Declan (Special Forces: Operation Alpha) (Gold Team Book 5)

by Riley Edwards

  “I know you don’t want it. I know.” Thad took a step toward me and my body tensed.

  “You don’t know shit.”

  “I don’t know what was taken from you but I know it marked you deep. It scared you. But, brother, I’m telling you, you need to hear this. It’s not too late. You can have it again.”

  Fucking, fucking, hell.

  “I don’t want it again. There’s no replacing what I had.”

  Christ.

  I was a goddamn liar, I did want it. I wanted it so bad I was dangerously close to taking it. Then the guilt hit.

  Fuck.

  “Man up and be what she needs.”

  Steel infused my spine and every muscle coiled and readied to strike.

  “You wouldn’t say that shit if you knew what the—”

  “I don’t need to know jack shit to know you’re suffering, and I’d bet that woman in there could heal that. The same way you could heal her if you let yourself. And don’t bother responding because I won’t believe a fuckin’ word you speak. Now your actions, those are loud and clear, friend. So in two seconds when you haul ass into the house to go find Autumn, I’ll know I’m right.”

  Thad stood with his arms crossed over his chest, face set to stone, and waited me out.

  Fucking prick.

  Wordlessly, I turned and did exactly what he said I’d do—went to search for Autumn.

  And when I found her in the shower, I realized I shouldn’t have wasted a minute having a pointless conversation with Thad. Not when Autumn was in crisis, not that crisis began to describe what she was in the middle of.

  I kicked off my shoes, dropped my pants, yanked off my tee in record time. Once I was down to my boxers, I stepped in behind her and got my first unobstructed view of her skin. Through the plastic curtain, I saw her scrubbing her body. What I couldn’t see was she’d been at it awhile. Her skin was blotchy and bright red.

  “Baby, stop.”

  “I can’t get clean.”

  Fucking Christ.

  I reached behind her and tried to turn the scalding water to a bearable temperature.

  “Don’t. It has to be hot.”

  “You’re clean, Autumn. There’s nothing on you.”

  She tipped her head back and her eyes came to mine. Dead, sad eyes that destroyed me.

  “It’s in me,” she corrected.

  “No, baby, it’s not. There’s nothing dirty about you.”

  Nothing. Not even a flicker of recognition that my words registered.

  “It’s in me,” she repeated. “All the filth they left me. It’s alive. I can feel it. It crawls around if I let it.”

  I knew that feeling.

  “You gotta let it out of you.” What the hell was I saying? “It can’t live inside you.”

  “You don’t know.” Her broken whisper stabbed me in my broken heart.

  I slowly lifted my hands but she still flinched and jerked her head away. “I’m gonna touch you,” I belatedly warned.

  “Don’t.”

  I should’ve heeded her demand, but the overwhelming urge to comfort her overrode my good sense. I knew better. She’d never, not once, pushed me. She’d never crossed the invisible lines we’d drawn. But I couldn’t get Thad’s words out of my head. I wasn’t all right with her living with the poison that was eating her from the inside out. I wasn’t all right with her looking at me with dead eyes and a pale face. Fear so stark I could no longer deny it. I wanted to work it out of her. I wanted her out of this life. I wanted her clear of her demons. I just plain wanted her, but I didn’t have the first goddamn clue how to help her when I couldn’t see to myself.

  My hands gently cupped her face and adrenaline filled my veins.

  Just from a soft touch.

  My thumbs featherlight over her cheeks.

  Christ, she felt good.

  Over the months, I’d had Autumn in a variety of ways, none of them gentle. Never soft. My eyes went from watching my hands to her lips. Beautiful, plump lips that looked delicious, yet I’d never tasted them. I’d kissed, sucked, licked every other part of her body, but never her mouth.

  Impersonal.

  That had been us.

  That would no longer be the case.

  “Baby?”

  “Huh?”

  “Look at me, Autumn.”

  “I can’t.”

  She kept her eyes averted but hadn’t pulled away.

  “Baby, I need your eyes,” I pleaded.

  I hadn’t realized my mistake until her glossy green eyes came to mine. That’s when reality crashed over me. Aching need turned into hazardous necessity. It was wrong to want her as badly as I did. Wrong to want to soothe her pain. My heart slammed into my ribs and when I heard Autumn suck in oxygen, I knew, fucking knew with certainty, she was feeling the same thing.

  “I’m gonna kiss you,” I warned. She shook her head and panic filled her eyes. “Yeah, honey, nice and slow.”

  “Declan.”

  Fucking hell. My name falling from her lips in a heavy sigh. Beautiful.

  I’d heard her moan my name, scream it, chant it. But never had she breathed out my name.

  Christ. Exquisite.

  “I don’t…I never…I can’t.”

  “Can’t what, Autumn?”

  “Kiss,” she whispered.

  Between the sound of the water sluicing over us and the buzzing in my ears, I must’ve heard her wrong.

  “I don’t understand.”

  I slowly pulled her closer to me, ignoring the fact that she was naked and how easy it would be for me to change our positions so her back was against the shower wall. It wouldn’t take but a few minutes for me to make her body catch fire and sink balls deep. I knew from experience it would be rough, hot, and fantastic. She was a walking, talking fantasy come to life.

  All of her gorgeous.

  But right then, I wasn’t going to take us there. We’d had that—anger-fueled fucking that left us both empty after the deed was done. Momentary pleasure we’d used to relieve the pain.

  We were going to try something new—something that would mend rather than degrade.

  “I’ve never kissed a man.”

  My chest swelled and the steam billowing around us filled my lungs in a single deep inhale. How was that possible? She’d been held captive. Violated in the worst ways. Fucking Christ. I tamped down that line of thinking—I couldn’t change the past. I couldn’t erase what had been done or make her forget, but I could give her something she’d never had. Something good and gentle.

  Fuck, did I even remember how? I’d only had clean and soft once in my life before it was taken.

  For Autumn, I’d try.

  For Autumn, I’d walk through fire and burn until she found a slice of peace.

  I took in her red-rimmed eyes, her matted, wet hair, perfect lips, and wondered if I’d ever had a chance. From the moment I saw her, knife in hand dripping blood, the man she’d killed at my feet, I’d felt that invisible connection snap into place. She’d saved my life. And since that day, I hadn’t stopped thinking about her. Not a day had passed when she hadn’t flitted through my mind. Then she showed up in Annapolis and that connection simmered until neither of us could deny it was there.

  So, no, I never stood a chance. Not against her magnetic pull. Not against her beauty. My body, my broken heart, and my black soul recognized hers.

  Now I was going to kiss her after months of fucking her.

  And I didn’t have the first clue what the fuck I was doing.

  “Then I’ll be your first,” I rasped.

  “Declan.”

  Her eyes widened in fear, her body stiffened, but again she didn’t pull away.

  “Just feel, baby.” I brushed my lips against hers and felt them tremble. “Feel, baby,” I murmured, not taking my mouth off hers.

  “Spent my life not wanting to feel anything,” she muttered and my heart seized.

  Goddamn, I knew what that was like. Going through life, d
oing everything you could to dull the pain. Push it out, block it out, numb it. Anything and everything just so you didn’t feel.

  “Feel with me.”

  I licked the seam of her lips, Autumn gasped, and I gently pushed my tongue into her mouth. The first swipe of her tongue against mine was stilted and tentative. A few seconds passed and she tilted her head, relaxed her lips, and tried again. So fucking sweetly she moaned. Not a sex-induced groan of pleasure. A soul burning moan full of pain.

  I briefly doubted what I was doing to her was right. Making her feel something she didn’t want. Forcing her to give me something she’d kept for herself. I believed she’d never kissed any of those assholes who abused her. That was pure Autumn, she’d fight to keep a piece of herself, no matter how small. But she’d fight like fuck to control something when everything else was being taken from her.

  Now I’d taken it.

  Just when I was getting ready to break the kiss and apologize for being a supreme dick, she fully relaxed and pressed her naked tits against my bare chest. When she moaned again it was guttural, not painful but cleansing.

  And that was all I needed to stop thinking and start feeling with her.

  Feelings I’d long ago thought died. Feelings that went beyond lust, beyond release. Emotions I never wanted to feel again. But there was no denying she’d embedded herself in my soul.

  My hands tightened on her face and I fought to keep the kiss gentle when all I wanted to do was plunder and claim. But she needed slow, even if her body was screaming for more.

  By the time I pulled my lips from hers, my cock was throbbing. Autumn was panting, and when she opened her eyes I didn’t see a lust-induced haze, all I saw was beauty.

  Be the man I know you are.

  Fucking, fucking, Christ.

  I didn’t know who the fuck I was. I didn’t know what kind of man I could be. I’d tried once and it ended in a catastrophe of tragedy.

  What the hell had I done?

  I didn’t have time to dwell. Autumn blinked and awareness crept back in. I braced for her ire. What I should’ve done was found hurricane straps and built a bunker. She sucked in so much air it was a miracle she’d left any for me. There was a beat of silence, both of us statue-still staring at each other, then a gut-wrenching sob tore through her and her legs buckled.

  I didn’t remember moving, I didn’t know how I caught her before she fell, nor did I remember carrying her from the shower to the bed. I was on auto-pilot. All I heard was her feral cries as tears poured out of her. Christ, so many tears. A typhoon of emotions that streamed down her cheeks in a never-ending river.

  What the fuck had I done?

  Chapter 9

  I had no idea how long Declan had been holding me.

  I didn’t even remember getting out of the shower or him putting us in bed. But there we were. He was on his back, my head was resting on his chest, and his arm was around me. He was also holding me tight, anchoring me to him so I wouldn’t drift away.

  I desperately wanted to lash out. I wanted to rail against the kindness he was showing me. I didn’t want it. I didn’t deserve it. I was a horrible, disgusting person. But I was too damn tired. I’d been fighting for years. Fighting to escape, to stay alive, then to escape more.

  Escape from the pain and memories.

  Nothing fucking worked.

  Not a damn thing.

  Until that kiss.

  Now I felt broken in a new way. Old and new clashed together in a maelstrom of feelings.

  Fuck Declan.

  God, what was wrong with me?

  I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to block out the pain. The anger, regret, guilt. I’d made a mess of my life.

  Declan’s hand captured mine and he pulled it across his torso and pressed my palm under his heart.

  Over his tattoo.

  Fresh tears leaked from the corner of my clenched eyelids. The battle was lost, I couldn’t hold it inside.

  “Took something from you.” Declan’s rough voice hit my ears. The throaty timbre made me shiver. “And as I was taking, you were still giving me what I needed.”

  I had?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  God, was that my voice? I sounded raspy and out of breath.

  Declan cleared his throat. When he explained, I heard it, the torturous pain.

  “You know me better than anyone. You know where you can touch me and how.”

  I did know, not from trial and error. Not because I’d asked or gone on a discovery of his body but because I recognized the signs. I knew because, like him, I couldn’t tolerate gentle explorations. When we came together it was animalistic, wild, full of pent-up sexual need. So I knew how to touch him roughly, scratch and claw. Lick and bite. But never skim or rub. And in return, he didn’t pin me down, he didn’t press his chest against mine. He fucked me on my hands and knees, bent over a piece of furniture, I was on top, or he’d keep himself on his knees with my legs wrapped around him and pound into me.

  Never missionary. Never touching. Never kissing or cuddling.

  So when he’d grabbed my face and kissed me, I’d kept my arms lamely at my sides and hadn’t reached for him. But that had more to do with me not knowing what the hell to do. I’d never kissed a man before. The first one who tried I’d nearly bit through his lip. After that, it was spread far and wide—never attempt touching my mouth.

  But right then, I was touching him, and he’d placed my hand where he’d wanted it.

  What the hell?

  This was not us.

  “Why am I touching you now?”

  He didn’t answer, his hand over mine just pressed harder. His heart was thumping so violently I could feel the tremor vibrating across his chest all the way to where mine was against the right side of his body. Actually, now that I was paying attention, I felt him simply trembling all over.

  He didn’t like my hand on him. I felt his pain turn into panic.

  “Dec, honey, don’t do this.”

  “It’s not for my sister,” he weirdly stated.

  “What’s not?”

  “My ink. My Violet. My daughter. It’s her, not my sister.”

  Oh, shit.

  Oh, hell.

  I didn’t want this knowledge. I was already broken, I didn’t think I could take Declan’s pain, too. I wasn’t strong enough.

  “There was a war going on. Two local drug lords fighting over territory. I knew it. I wanted us clear of the area, but Juliana had spent months putting together Violet’s birthday party. Her family, friends, all invited. Everything set and ready. Violet’s actual birthday fell on a Saturday and Juliana wanted to celebrate that day. Local reports were light but all intel said that the fighting had slowed. So I relented. Jesus fuck, I never should’ve given in. I should’ve held firm. Never should’ve agreed to have the party at a park. Sitting ducks, everyone milling about, laughing, no one paying a bit of fucking attention to anything other than my baby girl turning one. Violet was barely walking. A coupla steps here and there. Juliana and her parents were clapping and laughing with Violet walking between them. I didn’t know why, what made me look, but I fucking felt it. I knew before it happened that my life was over.”

  Declan paused, took a stuttering breath, and I couldn’t take anymore.

  I couldn’t live with the knowledge of what came next. I couldn’t. My heart was already shattered and whatever had happened to Declan that caused his life to be over would demolish me. Whatever it was that made this big, strong, tough man tremble and shake violently—if it did that to him, it would kill me.

  “Honey,” I whispered in an effort to make him stop.

  I knew my voice wobbled, I knew it sounded weak, but I couldn’t let him continue to torture himself, to relive something so horrific that he was squeezing me to him like he wanted to absorb me yet at the same time fly out of his skin.

  “Four cars rolled into the parking lot. I yelled for Juliana. She looked up, saw the cars, gr
abbed our girl, but it was too late, shots rang out. Fucking hell, bullets mowed down everyone in their path. Juliana’s family was dropping, people were running and screaming. So goddamn loud. Never forgot the sound. By the time I made it to my wife, it was too late. I was too late. Violet was limp in her arms. Fucking blood pouring out of my baby. So many holes. Fuck! I was too late. A living death. I pulled Juliana into my arms. She was still clutching our girl even though she was gone, still trying to protect her. Until her last breath and Violet rolled and I saw. Every bullet that had hit my girl had passed through her into Juliana. Both gone. Both dead in my arms. A living fucking death.”

  His voice hitched and I was frozen, suspended in time, gripped in grief and the worst sorrow I’d ever felt. Ever. Not even when my body was being abused had I ever felt heartache so deep. So complete that it covered me in a darkness I never knew existed. Had never felt.

  Not once in my life.

  And Declan lived with that, every day.

  A living death.

  Oh, God.

  I couldn’t breathe, I didn’t know if it was because Declan’s arms were like two steel bands around me and my lungs had collapsed, or if it was from his heavy breathing. He was struggling to suck in air. I felt it. His anguish was stifling.

  I tried to roll away and his arms got tighter.

  “Honey, let me up.”

  “Can’t.”

  “Please, Dec, honey, let me up.”

  I pushed again and his arm around me fell limp onto the mattress. As fast as I could, I scrambled so I was sitting astride him, my hands resting on his chest. I’d looked down at his handsome face from this perch many times, dozens and dozens. But never had I seen him so destroyed.

  There were no words to describe the raw pain on his face.

  No words to define the pain I felt when I saw tears in his eyes.

  Oh, God.

  “Declan, look at me.”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “Dec, honey, please look at me.”

  His red-brown eyes came to mine. I inhaled at the sight. The Declan I knew wasn’t there. Not even the lethal warfighter I knew him to be.

  Gone.

  Every muscle trembled, a hard wall of agony.

  “I’m so sorry you lost them.”