Heir to a Dark Inheritance

by Maisey Yates

  Jada’s eyes widened as she finished buckling Leena in her high chair and took a seat across from him. “Really? And what about your…social life?”

  She meant women. He could tell by the frost in her tone. He didn’t know why, but he found her jealousy gratifying. “I will find a way to manage it discreetly. It will not be a problem for either of you.”

  “I see.” She looked down into her coffee. “What made you change your mind?”

  “What you said the other day about your father. About all the difference he made to you. About how his presence taught you what sort of treatment to expect.” He looked at Leena, so small and innocent, her cheeks round. And she looked at him, a smile spreading over her face. He’d never really paused to look at her before. Not once in the past few weeks. Not closely.

  Now that he did, he felt like his chest was too full. Like his heart would be crushed with the pressure building there.

  “I would not want Leena to choose a man like me,” he said. He thought back to the reports he’d seen today. No, he’d never been the sort of man to press unwanted advances on a woman, but he still felt disturbed by it all. By the thought of Leena as a woman who would have to go out in the world and deal with men who wanted to hurt her. Or even men who didn’t want to hurt her, but might, as they used her for their own selfish ends.

  “I wouldn’t want to teach her to expect that the man in her life should be absent, that he should be concerned with his own well-being, rather than hers. I would not want her to believe that she should accept money and physical comfort over love.”

  “Alik…you can give her more than you think. I know you can.”

  “I don’t know it,” he said, the pressure in his chest growing stronger, more unbearable. “I know what she should have. I know what’s important. I see it, I understand it, but I don’t know how to feel it.”

  “That’s not true, Alik. I think you feel more than you let yourself.”

  “Such confidence in a man you don’t want touching you,” he bit out.

  She looked down. “How was your meeting?”

  “Neatly done, Jada. And my meeting was unsuccessful. I turned him down.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t work for a man like him. I don’t know why. Only that I can’t.”

  She looked up at him, golden eyes shimmering. “I know why.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  “Because you do feel.”

  “Is that what you call this?”

  “You’re already changing, Alik. Two weeks ago you wanted to drop us off in Paris and never see her. Two weeks ago you thought she needed a nanny, not a mother. And now you see the difference. Now you see what she needs.”

  “I still have no idea what I’m doing.”

  “I don’t, either. Still, caring, even if it’s confusing, has to be better than spending two weeks with Leena and not changing the way you feel about her.”

  “All I know is that I want her to have everything, and I fear I don’t have the ability to give it to her.”

  “All parents feel that way,” she said, reaching across the table and putting her hand over his. A comforting touch. Not sexual, which was the only way he was used to being touched by women. Not violent, which was the only way he’d ever been touched by men.

  He couldn’t recall ever receiving comfort from another person before. Two weeks ago he would have said he didn’t need it. In this moment, he felt like he did.

  Perhaps he was changing. And he had no idea what that might mean. For the future, for the way he handled his life.

  “Then I suppose I’m partway to the point I need to be.”

  “Worrying?”

  He nodded. “I’ve never worried much,” he said. “Because in my experience, worry fixes nothing. When I was starving, worrying about where food would come from wouldn’t deliver it to me—it required action. Worry wouldn’t serve me on the battlefield—it would distract me. And yet I find with her…I worry.”

  Emotion was coming easier these days. Odd, after a life spent chasing feeling, it would come so suddenly now. Anger with Jada. Rage at LaMont. Worry for Leena.

  “You worry because you care, don’t you?” he asked, looking at Leena again, watching her attempting to pick up a slippery piece of melon.

  “Yes, Alik,” Jada said, her voice choked. He looked at her then, at the moisture glistening in her eyes. “That’s why you worry.”

  Jade closed the door to Leena’s room and let out a long breath. Leena hadn’t been that nasty about going to bed in a long time. But tonight, she’d been more interested in gripping the crib rails and bouncing on the mattress than she’d been in sleeping.

  And the mostly adorable hyperactivity had turned into wailing when Jada had shut off the light and insisted it was time to settle down. All attempts at rocking and singing had been resisted bitterly.

  But her wailing had eventually turned to whimpering, which had turned into reluctant sleep. And Jada was now way past ready for bed and on her way to whimpering too.

  She started down the hall and stopped when she saw a dark shadow separate from the wall and start moving toward her.

  “Alik?”

  “She was upset?”

  “Just having a princess fit because she didn’t want to go to sleep, that’s all.”

  She could see the tension leave his silhouette. He drew closer, a shaft of moonlight coming in from outside illuminating him. Shirtless, a pair of athletic pants low on his hips. He was a beautiful man.

  Beautiful, rough, broken. And he called to her. Made her heart beat fast, made her body ache. She’d been intimate with him—no matter what he might want to call it—and she knew him now. Her body knew his.

  Though, she didn’t feel like she’d explored him enough. Not to the degree she wanted to.

  And you won’t.

  Stern, sensible Jada chimed in, the voice of reason. Which was a nice thing to have on hand because her body wasn’t in a reasonable place. Her body was just remembering how it had felt to be near him, to have him kiss her, to have him take her to the peak and push them both over the edge.

  She blinked. “You couldn’t sleep?”

  “I was concerned.”

  “Why didn’t you come into the room?”

  He lifted one shoulder, a casual gesture, but she knew him well enough by now to know it was anything but casual. Alik feeling concern for another person wasn’t usual, or casual. “I didn’t feel it was my place.”

  “Of course it’s your place, Alik. You’re her father.”

  He nodded slowly then lifted his arm, drew his hand over his hair and let out a sigh. “I feel like you have something with her. That you understand things I do not.”

  “You aren’t the only one to feel that way.”

  “You make me feel almost normal,” he said, his tone dry.

  “Nobody feels like they know what they’re doing with their own kids, Alik. We just sort of hope for the best.”

  “Even you?”

  “Yes. Even me. Especially me. Deciding to adopt while I was single was something I struggled with. Because I always believed that a child should have a mother and father.”

  “Why didn’t you and your husband have any children?”

  Jada still felt protective of Sunil when it came to that subject. His family had started asking when they would start having children from the moment they’d gotten married and hadn’t let up until his death.

  She’d never told them, never told anyone why in their six years of marriage they hadn’t managed to conceive. It had hit at his pride. That he could provide for her financially, but couldn’t give her something she wanted so badly had been the source of so much pain for him.

  No matter what she’d said, he could never really believe that she didn’t resent it. And eventually, he hadn’t wanted to talk about it at all.

  “We couldn’t,” she said. “We couldn’t have children. I mean…he couldn’t. But we were married and that made it us who coul
dn’t.”

  “And you decided not to pursue artificial means of conception?”

  Jada almost laughed. Leave it to Alik to ask the most personal, inappropriate questions and not have a clue he was being personal or inappropriate. “My husband wasn’t comfortable with the idea of me carrying another man’s baby. And frankly, he wasn’t all that interested in the adoption idea, either.”

  “Even though you wanted children?”

  “He did, too. But…but he hadn’t worked through the disappointment of the fact that it wouldn’t happen for us the way he’d imagined. He took it personally.”

  “See what emotion gets you? Logically, he should have just made sure you could have the children you wanted regardless of how.”

  “You say that, Alik, but even you were all about the blood connection.”

  “I know. But I see…I see now that it’s not the blood connection that builds the strongest bond. You…you effortlessly connect with her and I struggle.”

  “But you do connect. You have.”

  He nodded slowly. “I turned down working with LaMont because he was covering up the fact that one of his top execs is sexually harassing female employees. And all I could think of was that if some man did that to Leena I would…I fear I would kill them, Jada, and I don’t mean that figuratively. I would. I could.”

  “Alik…”

  “Emotion…it is not logical. It is inconvenient. It makes it almost impossible to…live with myself.”

  He let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl and leaned against the wall, his head tilted back. He needed something. Emotional comfort, emotional connection, and she knew he would never allow it. Would never recognize it.

  She wanted to give it. Wanted to tell him everything would be okay. She wanted to…

  What she wanted to do, what she really wanted, was to touch him. Because he understood the physical. He understood touch and sex. It was how he connected. She wanted to cut through the confusion and give him something familiar. And at the same time, she didn’t want to be familiar. Didn’t want to be just another body.

  She wanted to reach him. To help him.

  If she was really honest—really, really honest—she just wanted to touch him.

  But she wasn’t going to be honest, because honesty might stop her. And she didn’t want to stop.

  This could be okay. If she kept it separate from emotion, like he did. Kept it separate from marriage, then it might be okay.

  She took a step toward him and put her fingertips on his chest, on the start of his tattoo, the one over his heart. The one he’d gotten before he’d risked his life to rescue his friend, the man he thought of as a brother.

  His hand shot up and caught her arm, held it away from his body. “Be careful,” he bit out. “Because I swear if you touch me again, I will have you naked and in my bed before you can protest.”

  “I’m not going to protest so you won’t be able to test the theory.” She said it with a lot more boldness than she felt, but she realized that she’d made the decision the moment she’d taken a step toward him.

  She wanted him again. If they left it at the night at the opera, it would never truly be over. It had been too fast. Too intense. A memory that was scorched around the edges, covering it all in the hazy smoke of fantasy. There was no way it had been as good as she remembered. No way it had been so all-consuming, so soul-destroying.

  She lifted her other hand and cupped his cheek, sliding her thumb over the rough shadow of stubble that covered his jaw. “I want you,” she said.

  “Really?” he bit out. “Because I seem to recall you running from me as though I had forced you the last time you begged me to touch you. I wasn’t a fan of that.”

  “I’m not going to run this time,” she said, her voice trembling. Even as she said it, she wasn’t sure she could keep her promise.

  Because the closer she got to Alik, the less hazy her memory became. The longer she left her palm on his face, against the heat of his skin, the more he burned into her. And she was shaking, terrified that being with him again would reduce her entirely to ash. She was shaking, afraid of what she felt. Of what she intended to do.

  But she couldn’t turn back, either.

  “Promise,” he said, leaning in, his lips skimming her cheek. He nipped her ear, lightly, leaving behind a light sting that he soothed with the tip of his tongue. “Promise me,” he repeated.

  “I promise,” she said.

  “Tell me you want me.”

  “I want you, Alik.”

  It was enough for him. It must have been. He pulled her up against his chest, kissing her hard, deep. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him to her, kissing him back, matching his desperation, his hunger.

  The beast he woke up inside of her was something she’d never known about before. The desire, the need, from a part of her she hadn’t been aware existed.

  She knew about desire, she knew about pleasure, but this…this was new. This need that verged on pain, this hunger that bordered on insanity. She felt like he was air, like having him was essential, something she couldn’t live without.

  It made it impossible for her to think. And that thoughtlessness was bliss.

  “Bedroom,” she panted as he kissed down her throat, his teeth scraping her collarbone.

  “Mine or yours.”

  “Whichever is closer.”

  “Yours,” he said, picking her up and carrying her down the hall. She wrapped her arms around his neck, awed by his strength, which, she was sure, was the reason he’d done it. That and to make her feel tiny and feminine. Both had worked.

  He pushed the bedroom door open and set her down, then slammed it shut behind them. He flicked the light on, a wicked grin on his face.

  “What?” she asked. “Why did you turn the lights on?”

  “Didn’t you say that you’ve had sex with the lights on?”

  “Yes, but…” Just not quite so purposefully.

  “I want to see you,” he said, pushing his pants down his narrow hips. “It’s a priority this time around.”

  Her jaw slackened a little bit when he was naked in front of her. Completely. She’d seen most of him, but not all of him at one time. He was utter masculine perfection, hard-cut lines of muscle, deep scars that were marring his skin, a map of his life, marks that had been inflicted on him by those who had meant him harm.

  And the ink on his skin, marks he’d chosen for himself.

  “They say men are visual,” she said, “but I’m feeling pretty visual myself right now.”

  “As am I,” he said, skipping over the compliment. “Show yourself to me.”

  Her breath shortened, became labored. It was such a strange way to put it. Evidence of the fact that English wasn’t his first language. But it meant more this way, too. She was showing herself to him.

  A part of herself she had never seen or known about. A part no one had ever seen or known about. Deeper. More sensual. The only question was if she was brave enough. Not simply to uncover it for him, but to reveal it to herself.

  Maybe if she’d had a choice, she wouldn’t have done it. But there was no choice. This thing, this desire, it was bigger than she was. And tonight, it won over everything else. Over reserve, over fear.

  She slowly peeled her top over her head, leaving her breasts bare for him. She shivered, nerves and the chill in the air raising goose bumps on her skin, arousal making her nipples pucker.

  She pushed her pants down her legs, and her panties with them. “Just for you,” she said. And she meant it. This part of her, this woman who would make love in a box at the opera, she was just for Alik. Somehow, he made her different.

  Later, she would worry about it. She might even regret it. But not now.

  “I am a lucky man.” He crossed to her, cupping her cheek, the gesture tender, at odds with the heat and intent burning in his eyes.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his body against hers, pulled him in for
a kiss. Skin to skin. She needed it. Needed him, his touch. Needed him to push her past the point of reason, past the point of thought.

  He’d done it before, with such ease, and she needed it again.

  He gripped her thighs and lifted her so that her legs were wrapped around his waist and he was supporting all of her weight. It brought the heart of her against the hard ridge of his erection, sending a spark of pleasure through her, deep and all-consuming.

  And she was there. Beyond thought. Beyond anything other than feeling.

  He kissed her neck, whispered things in her ear. Husky, dark words. Some she understood, some she didn’t, but the intent didn’t need translation.

  “Take me,” she whispered, broken, needy. Alik would fix her. He would answer the ache inside of her body. The one that went deeper than the physical.

  He lay down on the bed, bringing her down on top of him. She started to adjust her position, to take him inside of her body. His hands tightened at her hips. “Stop.”

  “What?” she panted.

  “Condom.”

  “Where?” she asked.

  “Drawer.”

  “Oh.” She hadn’t looked in her nightstand drawer since arriving in Paris. And there they were. She might feel weird about it later, might feel bad that Alik had protection everywhere, because clearly he was the sort of man who did what he wished when the mood hit. But for now, she was just grateful.

  She handed the protection to him and he applied it, then she moved back where she’d been and lowered herself onto him. Slowly, as slowly as she could manage, enjoying the tease. Enjoying the pained look on his face.

  She liked that she had the power to torture him. To make him sweat and shake. It made her feel strong. It made her feel beautiful. Like a woman. A woman who was enough for the man she was with. A man who felt no inhibition, no issues with himself or who he was, or his ability to satisfy her.

  Being with Alik was like waking up. Like bursting through the surface of the water after being under for too long. She hadn’t even realized she was suffocating.

  He gripped her hips tightly, thrust up inside of her. Her head fell back and she put her hands on his shoulders, rode him, found the rhythm that worked for both of them.