Lies

by Aleatha Romig

  Araneae

  Having a cardiologist help me with a shower seemed a bit like overkill. The woman specialized in the health of people’s hearts, and here she was walking me into the bathroom of the room where I’d awoken. The room itself as well as the attached bathroom was lovely and impersonal. I hadn’t asked if this was also Sterling’s bedroom, but I had the feeling it wasn’t. Then again, the bedroom he called his own within the cabin didn’t have any pictures or personal mementos, nothing that said it was his own—well, other than it was.

  “Your color is better since the oatmeal and fruit,” Dr. Dixon said. “And you made it back upstairs, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you fall in the shower on my watch.” The part she didn’t say, the part hanging in the air like a neon sign, was that she wouldn’t want to be the one to explain a fall to Sterling.

  He may be more open in this apartment; however, he was still Sterling Sparrow.

  Dr. Dixon was right: the food had helped and I had made it upstairs. The trip to the second floor was slow, reminding me of what Sterling had said about hiking to the lake in Ontario. The hike back up to the cabin took three times as long as the hike down. I’d say the same could be said for those stairs.

  It’s an apartment.

  Who needs so many stairs?

  As for food, Dr. Dixon decided that I shouldn’t eat anything too heavy or spicy. Oatmeal and blueberries fit the bill. After giving it time to digest, it was more satisfying than I would have believed.

  While I wanted to find my phone—which was probably with Patrick—and call Louisa and Winnie, I doubted I’d find it while Patrick and Sterling were MIA. According to Lorna, they’d gone to what she called their lair. It sounded a lot like a bat cave, but Batman fought criminals, working on behalf of the Justice League. I wasn’t convinced that title of superhero would apply to Sterling.

  Strangely, that didn’t bother me as much as I thought it should.

  According to him, I had somehow been born into this world. Maybe I was a villain too. If Spiderman was a hero, couldn’t Spiderwoman be an anti-hero?

  Each exposed secret revealed another lie about my life—the life I thought I had—and yet I believed that despite the little that had been shared with me, the truth was still veiled in lies.

  And then there was the hole that was last night. Neither truth nor lie, it was gone.

  Dr. Dixon explained that amnesia or memory loss associated with trauma wasn’t uncommon. It also wasn’t usually permanent. She recommended not dwelling on it. The information would return in its own time. That sounded a lot like the information from Sterling Sparrow. The difference was that his information wasn’t locked away in the recesses of my mind. It was his to share as he saw fit.

  Instead of worrying about my phone or retrieving my memories, after finishing breakfast I asked Dr. Dixon about taking a shower. Apparently having unwanted drugs in my system and my stomach pumped—the only information I’d officially received—gave me a sense of yuck.

  Yes, that was my official description of how I felt, as if my skin was covered in a coating, not lotions and creams but something I wanted gone.

  On our long walk back upstairs, she explained that my body needed to expel the chemicals I’d consumed—another clue, they’d been consumed—therefore, it did and would continue to remove them in any way possible. The IV and catheter—another yuck—from earlier, and once I woke, my eating and drinking, all worked together to help remove in a normal way, whatever had been left after my stomach was pumped. The body’s other method for removal was perspiration. As happened when I stood too quickly in the kitchen, apparently throughout the night, I’d been wracked with bouts of perspiration and chills. The best way to describe the result would be to equate it to a very bad hangover, when even your pores emitted the odor of the offending liquor.

  I’d had that terrible experience once with vodka after an off-campus party my senior year at St. Mary of the Forest. It was my first experience with alcohol, and after that night and the next morning, it was my last experience for about three years.

  Vodka and I still weren’t friends. Wine and whiskey, that’s a different story. Though in general, other than occasionally, drinking wasn’t my thing.

  Even though I’d washed my face and tried to clean myself prior to going downstairs, I now can only imagine the first impression I gave to Genevieve Sparrow.

  Right, Kennedy, next time you meet her, be freshly showered and dressed up. You two will become best friends.

  I didn’t think so.

  Dr. Dixon directed me to the long vanity. “Araneae, there’s a seat in the shower. I recommend you sit as much as possible. Your strength will return. Your blood saturation levels are normal. Just give yourself time.”

  I nodded as she turned on the shower. Immediately, warm steam escaped the glass enclosure. As the humidity built I had a flashback, a memory of Sterling on the plane. He was standing by a shower, every inch of his body on display. Yet it wasn’t erotic or even comforting.

  No, this memory was frightening.

  My body quaked with a chill.

  “Are you going to be all right?” Dr. Dixon asked, reaching for my hand.

  I looked up into her big brown eyes. “I don’t know.”

  Was I?

  The image that had skirted over my memory was so different than the man at the bottom of the stairs. Maybe I was confusing things in reality with the hodgepodge of dreams.

  “The water’s warm. Let me help you.”

  Letting go of the counter, I untied the sash of the robe. Beneath the covering I only wore panties, ones I recalled putting on while on the airplane. The dress hadn’t allowed a bra and this room was basically devoid of clothes. I’d taken a look into the closet and opened a few drawers. As I opened the plush long robe, I recalled Sterling’s decree that no one but him would see me naked.

  It was a risk making assumptions when it came to him, but in my mind, the doctor who had just taken care of me qualified as an exception.

  As the sleeves pulled over my shoulders, I winced. The soreness wasn’t from the arm that had been attached to the IV. No, this was my upper right arm. My gaze darted to the discolored skin. The marked area wasn’t prominent—shades of blues and greens—yet it was distinctive in the undeniable shape of four strong fingers.

  I rolled my arm to see the darker oval of what could be assumed to be the print of a thumb.

  My eyes fluttered closed as I tried to recall what had happened.

  Dr. Dixon stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as she inspected the bruise. “I saw this last night.” Her gaze met mine. “Would you like to tell me what happened?”

  “I-I don’t remember.” I gently rubbed my other hand over the evidence.

  “I want you to know that I would do anything for Mr. Sparrow. But first and foremost, I’m a doctor. I have him to thank for that, but right now you’re my patient. I’m here if you need someone. I won’t—”

  I shook my head. “Dr. Dixon, I’m not lying or covering up. You saw him downstairs. It doesn’t fit in character.” Though I recalled another scene with a different character. “I don’t remember what happened to my arm.”

  “She was falling and I caught her.”

  Araneae

  We both sucked in a breath and turned toward the deep voice rumbling from the doorway, dominating the bathroom. It wasn’t simply the sound of Sterling Sparrow that stole my breath; it was the authority of his presence. Swallowing, I scanned the man who’d suddenly appeared.

  More haggard than usual, Sterling was still the handsomest man I’d ever encountered. Though his gaze and set jaw said business, his posture seemed more relaxed. With one arm lifted to the doorjamb, the muscles of his bicep bulged. In the time it took to blink, my gaze moved lower to where his lightweight sweatpants hung low from his hips, revealing the V of his torso. In that small toned area between his t-shirt and pants, made visible by his uplifted arm, was the area with the trail of dark hair.

 
; “Mr. Sparrow,” Dr. Dixon said, focusing my gaze back to his. No doubt she was wondering the same thing that I was—what did he overhear?

  The dark expression I recalled not liking was back as the tendons in his neck pulled tighter with each word. He lowered his arm. “Thank you, Dr. Dixon, for your assistance, professionalism, candor, and discretion. I can guarantee that Araneae is safe with me.”

  “Sir, I-I wasn’t...”

  My pulse kicked up as they spoke.

  “You were,” he said, “and given what you see, you should.” He stepped forward and gently reached for my arm. As his dark stare scanned the bruise, his fingers intertwined with mine. “I caught her before she hit the floor. Not all bruises are as justifiable.” With one finger from his other hand, he turned my face from side to side.

  What was he doing?

  Returning his attention to Dr. Dixon, he went on, “I mean it. Thank you, Renita. One day, if you haven’t already, you’ll save a life, and I don’t mean regarding cardiac care.” He tilted his head toward the running shower. “Is she strong enough for that?”

  “The drug is mostly gone.”

  It was as if I wasn’t standing there, my robe partially open, as they continued to talk, to discuss me.

  “Yes,” Dr. Dixon went on, “she asked to shower, and I believe she’s up to it. I wouldn’t recommend leaving her in there unattended. That’s what we were about to do. I was going to help, be sure she had the strength. After that, I recommend rest for the remainder of the day. Each day will be better.”

  “Hello, I’m the patient. Talk to me.” I didn’t say it aloud though the words were on my tongue and fighting to jump off.

  Sterling nodded. “I think I have it covered from here. She’s released from your care. I’m sure there are other patients in need of your expertise.”

  Released from her care...

  That was Sterling’s way of countering what the doctor had said before we knew he was here. If I were released, I was no longer her patient.

  Dr. Dixon nodded. Our eyes met in the large mirror, the one slowly being covered in the warm moisture. “You are going to be fine, Araneae. However, if you start feeling ill or something doesn’t feel right, tell Mr. Sparrow or Mr. Kelly to contact me. We’ll reinstate your care, and I’ll be here as quickly as possible.”

  Before I could respond, Sterling did.

  “Patrick has already taken most of your things to your car in the garage. It seems as though we’re done.”

  Dr. Dixon stood taller. “Thank you. Goodbye, Mr. Sparrow. Ms. McCrie...” She smiled my direction. “...it has been a pleasure meeting you.”

  I forced a scoff. “Maybe next time it could be less traumatic.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Reaching for my shoulders, Sterling gently turned me toward him as Dr. Dixon’s footsteps disappeared into the bedroom and the sound of the door to the hallway alerted us that she had departed. Though I was confused and unsure about...well, everything, under his gaze I melted toward him, wanting—and in my weakened state, shamelessly needing—the man from downstairs, the one concerned about my well-being, the one who protected me.

  The pounding of his heart thumped loudly below the soft t-shirt as I laid my cheek and upper body against his strong solid torso. In seconds, Sterling’s t-shirt dampened as tears of exhaustion and uncertainty escaped my closed lids. As I struggled for breath, his strong arms encircled me with warmth, moving downward until they rested upon my lower back. When he didn’t speak, after taking a deep breath, I did.

  “I need to know what happened.”

  His chin above my head nodded. “I’ll tell you everything. There’ve been too many lies.”

  I looked up at his stony expression.

  “From you?”

  “No, everything I’ve told you is the truth.”

  There was a certainty in his words and expression that I believed.

  Letting go of my waist, Sterling took a step back and after untying and kicking off his shoes, he reached for the waistband of his sweatpants.

  “What are you doing?”

  When he looked back up, the gleam in his eyes gave me a glimpse of the other man, the one who was more than intensity, the one with an overpowering need to protect and an equally consuming desire. It was only a peek, but he was there.

  “Sunshine, you wanted to shower. I’m helping you.”

  My lower lip disappeared behind my teeth as his pants lowered, revealing that again there was nothing underneath. Nothing was a terribly inaccurate description. There was definitely something underneath—just not boxers.

  “Wait,” I said. “Dr. Dixon wasn’t going to join me.”

  “I’m not Dr. Dixon.”

  He wasn’t.

  “But...” My words trailed away. Arguing this wouldn’t get me anywhere.

  Stepping in the shower, Sterling adjusted the temperature as his wide chest and broad shoulders deflected the shower’s spray. Turning my way, he reached out, offering me his hand. If the surroundings and our attire were different, with his expression and gesture, he could be asking me to dance.

  With a tug to the still-partially-tied sash, I allowed the robe to drop before lowering the panties to the floor that was now littered with our clothes. As if accepting the invitation to dance, I placed my hand in his much larger one and stepped into the glass enclosure.

  Sterling’s attention went to my arm and then to my cheeks. “Last night, someone slipped something into your drink at the party we attended.”

  I’d been poisoned. I suppose I’d known that from the clues. That wasn’t the same as having it confirmed.

  My knees weakened as I lowered myself onto the shower’s bench, my eyes on him, not the part of his body that was now at eye level and more than partially erect.

  His words had my full attention.

  “I didn’t know,” he went on. “I hadn’t been away from you for long.”

  His jaw clenched between each sentence.

  “I’d made my declaration.” He ran his fingers through his now-wet mane. “You are safe. The person who’s responsible will be dealt with as well as anyone associated with him or her. You’re now safe.”

  You’re safe.

  It was as if he needed to keep repeating it.

  I wasn’t sure if it was for me or for him.

  “We stepped into the elevator to leave,” he went on, “and you collapsed.”

  “My arm?” I asked.

  “I reached for you.”

  He reached out again with an open palm for me to stand. I didn’t. Instead, I took a deep breath of the heavy, humid air. “Sterling, I remembered something that happened on the plane. It’s bits and pieces, but I recall being upset. I was more than that. I was...”

  Did I want to say it? Did I want to admit it?

  His eyes closed and opened slowly. “Araneae, come here.” Again his hand was extended.

  This time I did as he said, moving to my feet.

  He lifted my chin, bringing my lips to his. “I will fucking kill anyone who harms you, with my bare hands if necessary. Anyone. That doesn’t mean that I won’t also do whatever I feel is necessary to keep you safe, even if it seems like too much at the time.”

  I forced a smile. “Like having a cardiologist help me shower and watch me eat breakfast.”

  “Like that...” His hands at my waist moved to cup my behind. “...or taking it out on this mighty fine ass to help you understand the importance.” His lips brushed my forehead. “This world I’ve brought you into is dangerous. Above all, remember, you’re ultimately safe with me. Trust me.”

  I wanted to believe him, to trust him.

  Reaching for his chest, I looked past his wide shoulder. “We better hurry or the hot water will run out.”

  Sterling shook his head. “No, it’s instant hot. We could spend all day in here and it wouldn’t cool a degree.”

  Wow. That’s cool—or hot.

  “Still, all day is a long time, and I’m not
quite back to full energy.”

  The gleam from his dark stare was back, the one that did twisty-turny things to my insides. Reaching again for my shoulders, Sterling said, “Leave the energy to me.”

  Nodding, I allowed Sterling to slowly turn me until I was facing the tile wall.

  “Hold on, sunshine.”

  I still wasn’t sure what happened last night, but as I faced the damp tile, I knew one thing.

  I wanted to trust Sterling Sparrow.

  A minute earlier, I would have thought that I wasn’t up for what this man could give me. That was sixty seconds ago. Sixty seconds can change many things. Widening my stance, I leaned forward, my hands on the tile as I closed my eyes.

  Mentally preparing for something else, Sterling startled me as a gentle warm rain covered my hair. With the shower’s wand he methodically sprayed my hair and skin in cleansing water. The next was the cool sensation of shampoo combined with the sweet aroma of grapefruit and oranges. As his long fingers massaged, I was transported to a country grove filled with citrus trees.

  Conditioner came next, followed by the fresh clean scent of bodywash and a soft cloth. With a tenderness I didn’t expect, Sterling tended to all of me, caressing my aching muscles and washing away the aftereffects of the poison. Through it all his lips kissed and filled my ears with reassurance.

  “You are amazing. So strong. I knew you’d come back to me. When you walked into the club last night, every eye was upon you. They all saw you as I do. They saw the queen you are.” Sterling ran his hands over my skin, over my breasts, teasing my hardening nipples, to my waist where he pulled me against him. I leaned my head back as his lips came to the sensitive area behind my ear. His whisper was more of a growl, his words a declaration. “You’re mine, Araneae. One day you’ll believe it as much as this sexy body of yours already does.”

  As his words rumbled through me, looking down, I watched the last bit of bubbles slide down my legs, onto my feet, and down the drain. Turning in his hold, I reached up to and palmed his prickly cheeks. “Thank you.”