by T. K. Leigh
I can’t fight him off when he leans closer, dragging his tongue along my throat, the sensation like tiny daggers stabbing me. I squeeze my eyes shut, muscles tightening.
“Just needed one last taste,” he explains as he pulls back. I snap my gaze to his as he lifts the knife back to me.
My chest rises and falls in a faster pattern, my heart thundering in my ears. All I can do is stare at him, wishing with everything for Medusa’s ability to turn him into stone. But I’m not her. I never have been, despite Nick’s insistence to the contrary. I have no way of defending myself. My only chance is that Julia assumes the role of Hera and becomes who she needs to be.
Nick keeps his gaze trained on mine, almost amused that I don’t look away and instead glare at him as he presses the blade into my skin, a droplet of blood escaping.
“Let me do it!” Julia finally demands, her voice stark against the silence in the garage, causing Nick to stop.
I blow out a breath, sending up a prayer.
He blinks, taken aback by her command. And that’s precisely what it was. Gone is the scared, confused woman she’s been these past few weeks. In her place is a strong, confident woman. Like the goddess Hera herself. And like Hera, she holds immense power over Zeus.
“You want to do it?”
“I understand now,” she says evenly, peering into his eyes. “I was scared. Seeing all that stuff from my past, reading about myself from your eyes…” Licking her lips, she shakes her head. “I didn’t know what to think. But like always, you’ve helped me see what’s important. What matters. Everything you did was to protect me. Like you did at the foster home when you always gave me your apple slices.”
He exhales, dropping his hold on me. “You remember.” In awe, he stands, taking several slow steps toward her.
She nods. “I do. And when they wanted to cut my hair, you intervened on my behalf, convinced them to let me keep my curls.”
Kneeling before her, he wraps a strand of golden blonde hair around a single finger, bringing it up to his nose and inhaling. “I couldn’t let them do that. Couldn’t let them do anything to destroy your beauty. After all, it was your perfect blonde hair that drew me to you. Like the goddess Hera herself. It’s how I knew we were meant to be, even as kids.”
“See? You’ve always had my best interests in mind, even when I didn’t know what I needed myself. My king. My Zeus.” She cranes her head back, her lips seeking his.
He covers her mouth in a soft kiss. “My Hera.”
“Which is why I should be the one to silence her,” she sneers in my direction. “I’m your Hera. It’s my duty to punish any woman who dares consort with my king. Who dares steal my love from me.”
He searches her eyes for a beat, looking for any deception. Finding none, he slams his lips against hers, seemingly getting off on every manipulative word she feeds him. I can’t help but marvel at how easily he believes her without even a single doubt about her devotion. I guess when you want to believe something so badly, you’re more inclined to ignore reality.
Then again, I’m fairly certain Nick’s never lived in reality. Not based on what I’ve seen today.
“We’re in this together, my love,” Julia whispers huskily. “We are one. Inseparable. Impenetrable.”
“Together,” Nick mutters as he feathers another kiss to her mouth.
“Forever,” she promises.
“Forever.”
Reaching behind her, he slices the rope binding her wrists before doing the same to the restraints around her ankles. After pressing another kiss to her lips, he helps her to her feet, beaming down on her with a creepy sort of pride, as if the years and years of hard work have finally paid off.
“I knew you’d come around once you saw things from my perspective. You always do.”
“I just needed you to show me the way. I’ll always need you to show me the way.”
“And I’ll always be here to do that.” He tugs her body back into his, groaning as he coaxes her mouth open. She stands on her toes to meet his height, digging her fingernails into his scalp before pulling back.
“May I?” She extends her hands, gaze focused on the knife Nick holds.
“This may be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen you do.” He passes me a sinister look as he places the knife into Julia’s open palm.
“Wow.” She shivers, eyes gleaming as she turns from him, moving toward me. “It’s so small, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt so powerful.”
“It’s a rush, isn’t it?” Nick remarks. “Holding someone’s life in your hands?”
“It certainly is.” She slowly nods, stare focused solely on me as her lips quirk into a smile, not breaking character once. Neither do I, considering my life depends on both of us playing the roles he’s given us. “Now it’s time to atone for your sins.”
She shifts toward Nick, gaze darkening as she tightens her grip on the handle of the knife.
Before he has a chance to fully understand what she’s about to do, she plunges the blade into his groin. A strangled cry pierces the air as he falls to the floor, clutching himself.
I gasp, jaw dropping. I knew she’d have to resort to harming him in some way in order for us to make our escape. I didn’t expect this. Didn’t think Julia had it in her.
“That’s for making me question everything in my life, even my own brother, you fucking asshole!” she shrieks, her entire body vibrating with fury. “You preyed on my weakness, my vulnerability…” She brings her foot up to where the knife protrudes from his body, a fear unlike any I’ve seen flashing in his eyes. “Now who’s the weak one?” She presses her foot down, forcing the blade to dig in even deeper, a pained cry reverberating in the space until his eyes close. His body goes limp, the agony probably too much for him to remain conscious.
Spinning from him, she rushes toward me, struggling to undo my bindings with her shaky, blood-covered hands.
“In the toolbox.” I nod at the far wall. “There are more utility knives. Hurry.”
She darts toward it while I keep an eye on Nick, worried he might somehow miraculously spring back to life like the true immortal Zeus was. But he’s no god. Just a pitiful man who used these characters he obsessed over to validate his behavior.
“Got one,” she announces, whirling around and scurrying across the garage back to me.
Once my wrists and ankles are free, she drops the knife, helping me to my feet. I loop my arm through hers, both of us supporting each other as we struggle to put as much space between Nick and us as possible.
I fumble for the garage door opener on the side of the wall, repeatedly smashing the button. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the mechanism kicks in and the door slowly slides open.
I breathe in the fresh air, placing my hand on the exterior wall to steady myself, a dizzy spell overtaking me. The events of the past few hours seem to catch up to me, spots obscuring my vision as I struggle to maintain my balance.
But I can’t, collapsing to the ground in a heap.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Londyn
“There you go,” the nurse says brightly, smoothing her hand over the bandage she just applied to the side of my head.
I bring my hand up to it, feeling the large bump and gash Nick left, which required five stitches. I’m lucky he didn’t do more damage than that. At least not physically.
Emotionally, though…
Those scars will take a lot more than a few stitches to heal.
But I’ve done it before. And I’ll do it again.
“You’ll want to make an appointment with your personal physician soon, preferably this week.”
“I will. Thank you.”
“Of course, sweetie.”
She leans toward me, dropping her voice to a whisper. “I have to say, I’ve been following your case.”
“You have?”
“Sure have.” She turns to the cart, arranging the bandages into some semblance of order. “If you ask me, that b
astard got what he deserved.”
I can’t stop the smile from tugging on my lips.
In the four hours since I arrived in the emergency room, undergoing a myriad of tests to figure out what caused my fainting spell, the story about what happened to Nick has made the headlines. I should feel vindication that the truth has finally been revealed, but it’s a little bittersweet. I wish Wes were here to celebrate with me. After all, he stood by my side, his support unwavering, regardless of the obstacles we faced.
“Bet you wish you could have been the one to stab him.”
I look at the blue privacy curtain separating me from all the other patients. Then I turn my eyes back to the nurse, offering her a small smile. “Actually, it needed to be his wife. She’s suffered the longest.”
“Well, I’m glad he won’t be able to hurt anyone else ever again.” She lowers her voice once more. “And according to some of my colleagues in critical care, he may never be able to get it up again, either. If you know what I mean.” She playfully nudges me. “He got exactly what he deserves. Poetic justice.”
I couldn’t agree more. A knife to the groin is a fitting punishment for a man who lived his life thinking the stories in Greek mythology were real.
She squeezes my arm. “I’ll get started on your discharge papers.” She starts to pull back the privacy curtain, coming to an abrupt stop when a nurse pushing a wheelchair lingers just outside, about to open the curtain herself.
My focus immediately goes to the man in the wheelchair, eyes awash with concern, tension oozing from every pore.
I slowly sit up in the hospital bed. “Wes…”
“You’re…” He licks his lips. “You’re okay.”
“I’m okay.”
“You must be the boyfriend,” my nurse teases.
“I am,” Wes answers, turning his attention toward her.
“Well then. I’ll give y’all some time together. Miss Londyn here couldn’t stop talking about you, made sure we sent word over to the burn unit to let you know she’s okay.”
“These two are perfect for each other,” Gemma, Wes’ nurse, says. “Because this one threw a right fit once he heard the news. Threatened to get out of bed and find her if that’s what it took. Not sure how far he’d get since he can’t exactly walk, but he’s determined. That’s for sure.” She turns her attention to Wes. “You’ve got ten minutes before I need to get you back.”
“I’ll take whatever I can get,” he responds, not so much as glancing at her, his focus on me and me alone.
She nods, pushing his chair toward my bed. Then she follows my nurse into the ER, closing the privacy curtain behind her.
Wes doesn’t hesitate, taking my hand in his and bringing it to his mouth. I sigh, relishing in the warmth of his skin on mine now that his hand is no longer bandaged.
“You’re okay,” he says again, almost as if he needs the confirmation.
“I’m okay,” I say once more.
“Do you have any idea how worried I was? When I saw the news alert pop up on my phone, I thought I was going to die, Lo. Especially when I couldn’t reach you.” He cups my cheek. “It was like New Year’s Day all over again.”
I lean into his touch, basking in the love that pours from the connection. There was a time I didn’t think I’d ever feel his skin on mine again. That Nick would be the last person to touch me. But for once, luck was on my side.
Or at least Julia was.
“I didn’t mean to worry you. I can only imagine the hell you gave your nurses.”
“They pretty much had to restrain me.” He laughs. “I didn’t care. I’d do whatever it took to get to you. Still will.” He draws my lips to his, and I melt into his kiss. It’s exactly what I need.
He once told me I was the medicine for his soul. He’s also mine. In this one kiss, all my indecision is gone. In this one kiss, I remember what’s important. In this one kiss, I know the path I’m meant to take. And that’s with Wes. We’re stronger together. And we’ll get through whatever the future holds. I was foolish to think otherwise, my fear getting the better of me. No more.
Pulling back, he surveys my body, starting with the bandage on my temple, continuing down my torso, his jaw clenching when he sees the heavy bruising on my wrists.
“How…,” he begins, shaking his head. “How did this happen?”
Taking his hand, I draw in a deep breath, then recount the events of the afternoon.
How I’d stopped by his place to gather a few of his things to make his lengthy hospital stay more comfortable. How Julia came by and said she believed me. How she showed me a journal Nick kept that detailed his observations of me, predating our first encounter by over a year. How Julia had found dozens of similar journals, all supposedly research on various characters in Greek mythology. In reality, they were his stalking chronicles, including one that detailed Nick’s obsession with Julia from an early age. How the journal Julia brought me corroborated my story. Not only back in college, but also on New Year’s Day.
Then how we were about to take the journal to Sophia when a figure came out of the shadows and knocked me out. How I woke up in the garage, bound and unable to move. How I learned Julia and Nick actually knew each other when they were kids, that they were at the same foster home together. How Nick was the one responsible for the fire at Gampy and Meemaw’s house, having set it in the hopes of silencing me, then pinned it on Grady, a tactic he confessed to using with several of the other women he’d stalked and assaulted.
How Julia was the real hero of the afternoon, playing the role of Hera perfectly, tricking Nick into believing she wanted to be the one to kill me. How she turned on him and stabbed him in the groin. Then how, once she freed me and we were out of the garage, I passed out.
Blinking, he pinches the bridge of his nose, processing everything. “Is Julia okay?”
“She’s fine. The police took her statement, then went with her to your parents’ house to collect all the journals and keepsake boxes as evidence.”
“And Nick?” he asks hesitantly, as if expecting him to escape justice yet again.
“In surgery. With two cops stationed outside. They’ll stay with him until he’s released, at which point he’ll be taken into custody.”
“What about the charges against you?”
“Sophia is already in talks with the DA. It sounds like they’ll be dropping them within the next few days. And as of right now, they have no intention of pursuing any charges against Julia for her actions today.”
“Thank God.” He exhales a relieved breath. “I can’t believe she knew him growing up.”
“I doubt she has many clear memories of him. Not like he does of her. He is six years older than her. She was, what? Five or six when your parents adopted her?”
He nods, staring into the distance for a few seconds before looking back at me. “How are you doing? You said you fainted. Did they check you for a concussion?”
I part my lips to answer, but he won’t let me, his worry for my well-being obvious.
“Have they done an MRI or CAT scan?” he continues.
“Wes, I—”
“I don’t think you should leave until they do. You fainted, for crying out loud. I’ve had concussions before and fainted. You can’t be alone.”
“Wes,” I say again, and yet again, his concern overshadows my protest as he frantically scans every part of my body. It reminds me of our first meeting, how he just wanted to make sure I was okay.
“You need someone with you to check you out every two hours. If you go to sleep and you really do have a concussion, you might not—”
“I’m pregnant!” I shout to put an end to this.
He stiffens, jaw dropping as he gapes at me, my words echoing around us. The chaotic atmosphere in the emergency room seems to disappear, everything going still. This isn’t how I imagined telling him. I kind of wanted to wait until he was out of the hospital to spring this on him.
“That’s why I fainted,” I co
ntinue in a small voice. “Because I’m pregnant and haven’t exactly been taking care of myself lately.”
He stares at me in wonder, shifting his gaze to my stomach. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “Is… Is the baby okay? With everything that happened, did—”
“The baby is fine.”
He blows out a breath, relief covering his expression. “How far along?”
“About eight weeks. With all the craziness lately, I hadn’t realized when I missed a period.”
“A baby.” He places his hand over my stomach, tears welling in his eyes.
“A baby.” I cover his hand with mine. “It’s still early. The risk of miscarriage in the first trimester is pretty high, but—”
He cuts me off with a kiss. Gentle, yet intense. Swiping his tongue along my lips, he coaxes my mouth open, the feel of his breath intermingling with mine setting me aflame. I moan, drowning in all he is. And for the first time, I don’t want to come up for air. Not anymore.
He pulls back, leaning his forehead on mine. “Everything’s going to work out. I feel it.”
“So you’re not upset?”
“Upset?” He cocks his head to the side. “What could I possibly be upset about?”
I fidget with my hands in my lap. “I’m sure this must come as a surprise to you. It surprised me,” I say, talking fast. “When I told the nurse my symptoms, insisting it had to be a concussion, like you did, she asked if I was pregnant. I thought she was crazy, but when I couldn’t remember when my last cycle was, she had me give her a urine sample. Sure enough…”
He touches his lips to mine. “Are you kidding me? It might be a surprise, but it’s the best kind of surprise. You are the best kind of surprise. A plot twist.” He floats his eyes to my stomach. “And now we get to share our love with our child. You for me, Lo.”
A warmth flows through me, my heart expanding in my chest. “Me for you.”
“For the rest of our lives.”
“The rest of our lives.” I bask in the exchange we’ve said countless times over the past few weeks. But this time, it has a different meaning. A deeper meaning.
For the longest time, the future was just an abstract idea in my mind, something I never gave much thought to. Not when the shadows of my past constantly pulled me down.