Colors of Love

by Jess Dee

  Nothing. No response.

  “Goddamn you, Luke,” Seth roared. “You stupid son of a bitch—”

  Luke pivoted and took him down in one smooth sweep. It happened so quickly, Seth didn’t even realize he was on his back, on the floor, struggling to breathe until Luke shifted his knee, pressing it down on his solar plexus.

  His face was scarlet. Livid.

  With the last breath he possessed, Seth spat out at him, “You’re a spineless goddamned son of a bitch.”

  Something grazed the tip of his nose, air whizzed past his cheek, and Luke’s fist sank into the floor beside his face with an almighty thud.

  Luke roared and hit the ground again. Then again and again and again.

  Seth didn’t see it. He couldn’t, not from this angle, pinned to the ground. But he heard it. Heard the pounding as Luke’s fists connected, over and over. He heard the agony in Luke’s muffed gasps, and he felt the desperation coming off Luke in waves.

  No, he couldn’t see colors, but he felt every iota of Luke’s frustration, desperation and anguish. He lay there and waited, letting Luke hammer the floor, letting him smash the hell out of his fists, letting him roar and swear and grunt.

  He lay there forever, not moving, not speaking, as Luke’s strikes hit the carpet. One hand, the other hand. One hand, the other hand. Fast, fluid, beautiful, lethal. He lay there, immobilized under his lover’s muscled frame, blown away by the fact that Luke had finally lost his cool. Lost his temper. Lost all sense of control. Seth had known him for eight years, and in all that time Luke had never come close to this kind of meltdown.

  Luke’s skin was no longer cold. It was hot, burning. His face looked feverish, his eyes glazed with fury and hatred.

  It was that hatred, and that hatred alone that instilled fear in Seth’s pounding heart.

  Seth could handle anything life threw at him. Anything. Except Luke’s loathing.

  His chest heaved, his lungs closed, and a gasp of misery escaped his mouth.

  Luke froze. With a fist in midair, his entire body turned rigid once again. He shifted his face to look at Seth. Really look.

  It took a while, as though Luke needed to clear his vision, establish what he was seeing. And then his face crumpled and horror crept into his eyes, along with dismay. “Seth,” he moaned. “Oh, God, Seth. What have I done?”

  Chapter Ten

  Luke’s hands were everywhere, on his face, his cheeks, his nose, touching his hair, his head, stroking over his chest, his neck. Gentle, so gentle. “Where did I hurt you? Where’s it sore? Where did my blows land? God, Seth, tell me, so I can make it better.”

  “Luke—”

  Luke’s hand stilled on his cheek. “Here? Did I get you here? Are you in pain?” He traced his fingers over the bone. “It’s not broken, Seth, I swear, it’s not broken. Thank God.” His voice was laced with panic. “Where else? Here?” His hand was on his forehead now, the softest caress, almost as though Luke was afraid to touch him. “Christ, baby, there’s blood. I made you bleed. I hurt you.”

  Blood? How on earth?

  And then Seth knew.

  “Fuck, I’m sorry. So sorry.” Luke dabbed at Seth’s forehead. Was he trying to wipe the blood away? “What have I done to you?”

  “Luke—”

  “I’ll make it better. I swear.”

  “Luke!”

  “Hospital. We’ll get you to a hospital.”

  “Luke, damn it, listen to me.” Seth sat up, forcing Luke to jump out of his way.

  “You can move.” Luke’s tone was full of relief and wonder and self-loathing.

  “Of course I can move, I’m fine.”

  Luke shook his head. “No, you’re not. You’re hurt. I hurt you.”

  “No, you didn’t. Look.” Seth grasped Luke’s forearm and lifted it in the air. “I’m not hurt, Lucas. You are.” A lump formed in Seth’s throat. Luke’s hands were bloodied and raw. Skin peeled off his fingers, and large scrapes—carpet burns—turned the uncut skin purple. “I’m fine, Lucas,” Seth soothed. “It’s you who’s bleeding.”

  Luke fell back on his haunches and stared at his hands. Just stared. For a very long time.

  Seth scrambled to his feet, raced to the bathroom and found two facecloths, which he drenched in cold water. Squeezing the excess from them, he raced back to Luke, dropped on his knees in front of him, and ever so lightly wrapped one hand in a cloth.

  “I hurt you.” Luke’s expression was a study in agony and regret.

  “No, you didn’t. You hurt yourself.” Seth wiped away the blood on Luke’s other hand, careful with the bruised skin.

  “I tried to hurt you. I meant to hurt you.”

  “You could never hurt me.” Tenderly, he wrapped the hand. “I know you, Lucas, and I know you could never hurt me.”

  “I can, Seth. I almost did.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “It’s why I can’t love you.”

  Seth didn’t look up, he kept his gaze firmly on Luke’s hands. “What is?”

  “This. Me. I hurt people.”

  “You didn’t hurt me, Luke.”

  “I love you, Seth, and I tried to hurt you.”

  “No, you didn’t.” Seth didn’t react to Luke’s admission, didn’t dare. “You may have wanted to, but you didn’t.”

  “I hurt him.”

  “You hurt who?”

  “My father.”

  “Your father?”

  “I almost killed him.”

  Oh, fuck. Jesus. “When?”

  “Long time ago.”

  “What happened?”

  “He hit my mother. Again.”

  Seth’s heart twisted. “Again?”

  “He hit her a lot.”

  “Did he hurt her?”

  “Always.” Like his hands, Luke’s voice was raw.

  “Badly?”

  “Sometimes he broke bones. Sometimes he just left bruises. A few times she ended up in the hospital.”

  Christ. “What about you, Lucas? Did he hit you?”

  “Sometimes.”

  No. No, no, no. “Did he hurt you? Did he leave bruises and break bones?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Did you end up in the hospital?”

  “Only once.”

  Seth couldn’t speak. Not for a very long time. He could only sit there, speechless, his heart aching for the man in front of him.

  “I’m just like him.”

  “You. Are. Nothing. Like. Him.”

  Luke nodded. “I use my fists, just like him.”

  “You protected your mother from a violent attack.”

  “I left him on the floor, with three broken ribs, a broken nose, a snapped knee joint and a dislocated shoulder. And I wouldn’t have stopped. I would have carried on hitting him, only…”

  “Only?”

  “Only my mom begged me to back off. Begged me to leave him alone. ‘Don’t act like him, Luke. Don’t become your father. Don’t do this, please.’” He stared at Seth, but Seth had a feeling Luke only saw his mother. And perhaps his father, lying beaten on the floor. “I stopped, because she asked me to. But I am like him. I’m exactly like him. I proved it that day, and I proved it again today.”

  “Lucas…” Oh, God. Never mind Luke’s hands, Seth’s heart was bleeding, breaking for the man he loved, the man lost in his past. “What was going through your head when you hit your father?”

  “Just that I needed to stop him hurting my mother. Needed to stop the beatings and the abuse.”

  “And what was going through your head now, when you did this to yourself?” He held Luke’s hands up.

  “Just that I needed you to stop talking, stop pushing me, stop pressing me for answers.” He looked so bleak, Seth’s heart broke all over again. “It’s how I work. When I feel desperate. When I want something to stop. I use my fists. I stop it physically.”

  “You ever hit anyone else?”

  Luke shook his head.

  “So i
t was just your dad?”

  “And you.”

  “You never hit me.” Seth didn’t think Luke heard him.

  “The social worker called it the cycle of abuse.”

  “Social worker?”

  “The one who took me and my mom to a safe house. She told me I was a victim of the cycle. I’d been abused, learned the behavior and then grown up to become the abuser myself. She said there was…” His voice cracked. “No saving me.”

  Had the social worker in question been standing there now, Seth would have throttled her himself. Shown her, one on one, what violence was really about. “You didn’t abuse anyone. You protected your mother. And yourself.”

  “I attacked you.”

  “You didn’t.”

  Luke held up his wrapped fists. “Then what the fuck do you call this?”

  “A moment of weakness and frustration. A means of expressing yourself, getting rid of your anger.”

  “I fucking attacked you, Seth.”

  “No. You hit the carpet. At no time did I ever feel threatened by you. Ever.”

  “I crouched above you, slamming my fists wherever I could.”

  “You deliberately missed me with every punch you threw. Refused to let yourself touch me. You may have slammed your fists into something, but it wasn’t me. Because you are not your father. You do not hurt the people you love. No matter what the social worker told you.”

  “I wanted to hurt you.”

  “I wanted to hurt you too. Only I didn’t hold back. I shoved you and I yelled at you and I pushed you to the edge.”

  “I threw you to the floor. I used my kung fu skills to take you down.”

  “You may have taken me down, but it was not an attack. Not on me.”

  “I love you, Seth. God help me, I know I shouldn’t, but I do.”

  “You should love me. It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for the last eight years.”

  “And this is what I’ve been trying to hide from you for eight years. My anger, my violence. My propensity to hurt the people I love.”

  “You’re not violent. You hurt the people—the person—who hurt someone you love.”

  “I love you, Seth. The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you.”

  “The only way you can hurt me is by turning your back on me. That’ll hurt, Luke. That’ll hurt more than your fists ever could.”

  Luke gave a hollow laugh. “What if I lash out again? What if I can’t control myself next time? And don’t kid yourself that everything will be fine. There will be a next time.”

  “I don’t think you controlled yourself this time. I think you just moved on instinct, and your instinct is to do no harm.”

  “Open your eyes.” Luke pursed his lips and grimaced. “I didn’t just harm my father. I deliberately attacked him. I planned the attack—for years.”

  “Because you went against your instinct. After all he’d done to you and your mother, you’d had enough. You had to stop it. And you did.”

  “I don’t trust myself with you.”

  “I trust you with my life.”

  Luke dropped his head into his hands, seemingly unaware of the wet cloths wrapped around them. “You are my life,” he whispered hoarsely.

  “Then stop pushing me away.”

  He looked at Seth. “I don’t want to push you away. Deep down, I never have. I want you by my side always. But there’s this part of me that needs to protect you, and as far as I’m concerned, the person you need protection from the most is me.”

  Seth shook his head fiercely. “I don’t need protection from you. You haven’t hurt me yet, and you won’t hurt me in the future. Two things will ensure that. Firstly, you’re not violent at heart. It’s not in your nature. And secondly, you’re too well trained to ever lose control that way. Too disciplined by your kung fu to ever strike out with the intention to harm—unless someone you care about is in danger.”

  Seth was under no false illusion as to how important Luke’s kung fu was to him. He’d watched him train. Seen how many hours he spent each day honing his art.

  “I joined the school to learn how to fight, Seth. To learn how to defend myself. I joined so that one day, when I’d learned enough, I’d be able to protect myself and my mother from my father.”

  “See? That just reinforces my point. It’s not in your nature to attack instinctively. You had to learn the art. And along with learning the art of fighting, you learned the art of control. And that you never let go of, not even in the heat of the moment.”

  Seth took a deep breath, and then tried to put in words what he knew in his heart. “Lucas, stand back for just a moment and look at yourself. Look at who you were and who you are now. Look at what you’ve done and what you’ve achieved, and tell me if you’re leading the life of a man who damages what he loves.”

  Luke breathed softly. “I don’t damage what I love because I keep it at a distance.”

  “You love Zachary. He’s your best friend. You’ve never kept him at a distance and you’ve never hurt him. What about your mother?”

  Luke eyed him warily. “What about her?”

  “Do you love her?”

  “Of course.” He sighed. “But it’s a complicated relationship. That love’s mixed up with so many other emotions. Pity, anger, frustration, guilt, shame.”

  “Whatever emotion you feel for her, have you ever hurt her?”

  “Christ, no.”

  “What about Nath and the rest of Speed? You love them all. You’ve put your heart, your life into the band. And you’ve never once hurt any of them. Quite the opposite. If anyone has a problem, they come to you. You sort it out. Because that’s what you do. You help the people you love.”

  “It’s my job to help the band.”

  “But that’s not why you do it. That’s not why you sent Nath back to Sydney to find Sophie, for example. You sent him back ’cause Nathan was hurting, and you couldn’t bear to see him in so much pain.”

  “I sent him back because he fucked up the concert and put Speed’s professional reputation in jeopardy.”

  “So caring for him and ensuring his happiness had nothing to do with it?”

  “Maybe.” Luke shrugged.

  Seth saw straight through his studied nonchalance. Luke’s affection for Nathan had everything to do with it. “Damn it, Lucas, you’re looking at this all wrong. You’ve convinced yourself that love makes you weak. That when you love someone, you hurt them. But you don’t. You only hurt them when you don’t let yourself love them.”

  Luke looked at him, despair in his eyes.

  “Love makes you strong, Lucas. Love’s made me strong.”

  Luke flashed him a shadow of a smile. “Love’s made you into a dreamer.”

  “I only lose myself in the dreams that are worth dreaming. And you’re my biggest dream of all.”

  “I can’t dream those dreams with you, Seth,” he said despondently. “As much as I want to, I don’t know how.”

  “I don’t want you to dream the dreams. That’s my job. Your job is making my dreams a reality.”

  “And how exactly do you propose I do that?”

  “It’s easy. To start with, all you need to do is love me.”

  “I do. I love you so damn much I ache from it.”

  “Then we’re already halfway there.”

  “You make it sound so easy.” Luke shook his head. “But what about the other half?”

  “The other half we have to work at. We have to commit to being together, to making ‘us’ work. We have to give it everything, the two of us. Together. Which means just the two of us. No more third parties. Just you and me.”

  “I want that, Seth. So damn much I can almost taste it.”

  “Then we can have it, Luke.”

  “What if next time I lash out, I hit you?”

  “What if just for now, you put as much faith as I have in you, in us? I trust you, Luke. I know you won’t hurt me. Now trust yourself.”

  “You’d
take that risk? You’d put yourself in that kind of danger just to be with me?”

  “The only danger is a life without you. And that I never, ever want to face.”

  “I love you, Seth.”

  “Then prove it. Let go of your past and your fears and be with me. Only me.”

  Luke nodded. Slowly. “Help me?”

  “Always, Lucas. Now, forever and always.”

  And then Seth kissed him.

  Chapter Eleven

  “You sure you have everything? Your suitcase? Your ticket? Your passport?”

  “Seth, stop worrying. I have everything I need, and I don’t need a passport to get back to Sydney.”

  “You sure you wanna leave? You don’t wanna stay on, tour Australia with the band?”

  Kaz smiled patiently. “I’m absolutely sure. This is your life. Not mine. I loved sharing it for a while, but it’s time to go home now.”

  They stood outside the lobby of the hotel, surrounded by a loose circle of massive bodyguards who stood a short distance away, ensuring their privacy.

  “Damn it, sweet pea.” Seth pulled her into his arms. “I know you’re itching to get started with your life, but I’m going to miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you too.” She hugged him tight. Seth was right, she was itching to start her new job—as co-owner of the brand-new Sydney branch of The Little Shop of Treasures. A branch where she not only intended to sell crystals and books and offer alternative therapies, she planned to offer herself for reading auras. Because the bottom line was, she was damn good at it. And her ability to read colors could help people. It had helped Luke and Seth find their way to each other, and it had helped her find what she’d been looking for. A job she eagerly anticipated, and more importantly, direction in her life.

  “Shift over, Seth. Give someone else a chance to say goodbye.”

  Seth released her—reluctantly, she guessed by the length of time it took him to let her go—and she turned to Luke.

  She gasped. “Well, will you look at that.”

  “Look at what?” Luke asked.

  “Your aura.”

  “Did it vanish?”

  “No, you big idiot.” She let her gaze wander around his halo of color. “It’s beautiful. Really beautiful.”

  “Don’t tell me. It’s filled with sparkly silvers and golds that glitter in the sunlight.”