Strokes: A Dark Contemporary Reverse Harem Romance (Finding Their Muse Book 2)
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Chapter Twenty-Three
Rose
Sliding lower beneath the scalding water of my bath, I close my eyes willing the torrid thoughts to go away. Not even two glasses of wine have managed to take the edge off. Downstairs, Anton is in my kitchen cooking us both a simple meal of pasta and Bolognese sauce. It’s all I have in my cupboard given I’ve not been able to stock up, too busy getting Anton back to health whilst Erik rots in that glass cage.
“Shit!” I exclaim, my hand slamming against the water sending a cloud of bubbles up into the air. Seeing Erik trapped like that has opened up a chasm within me. It’s still gaping wide now.
I thought I knew who I was.
I thought I knew these men.
Now I’m left bobbing along the shore of uncharted emotions that have no business swirling inside me. Where the fuck is my demon when I need her?
“Rose,” Anton knocks gently on the bathroom door. “Supper’s ready.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
Getting out of the bath, I dry off and chuck on a pair of old jeans and a jumper, and rough dry my hair with a towel. A couple of minutes later I’m back in the kitchen sitting opposite a man who’s as dangerous to me as he’s ever been if Erik’s warning is anything to go by.
“I have so many questions,” I begin, not knowing which to start with.
“I’ll try to answer each one as best I can.” Anton spears a piece of pasta and begins to chew.
“When did Erik have that glass cage built?”
“He requested it the moment he was lucid enough to do so. It was put up that weekend you needed space from us.”
“I see, and Ms Hadley agrees with this?”
“Ms Hadley agrees with anything Erik suggests. She loves him.”
I make a strangled noise at that, but Anton doesn’t try to convince me further of her love.
“You said you wanted to tell me, but neither Ivan nor you did? Why?”
“You want the truth or the pretty version?”
“Always the truth, Anton,” I respond. Despite not being hungry at all, I chew on some pasta, then swallow a mouthful of water to wash away the taste. I’m sure on any other occasion I would’ve enjoyed it. Not today.
“Our reasons may be slightly different, but they amount to the same thing…”
“And?” I press, not letting him deny me this truth.
“We were afraid of losing you. It’s that simple, and that selfish.”
Back then, would I have run knowing what I do now? The answer is I don’t know for sure. I’m still here even though I feel sick to my stomach. Is that because I’ve spent more time with these men that I’ve grown attached to? That thought has my demon unfurling, snapping at me in anger. There she is.
“Now what, Rose? Are you going to leave us?” Anton asks, his gaze searching my face.
“Would that make it easier for you, Anton? To do what you crave more than anything else?”
“What do you mean?” He rests his fork on the table and waits.
“I run, and you get to chase me, capture me, lock me up. Don’t tell me I’m wrong.”
“I made a promise, Rose. I intend to keep it.”
“I don’t believe you. Deep down, I don’t even think Ivan did, yet he left anyway.”
“Rose,” he beseeches. I hold my hand up.
“Erik has warned me now too, but he did nothing to try and stop us from leaving his room. What am I missing here? Am I being played for a fool?” I ask, not really expecting an answer, but getting one anyway.
“You’re not a fool.” Anton gets up and moves around the island to stand before me. He reaches over and places a warm hand over my forearm.
“Ivan is irrevocably changed because of you. You did that. I can see that, Erik too. A few days ago, you showed me what it is to understand the colour red. No one has ever been able to do that for me. No one. You’re remarkable.”
“But…” I interrupt, knowing there must be one.
“But you’re right. There is an inevitability to our path. Ivan knows it, Erik too, it would seem. I’m sorry, Rose, for all the harm I’m going to cause.”
“And yet Ivan professed to love me but left me with you anyway.” Bitterness infects my blood and like a poison it works its way into my heart. I find my breath coming in short sharp gasps. Am I always going to be betrayed? Is this how it’s always going to be for me?
“You didn’t give him a choice. You pushed him away, Rose. Don’t think for a second that he won’t follow through on his promise. I hurt you, he’ll kill me. Brother or not.”
“Then I guess I won’t let you hurt me.” I stand abruptly, reaching for the bread knife on the middle of the table and raise it to Anton’s throat. My reaction takes us both by surprise, but even though my hand is shaking, I don’t remove the knife from his throat. Could I really do this, kill Anton?
You watched your father die, Rose, the voice inside reminds me.
It’s one thing not to act when someone is dying, quite another to slide the tip of this knife across Anton’s throat and watch the blood pour from his skin. He doesn’t move, or even try to disarm me. He just stares at me whilst I contemplate ending his life to save my own.
“Have you ever considered, Rose, that to overcome the darkness of your past, you have to face it head on?” He’s completely calm, accepting of my reaction. Why isn’t he afraid of me?
“Don’t give me some mumbo jumbo psycho bullshit so you can feel better about what you’re still planning.”
Anton barks out a laugh of his own. “Now who’s lying to themselves? Think about it, Rose. Despite the threat I pose to your sanity, you stayed. You looked into the eyes of your worst fucking nightmare and you still wanted to help me? Why is that? You’ve admitted how you’re attracted to the darkness within us… doesn’t that tell you something?”
“Enough!” I shout, pressing the knife harder into his skin.
Anton’s eyes blaze with anger. “You’re a smart woman. I saw how you looked at Erik trapped in that box. I saw you. Underneath that self-righteous indignation was a woman who was fucking turned on by it.”
“Fuck you, Anton,” I snarl, my own anger blazing again. It replaces the uncertainty, the fear of myself, of what Anton is saying.
“You can protest all you like, but have you ever stopped to wonder why it is that Roman chose you instead of your friends? You were right that he saw something in you, but it wasn’t the ability to mould you, coerce you because of your innocence. He chose you because you see the darkness in a person and instead of running from it, you run towards it. Like attracts like, does it not?”
I’m so shocked that for a moment I can’t respond. It gives Anton the opportunity he needs to disarm me. His fingers curl around my wrist and he squeezes hard enough so that I drop the knife, crying out in pain. But that doesn’t stop me from raising my free hand and slapping him around the face as hard as I possibly can.
His head snaps to the side, my hand stinging from the impact, but still he has the sense of mind to kick the knife away.
“You’re wrong.” I protest, attempting to slap him again. This time he captures my wrist before I can strike him.
“Am I?” he insists.
We’re both panting with exertion. I breathe in his exhalations as he backs me up against the counter. Inside my demon unfurls, readying for the fight. She’s always protected me, she’s never let me down.
“I helped you, and this is how you repay me? With bullshit and lies…”
He laughs sharply. “Don’t try to convince me you stayed with me out of sympathy. I know it wasn’t that. You stayed because you got to see a glimpse of the person beneath the conditioning. You’ve peeled back a layer of a man you’re drawn to and now that you’ve managed to get beneath my skin you want to delve deeper into the darkness because you fucking belong there, am I right? My darkness is your oxygen. The only way you can breathe is if I let you in. Isn’t that what you’re after? My devotion, my fuckin
g soul?”
I don’t answer him, I refuse. Anton presses his hips against my own, trapping me. I feel my body betray me as a warmth pools between my legs. Goddamn this man and his ability to get into my head.
“You saw Erik in that glass cage and you wanted to devour him with your gaze, knowing you could do so because there was a barrier between you. Without that separation, you’re on your knees and obeying his commands.”
“I get on my knees because he needs to feel in control. I can give him that, I want to. Inside that box he is in control and therefore I can look. It’s not fucking rocket science.”
“But the real point is that you trust Erik not to hurt you even when he isn’t locked away. Yet you won’t trust Ivan’s love and you certainly don’t trust me? Why?”
“Because…” I stutter, my mind whirling with answers.
“Why, Rose?” Anton presses, twirling his hips against mine. The thick rod of his cock presses against my mound, a low moan escapes my mouth.
How in the hell have we ended up here? A minute ago, I had a knife pressed against his throat, now I’m parting my legs so we can dry hump like fucking teenagers.
“Tell me why, Rose,” Anton presses, his lips sliding over the shell of my ear. My wrists are still captured between us, and my fingers curl into the material of his top.
“No.”
“I already know you’ll forgive Erik a thousand sins without even knowing who he is, and yet you can’t offer Ivan and I the same despite what we’ve shared with you. Why, Rose?” he pushes. Anton’s lips stray across my skin, leaving a trail of heat as he moves towards my mouth.
“Because he was the victim, not the perpetrator,” I say on a long escape of breath, hating Anton for drawing out that truth from my lips.
Anton steps back, a blast of cold air rushing in to fill the chasm where he once stood. I draw in a ragged breath, my fucking heart spikes at the loss. My eyes flick to the knife cast aside, but so help me, I don’t try to pick it up.
“And there we have it. For someone who wants only truth, you’re pretty fucking determined to keep hold of your own.”
“I don’t owe you anything, Anton.”
“No, you don’t, but you have no right to demand anything if you aren’t prepared to give up a piece of yourself in return.”
“I’m already giving you what you want. Ivan has his domina, you have your muse. What more can I fucking give?”
“Everything else, Rose. All of it. No fucking exceptions…”
“I can’t,” I whisper. I fucking can’t.
“No, you won’t. There’s a difference, a big difference. Perhaps you’re not who I thought you were. Perhaps you’re not strong enough.”
“Anton, you don’t get it…” I protest.
How has this conversation been upended like this, and why do I feel like I’m drowning beneath the turbulent ocean of my past and the impending storm of my future?
“Ivan might have lost Svetlana to suicide, but deep down you blame him for it. You can’t accept the same love from a man who caused the death of his wife even though he bled for her every fucking day since she left him. He’s already paid the price for losing her. She fucking died in his arms, Rose. He tortured himself for months. Cut his fucking skin and bled for her every damn day.”
“That isn’t how it is…”
“You want my devotion,” Anton continues, his anger a blazing inferno now. “You want to skirt the edge of danger because you thrive on it, but you’ll never accept me because I stole Amber’s soul, just like Roman stole yours. I’m a perpetrator, just like him, and yet despite wanting to dive into my darkness you won’t truly accept it.”
“Anton…”
“But you’ll accept Erik because you believe he’s a victim. Tell me, Rose, was Roman a victim of a fucked up past? Is that why you followed him onto that boat despite knowing he was filled with a darkness powerful enough to lure out your own?”
Anton’s mouth clamps shut in a tense line. His fingers are curled into his fists and his body is shaking with rage. He knows he’s gone too far.
The thing is, he’s right.
Every fucking word he’s said is right.
And it’s time he knows what happened on Cerulean Blue. It’s time he understands the next damn colour.
Chapter Twenty-Four
By the time we arrive at Mousehole Harbour, the sun is beginning to set along the horizon and the tide is out. I pay the driver and we get out of the car. The village is quiet, a few people are smoking cigarettes outside the local pub, but other than that we’re alone.
A sea mist dampens the already frigid air and leaves a trail of goosebumps over my skin. Anton is quiet, reflective. I guess I am too.
He’s cut through the bullshit and the protection I’ve built up and knocked it down with the cold hard truth. He’s the first man to have ever done that and I’m scared to death.
Anton’s instincts were right, Roman was a victim of abusive parents. His childhood was coloured with the black and blue marks of a vicious father and weak mother. Even as a child I’d seen the vulnerability and twisted darkness hidden beneath the warm persona he radiated to the general public. I might not have understood exactly what I’d been looking at the first time we’d met, but my inquisitive nature meant that I wanted to know more. I was drawn to it because I had seen something I’d recognised; a kindred spirit.
“Curiosity killed the cat, Rosie.”
My mother’s words linger on the sea mist and call to me over the crash of waves batting against the harbour wall. Her taunt for every time I’d been too inquisitive, the natural curiosity of a child turned into something bad, something punishable.
Wrapping my coat tightly around me, I take a deep breath and walk towards the jetty. I can already see Cerulean Blue, it’s hull broken and cracked, covered in barnacles and limpets. Dark green seaweed hangs from the bow, no longer a ghost of my past but a skeleton, the flesh long since stripped by the Cornish sea. A beautiful boat I’d once adored now reduced to the bare bones. Weathered and worn, it’s a constant reminder of the woman I am now. A hollow carcass holding on to the broken pieces she has left. The sharp sting of sea spray and the harsh blast of wind doesn’t prevent me from walking towards the battered boat. It seems apt, this squall that surrounds us.
“Rose, be careful. The jetty’s slippery,” Anton warns, as I take unsteady steps over the cobbled stone. He catches up with me, a firm hand holding onto my elbow. I don’t bother to pull away.
“Here she is,” I say, pointing to Cerulean Blue.
The wind whips up around us both, howling through the wreckage as a memory hits me like a tidal wave. I turn to Anton, and finally relive my story…
“Rosie, look at that!” Roman points towards the bow, a wide grin breaking across his handsome face. “Dolphins, Rosie! There’s dolphins!”
He laughs, the sound is so rare it’s like music to my ears. Of late, he’s been more and more withdrawn.
The only time he opens up is when we’re out here.
On Cerulean Blue, as we cut through the ocean waves, the sun beating down and the deep blue water holding us aloft, he’s happy… and so am I.
“Oh my god, Roman. Look at them, they’re racing us!” I laugh, leaning over the side so that I can get a better view. I’ve seen dolphins on the TV, at the Sea Life Centre in Newquay, and just once I saw them from a distance when I stood on the promenade along Penzance Beach. But never close up, never like this. I laugh out loud, my heart soaring.
The dolphins accompany us for a further ten miles out to sea until eventually they lose interest and swim off in another direction. We sail for another five or so miles until eventually Roman drops anchor. It’s well past midday, the afternoon sun warm on my bare shoulders. I’m wearing a pretty white summer dress with thin spaghetti straps. Though Roman hasn’t said anything, I know he appreciates it. The lingering stares on my sunkissed skin tells me he does.
It’s all I’ve ever wanted.
“I’ve brought a picnic, some wine,” he says, that beautiful smile gracing his face once again as he approaches me.
“I’m not old enough to drink, Roman,” I flirt, grabbing the bottle of red wine and the corkscrew, uncorking it like a well-trained barmaid.
“Hmm,” he responds with a cocked eyebrow. “Looks like you’ve already had plenty of practice.”
We both laugh at that as I pour two tumblers full of Chianti, handing one to Roman who sits down beside me.
“Thanks, Rosie,” he says, pulling out bread, cheese, olives, strawberries and nuts, arranging them on the deck before us. I suddenly feel very grown up as I watch him. He’s so beautiful. I watch entranced as the muscles of his strong tanned arms flex in the afternoon light. I have the sudden urge to reach over and run my fingers over his skin. I want to kiss him. So, so much.
Instead, we eat in companionable silence, relaxing as the boat rocks gently on the current. Out here, far away from the watchful eyes of my parents and the disapproving glares of the people in town we are free to be relaxed in each other’s company.
“I adore this boat. Isn’t it so freeing being out here alone like this?” I smile happily.
The red wine has already gone to my head and I’m feeling a little reckless. Standing, I look down at Roman who has to shade the sun from his eyes when he looks up at me.
“You okay, Rosie?” he asks, grinning widely.
His smile cracks open my heart.
“More than okay. But I’m a little hot,” I say, with what I hope is a sultry smile.
Without thinking about it further, I grab the hem of my dress and pull it over my head. Underneath I’m wearing my prettiest knickers and bra. A conscious decision as much as my dress had been.