Witchful Thinking (34 page)

Jolie, stop crying, dammit!
I yelled at myself as I threw my door shut and collapsed onto my bed.

But the tears wouldn’t subside—they just kept pouring out of my eyes as if they had a mind of their own. And really, it’s not like my mind was doing anything to help curtail them. Instead I couldn’t stop repeating Sinjin’s words, running over and over through my head—“When will you realize he does not love you and never will?”

The sad, desperate truth about the whole situation was that maybe Sinjin was right. Maybe Rand didn’t truly love me. Yes, Rand seemed to think he was in love with me and had said as much, but maybe it just wasn’t the case—maybe he only thought he was in love with me? I mean, if Rand truly, deeply loved me, then why wouldn’t he have found a way to be with me? Yes, there were plenty of obstacles stacked up against us, but wasn’t love supposed to trump everything standing in its way? Wasn’t that what all those sappy love songs were about?

I stood up and wiped my eyes against my shirtsleeve, walking toward the window just beside my bed. I glanced outside but saw nothing in the dark. Even the milky rays of the moon were hidden by a cluster of billowy, dark gray clouds. The comparison between the
dark night outside and the darkness that seemed to have taken up permanent residency within me wasn’t lost on me. In a sudden bout of anger I smashed my fist against the windowsill, which did nothing but ricochet pain up my arm.

“Fuck!” I screamed and then broke into another round of sobs. My entire life had entered a tailspin, like I was in the throes of a hurricane—a tempest of emotions battering me with regret, pain, and anger.

Yes, 1878 Rand loved me, and no, it was not an option to return to him. So what did that mean for me today? One thing of which I was certain was that I absolutely, wholeheartedly loved him—and yes, I wanted to be with him. In my picture-perfect notion of an ideal world, Rand was and always would be by my side. The miserable truth of the whole stupid matter was that I wanted to grow old with him. Even if we could never have children, I didn’t care. Rand was enough for me.

But was I enough for him? The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I was really stuck in a tough situation. It would be one thing if Rand had admitted to me that he didn’t love me and never had—then I could merely retreat and lick my wounds until they healed. I would get over it. Of that I was sure—because I was strong.

That wasn’t the case, though. Rand believed himself to be in love with me, and yet he seemed unable to act on that love. Why? I really had no clue. At first it seemed to be the monarchy situation that was holding him back. Then it was the bonding situation. And really, these were just the most recent roadblocks. When we first met, it had been the fact that he was my employer! Bah!

The more I thought about it, the more I realized Rand had a serious problem—his inability to pursue what he wanted. Yes, I always knew he overanalyzed everything and weighed the consequences of every action until he
was red in the face. But now actions needed to be taken. The time for thinking was over. Now it was time to act.

And suddenly my answer was obvious—I needed to hear the words from Rand’s lips. If he didn’t love me—if he didn’t want to pursue me and allow me inside that fortress he called his heart—I was giving up. I would move on. Yes, it would be difficult, but I’d have to apologize to the figurative Rand of 1878 and then lock away those memories and my associated guilt forever.

As far as the Rand of today was concerned, he had only one more chance. He either needed to claim me or let me go.

I heard the sound of raindrops splashing against the windowpanes and glanced outside again only to watch a bolt of lightning brighten up the night sky. The brief show illuminated the rain, which was now falling in torrents. As if the lightning weren’t warning enough to stay inside, the raucous round of thunder grumbled through the sky. Yet it did nothing to shake my determination.

It was now or never. Rand had to make a choice and I was going to force him to stick to it. As God was my witness, Rand was going to make a damn decision. With a renewed sense of determination, I took a deep breath, trying to prepare myself for the confrontation that was soon to occur once I got the nerve to visit Rand’s guest room. Almost immediately a flood of doubt and thoughts of second-guessing myself broke through my mind.

What would I say to Rand? Would he even be in his room? What if he’d decided to return to Pelham Manor?

In this storm?

Well, maybe he has a date?

A date? It’s not like Rand has much of a social life
.

Okay, that’s true, but what if he happened to have met someone and eagerly wanted to return to Pelham Manor to drown his frustrations about me in the eyes and smile of some new woman? What if I walked in on a
super-embarrassing situation like Bridget Jones did with Daniel Cleaver and that American woman?

Thank God I’m not wearing a bunny suit
.

Really, Jolie, don’t be stupid—Rand isn’t dating anyone
.

Hmm, Rand’s dating life aside, maybe I should just call him first? Maybe that’s a better thing to do than knock on his door or drive to Pelham Manor?

But if I called him, what would I say? “Hi, in a total lapse of sanity, I’ve freaked out and I demand you tell me if you’re in love with me and want to be with me?” Yeah, no
.

Oh my God, Jolie, what is wrong with you? You have completely lost it. You’re arguing with yourself!

I had lost it. I was standing in the middle of my room, caught between taking a few steps to the door and reaching for my cell phone. I glanced at the clock and noticed that ten minutes had gone by. I would stay firm in my decision to demand an ultimatum from Rand. It was now or never, remember?

Maybe I’d try the phone. I turned away from the bedroom door, took the three steps separating me from my iPhone, and took a deep breath as I lifted it.

“Jolie.”

I think my heart stopped for a second or two and I had to ask myself if I’d just imagined Rand’s voice. I mean, I hadn’t even dialed his number yet. It was like I was in slow motion as I turned around and saw him standing in my room, the door still open behind him. He was panting and soaked, presumably from the storm outside.

Neither of us said anything—we just stood staring at each other like we were the stars in a silent film. I was the first to speak.

“What … why are you here? What happened to you?”
I started, still wondering if he wasn’t just a wet figment of my imagination come to destroy my wood floors.

He didn’t respond. Instead he closed the gap between us and before I could say another word he grabbed me, pulling me into his wet and cold chest. He didn’t even pause before his lips were on mine and his tongue was in my mouth. I started to succumb to him, started to allow the butterflies in my stomach to take over, but then I felt something burst inside me—something that was full to the brim with frustration and pain. Tears assaulted my eyes and began streaming down my cheeks and before I knew what I was doing, I felt myself pull away from him just at the same time that I smacked him right across the face.

He reeled back and held his injured cheek, shock in his eyes.

“What the bloody—” he started.

And maybe his words were all I needed to hear because whatever was brewing in the cauldron within me was now boiling—roiling and spitting like an angry cat.

“You are a coward!” I screamed at him as I pounded my fists onto his chest in mute frustration.

“Jolie!”

I didn’t dare look up at him but continued my assault on his pecs, throwing as much rage into my fists as I could muster.

“Stop it!” he ordered, trying unsuccessfully to grab my wrists.

“Why are you here?” I yelled. “Do you get some sort of perverse pleasure from fucking with my feelings?”

He finally managed to round up my fists and when he did, he held them in front of me while I attempted to wiggle out of his iron grasp. “I could ask the same bloody thing of you!” he railed at me, managing to catch me completely off guard.

“What?” I started but he interrupted me.

“What the fuck were you doing in Sinjin’s car?”

“I don’t have to answer to you,” I spat back and struggled to free myself so I could deck him again.

He held my wrists even more firmly, and it was pretty obvious I wasn’t about to free myself anytime soon. “You’re right, you don’t have to answer to me.” Then he dropped his hold on my arms and stepped away from me, running his hands through his wet hair. “I’m sorry I came … I … just watched you get into Sinjin’s car and something inside me snapped.”

The thought that he had watched me leave with Sinjin was something I wasn’t prepared for. But it was also something I didn’t want to concern myself with—his jealousy was not my problem. I shook my head and suddenly felt exhausted. “I don’t get you at all … your actions just never make any damn sense.”

“I think they make perfect sense,” he said and shrugged. “I’m jealous.”

“That’s just it!” I said in an angry voice. “There’s no reason for you to be jealous because you don’t give a shit about me!”

Rand seemed taken aback—I wasn’t sure if it was due to the venom in my voice or my words. “Jolie—”

“I want you to admit to me that you don’t love me and you don’t want me and we won’t ever be together,” I said.

Rand looked perplexed. “Why?”

“So I can move on and heal and never think about you again!”

Rand shook his head. “I can’t admit to any of that because it isn’t true.”

“I don’t understand you, Rand.” There was nothing left in my voice—no fight, no anger, just exhaustion. “And why the hell are you soaking wet?”

He cleared his throat and appeared to be embarrassed. “After I watched you leave with Sinjin, I was so consumed
with anger, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I just stood there in the rain like I’d lost my mind.”

I was surprised to say the least. That wasn’t like Rand. “Then you must have seen us return, what, five minutes later?”

He nodded. “Where … why were you … perhaps I would rather not know.”

“Nothing happened between us, Rand,” I said in a defeated voice. “I wanted something to happen but I couldn’t bring myself to see it through.”

“You wanted something between you and Sinjin?” Rand asked, his brows furrowing.

“I wanted to escape my life here.”

“Why?”

I laughed, but it was an empty and cold sound. “Because of you. Because of the fact that I just don’t know how you feel about me, why you seem to care about me and yet you never act on your emotions, why you won’t just claim me.”

Rand ran his fingers through his hair and exhaled slowly. “Jolie, I love you and I’ve always loved you. There’s not an hour that goes by that I don’t think about you.”

“But—” I started.

“I just don’t know how to deal with your new role as Queen,” he said and there was something odd in his expression. Something worried or concerned maybe. “I don’t have the makings for a King, Jolie. I’ve never wanted to be the leader of our species. I don’t have your talents.”

“Rand,” I started.

“No, let me finish,” he said firmly as he dropped his gaze to his feet. He took a few seconds and then glanced up at me again. “You should not love me. You should love someone who is good for your kingdom, someone who can advance your cause.” He let out a strange sort
of laugh. “I can still barely stomach the fact that I’m willingly taking part in a monarchy.”

I was quiet for a second or two. “So why did you come here, why are you here now?”

He shook his head and dropped his gaze to the ground again. Apparently noticing the large puddle beneath him, he narrowed his eyes and it disappeared, his entire person suddenly dry—as if he’d never been in the rain in the first place.

“Because despite the fact that I’m convinced I’m not good for you, I’m also not going to let you go.”

His voice was rough and before I could comprehend it, he grabbed my arm and pulled me into the nest of his embrace. He held me tightly and stared down at me with passionate eyes.

“I don’t under—”

And then his lips were on mine and his kiss was demanding, hungry—as if he were making up for lost opportunities. Well, it was about time! Holy freaking cow was it about time.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and opened my mouth as his tongue plundered mine, mated with mine in an age-old dance. His fingers snaked through my hair and worked down my neck to my coat, which he deftly removed, letting it fall to the ground.

I pulled away from him because I suddenly wanted to make sure we were on the same page. I had to make sure that this new announcement of his meant what I needed it to mean—that he wasn’t going to change his mind at some later date.

“What are you saying?” I asked, albeit breathlessly.

Rand’s jaw tightened. “You want me to claim you? Then call this me claiming you.”

He pulled me into his arms and lifted me, bride style, as he started for the bed.

“And you aren’t going to change your mind in two
hours or tomorrow or the next day?” I asked. “Because that would destroy me.”

Rand shook his head and stared down at me. “No, I’m not going to lose you. I would never forgive myself.”

He settled me down on the top of the bed as I leaned on my elbows and watched him. He stood at the end of the bed, his chest rising and falling with his belabored breathing.

“Then it’s you and me?” I asked. “For the long haul?”

He nodded. “You and me.”

“No going back?”

“No going back.”

I gulped and looked around, suddenly realizing what this meant. “And what happens now?”

He tore his T-shirt over his head, and his incredibly sculpted chest met my hungry gaze. I wanted more than ever before to run my fingers across the hills and valleys of his beautiful body. To taste the saltiness of his skin, to listen to the beating of his heart and feel his warmth.

“Now I’m going to make love to you,” he said in a throaty voice.

I felt butterflies flutter up in my stomach as he approached the bed. He climbed on top and was as powerful and sleek as a lion as he moved up my body, pinning me beneath him. He brought his fingers to my face and traced my hairline, his hand disappearing behind my neck as his lips descended on mine. He kissed me much more delicately this time.