Chapter Twelve
♥
Gabe stood in the hallway outside their bedroom door. He knocked, again, even though the first three times hadn’t gained him entrance. He pressed his forehead to the wood. An agent stood to the left of the door. “Xandra? I know you can hear me. Every person in this place can apparently hear me; please open the door so we can talk.”
The door opened, and he took a deep breath before stepping inside the room, wary a flying object might come hurling at him. He saw her sitting on the bed, her packed suitcases at her feet and her leather jacket thrown over her bag. He nodded, message received loud and clear. She was ready to leave.
He smiled at her predictability. She wore black jeans, a black turtleneck, combat boots, and Siobhan’s scarf. Aside from the scarf, it was her take names, kick ass, and apologize later outfit. She’d worn a similar look in Belfast. And Montana. She fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Gabe whispered, “Why are we fighting?”
She turned and glared at him. “Seriously? In two weeks you’ve forgotten that it’s all fine and dandy if and when you fuck me, or Jonathon, or I assume Conor, but the moment I am alone with Conor or Jonathon, and I want to reach out and touch them, or kiss them, I can’t.”
“You can touch them. You can kiss them. You’ve made Jonathon your pillow every chance you’ve had, and obviously Conor did a bit of both a moment ago.”
She stood, crossed her arms, and stared at him.
“I can smell your scent on him!” Gabe accused.
“So what if you do? We’re in a fucking ménage. That’s what people in a relationship do.” She barked an angry laugh. “Oh, that’s right; we’re not in a relationship, because nothing is normal. Nothing is true. You fabricate illusions and manipulate feelings.”
“Xandra, sweetheart.” He stepped closer.
She pushed her palm against his chest and stepped back.
“I trusted Conor not to cross a line. He did anyway, and so what happens if and when I give him free rein with you? What happens when he doesn’t obey your wishes and completely dominates you? Breaks you? Because that’s his nature. I know him. You don’t.”
“Will you? Give him free rein with me?”
“As you said, we are a ménage. As we all blend, knowing one another will come naturally. The relationship will evolve—eventually it will be inevitable.”
“At this rate I will never know him.” Alexandra paced the room. “Conor isn’t the problem. So what, he disrespected your line in the sand when he shoved his hand into my pants, trying to chip through the wall I have around myself, in an effort to get me to make up with you. Jonathon expects me to bail. You don’t give a fuck that he’s disrespecting me! And yes, I use him, more than I should, for the comforts I can get from him, because even though he resents me and is jealous as fuck, I want him to know I still want him. He is the only person ever in the room who doesn’t want to manipulate, control, or dominate me! He is honest in his words and actions. Do you blame me for being fed up? Jesus!”
“Xandra.”
“Don’t Xandra me. For you two not to have been an item, he sure has his claws dug in deep, and he’s holding on for dear life.”
“We were honestly not an item. This is new behavior, and I think it’s because he’s never been threatened by any of my other relationships.”
She closed her eyes, and he knew it was because she didn’t want to hear about his past partners, but he needed to say what he needed to say, and whatever happened would happen, and then they’d move on from whatever was left. “It was never purposeful deception, more an omission of facts because I was afraid of the consequences. I’m sorry, because my behavior was childish and nonproductive. I should have been honest from the first that Jonathon and I had been on-again, off-again lovers, but we haven’t had sex and I’ve refused to dominate him since the Fairmont. So now he feels the place he has carved for himself in my life is threatened. I’m marrying you. I love you. I’ve never told any of my past partners I loved them, and I’ve certainly never slid my mother’s ring onto anyone else’s finger.”
“Not likely the rate we’re going. I’m rethinking that bit too.”
“You’re rethinking marrying me? The fuck you are!” He knew she was right. He was destroying any future they had together before they even made it to the church.
Alexandra covered her face, and only then did he realize tears were running down her cheeks. Fuck. Gabe caught her hands, pulled her up and against him. Relief flooded through him when she didn’t resist. He tipped her chin and met her watery gaze. The sudden change from emerald to aquamarine of her reddened eyes overwhelmed his heart. “I want to never make you cry again.”
He kissed her tentatively, and she offered no response. He kept kissing her until she finally met him halfway. He wiped her tears away but more fell, and then she was sobbing into his mouth. “Sweetheart, please talk to me.”
“Do you think the past two weeks have been hard on only you?”
He was slammed by the anger in her voice.
Gabe swept her off her feet and dropped her into the center of the bed. He climbed over her. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
He pulled her shirt off roughly.
“No, Gabe, not like this.” She struggled against him.
“Tell me there’s another way to break through the ice you’ve surrounded your heart with!”
“You would force me?”
“Did you ask Conor to shove his hand down the front of your pants?”
She looked away, and he knew Conor hadn’t asked either. He roughly tugged her jeans down and off before she could respond, and then pulled his shirt over his head.
She tried to scramble off the bed, but he grabbed her wrists, jerking her hands upward so she fell backward against the mattress. Once he had her held down, he pulled her hands against his chest. “My heart is yours, and every day for the past two weeks you’ve been slowly ripping it in half. I love you. Tell me that you no longer love me, and I will have you, Rowan, and Karen back on a plane to the US tonight.”
She closed her eyes and whispered, “You know I love you.”
Gabe unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. “You asked me months ago to keep trying to find you. Do you remember?”
She nodded, not opening her eyes.
Gabe stood, and he was relieved when she didn’t move from the center of the bed. He kicked off his shoes and finished stripping. He returned to the bed and covered her. “Alexandra.” He whispered her name, hoping she’d open her eyes and meet his gaze, but she didn’t, and he said insistently, “This is me trying to find you.”
He kissed her tenderly and was saddened when she again didn’t respond to him. He spread kisses over her face, her eyelids, her nose, and down her throat. Opening her bra from the front, he littered kisses over her breasts, and she didn’t push away as his mouth traveled lower, covering her stomach and rib cage. He dragged his lips lower, pausing over the juts of her pelvic bones.
He looped his fingers into the elastic of her panties. “Open your eyes.”
He saw her swallow and her lips part, but then she opened her eyes and met his gaze. He pulled her panties slowly down. “Tell me to stop trying to find you.”
She placed her hands over his, and he stopped pulling the fabric. “I can’t do that. I want you too badly to stop you, but you have to let me in too. Help me find you again, Gabe, and then let me get to know the man you are now. No secrets.”
He pulled her panties down her legs, then parted her thighs to settle between them. “I won’t force you. Ask me now to start again from here, or else I put on my clothes and leave you to stew in your anger until you are willing to come to me. I’ve waited a decade for this chance to be yours—”
He lowered his face, and she bent her knees, opening herself wider but not asking.
He pressed his nose to the soft triangle of hair over her mons and breathed in the scent of her. “I need you, sweetheart, but I won’t do this unless you’re completely willing to take part.”
He saw that she was panting and flushed, emotion still riding her hard.
“I am yours.” She reached for him and pressed his head down with both hands. “Find me. I’ve been floundering for two weeks, and I’m losing it.”
Gabe flicked his tongue over her clit as he exposed the tender bud, and she cried out. He lowered his mouth, focusing hard on her sensitive nub. He knew it was too much, too soon, and she reacted to the painful pleasure, trying to inch away from the concentrated sensation.
“God, Gabe. Stop, stop, stop.”
He shook his head.
She screamed as he sucked her hard. He bit lightly, and she bucked. “Please, Gabe.”
He released her tender flesh and slid a finger into her vagina, feeling her moisture, hearing her sigh. “Better?”
He tried to look into her eyes, but her face was crumpling with so many weeks of pent-up emotion.He finger-fucked her until the muscles spasmed around his finger. She was coming. He was certain, but she held in the sound, and when he looked at her face, her mouth was open in a silent scream. Before she could calm down, he climbed over her and filled her fast and deep. She clutched at him, holding on to him tight as he thrust into her powerfully, again and again. He felt her drag her nails down his back; the quick sting told him she’d scratched deep. When she finally cried out in a primal shout, the sound reverberated through him, and his pleasure hit him so hard and fast the orgasm was painful.
SHE MOVED WITH him, absorbing a bit of the thrust, but then emotion broke over her with the orgasm that had been building without her noticing. She screamed, letting out weeks of frustration, and he thrust more forcefully. He collapsed on her, panting. She wrapped her arms around his neck, sobbing, and he held her. Her body was shaking so hard. He stroked her, whispering promises and regrets until she was finally lying calmly in his arms. He kissed her temple.
She buried her face against his chest. “I want us to be all right again. I miss you.”
“We’re all right, mo ghrá. I’ve never loved you more.” He rolled, taking her with him, putting her on top. “Ride me.”
My love Hearing the endearment, a small frown curved her lips. She sat up and led his length inside her. She rocked over him as she squeezed his cock with her vaginal muscles. “It’s not the same, and you know it. Jonathon is much more important to you than you ever let on.”
“The same could be said of you and Conor,” he whispered.
“I’m confused by Conor. He’s quite…intoxicating. He short-circuits all my thoughts. It’s completely illogical, impossible to explain, and that makes him a puzzle. There’s nothing tangible about what I feel for Conor except a stronger and stronger need to be near him the more I try to stay away from him.”
Gabe rubbed her clit. “I believe Jonathon would be able to understand what you are saying better than I, because it is true; the harder I push him away, the more he tries to cling, even going so far as to act out—”
“No! There is no comparison between Jonathon and I,” she interrupted heatedly, then, regretting her harsh tone, said, “Tell me what you feel for him.”
“I’m drawn to him in different ways than I am you.” Gabe stroked her face with both hands, catching and pulling her toward him. She resisted a little, just enough for him to force her face close enough to kiss her, and she tried not to kiss him back, but she wanted the kisses. She didn’t want to fight, especially not over Jonathon or Conor.
He nibbled her lips and sucked her bottom lip into his mouth.
When he released her face, she was kissing him willfully.
He grabbed her hips, rocking her and pulling her against him. She felt her clit caught solidly between them, and suddenly the vortex was lifting her. She moaned.
“Come for me, Alexandra.”
She pressed harder against him, whispering his name like it was the last time she’d ever get to say it. “Gabe.”
She pulled up and arched backward, crying out as she threw her head back and coming so hard the ache inside felt like it might split her in two. Gabe pulled her hips harder and faster, and she knew he was coming as well. She lowered herself, flattening against his chest but he caught her face between his hands and kissed her neck, her cheeks, her closed eyelids. “Alexandra, I’m sorry for Jonathon’s behavior—”
“I don’t want or need you to apologize for him! Have you forgotten I’m the smartest girl in the house? I understand him. I know his fear.” Alexandra left the bed and pulled her clothes and shoes on quickly.
“What are you doing? We have to talk this all through.”
Heart breaking, she pulled on her jacket and started sliding the ring off.
“No! Alexandra, please.” He left the bed and dropped to his knees before her and held the ring pushed onto her finger. “Don’t leave, not like this. I will be a good husband to you. You know if a choice has to be made, it’s you; it has always been you.”
“No.” She rubbed away her tears. “The day that happens, you start to resent me.”
“Don’t turn me down, woman. I’m desperate. I love you. Tell me what to do, and I swear I will do it. Your words are true, and they’re true because I’ve forced the issue that I am the dominant in this ménage, but I was wrong. It can’t be me. You have to be the dominant. You have to have final say.”
“I don’t know how to be a dominant, and I don’t even want the job. Trust me. That’s the last thing I want or need.”
“You’re smart, Alexandra; it’s what I love most about you. We both know you play the moves a dozen ahead in your mind. You’ve already seen that this is the only way it will work. I can teach you to be dominant, and we both know it has to happen.”
“Maybe.” Alexandra agreed and held out her hand. “Walk with me?”
“You want to walk, now?”
“Do you honestly not feel every single person in this house straining to hear our every word? I want to step away and talk to you in private. Get dressed.”
GABE FEARED THE end was near. What would he do if she gave him back his mother’s ring? He took her hand and walked beside her the length of the long hallway, down the flight of stairs and through the front door. Of course, her Secret Service shadow accompanied them.
His heart was racing as she led him outside. She was silent as they walked through the dormant rear garden. She turned toward him and the back of the house. She shielded her eyes against a beam of sunlight that had somehow managed to break through the dark gray clouds. “Jesus, really?”
She turned away.
“What is it?”
“The window.” She started walking fast for the tree line and then broke into a run.
Gabe looked up and saw Conor, Jonathon, Mamó, Karen, and Rowan lined up in front of the windows. “Seriously?”
He watched her run and knew she wouldn’t stop, so he started running. Both she and the Secret Service agent who’d been shadowing them had a giant lead. She flew, having lightness on her side, and ducked into the darkness of the woods.
He ran, futilely calling her name, barely keeping her in sight, and knew he didn’t have a prayer of catching up. The Secret Service agent fared little better as Alexandra leaped over downed logs as if they weren’t there and kept going like a terrified deer. When he finally did catch up, she was bent, hands on her waist, and breathing hard. He knew she’d only stopped because of the rough-flowing river in her path. Thank God.
He closed his eyes and breathed deep as he listened to the agent. “Dr. Van Zant, we need to return to the house. A storm was reported rolling in from the ocean. Dr. Van Zant? Ma’am? What are you—”
Gabe heard a splash.
“Fuck!” Gabe didn’t open his eyes. “She dived in, didn’t she?”
“Dr. Van Zant, I need you to return to the shore immediately.”
When he opened his eyes, he saw her shoes and coat at his feet. The agent spoke into a microphone on his wrist. “Agent needs assistance.”
He was relieved to see she was not only managing the current but swimming hard to the opposite shore. He pulled his shirt over his head, peeled out of his pants and underwear, and stepped out of his shoes. He dived in. Fuck! Ice-cold water stole his breath.
Catching her in the water was easier than on land, because even though she was swimming strongly, she was being slowed by the weight of her shirt and jeans. He exited the water at the same time that she was pulling herself onto the beach. He demanded, “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Escaping.” She pulled the wet turtleneck over her head. She slipped from the wet jeans. “I’m tired of being followed. I’m tired of every word being overheard. I’m tired of being the government’s puppet on a string. I’m tired of fighting with you and Conor and Jonathon―”
“Baby, we can’t stay out here. It’s freezing, and you’re now soaking wet.”
“I’m tired of you controlling everyone. You say I need to dominate the ménage, and a voice in my head starts laughing hysterically, because yes, I have puzzled it out and it is the only answer that works, but we both know I will never dominate you, because you won’t let me. And you will never stop dominating them! You make promises impossible to keep.”
“Yes, to an extent I do, but you don’t understand the dynamics of a Dominant-submissive relationship yet, and there are established guiding principles to polyamorous relationships that are tried and true, like forming primary and secondary partners.”
“How does having you as my primary dictate when and if I can share intimacy with the other two?”
“If you would allow me to teach you—”
She met his gaze and shook her head. “Stop!”
“We all have to work together to make this work, and it’s been going well.” He stepped closer, but she stepped twice as far backward. “Alexandra, I need to get you back. You need warm clothes.”
“No!” She grabbed her head and turned in a circle, staring toward the sky. “I’m tired of being told what I need! Eat more, Alexandra. Take your pills, Alexandra. Learn patience, Alexandra! Don’t ditch your Secret Service agents, Alexandra. Fly here, Alexandra; no, no, just kidding, fly here instead—”
“Your lips are turning blue. Listen to reason.”
She closed her eyes and backed farther away. “Maybe someone should start asking me what I want—what I’ve always wanted, almost my entire life.”
His heart jumped his chest when she started to fall and he reached out, but she still shrugged away from him.
She leaned against a pine tree. “Listen.”
Gabe listened to the wind whistling through the needles. The limbs popped and cracked.
“I’ve always wondered if the sound trees make is communication. They whine, they groan—”
“Alexandra, honey, please let me wrap you in my arms. Let me get you warm.”
She laughed softly, rubbing her hands down the rough bark before shouting, “You’re still telling me what I need!”
Gabe took a step back.
She asked, “Do you hear them whispering? They’re telling secrets on the wind.”
Looking up at the swaying branches, she held on to the bark, leaning farther back. “Tree, will you tell me your secrets if I listen?”
She pulled herself to the tree, pressing her ear to its rough surface as if she were listening. She closed her eyes. “I’m in love with a man so ashamed of his secrets he won’t share them.” She stopped shivering and slid down the tree.
The bark scraped her skin, and Gabe grimaced seeing the damage, knowing the only reason there was little blood was because she was so damn cold. It was an ugly scrape, and she behaved as though she didn’t even feel it. She tapped her forehead against the tree.
“Tell me your secrets, tree.”
She screamed before looking up at the swaying branches again, tears sliding over her cheeks. “I’m listening. I promise I’m listening now. Tell me your secrets—”
Conor pulled himself from the water, and Gabe whispered, “She’s in trouble. We need to get her inside, get her warm—”
Gabe watched Conor move as close as he dared. He asked, “Tell me your secrets, Alexandra.”
She looked over and saw Conor kneeling in front of her. He was in his clothes and soaking wet. “My secrets?”
“Yes, Alexandra, your secrets.”
She swallowed.
“I’m ready. I want to fall into the abyss. I’ve fought it too long. I’m tired of fighting. Maybe I’ll find a better reality wherever I end up.”
“What does the abyss offer?”
“Freedom.” She sighed, closing her eyes. “I don’t want to feel emotion anymore. I don’t want to be confused by Gabe’s control over you and Jonathon anymore. I don’t want to be in danger anymore.”
“We will protect you,” Conor promised. “Don’t be afraid.”
She looked up at the swaying limbs. “Do you hear them? They said I can sleep if I want to. They’re singing me a lullaby. It’s so beautiful.”
“It is beautiful, mo chroí.”
She pushed her forehead against the tree trunk. “I came out here because I wanted to find Gabe, the guy who used to hear me. I have loved him since I was twelve, but he isn’t here. Someone else is here in his stead. Someone who looks like him and sounds like him… Sometimes I think that guy I loved was just a figment of my imagination. I thought—”
“You thought?” Gabe asked, kneeling as well.
She tried to stand, but stumbled and dropped to her knees. She folded forward, holding herself as she screamed. Gabe stepped forward, but she scrambled backward. “No! No, no, no. I won’t tell you anything! I won’t go anywhere with you. I won’t be tricked by you again!”
“You’re afraid of Gabe?” Conor guessed. “Tell me why.”
“No, you have it reversed. Look at him.” She wagged her finger at Gabe. “He’s terrified. I’ve seen it so many times, and every time it’s landed me in a psych ward.” She started shaking and met Gabe’s gaze. “You’ve never asked me what they do to me there. If you really cared for me, wouldn’t you ask?”
Guilty as charged. A tear slid down Gabe’s cheek. “Tell me now.”
She pushed herself up and rubbed her palm over her scraped ribs, seeming to recognize she’d hurt herself. “They push me; they pull me; they put me where they want me. I only struggle against them because of the pain. Why do they have to be so rough? They never ask if it’s okay to touch me. They force feed me. They force me to stay in bed, or in a chair, or wherever they tell me to stand. Did you know electroconvulsive therapy works seventy-five percent of the time? That’s what the brochure promises. It’s safe, quick, effective.” Alexandra rocked in her own arms. “They sold my parents a pack of lies. They told them I wouldn’t remember a thing.” She opened her eyes. “I remember everything, the curse of perfect recall. I have nightmares still and wake up screaming. It’s one reason I started refusing to sleep.”
Gabe promised, “I won’t call a doctor. You don’t need a hospital. You need warm clothes and a hot drink. Let’s go back, and I’ll make you some tea.”
“Tea, the cure-all.” She chuckled and shook her head, accusing, “Tell her what she wants to hear, and it will be easier to manipulate her, right?”
“No, Alexandra, not that,” Gabe promised. “You can still trust me.”
She used her grip on the tree bark to pull herself to her feet, wincing as her weight caught. She rubbed her forehead and whispered, “I need to tell the president to cancel the wedding.”
Gabe knew he was talking to herself again, but what she’d said made a cold chill run up his spine that had nothing to do with the weather. “What does the president have to do with our wedding, mo ghrá?”
“Apparently everything.” She tipped her head back, looking at the bare branches. “I haven’t been able to tell you. I didn’t know how to tell you—”
Snowflakes filled the air, and she reached to catch them. Gabe crept closer and was barely there in time to catch her as she pitched forward into his arms. “Unconscious. We have to get her inside. Now!”
Conor started rubbing her stomach, creating friction, heat, but Gabe knew she’d need more than that. He was relieved when he heard a vehicle where none should be. The black government SUV pulled in behind them, and Gabe lifted her and hurried her to the warm interior. He told the agent driving, “Thank you for getting to us.”
“It was a bit dicey back there. We owe your neighbor a new fence.”
“Get us home. I’ll deal with the fence later.” He called through the open door to Conor, “Are you coming or not?”
“Does the bullshit stop now, Gabe? Because I won’t stand around and watch you keep killing her slowly.”
“It ends.”
Conor nodded and climbed in. He met the gaze of the two agents in the vehicle. “None of this goes on the official report, understood?”
The driver met Gabe’s gaze in the mirror and then flickered to Gabe’s right. “She is clearly unstable. The president—”
Gabe didn’t know what the agent saw in Conor’s eyes, but had been in the field with Conor enough to know some of his expressions could make a grown man piss himself.
“I’ll make sure the report states only that Alexandra’s vacation was a necessity. She clearly needs time to rest and grieve the loss of her friends.”
“Sounds like a fair assessment, Agent Dower.”
The agent nodded and kept driving.