Immortal Distraction (26 page)

She pulled from his body and sat on the side of the bed. “Brit.” His voice followed her as she stood and walked toward the bathroom. “Brit. Talk to me.”

She rounded on him, pinning him to the bed with her cold, vicious glare. She was hurting, and she didn’t care that she was throwing it in his face. She needed to release her hurt and he was there. “Why? So you can comfort me, fuck me, pity the poor pathetic human. One of the most important people in my life is dead. You can’t do anything.” She was seething; her face pinched painfully in her state.

“I understand.” His voice was calm and warm, and for just a moment, she contemplated falling apart and letting him pick up the pieces. She wanted his support, needed it desperately.

But she also wanted to feel this pain. “How could you understand? You’ve never loved anyone.” His eyes showed his hurt even though his body and face remained motionless and calm. She was giving herself all the pain she could handle by torturing him.

When she turned from him before she could be more destructive to them both, he spoke quietly. “That’s not true.” She paused for half a second without looking back at him, and then letting her pain drive her further into her despair, she walked away into the bathroom without so much as a glance back at him let alone an acknowledgement that he’d spoken. What he’d said was somehow important, but she couldn’t grasp it in the single-lane highway to hell that her thoughts were running on.

When she’d safely enclosed herself in the bathroom and was away from the people who wanted her to feel better before she was ready, she sank to the soft, plush rug that lay in front of the overlarge tiled soaker tub. She curled up facing the tile front of the bathtub and stared. Her gaze followed the striations of the travertine, studying every ridge and indentation as they moved. The fibers in the rug were a fuzzy unfocused landscape in the forefront of her vision, soft against her cheek as she lay motionless on the floor.

She wanted to close her eyes and go back to sleep, but sleep was gone now. Her tears that had fallen so easily earlier were dried up and crusted to her cheeks, and the moment the thought entered her mind, so did the image of her mother’s tear-crusted cheeks and dead eyes. She’d seen so many dead eyes in her life, but her mother’s would be burned into her mind forever. She swallowed as distant pain worked into her mind. The misery was powerful, but her body couldn’t seem to react to it anymore.

She clenched her eyes tight shut, listening to the hum of the building through the rug and floor beneath. Heated air being pushed through ducts, electricity buzzing through circuits, water slowly circulating through pipes. The building hummed and whirred as if a living thing around her, and soon, she didn’t have to clench her eyes to hold them closed. She drifted away to some half sleep that felt awake but left her mind whirling in thoughts that made no sense to a conscious mind.

She could still hear muffled voices through the floor, and she imagined them sitting in Angus’ living room. She envied them more than anything in that moment. She could see herself walking into the room as though it were any other day. Ember would smile warmly, Truman would watch her in interest, and Angus would study her with his seductive eyes. She wanted to be sitting with them as though all was right with the world and her place was with the rational and emotionally unaffected, but it was a distant far off world that she couldn’t reach and certainly couldn’t be a part of.

Her tears came again and moments later they disappeared. She felt a bit crazy and wondered what would happen if she just stayed in crazy town. Could enduring this pain make a person mad? Could she slip away to madness never to return again? She didn’t want to get stuck in this place. Nothing felt normal or safe in her mind at the moment like some disjointed horror flick.

The door opened quietly, and she fought to bring her thoughts back to the real world. She was wallowing in her grief. She knew it, understood it very well, but she couldn’t escape it. She listened to his footfalls on the floor as they approached her, and when he sat on the side of the tub at her head, he leaned to the faucet and turned it on, leaving the sound of a roaring waterfall to reverberate up through the floor to her ear. She listened as the tub filled, and he sat motionless on the side of it.

After a few minutes the din of the water turned quieter as the water level rose, and he stood, rounding her body. He touched her cheek, brushing her short hair back from her cheek as his knuckles ran down the skin. He sat behind her, pulling her up to sit in front of him, and he pulled her shirt up over her head. She vaguely remembered him removing these clothes from her body earlier in the day, but it seemed a lifetime ago.

He’d made love to her as he always did, intensely, passionately, roughly, and soundly. Now, he touched with an exceptionally soft hand. He pulled her back to rest against his chest as he reached for the waist of her pants, saying nothing at all. When she was naked, he helped her in and climbed in after her. She collapsed to his chest, listening to the odd sound of his inhuman heart strongly beating its unique contractions.

“Are you here to fuck me?” She could hear the words in her mind before she spoke them, and she knew they were wrong, cruel, but she didn’t even attempt to stop them. Being cruel was as life affirming as fucking. At least this way, if he didn’t want to fuck, she’d at least have her cruelty to fall back on.

“Stop it, Brit.” His voice was powerful and controlled. His heartbeat stayed steady and slow. “I don’t want to get angry with you right now, but if you keep pushing it, there’s little chance I won’t.” She pulled from his chest, and he held her gaze with his serious and calm one. When he leaned to her mouth, he kissed her gently, and when he pulled her back to his body, he spoke quietly against her ear. “You’re going to get through this, love. I promise. But you’ve got to cut yourself some slack right now. Hurting me may be a very effective way to torture yourself, but it won’t get you through this. Let me help you.” She nodded against his skin and he kissed the top of her head.

There was a knock on the door shortly thereafter, and his arms tightened and shielded her body from view as the door was cracked open slightly. It was Ember. “Tru and I are going upstairs and Quentin left a sedative on Brit’s nightstand if she needs it. Call us if you need anything. And Brit.”

Brit raised her head to peer at the slight opening in the door. “Hmm?” It’s all she could manage.

“We’re so sorry. I’m thinking of you. Please let me know if you need to talk.” Brit nodded before sinking back into the warmth of the water and Angus’ body. He gently caressed her back, and her mind wandered to hell again for a while. But he was there now to pull her back, and when he pulled the drain and kissed her temple, it was to rouse her before he carried her to bed.

* * * *

He had never felt more helpless in his entire life. Hell, he’d never been more helpless. There was nothing he could do to fix this for her, and for a man who controlled his world and his reaction to everything, that was by far one of the more infuriating things he’d ever endured. He stared at her while she slept. She was murmuring and whimpering as she tossed and turned, and he didn’t need to be in her head to know it was an ugly place to be at the moment.

He eventually turned out the lights to keep himself from staring at her any longer. It was crushing his heart to see the twitching muscles, the erratic movements of her body, and the damned pain on her face as it contorted. It was bad enough he could hear her agony in the quiet moans and cries. She’d refused to take the sedative, and she was suffering because of it.

When he pulled her into his arms in the pitch-black of his bedroom, it was nearly dawn, but his room would remain as lightless as a black void … and he would stay with her every step of the way. He’d fallen in love with her. There was no sense pretending or denying he hadn’t. He was in hell just imagining her sadness, and he wanted to kill Driscoll for her sake alone. He wanted to take her pain and suffer it for her, and he’d never wanted to hurt himself to save another so much his entire life. In fact, never in his life had he been so willing to set himself aside.

Love sucked.

He allowed his mind to wander to images of her smiling. Her smile was a rare thing, though she had shared far more with him in recent weeks than when he’d first met her. She had a sweet smile that was also seductive and pouty. Few ever got to experience it, and he loved that he was one of the precious few who had. Her smile wasn’t at all contrived though; she just had angelic features, which were often scrunched and hardened in stress, worry, and just her damn frigid attitude.

It wasn’t hard to remember her smile, but it was hard to imagine it coming back anytime soon. This was a devastating loss for her, and it was the first time he’d ever really understood what it meant to lose someone. He’d given up caring about his family when he left their lives. It wasn’t even until a century later that he’d researched their demise, and it was with nothing more than the slightest interest. But he’d gotten to know and understand Brit’s relationship, tenuous as it was with her mother. She’d shared her life with him, the agony of growing up with her mother, the humiliation and pain. But he’d also seen the sheer panic and worry that loving her mother came with.

The dichotomy was astounding to him, but he saw it so clearly in her, and he understood—not because it was his life or experience, but because it was hers, and he was now so very interconnected to her. When he knocked down her wall, when she allowed it crumble, she’d given him herself to some degree, and he was better for it. He understood the world in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to in the past. He owed her a debt he could never repay for that. Caring was painful … but so fucking incredible even in its darkest moment.

She rolled toward him, wrapping her arms around him, and when she kissed him, it was bittersweet. It felt like her lips, and it reminded him just how happy and content they could be together, but in the same breath, it reminded him just how far away that was at the moment.

She reached for his body, working her hand down to stroke his cock. The gentle touch aroused him until, sadness aside, he was ready for her. When she climbed to straddle his hips, she raised her body up on her knees, grasping the shaft of his cock and slowly lowering her pussy to him. She didn’t feel wet enough as she pushed down against the head of his cock. The head was pushing and nudging against her entry, but she wasn’t aroused, and her tight passage stopped him from passing beyond her lips. But even before he could reach to touch and arouse her body, she pushed down hard, breaking through her sheath as a strangled cry escaped her lips.

“Brit! Oh God, Brit.” His own voice was uncontrolled as he felt her body force itself down onto him. The friction was intense, and he knew she was in pain, but she wouldn’t stop as she sank onto him to her depths. “Jesus, Brit. You’re going to hurt yourself.” She lifted herself from his body, and before she could plunge down over his erection again. He stilled her hips and spoke harshly. “Don’t! You’re not ready.”

“Please.” Her plead was croaked out on a whimper. He used his spit, rubbing his shaft and stroking the wetness into her sex. He was still partially buried within her body, and as he pulled his hand away, she pushed down again. She slid tightly but easily down his length, and when she pulled up again, he didn’t stop her from plunging hard back to his groin. She lifted and dropped, letting out a gut-wrenching cry as she sank to his lap painfully over and over again. And after he let it go on longer than he ought to have, he reached for the back of her thighs and pulled her legs around to his back as he sat to face her.

She seemed startled for a moment given the sudden pause of her movements, almost disappointed that he’d slowed her and made it difficult for her to be so rough with her body. He struggled constantly not to overpower her or be too rough with her, but on this night, she was fueled with tormenting pain, and her punishing movements nearly convinced him she was trying to hurt herself very intentionally. And he wanted no part of that.

He held her tight to his body, refusing to let her go. She struggled and squirmed to break free, but he pinned her chest to his, speaking quietly in her ear. “There are a great many things I’m willing to give you, but my body so you can hurt yourself with it is not one of them. Now stop fighting me.” She relaxed in his arms, and her head sank to his shoulder. He was deep inside her body, but she’d given up her punishing strokes.

When he rolled over and pressed her into the bed gently, he kissed the indentation at the base of her neck and pushed a gentle, deep penetration into her vagina. He pulled from her tightness just to sink slowly back in. She moaned and thrust her hips up to meet his slow stroke, but the moment she did, he pulled from her completely. “Lie still.” Her hips dropped back to the mattress, and he nudged, pushing past her lips, which were now slick with need. He slipped into her wet passage, driving slowly to her core. He made love to her as she lay still and calm beneath him.

He’d never been so gentle with her, and having gotten into the habit of falling apart at her first touch every time he’d fucked her, he’d started to think it would be impossible to ever go slow. But every deliberate, inching movement sent a trill of orgasmic need radiating out through his body. That tingle faded as he pulled from her pussy, but only for a moment until he was rolling his hips gently into hers again. She started panting as he rocked their bodies back and forth, and she whined quietly as she came close to coming.

She gripped his back with an arm under each of his as she clenched and pulled forward when her release finally overtook her. She nuzzled into his neck as he groaned and came inside her, and when the gentle and sensuous release passed, he nuzzled into her neck too, listening to the quiet whooshing life pulse evenly through her carotid.

She curled into him when he rolled their bodies to face one another, and shortly after, he heard her sniffles, smelled the saltiness of her tears, and felt them fall to his chest. He pulled her tight to him, kissing her forehead, and he held her as her body shook and trembled as she silently cried herself to sleep.