Eluding Nirvana

by King, V. L.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Bonus Scene

  Acknowledgements

  A Bella Tulip Book

  Bella Tulip Publishing, 83 Ducie Street, Manchester, M1 2JQ www.bellatulippublishing.com

  Published by Bella Tulip Publishing 2017

  ELUDING NIRVANA

  © Copyright V. L. King 2017

  All rights reserved.

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events and organisations are purely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, nor translated into a machine language, without the written permission of the publisher.

  Condition of sale

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Cover design © Copyright Bella Tulip Publishing 2017

  Cover design by Lindsey Jayne

  Editing by Angie Wade

  Dedication

  To my Nan:

  Sixteen years without you and yet it still seems like yesterday that I was holding your hand, listening to stories of WWI and WWII, alongside married life in the olden days, while eating a chocolate animal bar.

  You were the first strongest woman that I knew and loved; I was and still remain in awe of everything you had experienced. My love for you is unending.

  To my mother:

  You were the second strongest woman that I know and love.

  You’re a Stevens…you’re your mother’s daughter. You’re a fighter…you got out while you could. I love you.

  Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos into order, and confusion into clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend.

  —Melody Beattie

  Prologue

  Spying through the bay window, Liam was pacing in the living room, the phone to his ear as he flexed his free hand.

  Two weeks I had been seeking clarity, enlightenment…nirvana. And right then, Walker’s words haunted my mind. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make damn fucking sure you remember.

  As I stood staking out my home from the safety of the sidewalk like some abused little woman, I felt myself spiraling rapidly down the rabbit hole without any brakes. The quandary which I came to accept back when I was laying in the hospital bed, about the doctors and medical personnel being unable to hook me up to some device like in a sci-fi movie, and travel the tunnel of past memories, was now very much tangible.

  And it took Walker and everything I had seen and felt that night to instigate it.

  Sparks fired. Memories unlocked. Nirvana was found.

  Fuck…

  Chapter One

  December 2010

  Two and a half years before the accident…

  The warmth and softness of the velvet backrest left my body feeling cold as I shifted to the edge of my seat, practically folding myself over the romantically dressed table for two. I was staring at the man before me, a man who was fiercely passionate in both work and his relationship. A man who was never dealt his cards; he was the one who dealt them.

  He was pretty much as haughty and as confident then as he had been the night I agreed to go on a date with him. So there we were sitting, in the heart of the most romantic Italian restaurant in Boston, amongst high-class lovers swathed in golden flickering candlelight, in the exact place, right down to the exact table, where we had our first date, celebrating our two-year anniversary.

  I drew in my lower lip and clamped my teeth down gently. He knew my game. He saw it in my eyes. The way they glimmered and darkened as I held my head low and coquettish, casting him with my scandalous I-want-you-to-fuck-me-and-I-don’t-care-if-you-take-me-over-this-very-table-with-the-clientele-watching look.

  Liam DeLaney could read me like a book.

  It was a shame the skill wasn’t mutual.

  “Happy Anniversary, Kady baby,” he muttered on a small smirk. His tie was held flush against his black shirt when he swiftly rose from his seat opposite to avoid catching the flickering, golden flame of the candle in-between us. Bestowed with a chaste kiss on my lips, Liam left me humming in both profound appreciation and objection, when he drew his skillful lips away from me.

  “Happy Anniversary, Liam,” I whispered back. I could feel the creases fanning out from the corners of my pale blue eyes as my once-demure smile broadened with the merging of his warm, soft hand, as he tenderly cradled the side of my face.

  If I had known that the moment he lowered himself back into the seat opposite, that my stomach was going to free fall, and the smile on my face was about to vanish with the husky, deep beckoning of a certain name, I would have kept Liam him there for a little longer.

  “Raven?”

  Craning my head to the source of the voice, I was met by a tall, coffee-skinned man, whose head was reflecting the muted, romantic glow of the restaurants lights, making a beeline to our table.

  “Jerome,” I gasped. What the fuck was he doing there? Damn fucking timing.

  When a warm, friendly hand lightly crashed down onto my shoulder, Liam did a fantastic job of making damn sure everyone knew he was pissed. Looking at him wasn’t necessary. I could feel his green-and-blue-speckled eyes hardening into emeralds and hear his jaw tightening with the shadowed sound of grinding teeth. The gust of air he ousted in an angry sigh, pasted itself to my forearm.

  “Hey, girl, I didn’t expect to see you in here.”

  Although my head was caught somewhere between cursing the rich punter to Hell and praying he would leave us alone, I found myself smiling politely. “It’s our two-year anniversary, so we’re celebrating.”

  “Oh, wow.” He sounded stunned and he looked it too, with his black eyes widening and, well, I would have said his eyebrows meeting his hairline, but he was bald as a coot. Extending an arm to Liam, he offered his congratulations. Silent and making no attempt in reciprocating the gesture, Liam simply responded with a glare, and I swear if he was telekinetic, he would have strangled the poor man with his ruby-colored tie. Jerome turned his attention back to me. “I was wondering if you’re working Friday night.”

  “That I am, Jerome. That I am.” I took a sip of the pink champagne which left a lingering taste of strawberries on my pallet and bubbles tickling my nose.

  Black eyes glistened like black sapphires, while his mouth curled into a knowing and satisfied grin. “Great, I’ll come i
n for my usual.” I nodded my acknowledgement as he turned on his heel and muttered, “See you Friday, girl.” And I was left pondering whether the tall, muscular black man could have made that statement sound any seedier.

  Emotions I felt that night sitting opposite my lover, in the most notable restaurant in town, losing myself in his loving gaze as we celebrated this monumental bridge in our relationship—which would hopefully bring about a climatic result when we got home—took a nosedive. Love, joy, and excitement curdled into embarrassment and anxiety. I hooked my hair behind my ears. Liam glowering at me was something I couldn’t fare with. Not if we weren’t having angry sex anyway. Sex was something, angry or not, that we hadn’t had in several weeks. And I was sexually frustrated beyond all comprehension.

  “Liam, please. Stop looking at me like that.” With a crumpling brow and my lips forming a firm line, I eventually surrendered to a full-on, sullen pout before taking another sip of the fizzy liquid in an eager attempt to drown the additional serving of guilt which was flooding my system. He was making that night so perfect, spoiling me rotten, being as loving as Liam DeLaney could be, and one of my punters had just gatecrashed it.

  “I’ve had it, Kady. I can’t keep doing this.”

  I lowered the flute onto the white linen table while shaking my head and shrugged my shoulders, completely baffled.

  “Kady, the first time a guy approached you regarding work, I was fine with. The second, third, and fourth, I’ll admit, I found a little hot, knowing that they could only look and I was the lucky bastard that got to touch. But enough is enough.”

  “What does that mean?” I gasped, slighted.

  Focusing his livid gaze on the empty plates before us, he scoured his hand over his mouth. “Kady.” He peeked up, holding me with hard eyes. “We haven’t had sex for weeks because I am feeling physically sick knowing that all those men, including that Jerome guy, are going home and knocking one off while fantasizing about my girlfriend’s ass grinding up against them, and her tits being shoved in their face, counting down the fucking days until they get to actually, physically experience my fucking girl doing that to them.”

  I sat overlooking the table where we’d begun a life together and journeyed through two years side by side, and I was completely dumbstruck, flabbergasted by his omission. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know he was being affected that badly. Two years, and I still continued to work Red Velvet without any regard to how he felt. A part of me felt terrible.

  “I’m done with it, Kady.” He flailed his head and spoke in earnest. “You can’t expect me to continue like this.”

  “Liam,” I murmured over the violins which were being played a few tables over. “Am I ashamed of what I do? Yes, I am.” The nodding of my head swiftly became a faint shake. “But I can’t just quit. I make more money in a night than what some people make in a week.”

  “For the love of fucking God, Kady,” he reprimanded, and I instantly recoiled at his harshness. God, he was severely pissed at me. I swore I could see his breath rising in steamy clouds as he blew out of his nose, his mouth hard. I’d never seen him so angry before. He looked like a raging bull in a china shop. I knew in that moment, it was something I wouldn’t care to see again. “Fuck the money, Kady. Do you want us to go back to how we were?”

  “Yes.” I replied without hesitation because if there was one wish I could’ve had granted, it would be to reclaim the passion which had bound us since the beginning.

  “Then choose.”

  I watched his mouth upturn scornfully and the power behind his voice had my brow, once again, creased for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, as he presented me with his ultimatum.

  “Come on, baby.” His tone softened as he rose from his seat and drew it to my side. When he lowered himself back into the velvet, my hands were promptly clutched in a clam-like grasp. His eyes softened substantially, matching the timbre of his voice. “Remember the passion? The need and want?” Dropping his head, his breath tickled my face as he resumed his DeLaney persuasion. “I miss taking you however I can get you. The moans and groans I can draw from your lips.”

  His words were gradually killing me and my resolve. The rasping vibrations which penetrated my flesh, connecting with me on a deep, needy level, made me squirm in my seat and cross my legs.

  “I miss making you come, knowing that you’re mine, knowing that I’m the only one who gets to see you vulnerable like that, and knowing I’m the one to make you vulnerable like that.”

  My eyes were searched, my silent contemplations hunted by the intensity of his gaze.

  “We can have it all back, Kady baby. Just say the word. Make me happy.”

  Make him happy? He was my boyfriend. I wanted nothing more than to do just that. I drank in a breath before slipping my hand from his and taking a mouthful of liquid courage, disguising itself as a three-hundred-dollar bottle of pink champagne. “And we go back to normal? If I do this, we go back to how we were?” I asked after swallowing, my upper lip curled slightly.

  The grip around my lingering hand tightened. Smiling, he nodded his response.

  “Okay,” I resigned. “Okay, Liam. I’ll quit Red Velvet.”

  My hair was fisted as his hand threaded through my large, bouncing curls, holding the back of my head as he wrenched me closer. His mouth crashed down onto mine, his tongue cool from the alcohol and slightly bitter from the Key lime pie as he swept it through my mouth and over my lips. A groan was torn from my throat as he pulled his lips away and braced our foreheads against each other.

  “Those groans I draw from you…” he breathed. An element of desire and approval went unveiled in his tone, while tightly screwed eyes enhanced the faint creases from their corners.

  “I hope you’ll draw more from me tonight, Liam,” I flirted.

  Cool air eradicated his warmth and bonded to my brow when he freed himself from me, leaving me feeling somewhat bereft while his large hand cradled my face. I leaned into his caress, while his eyes bore a fucking void in my mind.

  “You have no idea, baby.” He shook his head shrewdly, his mouth giving way to that haughty, conceited smirk that I loved so damn much. “You have no, fucking idea.”

  After settling the bill, Liam proffered his hand, and with a beam to rival the Cheshire cat, I unthinkingly slipped my hand into his warm possession, our fingers locking as he led us out into the chilly, nightly breeze. The weight of the world had seemingly been removed from his shoulders as he gazed down at me. I suppose in a way it had. My conceding to his wishes had made him happy, and regardless of losing sometimes anything up to nine hundred dollars a night, knowing that it was my answer and my decision to grant his wish, had me feeling like I was in Seventh Heaven.

  Smooth flesh of his mouth united with the back of my hand when he planted a kiss on my knuckles. Into his body I stepped, and despite the fact I was in heels, I rose onto my toes to eliminate the good five inches which was looming above me, to meet his lips. “Take me home, Mr. DeLaney,” I requested with seductive purpose.

  I didn’t need to ask twice.

  The hard muscle of his burly thigh was warm and tempting beneath my hand. Fingers roamed subtly to his inner thigh, tracing his inner seam, and up to the decadent bulge which lay beneath his black suit pants. “Eyes back on the road, Mr. DeLaney, you’ll get us both killed,” I chided with a roguish arch of a perfectly threaded eyebrow, when he shot me a hungry stare.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He sighed, turning his attention back to the busy road ahead. “How about we go to the movies tomorrow night?” he asked on his next breath.

  Tomorrow is Thursday. I know I told him I would quit Red Velvet, but even so, I couldn’t just walk out. I had to give Benny notice. I’d worked there for three years, built relationships with the workforce. And the man who gave me a chance deserved the level of respect which I was going to reward him with.

  “I’ve got work tomorrow, Liam.”

  The growl which left him as he wh
ipped his head to face me, in conjunction with slamming on the breaks, had me both recoiling and being thrown forward, the seatbelt burning as it tightened against my neck. “What?”

  “Liam, I am quitting, I just need to hand in my notice. I can’t leave them hanging high and dry.”

  “What, like the sleaze balls who go to those places to be left hanging after my girl cock-teases them?” he berated, regardless of my recoiling or the reasoning of my answer.

  My stomach sank to the deepest depths of the sea, and the crease in my brow had followed suit. “Liam, please, I’m being reasonable—”

  “Reasonable? Fucking reasonable?” he yelled.

  I didn’t appreciate how fast his tone of voice and demeanor was making my heart beat in…well, in something I didn’t wish to consider my boyfriend baiting in me.

  “Do you even have a fucking heart in that chest, Kady?” His pointed finger climbed from my chest up to my temple. “Do you even have a fucking brain in there? Hello?”

  I battered his assaulting hand away from my head and rubbed my temple in an attempt to sooth the pressure which lingered on the surface. A rushed stabbing sensation shot through my head, thanks to the brute force he issued with his reproach.

  “Liam, please, stop this,” I implored.

  The click of the seatbelt buckle release sounded through the BMW. His arm stretched across my middle as he pulled the release for the door. What the fuck was he doing?

  “Liam…?” I drew his name out with greatest caution.

  “Get out.”

  “Liam, please.” My hands made their way to frame his gorgeously handsome face which was rapidly being taken over by the Devil himself. “We can talk about this.” Nevertheless, my supplicant, peacemaking hands were hit away as he shouted repeatedly for me to get out. It was him, finally shoving me from the car that had me forfeiting to his outlandish demand.

  “And you will stay out there until you can respect me and my requests, and learn to have some fucking empathy.” He pointed a disdainful finger out of the open window, like he was scolding an untrained puppy. The bystanders of Dorchester launched their quizzical, prying stares upon hearing his escalating voice booming from the car.