Polar Opposites (In Aeternum Book 4) (34 page)

She shook her head then tugged the blanket up around her shoulders. A wind had picked up and was actually cool over her exposed skin. “How about a drink?”

“How about a shower instead?”

She sighed. “I am kind of rank. Okay, I can do that.” Still exhausted—and more than a bit intoxicated—she wobbled the few times she attempted to rise.

Ivan didn’t comment, just removed the blanket he’d put there and scooped her up in his arms and strode inside. Part of her wanted to argue but the glint in his eyes warned her to keep it quiet.

He didn’t slow at the shower, instead opened the glass door and stepped inside. Keeping her in his arms, he turned on and adjusted the water, which sluiced down over both of them. Once he seemed content with that, he placed her feet down and assisted her to stand on her own.

Her limbs were shaky but the warm water felt so nice on her skin. She turned her head to stare at the man behind her. His shirt was plastered to his chest, allowing her to see the defined muscles. He settled his hands on her shoulders and angled her back to face the spray. She had a moment of refusal but, damn it, this felt too good and she closed her eyes.

His fingers dallied along the back of her neck and she experienced a tug before the top of her bikini fell from her to land on the shower floor. He continued down her sides to the ties at her hips and deftly removed the bows so that piece of material, too, soon joined her top. When he removed his touch, she swayed but he soon returned.

The rich scent of her bath wash filled the air. A light kiss of vanilla combined with a provocative blend of dark berries, like plums and black raspberry. Ivan began bathing her, using long strokes and small circles with her loofa. She kept her eyes closed as he continued, remaining where he’d positioned her. His touch was incredible but she didn’t have the energy to pursue anything more. As it was, the longer this took, the more she shook. Not from cold but because she’d not had any substantial food for a good while. Alcohol wasn’t conducive for keeping her in top shape.

She opened her eyes when he leaned close and shut off the water. He’d removed his clothes as well and she couldn’t help but appreciate his body. Ivan assisted her out of the large shower and stood her on the mat where he ran a large towel over her then wrapped it around her, tucking in the end by her breasts. She waited while he quickly dried himself.

“Come.”

It was the first word he’d spoken since suggesting she take a shower. He held out a hand and she took it. Ivan led her up to the bed and indicated she should sit there. He tossed her a bathrobe then rooted around in his bag for a pair of shorts.

With her in the robe and him in the singular item of clothing, they went to the living room where he sat on one of the couches before tugging her down with him. Silence reigned as he wrapped his arms around her and cradled her.

Bailey drifted in and out of consciousness as she didn’t fight the exhaustion she’d been running from for so long now, it seemed. Each time she woke, Ivan was there. Holding her, touching her. Keeping the demons at bay.

He barely said a word, other than offering her water. She never once witnessed any condemnation in his gaze or any judgment. This time when she woke, her head was clearer than it had been and she stirred in the warm cocoon he had created around her.

“What day is it?”

His arms tightened briefly. “Two days since I arrived. Thursday.”

She rolled so she could see him, his scruff highlighting his chiseled jaw. His eyelashes in this light looked dipped in gold and as usual that glacial blue of his gaze made her heart skip a few beats.

“Why are you here?”

“Because you needed me.”

Anger flickered anew. “Is that the only reason?”

“I’m not going to fight with you, Bailey. You can yell all you want but I won’t fight with you. I want you to tell me what happened with these nightmares.”

She pushed her head into his chest, so she wouldn’t have to see his eyes. “I’m supposed to be strong.”

“You are. Never doubt it.”

“I’m weak. I let some damn dream derail me from what I am supposed to be.”

He moved his hands over her back. “And what exactly is that?”

“A person who doesn’t let dreams kick their ass.”

“Hmm.”

She sniffed. “Hmm, what?”

“Well, I just thought you were human, like the rest of us, capable of having moments of weakness.”

“I’ve not had them before.”

“It happens. To all of us. There comes a time when we’re hit with the fact that no matter what we had imagined ourselves to be, how strong, powerful, whatever, that we are nothing beyond human and we have to succumb to that knowledge.”

“I shouldn’t have to.”

“Why not? Because your parents were killed in front of you? Because you feel betrayed by McNeal and what he’s done and hasn’t told you?”

When he put it that way, she sounded foolish. She sobered and lifted a hand to settle upon his warm skin.

“I want to kill him.”

“I don’t blame you. He’s an ass and, worse, he’s a manipulative ass.”

“You know what he did?”

“Not all, no.”

“He used me.”

“People do that from time to time.”

“When he told me my need for revenge wasn’t important, I lost it. How could he say that? Did you know they were killed on my birthday? I hadn’t remembered that. We were supposed to have cake after lunch. I never got the cake.” Her chest felt so empty.

In a sense, she supposed it was foolish to complain about not getting the cake, but she had long since been confused as to how she should react. Ivan didn’t respond—she was happy he didn’t. She knew he was listening but she didn’t want any judgment, just wanted to get it off her chest.

If he had the chance to wrap his hands around McNeal’s neck and squeeze the very breath from his body, Ivan would take it.
The bastard.
What kind of man used people like he did?

He ensured to keep his body relaxed, not wanting to share his own anger with her. She needed to let go and move on. He still couldn’t even begin to express how deep his fear had been when he’d first stumbled upon her. The haunted look, shadows and lifelessness. That wasn’t even taking into account the drinking.

However, she had been responsive to him, thus far. He continually moved his hands in a soothing motion on her back, bunching and straightening the material as he went.

“Cake,” she muttered. “There wasn’t cake. Just blood.” Her entire body shuddered. “Blood on me, my dress, my hands and face. Spilling into the water of the stream, staining the hem of my dress.”

Lord help him, he longed to take all the pain from her and give her nothing but wonderful memories. He knew he couldn’t but damn it, he’d never felt as helpless as he did being unable to take away her pain.

What had that been like for a six-year-old child? To have her afternoon ripped apart by gunfire and death.

“He came,” she continued. “I saw his boots first, he stepped into the stream, sending the red farther away. They were black and he crouched down so I could see him. He covered my hand with his and lifted me into his arms. I knew him, I felt safe. He carried me away and to his vehicle. As he buckled me in he told me it was okay if I cried.” Another tremor racked her. “I didn’t. I never did.”

“Never?” Ivan couldn’t stop the question from slipping free.

She shook her head, the motion moving her hair back and forth along his skin. “Nope. I’ve not cried since before that day. Not a single time. Does that make me a bad person, that I didn’t cry when they died?”

He gripped the material covering her. “No, and don’t you even think it.”

“What six-year-old doesn’t cry when they witness their parents die before them? Me, that’s what kind. There’s something wrong with me. All I felt was anger. And shame. Shame I’d not listened to my mother and anger that man took them from me. I wanted him alive so I could kill him myself.”

His fingers found skin as he continued to rub her back.

“And he manipulated that hatred.”

No need for him to ask who the ‘he’ was she meant. He had his own beliefs on the wrong way that McNeal had handled this but it wasn’t time for him to air his own anger. This was about letting her work through this and being there for her.

“I don’t know how he got me to forget him.”

“You were a child who’d experienced a horrific tragedy, Bailey. Your mind was protecting you and closing out that day. And that part of your life.”

“I should have known when I felt like I should know him.”

“You need to stop being so hard on yourself about this. Cut yourself a break.”

“I wanted to kill him for using me.” Her fingers gripped his sides. “He was there that day they died. He used my parents as bait and watched them die. The woman he loved, he did nothing to save. Why am I supposed to believe I mean anything to him? He says I do but I don’t believe him.”

“I would take it all away if I could, Bailey. I’m sorry.”

She stiffened. “I don’t want your fucking pity.”

“It’s not pity, Bailey. I don’t pity you in the least. I’m sorry you had to endure what you did but I don’t pity you. Look at what you’ve become.
Who
you’ve become.”

“Someone who just goes out and kills, apparently not a good person.”

“So McNeal isn’t the only stupid fucker. I shouldn’t have said what I did, either, but I did. I can’t take it back. I wasn’t looking at it from your point of view. But you’re right. You’re a soldier and you follow orders.”

“I wasn’t looking for your approval.” Her tone had grown sharp.

“Wasn’t caring if you were or not. That was actually an apology for my asinine behavior.”

“What kind of guy apologizes as well as saying and doing nice things?”

“One who was brought up the right way.” He gazed around the room. “Just because I don’t walk around cussing and cupping my dick every other second doesn’t mean I’m less than a man, Bailey. I may be a scientist but I’m in no way a pussy. My mother raised me to be respectful, polite and admit when I was wrong. I’m man enough to do that. It doesn’t threaten my manhood to say those words. I’m a genuine person, I love my friends and will do what I can to keep them safe. For the woman I love, why the hell wouldn’t I apologize if I was wrong? Just to appear like I’m more alpha? I know I’m an alpha male, I don’t need to act like Tarzan. Most guys I know who want to be that way are more of a ‘pretend to be Tarzan but act like Jane’.”

He leaned back and tipped her head up so he could stare at her. Her eyes were still haunted and it ripped at his gut in ways he had never known an emotion could.

“You’re not like any man I’ve met,” she admitted.

“Is that a good thing?”

“I don’t want to disappoint you.”

He shook his head. “I’m not following. How would you disappoint me?”

“Look at me,” she cried.

“I am. Still not seeing what you think I should be obviously seeing.”

“I had a nightmare and went on a drinking binge.”

“You’re right. Hang on”—he lifted her arm—“nope, not there”—drew back the collar of her bathrobe and stared down—“not there either although there is temptation in there”—he brushed a finger along the whorl of her ear—“here it is. Do you know what I see?” He kissed behind her ear. “A sign that indicates you’re human and, like I said before, allowed to act like one.”

Her chuckle, however slight, warmed his soul.

“I’m still so angry at him.”

“Is there a time limit you’re allowed to be angry?” He pulled back and stared at her, completely serious. “I mean, why can’t you let it work itself out?”

“I threatened him.”

“I know, he told me.”

“He also said if I went off the deep end he would send people after me.”

“You’re a dangerous woman, Bailey. You frighten him.”

“Why are you here if I’m so dangerous?”

Ivan framed his hands along her face and handled it how it handled life. Straightforward. “Because this scientist is in love with the dangerous woman before him.”

“Even though I’m not prepared to deal with my feelings?”

“You’re not a prickly Saguaro cactus, Bailey. Quite the opposite.”

She rolled away from him onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t know what I want to do anymore.”

“Tired of what you’re doing or not sure anymore?”

“Some of both. I’m scared I will want to exact my own revenge.”

“He killed the ones who did this, yes?”

She nodded.

“So what would the revenge be against? McNeal himself?”

“I don’t know. I just wanted to do something.”

He lay beside her and laced his right hand through hers. “Then do this—live your life. Be happy. Don’t let them control how you live your future.”

“And if I don’t go back to work for Theta Corps?”

“Then you don’t.” He stared at the blending of their skin and the beauty it created.

“It wouldn’t bother you?”

He brushed his lips over her knuckles. “So long as you’re happy, that’s what I care about.”

She opened her eyes and reached up to touch his face with the pads of her fingers. It was gentle. Loving. Exploratory.

“Your eyelashes are tipped in gold. I thought it was my imagination but it’s not.”

“It’s so they can match your eyes.”

She chewed on her lip and avoided eye contact. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Come with me back to the States.”

“And do what?”

Good question. “Well, you could rest and figure out what you wanted to do with the next step of your life. I will be teaching during the day but the nights I promise will belong to you and you alone.”

She held his gaze again. “Teaching?”

“Yes. I’m in a small town in Georgia teaching high school.”

“Something happen at the lab for you to leave?”

“I was reassigned for a while. They are looking at—”

“They’re recruiting.”

“Yes.”

“How big of a town?”

“Not big. There aren’t even a thousand in the town. The school is for the entire county. There wouldn’t be much for you to do at the apartment, but you are always welcome to come with me.”

“Is it nice there?”