AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She glanced at her bandaged left hand, but it was as if it belonged to someone else—another woman, not her. Some other woman had grabbed at the knife to push it away from the heart of the man she loved. Some other woman had felt the blade slice into her flesh. Some other woman had felt the blood gush, warm and sticky, between the fingers she clenched tightly against the blood and pain. And some other woman had anxiously asked Trace, You are okay? He did not hurt you?
Some other woman. Not her.
She leaned her forehead against the cold window, and her warm breath misted the glass, hiding her reflection from view. Somewhere beneath her frozen emotions something moved, and memories crowded in. Memories that made her shiver as the cold could not. Memories that threatened her fragile control.
Trace touching her with loving, lying hands, stroking her, making her cry out his name as pleasure burst through her body for the first time. Click. And a photograph was taken. Herself bending over Trace, touching him with her hands, her lips, taking him into her mouth and loving him the only way she could think of, the only way he would let her. Click. And a photograph was taken. Trace caressing her bare nipples through the veil of her hair, making her tremble with a rolling tide of love and desire. Click. And a photograph was taken.
Each click in her head was like a lash against her heart, and she flinched again and again, fighting the memories and what they meant. Fighting to keep the pain at bay. Fighting to keep the ice shield in place. Because what lay on the other side of that shield was too terrible to contemplate.
Click. Click. Click.
Suddenly she knew she couldn’t stay here. Not another day. She would rather smash the window and slash her wrists against the shards of glass than see Trace again, knowing the truth about him...and about herself. The truth her father had tried to teach her. The truth Andre had repeatedly denied. The truth she’d fought against accepting when she’d fallen in love with Trace and resolved to earn his love if she could. Until now.
Worthless. Nothing as herself, just a tool, a means to an end, a way of controlling her brother. A way of insuring his “loyalty.” Just a pawn in someone’s macabre, twisted game of political espionage.
Click. Click. Click.
She darted to the purse she’d dumped with her briefcase on the chair by her bed when she’d come home from work, and fumbled in it until she found her cell phone. She thought for a moment, trying but failing to remember what time it was in Zakhar. Then she realized it didn’t matter, and pressed the one number she had on speed dial.
After a minute a deep voice sounded in her ear in the musical cadence of Zakharan...the sound of home. “Mara?” Andre asked, and though he didn’t say it she knew she had woken him. When she didn’t answer, he asked, “What is it, dernya? Is something wrong?”
The loving concern, the use of the endearing nickname only he used, shattered the ice encasing her. “Andre,” she began, but then tears clogged her throat and she sobbed.
“Mara!” She could hear the anguish in the way he spoke her name, and knew she had to tell him...something.
She sank to her knees beside the chair, her legs no longer able to support her, and fought the sobs wracking her body until she could speak coherently. “I need to come home,” she managed in a voice that shook with grief. “Please, Andre. Please send a plane for me. Now. Tonight. I cannot stay here. I need to come home. Please.”
How long she knelt by the chair after she’d hung up the phone she never knew. But her body was stiff and aching when she finally stood up. There were no more tears. Tears were a luxury she couldn’t afford. She needed to start preparing to leave, needed to mobilize her household, needed to think of everything that had to be done. And to do that she needed to be strong. Strong...like Keira. No, not like Keira. Keira made her think of Trace. And she couldn’t think of Trace. Not now. Not ever again.
Click. Click. Click.
* * *
Trace keyed in the electronic code to open the estate’s driveway gate, and thrummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel until the gate was open and he could drive through. Then he electronically closed the gate securely behind him. He drove up the winding driveway and parked his truck in front of the guest house, noting absently that the four-wheel drive Alec drove was already parked there, but Liam’s wasn’t. His brows drew together in a frown. Liam’s supposed to be on duty today, he thought. Did he and Alec switch and they forgot to tell me?
He rubbed his hand tiredly over his face—he hadn’t slept much the past few nights away. His conscience had been brutal, denying him sleep. He’d finally reached a decision this afternoon, and had hightailed it back here determined to make things right with the princess. To take back the lies he’d let her believe. Even though they still had no future, he’d hurt her more than he’d ever believed he could hurt a woman, and he would have no peace until he begged her forgiveness.
