Scorch (Virtues & Lies Book 2)

by Alexandra Silva

  My hands instinctively grab my belly—the baby inside my only worry—as my footing gives and my stumble takes my legs completely from under me.

  Shit!

  “I told you to stop, Belles,” Christopher murmurs into my ear, his arms wrapped tight around me as he holds me to his chest. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be running around anymore.”

  Twisting me to face him, he kisses my forehead with a chuckle. In the muted moonlight, I can just make out his handsome smile, and like always it does everything to me. My insides melt and my heart booms in my chest, begging for one of his searing kisses. The ones that make my world tilt and tumble and spin…

  Like he can read my thoughts, his lips press to mine with a long inhale. “You always smell so fucking good, all I want to do is eat you.”

  Sucking my lip into his mouth, he groans, the vibration making me salivate as my pussy clenches for him. I can’t get enough of him. He’s a constant need I can’t satisfy.

  Christopher makes me so greedy that I can’t help but blush at all the ways I want him to eat and taste me right now.

  His tongue licks over mine with our mixed moans and trembling breaths. And God, fuck this freedom. Forget walking around in the moonlight. “Take me home, cariño.”

  He pulls away slightly with a grin cutting his face in the most perfect way. Taking my hand, he starts to walk me back towards where Murphy’s standing a few streetlights away.

  “Hold on! My flip-flop came off!”

  With a shake of his head, Christopher turns to me, bending down to help me with it. It’s a bloody flip-flop; I don’t need him to help me put it back on. But there’s something about seeing a strong, powerful man get on his knees for you. It’s thrilling. It makes my blood pound hard and hot for him.

  He knows exactly what he’s doing too. Lifting the hem of my dress, he strokes up my calf with the back of his fingers. His tongue licks across his lips as he looks up at me with a promising smile.

  “Foot.”

  Bracing my hands on his shoulders, I steady myself as his hand smooths down my leg to my ankle, lifting my foot. He brushes away the dirt, scraping his thumbnail across the arch of it slowly.

  Jesus, I’m about to fall flat on my arse and demand that he does all the things that drive me wild right here and now. But that smile. That fucking smile. Forget all the ships that launched for Troy. Forget all the armadas and battalions. My husband has a smile that could burn heaven to ground.

  I can’t bear to look at him with how fast my heart is galloping in my chest. I need him to put my slipper on and just take me home. I want him to burn me to the ground. To destroy me.

  “Stay still.” His whisper is raspy as he slips the flip-flop onto my foot and runs his hand all the way up to the top of my thigh. His fingertips trace the line of my underwear from the front to the back until he cups my arse, his forearm snug between my thighs. His lips press to my belly as he kneads my flesh and holy crap!

  I don’t even care of who might see us. All I know is that I’m so wet and ready for him to devour me.

  My head tips back as he presses his arm completely flush to my pussy, his fingertips sinking deep into my arse cheeks.

  There’s only the sound of our heavy breaths and the thrumming of my heartbeat.

  Looking back down at Christopher, my eyes catch on the sharp glint. It takes me a moment too long to register what’s happening, and by the time I do, all I can do is push him to the ground.

  My throat burns with my scream as my legs give and I collapse in a heap on top of him. It gets far too hot and wet. And I have no idea what’s just happened but God, I feel sick. My insides feel all wrong.

  “Arabella!” Christopher keeps shouting as he lays me flat on the ground. His eyes are wide, and with every swipe of his hands on his face, black smears his beautiful skin, like oil and tar. “Murphy! Murphy!”

  Shouts and screams and yells fill my ears with my hard-pumping blood. It’s so hot. My entire body is burning. My face. My chest. My belly…

  “Christopher?”

  Why is he shouting?

  “It’s going to be okay, baby.”

  His trembling hand brushes my hair, and it’s only when the other presses to my stomach with terror rife in his eyes that I realise something’s wrong.

  It’s not tar or oil on his face. I’m not sweating.

  It’s all blood.

  My blood.

  Panic chills me, and now I understand why I’m shaking like this. I’m cold.

  I’m dying.

  “Don’t let me die.”

  “You’re not dying. You’re going to be okay.” Both of his hands cup my face, his tear-filled eyes boring into mine.

  He’s lying—I can tell from the way he sputters, unable to stop his sob. And all I can think is that it’ll be okay. So long as our baby is okay, everything will be fine.

  I can’t see much as I glance down. My red dress is stained so dark that it looks a deep wine colour in the dark of night.

  Pressing my hands to the sides of my belly, I look up at Christopher. Murphy is standing above us with his phone pressed to his ear, his mouth moving a hundred miles an hour. I can’t understand a word he’s saying.

  But the way he looks at me is enough to tell me that this is only going to end one way.

  “Pick her. Always.” I barely manage to get the words out. My mouth is so dry that I have to cough moisture back into it.

  I shudder at the metallic tang that fills my mouth.

  “Belles…”

  It’s too late.

  “Promise.”

  “Morena.”

  She’s the only thing that matters now.

  “Please. Her first.”

  “Arabella.”

  “Cariño…”

  With a low, pained sob, he nods at me. “Okay.”

  I wish it was enough to give me peace. I wish it was enough to calm my fear.

  It doesn’t.

  Chapter 10

  Arabella

  Arms close around me, hot and hard. I can’t fight their overpowering hold.

  “Look at me.”

  I’m dragging in breath after breath, but my lungs are so tight that it’s nowhere near enough to get my head together.

  “Look at me, Arabella!” Turning me in his arms, Christopher holds me tightly to his body.

  I want to push him away. To tell him to leave. But it’s impossible.

  Selfishly, I need him.

  When I look up at him, his brow furrows with a scowl so deep that it’s enough to renew my tears. The look he’s giving me is filled with so much contempt that it’s paralysing.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Swiping the debris of my meltdown aside on the vanity, he sits me on the countertop.

  He doesn’t say anything as I feel him look down on me, his hands anchored on either side of me.

  I can but breathe him in as I claw at my thighs, hoping that the pain will distract me from the fact that I am ruining everything all over again.

  One of his hands cups my face, his thumb stroking the top of my cheek so tenderly. I’d forgotten how gentle he can be. How could I forget something so good?

  “What are you doing, Arabella?” he repeats into my hair.

  I don’t know. I thought I did. I thought I knew exactly what I had to do. But the further down that path I go, the harder it is to go on without him.

  This man was my fate.

  When I look up into his eyes, his breath covers my face, and it’s the best thing I’ve felt in so long. To be this close to him…

  It doesn’t matter how loud the voice in my head is yelling at me that this is a mistake. It doesn’t matter that every one of his breaths reminds me of the promises I made when I walked away from him. None of that matters.

  All I see is him. All I feel is the need burning inside me. The heat between us.

  Grasping his jacket, I drag myself to the edge of the vanity, my legs spreading open to let him closer.


  Burying my face in his chest, I inhale every spicy tone of his scent, letting it warm through me as my hands flatten to his stomach, trailing down to the top of his trousers until they close around his belt.

  “Careful.” Warning coats every syllable as his hands close around my thighs, tracing slowly up to the top of my stockings. “It’s been so long…I won’t stop…”

  His breath hitches as I pepper his chest with kisses, my hands working his belt as quickly as I can.

  Brushing my hair over one side of my chest, he lowers his mouth to my shoulder, licking and sucking his way to my neck as he lowers one of my dress straps. Pushing it off my shoulder, he nips his way to my jaw.

  “Belles—”

  “Shhh…” Covering his mouth with one of my hands, I unbutton his trousers with the other.

  Christopher’s breaths are so fucking hard that his solid stomach grinds on my knuckles. I drag his underwear down to his thighs, and he doesn’t wait for anything as he cups my arse with one hand and pulls my thong to the side with the other. He doesn’t check whether I’m ready or not.

  The second his cock presses to my entrance, he drives inside me with one brutal thrust, pushing my breath out me as he fills me to the hilt.

  Goose bumps chill my skin as I hold on to him, fisting his shirt with my head buried in his chest. I’m lost to the sound of his guttural groans and curses as he fucks me so hard that tears pour from my eyes.

  Tightening my legs around his hips, I moan at the feel of him inside me, pain sparking at my core as he presses deeper and harder. He bottoms out inside of me in blunt strokes that make it impossible to think of anything other than the present.

  Christopher doesn’t relent. Doesn’t slow. He keeps going. Keeps fucking me until I’m shaking, and I am so full that I don’t have room for my own breaths. Until I’m so full I can’t contain myself anymore.

  I’m coming apart in his hands, and for the first time in so long, I feel whole.

  Our heavy breaths fill the room as we both remain frozen. I don’t know what to say or what to do. All I want is to stay like this forever. I wish we could.

  His hands fall to either side of me as he takes a step back. Our gazes catch and the fire in his eyes is so bright, I have no idea how I can hold his stare.

  Pulling his boxers and trousers up, he takes another step back before he picks my coat up from the floor and places it beside me on the counter.

  He doesn’t say a word as he flips on the water and wets one of the small handcloths. Turning one of my hands in his, he wipes the partially dried blood. His hands are gentle, but the scowl on his face is feral.

  The black glint of his wedding ring is mesmerising. I can’t take my eyes off it as the red light pings off it in dark sparkles. It cuts deeper than I ever thought it could. Seeing his ring makes the absence of mine weightier.

  I want them back. More than that, I want my husband back. I want our life back. I want to rewind time and do things differently.

  Protect him.

  Protect our baby.

  Protect us.

  Once he’s done with one hand, he moves to the other, biting his lip and cheek like he’s holding in everything he wants to say.

  Dropping the bloodied cloth into the sink, he steps back between my legs. His eyes trace my face intently before brushing my hair back over my shoulders.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he murmurs into my gaping mouth.

  I knew it was coming. There was no way he would think that this was it.

  Shaking my head, I slip off the counter, my body flush to his.

  “This changes nothing.” I can’t bring myself to look him in the eye. “I’m not coming back.”

  I don’t know what I expected, but as he steps around me to the sink, the laugh that rumbles from his lips chills me. It’s like a slap to the face.

  I should’ve known better. I should never have allowed this to happen.

  Turning to face him, I watch him do up his belt and fix the collar of his shirt. Pulling his tie off, he rolls it up around one of his hands before slipping it into his pocket.

  Without looking at me, he says, “Get your shit.”

  I can’t even be angry with his callousness.

  “I’m not leaving with you.”

  Grabbing another small cloth, he soaks it through, wringing it before turning to me.

  He’s got that cold look on his pinched face, and I know I need to steel myself for whatever’s coming.

  “At least make sure you clean yourself up before you let another man touch you.”

  I have no right to be hurt. But fuck me, his derision stings to the core of my soul.

  Before he walks out of the toilet, he drops the washcloth at my feet. “Better yet, don’t—that way when he touches you, you can pretend it’s me.”

  A scowl twists his face as he looks me from head to toe slowly and leaves.

  Chapter 11

  Arabella

  Two weeks go by excruciatingly slow. I keep waiting for Christopher to come to me. To bulldoze me and extract all the answers he’s seeking from me, but it doesn’t happen. I’m disappointed and relieved all at once.

  It’s obvious they know where I am. Casper keeps dropping by unannounced. It’s easy when Georgina is at work or rehearsal. I can ignore him. He’s visiting her tonight. And I can’t bring myself to lie to his face when he asks me for answers.

  I can’t fuck this up. Not again. Not after being given a chance to try and redeem my wrongs.

  Driving down wealthy London streets, my heart aches to go to Christopher. To make him see that I’m on his side. That I’m just doing what needs to be done. My duty. I won’t let him down again.

  “Your child is gone. Your husband is a liability. You had one job. One.”

  “Benedict!”

  “What, Mercia?”

  “No es su culpa.” It’s not her fault.

  My mother’s hand strokes my hair from my face. I wish she hadn’t, because now my tears are in the open, judged along with my failures.

  “Of course it is. What we fail to do is always our fault.”

  “I saved Christopher.” I did. I took the hit. I protected my king.

  His face softens for a split second before it hardens again. Leaning over the foot of my bed, he asks, “Did you?”

  Pain splices through me, as if another reminder of my emptiness is required. And as I stare at the white chequered ceiling, my tears fatten with muted howls.

  “You broke him.” Shaking his head, he steps back as if our proximity disgusts him. “You have single-handedly destroyed everything we’ve worked for. For what? Fresh air? A romantic whim?”

  Freedom.

  I want to turn away, but I can’t move. My body isn’t just sore, it’s ripped apart.

  I am destroyed.

  And alone.

  “Tell me how to fix it.”

  “This is unfixable.”

  “Please.”

  “It’s too late.”

  “No. Please. Please let me make this right.”

  I can’t live in a world where Christopher hates me. I’d rather die than see that shattered look in his eyes.

  He won’t look at me.

  He won’t talk to me.

  All he does is sit in the corner with his phone in his hand.

  I’m alone in an existence full of people.

  “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  “Todo estará bien, niña.” Everything will be fine.

  Leaning into my mother’s touch, I let her calm seep into me, but it does nothing other than make the chaos I’ve become overwhelming.

  “Benedict. Ben…don’t do it. Por favor, Amor.”

  Dad looks at her with a weak, resigned shake of his head.

  “No.” One of her hands tightly grasps mine, the other crossing herself before she tells him, “I can’t forgive you.”

  With a nod at her, he steels himself. Turning away from my mother, he focuses on me. Like I’m the most
intrinsic piece of a puzzle. The sought-after card in a game.

  “You have one chance.”

  Sitting up, I hold in the scream of pain that lances through me. My already empty stomach threatens to purge itself.

  My heart races at the prospect of making things better, even as it bleeds for the one thing I can’t fix. And still, I continue asking myself how it’s possible for numbness to find me so quickly after something so catastrophic.

  The words round my thoughts viciously.

  How can you be so numb?

  So empty?

  So selfish?

  “I’ll do anything.”

  The smile that cuts his face doesn’t meet his eyes. Instead of stepping closer, he steps farther from me.

  As he’s about to open his mouth, my mother stands abruptly. Looking down at me, she strokes my face. “Perdóname.” Forgive me.

  “Mercia, sit down.”

  Shaking her head, she collects her handbag from the foot of my bed. “I can’t stand by and watch you destroy what’s left.”

  Without looking back, she leaves. I fully expect Dad to run after her, but instead he stands tall and continues like nothing just happened.

  “Christopher’s lost.”

  We’re all lost.

  “He needs something else to fight for. A distraction from the chase he’s currently on.”

  He doesn’t have to enlighten me on what Christopher’s chasing. I’d be right beside him if I could.

  “He’s going to get himself and others killed. If not by the men they’re hunting, then by the rules we’re governed by, Arabella. Do you understand?”

  “I won’t stop him. Not when it’s all I want too. Do you understand that? Do you understand that your granddaughter was murdered before she even had a chance to live? Do you understand that I want their blood and their heads?”

  The numbness is overtaken by anger and grief. Hate overwhelms me, and my tears and sobs suffocate me.

  I can’t breathe with how desperate I am to get up from this bed and do something.