The Road to Redemption (46 page)

They held each
other as they cried, each in their own personal hell yet
inexplicably united through the shedding of tears.

When the
emotional storm finally eased, they both took a deep, shuddering
breath. Sam wiped her face on her sleeve and then shifted her
position so they lay facing each other. Damien’s lashes were spiky
from his tears, his eyes haunted. She wiped his face with her
fingers, the stubble on his jaw abrading her palm. “Can you tell me
about it? Did you have a bad dream?”

“No.” He shook
his head. “Not a dream… Or maybe it was. Maybe it was a dream that
lasted for years. All I know is that tonight…” He paused and seemed
to gather himself. “Tonight Beth and I said goodbye.”

“I don’t
understand.”

“She’s been
with me all this time. In my thoughts, my dreams. Sometimes I was
sure I could see her. But…” He blinked and swallowed hard. “She’s
not here, not anymore. She’s gone. Gone…somewhere. Some place I
can’t ever follow. She said she wants me to stay here. To live my
life, to…love.”

“I’m glad you
realize that.”

He studied her
face before rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. “I
was always sure her dying wish was that I never forget her.”

“I remember
you saying that.” She gave a sad smile, stroking one finger down
his arm, idly noting the dips and swells of his muscular form.

“I was wrong.”
He turned his head to look at her. “She wanted me to never forget
to love.”

“She sounds
like a very special person.”

He nodded.
“She was. Would you… Would you like to see her picture?”

“Okay.” Sam
wasn’t sure she wanted to see the woman that had owned Damien’s
heart for so long, but you couldn’t hide from facts.

Damien reached
over and took his wallet off the nightstand. Pushing himself up
into a sitting position he opened it up. Sam hitched herself up
beside him and looked at the photograph of a young woman with long
hair and a gentle smile. Pretty, but not stunning. Not until you
looked into her eyes. They were like pools of wisdom and empathy
that drew the viewer into their depth and touched the soul.

“She’s
beautiful.”

Damien stared
at the picture. “I loved her so much. A part of me will always love
her.”

Sam nodded,
trying to be strong and supportive despite the fact that his words
were like a knife to her heart. “That’s how it should be. You were
mates. She was an important part of your life.”

“Yes.” He
stared at the photo for a long moment. “Yes, she was.” His lips
moved, some silent message Sam couldn’t hear, and then slowly,
almost reluctantly, he closed the wallet and set it back on the
table.

Sam bit her
lip, not sure what to say. She felt like a voyeur to some private
intimate moment yet she couldn’t leave. Her future was with Damien
and she damned well had to make him see it.

Silence
stretched between them as she considered and discarded a dozen
ideas as to what to say. A band was playing in the bar below and
she could almost make out the words of a song; a ballad about the
futility of love. Hopefully it wasn’t a prediction of how this
meeting was going to end. She hadn’t travelled all the way to Stump
River to be rejected. Tina’s prophecy had said something about the
lovers’ hearts being like a phoenix, dying as the masks are torn
off. Well in mythology the phoenix always rose again, and she was
going to do her damnedest to make sure it happened here as
well.

“Sam?”

“Yes?”

Damien turned
to face her. His expression was uncharacteristically solemn. There
was no teasing quirk to his lips, no guardedness about his eyes.
She felt she could see into his soul; see the loneliness, the pain,
the vulnerability.

He, in turn,
seemed to be searching her face, noting her features one by one.
Ever so slowly, he reached out and brushed the back of his hand
over her cheek.

“Make love
with me? Please.”

Her heart
stilled, then began to beat heavily with hope…and fear. She didn’t
know why he was asking. If it was to fill the emptiness in his
soul, or because he wanted her. She hesitated, but the need she
heard in his voice had her ignoring her doubts. With a trembling
hand, she stroked his face.

“Yes.”

He turned and
kissed her palm, then slowly eased her down onto the bed. Gently,
he traced her features. She relaxed into the pillows, taking his
weight, cradling him to her.

Their kiss
began softly, lips barely touching, tentative, testing before
slowly deepening. She caressed his back. His tongue stroked hers,
lips sliding, teasing. His warm breath tickled her face as he moved
along her jaw line to her ear, then the sweet spot on her neck.

She explored
his shoulders, the dip of his spine, encountered the roughness of
denim and made a mild sound of protest. Damien left off nibbling on
her neck and sat up, popping the button of his pants and loosening
his zipper. Staring into her eyes, he did the same with her jeans,
a silent question in his look.

She
nodded.

Leaning
forward, he pushed her sweater up out of the way, exposing her
stomach and then pressed a kiss to her belly button. She shivered
at the feel of his warm, wet tongue, squirmed when he moved lower,
easing her jeans down, increasing his access. When he slid his
fingers under the waistband of her panties, she was sure her heart
would pound out of her chest.

The sound of
material rubbing against material seemed abnormally loud as he
removed her jeans. Damien remained silent, but in the dim light she
was sure she could see the approval in his gaze.

He caressed
her calf and kissed her knee before moving higher. Stroking her
thighs, he nibbled on her hipbone, then nuzzled the crease of her
thigh. She combed her fingers through his hair, cradling his head,
guiding him to where she needed him most.

When he
touched her, she bit her lip, barely able to hold back the cry of
pleasure that rose in her throat. Tenderly, skilfully he played
with her, bringing her to the brink and then pushing her over.

As she floated
back to reality, he stood and removed his clothing. In the dim
light, she marvelled at the beauty of his form as each inch was
revealed. Narrow hips, strong thighs dusted with hair. His need for
her was evident, proud and erect. When he approached the bed, she
had to sit up and touch him, to feel the hot silky skin that
encased his hardness, to stroke and bring him pleasure as he’d done
to her.

He closed his
eyes as she caressed him, gently rocking against her palm, a low
rumble of pleasure sounding in his chest. She swirled her tongue in
his belly button, traced the intriguing ‘V’ of his abdomen. Pressed
kisses, hot and wet to throbbing flesh. When he could stand it no
longer he took control again, pressing her back onto the
mattress.

Damien’s hands
were warm and rough as they kneaded her breasts, his mouth hot and
avid on her nipples, tugging, nipping. The tiny pain shot to her
core and she felt herself growing moister. Her body begging for his
possession. She wriggled under him, pulling at his hips, urging him
to take her.

He kneeled
over her, and when he stared down into her eyes, it was as if the
wolf in him was looming over her. Submitting did not come
naturally, yet this was not the time to be concerned about
dominance; tonight was for comforting, for sharing, for healing the
pain they both had inside. She parted her thighs, inviting him to
take her.

And he did.
Settling into place, he probed, found her opening and began to
slide inside. She trembled, holding her breath, focused on the
sensation of him easing into her, sliding deeper, filling the ache
within.

“I’m sorry
about last time.” He whispered the words as he penetrated her
flesh.

She shook her
head. “It was my idea.”

“But—”

She pressed a
silencing kiss to his lips.

He began to
move, sliding in and out again and again. It was exquisite torture,
the brushing of his hardness over her sensitive nub. Slowly at
first, then faster as the tension began to grow.

Their kiss
turned hard, his tongue possessing her mouth just as he possessed
her body.

She clutched
his back, holding on, her nails raking his flesh, her breath
becoming pants. The exquisite feeling inside her grew, her muscles
tightened unbearably until she was hovering in a place where only
feeling existed. Her vision blurred, her lips parted in a silent
shout of ecstasy and then, then she spiralled out of control.

Damien woke
the next morning, his body spooning Sam’s. His hand cupped her
breast and he idly stroked the smooth slope feeling completely
relaxed. He was awake but drifting, no particular thought in his
head. Unusual. Instant alertness was the norm for him.

Sam sighed in
her sleep, wriggled her body closer to his. Her short hair
feathered across the back of her neck and he could see glimpses of
her tattoo. Duty, strength… There was a new one there and he
released her breast, sliding his hand up to move her hair out of
the way, wondering what she’d decided the third quality of an Alpha
was.

Love.

He traced over
the word, frowning. Not what he would have expected.

Sam rolled
over, her features relaxed with sleep. “Morning.” Languidly, she
reached up and brushed his hair from his forehead. “Mmm… I haven’t
slept that well in ages.”

“Me, either.”
He smiled softly. She nestled her head against his chest, her
fingers splayed on his chest, slowly stroking, circling his
nipple.

Her attentions
were rousing his body. It had been three years since he’d woken up
with a woman in his arms. Three years since he’d held Beth. A
twinge of guilt stabbed his conscience. He must have made a sound
for Sam quit her teasing movements.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He
noticed the night stand with his wallet. Beth’s picture was there.
For the past three years, he’d greeted her each morning. Today, he
hadn’t.

Did she know?
Was she hurt?

No.

Beth had told
him it was time to move on. He compressed his lips, the memory
still fresh enough to cause a small wave of grief.

“Damien?” Sam
raised herself up on her elbow. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He
swallowed hard. Sam was watching him, concern in her eyes. “I see
you added your third tattoo.”

She
nodded.

“Why love? Why
not wisdom or integrity or…?”

“Well…” She
sat up and hugged her knees, staring thoughtfully across the room.
“Those are needed, but love is the most important. You can do your
duty but if you don’t love your pack you can become bitter and
resentful. And you need love to temper the strength so you aren’t
too harsh or dictatorial.”

“That makes
sense.” He sat up and pressed a kiss to her nape. “I’m glad you
were able to figure it out.”

“Thanks.” She
twisted to face him, a happy glow shining in her eyes. “I want you
to come back to Chicago with me.”

He blinked. He
hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Chicago?”

“Yes, Chicago.
That’s my home.” She didn’t add ‘duh’ but he could see it on her
face.

Chicago. Did
he want to go back there? To be part of a pack, to have to care
about people and have them depending on him to always be there? He
stalled for time. “In what capacity?”

A smile curved
her lips. She stroked his arm, watching her fingers travel its
length. “My Beta? My lover?” Her hand rested on his heart now and
she raised her eyes to his. “My…mate?”

Mate. The word
had him holding his breath. Beth was…had been…his mate. Taking
another had never entered his mind and yet… He hesitated. How do
you know when it’s time to let go? To move on?

His silence
must have unsettled her for she spoke in a rush, her eyes earnest,
intent. “If you’re worried about the infertility problem, I doubt
it will affect me. Since my father mated outside the pack, my genes
are more varied and we should be able to have as many pups as we
want.”

Pups. The word
sent a chill through him. He’d lost one child already. What if
something happened? The pain would be more than he could bear.

“Damien?” She
removed her hand from his chest. “Never mind.” She turned her face
away. “Apparently, I read more into last night than I should have.”
She climbed out of bed and began searching for her clothes.

He blinked and
pulled himself out of his introspection. “Sam, it’s not you…”

“Yeah. I know.
It’s Beth. You still love her and I can’t compare.” She tugged on
her jeans and pulled her sweater over her head. “It’s the story of
my life. You. My grandfather.”

“It’s not
about Beth.”

“Sure.” She
grabbed her boots. “I laid my heart on the line, Damien, and you
didn’t grab it. You snooze, you lose.”

“What?” He
pushed back the covers and swung his legs out of bed.

“Thanks for
last night. It was fun.”

“Sam, wait!”
He reached out to catch hold of her arm but she evaded him.

“Wait for
what?”

“For…” He
dragged his hand through his hair, his mind racing, not sure what
to say.

She arched one
brow, hands planted on her hips. When he didn’t continue, a flush
appeared on her cheekbones and temper sparked in her eye. “For
another screw? No thanks. I can get one of those any time I want.”
Her lip curled and she flicked a derisive look over his naked body
before shaking her head and turning away.

“It wasn’t
just screwing.”

“Could’ve
fooled me.” She glanced about the room as if looking for something
then gave a shrug and reached for the door.

“Sam!” His
heart rate began to quicken, a sick dread filling him as he
realized her intent.

She didn’t
respond. Not even a ‘fuck you’. The door slammed shut behind her,
leaving him to stare at the marred wooden surface. He could hear
her booted feet stomping down the stairs; she didn’t slow down or
hesitate even once.