Immortal Healer (12 page)

It was the judge that concerned him most. And he caught himself staring at nothing at all, not even her, as he devoted entirely too much of his time to worrying. Abigail could be explosive when she felt challenged. PTSD. Abso-fucking-lutely and she’d earned that distinction. He didn’t have any problem understanding why she’d become somewhat scrappy when left to struggle through life on her own. He didn’t want that to be a struggle she had to deal with any longer, but this judge was a hurdle they still had to cross. And hopefully one they could cross without her turning into a firecracker with a short fuse.

Abigail wasn’t mean, not in the least. She wasn’t a cruel or angry person, but she was vigilant, and she fought back when she felt frightened or threatened. If the judge wanted to modify the suspended sentence and propose something stricter, Abby would have to deal with it. If she accepted, she’d be forced to go in front of the man to do it. And that could possibly be explosion worthy material. Quentin had read enough of her past court transcripts to know it wouldn’t be the first time, and it would hurt her.

It would drive him insane, not being able to temper her reaction. He’d become quite comfortable and confident in his ability to calm her with a gentle touch to her body when she needed it. He loved the response she had to him for very personal reasons, but it was also quite effective. Being forced to keep his distance when she had to go in front of the judge would mean she was entirely on her own. She needed healing not punishment, but the system wasn’t designed for that, and he dreaded how she would handle herself if the suspended sentence didn’t go through the way they needed it to.

But as he watched her finish with a swipe of mascara to her already long lashes, he pushed it from his mind. He’d decided they were going out, if for no other reason than to take their minds off the wait, and when Ember and Truman arrived, Ember came bearing Red Sox ball caps for herself and Abby. Abby was stunning with a ball cap on, and he was high fiving Ember in his mind for the gesture.

When Truman approached Abigail, Quentin watched as she stilled. Truman was off around her, and Quentin understood why. He seemed oddly sad, in a way, as he looked down to Abigail, and Quentin’s heart stilled at Abigail’s own fear. She didn’t know Truman, and though the man would die before he hurt an innocent such as herself, she just couldn’t see it. It was a glaring reminder of just how uncomfortable men could make her. Quentin walked to her, pulling Abigail’s hand into his own. Her heart relaxed.

Ember watched them closely with her own look of encouragement aimed squarely at Truman. “I’m sorry. I can tell you’re nervous, and I don’t intend to frighten you. I just need to … well … I owe you an apology.” She stared at him with a dumfounded look on her face that left her speechless. “Mason used to be the head of my family. I’m the one who killed him.”

“And you’re apologizing for that?” She cocked her head to the side slightly as Quentin stroked the palm of her hand lightly.

“I saw you once when I was there. It was the night Mason threatened Ember’s life and told me I had to leave her and wipe my memory from her mind. I was always the rightful leader of my family, and I just never wanted the responsibility. I knew Mason was a monster, and I knew the types of depraved things he was doing, but I was so caught up in Ember’s life and her safety…” He shook his head. “It’s not an excuse. I let his reign go on far too long, and people were hurt by him as a result.
You
were hurt. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry my inaction caused you more suffering and torment.”

He looked a bit devastated, and she looked stunned for a moment. “It’s okay.” Truman didn’t look convinced. “You killed Mason. That kinda makes you okay in my book.” She tried a smirk, and he gave her a small smile. “Please don’t feel bad for this. Ember was your fight, and I get that.” Truman still regarded her seriously. “I don’t need your guilt. Please don’t… Not on my account.”

Quentin was suddenly flooded with pride. Her heart was still pounding, and there was no doubt that being comfortable around him was a struggle, but she was handling it.

Ember smiled at her warmly as she approached her. “He’s been worried about this for days.”

“He shouldn’t be.”

She took Abigail’s cheeks in her hands and kissed her forehead quickly. “Glad to hear it.” She gave her an affirming nod before linking arms with her husband. “Now, bring on the Sox!”

Truman drove, and Quentin climbed into the backseat with Abigail. Her hand found his, and he trilled with excitement, like a pathetic school boy with his first crush. Ember’s eyes found his in her visor mirror, and she smiled.

“Have you seen the Red Sox before?” He leaned to her ear as he spoke.

“Not for many years. We used to go on occasion when I was in college, the girls and I, but … that was a long time ago. At least it feels like it.”

“The girls?”

“You know … wild pack of immature college gals that pal around doing stupid and reckless things. College campuses are fraught with herds of these bizarre creatures. Hard to imagine I was once one of them.”

He chuckled. He loved her wit. The fact she’d not lost it was a testament to who she was. Or perhaps she developed it to cope. Either way, he couldn’t help but be impressed by her—who she was able to be beyond it all. “And where are the girls now?”

“A few of them visited me after I was released from jail the first time. But it was a bizarre time. No one knew where’d I’d been. The police only barely believed me when I told them I’d been abducted, and no one quite knew what to make of me, including my dear friends. They quickly disappeared.”

He couldn’t imagine what her life had been like from the time he’d run into her in the hallway that night until he found her again, but it had to have been a nightmare—only marginally better than her time with Mason if he was guessing. “Are you glad you came with me now?” His voice was quiet, too quiet, and he was nervous for some odd reason, as though she might break his heart. Ember reached quickly to the radio and turned it on, giving them a marginal amount of privacy.

“Yes.” The word rushed out as soon as she heard his question, and her head whipped to him. “Yes. I wasn’t sure at first, but … yes.” Her lips nearly brushed his cheek, and he could feel the warmth of her breath against his skin.

When he turned toward her to comment, his lips brushed past hers as his mouth found her ear. “I’m glad.” Their heads were bowed to one another, their lips to one another’s ears, and it was the sexiest damn moment of his life, or perhaps just the most intimate.

“How long do you expect me to stay with you?” He could hear her heart race as she asked the question, and his did too to imagine her not there.

Honesty to the point of vulnerability probably wasn’t the best approach with her at the moment, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to be anything but. “I enjoy you. I don’t want you to leave. But once your life is back on track, it will be your decision.”

Her lips trembled against his ear when she responded. “I don’t want to leave.” And his heart soared.

He kissed her cheek before pulling away. To say he was conflicted was an understatement. His attraction to her was intense, far more so than he’d ever experienced, but his feelings for her, whatever the hell they were, were just as strong. But she didn’t need a man. And he didn’t want to be a man who betrayed her trust and pushed their relationship outside of the safe, comfortable trust they had in one another. He couldn’t do that to her.

He also wasn’t entirely sure he could resist her.

He never removed his hand from hers as they parked, walked the distance to Fenway Park, and made their way to their seats. She instantly snarfed down a hotdog that he was certain could only loosely be considered food, and when she took a swig of beer, Ember started eyeing her. Ember had transitioned less than a year before, and she wasn’t very good at being a vampire when she was around food. She looked ravenous, and when Abigail hopped up to catch a cotton candy vendor who had made it past her, Ember turned to him instantly.

“This is torture. Torture. Hotdogs, beer, all of my favorites.” And then she commented with a dreamy expression in her eyes. “Do you think she could just drink a lot and eat a lot, and then donate blood, and I could just…”

“You’re being weird.” He muttered with a smirk, and she smiled.

“So, you two seem … cozy.”

“It’s complicated.”

“It always is. Relationships just have that tendency.”

“We’re not in a relationship, Em. We’re just … close.”

“I can see that. Do you mean to tell me you’re not crazy about her?”

“We’re not having this conversation.”

“Oh,
we’re
having this conversation.” She challenged good naturedly, and then Abigail appeared. “Just not today.”

When she sat back down with a massive ball of spun sugar on a stick in front of her face, he started to put his arm around her shoulder, but the moment he met Ember’s smirking expression, he pulled back, and Ember stuck her tongue out at him.

Ember was fun. She was spunky with a great sense of humor. She hadn’t always been so carefree, but life was good to her now, and she found her stride easily in their world. Her sarcasm reminded him very much of Abigail—but only the Abigail he got see when they were alone. His relationship with Abigail was complicated. There was no denying it, but there was also no denying it made him whole in a way he’d never felt before. He didn’t get bored with her, not ever. She gave his life some type of meaning that went far deeper than the role he’d chosen to play in her life. It all meant something so much deeper than that.

*

She fell asleep on the ride back to the building. She felt tired and worn down, and while she was definitely over the pneumonia, she couldn’t seem to shake the exhaustion. Perhaps it was the first time she’d found real rest for years, and her body was making up for lost time. Rest and sleep were now a far more peaceful thing than they had been for so long, so in some odd way, she didn’t mind the exhaustion. She loved to curl up next to him, and so she did.

He lifted her from the back of Truman and Ember’s SUV, and she only barely woke as he bid them a good night before they pulled away from the curb, headed toward their Gloucester home. He carried her inside. “Good night Jonathan” he spoke quietly to the valet as they passed through the lobby to the elevator. She’d drank a bit too much, and she was entirely too sleepy and comfortable in his arms to object. She listened as the elevator reached their floor and then it was softness and the scent of his bedding.

She could feel him slowly undressing her, and arousal flooded her in euphoria that left her wet between her legs. She listened as he inhaled deeply and moaned. She knew exactly what he was doing, and in her comfort, she didn’t care. He’d enjoyed it, and she enjoyed knowing he had.

The hat was pulled from her head, and she lazily opened her eyes as he unbraided her long pigtail braids. He broke up the woven pattern as her aching hair follicles thanked him. She sat as he pulled her T-shirt off over her head. When he reached to her back and unhooked her bra, she gasped and froze in place. “It’s okay. You know I won’t do anything to you.” He said it to comfort her, but instead, it was a stab of pain. Yes, she knew he wouldn’t do anything. The problem was—she wanted him to.

He peeled her shorts down her legs and dropped them by the bed, leaving her underwear in place, and after he quickly undressed, leaving his on as well, he crawled in next to her and pulled her into his arms. She could feel his arousal, large and desperate beneath the fabric of his underwear, and she snuggled up close to him, letting her belly run along the turgid bulge and her hard nipples scrape across his chest. He moaned, but he didn’t pull away. She wanted so much more. She wanted to touch, but even while she contemplated that move, she drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 13

The next afternoon, he received a phone call from Devlin. He was sitting at the bar in his kitchen, watching her be completely human and enjoying himself immensely, while she cooked something completely unrecognizable to him which came in a box. Devlin asked them to come to his office as soon as they could. It was Thursday, and she was due in court the following day. They’d been patient long enough, and if the judge was going to accept the bargain, it was really now or never.

It was ridiculously bright and sunny, and when they were finally on the road, his skin started to flush and burn almost instantly. She was lost, looking out the window in thought.

“I’m nervous.”

He was too, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. This was not a woman who needed to sit through a court case, and he was nearly desperate for the judge to agree to these terms. But with her record… He was also far too attached to her to see her drug off to jail for even a week.

He reached for her hand as her eyes looked to him. “I know you are, sweetie. Be patient. We’ll know soon enough if this trip is worth our time.”

“What if he doesn’t go for it? I
am
guilty. I can’t stand the idea of going to jail right now.” He knew exactly how she felt. It would be the biggest interruption to her life, to their life—whatever that really meant. He couldn’t stand the idea of it either.

All he could do was squeeze her hand gently…

She trembled all the way to Devlin’s office, and he studied her. He listened to the rapid beat of her heart. She met his eyes several times but looked away quickly. For all of the refusals she gave him to take her criminality serious in the beginning, he didn’t need her words to let him know she was very serious about it now. He took it as a good sign she was ready to move on from that past—desperate to move on more like.

As they entered, the prick they both enjoyed disliking so much looked at them. “We have a deal. The judge has agreed to the sentencing bargain. You will plead guilty tomorrow, he will sentence you as we discussed at that time. You will start the program next week on Monday.” He didn’t smile, he didn’t give her any reaction whatsoever. He truly didn’t give a fuck, but at his words, Quentin spun to her and pulled her up into his arms and off the ground. She clung to his shoulders burying her head in his neck, and she started to cry softly against his skin.