Shades of Darkness (Redemption Series) (40 page)

“Then how does it work? Tell me, Olivia.”

He took a step toward her, and she took one back. For the first time since she could ever remember, she didn’t trust him. The intense glow of his amethyst-hued eyes rimmed the amber truth of his suffering.

“Think about it. I can’t marry you. I can’t give you children. Hell, I can’t even have sex with you!”

She didn’t know what to say to that, or what to say that would get him to change his mind. Her own desperation made the reckless words come flying out of her mouth. “If you do this to me, I’ll go back to Mitch. Is that what you want?”

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticked near his eye. “Do you love him?”

She shrugged. “What’s the difference? I won’t remember that I love you.”

“The difference,” he growled, “is that Mitch is a tosser. You can do better than that.”

“Oh please, like you’ll ever approve of anyone I date.”

“Try raising the bar—you might be surprised.”

“I did!” she snapped. “I chose you!” Olivia poked him in the chest. “And you can see how well that worked out for me. Look, Liam,” she pinched the bridge of her nose, praying for patience. “I’m never going to give you my memories—not again—and you can’t take them without violating my free will, so just drop it, all right?”

The warning look he gave her all but said “Wanna bet?” and she couldn’t stifle the shudder that racked her spine. She kicked her chin up a notch and said with much more bravado than she felt, “So you might as well stop wasting your breath.”

Olivia nodded at the necklace fisted in his hand. “Besides, I think you’ve taken enough from me, wouldn’t you say?” Without waiting for a response, she spun around and marched away, all the while inwardly chanting, “
I will not cry… I will not cry…”
The moment she reached the bathroom, she started to sob.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Well, that couldn’t have gone any worse. It took every last bit of Liam’s resolve to stand there and let her walk away. The carnal side of him so desperately wanted to run after her, take her in his arms, and make her his—forever and ever. But then, there lies the problem. They didn’t have forever—not here. Why couldn’t she see that he was doing this for her? Why did she have to act as if he were the heartless bastard here? Did she think, for one second, that this was easy for him? He couldn’t even let himself imagine what it was going to be like watching her go through everyday life, oblivious to him. Yet, that was the way it had to be, the way it was supposed to be.

He watched Olivia march toward the bathroom, her back iron-rod straight with indignation. She was trying so hard to keep it together. Faster and faster, her steps carried her away from him, until soon she was running for the brick building outside the gated entrance.

That hadn’t gone well at all. Granted, he didn’t expect her to jump at the idea of letting him veil her memories, but he’d thought, with some coaxing, she’d at least come around to discussing it—now, not so much.

Muttering a curse, he turned and strode away—get in, get out, and get on the road again. The longer he dragged this out, the harder it was going to be on both of them. He’d try talking to her about this one last time. Perhaps she’d be more amicable the second go-around. If not, then he’d have no other choice but to take matters into his own hands. He loved her too much to let her suffer through the loss of letting him go again.

He wasn’t gone more than ten minutes. It hadn’t taken him long to hide the stone in the world’s largest man-made grotto constructed from a collection of precious stones gathered from all around the world. Immanuel’s Stone would blend right in here. Even if Haden did discover it was hidden here, chances were good he’d still be searching for the damn thing when Jesus came back.

If they’d had more time, he would have liked to take her through the nine separate grottos, comprising the Redemption. It’d be nice to share this with her. They really were a stunning work of art, and the distraction would be nice. Since coming back here, their time together hadn’t exactly been easy, and now with his proposal of a mind scrub on the table, it wasn’t likely to get any better.

As he crossed the parking lot, he could see Olivia sitting in the car and felt the simmering burn of her anger, the sting of her offense. Glancing back at the Grotto, he sighed. Would he have enough time to take her inside? Would extending this olive branch balm her hurt feelings?

Aw hell… He opened the passenger door and held out his hand. Olivia looked up at him, her brow arched in surprise, but she made no move to take it. “What?” she snapped crisply.

He reached inside the car and took her wrist, gently dragging her reluctantly from the car. “Come here, Olivia.”

She sighed, sounding more tired than he’d ever heard her. “What do you want, Liam? I thought we were in a hurry, remember?”

“We are, but I want to share this with you, and I don’t see us getting another chance.” Her curiosity gave him temporary reprieve of her anger—a small beacon of encouragement, despite the frown that still pulled her brows together, or the subtle jutting of her bottom lip that made his mouth water with need to kiss her.

“First things first.” He pulled the necklace from his pocket and refastened the empty silver chain around her neck. Bending down, he softly kissed her cheek, not trusting himself enough to stop if he tasted her lips.

She reached up and brushed her fingertips across the base of her throat, feeling for the bare chain. Wordlessly, he took her hand, threading his fingers between hers, and led her toward the entrance. She followed along with her brakes on, taking reluctant, stuttering steps behind him.

“What are you doing, Liam? Where are we going?”

“Inside. I’d like to take you through here before we leave. It’s very beautiful, and I think you’d really like it.” As they approached the entrance, her resistance ceased. He glanced back to see her looking up at the mountainous archway leading into the Grotto. Her eyes locked on a recessed area near the top where the statue of an angel stood with arms and head arched high toward the heavens.

“Liam, this is beautiful,” she murmured, pulling him over to get a closer look at another statue near the entrance. The sculpture was of an angel with a sword in his hand, his arm raised high in the air, thrusting the blade toward the shimmering rock on the ground. She looked back at Liam, then at the statue, then back at him again. “Is that…you?”

“No, it’s not me.” He kept walking, tugging her along as she craned her neck back to get one last look.

“Are you sure? Because the resemblance is striking—”

“I’m sure. The monument is of Michael, the Archangel of War.”

“It’s stunning…”

“I assure you, the replication doesn’t do him justice,” he replied a bit tartly. It shouldn’t bother him that Olivia was fawning over his likeness, but it did. The spark of jealousy lit his veins, spreading like a slow, burning poison. He carefully kept his eyes averted, waiting for the tell-tale jade color to dissipate. His lack of emotional control shamed him. To cover his disconcerted state, he distracted her with conversation while he led her to
Paradise Lost.
“I fought under his command for many centuries.”

“Do you miss it?” Her questioning eyes probed him.

He looked at her, not quite sure how to answer that. “Sometimes. War is in my blood. I think a part of me will always crave it.” When she stiffened, he took her other hand in his and added, “But not as much as I crave you.”

“Please…” She dipped her head, a demur smile touching her lips despite her effort to hide it. “You don’t have to say that—”

Cupping her cheek, his thumb brushed over her flawless, porcelain skin. “You know I can’t lie.”

 She reached up and caught his wrist, holding his hand against the side of her face. “I know. That’s why I got so upset when you talked about taking my memories. If you didn’t intend to do it, you couldn’t even speak such things.”

His thumb brushed across her bottom lip, silencing her. “Please understand it was never my intention to upset you, Olivia. I don’t want there to be discord between us. I just want to share this with you. Let’s enjoy this time together, and we’ll talk later.”

She nodded, agreeing to the temporary truce. Despite his best efforts to ignore the tightening in his gut, deep down Liam knew trouble was on the horizon. Just like the haunting presence of the calm before a storm, so was this time with Olivia.

***

Ashley woke to the pounding of her heartbeat hammering away at her brain. She groaned, cursing herself for taking a page out of Mitch’s Stupidity Playbook, and Moj was definitely
not
her new best friend. Thinking back to how many of them she’d had—last count was four, maybe five. Holy hell, did her head hurt! How did she get home last night? Her memory was spotty at best, but unfortunately, her fight with Balen was coming back to her with painful clarity.

“Shit…” she moaned, now wishing for a little amnesia to numb her embarrassment. Had she really told Balen to leave? Had she really accused him of not caring for her? Guilt hit her like a sucker punch in the gut. She scrambled off the bed, and stumbled over to the window. Would he be out there sitting next to her door as he did every night? She could hardly blame him if he wasn’t. She certainly didn’t deserve his devotion—not after the way she behaved last night.

Ashley wrenched back the curtain and let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. He was there. Jerking open the door, she ran outside with an apology on her lips that caught in her throat.
Oh my…
Balen looked like hell. There was blood smeared across his neck, his arm, and his chest. His shirt was filthy and torn, and his jeans weren’t faring much better. He looked exhausted.

“My Lord, Balen! What happened to you?” She dropped to her knees between his parted thighs and ran her hands over his neck. When she didn’t find the wound, she moved to his arms—searching...

“Ashley, stop.” He caught hold of her hands and pushed them away.

“Balen, you’re hurt!”

“It isn’t my blood. It’s yours.”

“Mine?”

“Yes, yours.”

His scowl sent her heart racing with dread. “What happened? I don’t remember—”

“How would I know? I wasn’t there. You told me to leave, remember?”

Vaguely—

“The alcohol you consumed nearly severed our connection. By the time I felt your fear and found you, you were in a shoddy bathroom in Haden’s arms, clinging to him and bleeding. If you want any more details, you’ll have to ask him.”

Yeah, right, like she was going to talk to Haden. The briskness of Balen’s tone heaped hot coals of regret upon her head. He was pissed, not that she blamed him. He couldn’t look more detached and apathetic than he did at this very moment, holding her away at arm’s length. Ashley feared she’d made an unforgivable mistake with Haden last night. None of it made sense. What was she doing in Haden’s arms? She didn’t even like him.

“What aren’t you telling me, Balen?”

He stood up and dragged his hand through his already disheveled hair. “Look, Ashley, I’ve had a long night. I didn’t want to leave until I was sure you were awake and all right. Since you’re obviously fine, I’m going to go.”

She caught his wrist as he started to walk away. “Wait, Balen.” He hesitated long enough for her to rush, “I’m so sorry about last night! I didn’t mean—”

“So am I.” He cut off her apology and tugged free of her grasp. Turning away, he kept on walking. Ashley tensed to run after him, but before she could take a step, he suddenly disappeared.

“Balen! Dammit, come back here and talk to me! We’re not done here!”

A second later, Mitch’s door swung open and he poked his head outside. “Hey, Ash, you all right? I thought I heard— Damn, what in the hell happened to you? You look like shit!”

“I’m hung over. Of course I look like shit. What do you think?” she snapped.

“I think you look like an extra for the movie
Carrie.
Jeez, did Balen try to kill you in your sleep last night, or what?” His teasing comment didn’t match the concern on his face, and that gave her pause.

“What do you mean?”

“Have you looked in a mirror?”

Well, no she hadn’t. And then she remembered the blood on Balen. “It isn’t my blood. It’s yours,” echoed in her head. Mumbling some unintelligible response, she ran back to her room and directly over to the dresser-top mirror. Ashley gasped, her hands diving into her crunchy crimson curls.  Holy hell! What happened to her last night?

The entire crown of her head was coated in dried blood, a smudge streaked across her cheek. She poked around for a sore spot and couldn’t find anything. Tipping her chin to her chest, she tried to feel the cut that surely would be back there. Nothing…

“So are you gonna tell me what in the hell happened to you last night, or not?”

Ashley turned to see Mitch standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, a concerned scowl scrunching his face. “I would if I knew. Honestly, I don’t remember very much about last night. I need to shower. Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be ready to go.”

He nodded, looking a bit reluctant to leave her. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

“As far as I can tell. I guess it looks worse than it is.”

“All right. Let me know if you need anything. Otherwise, I’ll meet you at the car.” Mitch left and she closed the door behind him, latching the deadbolt for good measure.

She showered as quickly as she could, all the while feeling for the wound that wasn’t there. It didn’t make sense that she wouldn’t have a mark, especially with all that blood. Her lack of memory ate away at her. The fight with Balen left her heart aching with regret and her mood downright fowl.

With curt, brisk movements, she turned off the shower, hastily dried herself, and dressed in her favorite skinny jeans, black calf-hugging boots, and a cashmere heather gray sweater. She left her hair down and wild, not taking the time to tame her curls, something she’d no doubt regret later, but then, she was well acquainted with regret and figured it was just one more thing she could add to her list.