by Dee Palmer
Ethan’s Fall (A Choices Novel)
Copyright © 2015 Dee Palmer
Published by Dee Palmer
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in an form, including but not limited to electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either products of the authors imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase to, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
This story is a character spin off from The Choices Trilogy BUT can be read as a standalone, obviously I’d love it if you read the other books and they would give a little background but not so much that you need them to understand this story.
This story is on the filthy side of smut and isn’t suitable for those who don’t enjoy graphic descriptions that are erotic in nature, but for those that do, enjoy ;)
Disclaimer: Although a standalone, this story does follow the time line after The Choices Trilogy so there is one small spoiler if you then went back to read the others. Having said that, I don’t, in all honestly, think it would spoil the story.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
The People who make it all happen.
Ethan’s Fall Playlist
Other Books by Author
About The Author
Never a Choice by Dee Palmer
Chapter One
For My Book World Friends…You actually mean the world to me <3
Four Years Ago
“I FUCKING HATE you!” I scream it so loud, I can feel rawness burn in my throat, but there is no sound. Not even a whimper escapes my silent body, as the sorrow I feel in my heart rips me apart.
“She’s crying. Are you sure she isn’t in any pain?” My mother’s voice sounds as pathetic as the pitiful expression on her immaculately made-up face. Like she fucking cares. She’s married to a monster, and she is just as guilty to stand by his side now as they both decide to commit me to Hell.
“Oh, Lady d’Aubeney, I can assure you she doesn’t feel a thing.” The pallid weasel of a doctor’s smile creeps across his face, as he takes the opportunity to comfort my mother with a carefully placed hand on her shoulder, fake concern crinkling his eyes.
But he is so fucking wrong because that is all I feel pain–fucking brutal pain.
“Her tears then-”
“Just a side effect of the sedation,” he interrupts, drops his contact, and walks to my side. I mentally flinch at his nearness, but my body is lifeless. I so want my mind to join it. “It’s for the best. This way we can keep her safe and more importantly keep everyone else safe too. I can’t imagine what would make a young lady with such a privileged, supportive family steal a child.” He fiddles with the clear tubing attached to my arm, but I squeeze my eyes tight, as his lies slice through me. Lies…Fucking lies and he believes them.
“Yes.” My father’s detached voice still manages to freeze my soul, despite the drugs coursing through my veins, numbing my nerves. “She has been a disappointment, but we have hope that with time she will be able to come home one day. Although given her little outburst….” He absently rubs the red marks at his neck. Tiny spots where my fingernails managed to scrape the skin before the needle ended my rage and I slumped to the floor. “We have an understanding doctor, which is why we brought her here to your private facility. I want to make myself clear. She doesn’t leave this place without my permission…yes?” His tone is resolute, as my mother dabs at her eyes that even I can see are dry.
“Of course, Lord d’Aubeney, you don’t need to concern yourself with her now. We will keep her sedated for the foreseeable future and will await your instruction. We pride ourselves on our ability to give a very special, discrete service to our clients. Trust me, your daughter, Artemis, will be quite happy here.”
“Well, you certainly won’t hear her complain.” My father’s deep chuckle turns my stomach, and I am incredulous when the doctor joins in the laughter. Yes, this is one big fucking joke.
I close my eyes once more. I don’t want to see them or hear them, and I don’t want to feel the desolation of my life now, when only two days ago was bliss. It wasn’t just happiness, it was utter ecstasy.
I can see them as clear as if they were in this sterile capsule I am lying in. A burst of vibrant colour against a clinical background of four white walls. They brim with life and are overflowing with love. Cal and our beautiful baby girl, Pip.
I turn sharply and my smile hurts as it stretches across my face when Pip squeals with a fit of giggles. Peek-a-boo, the simple game that keeps our baby girl entertained on the long car journey. Her tiny pudgy arms flail, her floppy wrists shaking her hands wildly. It’s the best game ever. I laugh out loud and turn to look at the most beautiful man on the planet. His jet black hair flops in spikes, which he absently drags out of his eyes. His jaw is all hard angles, his cheek bone high. He has thick dark brows, indecently long lashes and soft full lips but his eyes…I sigh. They’re something ethereal; dark green with hazel gold slashes in the iris that draw you in and hold you captive. I didn’t stand a chance, but I didn’t want to. My heart warms, though not from the sunlight streaming on through the front wind screen, burning up the worn plastic of the dashboard, but from the knowledge that he is mine. He loves me and our baby, and he didn’t run when I’d told him I was pregnant. I was just sixteen, though he was a little older. Twenty-one at the time and already more of a man than my father would ever be. He glances over at me and his soft lips curl into a faint smile, but his eyes don’t wrinkle with the same emotion. At the time, I thought it was tiredness from the drive I was unable to share. Concentrating on the road for eight hours with only the briefest of toilet breaks would make anyone tired and distracted.
I didn’t suspect anything, but why would I? Cal was my world; now he and Pip were my life and I trusted him everything. It was early evening when we pulled up to a pair of ostentatious wrought iron gates, which were nearing the end of their life. Flaky, rusted paint and ivy clung to the hinges, nature’s way of trying to assimilate to the structure. They juddered and strained loudly to break apart where they join and open, allowing us to roll through the gap. The drive was tree-lined, and with the fading sun, only tiny shards of sunlight peeked through casting. I now recall, ominous shadows on the ground. I put my hand on Cal’s jean clad thigh–all hard muscle with no give when I squeeze to give or get comfort I don’t remember
now.
“Hey Cal,…Are you okay? You’ve been really quiet.” I twist in my seat and unclip my belt, so I can lean a little closer to kiss his cheek. My lips absorb the warmth from his skin and the prickles from his twelve hour stubble.
“Yeah, baby, just tired.” His voice is soft, and his brows knit together in a deep frown betraying more than mere tiredness. I know this now, but I should’ve known it then. He always had the same expression when he was troubled, but he would always tell me–eventually. I just had to give him time to sort it out. I understood it was his way of protecting me; protecting us. Filtering the hard decisions so I wouldn’t worry. Where we were going to live; what we would do for money; how we would manage. All the difficult life decisions we shared, but only when he had burdened them for some time on his own. I thought this was one of those times. We pulled up to a large country house with manicured lawns and beautifully sculpted hedges. A stark contrast to the decaying entrance. This place was like a palace.
“Cal?” My tone highlighting my anxiety. What on earth are we doing here? We couldn’t afford driving lessons for me so we definitely didn’t have enough money to stay in a place like this.
“It’s okay, baby…just dropping off.” His voice catches and that really should have been a red flag. He was always so brave, not one to wear his heart on his sleeve–that was me. He would tease that I didn’t just have one emotion; I had them all most of the time. It was what he loved about me: my passion, my fire, my faith. What was there not to believe in? He had stepped up when it mattered–end of–so I trusted him with our lives.. Besides he was a part-time courier–mostly on weekends and today was Sunday. “Come in and stretch your legs–” He cracks his door open and jumps out like his seat is on fire. The car has barely stopped and he is pulling me eagerly from my seat. I giggle at his urgency.
“Cal, wait. I’m still strapped in–“I laugh and jerk back into my seat. He lets my hand go so I can release the seatbelt before he drags me once more, pulling me flush against his firm body. I catch my breath when his dark stare fixes on me. His arms circle my waist and I have to tilt my head back to keep eye contact. I shiver at the intense reaction his embrace, his glare, his body has on mine. Nearly two years to the day and it never ceases to amaze me that he chose me. He traces his finger along my jaw, softly tipping my chin higher, as he leans down to cover my lips with his. This is the best part–I could literally drown in this man’s kisses. Passionate and demanding, soft and sensual and everything in-between. Reverent today, his tongue slides along the seam of my lips, gently dipping inside, a temping dance of erotic exploration that steals my breath. He pulls back, rests his forehead against mine drawing in and letting go of a deep sigh. I do the same, my smile widening, but falters at his words.
“You know I love you, right?” He swallows thickly.
“Cal?” I can hear the uncertainty spike as my voice breaks, but just when I feel the onset of real panic, he grabs a handful of my breast and moulds it in his large palm, moaning and chuckling at the same time.
“Fucking sweetest tits in the world, babe!” He grins.
I let out a relaxing breath and slap is hand away. He’s such a jerk. I turn away from him and open the back door to get Pip out. She had started to fall asleep, but even I can smell she needs to be changed before I even put my head in the car. Stale car smell does not mask four hours in a nappy. She is all warm and floppy, moulding to my body but heavy. She turned one last month and I think she is going to be just like her dad: tall, strong and devastating beautiful. She hasn’t started walking yet but I get the feeling it’s just days away. She wriggles and drops her weighty head into the nook of my neck. I pull my rucksack onto my other shoulder and smile brightly at Cal.
“Ready,” I declare, but hesitate. “Um…are you sure it’s all right to come in? We can just have a wander in the gardens–”
“No,” Cal interrupts a little too sharply, and I feel Pip jump. I start that innate new parent jig to soothe her back down, which she does. “Sorry, but no, it’s fine. Just come in for a bit. This won’t take long.” He takes my hand and leads me up the wide stone stairs. The large black door is partway open and Cal strides inside without hesitation. He stops and turns to me when I freeze just inside the grand entranceway. There is an acrid smell that assaults my nostrils, both sterile and hostile in one offending fragrance. Cal’s face is the picture of calm. “Come on babe. It’s fine; I spoke to the owner. I told him we would’ve had a long drive and he was more than understanding, especially when I mentioned Pip. He said to go into the reception room. Look this must be the one he told me about.” He gently pulls my hand and I stumble forward, my feet following his. I glance around, taking in the dark oak paneling, and the large sweeping staircase. Despite the huge leaded window above the gallery landing over-looking the entrance, the space is surprisingly dark. I don’t like it. I haven’t been in a house this opulent since I left home…since I ran away. “I bet they have some fancy cakes or something in here.” He pulls my hand to plant a kiss on my knuckles, and I feel stupid for being so suspicious. What am I thinking? Just crazy paranoia. This is Cal. He gave up so much for me; I am obviously a little tired myself.
The room he leads me into is stunning. Intricately embroidered gold, silken drapes frame the six double height windows that span the far wall. Several sofas are scattered around the room, and imposing oil portraits hang on the vast expanse of wall. Dark colours saturate the paintings of sombre looking nobility in their finery, which aren’t helping with my general unease. But Cal was right, there is tea laid out and delicate cakes tiered on an elaborately carved antique sideboard. My tummy rumbles and my cheeks turn pink with embarrassment at the noise; it was loud.
Cal chuckles. “Here let me go change Pip, while you grab something to stop that bloody racket.” He nods toward the display that wouldn’t look out of place in a Parisian patisserie. He tries to pull Pip’s little body, but a reflex grip reaction means I have to prise her chubby hands from around my neck. I get a swirling, hollow sensation when Cal eventually lifts her from me; a loss of body heat and more. Cal leaves the room, but I don’t make for the cakes right away. Instead I walk over to the window. This really is a beautiful spot. The gardens stretch away and blend seamlessly into the open fields, which disappear into the horizon. Not another building in sight; no roads I can distinguish. Complete solitude, and very peaceful. I look down at the highly polished floor, I didn’t hear the door open but I make out his voice. I can see my reflection in the floor, it’s so shiny and I can see the colour drain from my face.
“Good evening, Artemis.” His face imperious, his jaw clenched as his cold eyes regard me. They look hard, like black granite, but I know they’re a deep blue. I know this because I have the same eyes. My father continues to slowly draw his gaze up my body, his lips thin with obvious displeasure at the picture before him. Two years and nothing has changed; the same look of distain and disappointment. No, it is more than that. It’s outright loathing. I disgust him. Well, the feeling is entirely mutual. He remains still, but I take an involuntary step back. No…just no. “I think you should take a seat. We have a great deal to sort out, and I have a dinner party to attend this evening.” His strides were full of purpose as he moves into the room. I take the opportunity to step behind the sofa as he is rounding it, and walk directly to the door. I have nothing to say to this man. I halt in my tracks as two huge men block the doorway. Each easily six foot ten and almost as wide as they are tall .Smartly dressed in stiff white trousers and liveried polo shirts, although the logo is a little too small to read without staring. Still, they make an extremely effective blockade. A small gap opens and a smaller wiry looking man passes between the two men. He is carrying a clip board and wearing a doctor’s white coat. His name tag says as much, but the clarifying occupation beneath his name stops my heart from beating and I grasp my chest at the sudden tightness.
He holds his hand out for me to take. “Good evening, Artemis, I’m Doctor Smi
th, the consultant psychiatrist. I am here to evaluate you. Would you take a seat, please?” He motions to the sofa, where my father is now sitting. I can’t move. I want to leave but I’m paralysed by fear, making it impossible for my body to move.
As calmly as I can, and still to this day, I’m impressed I managed to speak with such calm clarity.
“Thank you, Dr. Smith, but that really won’t be necessary. My partner was just dropping off a package but I am leaving now. I don’t know what my father has told you, but we are estranged and I would like to leave now.” I smile but it doesn’t reach my eyes. Sadly, he returns a similar insincere expression.
“I understand. This really won’t take long. It really is in your best interest to co-operate, Artemis. Estranged or not, you are still a minor, and I know your father and mother only have your best interests at heart.” He takes my elbow and leads me to take a seat, as I try to understand what is unfolding here. My parents both washed their hands of me two years ago, when I refused to have an abortion. Why are they here now? What could they possibly want? Where is Cal? Where is Pip? I swallow the dryness in my throat and thank the doctor when he passes me a glass of iced water. He doesn’t seem so bad. I just have to remain calm even as my heart is racing with uncertainty.
“Where is Cal? I think he should be here–” Then I look over to the door. The two men mountains still guard it but it opens and my spirits lift for a moment, but dissipate just as quickly as my mother scuttles into the room and rushes to my father’s side. She won’t make eye contact with me, she won’t make a sound, and she won’t back me up–ever. My father interrupts.
“He’s gone, Arti,” He stretches his hand as if to give me comfort, but I recoil from his touch. “We are all you have now.” If he is trying to sound remorseful, he fails miserably with the upturned cruel curve of his lips.
“No! I don’t believe you. He wouldn’t abandon us.” I try and keep my voice even, but the panic seeps in and causes my voice to crack.