MEGHAN WAS PRETTY pleased with how just a few embellishments changed the bedroom into a seduction. There was nothing like a credit card and a few hours to kill in a Pier 1 store when it came to going over the top.
She knew she’d done well when her alpha husband turned up in the doorway and nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw the scene she set. Sumptuous fabrics and lavishly appointed accessories covered every space. Brightly colored silk and velvet pillows, brass lanterns with flickering candles, fresh flowers, and red lace panels draped over the lamps gave the room a Parisian brothel vibe.
She had so much fun creating her wicked vision that Meghan decided from here on out, she’d be amassing her own little trunk of goodies—Alex had his secret stash of toys and equipment, so why couldn’t she? Turning their bedroom sanctuary in the Villa into a Bedouin tent or a tropical paradise seemed so apropos for them.
“You’ve been busy, I see,” he mumbled.
“And you haven’t,” she teased with an arched brow when she saw he was still fully dressed.
Boom. An innocent remark but a parade of serious emotions marched across her husband’s face. The phone call.
Part of her wanted to ask. She’d noticed how deftly he skirted around any mention of the St. Johns when he laid out his information confession. But she’d held her tongue because Meghan also knew something else.
Last year, when the anniversary of the attack that left her husband scarred for life and took the future away from her best friend came around, he’d had an episode so deeply visceral and powerful, their budding relationship nearly crashed and burned. She’d been thinking a lot about what Drae had said to her at the time. That if she took Alex on, it had to be with the full understanding that he was always going to suffer the emotional and physical aftermath of that horrible day. Loving her was his salvation, but that didn’t mean all those feelings and the inner agony he felt over the whole fucking war was going to magically go away.
The anniversary came and went quietly this year. She didn’t bring it up or let him know she focused on him like a goddamn laser, but she had noticed he was especially clingy around the time. Alex was not the clingy type, but it’d been hard to miss all the ways he found to remain by her side during those few days when he was at his most vulnerable.
And then there was the silent shadow looming over everything. Not the anniversary or Alex’s need for redemption. Not the St. John problem or finding a way to fix that shit. No. This particular pall had everything to do with whatever the hell her husband did when the military called him in.
All of that was why he was out of whack. He was listing to one side, and she had heard him more than once groan and struggle in the morning when he tried to stand up. Tension had a way of starting a chain reaction, and it was up to her to keep him from having a setback.
Now that she knew what she did about the crap swirling at home, she definitely had to get him in shape before they were sucked into that drama.
He was struggling with whatever he knew—deciding how to tell her. But that would have to wait because she had work to do.
Some time later, after chasing most of the tension from Alex’s big body, she went to work on his side. The one she called his warrior’s quilt—a patchwork of scars and damaged flesh she found beautiful in a fearsome way. Knowing what he survived, what he endured, she felt a lump of emotion clog her throat.
Reaching for a bottle of essential oils she’d blended earlier, Meghan squirted some into her palm. In long, slow strokes, she rubbed the soothing, scented oil along his side. After a few moments, he let out a low, rumbling moan.
When she was working on his shoulders trying to release his tension and soothe the muscles, sometimes it felt like she needed a damn jackhammer to get in there good. It wasn’t unusual for her fingers to plead for mercy. But when it came to the Major’s hips and lower back, she’d discovered a lighter touch worked wonders. Instead of digging in and searching out the knot and blockages, she stroked gently and used her hands to move the energy around.
Breathing slow, deep, and steady, she gave him a calming rhythm to mimic. Before applying more oil, she raised her hands up and cupped them near her face, taking a long inhale so the oils became a part of her.
She felt like a healer from a long line of women since the dawn of time that could channel the spirit and restore strength. Every fiber in her being focused on Alex. With each glide of her hands across his back and down his legs, she sent a healing vibe—her unique combination of white light mixed with love that was meant only for him.
The tension left his body, and he relaxed into her touch. A little flutter in her belly almost diverted her attention, but she reasoned it was just some part of her recognizing some part of him. Her other half.
The last thing she expected was for him to quickly rise up and sit on his butt. Startled, she searched his face and gave him her hand when he reached for it. There wasn’t going to be a happy ending like the one she imagined.
She gave him every bit of her attention.
Meghan’s hands on his body were the next best thing to heaven. She had an uncanny way of knowing where and how to touch him. Alex succumbed to her healing caress and let the emotions he’d been bottling up wash over him.
This was new. The opening of the floodgates. She’d made this change happen by simply refusing to let either of them linger in the past or obsess over possibilities. Facing his demons wasn’t always easy, but she showed him the strength he didn’t know he had.
Their time here had run out. Tori’s worrisome message was the start of them going back to reality. And that reality was a shit-ton more complicated than he let on.
Heat gathered in his chest and worked its way into his gut. A tremor of awareness like none he’d ever felt before shot up his spine into his head. Clarity, when it came, could be blinding.
They were partners in life. A team. Someday, god willing, they’d start a family. She brought light to his darkness, and a sense of contentment he hadn’t known was possible. He wasn’t going to relax completely or find some sense in any of this until she was on his lap, whispering in his ear and telling him everything was going to be okay.
When he sat up, it felt like one of those universal energies she went on about had lifted him upright and cleared the cobwebs from his mind. Reaching for the hand of his beloved, Alex looked at her and for a second became lost in her bewitching eyes.
Then the words came, and he let them tumble out without filters.
“It was Tori who called. She’s in trouble and needs us. I’m petrified what it means. You know I’ll have to kill Drae if he’s done anything stupid.” He looked away, unable to meet her eyes when he thought about what Drae betraying Tori would mean for them all.
Instead of displeasure or censure from Meghan, she proved what a perfect mate she was and shared something deeply personal about the St. John situation.
“I knew before the wedding something was wrong. And I don’t think it’s anything Draegyn may or may not have done.”
Really? He brought her hand to his mouth for a kiss.
“Baby,” she cooed as she touched the side of his face with her fingers. “I’ve been beating myself up for weeks. Even without knowing what was going on, I knew it wasn’t going to be good. I should have done more before we left to straighten her out.”
“Why do you think it’s her?”
She shrugged. Pure Meghan. He knew what the gesture meant. Somewhere along the way, his empathic wife had picked up on a vibe or had an intuitive hunch.
“She was a physical mess after Daniel was born. It happens, y’know?”
Fuck yeah, he knew. Poor Tori. She’d had a rough time of it.
“Anyway, I sort of sensed how out of balance she was, but well, ugh, I was wrapped up in the wedding and being the bride-to-be.”
He was quick to assure her. “You’re not to blame for anyone else’s problems.”
“Oh, my god.” She chuckled. “Do you hear yourself?”
He smirked. She had a point. For him to tell anyone they weren’t responsible for others was eye-rolling gold.
“So what? You think a few yoga sessions and some crystals are going to make everything okay again?”
She chuffed a groan mixed with a chuckle. “Hell no. If only, right? Look,” she said, “I’m not a doctor, but I think what she needs is a better one than who she’s currently seeing. Hopefully, Drae hasn’t done anything we can’t repair, and as far as Tori goes, I’m already researching holistic practitioners specializing in postpartum care.”
Of course she was. He should have known. Meghan had a spiritual connection with Lacey and Victoria. Enforcing a contact-free honeymoon only cut off their daily means of chitchat but that didn’t mean they weren’t still communicating on another level.
“There’s more,” he admitted gravely.
“I know. It’s okay, Alex. You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
Relief washed over him.
“But in the meantime, may I ask you a question?”
He did a double take of her face at the unusual request. Meghan didn’t ask for permission. It was one of her lines in the sand. Early on, he’d made it clear she wasn’t to leave their bed in the morning until he said she could. After trampling all over his alpha edict, she’d ended up with his handprint on her bottom. Lesson learned. But she found a clever way around asking. Instead of a plea, she simply told him why there’d be a change in routine. In a way, she was still asking permission, but he let her think that by telling him in advance, she’d found a way to manage his expectations without being too yielding.
It was her submissive tone and seeking his consent that got his attention.
He pulled her to stand between his legs and took hold of her face. “You may ask me anything, my love.”
Resting her hands on his, she smiled into his eyes. Then she made a serious frowny face that he recognized as her investigative side. Her inner private detective, for lack of a better way to put it.
“Um, Alex.”
Oh, jeez. She was using his name. And choosing her words carefully. Had he stepped in it somehow?
They settled into a relaxed embrace. He kept her close but dropped his hands from her face. She rested a hip against his thigh and slid her hands down to either side of his waist. They both ignored the erection he had no hope of hiding.
“Okay,” she murmured. “Maybe not a question.” The charming half grin told him she was flying without a net. “How about an observation followed by a long pause should you care to comment?”
He slid a finger beneath the strap of the stretchy lace camisole she wore for a massage and adjusted it on her shoulder.
“You are good.” He chuckled. She smiled with an air of pleasure at his mocking praise. “I do believe, Mrs. Marquez, that you imagine I’m easily managed by a few clever word placements.”
“Who, me?” she asked with a shocked gasp. “Clever?” He smirked once he was pretty sure he knew what she’d say next. “Ah, shut up.”
And there you have it!
“Ask your question, woman, or make a damn comment. Whatever. Just get to it before you piss me off.”
“Piss you off,” she shrieked with unabashed delight. “Me? Piss you off? Bwahahaha!”
She deserved the hefty swat he delivered to her ass. She squealed with surprise and smacked him on the chest.
“Cut it out. I think your happy ending just got blown out of the water so don’t tease.”
“Yeah, about that,” he told her while slowly stroking his hands up and down her arms. “Sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Well, you had better because it took all afternoon to set the stage.”
He looked around again at the transformed room. With a heavy sigh dripping with sarcasm, he screwed up his face and complained, “More shit to pack up and drag home.”
“Oh! You mean like that whatever the hell you dragged in the other day? Black boxes, wires, controllers. Major,” she smirked with a heavy dollop of mockery, “another gaming system you do not need.”
“Game system?” he crowed with fake outrage. “Bite your tongue, woman. That was no game system. I’ll have you know that my hologram in a box idea paid off big time with the FBI.”
He was trying to be funny and was confident he was succeeding when she pressed her face into his chest and hugged him tight.
“Nice try. Hologram in a box, sheesh.” She giggled quietly. “More like a death ray with teeth.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m hilarious, and you have my number. Understood. Now, back to your question slash comment.”
She stayed on his chest but tilted her head to look up at him. He liked the way her arms stayed firm about his waist.
“Why don’t you ever go to church with me?”
He sighed. Oh. Well, damn. No dancing around the question. No long-winded comment. Nope. She went straight to the heart of it.
“I didn’t know it was important to you, honey.” He half shrugged. “N-B-D. I’ll tag along if it’d make you happy.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she started worrying her bottom lip with nips and tugs. Alex reviewed his response for red flags but found none. Where was she going with this train of thought?
Releasing her hold on him, she straightened and gave him a wary look. “I’m not asking for me.”
Okay. He raised his brows and hung on her next words.
This time, she placed her hands lovingly on either side of his face. “You have a deeply spiritual side. Going all the way back to our first interactions and the letters we exchanged, I felt that part of you. I suppose, in a way, it was one of the things we shared.”
There wasn’t anything to say. She wasn’t incorrect. Those letters were a part of him—part of what remained of his soul after the war ripped the rest of it from his body. She was the only one he ever shared with on such deep a level.
“It means a great deal to my parents that you’ve completely supported my faith and totally given yourself over to the way I see the world and live my life.”
He knew already this. He and Paddy O’Brien shared many a conversation about Meghan’s unique perspective. They’d laughed about how both of them knew way more about yoga and deep breathing than they wanted to admit in a men’s locker room. But it was Alex’s unequivocal obeisance for any and all of his woman’s spiritual needs that made his future father-in-law his most ardent supporter.
She needed a sacred commitment. Check.
She wanted a church wedding. Check.
He was building her a private chapel—a belated wedding gift she was as yet unaware of. Check.
Whatever Meghan needed that was in his power to give, he was all over that shit. If it meant so damn much to her, he’d even drag his sorry ass to church.
“But the question I asked wasn’t about me.” She placed her hand over his heart. “I see what’s in here, Alex. I’m not asking why you don’t escort me to Sunday services. I’m asking why you don’t do it for yourself. For what’s in here.”
He reached for the hand patting his chest and gave a hearty squeeze. Now, he got it. She wanted to know why he was on an emergency-only basis with God.
Kissing the palm of her hand, he kept hold of it as an anchor and dug deep for an answer worthy of the woman asking the question. Only total honesty would do. He searched for his truth and the simplest way to explain.
“I respect the faith of my heritage. Kind of have to,” he offered with a wry chuckle. “After all, got an uncle working for the big guy.”
She nudged him playfully and rolled her eyes.
The years rolled away, and he remembered what it was like to gather with his men, his brothers, his warrior comrades—of every faith and of every color, creed and sex—on bended knee in the middle of a fucking desert war, waiting on the military chaplain to offer a blessing. And after he did, they’d stand, lock, load, and go out and try not to be killed. Some succeeded. Some didn’t.
“We broke up, me and the dude upstairs, when, well … you know when.”
Her tiny nod and the way she looked at him said she knew quite well when and how and why.
“Breakups are hard,” his wise wife murmured. “And sometimes unavoidable.”
It meant a lot to him that she understood. And understood without censure or trying to change the facts. God was in short supply on the battlefield. And after? The after left him with a bad case of don’t-give-a-fuck. No way to nice it up.
“Did you ever get closure?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” she began in a warm tone laced with a concern he heard loud and clear, “isn’t relationship closure, especially a relationship with deep roots, supposed to be about letting go of what was?”
He nodded. Yep, sure.
“And sort of honoring the past for what it was while evolving to something new.”
Can’t say I ever thought of it in those terms.
He said the first thing that came to his mind. “How do I do that? Evolve to something new?”
“You could start by going to confession.”