by James, Gemma
“When did you talk to Nik? Do you guys know each other?”
He took a long drink of his beer before answering. “We talked at the hospital.”
The idea of Jax getting close to her bothered me, but I couldn’t say why. Maybe because I still thought of her as mine, even though Lyle the-fucking-sheriff Lewis had made it a point to tell me they were engaged to be married in a few weeks.
“What’d you talk about?”
“You, mostly. She was pissed you wouldn’t see her.”
Shame fissured me. I hadn’t wanted her to see me like that. I still didn’t, but too much history existed between us to avoid seeing her forever, and refusing her visit had been a low, cowardly move.
Jax cleared his throat, the sound shattering more than just the unspoken stuff between us; it obliterated the facade. The sheriff, Nikki, and even Jax’s involvement with her—none of it mattered as much as filling in the blanks of the last eight years.
“So we met in prison?” I asked, finally tiptoeing toward the core of the matter.
He nodded. “We were cellmates. We’ve had each other’s back since the day you saved my life.”
My eyes widened. “What happened?”
Jax wouldn’t look at me. “Prison was tough on both of us. I think we should leave it in the past. What’s done is done. All that matters is I owe you my life.”
I wanted to push for an explanation, details of my time in there, but I left it for now. “How long was I in for? What was I in for?”
Jax lifted his brown eyes to mine, and his stare never wavered. “You sure you’re ready to hear this? I’m thinking your brother might be right. Losing your memory is heavy shit.”
“I didn’t take advice from Adam back then and I’m sure as hell not gonna start now. Tell me what happened.”
He drew in a breath, let it out. “You were in eight years for rape.”
What the…?
His words lingered, an echo that wouldn’t stop bouncing between my ears. “There’s…no. I couldn’t have done it. That’s just…”
“You didn’t do it.”
He sounded so matter-of-fact. I narrowed my brows, gripping the table to keep from springing to my feet. “How do you know? You said we met in there. Everyone in prison says they’re innocent.”
“Trust me. I know. You don’t have an iota of rapist gene in you. Well, you didn’t until she had you locked up for it. Her accusation tore your life apart. Dude, I’m being straight with you about this. You’ve done some fucked up shit, but you didn’t do that.”
“Who accused me?”
He took another draw from his beer, and the ensuing silence made me want to scream at him to spit it out.
“I’m not sure we should get into that shitstorm yet. Maybe you should give it some time. Wait for the memories to resurface on their own.”
“Who was it, Jax?”
He lowered his head with a sigh, as if he regretted the words before he said them. “Alex De Luca.”
I pushed back from the table so suddenly, the chair toppled over in my haste to get away. But there was no getting away from this. I might not remember the last eight years, but I remembered her. I recalled the delicate features of her face—high cheekbones, a kissable mouth I still ached to taste, and the sensual tones of her voice. Her image burned in my brain, as if I’d seen her just yesterday, and in a way, I had. My last memory of Alex wasn’t from eight years ago; it was from a few weeks ago.
Turning my back to Jax, I propped my good arm against the counter and hung my head. Closed my eyes. Focused so intently, I gave myself a headache that rivaled the throb in my shoulder.
Nothing.
Just an empty vault where eight years of memories should reside. No matter what Jax said, I doubted my innocence. I couldn’t believe I’d force myself on her, but she was…she’d been underage, and I wanted her with an uncontrollable urge so sharp, it sliced me up every time I got within ten feet of her.
I held that secret close. No one knew, except for maybe Alex herself. I gave a slight jerk of my head. I still hadn’t reconciled the shift in time. Then. Now. It confused the heck out of me.
“You okay?” Jax asked.
I clenched my jaw. “Yeah.”
She had to have known how I felt, especially considering the way we’d gravitated toward each other, orbiting with a forbidden vibe. How we’d pounced on every chance to banter and tease. Those intense glances she’d sent my way were too familiar. They’d imparted the same need I’d kept hidden since the day I noticed her as more than a child…more than the kid sister of my best friend.
No. Impossible. I wouldn’t have done that, no matter how much I’d wanted to.
“You don’t seem okay.”
Was I okay? I had no fucking clue. I turned around. “What kind of ‘fucked up shit’ did I do?”
Jax hesitated, only for a moment, but it was long enough to make me squirm. “Maybe you should take a peek in the cellar.”
“What the fuck does that have to do with any of this?”
He rose, scooting the chair back in a grating manner, and chugged the rest of his beer. He glanced at mine, still untouched on the table, and lifted a brow. But he didn’t say anything about my aversion to drinking the day away. “Come see for yourself.”
It felt odd to follow someone else in Dad’s cabin, but I didn’t complain as he led the way to the cellar door. He pulled it open and switched on the light. We descended the stairs, and upon first sight of a cage that closely resembled a prison cell, my mouth dropped open.
“What the hell is that?”
“That’s where you kept Alex after we kidnapped her.”
“We what?”
“Dude, she ruined your career and your reputation. One little lie from a De Luca and your life went up in smoke. Losing your dad was the final hit. I don’t blame you for wanting revenge.”
He continued speaking, but I couldn’t hear the words through the blaring noise in my ears, the throbbing pain at my temples. My attention cut to the cage again. Had I built it? It was sturdy, the sort of prison that wouldn’t be easy to escape from, and I didn’t miss the hook in the ceiling or the cuffs dangling from it. What the fuck had I done? Who had I become?
A feeling I couldn’t pin down fell upon my chest, making it difficult to breathe, and the fantasies I’d ignored since early adolescence surfaced. Those cuffs, the ability to lock away another human being…a sexy, vulnerable woman…I squeezed my free hand into a fist as my dick hardened. Fuck me and my deviant thoughts.
Just fantasies.
They didn’t mean anything, and they sure as fuck didn’t mean I’d lost my damn mind by acting on them. I stumbled back, gripped my head, and told myself to breathe. “I wouldn’t have done this.” My voice sounded far away, as if filtering through the hollow of a tunnel. Someone else’s voice. Someone else’s life.
Someone else did this.
“I’m sorry, man. This was what I was afraid of. I shouldn’t have brought you down here.”
With morbid curiosity, my eyes veered to the cage again, and one glaring detail finally punched me in the face. A locked up prison cell, but no prisoner cowering inside. If I’d kidnapped her…then where the fuck was she?
7. DEPLETED
Alex
The fall from euphoria was like hurtling through the air without a parachute. Hitting bottom hurt worse than anything. I remembered everything. How deliriously I’d wanted him, how strong our connection was during those hours when only an infinite amount of pleasure existed. Sorrow, grief, guilt…none of it had burdened me.
I didn’t have to open my eyes to know the warm body against mine, clutching me possessively, was Zach’s and not Rafe’s. His hangover stench attacked my sense of smell. With a deep groan, I leaned over the side of the bed and vomited every last memory onto the hardwood, purged it all from my system. But my system refused to stop spiraling into the depths of horror.
I’d sucked his cock. Willingly, wantonly. Like th
e whore he always accused me of being. Somehow, in the confusion of my fucked up mind, I’d thought he was Rafe. How was that even possible?
“What did you give me?” I asked, my voice raspy from deep sleep. After we’d fucked half the night away and the restless energy in my veins subsided, I’d conked out like the dead.
“Just a little ecstasy.”
I shook my head, untangling from his hold. “I’ve tried E before. That was…something else.”
“That was the purest shit you’ll ever come across.” He rolled me until we lay face to face. “Plus I gave it to you anally. I knew it would open you up.” He slid a hand down my hip, around my upper leg, and burrowed between my clenched thighs.
I shrank from his touch, and his eyes darkened. His hand inched higher while he tangled his other in my hair, yanking until my eyes watered.
“Let me go.”
His hairy leg slid between mine, giving him enough room to shove his fingers in me. “You’re gonna get wet for me, Lex.”
I closed my eyes, clicked my teeth together, and tried to tune out his heavy breathing, but I couldn’t ignore his touch. He spread me wide, thrust deep, pulled out, brushed my clit, and repeated the process over and over at an unyielding pace. A subtle pressure built in my core, increasing with the slide of his fingers. I drew blood from my lip to keep from rocking my hips.
Oh God. Why? Where had my armor of apathy gone?
He leaned forward, his lips expelling rapid breaths into my ear, and whispered, “Welcome back.” Withdrawing his hand from my pussy, he forced his fingers into my mouth. “Taste that. That’s want. That’s need.”
I chomped down hard. As he jerked away, trying to save himself from another vicious bite, I scrambled in the opposite direction and crashed to the floor. “I hate you!”
“Last night, you said you loved me.”
“You drugged me!”
“No, I freed your mind and worked past all the shit you carry around with you. You think it’s wrong for us to be together?” He propped himself up on his elbows and glared down at me from the edge of the mattress. “Last night, you didn’t feel that way.” He reached out and ran his thumb across my trembling lips. “And you weren’t thinking of him, were you?”
Rafe. It was Rafe. I wouldn’t have done that with Zach. Only Rafe. I blinked rapidly and pushed away, ass sliding across the floor in desperation. My spine hit a wall. The corner beckoned me, offering the illusion of safety, of escape. I huddled there, arms snaking around my knees as memories from the night before hit me with full force.
For a few hours, Rafe had been alive. In my arms, in my hands, in my mouth. Alive. Warm. Mine. I pulled in a breath, tried to force it deep into my lungs, and panicked when I couldn’t. Tears blurred my vision, grief choked my throat, and the glaring truth flooded my senses. It had all been a drug-induced illusion my psyche had used to trick me. A pitiful sound escaped, part sniffle, part sob.
Zach climbed to his feet, the tangled sheets and bedding coming with him to hang over the side, taunting me with the evidence of our wild night of sex, one in which I’d been a full participant. The observation almost made me retch again, but I swallowed the sour taste of disgust burning my throat.
“Get up,” he demanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. Once I stood on jittery legs, he herded me into the bathroom and switched on the shower. I clenched my hands into fists, eyes firmly shut as water flowed over me. The sobs wouldn’t subside. They drummed out in soft shudders I couldn’t control. If I didn’t open my eyes, if I blocked out his touch, maybe I wouldn’t totally lose it.
No, I was losing it. Pain was not a new entity, but this type of crushing anguish—the kind that made it nearly impossible to breathe, to think, too see beyond the next second, minute, hour—would make the strongest person crumble. And I wasn’t strong. Not in this moment. My thoughts jumbled, zipping through my mind so fast I couldn’t grasp any of them.
Save for one. Rafe was dead. Last night I’d lived a dream, so vivid I could still feel him against me. But I’d never feel him again. Never hear his voice, his laughter. Never breathe in the musk of his skin, feel the sweat of his brow at my breasts. Never again lose my breath to the vise of his hands around my throat. I’d give anything to get that back, even if giving up control terrified me.
Zach ran a blade up my leg, startling me. “Dry it up, Lex. You’re pissing me off.”
“I-I c-can’t.” A hiccup echoed in the stall, followed by another.
He took his time shaving my legs, and I let him. And he let me cry it out. Every atom of my body was fightless. Worthless. Eventually, he finished grooming me and tugged on my hand, urging me from the shower with a gentleness that penetrated the crazy state of my head. A towel landed around my shoulders, pulled tight in front, and he wrapped another around his waist before threading our fingers together. A hint of tenderness softened his expression as he led me into the bedroom.
“I know it feels like the end of the world,” he said, leaving me standing at the side of the bed, “but it isn’t. Things will get better. You’ll adjust.” He strolled to the dresser and withdrew clothing from the paper bags he’d brought in last night. “Get dressed.” He tossed a sundress at me.
I held up the garment by a spaghetti strap, not only taking note of the short hem, but how oddly similar it was to a dress I’d owned as a teenager. That particular dress had disappeared after some random guy had complimented my legs while wearing it. “It’s too short.”
“That’s the point. Put it on.” His mouth curved into a wicked line. “No panties. You won’t need them.”
Something about his demanding tone, along with the fact he was choosing my clothes for me, made my back straighten. “You wear it,” I said, throwing it at him, “since you like it so much.” The towel didn’t cover enough, so I grabbed the sheet from where it cascaded down the side of the mattress and tucked it around my body.
He crossed the room and stood before me, but I kept my gaze trained on my bare feet, refusing to raise my eyes to his. Anger radiated off him in palpable waves, and in my periphery, I saw his hands clench before unfurling. He yanked the sheet and pulled, rolling me with it until I fell onto the bed with my back facing him. The dress landed by my head. “Get dressed before I beat your ass.”
“I’m not your fucking puppet, Zach.”
Feet stomped across the room, and I heard a drawer open and slam shut. The ominous sound cringed through me like fingernails on a chalkboard. I curled into a protective ball, preparing for the strike of whatever he’d removed from the dresser. A belt? I stiffened as his strong hands pulled me toward him, rear end first. He inserted a finger in my ass, and I cried out, squirming to dislodge it, panicked at the thought of repeating last night. His body pressed me into the mattress as his finger flamed in my rectum.
“Hold still. Soon, you’ll fly for me.” He swept my hair back, and his mouth opened over the sensitive skin underneath my ear, hot tongue searing flesh. “You always taste so good.”
Oh God…no…
The soaring feeling from the night before trickled in, and my body felt weightless.
Oh shit…yes…
“Grmmddd…” Fuuuuck…
What was I trying to say?
“I’ll take care of you,” his deep voice said, each word pronounced in slow motion. “I can make you happy, Lex.” He withdrew his finger, and I heard the unmistakable sound of him spitting before he dipped it in again, making my insides clench in a blissful ache. “No one loves you like I do. I just wish it didn’t take this to lower your guard.”
Somewhere in my hazy brain, I knew I should feel shame at the moan that poured from me—long and continuous as his finger fucked my asshole. His palm kneaded my butt cheeks, and his other hand spread my legs, fingers reaching for my clit.
I fisted the messy bedding and groaned, my teeth clamping down on the twisted sheets. My hips bucked and tension coiled low in my belly as I impaled myself on his fingers. Again. Again. Shit…
harder.
So close. Ooooh…good God. I didn’t want this. It was wrong. So horribly detestable. A deep burn ignited in my chest, threatening to turn to me to ash. Rafe’s face pulled at the edges of my mind, compelling me to follow, to free-fall into the memory of him.
I squeezed my eyes shut and allowed the fantasy to take over. Rafe’s hands, his skin on mine, his breath in my ear. His fingers pulling at my hair. “More,” I groaned. “I need to come.”
He pulled away, and I cried out in protest, begging him not to stop. Every part of my body tensed, readying for release, needing it, and the longer he delayed, the more the ache intensified.
“Put the dress on.” He tickled my back with what felt like silk before dropping the garment on the mattress. “Then I’ll make you come.” His steps retreated, gently padding away. The creak of a door sounded. I crawled to my hands and knees, turned my head, but he was gone. How could he leave me like this? I needed him, but needing him hurt too much.
My heart pounded at an alarming rate, and the burn still simmered in my chest, a moment away from incinerating. I doused the dark thoughts and clutched the dress, slid from bed, and my body poured like fluid onto the floor. With a sigh, I lifted the silky material and pushed my head through, wondering why I’d put up such a fight. Pure sin encased my flushed body, and I rubbed the silk between thumb and forefinger, over and over again, entranced by the texture, certain I could never stop touching it. Slowly, tension ebbed from my bones, my limbs, my hands. The fire in my chest was but an ember.
The door opened, and I blinked, the silk forgotten. I gazed at him in the doorway, and his crooked smile hit me in the chest. It was so open and free. So fucking sexy. In that moment, he resembled someone else, someone who struck a cord of comfort in me. I peered through the warped glass and tried to figure out the puzzle of the man standing on the other side.
“Come here,” he demanded, holding out a hand. I moved with effortless grace, my feet gliding across the floor, and slid my palm into his. He lifted a cup to my lips, and the water that poured down my throat extinguished the fire.