Veiled Innocence

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Veiled Innocence Page 8

by Ella Frank


  * * *

  I’d waited until he got out of the truck before approaching. I didn’t want his escape to be as easy as driving away. Standing in the small stone alcove of the gate, I knew it would be best to wait until he stepped away from the lit area. That way, any cars driving by wouldn’t be able to see us.

  I wanted no excuses, no reason for him to worry, but I could see my silence had caused just as much concern as my presence would have. He turned to me, and I finally took a moment to really look at him the way I wanted to.

  His hair was still pulled back but several pieces had now escaped and been pushed behind his ears. The darker stubble lining his square jaw made my fingers tingle with the need to touch.

  “Oh, thank God,” he whispered, sounding relieved.

  I thought he would move away from me once he knew I was safe. Instead, he reached out and squeezed my shoulder.

  “I thought something had happened to you.”

  I don’t think he realized that he was slowly massaging me.

  “Jesus, don’t do that again. Okay?”

  Taking another step closer, I agreed quietly. “Okay.”

  He licked his lips and removed his hands, and I saw in his eyes the minute he decided it was time for some distance.

  “What are you doing out here?” he asked. His casual black sports jacket shifted with the breeze, and all of a sudden I couldn’t remember why I was there. All I knew was that I wanted to touch him.

  “Addison?”

  His voice had the ability to make all of the noise inside my head cease.

  Blinking up at him, I finally answered, “Yes?”

  “What are you doing out here?”

  Moving in so my jacket brushed the front of his, I finally reached to touch him, but he grabbed my wrist, holding it away.

  “No,” he told me, and his voice was so stern I probably should have heeded the warning…but I didn’t.

  “No?”

  His head bent down, and when his face was a hairsbreadth from my own, he repeated, “No. Tell me why you’re here.”

  His breath was warm as it ghosted over my lips, and I couldn’t help but part my own, hoping by some miracle I could taste him on my tongue.

  “Why are you here? That’s a better question, don’t you think?”

  “I know better than this.”

  I reached up needing to touch him, but he took that hand too, holding them both prisoner. Being held in place with nowhere to go elicited a hunger in me that I didn’t yet understand. “Know better than what?”

  “Than to be here.”

  “Then go,” I offered.

  That was all it took. He spun me around, backed me up against the truck, and had my arms pinned by my head so fast I lost my breath. Leaning in beside me until his mouth was by my ear, he rasped in an unsteady voice, “I can’t.”

  I turned my head to face him and saw all of his turmoil, and finally, the full impact of his desire. “Then don’t.”

  “You’re going to be the death of me.”

  Life is full of ironies, because with him, I’d never felt more alive.

  * * *

  As I stood there, I could feel the pulse in her wrists beating beneath my fingers.

  “Kiss me,” she pleaded, straining against my hold. “Just once. So I’ll know what it’s like.”

  She didn’t need to beg; I’d made up my mind. The only question that remained was how I was going to stop once I started. Her lips parted, and as her tongue slipped out to moisten them, the time for waiting was over. I was drawn to her in a way I couldn’t describe.

  Lowering my head, I slowly tasted her upper lip with the tip of my tongue. She didn’t move, not even to breathe, as I did it again. This time, as I was about to pull back, those soft, plump lips of hers closed around my tongue and sucked it inside her mouth.

  I couldn’t help the groan that escaped me. It was as much from the sweet torture she’d put me through as it was from the searing arousal she was currently igniting.

  When her mouth slipped away, I chased it with my own and pushed my tongue inside, taking what I wanted without any thought of the consequences. Slow disappeared as her body shifted, trying to get closer to mine, and I didn’t dare release her.

  Addison’s mouth was sweet, and her body...it was fucking sinful.

  I lifted my head, my harsh breathing now matching hers. Her nose brushed against mine as she softly touched my lip with her tongue. My hands tightened where they were.

  Once is a mistake, I can play that off. But twice...can I really let this happen?

  As she whispered, “Again,”—I knew the answer.

  Releasing her, I trailed my fingers down her cheek and then cupped the side of her face before kissing her again. This time she was more than ready to reciprocate. She grabbed the side of my jacket and pulled me to her as I wrapped my arms around her waist, hauling her up against my body.

  The moan that left her was raw, sexual, and made my cock harder than I thought possible. I cupped her ass and slammed her back against the truck. Her legs wrapped around my hips, and I ground my erection against her.

  Heaven or hell? At this stage, it could have been either. I didn’t care.

  Her fingers found their way into my hair, and she angled her head, pushing her tongue deeper inside my mouth. I felt her pull the tie free, causing my hair to fall down in a curtain around us.

  For a moment, our mouths stopped moving, our tongues stopped tasting, and I held her there, trapped against the side of my truck. I took from her each breath she gave and returned it with one of my own.

  “This is crazy. We can’t…I can’t be doing this. Not with you.”

  I knew right then after only one taste, that if I couldn’t have her, there would be nobody else.

  * * *

  Trying to keep the connection, I ran my fingertips over the hard line of his jaw and then pushed his hair back behind his ears.

  “You’re so sexy.”

  He let out a self-derisive laugh and shook his head.

  “What? You don’t think so?”

  “I don’t think that you should think I’m sexy.”

  I couldn’t help the thrill of satisfaction I got when he squeezed my ass and pushed against me. He closed his eyes as if he was trying to get himself under control.

  “Well, this doesn’t help me to think otherwise.”

  “Addison,” he growled. “You’re trouble.”

  “And you’re hard. So I’m guessing you either like trouble, or you think I’m sexy too.”

  Releasing me, Grayson ran his hands around the waist of my coat and then drew one of my long brown curls between his thumb and forefinger.

  “I think…we shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “But we did.”

  He took a step back and agreed, “Yes. We did.”

  Pushing away from the truck, I raised a hand and laid it flat on his jacket, over his heart.

  “I want to do it again.”

  Turning away from me, he shoved his fingers through his hair and scuffed a foot into the ground before asking the question I knew would come.

  “Why don’t you tell me why we’re here?”

  I could tell he was trying to move on and push aside what just happened. Maybe even convince himself that it had been a one-time deal.

  I let him believe what he would in that moment and told him the truth.

  “I’m here to see my brother.”

  “Your brother?”

  “Yes,” I confirmed as I made my way past him. “I’m here to see Daniel.”

  * * *

  Present…

  Open.

  Eyes—open.

  I lie still amongst the flowers and listen for it, but it’s not there—there’s no tick, tick, tock. There’s nothing.

  The dream is familiar. This is where I meet Daniel, but this detail…this silence is not familiar. Like a whisper on the wind, I hear Grayson as clearly as if I’m back in his classroom. “Bukowski once wrot
e, find what you love and let it kill you.”

  Whipping my head around, I look for him.

  Is he here? Did I somehow pull him into this dream?

  I see nothing, and still, there’s no ticking of my watch.

  Defeated, I lie back down in the fields of purple, and just before my eyes close, I hear, “I found you.”

  My eyes snap open, and there it is.

  It’s back, and he’s gone—tick, tick, tock.

  Chapter Eleven

  Past…

  “Your brother?” I asked.

  I turned as she walked over to the gates. After she pushed them open, Addison looked back to where I was standing rooted to the same spot.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I know,” she simply replied. “You may want to park your truck inside, so no one reports it.”

  Great, now she’s telling me the smart thing to do.

  I cursed myself as I got in the truck and followed her down the drive to a small, empty lot. I sat for a minute watching her where she stood bathed in my headlights once more. Dressed as she was in her pure white coat, she resembled an angel. An angel I’d been kissing only minutes earlier. An angel I was thinking of in the most impure way possible.

  Cutting the lights and darkening my view, I got out and came around to where she was standing.

  “Do your parents know where you are?”

  The mischievous smile she aimed my way let me know she was onto me, and there was no way she was going to let me forget what’d just happened. Not when she finally had me where she wanted me.

  “Do yours?”

  “Addison.”

  “Grayson,” she countered and held out her hand. “Come with me. I want you to know who I am.”

  “I do know you, a little too well.”

  Not in the least bit deterred, she wrapped her fingers around mine, and I followed her despite my reservations.

  “I want you to know more of me. I want you to understand.”

  I felt her touch like a live wire as it traveled up my arm, shocking me in its wake.

  “Okay. But I’m driving you home after. You’re not walking alone at this hour.”

  With her hand clasped in mine and my cock stiffening at being this close, I thought it completely hypocritical of me to be concerned about her safety—especially with what I was thinking.

  “Are you worried something will happen to me?”

  I nodded. “You shouldn’t be walking around this late. Anything could happen.”

  “Anything?”

  She didn’t let up for a second. Always pushing me and leading me down a road I know I shouldn’t be on.

  “Okay,” she drawled. “You’re no fun.”

  It was an odd comment to make while standing in a cemetery, but before I could remark on it, she tugged me off the path and onto the grass.

  “This way.”

  I had two choices—let go of her and demand she get back in the truck. Or follow her...again. Like the fool that I was, I followed.

  She led me through several rows of tombstones with tall flowers sprouted alongside, almost as though the cemetery had been built in a field of—

  “What are these flowers?” I asked, pulling on her to stop.

  “Monkshood. Have you heard of them?”

  I had heard of them. They were a cult classic but usually in herb form, not as a flower. “Yes, it’s Wolf’s Bane. You do know how poisonous these are, right?”

  “Yes, I know. There are signs. See?” she replied, as if we were discussing the color of the sky.

  “Don’t you think you should have mentioned that? This is serious shit, Addison. You shouldn’t be here, especially at night. Jesus. Come on, let’s go.”

  She placed a hand on my chest and slid it up my shoulder and into my loose hair as she came up on her tiptoes. With her lips hovering over mine, she whispered, “They are also known as the queen of poisons. Did you know that?”

  I didn’t, but being in a cemetery with poisonous fucking flowers wasn’t what I called a good time.

  “Stop fucking around. This isn’t funny.”

  “Are you planning to bend down and pick the flowers?” I could feel her lips curving into a grin against my own.

  Considering the situation and what we were discussing, she sounded somewhat crazed. I found myself reaching for something to ground me. The fact that it was her waist was of no consequence as I gripped her tight.

  “What kind of game are you playing?” I demanded, not realizing until then that was what I was feeling—played.

  “No game,” she breathed out then licked my lip, causing me to yank my head back.

  “The fuck you’re not.”

  Her fingers massaged my head as she cocked hers to the side. “I told you.”

  “Your brother?”

  Nodding, she answered, “Yes…Daniel.”

  “What happened to him?” I asked.

  Without flinching, she replied, “I killed him.”

  * * *

  The hold Grayson had on my waist was so tight I would have a bruise for sure, and the way his mouth fell open at my admission made me wonder what was going through his mind.

  I released his hair and touched his hand.

  “Come,” I invited. “Don’t touch the flowers.”

  He didn’t answer, but his fingers took mine, and I led him farther across the dewy grass. When we arrived at the far back corner, I stopped in front of the tombstone that had Daniel’s name inscribed on it.

  Without looking at the man beside me, I explained, “Every Saturday I come here, hoping this is some kind of nightmare. One where I’ll walk through those gates, and this won’t be here. That all I’ll see is a field. A field that’s full of these poisonous flowers. It would be better than this alternative. Right?”

  That was when I faced him.

  Grayson was tall. I knew he was, but in that moment, I really took notice. His shoulders were broad and represented strength. To me, he was safe, and the entire time I was with him, I had not heard—I lifted my wrist and brought it to my ear.

  “Why do you do that?” he asked gently.

  Lowering my arm, happy that the watch was still working, I looked back to where Daniel lay buried beneath the earth.

  “Because I was late.”

  The silence that stretched between us was complicated for so many reasons, and even though I wanted to explain, I wasn’t sure I could. I’d never been able to before, not even to Doc, who my mom had been making me visit at least once a week for the past two years.

  “What were you late for?” he asked, seeming to understand that since I couldn’t describe my obsession, it was best just to ask why I had it.

  “Who, not what.” I felt a tear slip from my eye and trail down my face. “I was too late for him.”

  * * *

  Present…

  “Tell me, Addison, what does this picture mean to you?”

  I look at the photograph Doc is holding in front of me. It’s a picture of a beautiful purple flower. A flower shaped like a monk’s hood.

  I remain silent.

  “Nothing?”

  My eyes shift to his. The waiting game? Oh, I can wait.

  Tick, tick, tock.

  He turns the picture around and examines it.

  “It’s a photo of a Monkshood flower,” he says, but he knows I’m already aware of that. “It’s very pretty, don’t you think?”

  Bait me. That’s what he’s trying to do. He will fail.

  “I didn’t know they grew here in Denver, but they do.”

  I arch my brow, and he knows me well enough that he continues.

  “People often do stupid things when it comes to something pretty…even when they know better.” He pauses and sits forward, giving me the photograph. As my fingers touch it, he asks, “Did Grayson?”

  For a split second, I wish I could tell him everything, but I have no answer. Not the one he wants. He wants me to ask for help, but even if I could, I wo
uldn’t.

  I don’t need protecting.

  Sitting back in my seat, I trace the shape of the flower with the tip of my finger and remind myself that he is gone, and nothing will change that. All I have to do is…forget I ever knew him.

  Raising my head, I pin Doc with a vacant stare and answer his question.

  “No. Akoviton.”

  Doc’s eyes remain on me. “I don’t understand.”

  “Without struggle.”

  I can see his mind working as he asks, “Who? Grayson went without struggle?”

  A sly smile stretches my lips. He thinks I’m giving him something. I’m giving him nothing.

  “This flower, Aconitum, comes from the Greek word akoviton, which means…without struggle.”

  He says nothing as he leans back in his chair. I can tell he is trying to decide if there is more to my statement than what’s on the surface.

  Let him wonder. Let him think.

  This session’s over as far as I’m concerned.

  Tick, tick, tock.

  * * *

  Past…

  “Come on, Addison. Let me take you home.”

  I could tell she had gone somewhere in her head because she was no longer talking as she stood beside me. She was counting.

  One, two, three. One, two, three.

  Over and over she repeated the numbers, and the instinct to wrap her in my arms now came from concern. She was visibly upset, and I wasn’t sure if my touch would help to calm her or cause further distress.

  “Addison?” I coaxed.

  Her hair shifted softly in the breeze, and when those blue eyes of hers found me, I thought she appeared as perfect as the first time I’d met her.

  The perfection, however, was marred. Not in a horrible disfigured way but on a deep subconscious level. She searched my face, for what I wasn’t sure, and continued to count—one, two, three—in a way that I would never stop hearing.

  This girl was damaged. Why hadn’t I seen that?

  She was broken, and some part of me wanted to fix her.

  I took her hand, gently squeezing her fingers, and with that small touch, the counting stopped.

 

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