Claiming His Own. Olivia Gates

his victim into letting him in so he can suck her dry. Or for a more mundane metaphor, you look as if you’ve developed a cocaine habit.”

      She knew she was being cruel. But she couldn’t help it. He’d sprung back into her life after bitterness had swept away despondence and anger had cracked its floodgates. Feeling herself about to throw all her anguish to the wind and just drag him in after one kiss had brought the dam of resentment crashing down.

      “I’ve been...ill.”

      The reluctant way he said that, the way his eyes lowered and those thick, thick lashes touched his even more razor-sharp cheekbones made her heart overturn again in her chest.

      What if he’d been ill all this time...?

      No. She wasn’t doing what her mother had done with her father—making excuses for him until he destroyed her.

      He raised his gaze to her. “Aren’t you even curious to know why I left? Why I’m back?”

      Curious? Speculating on why he’d left had permanently eroded her sanity. Her brain was now expanding inside her head with the pressure of needing to know why he was back.

      Out loud she said, “No, I’m not. I made a deal with you from day one, demanding only two things from you. Honesty and respect. But you weren’t honest about having had enough of me, and you would have shown someone you’d picked off the street more respect.”

      He flinched as if she’d struck him but didn’t make any attempt to interrupt her.

      It only brought back more of memories of her anguish, injected more harshness into her words. “You evaded me as you would a stalker, when you knew that if you’d only confirmed that you were okay, I would have stopped calling. I did stop when your news made the confirmation for you, forcing me to believe the depth of your mistreatment. You’ve forfeited any right to my consideration. I don’t care why you left, why you ignored me, and I don’t have the least desire to know why you’re back.”

      His bleakness deepened with her every word. When he was sure her barrage was over, he exhaled raggedly. “None of what you just said has any basis in truth. And while you might never sanction my true reasons for behaving as I did, they were...overwhelming to me at the time. It’s a long story.” Before she could blurt out that she wasn’t interested in hearing it, he added, almost inaudibly, “Then I was...in an accident.”

      That silenced her. Outwardly. Inside, a cacophony of questions, anxiety and remorse exploded.

      When? How? What happened? Was he injured? How badly?

      Her eyes darted over him, feverishly inspecting him for damage. She saw nothing on his face, but maybe she was missing scars in the dimness. What about his body? That dark shroud might not obscure that he’d lost a lot of his previous bulk, but what if it was covering up something far more horrific?

      Unable to bear the questions, she grabbed his forearm and dragged him across the threshold, where the better lighting of her foyer made it possible for her to check him closely.

      Her heart squeezed painfully. God... He’d lost so much weight, looked so...unwell, gaunt, almost...frail.

      Suddenly he groaned and dropped down. Before fright could register, he rose again, scooping her up in his arms.

      It was a testament to his strength that, even in his diminished state, he could do so with seeming effortlessness, making her feel as he always had whenever he’d carried her: weightless, taken, coveted, cosseted. The blow of longing, the sense of homecoming when she’d despaired of ever seeing him again, was so overpowering it had her sagging in his hold, all tension and resistance gone.

      Her head rolled over his shoulder, her hands trembled in a cold tangle over his chest as all the times he’d had her in his arms like this flooded her memory. He’d always carried her, had told her he loved the feel of her filling his arms, relinquishing her weight and will to him, so he’d contain her, take her, wherever and however he would.

      He stopped at her family room. If she could have found her voice, she would have told him to keep going to her room, to not stop until they were flesh to flesh, ending the need for words, letting her lose herself in his possession, and even more, reassure herself about his every inch, check it out against what she remembered in obsessive detail, yearned for in perpetual craving.

      But he was setting her down on the couch, kneeling on the ground beside her, looking down at her as she lay back, unable to muster enough power to sit up. And that was before she saw something...enormous roiling in his eyes.

      Then he articulated it. “Can I see Leonid?”

      Everything in her, body and spirit, stiffened with shock.

      All she could say was, “Why?”

      She was asking in earnest. He’d told her he wouldn’t take any personal interest or part in Leo’s life. She could find no reason why he would want to see him now.

      His answer put into words what she’d just thought. “I know I said I wouldn’t have anything to do with him personally. But it wasn’t because I didn’t want to. It was because I thought I couldn’t and mustn’t.”

      The memory of those excruciating moments, when she’d accepted that he’d never be part of the radical change that would forever alter her life’s course, assailed her again with the immediacy of a fresh injury.

      “You said you’re not ‘a man to be trusted in such situations.’”

      A spasm seized his face. “You remember.”

      Instead of saying she remembered everything about him, as he claimed to about her, she exhaled. “That was kind of impossible to forget.”

      “I only said that because I believed it was in your and his best interest not to have me in your lives.”

      “Is the reason you believed that part of the...long story?”

      “The reason is the story. But before I go into it, will you please let me see Leonid?”

      God... He’d asked again. This was really happening. He was here and he wanted to see Leo. But if she let him, nothing would ever be the same again. She just knew it wouldn’t.

      She groped for any excuse to stop this from spiraling any further. “He’s asleep....”

      His eclipsed eyes darkened even more. “I promise I will just look at him, won’t disturb his sleep.”

      She tried again. “You won’t see much in the dark. And I can’t turn the lights on. It’s the only thing that wakes him up.”

      “Even if I can’t see him well, I will...feel him. I already know what he looks like.”

      Her heart lurched. Had she been right about this security report? “How do you know? Are you having us followed?”

      He stared at her for a moment as if he didn’t understand. “Why would you even think that?”

      Regarding him warily, she told him all her suspicions.

      His frown deepened with every word. “You have every right to believe the worst of me. But I never invaded your privacy. If I ever were to have you followed, it would be for your protection, not mine. And I had no reason to fear for your safety before, since associating with me would have been the only source of danger to you, and I kept our relationship a firm secret.”

      “So how do you know what Leo looks like?”

      “Because I followed you.”

      Her mouth dropped open. “You did? When?”

      He bit his lip, words seeming to hurt as he forced them out. “On and off. Mostly on for the past three months.”

      So she hadn’t been imagining it or going insane! All the times she’d felt him, he had been there!

      Questions and confusions deluged her. Why had he done that? Why had he slipped away the