The Surviving Trace

by Calia Read

  Livingston’s silence is proof that I’m right.

  “I see a different side of him now, and I want to make sure no one hurts him,” I say.

  There’s a long stretch of silence between us. The parlor window is cracked open, allowing music and raucous laughter to drift our way. Having such a serious conversation with a party only steps away seems wrong.

  “Do you love Étienne?” he says out of nowhere.

  I take a small step back. “Excuse me?”

  “Do you love Étienne?”

  If I had been asked this question weeks ago, when I first arrived, my answer would’ve been no. Two weeks ago, I would’ve smiled softly and said no and explained that Étienne is strictly a friend. Right now, I have no idea how to reply because I don’t know what I’m feeling.

  Am I attracted to Étienne? Yes.

  Is that attraction growing by the day? Yes.

  Do I genuinely care for him? Yes.

  But lust and love are easy to confuse; both override common sense and have lifelong repercussions. The idea that I could love someone from an entirely different time, someone I’ve only known for forty-three days seems absurd.

  But it’s a possibility.

  My situation grows trickier by the second. It’s a twisted ball of yarn with so many knots. I’m trying to untangle the gnarled mess, but I’m making things worse. Throwing in the feelings I’m starting to have for Étienne makes everything more convoluted and impossible to unravel.

  “I don’t know,” I reply, looking him straight in the eye.

  Livingston continues to watch me for a few more seconds before his shoulders slump ever so slightly. He sighs loudly and shakes his head. He may not believe my answer, but even he can see how convoluted the relationship between Étienne and me is. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

  “I can get back home on my own.”

  “You asked me to take you home earlier. Remember?” Livingston says.

  “Oh yeah.” But that was before Livingston caught me falling out of Asa’s office window. As we walk toward the front of the house, I glance at Livingston from the corner of my eye. “You’re not going to tell Étienne what you saw tonight, are you?”

  Livingston sighs. “I should. But I won’t.”

  “Promise me,” I say.

  We round the corner of the house, and he stops short and looks me in the eye. “My word is my bond.”

  I’ve only known him for a short period, but I know that I can trust him to keep this between the two of us. My shoulders sag in relief. “Thank you.”

  We’re silent as we get into his car and pull away from Asa’s home. Instinctively, my hands curl around the ledger.

  It’s not until we’re on the outskirts of Charleston that I realize I referred to Belgrave as home.

  EXHAUSTION GRIPS MY entire body as I step out of the car. Livingston says good night and loudly slams the door. Slowly, I walk toward the porch. Livingston is in such a hurry to get back to town that he doesn’t wait for me to get inside. Which works out for me, because I’m not taking the risk of carrying this account book inside. There’s a good chance Étienne is still up, and I don’t want him to see it. Yet.

  I intend to take my time and look through the ledger before I give it to him. I sneak around the house and stop near a cluster of neatly trimmed hedges. It’s so dark out that it’s impossible to see my hand in front of me, let alone the ledger, so I blindly toss the notebook into the bushes. There’s a rustle of branches and a resounding thump when it touches the ground. Early tomorrow morning, I’ll come outside and grab the account book before it has a chance of being discovered.

  Crickets chirp in the distance. My steps are whisper-soft as I walk through the front door. Just as I’d hoped, the entire house is silent. Most of the lights are off. But in a home continually bustling with people, the silence is almost eerie.

  I go to great lengths to quietly shut the front door and tiptoe to the staircase. Before I do, I glance in the direction of Étienne’s office. The door is open and a light is on, but there’s no movement coming from inside the room. I’m tempted to go inside and see if he’s there, but I don’t want to risk having a conversation with him. He’s too astute and would immediately know I was hiding something from him.

  I slip my shoes off and hold them with my left hand. The other hand curls around the railing. I’ve only made it up two steps before movement comes from Étienne’s office. I quicken my pace and am halfway up when I hear him behind me.

  “Where have you been, Serene?”

  I freeze and close my eyes; I was so close to the second floor. So close. I turn around. “At the party. Where else would I be?”

  Étienne casually leans against the wall. His jacket and bow tie are off. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing tan forearms. The top two buttons of his white dress shirt are unbuttoned.

  He stares at the rip on my dress. In his face, I see anger, but more than that, I see jealousy. “What happened to your dress?”

  “It ripped,” I say.

  “I can see that,” Étienne says evenly. I’ve never seen Étienne this calm. It’s completely unnerving. He moves away from the wall and takes a few steps before he stops. “But who tore it?”

  I walk down until there are two steps between us. I should have the advantage of looking down at Étienne, but he’s so tall, his gaze is even with mine.

  “I tore it,” I reply slowly. “It was an accident.”

  His gaze narrows, and I know he’s not buying a thing I’m saying. “Where were you really?”

  Avoiding his gaze, I toy with the torn material of my sleeve. “I already told you. At the party.” My gaze meets his. “Ask your brother. He’s the one who brought me home.”

  Étienne mutters a curse as he moves up a step and grabs my hand. He tightly holds it. I swallow.

  “Jealous, Étienne?” I ask softly.

  A muscle along his jaw jumps. “No. I’m certain you’re lying to me. I don’t like liars, Serene.”

  I firmly believe that lying is sometimes a necessary evil. It will eat at you, but in the end, you know you’re doing it to protect the people you care about. “Ask Livingston. He saw me at the party.”

  “And he saw how you ripped your dress?”

  I look him in the eye. “Yes.”

  Étienne holds my gaze. There’s no question he’s going to grill Livingston on what happened tonight. I just need enough time to look through the ledger again. Then I’ll give it to Étienne and confess what I was really up to tonight.

  Seconds slowly tick by, and Étienne still hasn’t let me go. “Were you with Trevor?”

  At first, I have no idea who he’s talking about, then a face pops into my mind. My eyes widen. “God. No.”

  “Then who?”

  “No one!”

  “Tell me,” he urges, his voice almost desperate.

  “I know you said you aren’t jealous, but you’re giving me mixed signals right now.” Pointedly, I glance at his hand still holding onto me.

  Étienne follows my gaze and abruptly lets me go. Cool air touches my skin, and I’m almost tempted to ask Étienne to come back to me. Almost. I’m too fascinated watching him. His hands are curled into tight fists. A muscle jumps along his jaw. There’s this wild, untamable energy about Étienne that reminds me of a caged tiger. I’d give just about anything to know what he’s thinking.

  “If I’m actin’ any certain way, it’s because of you. You did this to me.”

  “What did I do?”

  “What have you not done? The Old Serene and I had an understanding. I expected her to do the things she did and she counted on me to react the way I did. But with you…” He plants his hands on his hips. “With you, all of that is useless.”

  “Do you want me to pretend to be her?” I shout.

  “Of course not!”

  “Then what?” My temper is boiling and seconds away from exploding. It seems as if we’re running around in circles. “Étienne
, tell me what you want.”

  “I don’t want you to leave.”

  I freeze. Once his words are out, Étienne takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and rubs his temples.

  “I need to,” I say quietly.

  “Need to or have to?” he counters. “You think you belong in another time. Belong to another man. But maybe you have it all wrong. Maybe you belong here, with me.”

  I exhale loudly because everything he said, I’ve already thought. Many, many times. I just pushed them aside, but now Étienne’s forcing me to face them head on, and I don’t want to. “This conversation is over. Good night.”

  With the torn hem of my dress gathered in one hand, I hurry up the stairs.

  Étienne is hot on my heels. “Don’t walk away from me!”

  Abruptly, I turn, causing Étienne to almost collide with me. He places his right hand against the wall and curls the other around the railing as he leans into me.

  I let go of my dress and mimic his actions. With him this close, my balance wavers, but I don’t back down. “Don’t tell me what to do!”

  “I’ve been preoccupied at work. I’ve left work early. I can’t think straight and—”

  “And that’s my fault?” I cut in.

  “Who else’s would it be?”

  “If you want to blame me, then go right ahead. Does that mean you’re going to blame me for the day at the pond or when we kissed?” I counter.

  His nostrils flare at the same time his pupils dilate.

  The yelling between us may have died down, but the intensity between us hasn’t. Deeply, I inhale him. A whimper of need escapes my lips. The push and pull between us is driving me mad. I find myself leaning toward him when I know I should be backing away.

  He leans in, his lips inches from my own. He furtively glances between my eyes and lips. The longer we stay like this, the more torturous it becomes, until it takes all my willpower not to moan.

  Finally, Étienne whispers, “Have you any idea how much I want you?”

  Shivering at the sound of his voice, I shake my head. “Don’t do it.”

  I see the yearning in his eyes. One simple touch is tempting. One perfect kiss is torture. Anything after that is irreversible. I know if he kisses me, I won’t be able to stop. Something tells me he won’t be able to either.

  “You keep demanding I stop this. Why do you think I’m any stronger than you?” he says tightly.

  I think every second, every hour I’ve spent here has led up to this moment. I can feel it deep in my bones, and it scares me because everything is moving so fast and I have no control over it.

  “I’m not your wife. Don’t think for a second that I’m yours.” I can’t tell whose benefit I say it for: his or mine.

  My words just seem to make Étienne furious. “Yes, you are!” He takes a deep breath then gazes at me, the heat still in eyes. “You are.”

  His chest is heaving as though he’s run a mile. He’s not alone.

  All of a sudden, he captures my head between his hands and kisses me hungrily.

  We’ve kissed before.

  We’ve kissed every time our eyes connected. We’ve kissed when our hands join and our bodies brush against each other. We’ve kissed when we both laugh at something.

  We’ve had practice. But nothing can prepare me for this.

  I’ve always believed a good kiss should make your heart speed up, but now I see the difference between a good kiss and an unforgettable kiss. I feel my heart race, but everything around us is forgotten. It’s just the two of us.

  Instinctively, I close my eyes. My hands wrap around Étienne’s neck as our bodies align.

  With ease, his lips move over mine as he smoothly adjusts our positions until he’s half-looming over me. His tongue sweeps past my lips and glides against my own. My hands drag down the rigid muscles of his back as I try to move closer. Our hunger for each other is overwhelming. No matter what we do, it isn’t enough.

  To get Étienne out of my system, I have to get him out of his clothes. I have to touch him everywhere. Kiss the hell out of him. My hands move to the buttons of his waistcoat, and when I’m done, I jerk the hem of his shirt from his pants.

  He grabs my hands before they can go any further, and he pulls away long enough to say, “My room.”

  Wordlessly, I nod and wrap my legs around him. One of my shoes is left behind on the stairwell, but we don’t stop to pick it up or even to make sure the coast is clear. I continue to taste him as he strides toward his room. Greedily, I suck on his tongue, suggesting other sexual acts I want to do.

  A harsh groan slips from Étienne. He stumbles, and my back slams into the hallway wall, inches away from an unlit wall sconce. I tilt my head back, exposing my throat. I shiver when I feel Étienne’s lips on my skin. My body hums with appreciation as he gently sucks on my neck. His lips eventually drift back to my lips as he moves us away from the wall and toward his room.

  With one hand, he reaches behind me and turns the knob. The door creaks as it opens. He strides into the room and kicks the door shut as he walks us toward his bed. I slide down his body to stand before him. He tears my dress, exposing my bra to his hungry gaze. I’m wearing the one I had on the day I first came here. To say my black lace push-up bra is daring compared to the undergarments of this time is an understatement.

  His hands land on my sides of my stomach and slowly trace my curves. His thumbs brush against my ribs, making me jump slightly. Lightly, his fingers brush against the undersides of my breasts. I arch back, making a moan escape his lips.

  “Are you going to stare all night or can I undress?” I tease, sounding a bit breathless.

  Étienne’s heated gaze meets mine, making my smile fade. He takes a small step back. “Take off your clothes.”

  My heart pounds as I slide my hands out of the sleeves. The dress is partially torn and immediately drops around my hips. I point at him. “Your turn.”

  Like that day at the pond, he’s completely unfazed by my request and unbuttons his shirt. As he works on his pants, I shimmy my dress down my hips and let it pool around my feet.

  Taking off clothes should be the easy part. But what’s happening right now is a different kind of naked. With every touch and whisper of his breath against my skin, I feel as though my soul is being cracked open.

  Desire pools in my stomach before it slowly spreads through my body, warming my veins and making me wet between my legs.

  Leaving his pants unbuttoned, giving me a tantalizing glimpse of the muscles around his hips that disappear underneath his pants, he gestures to my bra. “I can’t figure out whether I want you to take it off or leave it on.”

  Instinctively, my fingers toy with the hook between my breasts. His eyes zero in on the movement.

  “I say off,” I reply.

  Slowly, I unhook my bra. The straps fall down my arms. I hold the material in place though, before I slowly let it slip away.

  A savage growl tears from his throat. Like an animal, he pounces. I fall back on the bed with Étienne on top of me. His tongue slides against my own, so slowly it’s erotic. I drag my fingers through his hair to hold him in place, but my attempt is futile. His lips soon descend down my body, leaving a hot trail. He stops when he reaches my breast. He cups them, gently kneading them, and the pads of his thumb repeatedly brush against my nipples until they’re hard points.

  “They fit my hands perfectly,” he says tightly.

  I arch against him; his restraint is driving me mad. As though he can read my mind, he presses my breasts closer together, my nipples inches away from his lips. He looks at me from beneath his lashes as he licks one nipple, then the other. He moves back and forth methodically. My legs scissor kick against the bed.

  Maybe later I might comment on his patience and dedication, but right now, I’m restless. My nerve endings are tingling. My skin is on fire.

  I need him. Now.

  Étienne is oblivious though. He takes his time and switches from licking t
o sucking. He starts out gently, then he begins to pull, his tongue flicking against the tip.

  Gasping, I hold him closer. Peeling one eye open, I watch him switch to the other breast. “Étienne…”

  He lifts his head. His hair is wild from my hands, his cheeks slightly red and his lips wet. I’ve never seen him more attractive. I’m the one who made him look like this. Who made him lose control.

  Cupping his face, I pull him up toward me. His arms bracket me as he looms over me. I drag my hands over his biceps, loving the feel of his sinewy muscles, then up the strong column of his neck, through his hair, and jerk him toward me.

  “Fuck me, Étienne,” I say against his lips.

  His eyes flare at my demand. He kicks off his pants, and his underwear soon follows. He rubs the head of his cock against my pussy.

  He closes his eyes. “You’re so wet.”

  Forming a coherent sentence is beyond me at this point. Right now, I want one thing and one thing only. “Now.”

  Watching Étienne lose control is an aphrodisiac. It has to be the same for him as I become wild and a bit unhinged because he licks his lower lip and rocks into me slowly. I spread my legs farther, allowing him to go a bit deeper. Étienne breathes deeply as his forehead touches mine.

  This is hardly my first time. But with Étienne it is, and that makes everything feel new and different. Almost sacred. I’m hyperaware of every thrust and the way his strong hands curl around my shoulders, holding me in place, giving him better momentum and the perfect rhythm.

  My body shakes; there’s no part of me he isn’t claiming. I feel myself pulsating around him. He hisses in a breath and slowly pulls out until only the very tip of him is inside me.

  It’s a delicious sort of torture that has me moaning his name.

  He slams into me, more powerfully than before. He grips the edge of the headboard for better balance and rolls his hips, and my toes curl.