Hurt (The Hurt Series, #1)

by Lydia Michaels

  He turned and cupped her face, a war raging in the deep blue depths of his eyes. “I’d never forgive myself if I crossed a line with ye.”

  “You won’t.”

  “Ye put too much trust in me, love. Ye have te stop.”

  She rose on her tippy toes and brushed her lips to his. “I don’t want to go through the rest of my life afraid of someone hurting me. I want to remember how to trust again. I trust you, Callan. Don’t talk me out of it.”

  His eyes closed and his brow pressed to hers. “The lengths I would go for ye...” His warm breath puffed across her cheek as his arms closed around her. “I want ye to be sure this is what ye want, Em’ry. Because once I have ye, I dinnae ken if I’ll ever be able to let ye go.”

  She rested her head on his chest, pressing her ear over the steady beat of his heart. “I don’t want you to let go.”

  She didn’t know where the courage came from or if she was being foolish and biting off more than she could chew, but she wanted him to hold her so tight that her mind stopped fighting. She needed his strength until she found hers.

  And despite his warnings, he’d only convinced her all the more of his good heart. His words, his poetic scribblings, other men didn’t see her the way he did. Why should they hide from such intense feelings?

  From the beginning, when he’d appeared at her place of work, she’d noticed him, noticed some indistinguishable difference in the way his mind processed the world. She’d been trapped in his orbit ever since. It was time they stopped hiding from the truth and confronted it.

  Her lips pressed to his chest. “I don’t want you to hold back with me anymore. I love you. It’s a relief to say it out loud. I’m exhausted from holding it in.”

  A sad smile crested his lips as the fingers of his hand softly teased down her cheek. “Aye, here ye are, standin’ in my house, tellin’ me ye love me. I dinnae take those words lightly, Em’ry.”

  No one said love was light. Its heavy presence in her life had weighed on her since the moment her feelings coalesced. “Me neither.”

  He tipped up her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I’ve not a lot in my life. The few things I’ve cared about most were the first to go. I’ll never assume to own ye, but I cannae stop myself from being a possessive man, not after every experience has taught me the permanence of loss. If this is truly what ye want, I need to know you understand what you’re gettin’.”

  Her heart already belonged to him. She would give him her soul if he asked. All of it.

  So when his possessive hold closed around her like a fist, a hand holding onto her with an unbreakable grip, she welcomed it. Savored every dependable inch of his strength that touched her.

  She smiled up at him, then pressing a kiss to the dark stubble of his jaw. “You keep trying to dissuade me, but all you’re doing in making me want you more.”

  “I’m serious, Em’ry—”

  “So am I, Callan. You can’t scare me away—not from you.”

  He moved out of her reach, pacing to the other side of the room, his steps agitated. His fingers forked through his dark hair. “I’ve givin’ ye more honesty than I’ve ever given anyone, but ye refuse to listen. There are ruthless, cold parts to me, Em’ry. Places ye cannae touch, places where I’m dead inside.”

  “Callan, you’re not—”

  “Listen to me,” he snapped. His head bowed, and his voice lowered. “I’ve hurt people.”

  “What people?”

  “Bad people, but people all the same.”

  Bad was a rather relative term. She thought of the little girl in the other room, the woman who took care of her. Neither of them seemed to fear him. “Give me an example.”

  His shoulders bunched and shifted. He wasn’t going to answer.

  “Children?” she asked.

  His eyes flashed. “Never.”

  “Women?”

  “No.”

  “Animals?”

  His head shook.

  So only men. “Did these men hurt other people?”

  He nodded. “They... They would have continued to hurt others.”

  A chill raced over her body. Would have. As in past tense. “Are they still alive?” she asked, her words whispered, carrying enough significance to cross the distance.

  His naked gaze drilled into hers, unshielded honesty staring back, and she had her answer before he spoke the words. “Not the truly evil ones.”

  “Uncle Callan?”

  Emery pivoted, startled by the appearance of his niece as much as his words. Uma wore a hand-sewn silk gown over her regular clothes and a pair of purple fairy wings. The picture of innocence, combined with the unblinking challenge in Callan’s eyes painted an absolute contradiction her mind couldn’t decipher. She broke eye contact, and Callan addressed the child.

  “What did ye need, my wee angel?”

  “Dinner is ready. Elspeth tol’ me te come find ye.”

  He ran a loving hand over her tangled waves, the motion so achingly paternal and protective Emery had to look away. “We’ll be right there. Go wash up.”

  Uma pranced away as if her wings might actually fly if she got the lift-off right. He turned back to her, regret pulling at the corner of his eyes.

  “I imagine you want to go home now,” he rasped. “She’ll be disappointed—”

  “Don’t blame it on her.”

  His lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ll be disappointed. But I’ll understand.”

  She didn’t know what she wanted to do. But that little girl dressed as a princess fairy made her a cake, and she intended to taste it and fuss over how delicious it was regardless of the flavor. Everything else could wait.

  Lifting her chin, she walked to the door. “I’ll go wash my hands for dinner.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Saratoga Springs, New York—America

  Present Day

  Callan kept to himself through the meal, watching Emery converse with Uma in a way that tugged at his heart. She had a natural instinct for putting anyone at ease, and Uma instantly took to her.

  He’d made a mess of things. First, losing control with her on the couch, then confessing the depth of his feelings only to push her away. He was drunk on emotion, feeling things he’d never felt and torn by the throbbing warning that love only brought pain.

  But he loved her. And the moment she confessed loving him too, he was doomed. His reanimated heart became a rushing stream, breaking through the waste that plugged him like a dam.

  Deep, gutting truths spewed from him. And as he’d rutted into her, seeking any sort of relief from the painful truth bursting out of him, he understood the intrepid danger of unguarded love. It enslaved him. Humiliated him. And it would eventually destroy him, if not her.

  But as he continued to sabotage his hard-earned privacy, she knocked down his walls and touched places in his soul that were starved for affection, desperate for love. Then he’d done the unthinkable and told her the sort of monster he was.

  He saw the moment she understood how deep his depravity reached, caught the slight recoil of her spine, and the catch of her breath. Exactly why he’d told her the truth, so she’d stay away. But here she was eating cake and laughing with his niece.

  “Callan, why have you never taken Uma te this carousel Em’ry raves about?” Elspeth asked, drawing him back into the conversation.

  He blinked. “I dinnae ken of a carousel.”

  “Of course you do. It’s in Congress Park. We have brochures for it all around the hotel.”

  Did she not hear his confession before dinner? “I never noticed.”

  Elspeth rose from the table and collected their dessert plates. “Well, we should visit it. Uma loves anything to do with horses.”

  “Not the races, Elsie.”

  Elspeth smiled. “No, not the races.”

  Emery frowned. “How come?”

  “Uncle Callan says it’s cruel te use a beautiful animal for its strength and never let it run free.�
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  Emery’s gaze drifted to his. “I suppose it is.” Her focus returned to Uma and she smiled. “You’re a very strong-willed little girl. I hope that never changes.”

  “That’s ’cause MacGregors are made of strength and will and a fuck-ton of morals that get in their ever-lovin' way.” She smiled cheekily up at him. “Is tha’ not what ye say, Uncle Callan?”

  Seeing Emery’s shock, he narrowed his eyes at Uma but had to give credit where credit was due. “Aye. Though wee angels should watch their mouths in front of company.” He messed up her hair. “Go help Elsie dry the dishes.”

  She slid off the chair and pranced to the stool in front of the sink where Elspeth stood scrubbing the plates. He looked at Emery, catching the laughter in her eyes. She wasnae supposed to find him amusing.

  “Shall I drive ye home, now?”

  Her amusement visibly died. “Sure.”

  He stood, carrying the last of the dishes to the sink and pressing a kiss to Uma’s head. “I’ll see you in the morning, angel.”

  She twisted and threw her wee arms around him. He shut his eyes as she squeezed tight, lifting her feet off the stool and hanging from him like a clinging monkey wearing fairy wings.

  “Love you, Uncle Callan.”

  “I love ye, too.” He put her back on the stool and Emery said goodnight, thanking them for a lovely dinner and seeming all too comfortable in his home. He liked it but wanted to hate it.

  When they got to her house, he hesitated, unsure if he should walk her to the door, or give her space to digest everything he’d said before dinner. He typically liked to give the house a sweep whenever he dropped her off, but that usually led to him staying longer than intended.

  “I think I’ll say goodnight then,” he said, gripping the steering wheel. Leaving would be safer.

  “I’ve thought about what you said.”

  He frowned. “You’ve hardly had time to think it over—”

  “Whatever you did, it doesn’t make you evil in my eyes, Callan. It makes you safe.”

  “You’re believin’ what ye want to hear rather than the truth.”

  “Why are you pushing me away?”

  His shoulders slowly heaved as he reined in his fraying patience. How much longer would he have to fight himself from taking everything he wanted, everything she continued to offer him?

  “Because touchin’ you makes me feel like a thief.”

  “You can’t steal what’s freely given.”

  He shut his eyes. The jigsaw edges of his past formed a crude picture of love, one where every kindness was stolen and any weakness crushed.

  Their da loved their mother so much he beat his feelings into her. Innis loved Rhys but hid it from everyone, never giving away how deeply she needed him until he was gone. Rory loved beautiful things. He loved them so much he eventually destroyed them. And Callan loved Uma so much, she hardly ever left the property—not even to visit a carousel that she’d undoubtedly adore.

  “I don’t want to leave things like this, Callan.”

  He glanced at her, trying to find the answers, but a storm raged in his heart, and he couldnae see two steps in front of him. “I dinnae ken what I want.”

  The hurt that flashed in her eyes broke him. She reached for the door handle, and he caught her arm.

  “That was a shite thing for me to say.”

  She wouldnae look at him. He loosened his hold on her, dragging his thumb over her sleeve.

  “Do you want me or not, Callan?”

  It wouldnae matter either way. She wasnae ready. “They say if you love something, you let it go.”

  She glared over her shoulder, a sheen of tears trembling in her eyes. “And if it comes back, it’s yours. Forever.” Her lashes flicked, and a tear tumbled down her cheek. “But they never say what happens to the love not let in.”

  “Do ye know?”

  Her head shook. “I suppose it suffers because true love never dies.” She glanced away then back to him. “I fell in love with you the day you fixed my buttons. Everything before then was only a crush. But when you told me to be careful and fixed my coat... I felt cherished. I spent years wanting you, wishing I had the courage to say all the things I felt. And then when you found me in that hall—”

  Her voice seized, and more tears fell. His chest tightened to the point of physical pain. “You dinnae have to—”

  “When you found me in that hall,” she forced the words out, her voice ravaged but strong. “I truly fell in love with you. I thought you were gone. I thought, let me find a phone or Marco, but deep down, as I crawled to that door, I only wanted you. And then you were there.” She sucked in a shaken breath. “And you saved me.”

  He pulled her into his arms, unable to bear her tears. “Please, dinnae cry, love.”

  She came to him, climbing onto him and clinging like a lost child suddenly found. “So you see.” She sniffled. “You can push me away and tell me not to love you, but I already do. And it’s a true love that’ll never die, no matter how many times you try to kill it. No matter what you did before I knew you. No matter what sort of man you think you are. So please stop pushing me away, because it hurts every time and I don’t know how to stop coming back to you.”

  He caught her face in his hands and pulled her to him, his lips trembling against hers. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  She kissed him, tugging at his collar and crawling inside of him with every staggered breath. “No more pulling away, Callan. I need to know you’ll be there.”

  “I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he rasped, knowing it for a fact. Even if she broke things off with him, he’d never be able to stay away. “I’m here.”

  Her mouth opened against his, tasting of tears. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too. So much.”

  They eventually made it inside, her shy glances drifting back to him as if to make sure he dinnae run. He tried to warn her off, tried to protect her, but like most women, she had a will of her own and dinnae take kindly to others tryin’ to bend it.

  They shared a cup of chamomile tea, and when her eyes grew heavy, he walked her upstairs to her room. The cat purred with enthusiasm as she reclined in bed. He drew the covers to her shoulders like he’d done a dozen times before, and tucked the plush dog by her cheek.

  She blinked up at him, all too trusting and innocent. “You don’t have to leave. You could stay. The sofa bed...” She flushed a soft pink.

  He brushed a knuckle down her cheek. “How about I surprise ye with breakfast in the mornin’?”

  She smiled. “If I’m expecting it, it’s not a surprise.”

  Then he’d surprise her with flowers. “Get some sleep, love. Be safe.” He dropped his hand and forced himself to step away.

  “Are you coming for breakfast?”

  He glanced over his shoulder, one hand on the door. “It’s a surprise.” But he knew she knew he’d be there. Trusted it. And he sort of liked that she believed in him that way.

  A short drive from Emery’s house, just outside of town and far enough removed from the tourists and natives, hid a rural stretch of land mostly consisting of boggy forests and fields cultivated for agriculture. The country roads and sporadic rental homes—many on wheels—seemed at complete odds with the picturesque town.

  He’d moved to Saratoga Springs for its low crime rate and quaint charm, wanting a safe place for Uma to grow. But even seemingly safe places had bad people. More dangerous than if they occupied the most hazardous cities. Because in safe places people often let their guards down and that was when evil men did their worst.

  He turned down a forgotten road, too far for college students to live, yet close enough for a person to visit the campus parties at night and still return home before anyone suspected where they’d been.

  Killing his headlights, he rolled to a stop on the empty dirt road and watched the blue glow of a television set flicker in the windows of the doublewide. The rental met all the requirements imposed by the author
ities—more than three hundred feet away from Emery’s grocery store, post office, home, and work, yet within the jurisdiction of the law—but still somehow too close for comfort.

  The state of New York was large enough that the bastard dinnae need to stay right on top of them, but it did make Callan’s job a little easier.

  He could have gone to the border of Canada or the city. But he decided to stay here. Why? Why not disappear as much as he could until his time to take the stand? Why risk screwing up again and damaging the well-cultivated image his family fed the media? Why risk running into a crazed Scot on a dark country road where no one would hear a scream for miles?

  Callan understood hunting. He recognized the skills needed, the patience, the grace, the ability to spot vulnerable prey.

  Wesley Blaine thought he was a lion, king of his domain and admired by all in his pride. But sometimes even a lion grew negligent, peacocking about and taking without thinking of others, drunk on its own power and blind to its surroundings. It assumed it was unbeatable, cozy in its natural habitat, picking off its usual prey until the true master of the food chain arrived. The one foreign animal that dinnae belong, but came armed to the teeth and got the final word every time.

  The lion was nothing compared to man. And for all his glory, in the end, man—the truest hunter of all—would use the lion for a rug and wipe the shite off his boots onto its back. Aye, the lion was going to die.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Saratoga Springs, New York—America

  Present day

  Emery heard the phone ringing from the shower and let it go to voicemail. After drying off, and twisting a towel around her head, she slid into her robe and listened to the message from her advocate.

  Now that Wesley Blaine had been indicted things were starting to move. She wished she had a different name for him. His name made him sound like some sort of superhero. And Wesley was too ... human. Too boy next door. Too charming. Too Princess Bride. Too ... ruined.

  He’d been accused of rape in the first degree, aggravated assault, and predatory sexual assault. All of which he’d done and pled not guilty to.