Key to Hell (Hell Night Series Book 4), page 20
But that’s exactly what I felt when we were kissing. Desire. It scared me, but even more so, it thrilled me. It made me feel more alive than I ever remember feeling. What made it even better was that it was with Aziah. His mind may still be filled with doubt, regret, and shame over our dirty childhood, and I’m sure he’s probably beating himself up right now over our kiss, but if I could have picked anyone to bring that emotion out in me, it would be him. He’s the one I’ve always felt the closest with. He’s the one I’ve bonded the most with. He makes me feel warm and safe and protected.
A part of me wishes he hadn’t run from the shower so quickly. I’ll admit, it hurt. What if he was repulsed by the kiss? I don’t want to think about him hating it while I enjoyed it so much.
I close my eyes and bring the vision of his body back to my mind. I’ve seen a lot of naked men in my life, mostly when I was a kid. They always turned my stomach and made me want to throw up. To me, a naked male body represents pain and fear and revulsion. But seeing Aziah, all the hard muscles in his chest and arms, the ink covering most of his beautiful skin, the way everything ripples when he moves, was breathtaking. His inner beauty matches his outer beauty.
If only he could see the same thing I saw.
My mind moves to the thing I’m most interested in. You would think a penis would freak me out, especially an aroused one, but oddly, Aziah’s didn’t. I’m no fool to think I’m suddenly over what happened to me and could do anything sexual, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious. I tried my best to keep my eyes off his erection, but they kept drifting back to it. Strangely, I found I wanted to reach out and touch it. It was hard, but I wanted to see if it was as silky as it looked too. There was no way I was going to, though. I know I’m not ready for something like that.
I turn the dial on the shower and step out, grabbing a towel from the rack on the wall. After I dry off, I slip on the sweatpants and shirt Aziah left behind. They’re huge on me, and I have to roll the waistband of the sweats several times so they stay on my hips.
I’m nervous as I leave the bathroom, unsure how he’s going to act after our kiss. I find him sitting on the couch in the living room. He’s on the edge of the cushion, bent over with his legs spread, elbows on his knees, and head in his hands. I wonder what’s going through his mind.
I don’t know what to do or say, so I just stand there awkwardly, playing with the hem of my shirt. He doesn’t look at me.
I glance around the room, and an ache forms in my chest. There’s absolutely nothing that makes this house a home. It’s sterile, cold, and barren. He deserves so much more than this, probably more than anyone else.
Unable to stand the silence any longer, I step farther into the room.
“Did you take care of your wounds?” I can’t tell because of the long sleeves he’s wearing.
He lifts his head, but he only stares across the room. “Yes.”
I walk until I’m standing next to him.
My throat tightens as I say the next words. “I’m sorry for what happened in the shower.”
His head snaps up and he finally looks at me. He’s scowling, but at least I can see his eyes.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he grunts.
“I made you uncomfortable. That’s the last thing I wanted to do.”
He scrubs his hands across his face before getting up from the couch and turning to me.
“It wasn’t what you did, it was how it made me feel. I didn’t like it.”
“Oh.” I drop my head and stare at my feet, not wanting him to see the hurt in my eyes.
“Shit.” I wince. “That’s not what I meant, Rella.” I peek up at him through my lashes. “I enjoyed the kiss, way more than I should have. The problem is, I shouldn’t have enjoyed it.”
I tilt my head to the side and purse my lips, regarding him. “I’m glad you liked it,” I state quietly.
His brows pucker, a frown pulling down his lips. “Don’t be stupid, Rella.”
Annoyance straightens my spine, and I glare at him. “Why does that make me stupid? Do you know how it would make me feel if I liked it and you didn’t?”
“I have no right—”
I cut him off, throwing my hands on my hips like some angry teenager, and step closer to him. “Stop,” I say sternly. “You have every right, Aziah. It doesn’t make you anything but human.”
“It makes me a sick pervert.”
“Now who’s being stupid?” I ask angrily. “Why in the world would it make you a pervert?”
He grits his teeth and grinds out, “Because I touched you when you were a child. I should be repulsed by the idea of touching you again.”
I close the remaining distance between us. “You were a child too. It’s not like you were one of the adults wanting to do those things. You were forced every bit as much as I was.” Lifting his hand, I place it, palm open, against my cheek. “We’re both adults now. Our past will always be a part of us, but it doesn’t have to affect the future. I don’t want it to anymore. I’ve lived my life in the shadows, always scared and feeling alone. I want to finally live and truly be happy.”
Some of the darkness fades from his eyes. “You can, and you should. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s you.”
“I want the same thing for you.”
“I don’t know if it’s possible for me.”
“It is if you let it. Don’t let him win by ruining your future.”
His fingers curl against my cheek, curving around the side of my face, and his thumb strokes gently against my skin. It’s so unlike him to show any type of affection. I bask in the glory of it and wish he would show this gentle side more often.
“What happened in the shower can’t happen again.” He pulls his hand away from my face, but locks our fingers together, like he wants to stay connected to me just as badly as I want to stay connected to him.
“What if I want it to happen again?”
“It can’t. Not counting our past, you’re Trouble’s sister.”
“So?” I shrug. “He won’t have a problem with it.” I sit down on the couch and tug him down beside me. “I’m not saying I expect more. I’m not even sure I’m capable of more. But for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel fear being close to someone like that. That kiss….” I close my eyes and sigh. Flipping them back open, I look deeply into his eyes. “That kiss felt right. It felt perfect. It felt like the beginning of something beautiful.”
Something painful passes in his eyes before he blinks and the look is gone. “You only felt that way because you believe I’m your only safe choice right now. There’s someone else out there that will make you feel that way too one day.”
It may be irrational of me or maybe even stupid, but I know he’s wrong. He’s the one. Something tells me Aziah is the only one who will ever make me feel the way that kiss did.
I keep those thoughts to myself, knowing he’s not ready to hear them yet. I’m still having trouble thinking them.
I shake my head slowly and offer a small smile. “It doesn’t matter right now. I’m tired. Will you lay with me on the couch?”
Indecision wars on his face, but after a moment, he inclines his head, sending a happy thrill through me.
Once he’s situated with his back smushed against the back of the couch, I lie down facing him. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, and I lay my head down on his chest. The couch is small, so we’ve got no choice but to press our bodies together. It’s amazing to think how I went from abhorring any form of touch to being completely comfortable in his arms, even craving his embrace. It’s just another reason that makes me believe this is the way it’s supposed to be.
“I’m sorry I left,” he rumbles, his voice deep and even.
His abs flex when I lay my hand just below his sternum. “You worried me,” I reveal, unable to keep the hurt from my voice. “I didn’t know what you were thinking.”
“I just needed some time. The thought of you being pregnant, so goddamn young, and knowing they hurt you when….” He pulls in a deep breath and lets it out. “I couldn’t fuckin’ take it. I needed to be alone before I lost my shit.”
I wrap my arm tighter around him. “Please don’t hurt yourself anymore.”
“I don’t know if I can promise that.”
I tip my head back and look at him. “Then do what you asked me to do. Let me know. I don’t want you to be alone when you feel that need. Maybe I can help.”
His jaw is tight, but he nods anyway. I lie back down on his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart. I love the sound.
“Will you come back to Trouble’s with me?”
“I think it’s best I stay here.”
Lifting my leg, I lay it over the top of his, trying to get more comfortable. “Fine. I’ll just stay here with you then.”
He sighs, his breath ruffling my hair. “Rella, you need to go back to your brother’s house.”
“It doesn’t feel right being there without you. I love Trouble, and Remi is great. And I just adore Elijah. But it’s not the same without you there. I missed you.”
He doesn’t say anything for several moments, then he murmurs, “We’ll see.”
His answer isn’t a no, so I’ll take that as a partial win. Whether he stays here or decides to go back to Trouble’s, I’ll be where he is. There’s no way I’m leaving him alone to stew in his dark thoughts.
We turn quiet after that. I lie there and continue to listen to his heart beat and think about the possibility of a future I never dreamed I could have. Sadness tries to creep its way in at the thought of a baby never being part of that future. I push the sorrowful thoughts away and focus on the good.
Could Aziah and I have a normal romantic relationship? It’s still bizarre to even consider. Can both of us overcome our demons to form an intimate bond? The better question is, will he even want something like that with me? I know he enjoyed the kiss. Not just because he told me so. I could see it in his eyes and the way his body shook after I pulled away.
Never have I imagined my life would take this turn. That I would start to feel something like this for Aziah, but now that I do, I feel a of sense of rightness. Like everything that happened to us was meant to lead us here.
I just need Aziah to believe it too.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
EMO
RELLA AND I MUST HAVE fallen asleep on the couch and slept through the night. I open my eyes and almost flip my shit when I see a pair of familiar green ones staring down at me. They move to Rella lying on my chest, then back to me, amusement causing a few laugh lines at the corners.
“Jesus Christ, Trouble, you scared the shit out of me. You’re lucky Rella’s lying on me, or you’d have a face full of fist right about now.”
He steps back, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t think anything scared you.”
“That’s fuckin’ stupid. Everyone is scared of something. I just don’t let it show.”
Rella stirs, and I glance down just as her eyes slide open and land on me. She looks so damn beautiful when she smiles sleepily.
“Hey,” she says drowsily.
“Hey.” I flick my eyes to Trouble to find him watching us. “We have company.”
Lifting her head, she peeks over her shoulder, then tries to sit up. I hold her hips before she can tumble off the couch.
“Careful,” I murmur and help her stand.
She hikes up the sweats she’s wearing when they slide down her hips.
“How are you doing?” Trouble asks, scanning his eyes all over her face.
“I’m fine.” She brushes her hair out of her eyes.
I sit up and scrub my hand over my face several times, trying and failing to get my bearings.
“We need to talk,” Trouble says, grabbing my attention.
“So, talk.”
His gaze moves to his sister before landing back on me. “Privately.”
“There’s nothing she can’t hear. She knows everything.”
I can tell he doesn’t like that answer by the way his face hardens. We would have eventually told Rella anyway, but I took the “when” away from him. Too fucking bad. She’s part of the reason why we do things the way we do them here in Malus. There was no sense in waiting.
After a long moment, he nods. Pulling his hands from his pockets, he crosses his arms over his chest.
“We know where Charles Lancaster is.”
My blood instantly heats. Charles is one of the adults who escaped Sweet Haven. His wife was one of the ones I killed that night. He was already gone with their eight-year-old daughter, Melody, when I made it to their house, or he would have suffered the same fate. Their daughter was never located, and we often wondered what happened to her. I have no doubt her abuse continued after they left. People like Charles don’t change just because they aren’t able to easily get away with it anymore.
“Where?” I growl, clenching my fists on my thighs. The key calls to me, but I ignore it.
“Small town in Nebraska.”
“Are you talking about Charles from Sweet Haven?” Rella interjects.
Trouble looks at her. “Yes. We’ve been hunting him for years. He’s a slippery fucker.”
“You got an address?”
He brings his eyes back to me. “Yes. JW’s supposed to be sending the address any minute now. You in?”
“Yes.”
“Wait.” Rella turns in her seat toward me. “You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Rella, these bastards need to be put down. God only knows how many people he’s hurt over the years and how many more he’ll hurt in the future.”
She nods, looking at Trouble. “I agree.” Her eyes narrow. “He had a daughter, didn’t he? Melody was her name.”
“Yes,” I answer, unable to hide the acrimony from my tone.
“Do you know what happened to her?”
“No. She fell off the grid once he took her from Sweet Haven.”
She frowns. “Are you going to look for her?”
“We’ve been trying to find her already,” Trouble answers. “But yes, we plan to interrogate him to find out what happened to her.”
She nods solemnly. “Good.” She clasps her hands in her lap, looking from Trouble to me. “Do me a favor.” I tip my chin up. “Make him suffer.”
A COUPLE OF DAYS LATER, Trouble and I approach the back door to the run-down house. I pull out my kit and start working on unlocking the door. It comes as no surprise that there’s no alarm on this piece-of-shit house. Hell, the structure is barely standing, just like all the other shitty houses on this street.
Apparently, Charles Lancaster has had shit luck since he left Sweet Haven all those years ago.
The door pops open, and Trouble quietly walks in first. All of the lights are off except the kitchen light. When we first arrived, we looked in as many windows as we could and found no sign of Charles. We know he’s here—his car’s in the driveway—so he must be upstairs.
Our steps are silent as we make our way across the kitchen and living room. We both stop at the bottom of the stairs. There’s no fucking way they won’t creak as we walk up them, which will probably alert Charles to our presence.
Having no other choice, I take the stairs two at a time, ready to get this shit started and over with. Reaching the top with Trouble beside me, I stop and listen. I glance at Trouble when we don’t hear a sound. There’s no way Charles didn’t hear us coming up the stairs. He should be barreling out of a room to find out what the noise was. Or maybe he’s a pussy and he’s hiding.
There’s only one way to go, so I lift my chin to the first closed door. Trouble takes point, grabs the handle, and pushes it open. It’s a small spare bedroom; the only thing inside is a bare mattress and box spring and a small dresser in a corner. No closet.
We move to the next door. My body tenses as I grab the doorknob and twist. Stepping inside, I come to a halt, my eyes fixed on the bed and the dead body lying on top of it. Charles is face up, eyes wide open, with a bullet hole between his eyes.
“Shit,” Trouble mutters, walking over to the bed. He presses two gloved fingers to his neck, then shakes his head. “No pulse, but he’s still warm, so he hasn’t been dead long.”
“Fuck.” I rake my fingers through my hair and turn in place, looking around the room for any clues on what happened and finding none.
“There’s residue around the wound, which indicates close range,” Trouble states. “His eyes are open, indicating he was awake when the shot was fired, but there’s no sign of a struggle. Son of a bitch,” he mumbles and takes a step back from the bed, wrinkling his nose. “He shit himself, so either he had a weak bowel, or he was so scared he lost his shit. Literally.”
All of a sudden, there’s a noise coming from behind a closed door in the room. Trouble and I both stalk over to the door. I wrench it open and find a woman huddled against the wall with a gun with a suppressor pointed in our direction. Her facial expression is hard, and she’s shooting daggers from her eyes at Trouble and me. She’s trying her best to appear brave, but I see the gun trembling in her palm.
I step between her and Trouble, the gun pointed at my chest.
“Who in the fuck are you?” I demand. It’s probably stupid to address someone with a gun in such a harsh way, but I’ve never let fear stop me before, and this small woman won’t make me start now.
“Who are you?”
“You first.”
Her hand wavers fractionally, but her voice is strong. “Melody.”
Fucking hell!
I hold back my shock at her answer. I feel Trouble move up beside me, no doubt just as surprised as I am.
“Melody Lancaster?” Trouble inquires.
Her eyes narrow. “I don’t go by that last name anymore. It’s Corrigan.”
“You do that?” I ask, tossing my head to the side, indicating the body on the bed.
“Yes. He deserved it.”
I jerk my chin up. “He didn’t; he deserved a hell of a lot worse.”
