it again despite the caustic looks Georgia was shooting me behind her back.

  “Again,” I demanded.

  Sarah hiccoughed before she began recounting her story. She’d been crying the entire time. “I woke up from the accident and I was told I would need physical therapy.”

  I nodded. That’s how her story always started. I couldn’t decide if that meant that she knew it cold or she was telling the truth. Norris would know. He’d also been better at interrogations.