Chapter Fifty-Three
Ma asks, “Are you sure you don’t wanna come along with us?”
Saskia, Jahleel, and I have just finished up with lunch at Mad46. It’s their last day here in the city, and with nothing scheduled, they’ve decided to spend it shopping.
“Positive,” I say.
For one, I hate shopping. And two, she’s only asking in an attempt to keep me occupied. She’s somehow convinced if she leaves me alone, she’ll find me dangling from a noose when she gets back.
Why? Well, I told her all about Jaxon.
Everything, this time. What he does, what I do, and everything that went down. She understands, and she doesn’t judge, but she’s worried because I’ve not grieved for him.
“Grieving is healthy and curative,” she told me. “The only way to get over something or someone is to admit the loss and go through the grieving process. Otherwise, you’ll just bury the pain inside you, and that will affect the way you treat newcomers in your life. And not for the better.”
But there’s nothing for me to grieve, is there? Because Jaxon’s not gone.
He’s still around. Stalking me. Marking me. Claiming me. He’s become my nightmare. The dream I never wake up from. He’s become the thing I hate and the thing I crave. I feel him in the beat of my heart, in the pulse of my veins.
No, he’s gone nowhere. He’s right here. Inside me. He’s conned himself into my head and my heart, and he has no intention of leaving.
So, no, big sis, there’s nothing for me to grieve over.
You grieve when you lose something. And I’ve not lost Jaxon King. I’ve gained him. Ten intense heartbreaks over.
Her forehead crinkles with concern, but she lets it go and rounds the table to plant a kiss on my cheek before leaving me to myself to not grieve.
I pull my newest volume of Xxendra, the Virgin Warrior from my handbag, and signal the waiter.
I’m ashamed of myself, but I can’t help it, I’m hooked. Each time I tell myself this will be the last volume I read, I find myself back at the comic store purchasing the next issue. Xxendra is a total badarse, and I dearly want to be her.
After the waiter comes over and gives me a refill on my iced tea, I thumb the comic open and settle in for a good read.
I’m almost halfway through the riveting graphic novel when a voice sounds from above. “Must be a damn good read to have you grinning like that.”
At the nearness of the voice, I look up and see a handsome bloke standing behind the chair across the table. He has pale-blue eyes, sun-streaked blond hair—the back and sides cut short and top left longer. A strong jaw and a crooked nose that tells a tale of being broken more than once.
He’s undeniably hot. But he’s not a pretty boy. Not a poem. He’s a drum-banging, cymbal-clashing, guitar-screaming rock song. His wickedly attractive features exaggerate the syllables of mischief.
His height and the broadness of his shoulders are imposing, and my unfailing memory reminds me where I’ve seen that body, that hair, that jawline before. In Philadelphia. He’s the one whose attention those two receptionists were preening over.
But who is he, and what does he want?
“It is,” I say uninvitingly. I close the comic and set it down on the table. Then, with the slowness of a slug, I take the last gulp of my iced tea before I tilt my head up to acknowledge the stranger. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Nah.” He chuckles and, without permission, pulls out the chair and lowers his linebacker body into it. He’s wearing black jeans, a black turtleneck sweater, and a chocolate-brown leather jacket. “There’s a family rumor. Some brainy Brit’s got my little brother’s head done in and my father begging for mercy. I had to come see for myself what the minx who’s got my bro and dad on a leash looks like.”
“Excuse me?”
Jaxon has a brother? A brother who looks like this? A brother who doesn’t hide his effrontery as Jaxon does but wears it like a studded leather jacket?
He looks at me for a beat, then shrugs. “Of course they didn’t tell you. Big surprise. But yeah, I’m a King.”
“You’re older,” I say, suspicious. “Alessa—”
“Is not my mother,” he informs me. “I’m a bastard. Dad knocked up my mom in high school.”
His gaze shifts to something over my shoulder, and his smirk deepens.
“Thought I told you to stay away from my girl, King.” The growl comes from behind me.
No.
No, no, no. No, no, no. He’s not here. At my table.
“Never taken orders from you before, and ain’t gonna start now,” big brother King says.
The air behind me shifts, and a big, heated palm rests possessively on my shoulder. “It was a warning. Not an order.” Jaxon could be talking about the weather, his tone is so flat and unflappable.
King, on the other hand, just seems like a troublemaker as he grins and holds up his hands. “Just wanted to meet the girl that’s got you and Dad whipped.” He eyes me and winks. “Starting to think you guys are exaggerating. Look at her, she looks so innocent, innocuous.”
“You, of all people, should know that looks are deceiving,” Jaxon replies. “Time’s up. Don’t you have a girl to stalk?”
“She’s gone to L.A. for a wedding, so I’ve got time to meet my new sister.”
What?
“You’re stalking someone?” I ask, incredulous that he’d admit it out loud.
Without shame or apology, he lifts a shoulder. “Only the love of my life.”
Carefully, slowly, I ask, “Does she know she’s the love of your life?”
“Soon enough.” Producing a business card from his jacket, he slides it across the table with two fingers. “Let’s meet for drinks sometime. I’ll tell you everything you need to know about my little brother.”
I glance down at the card.
Christopher King
Consultant
What the hell does he consult about?
Annoyed, Jaxon says, “Be gone, brother.”
King rolls his eyes and flips him off as he leaves.
Jaxon doesn’t move. His hand is burning a hole into my shoulder. “Your time’s up, too, babe.”
A lump lumbers down my throat. “Pardon me?”
“The only reason you’re here and not with me is because I knew you wanted to spend time with your family.” His voice is still matter-of-fact. “They leave tomorrow. After that, we can resume our relationship.”
The man is clearly oblivious.
“We don’t have a relationship,” I remind him bitterly.
“You’re right. We don’t. We have something more than that. We have a blazing meteorite.”
“We have lies,” I counter.
“We have a tempest.”
I grind my teeth. “I want you to leave me alone.”
For a long moment, he’s silent. Then, his mouth is at my ear. “Did it hurt?”
I don’t give a shite, but he’s obviously not going away unless I play along. “What?”
“Seeing me kiss that girl. Finding out the truth about my family.” His breath is hot. It sends shivers down my spine. “Thinking of me.”
I seriously contemplate not answering. I contemplate just getting up and leaving without looking back. But that’s all I can do—contemplate. Because the truth is what I really want to do is spin around and throw myself into his arms, I miss him so much.
The truth is his hand on my shoulder brings me more peace and assurance of safety than anything else in the world. The truth is I miss being happy. And being happy means being with him. So all I do is contemplate.
I squeeze my eyes shut and admit in a whisper, “It hurts every day.”
“And you’ve never wondered why?” His voice is so calm, so confident. “You, Timberly Day, knower of facts and experiment enthusiast, never sought to understand why your heart hurts so hard every time you think of me and all I’ve done to you? You’ve never tried to understand why you can’t resist me? Why you’re so mad at me right now? Why you can’t just get up and walk away from me without looking back, even though you wish you could?”
Oh hell and damnation.
“Get out of my head,” I grit out.
“I’m not in your head, babe. Don’t you get it?” His hand moves down from my shoulder, over my breast, settling right over my heart. “I’m in here.”
Boom!
Just like that, my heartbeat shoots off, galloping, galloping, galloping. Racing to a finish line that is outside my chest…and inside his.
His hand presses down on me, absorbing the raging beat of my heart. “It hurts because you’ve fallen in love with me.” He nips at my earlobe. “And you’ve marked me with that love. So, I can’t let you go. I want that bespectacled, fact-spewing love forever.”
I’m kind of speechless.
Suddenly, his mouth is gone from my ear, and his hand from my heart. “Enjoy your family’s last night here. Tomorrow, you come back to me.”
A chill settles at my back, and I don’t have to turn around…to know he’s gone.