Embrace the Wind (21 page)

He nodded. He should have said something like, ‘Well, thank the Goddess for that’, but he couldn’t be flippant, not right now.

He felt the need to say something, but words wouldn’t come. They were stuck somewhere, maybe in his past, maybe in his marriage to Emily.

“Olivia,” he began.

“Yes?” She was breathing better now. Color suffused her cheeks. She’d never looked more beautiful.

He leaned down and kissed her. Maybe if he couldn’t use his words, he could make do with his lips. He let his feelings rush forward as he pressed his lips to hers. When she opened for him, he slid his tongue inside and took possession of her mouth.

He wanted more. That’s what he knew. He wanted more but he didn’t know how to ask, how to shape his desire into words that would make sense.

She held him close, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, stroking his biceps and back, showing how much she loved his body.

Finally, he drew back. “This time with you has meant so much to me. You’ve been one of the biggest surprises of my life.”

She caressed his hair, still damp from the shower, then trailed her hand down the dagger tattoo. “I would say the same thing. I mean, I lusted for you all the time I ghosted you. But I never imagined it would be so exciting and unbelievably satisfying. I’ve never had sex like this before.”

He nodded. “Me, neither.”

“Really?”

He chuckled softly. “Only with you can I come more than once.” But did it mean anything?

She smiled. “It’s been a long, wonderful night.”

“You ready for sleep?”

“I am.”

Zane finally disengaged his mating vibration from around hers and at the same time withdrew from her well. He left the bed to bring her a washcloth to tuck between her legs. She thanked him sleepily, turned on her side, and closed her eyes. He was pretty sure she drifted off then and there.

He stayed where he was for a good long moment, staring at her lovely features, at the fur on her hands, both of which were tucked beneath her cheek.

Who was this woman?

He had her memories living inside his mind now, and he let them flow once more, a reliving of her life that took only a few seconds. What he felt above everything was the loneliness she’d endured, especially as a child.

He knew that recent events had changed her future forever, especially because she would now be connected with the shifter packs of his realm. She would enjoy a sense of community she’d never known before.

When he finally left her bedside, and hopped back in the shower, he took his time. His long hair was always a pain and right now he needed to work some damn crème rinse through to the ends.

He also needed to think, because he felt his mating frequency making even greater demands than ever. Rationally, he wasn’t ready to bring this woman permanently into his life. Yet other parts of him longed for her. Should he give in to those cravings?

Memories of his unhappy marriage still haunted him. He knew he was in large part responsible for what had happened between himself and Emily. But he was a man of commitment, and he’d been prepared to endure their almost constant quarreling for the sake of upholding his vows.

Then Emily had died.

And now Olivia shared his bed.

~

Olivia awoke later that afternoon, at dusk, which came fairly early to the northern realm. She listened to the sounds of the cottage and realized Zane was already up. She could smell coffee brewing.

She felt like a slacker. She’d done this twice now, rising after him, and it seemed very odd to her not to be out of bed before her man.

Her man.

She smiled, loving the feel of the expression.
Her man
.

She sat up, drawing her knees to her chest and overlaying them with her arms. She was completely naked, having fallen asleep right after Zane had thoughtfully brought her a cloth and placed it against her well. She smiled, thinking just how much of his seed he’d planted inside her. Would it take root? Would she bear his vampire child?

It was highly unlikely, though. Conception was not necessarily an easy matter for long-lived Realm-folk.

She was deliciously sore and almost called Zane back to bed for another round, but decided against it. She knew she had to talk to him about Emily. And even Regan had confirmed the necessity of getting this terrible business out in the open.

She slid from bed and her eyes popped wide, because another stack of her clothes sat on the dresser next to the bathroom doorway.

Zane was incredibly thoughtful, and her heart warmed a little more.

She showered and got ready for the night. She wasn’t certain what would happen next, whether Zane intended to take her back to her Barker’s Bend home, or what? Maybe his brigades had defeated Margetta at the Dead Zone, but there were always enough rogue Invictus pairs, unattached to Margetta, who required his Vampire Guard to keep patrolling through the night. Or maybe he still wanted her to stick close. She wasn’t sure.

Whatever the case, she showered, washing her hair and afterward taking her time to get it all dry. Once she’d donned a fresh pair of jeans and a soft lavender, long-sleeved t-shirt, she moved into the kitchen.

When Zane saw her, he wore such a tender expression that her breath caught in her throat. Though he was preparing their first meal, he stopped what he was doing and greeted her with a warm embrace and a full kiss.

She melted against him, fully aware she didn’t want to leave. Ever.

Suddenly, her heart beat hard in her chest. The time had come to tell him the truth about Emily. But she knew Zane, knew what he’d suffered because of his belief that his wife had died. To bring her back to life in this way, seemed cruel.

“I’m cooking scrambled eggs. How does that sound?”

“Perfect.”

Before he did anything else, however, he poured her a mug of coffee and handed it to her. “Thank you.”

He frowned slightly. “You okay?”

She nodded, then rounded the kitchen island and sat down on one of the tall stools across from him. She settled the mug on the counter.

As he worked over the pan of eggs, he asked, “What’s wrong? And don’t tell me ‘nothing’ because you’re jittery as all hell.”

“Is it that obvious?”

He glanced at her, scowling, then turned back to shut off the heat. He ladled the eggs onto two plates, along with slices of toast and bacon he’d already prepared.

“I haven’t known you very long, Olivia, but your memories tell me when you look like this, you have something that needs saying.” He put her plate in front of her, then sat down beside her.

“You’re right, but I have no idea how to begin.”

He took a bite of toast and sipped his coffee. “Just say the first thing that comes to mind.”

“Okay.” She launched in. “A couple of years ago, I saw your wife’s paintings in a gallery in Freeport.”

Zane set his toast down then his mug. “What? I don’t understand. Emily had never been outside Swanicott. How could her paintings have been in Maine?”

Oh, God, how could she do this? But he needed to know, though she chose not to answer his question directly. “One of the paintings was of your lighthouse home on the bluff overlooking Maris Luna. It was beautiful.”

Zane shifted toward her. “What the hell are you saying? Emily never left Swanicott, not once. I didn’t want her to. So, I don’t know what you think you saw, but it couldn’t have been Emily’s work. I have her paintings in my attic.”

She put her hand on Zane’s shoulder and squeezed hard. “I’m saying that Emily is alive. These were the memories Regan prevented you from seeing. Emily is alive and has been living in Freeport for the past five years.”

He stared at her for a long, difficult moment, a deep furrow between his brows. He shook his head repeatedly, then shrugged her hand off his shoulder.

He left his stool and began to pace. “This is fucked up. You’re lying, but why would you lie to me about something like this?”

Olivia pulled her phone from the pocket of her jeans.” She flipped through her photos and held one up for him, the first of several. “Then who is this?”

~

Zane drew close and stared at a photo of Emily smiling. She had a strong, pointed, very fae chin and he would know her dimples anywhere. “When was this taken?” It had to be some kind of mistake.

“I took several photos at the time, though I never thought I’d use them like this, here with you, tonight.”

He took the phone from Olivia and flipped through several more, all of Emily and the Freeport gallery, as well as a number of her paintings, ones he’d never seen before. If he hadn’t believed the photos of her, he could believe the artwork. She had an unusual and very specific style, one that always showed the wind of Swanicott.

He handed the phone back to Olivia, then turned, crossing to the sliding doors. His meal forgotten, he went out onto the deck.

His wife was alive and living in the U.S., in a small town in Maine where she was clearly making a good livelihood as an artist.

His wife was alive.

Olivia joined him, but gave him a few feet of space, waiting. Smart of her.

He turned to her, hands drawn into fists. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just did and if you’re going to say I should have told you from the beginning, you have to remember, I was busy saving your ass. Given the circumstances of the past two nights, I didn’t think it was in any way a priority. But it is now, so you can take your belligerence and shove it.”

Her challenging attitude gave him pause and for some reason calmed him down. He took a deep breath, turning to scowl out at the forest. He couldn’t seem to process what Olivia had just told him. Sweet Goddess, his wife was alive and well in Maine.

Regan’s earlier cryptic words now made sense, which meant if he’d doubted Olivia, Regan had just backed up her story.

He shook his head. “So, given the evidence, she must have faked her death.”

“Looks like it.”

He glared at Olivia. “You’re sure cold about this.”

She shrugged. “Your wife was an unhappy artist and she left you the only way she knew how. I know your temperament, Zane. You wouldn’t have let her go without a fight, a very public, humiliating spectacle.”

“Well, fuck you.”

She didn’t seem to mind. “You can’t offend me with these words.”

“Well, how about with these; get the hell out of my life. You don’t belong here. You never did, you never will.”

He saw the quick hurt in her eyes and regretted what he said immediately. But he was too distressed to take his words back.

“No problem,” she said.

She turned and headed back into the house, leaving by way of the front door. And he didn’t stop her. He couldn’t. He was sliced to the core with this news about Emily. He’d been such a brute to his sensitive wife that apparently the only way she saw out of their marriage was to fake her death. Maybe he hadn’t been happily married either, but he’d never quite seen himself in this light before.

In the distance, he heard the front door shut.

His shoulders sagged.

Olivia.

Sweet Goddess, what had he just done?

Why the hell had he said that to her? For a woman who had never belonged anywhere until the past couple of nights, he couldn’t have said crueler words.

He needed to go after her and apologize.

And he would, but not yet. First, he had to process what he’d just learned, then figure out what to do about his wife?

After a few minutes, however, he realized that he’d never truly believed Emily was dead. On some realm level, he must have known she was still alive, yet he never allowed himself to consider the possibility. Of course, to do so would mean he’d have to own up to his temper, his obstinacy, and to the fact he’d chosen the wrong woman to wed.

All his frustration over his marriage rose to the surface once more. Only this time he made a conscious decision to let it all go. Having spent a few nights with Olivia had helped him to understand that Emily had simply not been the right woman for him. And he’d definitely been the wrong man for her.

In fact, what truly bothered him was that his wife had believed it necessary to stage her own death in order to escape him. Regan had been right when she’d challenged him about Emily needing her freedom. To her sensitive nature, he must have seemed like a wild boar always jabbing at her with his tusks.

He owed the woman an apology, a very big one.

How many times had she asked him for a divorce, but he would never agree to it. She’d taken matters into her own hands and had forsaken her life, her world, in order to find some peace in the U.S. How much her marriage to him had cost her.

Somehow, he’d find a way to make it up to her.

Sweet Goddess, Emily was alive. He knew it would take some time to truly process what this meant, but for the moment he was grateful Olivia had been the one to tell him. Her presence in his life made it easier than it might have been otherwise. Olivia was strong, forthright, very physical, and a good match for him. She had no problem challenging him and she made him laugh. And maybe it was the contrast between the two women that helped him to move forward.

Olivia.

A strange sensation, like a stream flowing over a waterfall, ran through him: Awareness, perfect understanding, a sense of time and space coming together seamlessly. Love.

He loved Olivia.

He loved her passionately.

She’d become the moon and stars to him, the booming thunderstorm in summer, the wind blowing hard off the ocean over his rocky barren land. She was a battle Zephyr, a shifter, a woman of independence and ready for anything.

And he loved her.

He’d also cast a cutting barb at her and she’d left.

His chest felt crushed once more. What if she never forgave him?

~

In her wolf form, Olivia headed back to Barker’s Bend, but not to her house. Instead, she bounded and raced to her farm just a few miles south.

She hadn’t left the cottage because of Zane’s absurd words, but because she’d become acutely aware in that moment just how much she’d grown attached to the Mastyr of Swanicott. Watching him devastated by the fact that his wife had faked her own death rather than fight Zane for a divorce, had made her own heart ache as it never had before.