Cherise Sinclair - My Liege of Dark Haven

Harold’s laugh boomed out as he and her mother chatted with the neighbors. The younger business associates had settled by the food, arguing about capital gains taxes. Having talked the band into something livelier, the teen set was dancing. At a nearby table, some women discussed day-care issues. The party was rolling along well.

And she missed Xavier with an ache that continued to grow.

In fact, she swore she heard his voice. Nice imagination you have, Abby. But… She tilted her head. That was his laugh, deep and resonant, coming from inside the house. Had Mom invited him after all?

Had he come to be with her? The surge of joy was almost frightening. Smiling, she started toward the patio door.

Janae stepped out. Her dark-red dress must have been sprayed on, and set off full breasts she hadn’t possessed a few years ago.

When Xavier followed her out, Janae turned and snuggled against him.

Abby’s breath caught in her throat.

Xavier said something, and Janae looked up at him with the same slow smile she’d used to conquer man after man. He laughed and walked with her across the patio.

He hadn’t even seen Abby. Hadn’t looked for her.

Abby couldn’t move. The pain was too much, spilling out onto the ground, and every beat of her mangled heart added to the pool. He didn’t come here for me. Janae had taken him away, just as she had every other man Abby had liked.

Even worse, they looked so comfortable together that Abby knew Xavier had been dating her. And fucking me. She blinked back tears until Janae flicked a glance over, and the gloating showed in her eyes.

Icy armor slid over Abby’s skin, settling in place as if it had never gone away. As if she’d never left herself open to being wounded. But the defense arrived too late. The pain was already lodged deep in her chest, pounding from inside against the barrier.

They would never, ever know how much they’d hurt her. She pulled in a breath and forced her hands to unclench.

Janae reached up to plant a kiss on Xavier’s lips and then walked with him over to her parents. With a shocked expression, her mother looked at Abby.

I’m going to be sick.

As Harold shook hands with Xavier, Janae sauntered over to Abby. “Did you see my eye candy?” Janae’s laugh was so loud and false that several people turned to look.

“Yes.” Insult after insult rose to the surface of her mind, and she pushed them down. Don’t start a fight. Be cold. Be ice. Abby took a step back.

Janae grabbed her arm. “You gonna run? Go hide?”

“I’m not interested in talking with you.” Abby tried to pull her arm away.

“Oh, did fat nerd-girl get her feelings hurt? Did you actually think he might be interested in you?” Another laugh. “Nathan—yes, your oh-so-kinky Nathan—told me Xavier’s habits are common knowledge. He keeps several women: a smart one for business. A gorgeous one to date. And a slave to fuck… Oh, that would be you.”

Nathan? Janae had sex with Nathan too? But the blow had little impact under the avalanche of pain.

Dixon had warned her Xavier wouldn’t be serious. She hadn’t listened. She’d lied to herself. She’d been a moron. But seeing him with Janae was intolerable.

She yanked her arm away, and Janae’s long fingernails tore her skin. Turning, she ran into something immovable. Hard. Xavier.

TRYING TO UNDERSTAND what he’d heard, Xavier caught his little sub as she stumbled.

When she looked up at him, her pale skin was the white of snow and her gray eyes frozen. She took a step back, shoving his hand away. “Don’t. Touch. Me.” Her smooth voice held no expression, no heat. She’d retreated from him before, but never like this.

“Abby,” he said. “This isn’t—”

“Red, Xavier. Red, red, red.” The cold mask of her face never changed as she used the safe word that ended a scene.

She turned and ran, and he could almost hear the ice shattering.

“Abby!”

Janae grabbed Xavier’s arm, holding him back. “You’re with me, remember?” Her smile grew.

Xavier stared down, seeing the vindictiveness in her eyes. “You’re her stepsister, aren’t you? And you set this up to hurt Abby. With her soft heart, I doubt she’s ever done anything to you.”

Janae’s face twisted. “You don’t—”

“No, I don’t. But I recognize a self-centered woman who hurts everyone around her.” He peeled away her hand like removing a slug from his shoe, strode through the house and out the front door.

“Can I help you, sir?” The valet hurried over.

“Abby. Has she—”

The uniformed man pointed toward red taillights speeding away. She must have parked near the door rather than in the lot.

Janae had set him up like a patsy, just to get her claws in Abby. And he’d fallen for it. Rage simmered in his guts, but guilt—and worry—overwhelmed it.

He hit speed dial on his phone, calling her cell. No answer. He left a message on it and then at her house. “I’m sorry, Abby. We need to talk. Call me.”

Although knowing she wouldn’t return to his house, he went there anyway. Hoping. He had to check. Yes, her clothing was still in the dresser.

Back out into the cold. How could I have screwed up so fatally?

She wasn’t at her duplex. As he stared at the blank windows, his jaw was so tight his teeth made grinding noises. Where was she? Driving? Hurt? She might be crying. Wouldn’t be careful. Could have an accident.

He called the emergency rooms. All of them. Called in a favor and had a friend check the police reports.

Nothing.

What the hell had he done? Last night she’d said she loved him. As if in answer, he’d taken her stepsister to her parents’ party.

He punched in another number. Simon said she hadn’t called.

She wasn’t at her office at the university.

Xavier drove to Dark Haven, where Lindsey’s number was in the files. Abby hadn’t called her. Wasn’t there.

How could he get her to believe he wanted to be with her? Only her.

What about her parents? Harold Edgerton’s number was listed. He punched it in. Grace called him several names, the nicest of which was slimy scumsucker, but finally admitted Abby wasn’t there.

Back to Mill Valley. He parked on the road and stared at the empty parking spot and the black windows. She hadn’t returned to her duplex.

He let his head fall back. Let his anger loose…

Goddamn motherfucking son of a bitch. If—when—he found her, he was going to turn her ass a rosy red, after he fucking apologized for a fucking eternity. He had been a fucking gullible idiot. Janae would regret hurting Abby—yes, she definitely would—but he was the one who’d done the damage.

He scrubbed his hands over his face and pulled in a breath. Pulled back his control.

He stuck a message to her door. Put more messages on every voice mail she owned. “Abby, I’m sorry. I love you. Call me.”

When he gave up and returned home, the house was too quiet. No Abby. No warmth. His world had been hollowed to emptiness in one night.

He’d ripped her heart out and stomped on it—that was how she must feel. The knowledge that he’d caused her such pain—even if he hadn’t intended to—sliced through him, leaving agony behind.

How could he fix this? He needed to fix it.

* * *

At the vista point at the end of Point Lobos, Abby watched the starlight on the Pacific Ocean. No moon at all. Waves broke over the rocky cliffs below, covering up the noise from the city. Lands End. It seemed the place to be right now. Ships had wrecked here off the rocky coast, unable to navigate the waters. Much like her attempt at a relationship.

Or maybe it hadn’t even been a relationship.

What was wrong with her that she wasn’t enough for a man? First Nathan, then Xavier. The damp air swirling up the cliffs chilled her tear-dampened face.

“I don’t get it,” she whispered to the dark trees. “He acted as if he liked me. He wanted me to live with him.” And stupid me, I fell in love with him.

But who wouldn’t? Along with that hard-edged domination, he was tender and loving and protective.

Janae had called her a slave, just someone for him to fuck. Abby rested her chin on her knees as her hair whipped around her face. If all he wanted was a slave, then why did he cook me breakfast yesterday? And hold me when I cried?

He’d said over and over that he didn’t want a slave. He wanted someone to talk with at supper, to trounce at billiards, and to play tag with in the swimming pool. He’d said he enjoyed arguing with her.

“I’m not a slave,” she muttered, feeling the familiar anger and frustration at her stepsister. The waves below slapped into the rocks. Her hand shook with the need to slap Janae’s face.

But violence wouldn’t change the truth.

Just like all her men, Xavier preferred Janae. I wasn’t even good enough to date. He’d never taken her anywhere. Not even to a movie.

She swiped her arm over her wet cheeks. He’d been loving and sweet last night…until she said she loved him.

“Give me a day to think,” he’d said. And then he took Janae out. To dance with. To introduce to his friends and be introduced in turn. To Mom and Harold’s party.

She’d done his introduction to Mom and Grace wrong. It should have been: “Mom, this is Janae’s date and my Master who keeps me around to fuck.”

Year after year Janae left her feeling inadequate. But she’d never felt like the dregs at the bottom of a teapot before. The mournful sound of a boat coming in wafted over the water. The air had cooled, and she was still in her gown. It would be stained from sitting on a rock. I never want to see it again.

I never want to see Xavier again.

As she stood, her stiff muscles ached, and she shivered, chilled inside and out. What should she do now? Her clothes were at his house.

Xavier would want to talk. If she didn’t return to his place, he’d show up at hers. He might not love her, but he never abandoned his responsibilities. He’d want to make sure she was all right.

Well, she wasn’t. And she didn’t particularly care what he thought.

Discedere ad inferos, my liege. Go to hell.

Xavier parked in front of Abby’s duplex. It was Wednesday, and her car wasn’t there. Still. He’d driven by several times a day—and night—and as far as he could tell she hadn’t returned home since the party last Saturday. Her summer classes had concluded as of last week. She wasn’t at the university. He’d stuck another note on her door.

At the volunteer center she’d called in and handed over her beloved literacy class to a different instructor for “a while.” He scrubbed his face, scowling at the scrape of stubble. He needed to shave.

He’d left messages everywhere.

But she was alive. The last time he’d called her parents’ home, her mother had informed him that Abby was fine, then hung up on him. That didn’t sound fine.

He closed his eyes. How could he make things right if he couldn’t find her? Talk with her? He huffed a laugh. He couldn’t even send her the old standby, flowers, to get his foot in the door.

With a sigh he turned his car around and headed home.

An SUV sat in his driveway, and his front door stood open. His spirits lifted like a wind had filled the sails. The car wasn’t Abby’s, but no one else had a key to his house. She was here. He started to pull in beside the vehicle.

No. “No more running, little fluff.” He parked his car directly behind the SUV, thwarting any chance of her escaping him.

Hopes rising, he strode up to the house.

Rona stepped out and almost dropped a suitcase at the sight of him. “Xavier.” Her face turned an interesting color of red.

“Are you robbing me, Rona?”

“I… We… I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Is Abby inside?”

After a second she regained her self-possession in the way that so delighted Simon. Her chin rose. “No, we’re not stealing from you, and Abby isn’t here.”

From her stubborn expression, she’d dispensed as much information as he would get. He heard someone pattering down the inside stairs and after a second realized they weren’t his little sub’s footsteps. She really wasn’t here. His optimism drained away, leaving him exhausted.