CUL-DE-SAC (On The Edge Book 1) (38 page)

CHAPTER 46

Catalina was shuddering slightly, standing
under an umbrella in the Evergreens Cemetery in Brooklyn the next morning, at
the funeral ceremony of a man she didn’t know yet despised with her whole heart.

The cemetery bordered Brooklyn and Queens,
covering two hundred and twenty five acres of rolling hills and gently sloping
meadows. The trees and flowering shrubs surrounding them were arranged in a
park-like setting. Catalina thought it probably looked serene on a good day,
but today was hardly one.

The sky opened up above their heads,
pouring down in buckets, but she doubted it was a sign anyone up there was
weeping after Robert Thorpe.

Five people including them and the priest
accompanied Xan’s father to his final resting place, and Nina Thorpe was the
only one shedding tears.

Cat couldn’t help herself and some part of
her kept wondering if it was all true mourning or maybe those were tears of
relief as well. Although she didn’t think the woman would have ever admitted it,
even if that had been the case.

Xan stood tall and proud next to her, but
he was closed off and as inviting as the weather lashing at them. His face was
an implacable mask but his eyes were narrowed and she could see pure,
unadulterated hate burning in the green depths.

It worried her greatly because the
punishing emotion had been buzzing in his veins since the previous day and he
barely said a word or two to her. She would have preferred him to feel
triumphant over the dead body of his late father. Anything would be better than
this rankling enmity, she thought.

It was obvious he found no peace whatsoever,
but she hoped he would be able to obtain the closure she so wished for him with
time. She well knew herself that there was no future if one lived in the past.
“Let’s go back to the hotel. I don’t want you to get cold in these wet clothes,”
Xan whispered the words in her ear and she sighed slightly.

It should have pleased her that he was
thinking about her no matter what, but even his care felt remote, scraping at
her nerve endings, pushing her closer and closer to her tipping point.
“Okay,” she agreed.

She watched him exchange a word with his
mother, who just nodded without even looking at him and she could just shake
her head.

She would have given anything to go back in
time and have one more chance to see her parents. Talk to them and hold them,
knowing it was a goodbye and had to last her for eternity.

She wanted to believe something could be
salvaged from Xan’s relationship with his mother, but now she knew better.
Nothing was going to change the past and there was no future for them either.

They were silent during the drive back to
the hotel and all the way upstairs toward their room. She wanted to change out
of the wet black dress she wore to the funeral but she also wanted to talk to
Xan, to reach him through the wall he managed to build around himself.

She glanced at the breakfast that was still
sitting on the table. It was simple and delicious: fresh bagels, homemade
waffles, fresh fruit, a variety of excellent brewed coffees and teas. At least
she assumed it was delightful, but she wouldn’t know, since all either one of
them had for breakfast was coffee alone.

However, pulsating anger and coffee were
hardly going to be enough for long, Cat thought, and just like that, her outer
calm burst like a bubble.
“Xan, talk to me please.”

He looked at her from where he was standing
next to the bed, slowly unbuttoning his grey shirt. Even this shirt was like
showing his deceased father the middle finger, she decided. He didn’t consider
Robert Thorpe worthy of putting a black suit on.

No, not even close.
“About?” He raised one eyebrow but he didn’t particularly look interested in
participating in conversation of any kind, Catalina noticed.
“Your feelings, plans, anything!” She clenched her hands, realizing she was
close to throwing them in the air in a gesture of frustration.

His feigned calm was pushing her and it was
her temper that started to ignite–not his–this time.

Xan sent her another glance, taking in her
slightly disheveled look, deciding she looked utterly too tempting even damp
from rain and with her cheeks flushed from the irritation he could glimpse in
her eyes.

Or maybe because of that.

Nobody could have accused her of being
collected and as untouchable as the porcelain doll he thought her to be, he
decided.

He just wanted to be done with this day,
this place and go back to his life as if nothing happened. Yet Catalina wanted
to prod at things better left alone even though he couldn’t be clearer that was
exactly how he wanted to play it.

He expected to be thrilled standing above
his old man’s grave. It was almost as if finally having the last word in a
forever-ongoing fight. But to his never-ending frustration, it didn’t happen.

He felt indifferent, if anything at all,
although the presence of fury–constantly riding him hard–kept warning him there
was more behind this veil that so conveniently separated him from the rest of
the world.
“My plan is to get the fuck out of this damn city and get back to business as
usual,” he said, not seeing any point in pretending otherwise since they both
knew it for the truth it was.
“Just like that?” She looked at him incredulously, knowing his language deteriorated
whenever his temper was getting the better of him… or whenever he felt it could
help him intimidate someone.
“Just like that,” he agreed calmly even though he could feel this calm fraying
at the edges, marking his vision with red spots.
“Xan…”
“Drop it, Catalina. I am grateful for your presence but I don’t want to talk
about it. I don’t feel the need to analyze every damn thing I do. Are we
clear?” He pierced her with a fierce look she didn’t seem to be taking
seriously enough.
“Crystal!” She sent him a mocking salute and
just like that
he snapped.
“What the fuck do you want from me?” He yelled but she didn’t back down as he
expected her, as he hoped her to.
“I want you to stop acting as if nothing touches you, that you are invincible
and have zero feelings,” she stated calmly, but he was past the point of being
self-possessed.
“You have no idea about my feelings!”
“Why don’t you enlighten me?”
“Do you want me to cry over all those years wasted on hating him while he
couldn’t be bothered to remember he had a son to begin with?!”

That was what he started to realize
standing in the cemetery today, he thought. His presence there didn’t change a
damn thing, not any more than his absence would. All that he was knew with a
sobering clarity that if Robert Thorpe was given a second chance, he would have
treated his son exactly the same if not worse. He would have taken the same
wrong turns and wreaked havoc wherever he went. He didn’t spend one second on
regretting and wishing to undo all the harm. People like him never did since
they didn’t consider themselves the guilty party to begin with.

Cat closed her eyes because his words were
causing pain to wake up somewhere within her that she couldn’t quite place. But
it was as vicious as his memories, along with his thoughts and his anger
sprouting from them.
“I want you to be real and honest about it, Xan. I want you to be anything at
all because this indifference you are trying to pull off is not working.”

He huffed and dropped his wet shirt to the
floor.

She hated the rough and cagey air around
him whenever he mentioned his childhood or his father, but this anger was a
festering wound within him, not letting him move on.
“Better yet, let’s talk about the fact I am just like him, harboring ill
thoughts and feelings toward everyone and everything just like he did. Maybe
that was what really killed him and not the knife of his inmate. What do you
think? He was a murderer, liar and the biggest son of a bitch I have ever known.
No matter what I do, his blood flows in my veins. Take a good look at me! This
is a man you allowed into your life… into your bed!” He walked toward her and
she saw a muscle in his jaw pulsating, just like his anger was vibrating in him.

A chill of foreboding coated his tongue and
this invisible clock ticked even louder in his head, counting down their time
together. The fact he was the one who set it into motion was completely
irrelevant to him.

Catalina didn’t back away when he stalked
closer to her and gripped her shoulders as if wanting to shake her. His touch
was far from being hurtful because even in anger he never allowed himself to
forget about his strength. And he was convinced he was just like his father,
she thought. She raised her hands to cup his rigid jaw.
“You are nothing like your father,” she said softly.
“You don’t know shit! You didn’t even know him!”
“I didn’t but I do know you, Xan. You didn’t let his distorted and warped character
destroy you; you’ve made something of yourself.”
“I didn’t go to fancy schools, Catalina. The things I did would shake your
whole world and shock your sense of right and wrong,” he argued.
“You did what you had to in order to survive. You think I don’t understand
that? That I would condemn it and you with it? You might pretend otherwise, but
I know that part of you is pushing for this fighting school because you want to
give kids like you an outlet for their aggression. You want to teach them more
than how to fight; you want to pass on to them discipline, purpose and all the
things that saved your life when you needed it the most. Your father would have
never done something like that, not only because he hadn’t seen any gain in it
for himself. He simply would have never even thought about it. Tell me I am
wrong!” She demanded pointing a finger at him.
“You are wrong!” He muttered and she just smiled.

She stood there and smiled like a crazy
person because she saw in his eyes that he was listening to her now, even if he
didn’t want to acknowledge the facts.

“You are trying to scare me off because I
came too close. You have a right to your emotions, whatever they might be, Xan.
You are constantly angry because you’ve been hurt and this hurt is still within
you. It hasn’t been attended to, hasn’t passed away on its own. It’s like a
living and breathing entity inside of you. That is why you can’t see past the
anger. He might be dead, but he still holds power over you. You are allowing
him to win when you keep this hate,” she said softly and he jerked out of her
hold.
“Nobody owns me! You have no idea what you are talking about!”
“Don’t I? Let me tell you one more thing; I could have never loved a selfish
man, a murderer, especially not after what happened to my parents. But I love
you because you are everything else but that kind of a man.” She looked him
straight in the eye and saw his eyes going wide and wild.

She was
destroying
him, he thought.

Pulling him toward a precipice just to
leave him on the edge and then cut him at the knees, shoving him into the abyss
until he was free falling without any hope of regaining balance or footing. She
stripped him bare, taking the whole control in her delicate and capable hands.
“Stop!” He demanded roughly.
“Why? Because I am destroying the image you had of yourself for way too long? I
know you care about me too, even if you have never said so. I can feel it in
the way you touch me.”
“You have to stop, Catalina.” He needed a moment to think.

A space between one breath and another so
he could make sense of all that she was saying.
“Make me,” she challenged him, and Xan’s last threads of common sense burned
down, taking any trace of civilization with it, leaving nothing but pure
instinct driving him now.

He gripped her shoulders one more time and
bent his head to attack her defenseless lips. Defenseless because the assault
was the last thing she was expecting and it was an onslaught, plain and simple.

She should have fought him when his tongue
plunged into the depths of her mouth but she didn’t, allowing him to take
whatever he wanted, however he wanted.

He moved his hands to peel down the top of
her dress until he bared her breasts, covered by black lace. He murmured sexual
words of appreciation when he rid her bosom of their confines.

She moaned when he dipped his head to lick
at her suddenly pebbled nipples. Catalina gripped his biceps, trying to anchor
herself in reality, but her whole world was shaking and her vision blurred when
she felt his teeth tugging at her sensitive flesh.

He pushed her against the door until the
cool face of the wood kissed her cheek. But his presence behind her was an
inferno. Xan took her hands in his, guiding them up just to pin them palms-down
on the wooden surface.
“Keep them there.” He ordered and she shuddered.

Cat wanted to ask what would happen if she didn’t
heed the order but he chose the moment for his wandering hands to roam under
her dress, rolling it up, and a breath escaped her.
“Give in to me, Cat,” he whispered wickedly into her ear and she shivered, not
only because of the words but also because a second later his teeth closed over
her earlobe and he bit down.

The unexpected combination of pain and
pleasure caused her to moan and it didn’t sound like a protest.

So he didn’t stop.

He was trembling himself, and not only from
the desire that she inspired in him. Her love declaration kept replaying in his
head without a break, intensifying his need and fanning the fire burning him
alive.