Page 13 of Vow of Vengeance (Destruction & Vengeance Duet #2)

eleven

Declan

I've given her as much space as I can tolerate, which is to say that I'm trying.

I'm not succeeding. But then, I don't trust her right now.

I did what I set out to do, and I destroyed her.

Maybe more than she was destroyed before I ever met her.

And now it's my responsibility to fix everything, to put her back together better than before, to take all of her broken pieces and make a mosaic of her.

This is the daunting part... the part I've never done. It's easy to break someone down, even when you're not trying. But how do you put them back together?

You love them through it .

It sounds so simple, but I've never done it.

I tried to love my mother through her cancer, but I don't think I got it right.

I was too focused on trying everything I could to save her to try and help her appreciate her final moments on Earth.

Pretty sure I fucked that up with my mother, considering in the end, I failed anyway.

She died, leaving me with nothing but anger, resentment, and the hollow feeling every time I glanced at the numbers in my bank account.

It's been weeks since I made Soren watch those videos of her husband raping other women.

She retreated into herself, disappearing in her mind so that nothing I did could lure her out.

I would have kept her there, in the prison of my company, if I could have.

But Dimitri gave me a courtesy call to let me know he was on his way back, having secured both of the missing girls.

I didn't want to be there when he returned. Moreover, I didn't want Soren there when he returned. Letting me have free reign of their space was nice, but I don't yet trust any of them. I sure as hell don't trust them with the most precious thing in my life.

My cock aches from abstaining so long, desperate for her. My hand has been my only friend as she dodges my advances, and after what we witnessed, I can't bring myself to put my dick near her when she doesn't want me. I just have to make her want me.

She's shown up to work sporadically, no longer holding fast to the illusion of perfection she put on before.

Some days her hair is loose and messy, and I want to run my fingers through it while I fuck her on my desk.

Other days, she comes in with a coffee stain on her dress because she spilled it on her way in.

Some days, she doesn't come in at all, not granting me the courtesy of a call to let me know that she's feeling unwell.

It's on the fourth time that she does that, the second in a row, as I'm watching the rest of them tittering about that I grab my keys and decide enough is enough.

I've watched her from the cameras I had installed in all the time we've been apart, ensuring she's been safe.

She hasn't done a whole lot... anyone who watched her would probably conclude she's depressed, stuck in her own head.

But she brought color back into my world, so now I will do the same for her.

My calls go unanswered on the way over, and she doesn't answer when I knock.

It was only a courtesy warning anyway. She doesn't stir from the couch, where she's wrapped up in a blanket.

I slide my key into the lock and let myself in, taking note of the things I didn't notice on the surveillance cameras.

Her facade is well and truly shattered.

The kitchen is no longer pristine— coffee mugs litter the countertop, and a bottle of creamer sits next to the sink with a ring around it from a spill she didn't yet clean.

Only Soren would still consume coffee like a caffeine addict and then return to the throes of her depression.

I wonder if caffeine even has an effect on her anymore.

I skirt the mess of shoes and clothing that litter the floor, where she's been kicking her shoes off and peeling her clothing from her body when she gets home.

It leads a trail to the couch, where I find her with the blanket pulled over her head.

The TV is off, and the remote is on the other side of the room. Her phone lays facedown on the ground.

"Come out, come out, little bird." I cajole, trying to get her to greet me of her own volition. She doesn't budge, not even making a sound of irritation with me.

"Ren..." I pull the blanket from her face, and she recoils like a vampire in the light that filters in. "It's time to rejoin the world."

"No." She groans, shaking her head. I haven't yet gotten a look at her face, as it's covered by messy strands of her dark hair. I blow on it gently, teasing back the strands so that I can see her properly.

Dark circles highlight the gaunt look of her cheeks, and her eyes are flat. She's a beautiful disaster, and I can't help smiling.

"Hey there, little bird." She grunts her dissent, but it's gonna take a lot more than that to deter me. "The world misses you. Time to come back out, baby."

She blinks at me, her eyebrows pulling together a little with confusion.

"The world will get on just fine without me."

"Lie." I huff. "That fucking paper I bought is in shambles. I don't know how to edit a newspaper. I thought print media was dying?"

"You would think that." She glares at me. "Do you even read?"

"I read the article you wrote." I shrug. "You have such a way with words."

That gets me a roll of her eyes, which feels like a beautiful gift after weeks of her stone-facing me in the office, ignoring my texts, dodging my questions. My patience has astonished me.

"Come on." I reach a hand out and push to standing, waiting for her to take it.

"I don't want to go anywhere. It's too bright out there."

"Lucky for you, we're not going out there yet." I laugh. "You need a shower. You smell like... coffee and despair."

"I am coffee and despair." She snaps back, letting her head fall back onto the couch again.

"You can take my hand and get up on your own, or I can drag you to the bathroom and bathe you myself."

"Declan," she groans, irritation thick in her voice. "Just leave me alone."

"Not a chance." I chuckle, throwing the rest of the blanket off of her to reveal that she's in sweats.

I scoop her into my arms as she tries to push me away, not taking my ultimatum seriously.

She's been marinating like this, as far as I can tell, since she left work Wednesday.

Put plainly, she stinks. And yet, feeling her small body conform to mine, my cock tightens with desire.

I know where the bathroom is— I stood outside it the first night when I watched her pleasure herself in the bathtub. I started the shower for her when I brought her home from her doctor’s appointment. But she needs more than a shower— a change of clothes, to brush her teeth.

I take the stairs, ignoring her brooding all along the way.

Her room looks exactly the way it did when I was last in it.

The mess that she's made of her living room seems contained to the downstairs, but after a minute, I realize it's just because she hasn't slept in here at all.

I think she's just grabbed clothes as needed.

It explains why her laundry basket is just a pile on the floor.

She stiffens as I take it all in, and tenses further when I move toward the bathroom.

"No!" She gasps, trying to push out of my grip as I flip the light switch.

By her reaction, I'm expecting to find someone chained to the plumbing under her sink, but the light flicks on only to illuminate a well-kept bathroom. I came in here to get stuff to bandage her feet before we went to Costa Rica, but I didn’t look around then. Now, I do.

It's a nice bathroom— possibly the most ornate room in the house. There's a large freestanding tub against one wall, with a chandelier set above it. Pillar candles surround the base of it, surely for romantic vibes. There's even a damn TV on the wall.

"Not here." Soren says, her voice quiet and low. I think it even shakes a little as she looks at the bathtub like she's seeing something different than what I'm seeing. "Declan, please."

She doesn't have to ask again. I flip the light off and shut the door tightly behind me, hoping to trap whatever bad memory or energy she felt.

I grab a robe off the back of her door instead and take her back to the other bathroom.

This one, no surprise, has been used. The same disorder from the living space extends to her downstairs bathroom, but at least I know she's bothered with brushing her teeth since we've been home.

I set her on her feet, and she grips the counter for support, whether because she's still rattled by something or because she's been neglecting to take care of herself.

It only takes a second to turn the water on, and then I give it a minute for the stream to heat.

I use the opportunity to grab her sweatshirt by the hem and lift, pulling it over her head.

She raises her arms to assist me, but stares ruefully at me the whole time.

Her perky breasts nearly distract me from the mission when I free them from her top, but I don't let myself taste her no matter how my mouth waters with the need to run my tongue over her nipples.

Instead, I barely brush against them as I peel my shirt over my head too, pressing against her so that I can plant my lips overtop her collarbone.

It's still too sharp for my liking, but I think she may have filled out just a little since we first met.

She's been eating. I can't imagine what, given that her kitchen seems to be exclusively a shrine to the coffee gods, but I don't care if she's eating coffee grounds or rabbit food. .. it's serving her well.

"I'm addicted to you, Soren." I tell her, trailing my kiss from her collarbone down.

I skate around the globe of her breast, noticing the way her breath quickens as I go, running my fingers over opposite sides of her soft stomach and my lips down the center.

I stop with my hands on her hips and look up at her, a goddess lit by the glow of the sunlight filtering through the window and the steam from the shower curling behind her.

"You're a drug I can never get enough of."

"Declan— "

It sounds like the beginning of a protest, but as I strip her pants down her legs, taking note that she's not wearing any panties, her protests die on her lips.

Her breaths turn heavy as I plant deliberate kisses along her mound, gripping her leg and spreading her wide for me.

She gasps and quickly grabs ahold of me, gripping my hair so that she can use me for leverage as I devour her.

I start with small lashes against her clit, breathing her in every time she exhales a shaky breath of building desire.

I'm slow, taking my time, making a meal of her. I savor her taste, her sighs, every little moan and gasp. Our previous experiences have been like someone lit a stick of dynamite. This is gentle, teasing, vulnerable. This isn't lust or obsession; this is adoration.

She's already wet by the time my tongue dips low enough to trail her slit, and she collapses over me, unable to hold onto the pleasure.

"Declan!" She moans.

And all at once, I realize I had the wrong goal all along. I wanted her to scream my name, but hearing her moan it is another pleasure entirely. It sinks to my cock, which strains against my slacks, desperate for her warmth. But I don't want to stop pulling the sounds from her that she's making.

Her body surrenders to me wholly, and I'm convinced that I'm the only thing keeping her up as she breathes her jagged breaths against my neck.

She turns the bathroom into an opera house, and it's a one woman show, a symphony of moans and a beautiful, desperate keening when I persist, taking her between orgasms.

I almost expect the water to be cold by the time we eventually get to step under it; I'm lightheaded with the steam fogging everything up, unable to breathe. But I don't need oxygen. I need her surrender.

I lose track of the words she's saying, unable to focus on anything other than feasting upon her.

I'm a man possessed, high on her pleasure.

I don't think I would stop if it weren't for the way she digs her nails into my back so suddenly, drawing me out of whatever spell she cast upon me.

When I look up, it's to find her covered in a thin sheen of sweat, her cheeks red and her eyes desperate.

"Too much," she pants, her breasts heaving with exhausted breaths. "Can't... come... again."

I haven't been keeping track of her orgasms, but I want to beg her for one more. I open my mouth to do it, but the look of utter exhaustion on her face tells me she probably can't handle another. She looks to be literally on the verge of collapse.

I place a kiss against her swollen pussy instead, making her jump against me, and reluctantly stand.

For a moment, she just rests against me, like she can't stand on her own yet.

And I let her, breathing her in with her taste still on my tongue, trailing circles with my thumb over her skin, enjoying the feel of our bodies pressed together.

I reach around the shower and kill some of the heat, holding her until some of the steam evaporates from the air and she is able to straighten, pulling back to get a good look at me.

There's something she wants to say; I can see it on the tip of her tongue. But she doesn't open her mouth, settling for a smile.

Soren's quick to step into the shower, and I think she's trying to escape until she holds out a hand for me, inviting me in.