Serenity's Key

by Charlotte E Hart

  “Where are you, my love, hmm?” he said aloud, waiting for a response as he braced himself over the granite balustrade and gazed at the lake.

  Nothing. Hmm. The old broken pieces of decaying stone crumbled and crunched beneath his feet as he let go of the rail and walked towards the steps down to the boat house. Perhaps she was there. There was nowhere else she could be, short of the stables or walking the grounds again. Birds squawked as he pushed past the old walls, disturbing them from their nightly slumber as they flew into the night sky. He cared not. His only interest was the whereabouts of his lovely little slut, who was becoming more fuckable by the second as he struggled to find her amidst the tumbledown ruins.

  He opened the old, concealed door at the bottom of the steps to find the more modern version hiding behind it, still securely locked. Hmm. A sudden splashing enlightened him to the fact that she may well be on the other side, regardless of locked openings. He reached for the key that was hidden in a small pot inside the old vines and opened the door. Again, nothing moved other than the light rocking of his black boat. The moon glinted off its polished surface, reflecting in the water alongside it as it gleamed back at him. Toys indeed. He smiled and ran his fingers over its bow, allowing its smooth surface to remind him of nightly runs to Eden when he kept the vessel further inland, which immediately reminded him of filth and all that he associated with that word. Hmm. He should go. They both should go, soon. It would alleviate this need to be fatherly. Although, the dungeon here would be just as pleasurable—not that he’d put anything in it other than the old dilapidated racking machine that had been in residence when he arrived. Some throwback from a war fought long ago.

  “Are you here to rescue me?” her voice said suddenly from the shadows.

  “That is a highly debatable theory, my love,” he replied, searching the area for her and grinning at the thought. Rescue? It was more likely the other way around if truth be told.

  “Well, are you coming in then? I could drown, you know. It’s rather deep. I could need the kiss of life.” She was swimming? At this hour? He walked along the side of the boat as he listened for splashing, just managing to avoid slipping as the ground powdered beneath his feet a little.

  “You are quite mad to swim in water you do not know,” he said, kicking something out of his way.

  “It’s water. How well can I not know it?”

  Hmm. He supposed that was acceptable to some degree, so focused his eyes on the lake a little more, trying to find her form within the expanse of moonlit glass-like liquid.

  “Come in, you big wuss. Are you afraid of sharks?” There was a small splash, causing the water to ripple in his direction and give him a hint to her location. “Or is it me you’re still afraid of? I thought we’d got past that by now.”

  He was very much afraid of her, more than she could possibly imagine, certainly with his daughter upstairs to compound things further. He was afraid of her hold on him, afraid of her venom should she choose to employ it, but more than anything, which scared him more by the day, he was afraid of her leaving him and causing this version of a fairytale to end. Of her realising he was not as worthy as she believed he was.

  “Your teeth do have quite the bite, my love,” he called back quietly, slipping his shirt from his shoulders and dragging his trousers down. Why he was entertaining such a ridiculous idea was mystifying. She chuckled, splashing the water again and pushing more small waves in his direction.

  “Do you use the boat? Or is it rotting like the rest of the place?”

  “The boat is very much capable,” he replied, silently sliding himself into the water and feeling his cock shrivel up the instant he did. Swimming in March? What fool decided this was a sensible idea? His cock apparently agreed with his analysis.

  “How about that cock of yours? I’ve never fucked in water.” Bitch.

  “This all depends on your aptitudes, not mine, hmm?”

  The witch chuckled again and then went silent, so he scanned for her as he swam out into the open, chastising his idiocy as he did. The hunt was still remarkably intriguing, enough so that he felt his cock coming back to life irrespective of the cold. Nothing moved, just the occasional bird fluttering through the sky, a cloud drifting by. He found himself quite enchanted with the vision as he swam further out and turned to look at the building above them, treading the water beneath his feet. Counts and castles. Perhaps he could stay here and be happy, simply laze away his days and relax in comfort’s embrace. The errant world he had revolved within for the last however long had no place for children, certainly not for little princesses who needed protecting from such things. Thomas would be ready soon enough. He could relax then, while away the days and dally with unimportant issues, simply focus on the niceties he did not deserve in the slightest, but would take, if offered, nonetheless.

  Hands suddenly slithered at his ankles, nails dragging delicately as they did. He smiled into the air and looked down for her, seeing nothing but the water swirling around him a little. And then there was warmth, wrapping itself around his cock and pouring heat into his entire body. It reminded of the tanks at Eden instantly. He had thought it something Lilah would be capable of.

  “You drown well, my love,” he said to himself, given she was beneath the water and beginning to engage her teeth rather rashly. He chuckled, spinning his body a little to harden her task and grabbing at her head to hold her under. Once, twice, he pushed his cock into her throat as far as he dared, knowing that one shove too far and she would indeed bite the thing off. Somehow, he loved her all the more for that fact. Her head shook beneath his hands as she began struggling for air, which caused more of a grin to emerge. She would need to train harder for this endeavour. Clearly, she did not have the lungpower for such activities, somewhat surprisingly given her bellowed yells in their moments of clarity.

  After a few moments more, she did exactly what he believed she would. She bit. She pinched at his foreskin so harshly he shouted into the air, sounding somewhat like a strangled cat as he fought the need to beat her for it. Fucking bitch. He pulled her from his cock, snatching her hair out of the water and yanking her face to his. Pain radiated through his pulsing cock as he stared at her mouth as it gulped for air, only highlighting the need to bury himself so deeply inside her she’d struggle to breathe again.

  “That was not nice.”

  “Fuck off and find a nice one then,” she snapped back, widening her eyes and clacking her teeth together in his face. Hmm. A nice one he did not want, nor need. “Can you still use it?” she asked, smirking at his grasp on her hair and flicking his cock with her foot as she kept herself aloft in the water.

  “In this mood? Not without drowning you entirely.” She snorted at him, still smirking and moving herself closer to draw her tongue up his face.

  “Then we should just kiss ourselves into the fairytale. Do you think that will work?” she said, swirling her hands around and tugging her hair from his hold to back away a little. “After all, it’s all up there behind me, isn’t it?” He glanced across her head, noticing the lights bouncing off the Bougainvillea again and creating a small halo around the villa. “That’s your home, isn’t it? Did you buy it a long time ago, waiting for the right time to use it?”

  He sucked in a breath at her ability to know him better than he did himself and looked back at her, confused by how she’d managed such infiltration. “I have a job waiting in New York, Pascal.” She splashed a little, buffeting out fogged air into the night. “One I want. Tell me why I should give it up to stay here with you and Claire instead.” He raised a brow at her, paddling his own water around to stay facing her. Were they not just beginning to fuck? Where had this monstrosity of a conversation come from?

  “You came here with me. I assumed you–”

  “You assume too much,” she whispered, backing away again, suddenly serious as she gazed at him. “I came to keep Claire safe, and because I love you, not because I have agreed to stay. But that’s why you
’ve brought us here, isn’t it? To be a family.”

  He huffed out a breath at her interrogation. He had come here to keep them all safe, Ruebin and Thomas included. It was not a fairytale, regardless of the fact that he had been imagining it as one in some unreasonable manner.

  “These rainbows you continue to chase are neither here nor there. I simply–”

  “Me chasing rainbows? Oh, stop it. Be honest with yourself, and with me. We’re here, Pascal. Swimming in your lake, beneath your imagined castle. When will you admit that you are as much in need of a fairytale as every other human on the planet?”

  And then she dived beneath the water and disappeared, leaving him with nothing but the air and her words hanging there to torment him further.

  He scanned for her for a few minutes, but found nothing, and was not in the slightest bit concerned about her capabilities in the water. She would find her way out. Or perhaps she would die and he would no longer have to deal with her constant probing at his disturbed mind. Fucking woman. He should go back to fucking the irrelevant ones who stayed well outside of his much addled brain. He chose to swim back to his boat instead of searching for her any longer. Swimming in freezing lakes for debauchery’s sake was one thing, for inquisitorial purposes was quite another.

  “I thought more of you than to be so weak,” she said as he reached the dock. He looked up to find her naked on the deck, dripping with water and glaring down at him. “And I can’t believe Alexander would want such pathetic dishonesty anywhere near him.” Any sense of rationality he had snapped in that moment. Who was she to judge his relationship with his beloved? He heaved himself from the water, letting it cascade from his frame, and stood to tower over her.

  “You do not get to judge me in this regard.”

  “I do. I can judge you as I see fit. I can do whatever the fuck I want,” she spat back, flicking her hand in his face then poking him in the chest. “What will you do? Beat me? Stupid. You gave me your heart. I can feel it beating in my hands. I will judge you as often as I choose to and you will either allow me to or not. I couldn’t give a fuck.”

  He growled at her. It was all he appeared to have in response as he considered fucking her mouth until she could no longer speak. Perhaps that would work. She tilted her damn head then drew her eyes up the length of him. He was almost disgusted by her perusal.

  “Is this it? A lie? Is that all you’ve got for me? Even in this moment? You brought me all the way here, knowing what would be here to greet us, and yet you still can’t be honest about what you want?”

  “What truth do you think you need, hmm? I have already fallen at your feet more than once. Shown you my love. I am confused as to what it is that you believe you deserve from me. In fact, I am becoming entirely bored with all of this.”

  “I want you to admit you are prepared to give your all.”

  “What all?”

  “What did your mother do to make you as you are?”

  “She beat me. You know this already.” She snarled again, looking him over and then stepping into his space, almost pushing him back into the water as if the very thought of him within two foot of her was deplorable. It was.

  “No. People are beaten all the time. I was beaten on the streets. One does not turn into a psychopathic killer, sadist and submissive because of that. What other hold does she have?”

  He turned from her, instantly feeling ashamed of the information no other knew. He would not have her knowing how he felt sexual attraction for his dead mother. He certainly would not have her analysing that fact in the middle of a place he considered a sanctuary of sorts.

  “I am not having this conversation naked in my boathouse. Why must you always be naked when we discuss such things?” he mumbled, reaching to grab his clothes and trying, in vain it seemed, to put them on.

  “Because I’m free like this,” she said, ripping his trousers from his hand and launching them over the top of the boat into the lake. “As are you. Your beloved taught me that. You know, the one you beat because of me? So, tell me. Let’s get it all out there so I understand what I’m dealing with. What did she do to you?”

  “She did nothing other than that which you already know.” It had never been about what she did, only about his reaction to it. A reaction that made him feel unclean, ashamed, and confused. One that, no matter how hard he had tried over the years, continued to haunt him every time he looked at her picture, even thought about her.

  “Then what does she continue to do? Should I open the letter, find out myself?”

  He pulled in a sigh, not bothering with his clothes at all as he walked away from her towards the exit. Never had he been asked for this. Even Alexander had simply dealt out pain and allowed him some comfort within that deliverance. Lucinda, too, in her own way, although she had tried probing for the truth ineffectively. He should be ashamed, humiliated and disgraced, regardless of the many he’d counselled through the years. And now to be a father? To touch a child and be so close to their innocence? He was no father. He was ghastly, nauseating. She was correct to snarl and appear violated at his very presence. She was divine, without one deviation to mar her perfection as she announced the side of herself he had awoken. Perhaps he should rid himself of the dream before irrationality took hold further. If she asked this of him so quickly, perhaps it was time to end the chase before she ended him.

  Chapter 10

  “You ask too much.”

  He’s damn right I do. I ask everything. He brings me here, showing me his version of a fairytale, and then refuses to give me all the answers?

  I watch his perfectly formed backside leave the area and then stare back out at the lake, hands on my hips, inviting the world to try it on with me. The lights of Rome twinkle on the horizon, giving me glimpses of a life he’s asking me to live with him, and the soft lapping of the water begins to calm my mood slightly. I ask too much? I think I ask just enough, enough that I expect questions answered one way or another. I knew why we were here the moment we came up the drive. We came here so that he could show me something private. We may have come so he could keep us safe from Jon; I understand that, but he could have taken us anywhere to do that. Christ, he could have locked us all in one of his many dungeons, called the police even. I can’t stop chuckling at the thought of the police. Presumably such people are of no use in this odd world in which they all live. But this, bringing me here? This is not for safety. This is to show me what he wants, even if he doesn’t want to admit that himself yet.

  Nothing could have looked more beautiful than the house, villa, castle frankly, as we arrived. It rests on the lakeside, its slightly disintegrating frame climbing up the side of the cliff. It has tall towers, good enough for Rapunzel to hang her hair from, and endless gardens wrapping themselves around it. Formal ones, wild ones, and this, a fucking boathouse, hidden beneath the cliff’s edge, housing the most exquisite display of wealth I’ve ever seen.

  I trace my fingers over the side of the black yacht. Or is it a speedboat? I don’t know. I know nothing about boats, but it doesn’t have any sails. Does that make it a speedboat? I don’t care. It’s everything he is. It has smooth, long lines just like his own, and it’s black as night, glimmering its wickedness at me as the moon reflects off the surface. There’s only seating for a few people—cream leather resting behind a large steering wheel and lord knows how many buttons and levers. I snort, assuming one does not call it a steering wheel and considering his reaction to my clear ignorance of such things, then sigh and look towards the lake again. How do I get him to admit this before I make a decision? My job is waiting for me, and I will not play second fiddle to his worries before I give it up and play happy families with someone who refuses to give his all. I will have it all, or I will go back to New York and carry on with my life. He will always be a part of it. I know that now. There is no getting rid of this feeling inside, but perhaps, as he said, occasional meet ups and fucking are the way forward. Maybe the best thing for both of us, and fo
r Claire, is to find comfort in each other when we need it and leave it at that. Maybe that’s all he’s comfortable with.

  Italy’s warmth begins to ebb through my bones again, reminding me of how cold it was in the water as I feel my body drying off. I turn and dive back in to swim for my clothes, which are around the corner. I don’t know why I crept in in the first place really. I’d just been ambling through the gardens, searching for other things of interest, when I came across the lake. Its silky surface was so inviting as it lapped at my toes that I peeled my clothes off and waded in without thought. It wasn’t until I heard his footsteps coming down the steps that I realised how long I’d been out here swimming around. I felt, still feel, cleansed in it. As if the wide open space gives no sense of time or restriction on anything, and as I turn onto my back to look up at the night sky, I can’t help but understand why he loves it here so much, even if he doesn’t know why. There’s no condemnation here. No judgement. Nothing and no one to interfere with your thoughts. It’s peaceful, just as he needs it to be. Especially now, in the dead of the night. All I can hear is the water and the trees surrounding the villa. Other than that, there’s nothing. It’s completely and utterly soul cleansing.