Twisted Affair Vol. 5 (3 page)

I wanted to tell him not to shorten my name, that no one called me Liv. I wanted to tell him not to say whatever he was going to say, but I suddenly couldn't speak.

“When you left me.” A pained expression crossed his face. “I looked for you and couldn't find you.”

I was confused. Why had he been looking for me? That didn't make any sense. And why was he telling me this now, when only moments ago he had been talking about my family?

“I hired a private investigator and he found some things that led his search back to the Czech Republic. He found out some things.”

I felt my throat start to close up.

His thumb brushed my bottom lip, sending heat across my mouth. I could tell that he didn't want to tell me what came next and I really didn't want him to. But there was a stubbornness in his eyes, and I knew I was going to hear it, no matter how miserable we felt about it.

“That night, your neighbor heard four shots before he managed to get into your house. Two hit your father in the chest. One hit your mother in the head.”

I remembered those. Even after all these years, I could still see their bodies jerking with the force of the bullets, hear the deafening bangs. My mother had fallen right in front of me. She'd been trying to protect us. Us. Katka and me.

“The last one...” The muscles in his jaw clenched. “The last one hit your sister in the stomach. Katka died that night.”

I slapped him before I realized that's what I was going to do. I was on my feet and moving away a moment later. “You are a bastard, Blayne Westmore!” Tears burned in my eyes. “How can you say this? You have been fucking my sister since we returned from our honeymoon? Did you think I would not figure it out? I left so you could be together and this is what you do? You come up with this horrible story to hurt me?”

His hands grasped my shoulders and he gave me a firm shake. “I would never do that!” His eyes were blazing with myriad emotions. “I would never hurt you like that!”

I shoved against his chest, but he didn't let me go.

“Please, Liv. Listen to me.”

“How can you say she is dead?” My hands curled into fists in his shirt. “You love her!”

He winced at the words and opened my fingers. Instead of releasing me though, he kept his hands wrapped around mine. He led me over to the full length mirror on the wall, then turned me so that both of us were standing in front of the mirror.

“Livie,
you're
Katka.”

I stared at his reflection. “Excuse me?”

“Since that day, you've been living as both yourself and your sister. You couldn't accept what happened and so your mind tried to protect you from it.”

He was crazy. He had to be. “That is impossible,” I said, shaking my head. “My sister and I were sent to an orphanage after our parents died.”

“The only name they have is yours.”

“They must have lost her records,” I said. “Perhaps in a fire or some sort of computer problem.”

“They didn't.”

“We applied for citizenship,” I kept going.

“Livie,” he interrupted. “I've spent the past two days doing my own research and having my PI use his contacts too. I have a copy of the death certificate. Coroner's report.” His voice softened. “Katka Duseková died in the Czech Republic at the age of seven.”

“No.” The word didn't come out as strong as I'd wanted it to. If anything, it sounded almost like a half-sob. “I don't believe you.” I could feel the walls I'd built cracking. My hands were shaking.

“The tattoo,” he said suddenly. “The tattoo on your hip.”

“I do not have a tattoo.” My hand went to my hip automatically. “Katka does.”

“That's how we settle it,” he said. “I've seen the tattoo. I know it exists. So if it's not there, all of my information is wrong.”

He was right, I knew. It was the best way to prove to him that my sister was alive and well. But the thought of showing him my hip filled me with an inexplicable dread. I set my jaw and reminded myself that I didn't have anything to worry about. I knew my sister, and she was alive.

I untied the belt of my robe, then realized that I wasn't wearing anything underneath. I glanced at his face in the mirror, but it was a mask. The only thing I could see was the pain in his eyes. I shifted my hands so that I could still keep part of the robe over my more private parts and then, biting my bottom lip, I pulled the fold of the robe aside, exposing my hip.

“See,” I said. “Nothing.”

His breath caught and I watched a tear slide down his cheek. But it didn't look like a tear of happiness. He reached around me and, before I could stop him, his fingers were on my hip. He wasn't trying for anything inappropriate, but my skin still burned as his finger traced across my skin.

“L and K,” he said softly. “In script, right here.”

I opened my mouth to tell him that I knew where my sister's tattoo was, but then I saw what I hadn't seen before. What I hadn't let myself see. There, as his finger made the pattern again, I saw it. The ink. The script. The letters.

My knees buckled and if he hadn't caught me around the waist, I would've fallen to the floor.

The memories hit me all at once, and I pressed my face against Blayne's chest as he picked me up.

He screamed for more money, said that what we had wasn't enough. His eyes were wide and wild, his hair stringy. Even from where I was sitting on the floor, I could smell him. He smelled like a toilet.

My sister was next to me, clutching her doll to her chest. Papa and Mama were standing off to the side and Mama kept looking over at us, like she wanted to get between us and the crazy man who'd interrupted our evening.

The second shot followed the first, loud bangs that made me jump. Katka screamed as Papa fell down, blood going everywhere. The man swung the gun towards us and Mama jumped even as he fired. Her head snapped back and I saw a hole where no hole had been.

I couldn't move, couldn't even scream. My parents had just been shot and the man who'd done it was now pointing his gun at me and my sister. I squeezed my eyes shut as tight as I could and reached for Katka's hand. I flinched when I heard the bang and waited for the pain.

Then I heard the door slam open and someone yelling. Another few bangs. Still, no pain.

Then the fingers wrapped in mine went limp and my entire world came crashing down.

Blood was everywhere, soaking into her pretty white dress. Her face was white, eyes open. I clung to her hand, crying and calling her name. I could hear other people around me, but none of that mattered because my little Kat wasn't answering. I was a child, but I knew she was gone. I was alone, and we'd promised each other that we'd never be alone. I begged her not to leave me.

Then arms were around me, pulling me away from her. I kicked and fought, screaming for my sister. It wasn't until much later, after all the tears had been spent and my insides were hollow, that I told myself a lie. Just a little lie. One little lie. It couldn't hurt anything. And, for a little while, it could make the pain less.

My sister was still alive.

I took a shuddering breath as a sob ripped out of me. It was true, all true. My little Kat, my baby sister, my twin...she was dead. I was aware I was crying out for her, English and Czech mixing. My eyes were shut, my entire body shaking with the force of my sobs. The pain was too much. I was being torn apart and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. I knew that something had happened to me and that, eventually, I'd need to process that, but at the moment, the only thing I could feel was the agony of loss.

I had no sense of time passing or anything other than what I was feeling. Little by little, however, my tears slowed and my breathing calmed. Only as that happened did I become aware that I wasn't alone. I remembered that Blayne had picked me up, but I hadn't paid attention to what had come next. If I'd have thought about it, I supposed I would've thought he put me on the couch or bed and left me there to mourn. What I wouldn't have guessed was what he'd actually done.

I was sitting on his lap, his arms wrapped around me and my face pressed against his chest. The scent of him was familiar even if this intimacy was not. It should have freaked me out, being held like this, but I let myself be comforted by it. If anyone could understand even a fraction of what I was feeling, it was Blayne. He'd loved Katka.

A hand squeezed my heart. He'd loved a lie. A wave of guilt joined with my sorrow.

I tilted my head up, intent on apologizing for everything I'd done. My eyes met his and I saw a glimpse of my own pain reflected back at me. Pain, and something else. Before I could try to figure it out, his mouth came down on mine.

Chapter 5

Blayne

I hadn't realized I'd been holding on to a faint sliver of hope until the moment Livie had exposed the tattoo on her hip. The instant I'd seen those letters, my heart had broken all over again. Then I'd heard her speak and knew she still wasn't seeing it. My eyes were burning as I reached down and traced the tattoo with my fingers. I could still remember how it felt beneath my tongue.

I watched as the truth broke across her face and caught her just before she hit the floor. Her cries were like salt in my wounds as I picked her up and carried her over to the sofa. I could hear Katka's name with a mix of languages, but I didn't need to speak Czech to know that it was all the same thing.

As I held her on my lap, I couldn't help but feel guilty. She'd been fine before I'd come into her life. If I'd never walked into Frankie's, never met her, none of this would've happened. She would've kept on with her life, believing her sister was still alive. And would that have really been such a bad thing? She wasn't hurting anyone by keeping Katka alive.

I couldn't deny though that the thought of never having met them –
her
, I corrected myself – was almost as painful as what I was going through now. Would I really trade what I'd had to avoid my pain? No, I thought. It was worth it. I looked down at the woman in my arms. For her though...would I give up those precious memories if it meant stopping her hurt? As she raised her head and her eyes met mine, I knew the answer to that question.

Yes.

I lowered my head before I knew what I was doing. All I knew was that I wanted to take away her pain, and since I couldn't go back in time to fix it, I did the only thing I could.

I kissed her.

Her mouth was salty with her tears, her lips trembling beneath mine. My instinct had been to comfort, but when she opened her mouth, her tongue teasing out against my lips, my arms tightened around her. I expected her to pull away, to push me away. Maybe even slap me again.

Instead, her arms went around my neck, her fingers twisting in my hair. I knew I should stop it, that she was vulnerable right now. We both were. And my body knew hers.

As she started to pull me down onto her, I broke the kiss. I'd done so much wrong. I had to do right here.

“We–” I began.

“Please,” she asked, her eyes shining. “If you ever felt anything for me, help me, for even a short time, to forget that she is gone.”

I kept my eyes locked with hers, searching for any hint of doubt. She ran her fingers through my hair and then down my cheek to my lips.

“Please,” she said again.

I couldn't deny her, not this. I shifted, moving her off my lap to lie back on the sofa. Her robe was still untied and it moved apart as she settled, exposing a strip of familiar flesh.

“If you want me to stop,” I said softly. “Just say it.”

She nodded, and I slid my hands up her long legs, moving until I was between them. I moved up on my knees, toeing off my shoes as I went. A flush crept across her fair skin as I pushed her robe aside, baring everything. It was odd to think that, though I'd seen this body several times, she had no memory of it. No memory of me touching her in this way.

I pushed the thoughts aside, leaned down, kissing her stomach just above her bellybutton and then worked my way up slowly, giving her plenty of time to speak if she didn't want me to go further. Instead, she made a small sound and put her hand on the back of my head. Her fingers moved through my hair as I reached the spot between her breasts. I cupped one firm mound, fingers teasing her nipple while I flicked my tongue against the other. She moaned, her hand tightening in my hair as I took her nipple between my lips.

It was strange. Her body responded to my touch, but not the same way as it had before. I could feel the difference. She wanted me, but she wasn't going to take what she wanted. My stomach twisted at the realization that she was trusting me to take care of her. Before, with her – I refused to think of either name – it had been equal parts give and take, relinquishing control as easily as I took it. Now, as she looked down at me, watching as I sucked on the sensitive flesh, the walls that had been there before were cracked and she was bare in more ways than one. The trust she had in me was humbling and I became even more determined, not just to please her, but to take her away from all of this for as long as I could.

I released her breast and slid my hand down her stomach, fingers dipping between her folds to find her already slick. She gasped as I rubbed her clit between my first two fingers, then cried out when my teeth scraped over her nipple. Her passage was tight as I slipped my middle finger into it, closing my eyes at the wet heat gripping my digit. My cock was already throbbing, straining against my zipper, but I kept my mind on the task at hand. This was about her, not me.