The Honor Trilogy: Books One, Two, and Three of the Honor Trilogy (50 page)

The limousine pulls into the parking lot outside Storm’s apartment building.

“We’re not going to my house?”

With the back of his fingers, Storm gently strokes my cheek. “Yes, babe. We’re going to your house, but I need a way to get home. I’m not paying the limo driver to wait around until I leave your house.” Storm pecks my cheek then slides us out of the car, the limo driver holding the door for us.

Storm hands me the keys to his front door, and while I unlock it, he finishes talking with the driver. Two seconds later, he’s at the door with me. When he sets his hand on my lower back, and I feel his skin through the lace of my dress, I can’t help but want so much more.

“Let me just put some sweats on and we can leave,” he says, kicking off his shoes and throwing his jacket over the sofa before he heads into his bedroom.

“Okay.” My voice shakes.

Storm turns around. “You all right, princess?”

I nod.

“You sure?” he asks.

Again, I nod. “Yes.” I speak so softly, I’m not even sure the word came out of my mouth.

When he turns to go into his room, I step slowly forward to follow him, my heart racing, my stomach twisting. I clutch my hand to my chest. His back is bare and he’s pulling down his black pants. Gasping as I grasp the doorpost with my free hand, I catch his attention as his one foot comes out of his pant leg.

The one side of his mouth turns up. “What’s up, princess?” he asks slowly, now showing me his full grin.

Because I don’t know what to do next, I stand there in his bedroom doorway, immovable.

He pulls the other pant leg over his foot and tosses them to the floor, his eyes never leaving mine. In just his dark gray boxers, Storm walks toward me, reaching me in three smooth steps. “Did you need something, sweetness?” he asks, though I can tell by his pompous expression that he knows what I need.

Words are caught in my throat while my body quivers. When his hands knead my upper arms, I turn to putty beneath them. The room around us turns black and the only three things I am aware of are Storm’s hands on me, the thunderous beating of my heart, and my rapid breathing. In an effort to suppress my breathing, so as not to draw Storm’s attention to it, I close my eyes, willing myself to calm down.

“You smell like vanilla tonight.” Storm’s right hand advances toward my neck. “No coconut?”

I shake my head.

“If I didn’t tell you before, I like it.” His hand passes my neck as he cups the back of my head. With his left hand, he fingers the side of my face, finally resting his hand on my neck. The breathing I had tried to calm picks up again when Storm takes my ear between his thumb and forefinger.

When he’s done fondling my ear, his fingers move down my neck and across my right shoulder. His finger hitches beneath the neckline of my dress and he slides my sleeve and bra strap down my arm, exposing my shoulder for him to kiss.

Leaving a slow train of kisses from my shoulder to my neck, he finally finds my mouth and claims it with unreserved enthusiasm. His right hand moves down my back and, in one movement, he bends, scooping his left arm beneath my knees as he picks me up and brings me to his bed.

“We don’t have to do this, Honor,” he says seriously, his intense purple eyes intently searching mine.

Because I want him to know how much I
do
want this, I fix my eyes on his with the same intensity. “I
want
to do this,” I tell him, finally finding my voice. Because though I’m fearful of what to expect, I know without a doubt that I am ready to give myself to Storm.

A groan escapes his throat before he lowers his mouth back on mine. While he tenderly kisses my mouth, his hands travel my body in an effort to release me of my dress. His kisses move down my body as they follow my dress. Once he’s slid the dress off of me, he pulls back and kneels between my legs, his eyes appreciatively surveying my body. “God, you are beautiful.”

His trail of kisses back up my stomach are followed by a path of warm tingles that once again leave me breathless and wanting. When he reaches behind to unclasp my bra, I am so aroused that I dig my finger nails into his back and let out a moan that reaches up from my abdomen. As he slides his hands back down my stomach, he slips his fingers under the elastic waist of my panties and slides them off.

I naturally open my legs as he climbs back up to kiss my mouth. “Open your eyes, princess,” he says softly into my mouth. When our eyes meet, his mouth opens. “I want you to know that I will love you forever and always. There is nothing on this earth or beyond that will ever keep me away from you, sweetness. Please know that it is your breath I breathe.
You
are my oxygen.
You
are what keeps me alive.”

With a tender yet concentrated gaze, Storm slowly lowers his body on top of mine. And in one deliberate moment, I become his forever.

ETHAN’S HEART

Six Years Later

Ethan
:

“You wanted to see me, Mr. President?”

“Oh yes, Ethan.” The President of the United States stands from his chair, walks around his desk, and shakes my hand, covering it with both of his. “Yes. I did,” he says excitedly, disengaging his hands from mine. “Please,” he offers, pointing a hand to a deep burgundy leather armchair, “have a seat.”

With a confident air, I sit as I thank the President for offering me a seat. “So what can I do for you?” I ask him, my posture relaxed and composed.

“No. Today it’s about what
I
can do for
you.
” He sits in the chair beside me, instead of the one behind his desk.

I nod once to allow him to continue.

“I wanted to personally thank you, Ethan, for saving my life last week.” The President is genuinely grateful.

With my elbows on the arms of the chair, my hands crossed in front of me, and my ankle leaning on my knee, I respond as I always do – with a single nod, and the acknowledgement that it’s my job to save his life.

“It may be your job, but I need to be grateful that you are even able to do your job.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe you extracted that bullet from my chest with your bare hands. And then proceeded to heal the wound it left. I’m still in awe.”

“I would have healed you completely, but I was told not to,” I say seriously.

“No, no, I would never expect you to. We can’t let anyone figure out your
uniqueness
. We had to make it look like the bullet only grazed me. But, Ethan, in all seriousness, I died out there in front of the nation…and no one knew it.”

“Well, I was trained to work inconspicuously, Mr. President.”

“I’m aware of that, Ethan. Can I ask you something?” His fingertips rhythmically drum his own thigh.

“Of course,” I say, still immobile, my fingers still laced together.

“Are you always this serious and reserved? I can’t recall you ever breaking into anything that resembles a smile.”

“I take my job very seriously, Mr. President. But I thank you for your gratitude. Please be assured I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

“I don’t doubt that, Ethan. Now, I wanted to offer you something…anything. Of course, aside from a very generous bonus this year, is there anything personal I can offer you? Anything out of the ordinary?” He leans forward, looking intently into my eyes.

“I would like some time off to go to my brother’s wedding next month. I haven’t been home in six years.”

“Of course. It’s done. You want the whole month off?”

“A week is good, sir. The week leading up to the wedding would be perfect. Thank you.”

“You haven’t seen your brother in six years, and you only need one week off?”

“Yes, sir. We were never that close.”

“Is he your only brother?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, Ethan,” he says, standing from his chair.

As I rise with him, I hold out my hand. “Thank you, again, Mr. President. I appreciate the time off.”

“Any time. Thank
you
for making it possible for me to actually be standing here to offer it to you.” With a smile, he grabs my hand again with both of us.

Stoically, I nod again, and wish him well.

Grateful to be out of there.

I’ve certainly earned the reputation of stoicism, but I attribute that to my many years of practice in closing my heart. But the moment I requested off to go to Storm’s and Honor’s wedding, an errant slice of my heart opened against my will.

Like the year I met Honor, and my hardened heart weakened its resolve.

Unable any longer to protect myself from emotional attachment, specifically to Honor, I was left vulnerable and open.

And nothing on Earth had prepared me for the pain my heart would endure the moment I realized I’d lost her to Storm.

**

“So are you really up for going to New Jersey again?” Shelby asks me on the way up to my penthouse apartment.

“I think so,” I tell her, stepping out of the elevator and into my stark white living room.

She kicks off her shoes and heads toward the dining room to grab a bottle of wine for the two of us. “Because I’m not so sure that I’m ready to go back.”

Though I’ve been in a monogamous relationship with Shelby for the past two years, we haven’t spoken much of New Jersey since she transferred four years ago to Radians College to continue her nursing degree. “You don’t have to come with me,” I deadpan, reaching for the wine glasses from the wrought iron hanging rack.

As I open the six-hundred dollar bottle of red wine, Shelby hands me a glass one at a time. “I’m not sure I like the idea of you seeing Honor without me there.” She sits down on my black leather sectional
and curls her feet beneath her toned legs.

“Please. I don’t even think about her anymore.”

She stares at me with her eyebrows lifted and a smirk on her face. “Right.”

“I don’t.” Which is the truth. I have become a master at shutting out my emotions and closing down my heart, that I almost feel nothing – even for Shelby, regrettably. Loosening my tie and slipping off my shoes, I join her on the couch.

“Oh, and I’m supposed to believe that? Ethan Sutherland has finally stopped yearning for the perfect Honor Stevens? I don’t think so.”

“I’m with
you
, aren’t I?” I cup my hand behind her neck and kiss her wine-stained lips.

“Don’t patronize me, Ethan. She’s the reason I didn’t allow myself to date you for the first two years I was here. I didn’t want to be second choice. Still don’t.” She licks her lips and sips her wine again.

I am
even second choice to Honor – which is why I’m living this ridiculous life to begin with.

“Ok, that’s reassuring.” She puts her glass down on the glass coffee table. “You can’t even respond to that, can you?”

“Shelby. This really is a non-issue. Either come with me or don’t. I won’t be offended if you don’t. But please don’t make this about Honor.” Just saying Honor’s name causes those locked up emotions to beat their way through my heart. But I can’t allow it. The pain was too great. And I will not go there again. Instead, I lean in to kiss Shelby again, but she pushes at my shoulders.

“No. I want to be sure.” She pours herself another glass of wine, and I hold my glass up for more as well.

“Shelby.
You
are in my life now. Not Honor. I don’t want her in my life. If I wanted her in my life, I would not have signed on to be the government’s guinea pig, I would have run away with her somewhere. But I didn’t. I know this conversation has been long overdue, but now that we’ve taken care of the elephant in the room, can we finally just drop it?” I look at her to see her reaction. She’s thinking about what I’ve said. “I want to go to the wedding, because Storm asked. It will be nice seeing them again, now that I can be sure the government isn’t after any more empaths.” I lie to Shelby. Of course I wanted Honor in my life. But her life meant too much to me to hand her over to the CIA.

She rubs my leg and kisses my cheek. “I’m sorry, Ethan. You’re right. This has been long overdue, but I’ll take your word for it.” She shrugs with a smile. “I have no choice.”

Finishing my second glass and pouring myself another, I sit back and pull her stocking feet on top of my legs. “You have nothing to worry about.”

I grab a bulk of her dark brown hair and yank her gently towards me, kissing her full on the lips before bringing up something else I have been wanting to talk to her about. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.” Another huge swallow of my wine and I think,
this probably calls for whiskey.
“Anyway.” The words get stuck.

Moving closer into me, she touches her cheek to mine, her smile fading. “Ethan. Is this bad? I haven’t known you to be flustered
since
New Jersey. What is it?”

“Before they put me in the Secret Service, as the President’s
body guard,
” I say in air quotes, “they did some things to me.”

Shelby leans in closer, her eyes curious. “What things?”

I rub her thigh. “Things. DNA type things.
Other
things…that they made me do to myself,” I pause. I get up to pour myself that Glenfiddich I really need, down a glass, pour some more, and sit back down to a worried Shelby. “They wanted to
recreate
whatever it is I am. And I let them.” Another gulp of the whiskey and I’m starting to feel a little less tense. “I let them so they wouldn’t go looking for…Honor…or my brothers and Uncle Tom. I had no choice.”

Shelby squeezes my hand that rests upon her thigh. “It’s okay,
Eeth. You had to do what you had to do.”

“Yeah, well, what I had to do…what I helped them to create, well, they’re just about five years old now.” I finish my
scotch and slam it down on my glass coffee table.

“Oh my…you mean…they made…children?” Shelby looks horrified.

“Yup.” Those familiar feelings are knocking again. This time with a sledgehammer. That time six years ago was one of my most frightening. The only thing I thought about while being poked and prodded was Honor. She was my motivation, because she was why I was there. She
is
why I exist – only I need to exist without her.

“Ethan?” Shelby kisses my ear, shaking me out of my painful moment.

I can’t go there. I need to get back to my safe place. My black place. I close my eyes, toss all those thoughts into my mental closet, and lock the door. “There are children out there that have my DNA. Made from
my
sperm.”

When Shelby’s jaw drops to her chest, she’s silent.

“Oh my God, Ethan. You’re a father?” Shelby plops her feet on the floor and stands up. “And it took you this long to tell me?”

“Seriously, Shelby?
That’s
what you get from this? Not the fact that the government just reproduced empaths so they can use at their whim?” I stand to pour myself another huge glass of Glenfiddich. “And you know at some point they’re going to train those kids to kill, right? So that they become immortal? And whoever they drugged to steal the eggs from, what’d they do to her? Some innocent. So get as mad as you want that my sperm fathered some innocent children. Because that’s why I was telling you that.” I storm into my office, pissed that Shelby seemed to blame me for this. Like I had any choice in the matter.

No.

No choice.

Not for me.

Unless I wanted them to go after Honor.

Sometime later, Shelby’s standing at my office doorway.

“What is it?” I ask, giving her a blank stare.

She drops to the armchair next to the door. “I’m sorry, Ethan.” Her words are said through a bucket load of tears, her eyes red and puffy as if she’s been crying since I walked out of the room two hours ago.

“It’s fine.” I say, feeling absolutely nothing at this point.

She sits there, her black eyes as wide as quarters, and my heart is cold as ice. I know I’m an empath, and I should be feeling compassion naturally, but I don’t. My only focus these days is keeping my eye on the President. If he’s physically hurt, I’m there to heal him. I don’t feel people’s pain. I tune it out completely. Like I had before meeting Honor. Though it took me a while to close my heart, I’d successfully done it – filling any open cavity with the cement from my veins.

And then I went and opened a letter from Storm. I should have known better. Honor had been mailing me a letter every month since the day I left Jefferson. But I stuck them at the bottom of my underwear drawer, unread and unopened. Storm’s handwriting on the front of the envelope should never have fooled me. Sure, the letter was from him, but it was written on Honor’s behalf.
She’s afraid I’m dead, because it’s not like me to just ignore her letters.
Yes. It is like me. Especially since she is the reason I don’t
feel
anymore.

“You know what, Ethan?” Shelby asks, after I picked up with my work where I left off when she interrupted. “You’re an ass.”

Dropping my pen, and crossing my fingers beneath my chin, I look at her.

“Anyone would have reacted that way to the news you just laid on me. Your being a father was not the only thing I was concerned about. It just happened to be the first thing that came out. Plus after the whole conversation about Honor, I was in a mood.”

“
You
brought up that conversation.”

“Ethan. I saw your face when we were talking about her. You still love her.”

With the alcohol doing its job, I have no desire to talk myself out of this anymore. I only have the energy to stare at her.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” She moves herself to the edge of the chair. “You’ve never stopped loving her, have you?”