No Regrets: Jani Kay (Firebird Trilogy Book 2) (2 page)

Weighing up my limited options, I decided dancing wasn’t such a bad idea. If I was lucky, Kurt’s shift would be over soon and I could convince one of the other barmen to give me a drink or two. By shaking my arse on the dance floor, I’d burn off some of the alcohol then get another drink to top it up again. Inwardly, I high-fived my drunken self at my genius plan.

Huffing at Kurt, I slid my arse off the barstool and hooked onto the good-looking German’s arm for stability. His lips curled into a victory smile as he patted my hand. I followed him to the dance floor, nearly tripping over my own feet as we made our way into the crowd.
Crap, these damn heels are going to kill me.

We danced for a few minutes before the DJ changed to a slow tempo tune. I closed my eyes and swayed unsteadily to the music, resting one hand against his chest to keep my balance, completely lost in the song. Music always did that to me—especially ones about love and loss. It stirred emotions that, mixed with alcohol, were lethal to somebody who’d just been dumped by a lover. It sucked me deeper into its vortex until it was only the song, my broken heart, and me.
It's killing me.

Snapped back to reality by Clone’s calloused hands grabbing hold of my upper arms, he jerked my body toward his. Shocked, my eyes flew open. I didn’t like being pressed into this stranger’s hard chest, his muscled arms caging me in. I pushed against his chest, but he didn’t loosen his hold. One hand slid down my back and cupped my arse, squeezing hard as he chuckled into my ear. Everything blurred.

Why is it so damn hard to focus?

The room spun around me. Shit.

Without warning, his mouth came crashing down on mine. I pulled my head away. “
No.
Let me go.” I struggled against him, cursing under my breath that I’d ignored my first instinct to send him away. Strong arms pulled me closer and he pushed his erection into my stomach. I wanted to kick him in the balls, scratch his eyes out, and run away. But I did none of those because I barely had control of my limbs to do so. Pasted to his body, my head buzzed from all the alcohol I’d consumed on an empty stomach.

His head dipped, searching for my lips again, but this time I turned my face away.

“Playing hard to get?” His mouth curled into a menacing smirk. “I like that. Keep fighting. It turns me on.”

“Let me go!” I sounded braver than I really was; tears prickled at the back of my eyes. His iron grip only tightened as his fingers dug into my arse and pressed me into his hard dick.

Kurt’s deep voice came from behind me. “Let her go.”

“Get fucked. Who are you to decide? She likes it. Don’t you, my lovely?” Clone’s breath was hot on my neck.

No.

Panic swept through my fuzzy brain. I didn’t want Kurt to think I wanted this man. Before I could respond, Kurt grabbed him by the collar and pulled him off me. I sucked in a breath, my head spinning. Heat crawled up to my face.
Damn, I need fresh air.

“Let me go,” Clone snarled and lunged toward Kurt.
Big mistake
. As swift as a trained boxer, Kurt punched him in the stomach. The guy doubled over, groaning and cursing.

What the hell? Holding onto my belly, as if Kurt had punched me, nausea rose from the pit of my stomach.
I'm going to be sick.
I stumbled through the crowd to the ladies’ room. Leaning over the basin, I splashed my face with cold water. I should’ve listened to Kurt. I’d never been able to hold liquor well, and without eating earlier, the tequilas hit me harder than usual.

I looked up into the mirror and blinked. Kurt stood behind me, his eyes blazing.

“Err...this is the ladies' room.” My eyes screwed shut as my knees gave way and I grabbed onto the counter for purchase. Catching me before I slid to the floor, Kurt’s arm curled around my waist. With a grunt, he lifted me and threw me over his shoulder.

“Oh, God.” If only the ground could open up and swallow me.

I feebly kicked my wobbly legs, but strong arms wrapped so tightly around my thighs I could hardly move. A hard slap echoed around the tiled room. It took several seconds before my slowed brain registered the burn on my arse.

Carrying me head down, arse up through the crowd, feet moved sideways as people made way to let us through. I squeezed my eyes shut and gripped fistfuls of his shirt, holding on as we did the walk of shame to cheers from the overfriendly crowd.

The queasiness returned, and my stomach twisted as bile pushed to my throat, making my mouth water. I knew the signs even in my intoxicated state.

“Kurt, dammit, put me down. I’m going to be sick.” I groaned, hammering feebly against his back to no avail.

The cool night air slapped my face. Greedily, I sucked fresh air into my lungs.

Tarmac. Sounds of traffic and horns. Bouncing on his shoulder as he sped up the pace.

“Where the hell are you taking me?”
Oh God.

“My shift is over. There is no way I am leaving you there. The idiots in tonight are as bad as a pack of hungry wolves. They’d devour you if I left you to it.”

With long determined strides, he crossed the road with me still hanging on. The scent of soap and beer that clung to his shirt floated to my nostrils.
I’m going to be sick.

At least no one could see us, and since my own legs were most likely incapable of supporting me, I kept my eyes screwed shut and endured the humiliation as he carried me up a flight of stairs. The combination of motion sickness and too much alcohol prevented me from speaking even though my heart pounded and my head raced.

Where the hell is he taking me?

Hardly out of breath, in spite of my added weight, Kurt had come to an abrupt stop. I opened my eyes and lifted my head to take in my surroundings. We stood in front of a door of what appeared to be a block of apartments. He dug into his pocket and produced a key with which he unlocked the door.

Wooden floors appeared in the dim light as he walked in and closed the door behind us. From wood to carpet, he slid me down his body and set me down on a soft leather couch.

Standing over me his eyes narrowed as he scrutinized me. I was past feeling embarrassed or awkward as I stared back at him, thankful to be lying back and not bouncing over his shoulder. I rubbed over my stomach, wishing the churning inside to stop.

He laughed softly, amusement flickering in his eyes. It changed his whole face from earnest to handsome. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Strong coffee?”

“Okay. Stay here.”

I had no intention of moving, so I stared at his broad shoulders as he sauntered to the kitchen. Without moving my head too much, I glanced around from the black leather couch I’d been deposited on. Glass and metal dominated the space, with an imposing fireplace made entirely of steel glimmering in the light.

In the area I presumed was meant to be the dining room, stood gym equipment.
So that’s why he’s so strong and muscular
. I couldn't remember when last I’d been to a gym, or had a decent workout—other than during sex. And that was weeks ago.

A few minutes later, Kurt returned with two mugs. Smiling down at me, he placed it on the coffee table in front of me.

“Drink,” he ordered, grabbing hold of the remote to turn on the sound system. Seconds later, soft music flowed into the space. The same music Alain had played at the chateau.

“Too loud?” he asked.

The sound reverberated through me, causing my head to throb. “No, its fine,” I lied, closing my eyes.

Alain.

I didn’t want to think of him. The dull ache that had become a permanent part of my body since I’d left Paris was still there. Drinking clearly wasn’t the way to erase him from my memory. I sighed as I rubbed at my chest.
Damn, it hurts no matter what I do.

I
'd made a decision. I couldn’t live like this any longer.

I grabbed my jacket and car keys and made my way to the garage. A few minutes later, I sped down the highway, the wind in my face, blowing the cobwebs from my brain.

Idiot!
I was a fool to let Rebecca go. How did I think I could make my life work without her?

Putting my foot flat on the accelerator, the yellow Porsche roared around tight bends as I got closer and closer to Valerie’s estate. I'd been there many times over the years, sometimes for an event and other times just to speak with her. There was even a time when the Porsche couldn’t get there fast enough.

I never loved her
.

Yes, I’d
fucked
her—many times, but I’d never
made love
to her. There was a difference.

Valerie was royalty, born into the right family. She was beautiful and wealthy, sophisticated and smart. She was everything a man could want.

But she wasn’t Rebecca.

It had taken me several sleepless nights to comprehend just how hard I'd fallen for the beauty from Australia. How waking in my future wife’s bed after a night of mindless fucking left me cold? How I saw Rebecca’s face when I came inside Valerie.

It wasn’t fair to any of us. Insanity was allowing it to continue.

I had to stop it.
Not another minute of this fucking farce
.

Mere weeks had passed yet I missed Rebecca as if a part of me was lost. My heart torn from my body. It was only since I didn’t have her with me that I realized how addicted I'd become to her presence. I’d thought I was so damn smart, that I’d worked it all out—I would marry Countess de la Ray out of loyalty to my family and heritage and keep Rebecca as my woman. How in God’s name did I expect that to work?

I should’ve known better. Rebecca was never a woman to be satisfied with seconds, even if I planned on keeping her in utmost luxury and showed her my love and attention.

By letting her go, I'd opened it up completely to that cocksucker, Maxwell Grant. Rage sat raw in my gut, burning a hole through my stomach at the thought.

I stepped on the pedal, skidding on gravel covering the narrow windy road. Lost in my thoughts, I was in a mad rush to put an end to this ridiculous engagement. The crazy laugh that bubbled from my lips was part anger, part relief that I’d come to my fucking senses.

Even from her grave, I felt my mother’s disappointment that I planned to marry a woman I didn’t love. I could imagine her softly spoken words, admonishing me for disregarding everything that mattered most. Love.

Love is what life is all about, Alain. Cherish it. Nurture it. Never take it for granted.
It was as if she were speaking to me.

Merde! Where the fuck did the truck come from?
It headed straight toward me, overtaking another heavily loaded vehicle. Staring at two pairs of headlights nearly on top of me, my heart beat furiously in my chest.
God, I'm going to die
.
I'm going to die before I get to fix my goddamn mistake. Before I get to tell Rebecca I need her back. That I can’t settle for this life without her.

Both trucks blew their horns as if they thought that would magically make me disappear. The slower truck hit its breaks, dust billowing in its wake. A gap, a small window of opportunity not to end up like a concertina under the truck’s body, was what I needed.

Please, God! I’m too young to die.

My life flashed before me: the good, the bad, and the ugly. In a moment, I saw it all and I knew with every fiber in my body what I wanted.
Really wanted
.

My prayer was answered—the truck that braked allowed for an opening between the two monstrous vehicles. Speed and accuracy were required to save my life. It was up to me.

I took my chance. A slim chance, but a chance none the less.

Gripping the steering wheel with both hands, I jerked it to the right, while flattening the accelerator once more. The Porsche roared, sliding at first, rubber burning on the road as I slipped between the two trucks, inches to spare on either side. Adrenaline spiked through my body, my knuckles white on the steering wheel, my breath coming in short bursts as I rushed out the other side.

Alive.

Fuck, that was close.

Shaking, I sent a prayer to the heavens giving thanks for sparing my life. I had so many things I still wanted to do, wanted to experience.

Slowing down as I approached the gates of the estate, I stopped the car and rested my head on the steering wheel to catch my breath. I didn’t want to die with regrets. I took a few deep breaths and felt a new calmness settle over me.

Pushing the button to open the gates, I waited just long enough to squeeze through the opening. A weight already lifted off my shoulders, urging me to get this task done so I could move on with my life in the direction I wanted it to go.

My father’s car stood in the driveway. I shrugged.
Just as well. Saves me the trouble of repeating myself to him later.
I was curious as to what business he had being there, and I assumed it had to do with contracts that needed to be drawn up between our two families before the consummation of our vows.

I let myself in through the side entrance I’d used to sneak in many a night when I’d needed a willing fuck and a warm body to hold on to. Valerie never refused me, knowing since our teenage years when our parents had informed us both she was my intended wife. She’d given me her virginity back then, yet I was never quite sure if I was the only man to warm her bed. She used sex as a tradeoff to get what she wanted—to be the future duchess du Bois.

Hearing voices from upstairs, I found it strange Valerie would receive my father in her personal quarters rather than the large reception area meant for guests. I took two stairs at a time, eager to confront them both and get this done. I followed the voices to Valerie’s study, the ornate room filled with rows upon rows of books. It was next to her bedroom, where she’d spend hours reading and writing poetry.

I slowed my pace as I got closer. They were laughing at a shared joke, but it sounded more intimate than I’d expected. Coming to a halt outside the door, I listened for a moment.

“You please me, my dear. Such a good little whore for me.” My father’s voice was thick with lust. An uneasy feeling coiled in the pit of my stomach. What in God’s name was happening in that room? My breathing became faster and shallower as I strained my ears to listen for clues.