Page 44 of Diamond in the Rough (The Diamond Trilogy 1)
The heart stops.
It’s a miracle she lived. A miracle I never deserved. So I lay her down on the bedspread, where she closes her eyes, immediately asleep. Then I climb in beside her, gather her still body close as if I can ward away death, and sink deeply into dreams.
There are vicious mermaids and dragons in my sleep.
And a war that both sides are destined to lose.
* * *
When I wake, deep night has settled over the house. I glance out the scalloped pink curtains to the moon. It illuminates a wide, empty field. It’s unlikely Adam could track us this far, but possible. Which damns me for taking these people’s hospitality.
There’s a bathroom adjacent to this room, with black-and-white tile and a claw-foot tub. I start the faucet and fill it halfway with steaming water. Then I return to Holly, who’s still deeply asleep. I pull her clothes off gently, careful with the wound at her side, wincing at the bloody mass of her feet. Her body feels impossibly slight in my arms, far too small for a whole, healthy person.
I place her in the water, and she startles awake, gasping.
“Easy,” I tell her. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.” Her frightened eyes meet mine, and my heart wrenches. What the hell am I doing to her? How will I survive her?
“Elijah,” she whispers before closing her eyes again.
So much trust.
I use a lavender-scented soap to wash the dirt and blood from her body. The water becomes a pale brown. I wash her feet tenderly, wincing at the cuts across the bottom. Then I go to work on her hair. The shampoo becomes a dull gray lather in her honey-toned hair. She probably needs an hour-long soak in a fresh tub of water to be fully clean, but her eyes flutter and her breath rises and falls—and it’s enough for her to be alive right now.
My thumb brushes over her bottom lip, and her eyes open.
“Your brother?” she asks.
“He’s on his way.” At least I hope so.
It’s possible he hung up the phone and then went back to work. We didn’t have family reunions. We don’t exchange Christmas cards. I have no idea what a real family would be like.
A few years ago when Liam left the military, he started his own private security firm. The only reason I know that is because I got a letter from a lawyer in the mail giving me a one-third share in the business.
Pretty fucking trusting considering I could be a psycho like our father.
I accepted the shares, technically, signing the paperwork and sending it back via the lawyers, but I’ve never participated in any other way. A ridiculous amount of money gets deposited into a bank account in my name every quarter.
This is the first time I’ve called the number on the paperwork.
“You trust him more than the police?” she asks.
The last time we spoke, I was an angry fourteen-year-old with a bad attitude. Liam had enlisted with a gruff goodbye and left without looking back. Was I pissed at him? No. I was jealous. Then a couple years later Josh left, too.
That’s when shit really got bad at home.
And now here we are, years later. It’s Elijah, I said to him. Yeah, we ran into some trouble on our honeymoon. Holly’s a little banged up. We both need some new identification.
He might have said, who the hell is this?
He might have said, fuck no.
Instead he said, “On it.” It was like we’d been working together for years. I knew in those two words that he’d move heaven and earth to accomplish the mission.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice rough.
“The couple? What was it you said to them about the night and the dawn?”
Of course she noticed that. “It’s a code.”
“What does it mean?”
“That we’re in trouble. That we need help. That we mean no harm.”
Actually it means that we’re part of the resistance fighting the French government. I took a chance that the farmers would know such a code and respect it, the same way they respect the seasons and the storms and the old ways of life.
She’s like deadweight in the bath, her head leaning back on the curved lip. She’s like a doll I can move however I want, and fuck, I’m done restraining myself. Holly may not fully understand what she’s gotten into with me, but before this night is over, she will.
I pick up one beautiful pale leg and drape it over the side of the tub. Then I lift the other and do the same. She’s completely open to me, a pink flower.
“Here?” she asks, her voice lazy.
I slide my hand down her stomach and cup her pussy. “Everywhere.”
Her sex accepts my fingers like they were made to hold me. I slide in and out, learning every square inch of her, pressing on that place that makes her breath catch.
