Hurry! She mentally willed her father. Hurry!
That’s when she saw them, when her attention wasn’t claimed by food. The vapors. The shifting shadows snaking over the walls. She closed her eyes, prayed to whatever holy being was listening not to do this, not now. Not when she was so close to tasting a second of freedom.
But the vapors had other ideas.
They twisted and coiled around the chandelier, oozed down onto the table. They wove around the plates, bowls and jugs. Amalie squeezed her eyes shut. In her lap, her fingers rapped erratically on her knee. Her heel rocked, fast…faster…faster.
“Amalie…”
No! You’re not real! You’re not real!
“Amalie?”
She jumped at the sound of her father’s voice. Her eyes flew open, her heart in her throat. He was watching her, studying her. His eyes were narrowed, cold. Oh no! Did he see? Did he know?
“Sir?” Isaiah cut into whatever her father was about to say. “What did you mean three holidays a month? Do all the guards at the lab get that or just the ones that have been there the longest?”
Her father’s attention was captured. He turned away from Amalie and focused on Isaiah. Amalie exhaled, a nervous wreck. Too close.
“Miss?” Derek murmured quietly from behind her. “If you are finished, perhaps we should get your jacket?”
Amalie glanced at her father, not sure she was allowed to leave.
Distracted, Garrison waved her to go on.
Amalie didn’t wait to be told twice. She shot out of her seat and practically ran for the door. She heard Derek behind her, but she didn’t stop. She veered away from the stairway, her heart roaring loud in her ears as if every step was forbidden and she could still be stopped. Her feet ran, pumping hard. Portraits and priceless antiques zipped past in a blur. The backdoor loomed, encircled by a halo of light that glowed bright the closer she drew. So close. Her head swam. Dizzying exhilaration stole her breath. She was encased by tremors that made her fingers numb as she reached for the doorknob, twisted and then yanked.
The salty air slapped her in the face like an icy hand. It reached into her chest and squeezed her lungs. Mist dampened her clothes, tore at her hair. She greedily sucked it all in, needing it all inside her before she was dragged back to her cell. Her flats slipped as she broke away from the threshold and threw herself into the elements. Warm hands were there, grabbing her, holding her up, keeping her steady.
Panic had her tearing away and whipping around to confront the person trying to take her back. Her desperation pushed a plea to her lips.
Derek peered down at her. “Careful, miss,” he murmured quietly.
Not there to stop her, she realized. He wasn’t going to stop her. He wasn’t going to take her back inside. An avalanche of emotions took her under. Tears mingled with the drops of rain plastering strands of hair to her face, her clothes to her frail frame. She stared at the stranger that worked for her father and drowned in bafflement.
“Why?” she asked, choked. “Why did you do it?”
His gaze remained unwavering when he answered, “I’m not sure what you mean, miss.”
He knew. She knew he knew. He knew exactly what he’d done. He’d given her a gift she could never repay.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He merely shrugged out of his jacket and swung it around her shoulders. His warmth seeped into her and she realized she was shivering.
“You’ll get sick,” she said.
He shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”
Not sure what else to say, not wanting to say anything, Amalie turned away. She moved quickly, but carefully over the stone paths weaving through the gardens. There was no real direction to her escape, but it took her further and further away from the house, away from the brick walls and the watchful eyes of her father. She didn’t need to look behind her to know Derek was right behind her, keeping a far enough distance to give her privacy, but close enough to intervene if something should happen. He didn’t try making conversation, which she was thankful for.
She stopped when she realized where she was going, where her feet were taking her. She froze as every droplet of rain seeped through her skin, into her bloodstream. Her limbs trembled.
***
“We’re not supposed to be out here.” But she let him lead her through the gardens, keeping low and out of the reaches of the light spilling from every window and lamp in sight.
Laughter and music poured through the open terrace doors, pooling into the night. Amalie tried not to stare at the golden halo that seemed to surround the house. She had never been allowed to attend one of her father’s parties, but she had always longed to wear a pretty dress, get her hair done and dance with a handsome man. But she couldn’t be trusted to control herself around normal people and she was almost certain half the people laughing and drinking inside didn’t even know she existed.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at the party?” She pried her eyes away from the fun and merriment to look over at the boy clutching her hand.
He was the picture of perfection in a black suit, his dark hair swept back from his angelic face. He was gorgeous. She had seen more than one girl notice that evening. No one had seen her on the landing, crouched just out of sight. But she had watched as one beautiful girl after another arrived, draped in miles of colorful silk, their faces too flawless to be real. She had watched as they batted their lashes at Isaiah, smiling and offering him their gloved hands in greeting. He had accepted each one with a charming smile and led them into the ballroom. The perfect host. She would never admit it out loud, but it had crushed her a little more each time to see him with someone else in his arms, arms that belonged to her.
She had slunk back to her room like a coward instead of marching below and ripping each of those pretty peacocks to pieces.
“I was at the party,” he said over his shoulder. “I danced. I smiled. I made nice with all the people your father pushed under my nose. Now I want a dance with my girl.”
For an idiotic moment, she forgot to hold the hem of her nightgown aloft and her foot caught. She stumbled and was caught in his arms.
“Your girl?” The question came out in an excited whisper that brought a bright smile to his face.
His eyes glinted in the twinkling light a few yards away. “Will you be?”
It was all she could do to keep from catapulting herself into his arms. Her fingers closed in the soft material of his blazer. “But those other girls…they’re so pretty and…” Her smile faded. Her heart sank. “They’re normal, Isaiah.”
His fingers were warm through the fabric of her dress as he drew her deep into his arms. “You’re normal, Ams. And they can be as pretty as they want. They can never make my heart stop the way you do.”
Hope, bright and sparkly, leapt into her chest, pushed its way up to burst from her lips in a squeal of delirious joy. She stopped it. “But—”
His finger ghosted her lips. “No buts. Ever. There is no one that can make me look into their eyes and see the rest of my life. Only you.” He smiled when she could only stare at him through a veil of tears. “Come on.”
She didn’t utter another word until they reached the gazebo. He led them inside and wasted no time twirling her under his arms, in a way that made her heard swim with giddy delight. Her nightgown flared around her ankles and she drowned the serenade of harps, flutes and violins with her laughter. Isaiah chuckled, sweeping her into his arms.
“I don’t know how to dance!” she said, wincing sheepishly when she stepped on his glossy black shoes.
His arms tightened around her when she tried to pull away. “Then just let me hold you.”
That she could do. Leaning up on her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him. She closed her eyes and nuzzled her face into the curve of his neck. The warm night swept around them, lifting her hair, twisting her skirt around their legs.
“You’re home,” he whispered into her te
mple. “No matter what happens, you will always be home. I love you, Ams.”
He said it all the time, never went a day without telling her how much, but each time felt like the first time. Her heart skipped in her chest. She tipped her face back to peer into his face, wanting this moment to forever be embedded into her memory.
“I love you, too, Isaiah,” she whispered, voicing the words for the first time since the night in the attack.
He stopped moving all together. She was sure he even stopped breathing. He stared down into her face; his own a jagged mask of raw emotions leaping over top of each other. His fingertips were bits of hot embers ghosting the curves of her face.
“Say it again.” His voice hitched, a single husky breath.
Her cheeks darkened, but she forced herself to keep his gaze. “I love you—”
He kissed her.
She felt the sparks burn straight down to her toes as her breathing stopped. His fingers tangled in her hair, fisting and holding her to him as he parted her lips and claimed what she willingly offered. He broke away a moment later, breathing as ragged as hers.
“I’m never letting you go.”
***
Amalie tore herself out of that memory with a staggering gasp. A cold, hard fist wrapped around her gut and squeezed. She closed her eyes at the spearing pain in her chest.
***
“Amalie!” Jacket raised over his head like a makeshift umbrella, Isaiah ran through the rain towards her.
Twirling under the fresh, spring showers, Amalie laughed. “Come on, Isaiah! Come get me!”
“I’m not chasing you!” But he ran when she laughed again and bolted.
He’d dropped his jacket when she twisted around again to see. His hair was a wet cap on top of his head, plastered to his face and brow. His white shirt was wet, hugging every dip and groove of his chest and shoulders. Amalie felt something inside her stir at the sight, but she pushed it away.
“You’re getting old, Isaiah!” she called over her shoulder. “You used to be faste—”
He caught her around the middle, the impact striking her like a charging bull. She squealed as she was swept up, spun and then thrown back into the gazebo post.
Breathless from the run, dizzy from the spin, consumed by his heat now pressed into hers, Amalie was a mess of lightheadedness.
Rain soaked them, turning everything transparent, plastering everything to them so there wasn’t even material separating them. But she couldn’t focus on that, could barely think of anything but how close his lips were to hers. How large and hot his hands were on her waist. How his every sharp inhale, exhale expanded his chest to press into hers and how he was devouring her with every hungry rake of his eyes.
“What are you doing, Amalie?” his voice rumbled, thick, dark dangerous.
Water everywhere, but her mouth had turned into the Sahara Desert. She unconsciously licked the raindrops from her lips, only to have his gaze burn a path in pursuit the way a starving man would a banquet. His grip tightened at her sides, leaving imprints of his fingers embedded into her skin. His breathing rasped out in a husky groan that had her lips parting almost pleadingly.
“We’re not little kids anymore,” he growled to her mouth. “We’re too old for these games.” The predator behind his eyes gleamed as his gaze lifted and pinned her. “But you know that.” His lips drew closer, stopping a mere inch from hers. “Tell me what you’re doing.”
She could scarcely breathe in fear that this all may turn out to be a dream. “I…don’t know.”
He nipped on her bottom lip, eliciting a gasp from her. “You do. You know exactly what you do to me.”
Then, his mouth was on hers.
***
The rain spiked off her skin, stabbing her sense back to the present, reminding her of coffins, of metal basins, water seeping…seeping…
With a gasp, she jolted, whipping around as if by moving she could somehow avoid being thrown into that watery grave again. Her hands flew up to shield her head, protecting it from the drops. But it stopped. Rain was no longer falling on her. But it was still coming down in sheets all around her, soaking her feet and making them sink into moist soil. Darkness hovered over her, a shield from the elements. It took her a moment to realize the flimsy material was an umbrella in pearl gray. It took a moment longer to follow the steel rod down to the hand holding it over her.
Isaiah watched her, his blue eyes deep, intense. They were shimmering with the same memories she was fighting to stuff back into the dark recess of her brain.
“Ams…”
She braved the rain, accepting the suffocating sensation over being with him.
“Amalie!” In two strides, he caught up to her, grabbed her elbow.
His touch nearly sent her to her knees. She felt the force of it coursing through her like a stab of lightning. It took all her strength to wrench free and whirl around to snarl at him.
“Don’t touch me!”
His hand dropped down to his side. “Ams—”
“Don’t! You gave up the right to call me that a long time ago.”
The look on his face could only be described as pure anguish. She wished it made her feel better. Seeing it only made the ache in her chest worse.
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
The laugh that escaped her throat was fierce, harsh…cold. “What did you want to do, hmm? Make me happy? You broke my heart, Isaiah! I needed you and you abandoned me! I needed you…” she stuffed the heels of her hands into her eyes and rubbed until dots appeared across her vision. “You swore you would never hurt me. You swore you would never leave me. You swore…God you made so many promises and I believed you. I’m so stupid for believing you!”
“Amalie—”
She jerked back when he took a step closer. In her peripheral vision, she spotted Derek, standing a discreet distance away, watching, possibly waiting to intervene if things got carried away. But she kept her fury fixated on only one man.
“I won’t fall for you again. I won’t let you hurt me again. Stay away, Isaiah. Go back to…whatever her name was! She can have you.”
Chapter 14
Isaiah
There was no one else. There never was. He would have fallen to his knees right there and then and confessed it all, but she was running away from him. The sight of her back was so unreal, so unusual he didn’t know what to do but stand there and watch her. She had never run from him before. He wasn’t even sure his heart was still in his chest or if it was in broken tatters at his feet.
The umbrella fell out of his hand, rolling like a tumbleweed with the wind and disappearing from sight. He let it go, let himself face the elements unguarded, feeling nothing but the raging cold already claiming him from the inside.
It had been for her own good. It had been for the best! He could live with the agony every day of his life, if he thought he’d done the right thing. But he didn’t know.
His shoulder sagged. His head dropped forward until his chin nearly brushed his chest. He closed his eyes as rain plastered his clothes to his skin.
Please let me have done the right thing, he prayed. He raised his head, opened his eyes and exhaled.
A figure moved from the corner of his eye. Derek stood watching him, a thoughtful look in those stormy gray eyes. The sight of him had Isaiah’s temper boiling over.
“Shouldn’t you be watching her instead of me?”
Derek’s eyes narrowed. His lips pursed, but he walked casually back towards the house without another backwards glance.
“Asshole,” Isaiah muttered, kicking at a clump of dirt.
It was easy to blame the other guy. It was easy to think he’d maliciously gone after Amalie just to piss Isaiah off. But he hadn’t. Garrison had given him the job because he had wanted Isaiah to decide. Derek really had nothing to do with it, but Isaiah still hated him. The guy got to be where Isaiah wanted to be. He got to spend nearly every waking hour with the girl Isaiah loved. He got to touch her. G
uilty or not, Isaiah wanted to shove him off the cliff.
***
“Isaiah?”
Beside her, sprawled on the warm grass with his arms beneath his head, Isaiah hummed quietly. He kept his eyes closed, his face tilted to the warm, afternoon sun.
“If…if I’m not here anymore, will you come look for me?”
Turning his head, he squinted at her through one eye. “Where you going?”
Amalie looked down at the blade of grass twisted around her finger. She shrugged. “Nowhere. I’m just wondering.”
He went up on his elbow, shielding his eyes with his hand. “You know I would.”
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