The Pawn (Shattered Series Book 1) (34 page)

       “Javier and Luna had no part in this! I decided to come here on my own, even though, they did everything in their power to persuade me not to, in the end. They knew that you’d behave like a selfish, childish, immature, and pig-headed fool---did I leave anything out? Good thing you have me to set you straight because I won’t stand for your boorish behavior, not for one minute,” she fired back, and her brown eyes shot daggers. “So, if you want to blame anyone for my being here as your stowaway and invading your private space, you can blame me.”

        He narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I
will
lay the blame fully on your pretty little shoulders. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised since you never know when to leave well enough alone,” he scowled, returning her fierce stare. “Well, you’re here now, damn it! What do you have to say for yourself?”

       Breathing fast and unevenly, Olivia stared back at him with defiance. “I’m here for one thing and one thing only,” she said, raising her chin stubbornly, and for the first time, showed signs of falling apart. “I’m here to save you----from yourself.”

        “Save me from myself?” he repeated in disbelief, frowning, and struggled to hold onto his anger. But, her wounded expression was making that difficult. He stepped further under the light, granting her a better view of his battered features. “What in the hell kind of nonsense are you spouting, woman?”

        “Jarrod---” she whispered, shocked, and covered her mouth with trembling hands. She winced openly at the sight of the fresh cuts and bruises. “Dear heavens, what happened?”

        Jaw tightening, fighting to control his emotions, he asked in a calmer voice, “Again, I asked why you are here.”

        Though only a short space separated them, they seemed worlds apart.

         But, their deep need---

         They sensed it from the other, though they didn’t voice it.

         The tears shimmered in her eyes as she watched him.

         Finally, she moved towards him.

         As she edged closer, he fought to hide his joy and relief.

        
Oh, how he needed her…

        Instead of saying that raw truth, he said instead. “Damn it, answer me, Olivia. Why are you here?”

        Taking a shaky breath, she looked him straight in the eye. “I told you---I’m saving you from you.” A hint of tears played in her voice. “Jarrod, I was so scared for you. Are you okay?”

        A strong wind rushed in and rocked the boat precariously, and she yelped in surprise before falling into him. “Take it easy,” he muttered, closing his arms around her and steadied her. “I’ve got you.”

        She traced a gentle finger along his bruises. “Jarrod…you’re hurt.”

        As he absorbed her sweet softness, their deep stare held, and he struggled to ignore his manly response to her. Already, he could feel a boner coming down low, he mulled, stepping back slightly. “It’s nothing,” he rasped, grabbing her wayward hand. How was it possible that the feel of her fingers against his skin would cause such unbearable pleasure and pain? Wincing, he sucked in a painful breath, fighting hard to ignore the burgeoning sensations searing him alive. “So, don’t worry about it.”

        “What do you mean, it’s nothing? I can see the pain on your face,” Olivia scoffed, pulling back, and then, reaching up, she grasped his face in her hands. A look of pity and empathy flashed along her features. “It looks like you were nearly beaten to a pulp. Your left eye is purplish-looking and swollen. Blood has dried and crusted at the edge of your lips.” She pursed her lips, trying to stop their violent trembling. “I admit that Javier was pretty banged up, but his injuries aren’t as bad as yours.” The huge tears pooled in her eyes. “Luna said that you and Javier were taken hostage by two men and beaten. Why or how could someone do something so horrible and cruel? I’ll never understand why others work so hard to inflict pain on others.” Her voice broke when she spoke again. “If anything were to ever happen to you, I couldn’t bear it.”

        Her eyes searched his.

        He sucked in a painful breath.

        There it was….

        Reflected in her beautiful, soulful brown eyes----

        The very thing that he’d been running from for the past year or so---

        Deep, intense, unconditional love….

        Did his eyes mirror the same emotion?

        As she spoke, she broke through his wayward thoughts.

        “Look at me,” she demanded softly, directing his gaze to hers. “Are you hurting anywhere? Show me where you hurt.”

        As their gazes held, the silence stretched in the room.

         He held her stare.

         Just how much of the real truth could he reveal?

         Could he really open some part of himself to her?

         Inside of him, something snapped.

         The bridge way to the barriers that surrounded his lonely heart for the longest time…dare he let her in?

         With a subtle slowness, he closed a hand around hers before placing it over his beating heart. It was racing and out of control, all because of her, and only her.

        Somehow, she understood his hidden unspoken message, he realized, watching as she bit her trembling lips in response. She blinked furiously at the tears as she attempted a weak smile.

        The love in her eyes was so blinding that it sent his heartbeat skyrocketing, and heaven help him, he wanted to embrace it selfishly. At once, his entire world was knocked off kilter, and he had to remind himself to breathe. The storm of emotions rushed through him, crippling him, and for the first time in the longest, he didn’t know how to react.

        And the inevitable truth---

        It snared him, forcing him to face it again, like it had in the darkened jungle earlier. But, realizing it once more, made it no easier to bear.

       
Dear God, I love her….

        I love her…

        The breath expelled from his lungs in a rush.

        And the core of his damaged soul---it wept from the beauty of his acceptance of it.

        For a moment, and only the briefest one, he squeezed his eyes shut and embraced the earth shattering peace that it brought. But, then reality hit in resounding waves, reminding him that he had no right to the love that she offered.

        There was only one truth that mattered.

        He didn’t deserve her love---

        On a ragged breath, his eyes flew wide open, and cold hard reality stared him in the face. Straight to the deepest core, the truth of it seared his damaged soul. “Olivia,” he rasped unsteadily, and to his shame, tears filled his eyes. “I---”

        “Baby, you’ve been through a horrible and frightening ordeal. It’s only natural that you’d be emotional about it,” she said, wiping the stray tear from his cheek, and offered him a teary smile. “Right now, I should be taking care of you instead of rambling on like a bumbling idiot.” She caressed his face gently. “Please, let me take care of you for once.”

        At once, going mute, he nodded.

        Satisfied at his response, she grabbed his hand again before leading him from the salon. Within moments, they’d reached the stateroom.

         No lights burned in the room.

         When she moved to flick on the light switch near the door, he grabbed her hand.

        “No,” he murmured, closing her hand firmly in his. “Leave them off.”

        She hesitated. “Alright,” she agreed quietly. “I suppose that you need a moment before I take care of your scrapes and bruises. That’s understandable. With the storm and everything that’s happened tonight, you probably haven’t had the opportunity to regroup or gather your thoughts.”

        After leading him to the bed, she gave him a gentle push.

        Without protest, he sat down, watching her small figure in the murky darkness.

        “I know that you have to have a first aid kit in here somewhere. If nothing else, you’ve always proved resourceful,” she rambled on nervously, pulling open various drawers in the corner. When her hands landed on the first aid kit, she gave a triumphant sound before heading back to him. Stopping before him, she popped the lid open on the first aid kit. “Hmmmm…” she mulled aloud. “What do we need to fix you up? Oh yes, definitely the antiseptic ointment.”

        Still, continuing to make nonsensical conversation, she placed the first aid kit on the small square table beside the bed before moving back to him. “Open up,” she murmured, wedging herself between his open thighs, and at once, the smell of sweet jasmine assailed his senses. Holding the ointment in one hand, she balanced the other one on his shoulder, and unsurprisingly, she trembled all over. Deep down, he understood that it was due to their nearness rather than the raging storm. In the murky darkness, their gazes held, and now, her voice was unsteady. “Nice and wide for me.”

        Holding her stare, he did as she bade.

        But still, he kept his hands steady on her waist which left her positioned quite snugly between his muscled thighs. She talked as she worked fast, spreading the ointment on all the wounds and bruises. But, the only thing that he concentrated on was the pulsating beat at her neckline---it rivaled his own thundering heartbeat.

        “Olivia,” he said, grasping her wrist, and stayed her movements. “I think that’s enough for---”

        The tears swam in her eyes. “No,” she whispered defiantly, pulling her wrist free. Then, dropping the ointment to the floor needlessly, she framed his face in her hands again. “I meant what I said. I’m saving you from you.”

        “Saving me from me?” he managed to rasp, staring at her. “What do you mean?”

        She bit her lip in concentration. “You’ve been on a path of self-destruction for too long, and this self-loathing that you have against yourself is totally unwarranted and unfair. I want you to stop punishing yourself for whatever it is that you’re punishing yourself for.”

        Stunned in silence, he stared back at her.

        His heartbeat drummed against his chest.

        Once before---before the accident---

        Hadn’t she used those very words?

        She braced her hands against his broad shoulders, edging closer to him, and now they were only a breath apart. “B-but, I’m so tired,” she stammered, and a tear plopped against her cheek. “I’m so damn tired. These last months have been almost unbearable for me. I don’t know how to say this, but it’s time that I did. I suppose the only way to say it is just to say---” Lips trembling, not finishing her words, she swallowed hard before looking away from him.

        The fear slammed into him, and he was afraid of the words that would come.

        Was it possible that she’d already reached the end of her rope with him, and wanted nothing further to do with him? Had she decided that he wasn’t worth the cause or worth loving, realizing that he was nothing but a complete fuck-up? Did she want to leave him and walk away forever?

        The air constricted in his lungs.

        His beating heart----

        Wasn’t it already bleeding crimson red?

        And didn’t it weep at the thought losing her?

        Although that very moment was inevitable---

        Suddenly, he couldn’t look at her, too frightened at what he’d find. He stared at a blank space in the darkness. “Tired of what?” he asked, finding it hard to breathe.

        Could he really endure any rejection from her?

        A cry erupted from his soul, but he forced it down.

        Taking a painful breath, he forced himself to look at her again.

        “Pretending,” she whispered, holding his gaze. “Pretending that I don’t feel anything for you----when all I want to do is shout to the world how I really feel about you.” Her voice broke. “Jarrod, I have feelings for you.”

        With brutal force, her words slammed into him.

        The obscured world of loneliness---the one where he’d existed alone with nothing but bitterness, suffering, and pain as his dark companions---

        Hadn’t he existed within it for far too long?

        As he inhaled a sharp breath, the living air filled his lungs, and he felt like a dying man, having received another chance at life. At once, the heavens opened, bringing both light and rain to his lonely soul. Somehow, he found strength to speak. “Olivia---” he whispered in an unsteady voice. “I---”

        She laid a finger against his lips. “All along, it’s been you who’s been lost, and because of my amnesia, I thought it was me. But, it has always been
you
instead.” Her tear-filled gaze bewitched him. “Aren’t you tired of running, Jarrod? Running from yourself, me, and the things that we’re both feeling?”

        Weakened by his own resolve, he swallowed against the hard tears burning his green gaze. “Olivia--”