Wounded Birds (The Grayson Series Book 1) (26 page)

Chapter 23

Rehashing The Past

The room is enormous and circular, an elegant, sophisticated library overlooking the waterfront with rows of books neatly shelved. Most of them are books about architecture, photography, and horses. “Horses,” I whisper.

He sits down on a plush love seat and pulls me next to him. “I grew up on a ranch breeding horses.”

“Who runs it now?” I ask. He leans closer, and a slight trace of his cologne and his natural male scent drift toward me, sparking my core to life.

“My dad does. His dream was to have one or all of us take over the business. However, that’s not the way his vision turned out.” He strokes his fingers over my leg, giving me goose bumps and causing every muscle in my body to clench with joy.

“Oh,” is all I can say. I’m a bit dejected by this. I don’t know why. I’ve never met his father, but I feel some sort of compassion for him. The poor man worked hard to build a successful business to pass on to his sons, and all three followed their own dreams.

He notices the expression on my face. “Don’t look so disappointed, our nephew, Gabriel, his grandson is involved with the ranch and enjoys the work. My father is overjoyed.”

“Oh, I had no idea one of your brothers has a son,” I say.

“Ariana, he’s my sister, Lara’s son. He was only a year old when . . . ” He can’t get the words out. He swallows hard, and I watch with sorrow as he struggles to keep his tears at bay. My heart aches for this poor man who, not only lost his sister, but also lost his mother at such a young age.

I trace my fingers over his nose, lips and place my head over his chest, kissing it. “Michael, it’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it.”

His breath hitches. “I need to . . . I’ve never spoken of it since her burial. Actually nobody in the family has,” he whispers, his voice harsh and raspy.

“You don’t need to rehash the past,” I say, comforting him as I brush my hands over his chest. He takes a stuttering breath. I press myself closer, enveloping him in my arms with all my strength, and hear his heart beating faster.

He wraps his arms around me, tightening his hold, a way of saying thank you. “It’s difficult even after fifteen years. I was eighteen. Lara called, screaming for help. She told me Gabe was beating her and had been for the past two years of their marriage. No one ever knew. She hid her little secret so well from all of us. I remember seeing her bruised now and then, but she blamed it on her clumsiness. I should have pick up on the signs, but I was too naive and stupid.

“Stop blaming yourself. You couldn’t have known. This is what most abused women do. They protect the ones they love, including the abuser, sometimes out of fear.”

“If that’s what you call love, Ariana, it doesn’t make any sense to me, sweetheart,” he snaps.

“Michael, you have to understand. Women like me and Lara have a low self-esteem and often think we aren’t worthy of love, or we feel we deserve to be punished or sometimes too scared to leave in fear that the husband or boyfriend will come after them.”

“That’s nonsense,” he shouts out.

“Let me give you an example. What happens when you tap continuously over a section of your hand or arm?”

“You bruise,” he answers.

“Exactly, now imagine someone physically abusing and belittling you, demeaning you and saying you’re worthless, stupid, and will amount to nothing. Repeating the same thing day in and day out. It sucks.” I can tell he’s getting the point. “After a while you begin to bruise and believe the vicious words they spit at you. Your self-esteem lowers, you have no ambition, you feel valueless and hollow. The brutal words cut deep and never heal.”

He tugs me harder into his chest, and a teardrop falls on my head. “I’m so sorry that you and Lara had to endure such abuse.” His voice is strained, his body quivering, but he continues with his story.

“She told me she was hiding in the barn and . . . ” He goes silent and springs up from the sofa, the muscles of his back tense. He walks towards the wall of bookshelves. I watch his arm swing, and his clenched hand strikes into the space between the bookshelf and window, causing the books and the window to rattle, leaving a large, gaping hole. His knuckles redden and slightly scraped, but there is no blood.

He turns to face me. His eyes go liquid, swarming with regret, hatred, and pain. Oh, God, so much pain.

“I had called the police, my father, and brothers. I rushed out of the house with my stomach in knots. I wasn’t sure what I was going to walk into. By the time I arrived, the fuck had found her and beaten her with his fist to her head. I was too late.” His face tightens, reflecting his crazed anger. A rage begins to surface within me as I sense his pain and Lara’s. Hell, I’m angry at that monster that killed his sister.

“The police, my dad, and brothers arrived as I slammed him up against the barn wall and had begun beating the living shit out of him.” He squeezed his eyes shut, hands fisted at the sides of his trembling body from the tormenting ache and fury that still burns inside him like poison.

He exhales loudly and hisses out, “I came so close to killing him. It took three police officers and my two brothers to pull me off the prick. They wheeled him out to the ambulance in handcuffs. I should have killed the fuck. Judge Davis sentenced him to life; however, he didn’t last long. As soon as the inmates got word what he did, they beat him to death, just like he did to Lara.

“When I finally came to my senses, I saw my father holding Lara in his arms, crying. The last time I’d seen him cry was when our mom passed away.”

Oh God, this is too hard, even for me to listen to. I sprint off the sofa, rushing toward him, encircling myself around his waist. I caress his back and shoulders to soothe him, and kiss his chest numerous times. He holds me tighter and kisses my head as he trembles against my body. I can only imagine the tormenting pain and guilt this man has been living with for so many years and still is.

He pulls away and looks into my eyes with admiration, love, want, and need. He caresses my cheeks, and I feel his heat seep through my skin. He leans down, his lips touch mine, and I’m lost in the most amazing, mind-blowing kiss we have ever shared. It is different, in a warm, solacing way.

He releases me, and he looks deep into my eyes, connecting with my soul. I don’t know what comes over me, but a strange and powerful sensation rushes through me, as if the universe united our hearts into one.

The words “I love you” escape from both our lips in unison.

We both jerk back. We stare at each other in disbelief.

“You love me?” Michael asks, with a glow that illuminates his face.

I nod. “Yes. God, Michael, I can’t tell you when, but yes, I love you . . . .You love me?” I question, surprised this wonderful man loves me, all of me, scars and all.

“From the moment I laid eyes on you, Ariana, I knew you were the one for me. You’re the hub of my universe.” He sweeps me into his arms, and we’re on the love seat, snuggled together like two doves nestled in their nest.

“God, being with you fills the empty hole I’ve had for so many years. I love you so damn much it hurts, Ariana.” His grip tightens, and I see the fear in his eyes and sense his anxiety. I know he’s worried about this asshole that’s after me.

“Michael, when we first met . . . I sensed a powerful connection between us, but . . . it frightened me.”

He lifts my chin to face him. “Ariana, I’m nothing like the fuck you married. I will protect you with my life, cherish you always like a delicate flower I see before me, yet strong and courageous beneath the petals.”

“I have no idea what to say.” Finally, God found my soul mate. This was worth the wait. Standing here before me, wrapped in a beautiful gift box is a successful, intelligent man with a tender heart and a true humanitarian.

“You don’t need to say anything. It’s all there in your eyes, your heart, your kisses, and the way you hold me.” He taps my nose, and I giggle.

My mind drifts back to Danny. “Danny enjoyed beating me, not every day, only when things didn’t go as well as he expected at his company. He was a sadist, and a control freak, especially with money. He watched every dime I spent. Which meant, I couldn’t stash any of it away.” I say through gritted teeth.

He kisses my lips. “Don’t. There is no need to bring up past. I want to start our relationship with special memories, overflowing with love, affection, and laughter.” He strokes his fingers through my hair.

A huge grin appears over my face. “You’re a wonderful man, Mr. Grayson. I am so blessed.”

“One question, Ariana, and you’re not obligated to answer.”

“Okay, ask away.” My stomach starts to turn into a ball of knots.

“How were you able to escape him?” He asks, running his hands over my hair.

“One morning I woke up disgusted. I’d had enough and scheduled an appointment with a lawyer. I filed for divorce, along with an order of protection, and withdrew eight hundred dollars from a private account I had before we married. This was before my grandfather passed away and left his inheritance to me.

“When I confronted him with the divorce papers, he was furious. I flinched the moment his rage began to gleam in his eyes. I was ready to crumble and give up, but then something snapped inside me, giving me the courage to move forward.

“I told him if he ever touched me again I’d have him arrested, and show the police the scars on my back. Afterward, I slammed the order of protection on the table, which Officer O’Hara at the station was more than happy to give me. His brother was the District Court Judge and had him sign it for me, no questions asked. Officer O’Hara had his suspensions. When Danny saw the official seal, he turned white.

“He yanked the papers from my hand and signed them. I packed my bags and left. I had already rented a small apartment fifty miles away after leaving the lawyers.”

I press myself against him, feeling his rigid muscles twitching beneath my fingers. After several moments, which felt like an eternity, he let out a long breath.

“Damn, Ariana, I’m surprised he didn’t come after you,” Michael chokes out.

“I wasn’t worried. I was well aware he wouldn’t try anything to stop me once he got a glimpse of the order of protection. Danny hated confrontations. Maybe this is why he took out all his anger out on me and not at anyone else. I was young and naive and couldn’t stand up for myself, and he took advantage of my innocence.”

“I’m so sorry for all the pain you endured and the scars which followed,” he says with a sorrowful look on his face.

I nod. “They may turn you off. You might want to run for the hills,” I tease because, in my heart, I know Michael will never leave me.

Michael takes a hold of my shoulders. He gazes into my eyes with undying affection. “Ariana, I’ve seen your scars, and I don’t give a damn. I love you, all of you.”

I stare at his youthful face, his eyes covered in speckles of green and gold stardust, glimmering at me with love. I stammer to say something, but nothing comes out. No man has ever affected me the way Michael does. I’m so grateful to God and the universe for linking our souls.

Michael holds up a remote and presses a button. The sweet melody of “The Way You Look Tonight” by Steve Tyrell pulses from his surround sound. We embrace one another and just sit there gazing out into the tranquil waters of the Long Island Shore.

***

I wake to Michael’s tender heart beating softly against my ear. I stare at the soft, golden glow over the horizon as the sun begins to set, reflecting off the placid water. I smile as his masculine scent lingers under my nose making me feel at home.

We must have dozed off. I lift my head up to find his eyes closed, his breathing slow, steady with the rise and fall of his chest. He’s drop-dead sexy and he’s all mine.

His eyes open, radiating with warmth and love. A big grin from ear-to-ear appears over his beautiful face. “Hi,” he rasps out, wrapping his hand around my head and pulling it toward his lips to kiss me.

He glances out the large bay window. “I guess we fell asleep. The sun’s setting.”

“We should head back. I need to pack,” I say heavy-heartedly.

He stiffens and pulls my legs off his lap and faces me. “Ariana, do you have to travel for such a long period of time? I’m quite distressed about this psychotic fuck.”

“Michael, please don’t make this harder than it already is for me.”

“I don’t mean to. I’m just overwrought with worry.” He frowns and glances at his watch. “Let me clean up the kitchen so we can head back into the city.” He changes the subject and stands up, holding his hand out to pull me up. He kisses me, holding me close against his solid, mass of muscles, and I liquefy like ice cream under a hot summer sun.

Suddenly, my stomach decides to turn sour, making me feel ill and nauseous. I tense in Michael’s arms, growing cold and frigid when images of my cold, grey, lifeless body is found somewhere in an old abandon cabin, set deep in the woods, decomposing, bounded in ropes and chains.

“Hey, Ariana, what’s wrong, sweetheart?” He pulls me away and lifts my chin up. “Are you okay?” He asks, looking ill at ease.