Knight (An Impossible Novel)

by Sykes, Julia

  I gasped. “Already?”

  “I promised I wouldn’t lie to you, didn’t I?” He ground his erection against me, his voice roughening. “All fucking day, sweetheart.”

  Chapter 24

  “James. Can I speak to you privately?” Clayton’s voice was clipped, barely clinging on to his usual calm.

  Smith and I had just emerged from the bedroom, our hair still wet from the shower. If that weren’t enough to suggest our intimacy, the glow that I could practically feel pulsing around me told Clayton all he needed to know about what we had been up to that morning. I also suspected we hadn’t been all that quiet, despite Master’s intentions.

  Smith shifted uncomfortably, but I boldly laced my fingers through his.

  “Whatever you want to say to him, you can say in front of me,” I told Clayton firmly.

  Clayton’s brows lifted slightly at my assertive bearing. I was unsurprised; the last time he had seen me, I had been practically catatonic with shock and grief. And before that, I had been shaking at the prospect of returning home with Tucker.

  Tucker.

  I flinched at the thought of him.

  Smith’s thumb pressed firm, soothing circles across the back of my hand. I took a deep breath, returning to him. I would cry about Tucker later. Right now, I had to convince Clayton to make Smith stay with me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to face what had happened to Tucker at all. I needed Smith; I needed my Master. I needed his soothing voice, his confident assurances that everything was going to be okay. Because I wouldn’t believe those words from anyone else’s lips.

  Now it was Clayton’s turn to appear uncomfortable. “Fine,” he said, eying me uneasily before turning his attention back on Smith. “You can’t do this, James. I asked you to come here to help Lydia, not…” He trailed off, his lips thinning in distaste.

  Smith tensed aggressively beside me.

  “Smith and I are going to be together,” I said before Smith could snap back at his friend.

  Clayton’s brows rose further at the sound of his real name on my lips. Then they drew together in disapproval of my declaration.

  “Lydia,” he said my name slowly, as though trying to reason with a child. “That’s really not appropriate. I know you’ve been through a lot, and, given the circumstances,” he shot a censorious glace at Smith, “you think you have to stay with him.”

  “I don’t give a damn about the circumstances,” I said sharply. “I don’t have to do anything. I’m doing what I want. And I want to be with Smith. You can choose to disapprove, if that’s what you want. But honestly, I don’t think you do want that. You seem like a nice guy, Clayton. You wouldn’t want your friend to be unhappy. And – as you said – I’ve been through a lot. Do you really want me to be unhappy?”

  Clayton stared at me, dumbfounded, his jaw working as he struggled to process my words. I could practically see him weighing our happiness against what he thought was right.

  Smith chuckled and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “I think you broke Clayton’s moral compass, sweetheart. Fascinating.” He turned his grin on his friend. “Isn’t she great?”

  In the wake of Smith’s pleased, proud smile, Clayton’s eyes cleared, his decision made. “Of course I want you to be happy, Lydia.” His lips quirked up as he studied my confident bearing. “And watching you put Smith through the wringer will definitely make me very happy.”

  “Thank you, Clayton. For everything.” My voice lowered, turning more serious. “I know you might have thought you did the wrong thing in letting me stay with Smith, but it was the best thing that could have happened to me. I couldn’t have found myself again without him, even if the FBI had figured out my identity and reunited me with my family. What he did for me – what you both did for me – was exactly what I needed. You weren’t wrong in recognizing that I needed a form of treatment the doctors couldn’t give me.”

  Clayton nodded in solemn acknowledgment, his expression grateful. “Thanks, Lydia. I needed to hear that. Smith here’s not the only one who’s been beating himself up about what happened with you.”

  I shot him a teasing smile. “Well, now you can both – How did you put it? – stop angsting like teenage girls.”

  Smith’s laughter filled the room, joined by Clayton’s half a second later.

  And just like that, the tension was gone. Clayton had needed my assurance that he had done the right thing almost as badly as Smith had needed to hear it.

  Smith seated me on a stool at the kitchen counter while he and Clayton shuffled around the small, combined living room/kitchen space getting breakfast together. Now that I could take inventory of the safe house, I realized just how minimal and insulated the space was. There were no windows in the living room, and the only other rooms were the ensuite bedroom where Smith and I had stayed and a second bathroom close to the entrance of the apartment. The only point of entry was the front door. I might have felt claustrophobic, if it weren’t for the sense of relief at not being within the sights of a single window. So long as I kept Smith here with me, he would be safe.

  With that, my thoughts returned to Tucker, and my stomach twisted painfully. I set my spoon back into my cereal bowl without taking a single bite.

  “Lydia?” Smith said my name questioningly as he came to stand beside me. His arm was instantly around my waist, and I automatically leaned into him.

  “What will happen now?” I asked quietly. “About… About Tucker?”

  “We’re still looking for leads on the sniper,” Clayton told me gently.

  My eyes burned up into his as my rage tore through me. “‘The sniper’?” I repeated hotly, accusatorily. “You know who it was.”

  “Lydia, we have to consider this from all angles,” Clayton told me calmly. “Otherwise, we might miss something.”

  “You might miss something if you waste time looking for anyone else!” I snapped.

  Smith’s hand rubbed up and down my arm, calming me. “She’s right,” he told Clayton evenly. “It was him. The fucker hacked her TV right before Tucker was shot.”

  Clayton’s brows drew together. “Hacked? How? How do you know it was the man who abducted you, Lydia?”

  “I don’t share my toys.”

  I shuddered and leaned into Master more closely. He cupped my head in his hand, holding me against his chest. He turned a glare on his friend.

  “We’re not having a goddamn debriefing right now, Vaughn. Suffice it to say, it was footage only he would have. It’s not particularly difficult to hack a Smart TV, but we already know he’s good with tech. We’ll keep pursuing that angle and see if we can trace the hack.”

  We?

  I couldn’t allow him to leave the safe house.

  “Please stay here, Smith,” I begged, fisting my hands in his shirt.

  The firm, determined set to his jaw told me he didn’t have the slightest intention of hiding out from that Bastard. He wanted him dead. By his hand.

  Well, I wasn’t above using underhanded tactics. I turned my beseeching gaze on Clayton.

  “The recording…” The words stuck in my throat as my mind refused to verbalize what I had seen. “The bullet wasn’t meant for me. He killed Tuck for being with me. He’ll kill Smith if you let him out in the field. Smith has to stay here with me.”

  Master’s low growl rumbled against my ear where it was pressed to his chest. “Don’t even try it, girl. I don’t take orders from Vaughn.”

  “No,” Clayton agreed coolly. “You don’t.” He shot a pointed glance at me. “But do you really think the field is where you’re needed most right now, James?”

  Master stiffened beside me, but he made the mistake of looking down into my terrified eyes.

  He let out a long breath, the tension leaving him as his fingers began to work through my damp hair.

  “Goddamn it, Vaughn,” he grumbled. “Fine. I’ll stay here today. But we’re going to discuss this later.”

  His stern expression wasn
’t meant for his friend.

  One day. I had one day to convince him to stay away from the investigation. I clung to him more tightly, physically demonstrating my need for his nearness.

  He tore his gaze from mine.

  “Goddamn it.”

  I could practically feel his need to hunt the man who had abused me thrumming through his body. But he was my Master, and according to his philosophy that meant my needs came before his own. His most important job was to take care of me, mentally as well as physically. Right now, I needed him to keep me sane far more than I needed that Bastard to be brought to justice. Especially if Master’s involvement in the latter put him at risk.

  Master glanced down at my untouched breakfast.

  “Eat,” he ordered shortly.

  I meekly complied, deciding it was best not to show any further defiance after daring to collude with Clayton to keep Master out of the field.

  Clayton made a quick exit, and I wasn’t sure if it was because he needed to get to the office or because it seemed likelier with every passing minute that Smith would take out his frustrations on his friend.

  “For someone who’s happy, you’re sure doing a great impression of being a miserable asshole, Smith,” Clayton remarked as he stepped out of the apartment.

  He was gone before Smith could snap a retort. His jaw ticked as he ground his teeth together. Smith evidently didn’t like it when Clayton got in the last dig.

  The man I had chosen as my Master could be extremely ornery. But he was a good man, and I loved his ferocity. As always, his fierceness made me feel safe when I was with him. And now that I knew him better, I could tell when his anger was genuine and when it was actually affectionate grumbling.

  “What’s so funny, girl?” He asked suspiciously when he caught me smiling at him.

  “You’re cute when you’re blustering,” I told him coquettishly.

  The shocked expression on his face was priceless, and my smile widened. I had managed to render Master speechless.

  My self-satisfied smile slipped as his own hard-edged grin cut into me. He closed the short distance between us faster than I could process, and I gasped as his hand closed around my throat. He didn’t squeeze, but his grip was firm. Rather than being angered by my flippancy, he seemed thoroughly amused.

  “So my sub thinks she can be a little brat, does she?” He asked softly. My breath was suddenly coming in shallow pants as his sparking eyes became my whole world. He sighed as though he was very put-upon. “I can’t allow that kind of behavior, girl. But I think you already knew that.”

  I shivered as I automatically ceded everything to him in the space of a second. When I was caught by him like this, my mind ensnared by his power just as thoroughly as he trapped my throat in his firm hold, everything else could fall away. I didn’t have to be worried or sad or scared. I couldn’t be any of those things, because Master would take them all upon himself. He demanded that I give him all of myself in my submission, and that included all of the ugly things as well as the beautiful.

  But imparting them to him necessitated that they surface within me, and a warm tear slid from the corner of my eye as I stared up at him, unblinking.

  His hungry smile faded, but his grip on my neck didn’t ease. He tenderly brushed the wetness from my cheek as he kept me firmly fixed in his power.

  “Talk to me, sweetheart.” The words were gently spoken, but it was a command.

  “I…” All of the bad things tangled together, a knotted mess of ugliness that had become rooted in my being. “Tucker.” His name left my lips before my mind could even recognize the source of the pain that was flaying my soul.

  Master’s grip shifted so that he was cupping the nape of my neck, and his other arm hooked under my knees. He lifted me from the hard wooden stool and carried me to the couch. His eyes never once broke from mine as he settled down, keeping me cradled against his chest. I burrowed into his warmth, my own skin suddenly pebbled from the chill that had sunk into my flesh.

  “Tell me about Tucker.”

  His tone was low, soothing. The cadence of his even breathing against me as I stared into his eyes was almost hypnotic. Master wanted to know about Tucker. Obediently, I fell into the memories. Words left me in a steady, quiet stream as my lips gave shape to the images in my head.

  I re-lived my history with Tucker: the day we first met, the hours spent with him jamming on his guitar while I drew, his proposal, the wedding, the miscarriage, the bitterness, the resentment. It was like when I had accessed my memories of torture during therapy, but this time Master was real, solid. I didn’t have to close my eyes to remember the comfort of his embrace, because he was right there with me. He held me while I faced the love and the joy and the pain that had been my life with Tucker, fully acknowledging all that I had shared with my husband, all that I had lost when the life had left his eyes as he lay bleeding on the living room floor.

  I told Master about my conflicted feelings when I had caught Tucker kissing Becs, about our last kiss in front of Seurat’s Seated Woman with a Parasol, about the morning we had released one another with a pledge of lifelong friendship.

  My chest was heaving by the time I recounted the memory of his death in vivid detail, and Master held me as I choked out Tucker’s final moments. Even once I finished speaking, Master remained silent, allowing me to pour out my grief in a flood of tears. He siphoned off what I couldn’t bear to hold within me, and he took it into himself.

  “Thank you for sharing with me, sweetheart,” Master said as the heaving of my chest subsided. “Tucker sounds like a really great guy.”

  I didn’t miss his use of the present tense. He was acknowledging that Tucker would always be a wonderful person, and that Bastard could never take that legacy away from him. I nodded against Master’s chest in quiet thanks.

  “What do you think you’ll do now?” He asked gently. “You said you were going to apply to get your BFA. Is that still something you want?”

  I hesitated. Yes, it was still my dream to pursue my art. And I wasn’t about to let that Bastard take anything else from me. But at the same time, I didn’t think I could bear to be in Chicago. Not for a while, at least. I needed to rebuild my life, to start the life that had never been mine. Maybe that life had never been meant to be lived in Chicago.

  “Yes. I still want to study art. But not at Notre Dame. Maybe I’ll apply to Pratt or the School of Visual Arts in New York. See if I can get in.”

  I met Smith’s eyes, anxious to judge his reaction. Fleeing the darkness of my past in Chicago wasn’t the only reason I wanted to live in New York. I wanted to be close to him.

  My heart leapt when he grinned. “Excellent. Saves me the trouble of requesting a transfer to the Chicago office. And I won’t have to rebuild my reputation on the BDSM scene from scratch. The subs of New York would be devastated if Master S moved away.”

  I would have frowned at his mention of other adoring submissives – of which I was sure there were many. But that little flare of jealousy was completely overridden by the shock of his casual mention that he had planned to move to Chicago.

  “You…” I began incredulously. “You were thinking of moving to Chicago? Why?”

  He shot me an admonishing look. “You’re a smart girl, Lydia. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

  My mouth opened and closed, my mind still struggling to comprehend the enormity of what he was saying.

  He sighed, shaking his head at me slightly. “I’ve told you, Lydia: I’m keeping you. And that means I’m keeping you close. So,” he switched gears, as though that part of the conversation was settled. “We’ll have to arrange to get your stuff shipped to New York.”

  “But I don’t have a place yet,” I protested. “I don’t even know if any of the schools in New York will accept me.”

  Master looked at me as though I was being very slow on the uptake. “You’re moving in with me, sub. There’s more than one art school in the City. Hell, with your talent, you
don’t need to take classes.” He shrugged. “If they don’t accept you, it’s their loss.”

  “Just like that?” I asked faintly. “I’m moving in with you?”

  “Yes.” Then he blinked, his brows drawing together. “I’m sorry. That’s not an order, sweetheart. Of course it’s your choice. Do you want to live with me?”

  “Yes!” I answered quickly, before he could change his mind.

  He beamed at me. “Good. It would have been terribly tedious for me to pretend to let you get your way.”

  “What?” I asked, confused.

  He raised his brows at me. “Do you really think I would have let you spend one night away from my bed? It has some very handy built-in restraints for keeping rebellious subs where I want them, in case you don’t recall.”

  I raised my hands in a dramatic show of capitulation. “Okay. You’ve charmed me into it. I surrender.”

  His hand suddenly fisted in my hair. “Damn right you do.”

  His lips claimed mine as he began to harden beneath me.

  Master obviously intended to continue making the most of our day together.

  Chapter 25

  I had been confined to the safe house for three days, but I didn’t mind being imprisoned one bit. Not with Smith as my cellmate. To my great relief, he had consented to stay with me rather than returning to the field. After many, many muttered expletives.

  Clayton checked in with us every evening, and it was always reassuring to see his broad, easy smile, even if he didn’t bring news that the investigation was getting somewhere. The Bastard was as elusive as ever.

  Today, I was less pleased to see Clayton. The reason for his presence beside me now made me ache inside. He and Smith were escorting me to Tucker’s funeral.

  Spending hours in Master’s arms had helped distract me from my pain, had even helped me begin to heal the gaping hole in my heart where Tucker had once been. It was still raw and tender, but it was no longer hemorrhaging my life’s blood. So long as Smith was there to support me, I could make it through.