Текст книги "Shards of Us"

Автор книги: K Caverly

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Chapter Two

"Did I upset you, angel?" Sebastian asks when I awake. My head rests on his well-muscled body, the kind of muscle you only get from years of hard labor. His body is like a furnace, and I realize I slept all night with my head on his stomach.

Sebastian is older than me. Two, three years, maybe. I don't know. And I'm not sure I care either.

He strokes my hair with his delicate fingers, kissing my head, and I close my eyes, taking him in. He smells the way men do: of cologne and alcohol, and it's nice on him. Fresh.

"What?" I ask, opening and closing my eyes as I fully awake.

His lips meet my forehead again. Slow and gentle, like he's kissing glass about to shatter. "Did last night upset you?" he repeats. His words are slow and quiet, like honey.

"Oh," I say. I'd already forgotten about last night. But am I upset? I don't even know. Sebastian has this way of making everything else go away, making everything better purely by touching me. It's dangerous, really, but I guess what we have isdangerous. That's the point. Our relationship should be toxic, but it's just… not. It's amazing. Beautiful. Nonsensical.

Perfect.

"I hope you know that I would never want to upset you, angel. Never," he whispers into my ear. "You don't know anything about me, sure, but that doesn't mean I'm here to hurt you. I'm not. Hurting you hurts me, don't you see? I can't do certain things for reasons I can't really say, but that doesn't mean… that this is wrong. What we have here is not a bad thing." His eyes are intense, passionate, as he drags his lips across my forehead, curing the ache in my body. "Nothing is bad when it comes to you."

Sebastian's voice is so raw and strong it takes me off guard. I sit up and lock eyes with him, see the fire in pupils. He cares about me, I realize then. Really cares about me. And no matter how fucked up our little setup is, I guess maybe, in a strange way, I care about him too.

The heater hums below us, creaking every once in a while as hot air is released. The sheets and covers are thrown off the bed, and it's just me and Sebastian lying next to each other, wearing nothing at all.

"Do you love me?" I say after a minute. The words come out of my mouth before I have time to stop them.

He seems a little surprised at the question, or at least as surprised as someone like Sebastian can be. "Why do you want to know?" he says. I don't meet his gaze, but I can tell he's looking down at me, still kissing my forehead slowly and softly.

"Just answer the question, Sebastian." Tears sting at my eyes once the realization strikes again: that there is no one left in this world that stills loves me. That I have no one, not even family, not even friends. I just have Sebastian. And as stupid as it sounds, I just… I want him to love me. I want somethingreal in my life. Whether I know anything about him or not, I need someone who will care about me, who doescare about me.

Finally, Sebastian sighs. "I've been through a lot. I'm not sure I know what love is anymore. I've done some things in my life. Bad things. The kind of things that change people, hurt people, and love was never there to rescue when I needed it most. So I don't really know how to love anymore, I guess. I just know how to survive."

There's a long pause. "But you care about me," I say slowly, relaxing at the feel of his body beneath mine. "Don't you?"

"Angel," he whispers, his voice as soft as the faint wind outside. He kisses the top of my head, then my nose, and then his lips find their way to mine. I breathe in slowly as he kisses me, as he expertly dances his tongue along my mouth. "I care about you more than anything else in the world," he whispers in between his kisses. "You are all I have left. All I need. I'm not sure if I can ever love again, but we don't need love, do we? We care so much about each other, are connected so deeply… isn't that what matters? Us?"

His lips are hot on mine, burning into me, and I let him kiss me, let his taste and his skin become one with mine. Sebastian feels good, so good, and I know from the bottom of my heart, whether or not it's love I feel for him, that I can't ever let him go.

That I can't ever lose the one person I have left.

"Yes," I whisper after a while. My voice is rigid, not as soft and smooth as Sebastian, but I don't even care as I kiss him back harder, faster. " Weare all that matters," I say in between breaths.

A satisfied smile spreads across his lips, and he wraps his arms around me, drawing me into his chest. "Come here, angel," he whispers into my ear. "Let me make you better."

And so we stay there for the longest time, kissing slowly, then fiercely, and holding each other, just holding each other, until the rest of the world fades away.

* * *

"Maybe he's a virgin," Ash calls after me the next day.

"Who?" I say. She lies on the leather couch in her tiny-as-mine apartment, eating potato chips and watching some pointless reality show while I grab some orange juice from the fridge.

She rolls her eyes. "Sebastian. Your fuck buddy who doesn't fuck."

I frown at her. Technically, Ash is my one friend, although we aren't reallyfriends. I don't especially connect with her, and she doesn't connect with me, either. We work the same shift at Starbucks, and we just hang out because we both know I have nowhere else to be. "What makes you think that?" I follow her into her living room and collapse beside her on the couch.

"For starters, the fact that he asks you to get totally naked but doesn't finish the job."

"So?" I say. I don't understand. Then again, I don't really like anyone else talking about Sebastian– mySebastian–especially not negatively like this.

She sighs. " So, how do you know he is safe? He could be, like, luring you in, only to murder you and leave you on the side of the road in a few weeks, and then you'll be all over the news. People do that shit, you know," she says to me like she has any idea what she's talking about.

I take a sip of my orange juice. "All right, fine. If you see me dead on the side of the road in a few weeks, you can consider yourself right."

She smiles. "I'm being serious, you bitch."

Cool air slips in through the windows, making me shiver. Ash's living room is small and cramped, holding no more than a single couch, a tiny TV, and a chair shoved in the corner of the room. "And so am I. But Sebastian wouldn't do that. He's not that kind of guy," I say, not doubting my words for a second. I trust Sebastian. I really do. Smart or not, I know he was telling the truth when he said he'd never hurt me.

She sits up, watching me closely. "Why do you think that? Do you even know anything about him?"

I look at my feet to hide the blush creeping into my cheeks. "No."

"So how can you even trust him? All you know is his first name, if Sebastian is even his real name, right?" Her nasal voice is filled with concern.

"And I know his parents are dead," I say quietly. "And so is everyone he cares about."

"Ah yes, his alcoholic family story. Drinking themselves into the ground. Sounds kind of cliché, yes?" Ash shifts closer to me so that her side is touching mine, her eyes full of concern. "Look, Crystal, I know you trust him, but–"

"But what?" I say, maybe too defensively. I know Sebastian isn't lying about having no one, like me. I don't know how, but I know. Sebastian is as broken as I am, pieces of what is left of the person he was. I don't know what happened to him exactly, and I don't care. I just care that he needs me, and I need him back, and the rest can go to hell.

Ash pushes her long blonde hair out of her eyes. "But don't let yourself get too close," she says quietly. "Just in case."

I sigh. "Thanks for the concern, but I trust him. I really do." I look away. "He isn't going to hurt me," I add in a voice that is so quiet it doesn't even feel like mine.

"That's good. All I'm saying is to be careful, okay? I'm your friend, Crystal, whether you like it or not. I don't want to see you get hurt. Or worse..." She trails off.

There's a long pause after that. We both just sit there, on the sofa, listening to the sound of the TV in front of us playing reality shows or whatever, but somehow it feels far-off. I can only think of Sebastian, his touch, the gruff tenderness in his voice as he calls me his angel. I think about what it would be like if we went all the way, if rule number one never existed and whatever is keeping him from fucking me could be gone, and he could be inside of me, really inside of me. It wouldn't be my first time having sex–I've had a lot of hookups in the last two years, but they've never succeeded in getting rid of the raw ache in the pit of my stomach. But Sebastian… Sebastian feels so right, that I can't even imagine him not making the ache go away, the everything but each other disappear.

I'm infatuated with a man I don't even know, and whether I like it or not, he's all I really have left in this world.

"Do you ever wonder about him? About who he really is?" Ash asks for a minute. Her voice is quiet, curious.

I don't hesitate. "Yes," I say, meeting her gaze. "Always."

"And what if you… what if you did know?" She narrows her eyes at me. "Would that make you feel better about this whole thing? I know it would make me feel better."

I pause. Would it really help? I'm fine with not knowing, fine with our perfect setup, but sometimes I think one night a week is not enough. I need Sebastian more than that. I need the real him. And I need him everywhere, all the time. I want to know who he is, I really do. He's the first bright spot in my life since the murder, and maybe I do need to find out more about who he is. He means to me what dancing used to. He's an escape, something that makes my heart beat faster and my body and mind and heart feel connected, something beautiful and heart wrenching and elegant and inexplicable. Something that never fails to cure me. "Yes," I say. "It would help."

A small smile flickers across her lips. "Good. Because I have an idea."

I frown. "Yes?"

The smile expands into a broad, toothy grin. "What if one night, when you leave the hotel in the morning… what if Ifollow him for you?"

The blood in my head starts pounding. "What?" I say, almost angry.

Her grin grows into a full-on beam. "Like the shit they do in movies. I'll follow him. See where he goes. Find out who he is. He doesn't know me, so he wouldn't even notice, or be able to connect me back to you."

"This isn't a good idea," I say, shaking my head. My stomach is throbbing now. "No, no, no," I say again, more defiantly. "This isn't going to end well."

"C'mon," Ash says. "What's the harm?"

"He seems dangerous," I say. "And we don't know what he'd do if–"

She cuts me off. "You said yourself he wouldn't hurt you, right?"

"Yes," I say slowly. My hand has started trembling. This is a bad idea. Bad. Bad bad bad. Every part of me knows it then, every inch of my mind, every bit of what's left of my sanity. I don't know who Sebastian is. I know he won't hurt me, but he could be dangerous to others. He could hurt Ash if he catches her. Or worse.

But a small part of me, a really stupid, small part of me, is too curious. I want to know who this man is. I want to know the person behind the Sebastian who makes my heart flutter and my insides feel mine again. I want to know who the man who has brought me back into reality is, and I want to understand him, to be with him, to reallybe with him.

"So he has no reason to hurt me, either," Ash says proudly, like she already knows she's won.

"But–" I protest.

"No buts. This is happening. Unless you tell me you honestly don't want to know who he is right this second. But you want to know," she says, inching closer to me, her smile growing. "Right?"

I drop my head into my lap, defeated. "Yes," I whisper, hating myself for it.

"Good," Ash says, standing up. "We'll plan this later." Then she starts walking out of the room, leaving me in nothing but silence and cool air and the hum of the TV in front of me. My stomach hurts and I want nothing more than to run after her and tell her no, let's not do this, but a part of me knows she's right. I want to know who Sebastian is too much. I want himtoo much. So I just sit there, shaking, like a pathetic waste of space just as I'd done after I learned my parents had been shot.

"I really think this is a bad idea," I finally whisper out, but she's already gone.

If only I'd listened to my instincts.

* * *

The next week is painfully slow. I spend my days going to my job at Starbucks, talking to Ash, eating, sleeping, and then repeating it all over again.

That's what my life has become: a never-ending repetition. I'm just living to get over the next day, and then the next day, and then the next day, until it's Wednesday and I'm with Sebastian again. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have him to look forward to. I don't know how I'd manage to keep going.

So as the week goes on, all I can think about is Sebastian and when I get to see him again. I think about what he's going to do for me next time, what he's going to say, how he's going to alleviate the pain in my heart that hasn't left since my parents died and I lost my one true passion in dance. I wonder how he's going to touch me, kiss me, hold me. I wonder what he's going to say. And then, just like that, I wonder about his laugh. He doesn't laugh much, which is unfortunate, because when he does, it's the most beautiful sound in the world. All thick and masculine, but genuine too. Warm, almost. Sebastian isn't exactly a warm person, but his laugh is. It's like his laugh doesn't even belong to him, or maybe it's a window, a look into a warm and scared and tortured soul he's kept hidden for so long that maybe he doesn't even remember it exists. I don't know. But one thing is for sure: his life has been worse than just losing his parents. I know, from the hurt that never seems to leave his eyes, that he's been through a lot. I know he wants to love me, wants to fix me like I want to fix him, but he can't.

I just know these things about Sebastian. I don't know why or how.

The rest of the week drags on until finally, it's Wednesday night. I wear a black dress as I enter Hotel de Galaxias, and my heart pounds as soon as I step inside. Music sounds throughout the lobby, and well-dressed business people laugh and dance and sing, happy in their own little worlds. I keep my head down like always, and I walk all the way up to room 364 in my heels, knock twice, and then enter when a deep voice coos, "Come in, my angel."

I smile as soon as I lock eyes on Sebastian. The room is bright this time, all of the overhead lights turned on, and I can make out everything about Sebastian tonight. I notice the way he runs his hand through his wavy dark hair, notice the little dimples at the corners of his mouth, notice the deep tan on his skin from years of… whatever job he does. He smiles when he sees me in the ball gown I decided to wear, adjusts his suit, and steps forward. He touches a finger to the skin beneath my lips slowly, softly, and then he leans in and kisses me. His kiss is slow and meaningful. My lips feel hot and electric, and my body buzzes with the same energy I get whenever Sebastian touches me.

"You came," he whispers as soon as he pulls back, but his lips hover there, in front of mine, as if begging to be kissed more.

I resist the urge to wrap my arms around him and kiss him harder, fiercer. Sebastian has this way of teasing me, nipping at my lips and chest and skin and leaving me wanting so much more. He says it's his way of keeping me on my toes, and holy hell does it work. All I can think about is the next moment we're kissing, or touching, or our clothes are off and he goes inside of me.

"Always," I say. My lips are still tingling as I close the door behind me and step fully inside.

The chandeliers hanging from the ceiling above twinkle in the light, and a soft melody plays from a speaker in the corner of the room, sounding like a kind of lullaby. The whole suite is rich and expensive, polished and smelling of fresh clean, and it's magical, really, dark and haunting and magical, to be here with him. It's an addiction, this room, this night, this man. It's an addiction and I don't want to stop.

Slowly, Sebastian makes his way over to the dresser, where two red wine glasses sit, picks them up, and then takes a seat at the edge of our bed. He pats the space beside him, motioning for me to join him. I obey.

"Today, I want to tell you a story," he says as I sit down. Sebastian's voice is rough and soft all at once, and it sounds so nice that if it were a song, I would play it on repeat. "Come into my arms," he says, and I do. I sit on the edge of his thigh and let him wrap his arms around me. He shifts me to the right so that I'm in his lap, and his arms are across my stomach. Sebastian's body is so hot against mine, and I let myself relax in his arms, pooling away in the strength in security his presence brings.

He rests his chin on my shoulder, whispering, "I'm so glad you're here," into my ear, and then he kisses me softly at the end of my earlobes, nipping at my skin, and it feels so, so right. My body tingles in anticipation of where he might kiss next.

"Do you like that, angel?" he whispers, his tongue moving along my earlobe.

"Yes," I say in between breaths, wanting nothing more than for him to drag his lips down to my mouth, then my breasts, and then lower still.

He smiles, but stops kissing me. "Good," he whispers. "Now are you ready for my story?"

"Always, Sebastian," I whisper, closing my eyes and savoring his touch, the feel of him beside me. His breath is warm and soft, and I can feel the curl of his lips as he smiles, his mouth still so close to my ear.

"Once upon a time, there was a boy." Sebastian's voice is rough in my ear, rough and sexy, and I have to close my eyes, listening to him, letting everything else fade away. "His alcoholic dad beat him when he was only ten and his mom was too cocaine-addicted to do anything about it. He had a brother, too. A little brother, who was only eight at the time, and soon his dad started beating the little brother too. But the boy knew his brother was too young to take it, and so he stood in front of his brother to keep him safe." His voice quiets with each word, dragging them out slowly. His eyes focus sadly on the empty wall in front of him, and suddenly I realize this story is more than just fiction. "The father was enraged by this, and so he took to hitting the boy extra hard, and the boy sucked it all up to save his brother, to keep his brother alive. But then one day, it became too much." My heart starts beating faster. "And the boy… well, the boy died at the hands of his father. The beating became so much that the boy's body couldn't take it. It wasn't until the father realized what he'd done that he started sobbing, trying to save his son, but it was too late. And then he took his own life out of pure desperation, and the little brother who the boy saved was shaking and scared, and he didn't know what to do, so he ran. He left the boy who had saved him, left his mother, left his family. The brother was a coward, but he just didn't know what to do. He ran and ran until a woman he didn't know found him by a pair of dumpsters and took him in as her own son, as she couldn't have one of her own. For ten years she cared for him, loved him, and nurtured him. She homeschooled instead of enrolling him in school, gave him lessons on how to defend himself and how to treat woman and how to make it in the world. And then when he turned eighteen, he left to find a job elsewhere, telling the woman who raised him he'd return soon. But he lied, because he never spoke to the woman again. He always had a way of leaving the people he cared about." Sebastian sighs. His eyes are distant, and he is the closest I've ever seen him to crying. "That brother was me, angel," he says quietly. "I don't have anyone left. Anyone," he whispers into my ear, "but you."

I stiffen up at the tenderness in his words. It takes me a minute to realize that Sebastian just opened up to me–like, reallyopened up to me. For the first time. Ever. The only time I'd ever opened up to him was to tell him about my parents, and my suicide, and my loss of my dance career, and that's all he knows about me.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly, not knowing what else to tell him. Then, I look up to meet his eyes. They look fragile and strong all at once, a fierce blue holding back a deep secret.

"Don't be," he whispers. "Don't ever be sorry." He starts kissing me again, holding me close and letting his warmth wrap around me as he kisses my nose, then my cheek, then, suddenly, my lips. The tension in my body relaxes at his kiss, and I close my eyes and kiss him back, fierce and passionate, moving my body onto his, my breasts against his chest.

I need Sebastian like I need to breathe. I need his kiss to heal me. And he needs me back.

That's the thing about our relationship: we're just there for each other. No questions asked. No worries needed. No drama. No nothing but each other and our feelings and our broken pasts.

"Sebastian?" I ask as he starts nipping at the bottom of my mouth with his lips, sending a wave of tingles throughout my body.

He stops kissing me, but he keeps his lips on mine. "Yes?" he breathes.

I hesitate. "Why did you never talk to the woman again?"

He doesn't answer right away. Just looks away, his stomach heaving, his eyes on the snow-covered window. His face looks distant, and I know he's in deep thought, remembering all everyone did for him and all he left behind. For a while, I just let myself enjoy his warmth, the coziness of his presence, listening to each of his steady breaths, feeling his stomach move up and down and up and down beneath me. I could fall asleep here if I wanted to, I realize. I could stay here forever. I could spend eternity in Sebastian's arms, and I would never be hurt again. He would protect me; he would save me.

My heart aches for him, like physically aches, and all I want to do is to put my lips back on his, to kiss him until everything is okay again. I want to save Sebastian like he saves me.

"Rule number two, angel," he says at last. "No personal questions." He sighs. "Now kiss me to make the pain go away."

I nod, and then our lips lock, and I feel nothing but the tingling in my skin and the numb pleasure of kissing him all night long.