Living in the mansion on the coast was a dream. Every morning I awoke to the roar of the ocean, and the chirping of birds from the forest. The air was cool and fresh that spring, and the sky was cloudless and blue. The patio off our bedroom was open; golden light spilled into our room and onto my belly.
I watched, transfixed, as the golden light intensified. It blinded me.
Jaxon blinked.
Our eyes connected, and I knew we were thinking the same thing.
We had to keep the light on our child, and never ever show them the dark.
Giving birth was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. I wasn’t prepared for it. I’d been so consumed by the pregnancy itself, and Jaxon’s distance, that I never had a chance to anticipate how badly it would hurt, how hard it would be, how absolutely stunning and worth all the hurt it had been, when my baby girl was placed in my arms, and my entire world came into focus.
All of my broken parts came together to form barely intact cracks, like a street that had been repaved. I had winding patchworks of broken parts in me, but at least they were starting to heal.
Every wound I had scarred over.
Every fear I had intensified.
Every ounce of love I always had locked up inside of me poured out into her blinding blue eyes. They were cerulean and shimmering, far deeper blue than mine. Her hair was black like night, and her sweet innocence stunned me. I cried looking into her eyes.
Jaxon came around the bed. His trembling hand reached out to stroke her cheek.
“Daddy?” the nurse called. “Do we have a name?”
Jaxon didn’t answer at first. He stared at his daughter with pure, unadulterated love and horror on his face. Maybe Jaxon would always look that way. Scared to love but in love nonetheless. When hurts break us, they change us. Maybe not necessarily for the worse, but they make it so much harder when we have something to be whole for. But once we’re whole, we fear the threat of breaking. Of being hurt again. Of hurting what we love the most in this world.
We hadn’t settled on a name yet because we hadn’t wanted to know the sex of the baby. We’d gone through so many names, nothing felt right until Jaxon said, “Miyel. Like My-ell. Miya and Angel combined.”
I looked at her sweet, cherubic face. “Miyel.” I started sobbing, holding her to me.
Jaxon pressed a kiss to my temple, his own tears flowing. His mouth pressed to my ear. “I love you, Miya. With all my broken shattered soul. We did it, baby. We finally did something right.”
“We have to clean her up,” the nurse said apologetically.
Jaxon glared at her and she squeaked, scampering off. He returned to his child, and his face softened to mush. I’d never seen it so soft and without hardness. He dragged his fingers delicately over her patch of ink-black hair. “She has your eyes. Thank fuck.”
I covered her ears. “Jaxon,” I hissed.
He cringed. “Right. Sorry. No more swearing. Thank… God.”
I smiled. “Much better.”
“For you, and for Miyel.” He grinned suddenly and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “You know what this means, right?”
“What?” I asked, wondering why he looked so giddy all of a sudden.
“My monster lost.”
***
I crossed my arms over my chest.
Jaxon carried Miyel in her car seat so slowly, so carefully, I’d been standing in the driveway for at least ten minutes waiting for them. We’d left the hospital a few hours ago. The drive would have taken a half-hour, except Jaxon drove below the speed limit, constantly turning around to make sure she was okay, even though I sat in the back with her.
“She needs to eat,” he stated, reaching into his pocket for his keys. He handed them to me. “Go set up. Miyel and I will be there soon.”
My glare darkened. “You have one child, Jaxon.”
He blinked. “I know, Miya. She needs to eat. You have the tits.”
I huffed in annoyance, stomping into the house and marching into the living room. The patio doors were opened, probably had been since we left in such a rush when the contractions hit. The air was full of salt and spring, and the sounds of the distant waves calmed me. Jaxon was just being protective. I didn’t have to slap him silly.
I sank onto the sofa, exhausted and sore. I set up the pillows and took off my shirt and bra, pulling her baby blanket out of her bag. Jaxon came in with her in his arms and set her down in mine. He waited until she was latched on to take a deep, exhausted breath. He sank down beside me, and then he gave me a tired grin.
He looked so different. So bright, so handsome—he looked happy for the first time in his life. I grinned back.
“We’ll get married when Miyel can walk. I want her to walk you down the aisle.”
I pressed a kiss to her cheek. Her eyes were closed, and she relaxed in my arms. “Isn’t that job for a father?” I didn’t have a father. Never had a family.
But I had Jaxon and my daughter.
What more did I need?
When Miyel opened her eyes and the blue glimmered, and Jaxon kissed my cheek, I knew they were all the family I’d ever need.
“I want our daughter to give you to me, so we’ll always be a unit.” He stood up, conversation over. Some things never changed. “Hungry?”
“Starving,” I moaned.
“When she goes down for a nap, we’ll eat, and then I’ll give you a warm bath, and massage your sore parts.” His eyes took on a hungry glint.
I missed being with him so much. “It hurts.”
“I would imagine so. You just gave birth. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
I pursed my lips. “You wouldn’t know good behavior if it jumped up and spanked you.”
“Hmm. Interesting line of thought.” He headed out of the room. “Mommy.”
“Mommy,” I repeated, staring down at Miyel Damon like she was my grounding force—because she was.
I heard the doorbell ring, the sound so loud and echoing it startled Miyel. She started crying.
Jaxon cursed, and then I heard his footsteps as he headed for the door.
There were no sounds for a few seconds, and then I heard Jaxon’s sharp inhale of shock.
I tried to calm Miyel down, but she only seemed to pick up steam, crying so loud she made me cry. I got up and walked with her through the house, cooing to her and rocking her. Jaxon still hadn’t come back by the time she’d calmed, sleeping fitfully in my arms.
I headed out with her in my arms and into the hall to find Jaxon on his hands and knees wrapped around what looked like a woman who was also on hers. I frowned, a pit forming in my stomach. Jaxon peered up at me, worry etched in his face. I could see the side of the woman’s face. When she turned her head and looked at me, I immediately recognized her. She had Jaxon’s eyes.
Dark, bottomless pits. Only where Jaxon’s were warm now, hers were still hard and cold.
Still broken.
She was shivering, and her eyes kept fluttering closed.
“She’s sick,” Jaxon said, struggling to his feet. He grabbed her shoulder tops. “She needs to get high.”
I was horrified. I clutched Miyel to my chest. Was he out of his mind? Bringing that shit around my child? He gave me a helpless look.
“No,” his mother slurred. “No more,” she sobbed. “No more. No more. Please, no more.”
“You can’t detox on my fucking floor,” Jaxon growled. “How did you find out where I lived?”
His mother sobbed harder, shivering so hard she bit down on her bottom lip. Blood seeped from her wound.
I walked Miyel back further into the hall.
I was done with the darkness. But he wasn’t.
“Your secretary,” his mother informed him. She peered up at him, so broken my eyes burned. I’d never seen someone so horribly bared before. She was a walking talking shattered woman, who’d shattered her son, who sought solace from her son. I hid my face in Miyel’s chest and cried for them both.
&nb
sp; For his mother.
For my broken prince.
For all the years it would take to heal us all.
But we would do it.
We were bigger than our suffering.
We were greater than our mistakes.
We would find a way to all embrace the light.
Because Miyel would make sure we did.
She deserved nothing short of beauty.
Jaxon picked his mother up off the floor and carried her into our bedroom. Miyel and I followed. It amazed me that she could sleep in such turmoil. Her innocence was so pure, as her father helped his mother detox from heroine was so impure.
The two clashed.
Darkness into light.
It was a war so deep and painful I feared we’d never truly win. We’d only beat it time and time again.
I was nursing Miyel in her bedroom that night in her rocking chair. Gwen Damon was taking a cool bath to shake her fever. Jaxon came in, haggard and worn, wearing an expression I hadn’t seen on his face before. Defeat.
“She needs a hospital.”
I rocked Miyel as she suckled on me, her big blue eyes twinkling. “Okay.”
He sank down to the floor across from me and gazed at me with raw, pained eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing to me?”
“I’m not apologizing to you. I’m apologizing to my daughter.”
I swallowed hard. “Your daughter’s eating right now. She doesn’t know anything’s wrong. Just like we didn’t. Only difference is we’ll replace this memory with good. We never had that. It’s okay, Jaxon. I promise.”
His sculpted lips rose into a tired smile. “You’re my angel, Miya. So beautiful. So positive. If I’d known what we would have become, I would have fallen to my knees when I met you. Instead of making you fall to yours.”
It was hard to face the regret and longing in his gaze head on. But I did. Soaking up his soul like a starving sponge. His soul was my favorite form of sustenance. “I think I needed to fall to my knees, we both did, so we could stand up together.”
“Always,” he promised.
That promise burned in his eyes.
***
Jaxon and I got married when Miyel was one-years-old. There weren’t many people at our wedding. Sam and Livie were there, and the only other person besides Jaxon, Miyel, and myself, was his mother. Sober. She still had darkness in her eyes. But so did her son. Once it got into you, it was hard to shake it free. Only option was to shower it in happy moments. Like today.
Gwen chased Miyel through the sand. Maybe it was stupid of us to subject our friends and family to this, but it made sense to us. To marry on the beach, as it snowed, and the sun shone. The waves were churning gray, and the sand was blanketed in white. Dark and light warred during our vows.
Miyel wore a dress the color of a pink rose. I did, too. Jaxon wore all black. He was handsome beyond words. And all mine.
We’d been through so much to get to this point.
We’d fallen more times than I could count.
We’d risen just as much.
Saying, “I do,” was one of the easiest things I’d ever done.
“Next time why don’t you both try getting married on an iceberg. Save us all the trouble,” Sam griped, as we had our dance together.
We’d all come back up to the coast mansion to have the reception. Jaxon and Miyel were dancing together. She stood her pink shoes on his feet as he twirled her around the room. She grinned up at him. Her father was her king. She adored him in an easy, heartwarming way. Her wavy black hair hung around her cherubic face, and her cerulean blue eyes were wide and full of adoration.
When she saw me looking, she smiled and waved. “I dance, mommy!”
I smiled back, my heart so full. “I see. You’re a much better dancer than Daddy.”
Daddy glared at me, but there was no real anger in Jaxon’s warm, decadent brown eyes. There was nothing but love. “We’ll have a dance later. See how well you keep up then.”
I blushed, hiding my face against Sam’s chest.
Sam chuckled. “Speaking of which. I bought you a wedding gift you can’t open in front of everyone. Use it later. Gwen’s taking Miyel for the weekend, right?”
I ached all over for this weekend. To be with my husband. Just us. And our bed… “Yeah, Jaxon paid for them to take a small vacation. They’re going to have a tea party at this Victorian home in town, and then they’re going to the zoo and the animal farm. They won’t be back until Sunday night.”
Sam purred. “How horny are you?”
I exhaled, aching from so deep inside, I thought I’d burst. “So fucking horny.”
He chuckled loudly. “Being a mom get in the way of you being a bad girl, doesn’t it?” He sounded falsely apologetic.
So did I. We all loved Miyel. She was the light in the room. “Shut up and dance, Master Samuel.”
He spun me, his eyes sparkling. “Yes, My Sweet.”
5. – Jaxon
So, some moments in life defined us.
I had many.
Most of them weren't beautiful. Most of them were downright horrible.
Some of them were worth every single second I spent in the darkness.
And then some moments healed us.
I'd started a new list. It went something like this.
1. Miyel
1. Miya
1. Mom
Letting go of my past happened one smile at a time. Each time Miyel looked at me, she reached into my heart and stuck a Band-aid over a crack with her little delicate fingers. My heart was a mess of bandages and scars. But I loved the sound of it beating strong in my chest.
I sank down to the ground, rechecking Miyel’s suitcase. Mom came in as I was doing so, gave me an exasperated sigh, and then fell into the rocking chair.
“You’re obsessed,” she noted.
Mom was beautiful. The moment she’d been free of her detoxing, Miyel was a few weeks old, and when Mom looked into her eyes, I swore I saw her soul take a deep, hopeful breath. They had the connection I wished I’d had with my mother. As long as she had it with my daughter, I’d take it. It meant I had a relationship with her, too.
“I worry,” I argued, zipping up the suitcase. “You have to make sure you have enough milk. She loves it before bedtime.”
“Jaxon,” Mom grumbled. “She’ll be fine.” She smiled up at me. “Your wedding was beautiful. It was all beautiful. Thank you for letting me be a part of your life. I know I don’t deserve it. And thank you even more for letting me take my granddaughter out for the weekend. We’re going to have a blast.”
Years of drug use had created holes in Mom’s memory. She and I rarely talked about the years she spent out on the street, and she never brought them up. It wasn’t like I didn’t have my own past. I knew how hard it was to pull that shit forward when all you wanted to do was keep it behind you.
I pushed to my feet and walked over to where she sat, rocking slowly. I bent and kissed her temple, putting my lips over my mother’s ear. “I forgive you.”
She exhaled sharply, but I didn’t say anything else. I winked at her and then left the room. Miya was chasing Miyel around the living room. The wedding mess still decorated the entire space. Pink confetti and champagne glasses. Miyel still wore her pink dress. I laughed at her bare feet and red cheeks. She’d discovered the world of walking and refused to stay still any longer.
“Daddy!” she squeaked, running into my legs.
“Oomph,” I grunted, bending to pick her up. “You’re all sweaty.”
She put her hand on my face. It was something I didn’t understand, but I loved it all the same. Every time we talked or as she fell asleep while I read Beauty and the Beast to her, she put her hand on my face unthinkingly, and her little fingers would trail, making random circles. Miya said it was because I spent a lot of time at work. I thought it was because she had a large chunk of my heart in those little fingers. I needed my heart to live.
I sat down with Miyel on my lap. “You’re going to be good for Grandma, right?”
She wasn’t entirely talking yet. A few words there, a few words here. She looked at me like I was talking gibberish and then started playing with the button on my black dress shirt.
Miya giggled. “Guess that’s that.” She pressed a kiss to her cheek. “We’re going to miss you.”
“Oh, brother,” Mom groaned. She reached behind the couch and grabbed up Miyel. “It’s time to go.”
My heart squeezed.
Miya bit her lip.
We hated letting her out of our sight.
We followed Mom out to her car, and I braved the brunt of her anger to strap her into her car seat. I kissed Miyel’s face all over and then whispered, “I love you,” in her ear. She touched my face and then blew a raspberry in it.
“Okay. Great. Love you, too.” I wiped off the slobber on my shirt as Miya guffawed beside me.
She was still laughing by the time they drove away. The moment they turned the corner, I let my monster come out and play.
Miya was bent over laughing, and then when she saw my face, she paused. “Oh shit,” she whispered.
“You’re my wife now.” I took a predatory step toward her.
“I’m your wife.” Her pink tongue darted out to lick her lips.
“I’m sorry we can’t have a long honeymoon together, with work and the baby, but we can make the most out of this weekend, and that’s exactly what I plan on doing.” I stood before her. My monster was in charge now. Miya was the only woman, the only soul, who braved him and won. Around her, I could be my complete and utter self. “Go into the living room and disrobe. I need a few minutes in our bedroom to set up. I’ll call you when I’m ready for you.”
Her throat bobbed. “Yes, Master,” she purred, giving me a smile that I felt all the way in my cock. “For old times’ sake.”
We needed tonight. To come together as husband and wife, dark and light—tonight would set the balance for the rest of our relationship. To be parents always, and monster and angel when we were alone. I wasn’t a man who relished in balance. But I’d also learned I wasn’t a man who was willing to lose what he had.
Dark Submissive (Dark Masters Book 2) Page 21