Chapter 19

nineteen

Nevaeh

When I get out of the bath, the guys are gone and it’s just Kane. He’s standing in the living room window, staring out at the cliff and the dark sea beyond, the picture of both ignited only by the light of the half moon. The lights inside are turned low and there’s a tension in his shoulders that I know I’d never be able to rub away.

Before I came into his life, I imagine he had women in and out of this place. I imagine he was happy and carefree and without the stress of my suddenly crazy life.

Guilt settles heavy in my belly where fear lived only moments before. My entire bath, I’d been unable to battle away the fear that video and the memories of my attack had brought raging to the surface. I’d stayed in the water until the water turned cold, then re-poured the bath with new hot water and waited until that water turned cold.

Still, I’d failed at settling myself. At banishing the fear.

If I knew it’d only take looking at Kane to make it go away, I’d have exited the bath sooner. Still, as I slowly cross the space between us, I think I might prefer the fear to the punishing weight of my guilt.

I stop behind him, feeling so much smaller than usual.

“I’m sorry, Kane.”

He turns slowly, his eyes taking me in from tip to toe. Even in the hot bath, I hadn’t been able to stop the chill. Outside, it had been nearly unbearable, so I’d dressed in the jammies I usually reserve for the cooler months. Thick pink cotton pants and a matching long sleeve button up shirt with little white daisies printed liberally into the fabric.

My damp hair hangs around my shoulders and my face is scrubbed clean of makeup. I’m as plain as plain gets, and yet the man looks at me like I plucked the sun from the sky and hold it cupped between my hands.

I don’t understand him. I don’t understand why he wanted to do this with me—take me and all my problems on.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Nevaeh.”

“This is a lot, Kane. I’m—a lot. I understand completely that today things got very—well—bad. I can leave⁠—”

“You’re not leaving.” The harsh bark of his non-negotiable tone makes me flinch.

“I—” My hands are knotting nervously again. His drop to where they twist over my belly and his jaw clenches. Nerves flip in my belly like fish out of water. I whisper, “You’re angry.”

“Yes.”

Ouch. Why does that hurt so much?

“You’ve tried to help me, and I’m so thankful for it. You have helped me. You’ve made me feel so safe, Kane. I don’t wake up anymore in the night from my nightmares.” The hard in his jaw gets even harder, and I think maybe he’s going to grind his teeth to dust. “But this is more than you bargained for, I know. I understand that it’s too much. We’re in over our heads and I—I can find somewhere else to go so you can move on with your life.”

He steps closer, invading my space and that contradicting smell of him, the spice of flame at night and a cool winter forest. My mind short-circuits when he growls. Yes, growls. There’s no other word for the sound the man makes.

“We made a deal, Nevaeh.”

“I—I know.” I hurry to explain, “I’m just trying to let you out of it.”

“I don’t want out. I need a wife, and you’re it.”

“You can find another wife.” It can’t be that hard. The man’s a rockstar, after all.

He tips his face to mine, his lisp curling around the word roughly, “No.”

“But—”

“I’m pissed off, not because of the fuck who’s stalking you, or the ex who won’t let you go, or the loser ex best friend who won’t take a clue. I’m pissed off because when you needed me, I wasn’t here. I wasn’t here when that email came in because I was recording. I wasn’t here when the panic took hold and refused to let you go—pulled you so deep under that it took me a solid five minutes of restraining you before you realized who. I. Was. That you were safe. I’m pissed off—” His massive body crowds mine, towering over me in a way that might look menacing from the outside, but from the inside—from inside me—it’s anything but. “Because I failed you.”

Something hot stings the backs of my eyes. “Kane.”

“You’re mine, Nevaeh.” The way he says those words, there’s no room for argument. No room for denial. It’s fact. Simple fact I feel in my bones. He believes these words. Wholly. “You’re mine to protect. Mine to cherish. Mine.” His forehead touches mine gently, a ghostly breath of pain expelling from his lungs. “And I failed you.”

I don’t think as I stretch up on my tiptoes, pressing my lips to the corner of his. “You didn’t.”

The noise he makes is a broken one. The shattering of souls, the splintering of will, before his hands are cradling the side of my face and he’s kissing me. It’s the first time the kiss hasn’t been guided by desire, sparked by lust. This kiss is different, consoling. It’s a stroking of tongues and a soothing of souls. It’s need in his most basic, most primal form.

This man is going to undo me. Every stitch and thread untwined until I’m entirely exposed to him, infused by him.

I can already feel him there, scratching at the borders of my heart. It’s been a month—what is this man going to do to me when the year I promised him as his wife is through?

I can’t think about that as he deepens the kiss, his breaths pushing between my lips.

My mind is screaming at me to guard myself from this—from him. But I’m just too tired after the emotional slaughter I endured today. I’m too weak to protect myself against his invasion. To desperate for a future where he kisses me like this for real.

Thankfully, as though sensing that I’m fragile, too fragile for this, Kane pulls away. His hands are still on my face when he breathes, “Kissing you is addictive.”

A surprised laugh shakes my body. I’ve been kissed by more than a few men, and not a single one has made such a claim. “You’re good at pretty words.”

The blue in his eyes darkens. “Nevaeh.”

I interrupt the tongue lashing I’m sure he’s going to give me as I dance from his hold. “I’ve seen your pictures online with all your girlies, Kane. You can’t fool me.”

I’m halfway to the kitchen when he asks low, “What are you doing?”

I turn to see him still standing where I left him, his hands pushed halfway into the pockets of his jeans, head tipped back just so. In this stance, the man looks even bigger, spread out somehow. As if he needs to take more space, huge as he is already.

“I’m making a tea.”

“No.” He gives me a small, firm, no-bullshit shake of his head. “What are you bringing up past women for?”

My heart drops a heavy, violent thud. But I force a teasing smile that totally doesn’t cut it. “No particular reason.”

Lie. Lie! I’m trying to protect my heart from the invasion of you. I’m trying to remind myself that you’re good at this. At playing at real.

I don’t wait for his reply as I duck my head and finish my flee into the kitchen. I’ve got the kettle switched on when Kane stops behind me, his presence, as always, massive.

I do my best to ignore him and my thundering heart, but fail when he sets his big mitts onto the counter on either side of me, towering over me as he cages me in. I feel the heat of him against every inch of me, and yet not a single part of us actually touches.

“Two reasons you brought that up, Sunshine.” There’s danger in his tone as he continues, “One You’re trying to convince yourself you’re like them, meaningless fun. Two. You’re attempting that boundary shit again.” He tips his head to rumble against my ear. “Don’t make me the game, baby. You won’t win.”

“I thought this was a game.”

“Wrong.” I can feel the low simmer of anger radiating off him, but I’m still not afraid of this man. I don’t understand this unshakeable safety I feel in his presence—in the face of his anger.

“How am I wrong?”

“We’re not a game.”

“We’re fooling everyone, Kane. We’re the definition of a game.”

His hands move to my hips, and he physically turns me to face him. Blue eyes pin on mine and he repeats, “We’re not a game.”

Without another word, he breaks contact, moves to the fridge and pulls out a beer. He cracks the top and leaves me in the kitchen. Next thing I hear is the T.V. flicking on.

I release a shuddering breath as I slump against the counter, startling when the kettle beeps behind me. Even though I know I should take my tea to bed, because I’m exhausted down to the bone, I pad to the living room with Kane. The only light is the glow from the television, and as I cast my gaze to the chair where I usually sit, I find I don’t want to sit there. I want to sit by the big man who makes me feel safe. So, I do.

Without saying a word, I snuggle in close to Kane like a real would-be-wife. And like a real husband, he wordlessly pulls me even closer, leaving his arm around my shoulders as we settle in to watch…

“Is this The Witcher?”

“I’ve heard good things.”

“You’ve heard correct.”

He lifts a brow. “You’ve seen it?”

I nod, and he reaches for the remote. “We’ll watch something else.”

“No. I love this show. Besides, Henry Cavill is worth watching again. And again.”

Kane frowns at me. “You think he’s hot?”

“Every woman thinks he’s hot.” I sigh dreamily at the screen. “Look at him.”

From my periphery, I see he does look at him. Then he scowls. Then he turns that scowl on me. “We’re watching something else.”

“Hey!” I grab for the remote but catch his wrist instead. “No. I like this show.”

“I don’t want to sit here while you lust after another man.”

I snort a laugh. “I’m not lusting after him. I’m appreciating the work of art that he is. Besides, you’ll get plenty of your own candy, have no fear.”

His scowl doesn’t shift, but he tosses the remote to the side as he mutters, “I have all the sweet I can handle.”

I beam at him. “You think I’m sweet?”

“Sweet and sticky. Like toasted marshmallow and caramel cream.”

I feel both brows climb high. “That’s creative.”

He shrugs and we settle in to watch the first scene of The Witcher. I try not to let my drool be too obvious, which really isn’t that hard because the first scene isn’t exactly pretty. Still, Kane’s scowl doesn’t shift as he watches the sexy man on screen battle a monster.

When I finally finish with my tea, Kane takes my cup and his empty beer and sets them on the coffee table before leaning back again. This time, he takes my legs and pulls them over his so I’m partially sitting in his lap, and then I feel his hand creep slowly up the cuff of my pant leg, his fingertips moving in soft circles against my leg. His touch feels like heaven. It’s in no way sexual, but it alights me anyway. I think this man could hold my hand and turn me on. Any contact with him sets me on fire.

I honestly don’t get it.

In past relationships, I was for the sex, but not overcome with the need for it. Rarely did I initiate out of desire, but more out of obligation I’m confident I hid well. With Kane, if we slipped and fell into sex against all better judgement, I don’t think I could easily refrain from relapsing again and again.

Midway through episode one, Kane says, “I’m scheduled to perform tomorrow night.”

I straighten. “Okay.”

Kane has performed a few times since I’ve lived with him. Lucky for me, they’d just returned from a tour before I’d thrown myself at him in the club, changing the trajectory of both our lives. So, he hasn’t had to perform a whole lot, but since their album is recently new and they’re still pushing it heavily, they’ve done a few events—all of which I’d stayed home for.

“I’m not comfortable leaving you here without me.”

“Oh.”

“After tonight—” He wipes a hand roughly down his face. “The thought of that fucker finding you and me not being here⁠—”

“I can come.”

He squints at me. “You don’t mind?”

“Kane, I’d love to see you play.”

“Yeah?” A smile curls his mouth. I’m struck with the urge to kiss him.

I don’t. “Yeah.”

“Why haven’t you?”

“Honestly?” I ask, and blush as I focus on my lap as Kane waits. “I’m afraid to go out too much until we’re—until we’re married.”

“Why?” His hand begins to draw lazy circles into the skin of my leg again.

“Because I don’t want him to find me and demand I come back to him. If—if I’m really bound to you—if I’m really yours—he can’t—” I can’t look at him as I whisper, “He can’t take me. Not even the Senator’s son is above that law.”

Kane doesn’t hesitate as he says, “I thought you wanted to wait until I’ve met your family before we tied the knot.”

“I do but…” I shrug.

“You want to get married, Sunshine, we can do it tomorrow.”

My eyes shoot to his. “What?”

I’m pretty sure I heard him wrong with the rush of blood that surges in my ears. He can’t be serious. Tomorrow?

“It’ll be a small thing. You, me, and a couple witnesses. We can do the whole big thing later, but we’ll be married. Legally, you will be mine.”

I consider. “Mama’s going to kill me.”

Kane just keeps studying me. “She’ll forgive you. Love makes people do crazy things all the time.”

I laugh. “If anything sells this fake love, it’ll be me marrying you without my family present. They—they’re important to me.”

He rolls his lips at the mention of this fake love but agrees with a nod. “I’ll arrange it first thing.” He gives a low chuff of a chuckle. “Your mom won’t be the only one who’s pissed.”

“Well, at least we’ll suffer their wrath together.”

With that, we sit back to watch more of The Witcher. Only, I’m not thinking about the show. I’m not seeing the man I’ve crushed on since early Superman. I’m thinking about the fact that tomorrow I’ll be married to Kane Volkov.

I’ll be a married woman.