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“I may just take you up on that.” She rasps out the words as if she’s choked up with emotion.
As I’m about to respond to her, the lift pings and we both glance up as Luke steps off the lift. His eyes are wild, frighteningly so, but it’s the blood covering his hands and face that terrifies me the most. What happened to him? It’s matted in his hair and splattered up his neck. I can’t stop from getting off the sofa and going to him. He looks strung out, though whatever high he’s had is not a chemical one. As I get closer, he holds his hands up defensively. “Don’t touch me!”
I stop in my tracks, noting the desperation in his tone. Fear makes my chest ache as it heaves to draw in breath. Where has he been? And what has he done? “Luke?”
He’s never been like this before. He seems afraid of me.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
He takes a step back, putting more distance between us, and my heart squeezes as he does.
“You’re not going to.”
He shakes his head, as if he’s trying to clear the voices whispering darkness in his ears. “Leave me the fuck alone,” he hisses and turns towards the bedroom.
I watch him go before turning back to Aurelia.
She shifts her shoulders. “I would do as he says. Give him some time to cool down and he’ll be all right.”
She goes back to watching the TV as if her brother hasn’t just walked in covered in blood and spitting fire. I ignore her. Whatever Luke is going through, he is not doing it alone.
It may be suicidal, but I follow him into the bedroom. He must be in the bathroom, because I hear the shower switch on. Cautiously, I step inside, steam starting to fill the space as the water runs. He’s naked under the spray; my eyes can’t stop from being drawn to his body. Luke has a good physique; the urge to reach out and touch him is always there. I wait while he sluices the blood off his skin, watching as he scrubs his head and face to let the evidence of his crime go down the drain. I want to ask questions, find out what he’s done and whose blood is on him, but I don’t want to know either. Ignorance is, after all, bliss. My new husband is a dangerous man, and I knew that before I said my vows. But I’ve also seen love from him and that changes things dramatically.
My skin starts to feel sticky as the heat and steam from the shower fill the room. I’m glad when he finally switches the spray off and steps out of the shower. He doesn’t look at me as he reaches for a towel and wraps it around his waist.
Luke has his back to me, his hands resting on the basin and his eyes locked on the mirror. I don’t like what I see. There’s an edge to him that’s never been there before. I’m not scared, not of Luke, but I do feel a hint of nervousness roll through me. Because this is not the man who left the penthouse hours ago. The man standing in front of me is more beast than man. There’s a wildness that I’m not sure how to break through.
“Luke….” I say his name hesitantly, not sure what sort of reaction I’m going to get from him. His eyes lift in the mirror’s reflection and find mine. I want to take a step back, but I hold my ground. I won’t fear my own husband, even if he’s only been that for a short time.
“I told you to leave me alone. I’m not… I’m not in my right mind. I don’t want to hurt you.” His hands shake, not from fear but from rage. The anger is written in every tense line of his body.
“I’m not scared of you. I’ll never be scared of you, Luke. You’re a good man.”
I take step towards him and he spins. He grabs my shoulders, pushing me against the tile behind my back. I let out anoofas pain radiates up my spine.
“I just tortured a man for hours. I cut his skin. I burnt him while he screamed. I carved at him, making him beg for mercy that I never delivered. I enjoyed it. Relished it, even. It made my blood pump and made me feel alive. I live to destroy. It is who I am, what I am. I am poison, a monster in the dark. Do you still think I’m a good man?”
His words make me swallow bile. He is a Fraser, the son of a mob boss. I didn’t expect he would be rainbows and unicorns. But hearing his candid words makes a chill run through me. Who has he tortured, and why?
“What happened?” I peer up at him, my heart pounding in my chest, but I’m still not scared. I’m worried for him. He’s walking along an edge, and he may drop off it if I don’t keep tight hold of him.
“You need to leave. Before I do something I can’t take back.”
His eyes flash dangerously. Is he still drunk on the bloodlust of what he did?
I shake my head, refusing to leave him trapped inside his own mind with whatever he is dealing with. I recognise the monsters staring back at me because I’ve seen them in Declan’s eyes many times. His temper had terrified me. I don’t feel that same fear from Luke. He may be lost in whatever he’s feeling right now, but he’s not so far gone that he’s going to destroy me. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I steel my spine, unsure what he’s about to do. So I’m surprised when he slams his mouth against mine, devouring me like I’m his reason for breathing. He presses against me, making between my legs throb with need. I don’t care that he’s fresh from hurting a person. He is my only focus.
He slants his head, taking the kiss deeper until I’m gasping for breath. Then he pulls back, his forehead pressing against mine. “I need you.”
I cup his face. “I’m right here. Tell me what happened.”
He slams his fist into the wall next to my head and lets out a yell that makes my blood run cold. “They hurt my brother. He’s in the hospital. I had to talk to one of his men in an attempt to discover his location.” His lips curl into a snarl. “I’m going to hunt down Jeremiah Wood, even if it kills me, and I’m going to put a fucking axe through his heart. He came at my family.”
I understand his need to protect. I would feel the same in his situation if I had siblings and people I cared about. Declan isn’t my father, so I could have a whole family out there I don’t know about. The not knowing is the worst. I hate lying to Luke. He is my husband, and I don’t want to start our marriage based on a foundation of untruths. Admitting the truth may make me vulnerable, but better now than down the line when it has the power to wound.
“I’m not an Easton.” Saying those words should make my stomach twist, it should hurt, but I actually feel liberated. It’s like a weight lifts off my shoulders.
