Addicted

by Charlotte Featherstone

  He closed his eyes, his hand fisted against his bent knee. “I never, ever wanted you to see me like that. If I could, I would take it all back, even sacrifice those hours we spent loving each other, if I could just wash those memories of me out of your mind.”

  “Don’t,” she pleaded, reaching for his hand. “Do not worry about me, Lindsay. Please—”

  “I want to stop,” he blurted, “but I…I can’t,” he said, his voice catching. “I can’t stop. Even now, knowing you’ve seen me at my worst, knowing how ashamed it makes me feel, I still find myself looking at the tray, at the pipe. I’m craving it, Anais. Dying for it, that feel of the pipe in my mouth and the smoke in my lungs.”

  The honesty he spoke with tore at her heart. When she had told Wallingford and Vallery to lock her in the conservatory with Lindsay, she thought she knew what she was dealing with. Now she wasn’t so certain.

  “I need it,” he said through trembling lips. “It’s gone from my body and now I’m shivering and my nose is running,” he sniffed. “I no longer rule the opium, Anais. It rules me. I have to have it.”

  “Then have it.”

  He looked up at her, his eyes glowing with tears. “You have to leave.”

  “I’m not leaving, Lindsay. I promised you.”

  “Why do this when there is nothing left?” he roared. Jumping up, he paced the width of the room like a caged animal. “Why make me quit when there is nothing to live for?”

  “What do you mean? You have a full life ahead of you. A brilliant future in finances and parliament and bettering the country for those who are not as fortunate as us to be born into the aristocracy.”

  “Why can’t you see,” he raged, “that the only thing I could possibly quit for is you?”

  Silence hung heavy between them. “Do not stop for me. Quit for you, Lindsay.”

  “I can’t. Not right now, Anais. I know I have no right to say this to you, not after what I’ve done, but the truth is, the only thing that could possibly bring me out of the darkness is a chance that at the end of the tunnel I might find you waiting there in the light.”

  Anais cupped his face, forcing him to look at her. “I will be there, Lindsay. I swear to you, I’ll be there, waiting.”

  His bones felt as though they were trying to escape the confines of his skin. He was sweating, yawning, his skin was covered in goose bumps. And the cramps, Christ, his stomach was roiling, the pain a constant reminder of what he needed.

  He was restless, his mind churning with the craving for opium.

  “Tell me how it will happen,” Anais asked.

  Lindsay closed his eyes as she threaded her fingers in his hair. He was lying with his head in her lap, trying to stave off the ever-increasing need for opium.

  “It will peak in about three days,” he mumbled, trying not to think of the hell awaiting him. “It will not be pretty, Anais. I am regretting my selfish actions now. You should not be here.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she whispered. “Why don’t you try to sleep, Lindsay?” she suggested as she rubbed his temples in soothing circles. “I will be here, whenever you need me.”

  “I need you now,” he said, feeling another ache in his gut that brought tears to his eyes. “Yet I am afraid of what I might do. I have not been without the opium for many years, Anais. I…I don’t even know who I am without it.”

  He reached for her hand and held it in his trembling one. She had bathed in the spring bath, in a soap scented with jasmine. Her skin was soft, fragrant, and he held her palm to his chest, holding her so tight he was certain her skin would be red. With his fingers, he traced the delicate veins of her hand, watching as her fingers laced with his.

  “Can you endure this, Anais?” he asked, looking up at her. He was crying, silent tears that trickled down his cheeks. “Christ, can you stand to see me like this, pathetic and weak?”

  She brushed the tears away, her strength never wavering as she held on to his hand. “I believe in you, Lindsay.”

  He cried in earnest then. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he buried his face into her belly and cried like an infant. “I’m so sorry, Anais, that I am this sort of man. You deserve so much better, and to hold you hostage like this, to force you to stay, to make you promise—”

  “Shh,” she whispered, rubbing his back. “I am not a hostage here.”

  He looked up at her through the shimmering tears in his eyes. “I do not deserve you, but I know I cannot endure this without you.”

  “Lindsay, you deserve so much more. In time you’ll realize that.”

  He didn’t believe her, but he didn’t argue with her, either. He just lay there with his head in her lap, the feel of her fingers raking through his hair as he looked up at her. He tried to think of the future and couldn’t even begin to see that far. He saw only as far as the table beside the divan that had once housed his opium.

  “I wish I could take back that night, Anais, when I used the hashish.”

  She covered his mouth with her fingers. “I wish I could take back my rash decision to lie about going to France. But thinking that way will only eat us up inside.”

  He nodded, looked away. They were silent a long while when Anais finally looked down at him and asked, “What are you thinking of?”

  His gaze flickered to hers. “Truth?” She nodded. “Opium.” Her eyes saddened, even as he felt the resolve in her strengthen. “I can’t speak false words to you, Anais. The opium, procuring, smoking it, being lost in its powers is never far from my mind. No matter how enticing the thought of you might be, it is never enough to completely drive away the craving.”

  “I understand.”

  He nodded, knowing she did understand. He was tired, his mind active with the need to smoke. She was rubbing his temples, and her belly cushioned him. He snuggled deeply into her and closed his eyes, trying to find the inner strength and conviction he had once possessed.

  Then he drifted off, trying not to fear what would be lying in wait for him when he awoke.

  Anais awoke in the dark to the sound of Lindsay pacing along the tile floor. He was breathing hard and swearing as he stopped to rifle through the drawers of the table.

  “What have they done with the opium?” he growled, tossing the empty canister to the floor. It landed with a crack on the tiles. “Gone. All gone,” he growled.

  “Lindsay, come back to bed.”

  “Where is the goddamn opium?” He had all but roared that question. “Jesus Christ, you cannot expect me to just stop,” he panted. “Please,” he begged, coming to her, pulling her from the divan where they had slept. “It’s not safe, Anais, to just stop. I’m crawling out of my skin with wont for it.”

  “It is the only way.”

  “It’s not the only way,” he cried. He pushed her aside and started searching through the drawers once more. The delirium was setting in. It was far more frightening than Anais had thought. What was even more alarming was the fact that she knew it was just the beginning.

  “Let me out,” he commanded as he whirled on her. “Just for a few minutes. I need out, need air.”

  “There is plenty of air in this room, Lindsay.” She went to light the candlewick so she could see him.

  “Don’t.” His voice seemed disembodied in the darkness. “I don’t want you to see me like this…hungry, needy, feral,” he growled as he resumed his pacing. “Just…call for Vallery and let me out. I won’t be gone long. I swear it. I’ll come back.”

  “Lindsay, you said you would try.”

  “I will. Tomorrow. But tonight…tonight I need it, Anais. I…I can taper off. Come off it slowly. You can’t expect me to just stop like this, Anais. I’m going out of my damned mind! I need opium and I need it now!”

  “If you walk away from this, Lindsay, you’ll lose everything.”

  “Including you, I suppose,” he snapped as he threaded his hands through his hair and resumed his pacing. “Is that what you mean by that? You’ll walk away and never look back. So I
am to choose,” he snarled, “which one I need most. You or opium.”

  “Lindsay, if you let it win tonight, you’ll never conquer it.”

  “I don’t want to conquer it,” he yelled, whirling on her. “Don’t you understand? I want it. I want it in my mouth, coursing through my blood. I need it!”

  “I know it’s hard—”

  “Hard? Christ, what the hell do you know about it? You’re not the one suffering through it. Oh, God, Anais, please. Don’t you understand? Don’t you know how much my body cries out for it?”

  “I understand, Lindsay.”

  “Then call for Vallery. Please. Call him.”

  She nearly caved in when she heard the pain, the anguish in his voice. He was hurting, physically and emotionally, and she didn’t know how to help him.

  “Anais?”

  “No, Lindsay.”

  He stormed over to the door and rattled the handle. “Call him.”

  Anais strode to the door and reached his hand. “No, Lindsay.”

  “I said, call Vallery,” he shouted.

  “Come away, Lindsay.”

  “I said call Vallery, Anais, or…or I will…”

  “You will not hurt me,” she murmured, taking his hand and easing it from the doorknob.

  “I want out of this fucking room!”

  “I know,” she said, taking him into her arms.

  “Oh, God, it hurts,” he cried, holding on to her as he let his head drop against her shoulder. “You have no idea how much, Anais.”

  If it was anything like watching him go through it, Anais thought, it was more pain than the devil himself could inflict.

  Suddenly, she felt hot tears against her collarbone. “I can’t do this.”

  “Yes, you can, Lindsay.”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “It hurts too much. My head…it screams for it. I…I could have hurt you, Anais. I wanted to, just for a chance to get my hands on the opium.”

  “You would never hurt me, Lindsay, I know that.”

  “I already have, though, haven’t I?”

  “Shh,” she whispered as he held him tight. “This storm will pass.”

  “I cannot endure another.”

  “Yes, you will, you can. I have never seen you stronger, Lindsay. You can beat this. You will beat this.”

  He shuddered against her, pressing his body into hers. “Don’t leave me, Anais.”

  “Never. When you open your eyes, Lindsay, I will be there.”

  His fingers, trembling uncontrollably, caressed her mouth. “Promise, angel?”

  She kissed his fingers. “Promise.”

  “Come into the bath with me, Anais,” he asked. He took her by the hand and walked them over to the spring bath. She watched as he removed his trousers. Then he reached for her and pulled her chemise up and over her head.

  “Maybe the water will take away the pain in my body. And your arms, Anais,” he said, lifting her up and carrying her into the bath, “will take away the pain in my soul.”

  Together they slipped into the warm water. Anais held him, locking her arms and legs around him so that she could caress him and whisper into his ear.

  “You are very strong, Lindsay. You will do this. I believe that.”

  He looked up at her, caught her gaze through the moonlight that had crept in through the windows. He captured her lips with his. “Take me away from all this,” he begged. “Make me forget everything but you.”

  Her mouth, gentle, caressed his jaw where it was stubbled with growth. Her lips sought his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard—she kissed it, and he felt himself go boneless against her, the water lapping around them as he held tightly on to her waist. Her hands smoothed down his shoulders and arms, which he knew still trembled, before wrapping around to the muscles of his chest, soothing him, loving him.

  She knew what he needed, and she gave it to him so easily, so perfectly. Without question or reservation.

  Christ, he needed this, he thought as he closed his eyes and allowed her to touch him. He needed her caresses, to feel her strength so he could absorb it, could steal it from her to shore up his own faltering resolve. He needed to be part of her, to know that he still held some piece of her, a piece that was his alone.

  He knew she did not do this out of pity. She did it out of love, out of the passion they had for one another. And he was weak enough to allow her—no, he would beg her for it if she stopped her touches, and the trail of her lips on his throat. He was not beneath begging Anais. But she didn’t make him plead. She knew that at this time, what he needed, almost as much as he needed the opium, was her touch to take away the pain in his body and the ache in his heart.

  He wanted to show her pleasure, to bury his mouth in her sex and taste her, to feel her fingers pulling at his hair as she came, but he was weak, and he was selfish. He wanted, for just this once, to have Anais show him her physical love. To take his body into her own hands and show him what he meant to her.

  Her lips were gliding down his throat, her fingers playing with his nipples, which were hard and tingling. His body was ready, greedy to take everything she was offering him. Restless, he moved his hips against hers, nudging his cock between the apex of her thights. The need to be buried in her was primal, almost overpowering, and he nudged harder, seeking entrance into her cunt, which was tight and warm and waiting to accept him.

  “Let me give you this,” she whispered against his cheek as she reached for his bollocks and cupped them in her hand. He moaned, the feeling at once so perfect, yet not enough. She played with him, teased him, made him burn, then reached for his cock and stroked him up and down in a lazy fashion that had him gritting his teeth, trying to reach for something that was harder, faster, that would have him spilling into her palm. Yet he didn’t want to demand or dictate. He wanted her to explore him, to love him just as she desired.

  “Let me try to take the pain away,” she murmured as she passed her fingertip over the head of his cock, which was already leaking with anticipation.

  “You are, angel,” he said on a sigh as she suckled his nipple. “I feel nothing but you now. I want nothing but you and the pleasure you give me.”

  Christ, she made the ache in his body leave as she laved his nipples and stroked his cock with firmer strokes that had him growing thicker. His cock lay between their bodies, he felt her quim, wet with desire, brush against his thigh, and he shoved it between her silky thighs, letting her ride him as his hands made sweeping motions down her back, to her lush bottom, which he softly grazed with his fingetips. The water was warm, but despite that, he felt goose bumps rise on her flesh as she rode aginst him, pleasuring herself while pleasuring him.

  She gave him everything. Her whispered words of love, her curved body as she pressed into him. She brought him up until he thought he would spill into her hand, then brought him back down, only to bring him to the brink of orgasm once again.

  It was slow and beautiful. The first time she had ever taken him on her own. She knew how to touch him, how to make him moan, but did she know how much he needed her now? How he needed to be inside her to fill the empty spot in his soul—the one she had left when they had parted ways. Did she know he needed her to join with him to keep the heavenly demon from screaming in his head?

  “I need you, angel,” he pleaded next to her ear. “Keep me safe, won’t you?”

  He begged her as he felt her fingers swirl against the swollen head, spreading the seed that had seeped out. He begged again as her sex slipped over his thigh, rubbing in time to her stroking hand.

  Christ, his voice was weak, full of pain and eagerness. He thought he might have been weeping, knew he was when she kissed the corner of his eye, taking the droplet away on her lips.

  She knew what he needed, knew what that one broken word—please— meant.

  She opened to him and guided his cock into her quim, slowly giving herself to him to hold, to fill.

  He buried his face into her hair
and allowed her to love him as he so desperately needed.

  There were no words, just shaky breaths and clutching hands and mouths hungrily seeking each other. She was riding him slowly, the pace intentionally slow so he could feel every quiver, every shudder of her body as she held him safe. And then he was spilling into her, his body trembling, his voice crying out—but not in need for opium. She had made him forget about that. Now, all he could see was her. All he wanted in his life was the woman who clutched him to her and allowed him to silently weep against her. He felt no shame at his tears, just relief knowing his secret was out, that the demon who held him was slowly being exorcised out of him, but made more bearable by Anais, a woman who owed him nothing. A woman who loved him despite his flaws. There had been other passionate couplings between them, but never one as beautiful and humbling as this one. As he clutched her in his shaking hands and wept against her, he whispered into her ear, the words that made him believe.

  “Love bears all things. Endures all things,” he said. “Ours has, hasn’t it?” She nodded and held him tighter. “But can it endure this, Anais? This demon who holds me so mercilessly in its claws?”

  She touched his face and kissed him. “My love can and will, Lindsay. I will be here when you open your eyes. I will give you whatever you need to make it more bearable.”

  29

  Two days later, the withdrawal from the opium overtook Lindsay. He was constantly trembling and shaking. He couldn’t keep fluids or food down, and even when his stomach was empty he still purged into the chamber pot. Anais was always there, rubbing his back, wiping his brow with cool cloths. There had not been any further scenes like the one where he had demanded she let him out of the room. But there were still moments when she thought Lindsay would go mad with longing for the opium. Other times he separated himself from her. She couldn’t reach him then, could only pray that he would emerge from the darkness that gripped him. There were other times when he would break down and cry, in pain, the physical and emotional kind. It was these moments that Anais knew he got lost inside himself and the pain of the past few weeks. She feared he might never come back, but he did—and always to her.