by Jinsey Reese
For what felt like an eternity, I gazed at the bright lights and the streets I knew so well. I loved this city so much. I’d always wanted to live here, and now I was. Sure, so much was screwed up in my life at the moment, but I was living in Paris. Some things were right.
My head was starting to swim in that delightful way it always did when the pills and booze kicked in. My whole body relaxed into a dreamy heaviness, and I felt a little dizzy. Good. I was on the verge of blessed oblivion.
Time to lie down.
I tried to walk around the side table to get back to my room, but I missed a few steps and ended up bumping into a lamp. It teetered and tipped, but I was way too fascinated to do anything about it except watch as it fell in slow motion, landing on the floor with a fantastic, colorful crash.
Oh, wow. Now the room was spinning. I stepped over the broken pieces and crawled onto the couch. It was so soft and squishy, and just right for snuggling up and falling right to sleep.
Just as my head hit the cushions and my eyes were closing, there was a loud knock on the door.
Dare said, “Reagan?”
I looked at the door and waved, too tired to form words.
He knocked again. Louder. “Are you okay? REAGAN?!”
I wanted to tell him everything was fine, but my mouth wouldn’t work, my eyes didn’t want to stay open any longer. Where the fuck had this feeling been ten minutes ago when I’d needed it?
There was a bang and the door flew open. Dare’s tall frame filled the doorway, outlined by the light spilling in from the hallway. He looked around the room, took in the smashed lamp and said, “What the fuck is going on over here? Are you alright?”
Then he was next to me, squatting down so that we were face-to-face. I could feel his warm breath on my skin, so I opened my eyes and reached out to touch his cheek.
“You have such a nice face,” I said with a soft laugh.
His eyes hardened. “Jesus. Are you…high?”
I nodded. Then shook my head at the look on his face. “Couldn’t sleep. Just needed a little help to relax.” I pointed out the window. “I love Paris. Don’t you love Paris?”
“Yeah.” He stared at me, looking like he wanted to say something more, but my eyes started to close again and he sighed. I felt his arms slip under my legs and behind my back, and then I was lifted up into the sky. I wrapped my arms around his neck, leaned my head against his shoulder, and breathed him in.
He carried me into my bedroom, gently laying me down on the bed. I snuggled into the covers and felt the pull of the earth throughout my entire body.
Everything was a jumble in my mind, getting mixed up and moved around. My thoughts were hazy, my entire body loose and warm.
I drifted off to sleep, my mind laced with Dare.
seven
Light barely leaked into the room when I woke the next morning. I inhaled deeply, trying to get rid of the fuzz in my brain. Blinking a few times, I looked around. The curtains were drawn, which was strange because I always left them open, and the layout of the bedroom didn’t seem quite right.
For a moment, I was certain I’d be doomed to a Parisian walk of shame, though I had no recollection of seeking that out last night. But I’d moved yesterday, I remembered. This was my new place.
Last night I’d unpacked and—
“So you’re finally awake, Princess.”
My gaze flew to the other side of the room where Dare sat in a deep green stuffed chair. His hair was a mess, his eyes bloodshot, and he was rolling his shoulders and neck with a wince as if he’d spent the entire night in that chair.
Shit. Had he been here all night?
“What…?” I started to say as I sat up, but he cut me off.
“What the FUCK are you thinking?” He sat forward, his elbows on his knees, and glared at me. “Are you fucking insane?”
I shook my head, trying to remember what had happened last night, but came up blank. Sure, the Ambien had made me loopy, but what had I done to make him so freaking angry?
“How can you still be taking those damn pills?” My little orange bottle was in his hand—and my heart stopped. Part of me was ashamed and the other part was panicked that he’d take them. He shook the vial at me before chucking it across the room. Then he picked up a wine bottle from the floor. “AND with alcohol? Are you REALLY this fucking stupid, Reagan?”
For a moment I wondered if he was going to throw that, too. But then his words sunk in.
My jaw clenched and I narrowed my eyes at him. He had no right calling me stupid.
No fucking right.
“Look—”
“No, YOU look, Reagan. You almost DIED three years ago. Do you get that? The last time I saw you, you were lying in a hospital bed looking like shit and fucking lucky to still be breathing after all the crap you’d swallowed. And…” He broke off, and started pacing the room as if he was searching for the right words but couldn’t find them. Then he stopped and his face lost its hard edge. It was softened with so much pain I almost gasped. “…it almost killed me. If you had died…” He shook his head, and was all hard lines again. “And you’re still using? Are you fucking kidding me? You’re smarter than this.” Then he stopped and stared at me again, fire burning in his eyes. “At least the Reagan I knew was.”
He was not going to throw that in my face. Fuck that.
I tried to scramble out of the bed, but the sheets were tangled around my legs. The more I pulled on them, the angrier I got. By the time I’d ripped the covers free and my feet hit the floor, I was fuming.
“The Reagan you knew? You mean REE?” I laughed. Actually laughed. Without joy, without humor. It sounded as hollow and cold as my mother’s voice. “Oh, that’s RICH, Dare. She’s LONG gone. The Reagan you knew doesn’t exist anymore. She died when you left.”
“Me?!” His eyebrows shot up into his hairline as he jabbed himself in the chest. “You’re blaming me? You didn’t want me. You made your choice. Loud and clear.”
“And I was wrong!” I threw my hands up in the air, my heart hammering against my ribcage. God, I wanted to throttle him SO badly. “Jesus, I was in the fucking hospital surrounded by my family, my father’s finger hovering above his phone, ready to destroy you if I said anything. What did you expect me to do? I was trying to protect you!”
“No, you’re right,” Dare said, his eyes blazing. “Why would I expect you to fight for me like I would have fought for you?”
“Fight for me?” My voice rose in pitch and volume. “You would have fought for me? Was that before or AFTER you didn’t return any of my messages? Was that before or AFTER you left without saying goodbye? Without telling me where you’d gone?”
He stopped then. Searched my face as the truth of what had happened dawned on him.
“I called you,” I said. “I texted you. For WEEKS. I snuck out to your gallery show to see you. To tell you.” Tears were stinging the backs of my eyes but I pushed them back and drew in a deep breath. “To be with you, go wherever you were going.”
Dare stood frozen in place, his brow furrowed, his eyes burning into mine. And then he closed the distance between us, took my face in his hands and crushed his mouth to mine.
And I was alive again. Electricity ricocheted through my body, making me tingle from head to toe. I opened my lips, tasting him hungrily as my hands grabbed fistfuls of his white t-shirt to pull him to me, anger and desire equally fueling my movements.
He seemed to be operating on a similar cocktail of fury and need as his hands slid into my hair, his tongue roughly tangling with mine. An ache started to pulse between my legs and expanded into a throbbing need that coursed into every part of my body, igniting my blood until I was certain fire burned through my veins. I bit down on his lip, pulling it between my teeth and let go of his shirt to dig my fingers into his back. I opened my legs wanting to feel him against my hot, aching core, and he gripped my ass, lifting my legs to wrap around him.
His skin was hot and smooth, his
muscles hard under my touch. He kissed me rough and hard, angrily taking everything I was more than willing to give, possessing every part of me. He pushed us forward until my back banged up against the wall, pressing me as tight against him as I could be.
And still it wasn’t enough. For him or me.
I tugged at his hair and rocked my hips forward and was immediately rewarded with the hard length of him pressing against me. I moaned at the feel of him, my panties instantly soaked.
In this moment, I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life.
But there was a loud knock out in the hallway, and he suddenly stopped and pulled away. His head tilted toward the door, listening. Someone called out his name.
A woman.
Dare put me down and backed away, groaning as he ran his fingers through his hair.
“Shit,” he said under his breath and wiped his mouth against the back of his hand as if he were wiping off my kiss. Looking down at me, his chest heaving, he shook his head. “I can’t do this with you, Reagan. I won’t.”
Then he turned and walked out of the room.
I stood staring after him, listening to my door open and then click closed. In between, I heard the delighted sound of a woman greeting him.
Mon amour, she called him.
My love.
My legs gave out and I slid down the wall to the floor, but my heart kept going, dropping out of my body and down until it was deep underground where I could not go to retrieve it.
Why was I doing this to myself?
And why in fuck’s name couldn’t I resist him? He was like the worst kind of addiction to the most amazing drug I’d ever had. I knew I needed to kick this habit if I was going to get on with my life…I just didn’t know if I could.
Or if I wanted to.
eight
The next two weeks dragged by, punctuated only by my few, tense conversations with Lucien about the artists I was finding, and a growing procession of women going in and out of Dare’s apartment every night after I got home.
Every. Fucking. Night.
I crossed paths with them on the stairs or heard them laughing out in the hallway as I scoped out artists online. I even ran into Dare and the bimbo-of-the-day when I went out to pick up dinner a couple of times.
He was everywhere.
On my mind, in the building, on the street.
Everywhere but in my life.
And it hurt. Draining-the-life-out-of-me pain.
Which made me think that I pretty much sucked at this closure thing. Either that, or it was a total crock of shit.
But tonight, strangely, all was quiet. No women, no sounds at all from his apartment. For once, I felt like I could relax and drop my guard.
I shut my laptop, plugged it in, and left it on the desk. Then I went out to the kitchen to get a glass of wine.
And that was when the lights went out.
Everything went out.
The apartment was pitched into darkness, and I froze.
Too dark. It was too dark. No light came in from the streets, no moonlight shone through the windows. The world around me was just black.
Like a cold, dark cellar.
My heart started hammering, and I drew in a deep breath. Deep breaths were supposed to help you calm down, right? But after a couple of them I was pretty sure that advice was a crock of shit too because I wasn’t feeling calm AT ALL. In fact, my heart was trying to pound its way out of my chest as waves of panic flooded me, threatening to drown me.
Hands. I could feel his hands.
I swung my arm around behind me, knocking the wine bottle to the floor with a crash.
No one was here. No one was here.
My pulse took flight. I struggled to breathe as my lungs screamed for air. With every quick, strained breath, it felt like no oxygen entered my body and I became more lightheaded.
No one here, no one here, no one here.
Of course no one was here. I was alone in my apartment in Paris. At least I thought I was. And I needed to get outside where I could breathe, before I started screaming.
Holding my hands out in front of me, I stumbled out of the kitchen, feeling for the wall, hurrying toward the door. I wasn’t being careful—I didn’t have time to be careful. I needed out.
He whispered something in my ear.
Goosebumps prickled my skin. I whipped around but couldn’t see anything.
I took a step, tripped, and started falling, my arms flailing out in front of me. I landed hard and something crashed to the floor next to me.
It was him. He was here.
The screams came out with a will of their own as I squeezed my eyes shut and kicked at nothing. I clawed my way toward the exit in the pitch black, scrabbled for the doorknob, flung the door open and rushed into the equally dark hallway.
And crashed right into him.
Oh, god. His arms came around me, holding me still, trapping me in the dark.
With him.
I thrashed around, kicking, trying to break free, but he held me tight. My screams turned to sobs as I realized I couldn’t get away.
Again.
But I wasn’t going to stop fighting.
“Reagan, it’s me! Calm down. You’re okay,” Dare said. “Ow! Fuck that hurt.”
Dare?! Not—
“REAGAN!” he yelled, gently shaking my shoulders. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
I inhaled…and smelled art—oil paint, charcoal, and graphite. It really was Dare.
I was in his arms. Safe.
“Look,” he said. There was a little click and his face was lit up. “It’s me. You’re okay.”
I stared at him for a long, silent moment, my eyes open wide, my wild pulse slowing down as my vision filled with him.
Finally, I could breathe again. I looked around the hallway—his door was open and I could see faint amber light flickering off the walls. Candles. He’d lit candles.
I was okay. It had all just been my imagination. Thank god.
My hands started shaking, and the rest of my body followed suit.
“Hey.” Dare lifted my chin, his brow crinkling in concern. “Jesus. That really freaked you out. You okay?”
I nodded, glancing back at my apartment door and the darkness inside. I did NOT want to go back in there by myself. I’d spend the entire night outside on the street until the power came back on if I had to, but I was not going back in there. Not until there was light.
As if reading my mind, Dare said, “Come on,” and gently pulled me into his apartment.
Candles flickered from the center of the coffee table and the kitchen counter. Dare guided me over to the couch, sat me down, then went into the kitchen. He came back a moment later with a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses. Without saying a word, he poured and handed me one. I downed it immediately.
The burn made my eyes water and I could feel warmth spreading out through my system as if the heat of the alcohol was already flowing in my veins. Dare held up the bottle in a silent offer of more, but I shook my head.
One was enough. For once. Plus, I could already feel its calming effects. If I was back in my apartment, I’d be reaching for my pills. I glanced up at Dare, wondering if he knew that. If he knew just how much I wanted them right now. How badly I needed them.
He was staring at me intensely, the answer to my question etched in the furrow of his brow.
“So…?” he said. “The dark still bothers you.”
“Something like that.” I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. I was not going to tell him about it. I wasn’t going to tell anyone. Ever again. The two people I’d told—my parents—had failed me.
No. Not just failed. They’d betrayed me. In the worst possible way.
“Do you want to talk—”
“No.” Please, no.
I couldn’t even think about it. No need to awaken seven-year-old demons right now.
A muscle in Dare’s jaw popped. “Reaga
n, obviously there’s something—”
“It’s none of your concern,” I said, my cheeks flushing. Why was he pushing this? Why was he pretending to care? He didn’t want me. “You’ve made that perfectly clear.”
“Reagan.”
“Let’s just not tonight, okay?”
He poured himself another shot, drank it and put his glass down on the table before he answered. “Fine.”
I sighed. A strained silence stretched between us. Finally, I broke it because I couldn’t stand it anymore. “How’s your family? Where are they now?”
Dare leaned back in his chair and looked at me from across the table. “California. We moved there from New York three years ago to get as far away as possible.”
Whoa. Punch to the gut.
“From me?” I said, my voice quiet. Had he really hated me that much?
“From my dad,” he said. “Not everything is about you, Princess.”
I looked at him hard. “But that was. You were getting far away from me, too.”
He worked his jaw, clenching and releasing it a couple of times before he nodded.
“How’s your mom?” I said.
“Same. She’s…mom.”
“What about Dax and Dalia?”
At the mention of their names he lit up. A small smile touched his lips as his gaze fell to his hands. His face filled with warmth that I hadn’t seen in a really long time.
God, I’d missed it so much, and I hadn’t even realized it until I saw it again. But that kind of light only came with belonging. He clearly felt it with his brother and sister, which just accentuated the cold, dead hole in my life where that feeling should have been.
I belonged nowhere, with no one. I’d broken from my family—where I’d never belonged in the first place—and was now on my own, more alone than I’d ever been. I had Sabine, of course, cheering me on from New York, but other than that? Archer. We’d talked a couple of times since I’d gotten here, but he just kept trying to convince me to come back, to go to law school and live the life I didn’t want. He didn’t understand.
But Dare? He had everything I wanted.
He WAS everything I wanted.
And I was everything he didn’t want. God, I was so fucked.