“Follow my lead,” I instructed.
Pushing off, I moved her around the empty room, the music barely audible as we twirled and stepped. I looked down at her, something swelling in my throat, and it hurt, but I couldn’t look away, either.
I didn’t need her. I’d made a beautiful family, not just my wife and children, but my friends too. I had everything.
And still, holding her in my arms, I realized something that had been missing. I realized how much I wanted to bring her in closer and hold onto something.
Sometimes I was so tired. I could ask for help, lean on the guys or vent to the women, but I wouldn’t. Not ever.
I wanted to be strong for them. I never wanted Banks to see me scared again, or Rika to see me lose my shit and not be able to handle something.
I never wanted my children to see me as anything less than a man.
I wasn’t sure why, but with Christiane, I didn’t care if I wasn’t the strongest in the room. Even well into my thirties, I had to admit, I kind of still wanted a mom.
A mom might be there for the times you were vulnerable.
Pulling her in closer, I carried her around the floor, hearing her breathe out a laugh as we spun, her feet barely touching the ground the faster I moved.
How strange it was to be a parent. For so many years, I couldn’t see myself in her shoes, and even though I knew I’d do so many things differently if I’d been her, I could at least understand how hard it probably was to be desperate for your child and watch another woman raise him.
Between Christiane, Natalya, and Gabriel, they did everything wrong.
But I was still here.
Banks was still here. Rika was still here. Despite everything, we survived our parents.
Not once had Banks or Rika ever blamed theirs for anything. I had done nothing but blame Christiane for the past decade.
How easily could my own kids turn around and do the same? All this love I had for them, and they could still hate me.
I slowed my feet, a weight settling on my shoulders, and I was so tired all of a sudden.
And scared. She wanted to be more, but she failed. How did I know I wouldn’t? How could I stand there and judge her, acting all high and mighty? No one knew what the future held.
Christiane looked up at me, her smile falling as we stopped, but I didn’t say anything.
Slowly backing away, I left her and headed back into the ballroom, immediately searching for Winter.
The music grated on my ears, and I spotted her talking to Michael and Emmy. I walked for her.
Taking her hand, I saw her smile as she instantly recognized the feel of me and grabbed hold with both of her hands.
“Where’s Octavia?” she asked.
“Treasure hunting with Mads,” I mumbled, pulling her with me without a word or look to the other two. “Come on.”
Without question, she held onto me as I guided her into the foyer, underneath the candlelit chandelier, and to the door to the catacombs.
I pulled open the latch, ushered her inside, and closed it behind us, immediately scooping her into my arms and stepping down the stairs.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, wrapping her arms around my neck.
“I need to hold you.”
“You are holding me.”
“You know what I mean,” I said, kissing her lips.
She didn’t press further, just let me carry her into the bath and set her back on her feet. The candlelight extended into the catacombs, the jacuzzi already filled with water and steam rising off the surface.
Reaching over, I turned the knob, the spouts in the ceiling springing to life, and water poured into the small pool in a circle of about twenty different streams, almost like a fountain pouring down.
I tore off my jacket and shirt, dropping them to the floor, followed by the rest of my clothes, and then got to work on Winter. I unlaced the corset and pushed down her dress before peeling off her underthings, leaving the ribbons in her hair.
Heat coursed under my skin at the sight of her, and I pulled her into my arms, lifting her up. “Come here,” I gasped over her lips.
She wrapped her legs around me, and I climbed into the huge bath, the hot water sending chills all over my body.
I sat down, taking her with me, the rain shower falling around us as I hugged her to me and buried my face in her hair.
She tensed, but I just squeezed tighter, trying to feel solid again. I hated doubt, and most of the time I kept busy enough to not let myself worry about my kids, but I didn’t know what I was doing any more than the next person. I could judge the people who raised me all I wanted, but it was me who’d be judged next.
“Damon…” Winter whispered, knowing something was wrong.
“I’m not a good father.” I breathed out a sigh, clutching her. “Ivarsen has no discipline. He’s going to be undriven. Fane is neurotic. Everything has to be perfect. Gunnar is going to blow us up with his machines. Dag has refused to eat a vegetable since birth, and Octavia’s going to wind up in a fucking asylum when she finds out real life pirates are just terrorists with grenade launchers.” I gulped, hating that after thousands of years there was still no proven method of raising kids. “I don’t know what to do. How the hell would I know what a good parent does and doesn’t do?”
I was just as ignorant as Christiane was when she had me. Kai was right. They had a better chance at life with more guidance. I was doing everything wrong.
Winter’s arms finally wrapped around me, and she pressed her lips to my temple, her breasts flush against my body.
“A good parent has happy kids,” she whispered in my ear. “Our kids are so happy.”
She kissed my cheek and then my lips, soft and slow. I closed my eyes, reveling in the sound of the water and the feel of her.
“They’re so happy,” she told me again. “And so in love with you.”
A flutter hit my stomach, and I smiled a little, unable to hold it back. They do love me, don’t they?
“And I’m so happy,” she added.
I pulled back, looking at her as my thoughts started to come into focus again. It didn’t happen often, but it was hard not to compare myself. Kai’s kids had great manners and were fairly quiet. Athos was smart, ambitious, and determined. Will’s children never fought him on anything. They did what they were told the first time he asked.
My kids…
But I stopped the thought in its tracks, remembering Ivar helping his mom make pancakes this morning.
My kids could be really sweet, actually, couldn’t they?
Gunnar was so good about helping with spills, so his mom wouldn’t slip. Fane helped her pick out books at the store for Dag and Octavia, describing the pictures and story, so she knew what to buy.
They were good kids. I drew in a breath and exhaled, letting the worry go for now. We were doing a good job.
“Better?” she whispered, kissing my jaw and caressing my neck.
My eyelids fluttered closed, and I nodded. “Don’t stop.”
She grinded against me, and I started to harden, my hand palming her breast, but then a high-pitched sound penetrated the ceiling above our heads, and we both stopped, looking up.
“Was that a scream?” she asked.
I groaned. What now?
I kissed her, her red lips soft and warm as I caressed her cold cheeks. Pulling back, I gazed down at her through the intricate silver metal mask that covered her forehead, her eyes staring up at me through the slits in the design.
Leaning in, she breathed over my mouth and slid a quick hand down my pants, grabbing me. “You think your wife suspects anything?” she teased.
I gasped as she fisted me, not caring about anything right now other than to see her butt-assed naked, except for that mask on her head.
I grinned, nibbling her bottom lip. “Who cares?” I taunted. “Nothing is keeping me off of you.”
Emmy smiled, sinking her mouth into mine and pulling her hand off me, so she
could wrap her arms around my neck.
“I love you so much,” my wife told me. “You know that, right?”
I nodded. “But you can still work hard to prove it.”
“I will.” She kissed me again. “But finish dancing with me first.”
We spun, the music just barely drifting up to the second-floor balcony where we danced, the cold and snow seeping through to our bones, but she was smiling so much, I wasn’t about to stop whatever she wanted.
She laid her head on my chest, holding me close.
I loved it when she did that. All the time I spent thinking she didn’t need me, and now I knew she did.
She didn’t hold me. She held on to me.
We stared out at the forest, most of the trees bare of leaves, and the Bell Tower’s lantern visible through the branches.
“Where is her grave?” Emmy asked.
I didn’t have to ask who she was talking about, the eternal flame for Reverie Cross flickering in the belfry in the distance.
It was strange that she’d waited so long to ask that question, but no stranger that no one else ever had.
When I didn’t answer, she asked, “Did your grandfather love her?”
I tightened my arms around her. “I’ve never asked him.”
It was a subject of which I was eternally curious, but I could never bring it up with him. Maybe I’d be disappointed if the answers were more boring than my imagination.
Maybe I was afraid the answers would change how I loved him.
“Did he kill her?” Emmy whispered.
“I won’t ask him.”
Not ever.
“He could be the only one who knows what happened that night,” she pressed.
I know. And he wouldn’t live much longer to tell the story.
“No one knows where her grave is, then?” she asked again.
“Nowhere near Edward’s,” I told her. “That’s all I know.”
I snuggled her close, wanting to make the most of the time we had left before the kids came home, and discussing Reverie Cross was not what I had in mind.
“So, do you love me?” I teased.
“I’m almost positive I told you I did just thirty-nine seconds ago.”
I scoffed. I liked to hear it more frequently. She knew that.
She laughed, pressing her mouth to mine. “I love you.”
I moved over her lips, freezing my ass off out here, but the warm promise of her body had me hard and ready.
“I want to go somewhere,” I told her.
Catacombs, pantry, spare bedroom…wherever.
“I want to dance some more,” she whined.
I cocked an eyebrow. “How about you dance for me?”
I could live with that.
A wicked smile crossed her lips, and she bit her bottom lip. “Race you.”
And before I could reply, she pulled away, hiked up her dress, and started running.
A laugh rumbled through me, watching her scurry back into the house in her high heels before I sprinted, chasing her.
Bolting through the sitting room, she squealed as I tailed her and we both ran into the hallway, toward the guest rooms.
But then she halted all of a sudden and screamed, her back going rigid.
“Will!” she cried.
My smile fell, and I darted up to her side, taking hold of her.
“Wha—?”
But then I looked down and saw a bloody pool on the wooden floor, a body lying in the hallway.
I sucked in a breath and pulled her back. “What the fuck?”
“Oh, my God.” She covered her mouth with her hand.
“What’s going on?” Kai called from downstairs, and I looked over the railing to see him standing in the foyer.
“Hurry!” I waved him up.
Kneeling down, I tried to make out the guy’s face in the dark, but he was face down, only the left side visible.
Who…? What the hell happened?
“Baby, get the lights,” I told her.
I pressed my fingers, finding his neck to check for a pulse, but I couldn’t find one. Light finally illuminated the hallway as footfalls hit the stairs, everyone running up after us.
“What the hell?” Kai said, stopping next to the body. “Who is that?”
How would I know?
“Is he dead?” I heard Michael ask.
No idea. I stared down at him, a young blond man in street clothes, blood seeping out of his head. I didn’t recognize him, and he wasn’t dressed for the party.
“Who is that?” Rika asked.
I shook my head.
Someone raced past us as I searched his pockets for identification, but when I reached under his jacket, I felt it.
I hesitated, the pulse in my neck throbbing.
Shit.
I flipped him over, dug under his arm, and pulled out the pistol from his holster. It laid in my palm, realization starting to hit all of us at the exact same time. The only people who had weapons were Lev and David, and this wasn’t either of them.
“The kids are gone!” a woman shouted.
What? I shot to my feet as everyone spun around to lock eyes with Mrs. Cuthbert.
“What kids?” I barked. “They’re at the theater.” And then I jerked my chin at Emmy, tossing her my phone. “Call Miss Englestat.” She had the kids at the theater. “Have her do a head count.”
She nodded, her hands shaking as she dialed.
“Mads and Octavia,” Damon murmured, his worried eyes meeting mine. “They stayed behind.”
Mads and Octavia… I darted my eyes to the nanny.
“They’re not in their rooms,” she cried.
And my face fell, realizing those were the kids she was talking about.
Everyone ran.
“Tavi!” Banks raced down the hall to the rooms the kids used when they were here.
“Madden!” Kai bolted down the other hallway where it forked to search the gallery where his son liked to hide.
“Madden!” more voices called as everyone fanned out.
My mouth went dry. I dipped down again, searching for the dude’s pulse and not finding it. Putting my fingers under his nose, I waited to feel the warmth of his breath.
There was nothing.
More footfalls ascended the stairs, and I rose up again, piecing together the possibilities in my head.
“He’s dead,” I said.
“It wasn’t us,” I head Lev say, and I looked up to see him and David standing at the top of the stairs, out of breath. “We didn’t see anything.”
“That’s obvious!” Banks growled.
“The door’s been opening every ten seconds with guests, Banks!” Lev yelled. “Anyone could’ve gotten in. I told you we needed more security.”
“But you all didn’t want ‘armed guards and a metal detector at the front door’,” David added, quoting Michael.
Michael grabbed his collar, shoving him away. “Search the house. Go!”
Damon, Banks, and Michael ran in and out of rooms, searching again. “Mads!” they called. “Octavia!”
I tucked the gun into the back of my pants and gestured to Kai. “Get his feet.”
“We need the police,” Emmy argued. “Don’t move him.”
“We’re not calling anybody until we find the kids,” Kai gritted out.
We weren’t sure how this happened. We needed to find out before we involved the cops.
“Octavia!” Damon bellowed, and I swore I could hear his frantic breathing from here.
“Wait, the cameras…” Rika burst out.
Spinning around, she ran to her office, her computer set up to access the street cams and home security. She had a view of nearly every inch of the town.
Kai and I dumped the body in her and Michael’s bedroom, closed the door, flipped over the carpet in the hallway to cover the blood, and ran after everyone else, charging into her office.
“Go back,” I heard Michael tell her.
Pushi
ng buttons and turning a knob, she rewound the footage, playing back the night’s events. There weren’t any cameras inside the house, but they covered the exterior and the grounds. I guessed that would change after tonight. Michael would have the company here in the morning, adding extra security.
She stopped, seeing Mads and Octavia rushing out the side door of the kitchen, running frantically as if trying to escape, but…
A car was waiting. My heart lodged in my throat. Two men jumped out, and before the kids knew what was happening, they were thrown inside and the car raced off.
“No,” Damon gasped.
“What is it?” Winter cried.
He just held her close.
“Wait, wait, who is that?” Kai pointed to the blond sitting in the passenger side seat. “Zoom in!”
Rika rewound again, catching him as he got out of the car to help get the kids and paused the video, enhancing the shot.
Banks whimpered. “Ilia Oblonsky.”
Kai’s spine straightened, and he breathed hard. Ilia was an employee of Gabriel Torrance years ago. Banks had him thrown out of the country when she inherited her father’s estate.
“And who’s that?” Michael squinted at the other one who’d gotten out of the SUV.
“I can’t tell,” Rika replied.
But I stared at the brown head I’d know anywhere, because I knew him well.
My God.
“Taylor Dinescu,” I whispered.
Everyone turned to look at me, my stint in Blackchurch still rearing its ugly head.
“Jesus, fuck,” Damon muttered. “How did they find each other?”
I had no idea. Maybe there was Facebook group for people who hated us. A sinking feeling hit me, because I knew. I knew it years ago. He was a loose end I’d ignored, and I shouldn’t have.
But then Banks twisted around. “Kai?”
I followed her gaze, seeing Kai back out of the room, rage in his eyes.
“It’s my turn,” he told her. “I let you deal with him last time. Not this time.”
But before I could figure out what he meant, he tore from the room, and it took no time at all before we were all racing after him.
The ball still carried on downstairs, but instead of clearing the place or making some excuse to our guests, we didn’t waste another minute.
“Give me your phone,” Rika told Banks.
Fire Night Page 5