Chapter 30

“ D arian?” A squeeze of my hand.

I feel like I’m being pulled out of a cold lake, drifting higher and higher through murky water.

I finally resurface, blinking against blinding brightness while a doctor shines a light in my eyes. “Welcome back, Darian,” he says, pocketing his flashlight and smiling at someone in the room.

My mouth feels scratchy and dry like a desert. No amount of swallowing helps. An incessant beeping noise filters in and out of my consciousness. I try to lift my head, but someone shushes me and says, “You need to take it easy, honey.”

“Honey?”

Through my haze, I recognize Sinclair’s amused baritone.

“What am I supposed to call him? Asshat?” a female voice snaps.

I know that voice. It’s the voice of an angel. Fuck. What kind of drugs did they give me?

“Darian, baby, can you hear me?”

I roll my head on the pillow, trying to adjust to the bright lights.

Soft fingers stroke my cheek, while the most entrancing, expressive eyes I’ve ever seen gaze down at me. I pause as I notice my heart rate picking up on the monitor. “Cecilia?”

“Hi, honey.”

Sinclair snickers, and she shoots him a brief glare before her green eyes capture me again and soften. Leaning down, she presses her forehead to mine. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” I croak, reaching up to stroke my fingers through her cascading locks. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

She eases back and studies my face. “I’m better now.”

I turn my head to see Sinclair watching us with an unreadable expression. He notices me looking, and I raise my fist for us to do our secret handshake we used to do as kids.

Chuckling, he bumps his knuckles to mine one last time. “You gave us a fright. You know you can’t die on us, right? No way in hell am I looking after your feisty wife. My home already resembles a botanical garden or a damn jungle. The last pussy I brought home asked me if I was into Tarzan cosplay.”

“Let me guess, you rolled with it?”

“Hell yes, you think I’m going to turn down an opportunity like that? I had a fake vine installed on the roof and everything. You should have seen her swinging in her little leopard bikini.”

“Gross,” Cecilia mutters, but she’s smiling, and it’s the most beautiful smile. In fact, my gaze lingers on her mouth long after she stops.

“Of course I wasn’t so lucky,” Sinclair grumbles. “When I tried to swing, it snapped, and I almost broke my tailbone.”

“That explains why you couldn’t sit comfortably for a week,” I say, laughing despite my sore throat, and we share a smile before he clears his throat and jerks his thumb toward the door. “I’ll go speak to the doctor and get us drinks.”

Cecilia wipes tears from her cheeks as he walks out, hoping I won’t catch her crying. I reach for her small hand, interlacing my fingers with hers. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“No…” She shakes her head. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I’m the reason behind your tears. I don’t ever want to be the reason you cry.”

One minute, she’s seated, and the next, her plush mouth is on mine. I tangle my fingers in her hair, thrusting my tongue between her sweet lips.

She tastes of heaven and my tailor-made addiction, of life and reasons to fight.

We break apart, her heavy gaze flicking between my lips and my eyes. I bump my nose against hers and whisper, “I didn’t dream a lot, but when I did, it was of you.”

She beams, her eyes twinkling with happiness, and we kiss again to the soundtrack of the heartbeat monitor and fading conversations in the hallway. Cecilia moans into my mouth, causing my cock to twitch at the sound despite my current state. When I break away, I’m breathing heavily.

Fuck me. This woman drives me insane. I could be at death’s door and still want to fill her up and make her scream my name.

She bites her lip to stop grinning. “If you hadn’t woken up from a coma mere minutes ago…” Her voice takes on a flirtatious edge. “I would climb on top of you and ride that fat cock of yours.”

Little tease.

I groan, my dick aching at the playful smile on her lips and the filthy promise behind her words. “I’m fine. Look at me. I’m practically brand new.”

She pats my cheek, smiling even wider. “Be a good boy and rest up, and I might reward you later.”

“Fine. I’ll entertain this game of yours for now,” I reply with sigh, “but as soon as we leave this place, I’ll show you who’s in charge.”

“Ooh,” she teases, leaning in to hover with her tempting lips inches from mine. “So bossy.”

I grind my teeth, equally loving and hating how she has the upper hand. I like to exert dominance, to make my subject bend to my will, yet here I am, ready to do just about anything to make her happy. The way she’s smiling at me is sexier than any skimpy little outfit she could wear. If I believed in fairytales, I’d call her a siren because my dick just needs me to simply lay eyes on her to stand at attention. It’s almost humiliating.

“I think,” she starts, taking pity on me, “that you deserve a treat.”

“Yeah?” My heart rate accelerates.

“Yeah,” Cecilia whispers, reaching down and plunging her hand into her joggers. She watches me closely as she fingers herself. “After all, you did kill someone for me and nearly got yourself beaten to death.”

“I would die for you any day,” I reply, eyes riveted on her slick fingers when she pulls them out from her joggers and sucks them clean.

My heart sinks with disappointment, but then her lips are on mine, and I lose all train of thought when I taste her arousal on her tongue. I kiss her harder, groaning into her mouth. No other woman tastes as fucking sweet as her. No other woman drives me this crazy. I’m famished.

“Let me eat your cunt,” I beg—yes, beg—pulling her back to my hungry mouth when she tries to move away. “Let me fuck you with my tongue.”

“Baby,” she says, her voice breathy with laughter. “You’ve just woken up from a coma. You need to rest.”

“No…” I frantically shake my head. “Who told you that? Dr. Boring out there with the silver goatee? Ignore him and his ridiculous advice. He’s just trying to get me killed. What I need is your pussy in my face.”

Cecilia pulls away with a blush coloring her cheeks. Her eyes sparkle with happiness as she sits back in her chair.

She’s too far away for my liking. If I had it my way, she’d never leave my side—she’d have a permanent seat on my face or dick.

“Think of it as an incentive to get better.”

I flop my head back down dramatically. Sinclair enters the room with coffee in takeaway mugs and an old book tucked into his belt. He hands Cecilia a mug and gives her a warning look, which makes me frown and try to decipher their silent conversation. It’s useless.

Then he turns to me and smiles, tossing a weathered paperback onto my stomach. I pick it up and read the title, looking at him questioningly. “ Kama Sutra ?”

“Funny story. I found this cute little bookshelf in the cafeteria for used books. One of the elderly ladies serving coffee beamed when I complimented the wallpapered shelves. Then she scurried over on her eager little legs, surprisingly fast for a pensioner, and handed me the book. I took one look at the title and thought it could be perfect for your book club.”

“You complimented the wallpaper?” I can’t quite keep the disbelief out of my voice.

Sinclair simply smirks, slamming his hand down on my shoulder and jostling me hard enough to make my head spin. “It’s good to have you back, man. Now do some reading and rest so we can get you out of here. Your girl will start to stink up the place if she doesn’t have a shower soon.”

Cecilia flips him off, and he winks as he walks to the door, then he turns with his hand on the frame. “I mean it, Darian. Rest up.”

“Dammit.” A deep sigh, followed by thick silence. “Are you sure? I can’t be in two fucking places at once.”

I’ve been snoozing on and off most of the day when Sinclair’s voice wakes me up. He’s over by the large windows with his broad back to me, his shoulders tense as he pulls his hand from his pocket to rub his brow. Outside, night has fallen and the full moon outside bathes him in a silvery hue.

“She’ll bite my head off if she finds out I have her shadowed. She won’t care that it’s for her own good.” He snorts at whatever the person on the other end has to say. “You clearly don’t know Darian very well. If he were ever to find himself pussy whipped, it was always going to be by a woman like Cecilia. She’s headstrong and doesn’t take his shit.” His eyes meet mine over his shoulder. “Look, I’ve got to go. Don’t lose sight of her, but tell the others to be discreet.” Hanging up, he pockets his phone.

“Where’s my wife?” I ask, my throat dry and scratchy.

Sinclair strides over to me, takes a seat in the chair, and hands me the glass of water on the nightstand. I gulp it down, some spilling onto my chin. After placing it back beside the bedside lamp, I settle and look at him expectantly.

“She’s gone home to shower and sleep.”

I’m already pining for her. It’s pathetic at this point how much I love having her by my side at all times, but maybe I need to give myself some slack.

“Who was that on the phone?”

Sinclair’s eyes darken before he runs a hand down his tired face and sits forward with his elbows on his knees. Restless energy pours from him in waves as he hangs his head. “The Bishop knows you have her.”

“Fuck…” My voice is low as a sense of dread moves through me.

“He’ll come for you,” Sinclair says, lifting his heavy head, eyes brimming with regret. “I don’t know what to do here, Darian. I’ve got our most trusted Pawns shadowing Cecilia and two men stationed outside this room, but you know he won’t stop until you’re dead.”

“Well…” I stare up at the ceiling. “We both know I can’t go back.”

There’s no returning to the Exodus now. I could only hide Cecilia in plain sight for so long before the Bishop figured it out. This was always going to happen sooner or later.

The scent of fresh linen surrounds me as I roll my head on the soft pillow to look at Sinclair. His shoulders slump as if the weight of the world is weighing him down. Bloodshot eyes gaze at me through dark lashes, and he jiggles his knee for a beat. “Fuck, Darian… We’re screwed. What are we going to do?”

“We’re not going to do anything.”

His face pinches, about to retort, but I can’t bring him down with me. This is my mess and my mess alone. I know he’s loyal to me, just like I will always be to him, but I need him to put his own safety first for once.

Realization dawns on him, and he straightens, growing larger and wider. “Don’t you fucking dare, Darian! First her and now you?”

“Her?” I ask, confused, but he shoots to his feet and tugs hard at his ruffled silver hair while pacing the room.

He jabs a finger in my direction. “We’ve been friends since the fucking womb. Do you really think you can push me away now? Fuck you, Darian. Fuck you to hell and back.” A bitter look comes over his face, his jaw tight, as he runs his hand over his stubble. “Why did it have to be her? Couldn’t you have fallen for some sweet little Elder’s daughter with soft thighs and nothing in her brain? Why the van der Meer’s daughter?”

I open my mouth to reply, but he makes a throttling motion in the air, pretending to shake sense into me. “Don’t answer that. I know far too fucking well why you fell for her, but dammit, you couldn’t have thought with your brain for once instead of your fucking genitals? We wouldn’t be in this mess if you didn’t stick your dick inside Dalton’s property and then put your ring on her finger.”

“What did you mean when you said, ‘first her’?”

Pausing, his brows pull low.

I shoot upright. “She’s going to run.” I’m out of bed in the next second, pulling off wires and making for the door.

“Are you fucking nuts? You’re not in shape to leave yet. You suffered a brain bleed, you fucking moron.” Sinclair wrestles me back, and I curse that he’s bigger and stronger than me when it matters. If I weren’t so weak, I could give him a good fight, but even I can admit I’m not in good shape.

He shoves me down. “Don’t move, or I’ll shackle you to the bed.”

“I’m not one of your fuckbuddies.”

In the next second, he’s punching me square in the jaw, then shakes out his fist, cursing under his breath. “You deserved that.”

I wiggle my sore jaw. “You’ve got a mean hook on you.”

Adjusting his circular glasses, he smiles weakly and flops into Cecilia’s chair. “Fuck,” he breathes, looking defeated, rubbing his brow.

“I can’t let her leave. I need to find her before she runs.”

“She hasn’t run yet.” He sighs. “You’re not in the shape to leave. Will you please just trust that I’ve got this under control?”

I hate to admit that he’s right. I can barely stand upright, never mind chasing my wife. Although it’s a blow to my ego to admit defeat, maybe now it’s time to trust my best friend. “I’ve never seen you like this before,” I admit as I adjust the bed into a seated position, the soft whirring filling the room.

He lowers his hand, eyes averted. “What can I say? I’ve been under a lot of stress lately.”

“I remember it all now.”

His eyes snap to mine.

“When I was tied up in that wardrobe. It was like…” My brows knit. “All these memories came flooding back, like a four-dimensional movie I couldn’t stop. Before then, it was just nightmares, snippets, but this…” I swallow around a thick lump in my throat, my chest tightening and making it hard to breathe. “I remembered it all. Every single painful detail.”

Sinclair scoots forward on his chair, his long legs stretching out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. His creased suit jacket pulls around his shoulders, and his loosened black tie sits at an angle, yet he’s never looked more alert.

I shrug.

While we’re friends through thick and thin, it’s still hard as fuck to admit I’m full of flaws. Flaws that make me human, but flaws nonetheless.

“Can I be brutally honest?” I ask, unable to look him in the eye.

“Of course.”

Dragging my lip through my teeth and allowing the bite of pain to ground the strange ache growing in my chest, I gaze into the distance while Sinclair gives me space to formulate my thoughts.

“I feel like the benefits of this friendship are a one-way street, you know? Like I’m just siphoning and stealing and dragging you down.” I look at him then, letting him see the pain in my eyes. “You’ve always been there to pick me up when I…can’t.” Shrugging helplessly, I drop my gaze. “And, erm, I’m sorry… I’m sorry I’ve never been strong enough to be there for you when you need it.”

Sinclair sighs, leans back in his seat, and stares at me for a beat before a deep breath inflates his diaphragm. “I almost wish you didn’t remember that night now.” His voice carries a hint of humor. “Look,” he says, tapping the armrest, “you have nothing to apologize for. You’re not dragging me down. I’m not good with this”—he gestures between us—“sharing emotions malarkey. But you know I’ve always got your back, just like you have mine, and if we have to take on a damn secret society and raise a little hell, then let’s do it.” Sitting forward, he holds out his fist, and I bump my knuckles to his.

“So you remember everything, huh?”

“Unfortunately, yeah…”

“Cecilia’s father?”

“He’s dead.” I cringe, looking away. “I can only imagine what Cecilia thinks of me.” A weak, bitter laugh rumbles in my chest. “I bet she can’t wait to run as far away from me as possible.”

“Don’t make me punch you again.” Sinclair flexes his fingers and then forms a fist. “Because I will if you spew shit like that one more time. Your wife is crazy about you. Today marks her first time leaving your side since you entered this hospital.”

Despite the shame heating my cheeks, his words fill me with hope. “You said you have her shadowed?”

“Of course. She won’t be able to run far even if she tries.”

A smile curves my lips. “I almost kind of hope she tries.”

Sinclair scoffs. “You always liked a good hunt.”

“Where’s the fun if the prey doesn’t put up a fight?”

He hums thoughtfully, then stands and pats my shoulder. “I need to arrange a safe place for you and Cecilia. Can I trust you to stay in bed and not run after her before you get the all-clear from the doctor?”

“Are you serious? If she runs away, I’ll chase her whether I’m dying or not. Trust me, I’m a way faster runner than the reaper when I want something.”

He crosses his arms and widens his stance. “I will cuff you to the fucking bed if you so much as move a damn muscle before the doctor says you can.”

“Why don’t you go ahead and punch me now.” I point to my jaw. “Right here. Go on.”

Unfolding his arms, Sinclair rolls his eyes behind his glasses. “You’re like a damn child, you know that?” He strides across the room, tossing over his shoulder, “I have to make a few calls and put the fear of God into your wife so she doesn’t get any stupid ideas of running away before you’re healed up and ready to chase.”

“Fine, take away all of my fun,” I call out after him as he leaves the room, but then I smile, feeling lighter than I have in years. I’m on the Bishop’s shitlist, but if I’m honest, it was only a matter of time. This outcome was long overdue. In the end, it’s all worth it to have her.