Seduced by Pain (6 page)

But, despite
all of his generous gifts, and the undeniable and strangely compelling new
attraction I felt for Blake, my heart still belonged to another.

I reached for
my phone, but Ocean's voice stopped me. "You're not calling him again, are
you?"

"What of
it?"

"Move on,
Rose. If he wants you, he needs to win you back. He's being a dick." She
sat with a makeup bag full of cosmetics as she prepped for her date that night.

"I'm the
enemy in this scenario, not him. I don't blame him for how he feels."

She puckered
her shiny red lips and kissed a napkin to even out the lipstick she'd just
applied. "I do. He knows you were acting in self-defense. He needs to grow
a pair and forgive you, or he doesn't deserve you. You don't have to grovel
anymore, Rose. You apologized. You didn't have all the information at the time.
Not your fault."

I changed the
subject, tired of this already. "Who's the lucky guy tonight?"

"Joe. But
it's a group thing. We're going to a show in Seattle, want to come?"

"Nah, too
kinky for me."

"Ha! Not
that kind of group thing, though that could be fun, too. You should come. It'll
be good for you to get out and have some fun."

The thought of
performing for a group of strangers all night sounded exhausting. Making small
talk. Pretending to be happy. No thanks. "I'm good here." I held up
my book and my glass of red wine. "All set. You go have fun. And be safe."

She kissed my
check. "Always. Oh, you weren't here when I got back, but something weird
happened today."

"Weird
how?" Ocean had some very lax ideas of weird, so if it hit her radar, then
I was worried.

"You're
not the only one with a new found lust for our faithful handyman. Your sister
threw herself at him in the hot tub."

A pang of
jealousy, so very unwanted, stirred in me. "He was in the hot tub with
her?"

She shook her
head, red curls bouncing to the motion. "No. It looked like she joined him
without invitation and tried to seduce him. He didn't touch her and was clearly
trying to get away when I arrived. He used me as an out, which I allowed, and
then he took off. But man, you could practically smell the sexual desire. What
the hell is up with him? Is he using some kind of new cologne that's chemically
engineered to drive women crazy?"

My heart
slowed back to normal, relieved that I didn't have to kill Blake for messing
with my underage sister. "I hope so, actually. It would make me feel
better to know that something outside of me is making me feel this way. The
alternative is that I'm just a fickle slut who wants every guy who looks her
way."

Ocean cocked
her hip, hand resting on the small of her waist. "First, even if that were
true, do you really think that makes you a slut?"

"Well,
doesn't it?"

"Between
the two of us, who gets more action?" she asked.

I felt this
going in a bad direction, but played along. "You, obviously."

"Do you
think I'm a slut?"

"Of
course, I don't, Ocean. You're just… " I flipped up my hands in
frustration, looking for the right word. "…you!"

"Exactly.
I'm me. I enjoy my sexuality in a safe and responsible way with consenting
adults. Would it be so bad for you to do the same?"

Yes. "Derek—"

"—is
an idiot. He has no claim on you." She swung her purse over her shoulder
and slipped into her two-inch heels, giving her the look of a ballerina on toe
shoes. "I say, get with Blake. See how far you can go. He's known you your
whole life, so if he's comfortable being a guinea pig while you get your powers
under control, let him. It'll be good for you."

I stared at
the phone still clutched in my hand and wondered what I should do.

Ocean frowned.
"Want me to cancel tonight and stay in with you?"

"No. I'm
not going to spoil your fun. Just drive safe; the weather doesn't look good."

"Will do.
Call me if you need me, okay?"

"I will.
Thanks, Ocean."

She left and I
sat alone in our cottage, willing my phone to ring, or beep, or do anything to
indicate that Derek hadn't forgotten all about me.

When it didn't,
I broke down and called again. If I was going to even think about trying to
move on, I needed to give Derek once last chance to talk me out of it.

The phone rang
and rang, and I nearly hung up, resigned to another voicemail message, when it
clicked.

"Hello?"
His voice, so deep and sexy and raw, shook me to my core, even through the
phone. It made my desire for Blake seem a sham, when with his voice alone,
Derek could send heat and ice pouring through my body.

"Derek,
hi. It's Rose. Can we talk?"

O, then, what
graces in my love do dwell, That he hath turn'd a heaven unto a hell!"

—William
Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

A LETHARGY OF
spirit weighed in on me as I meditated
in the rose garden and tried to pull out some meaning from the visions Dean had
sent me, but the chaos refused to sort itself out. Dark colors and misshapen
forms and hallowed out eyes played through my mind on repeat, like a terrifying
collage from a nightmare. Is that what Dean dreamed while his mind rested?

My cell phone
vibrated and, without thinking, I answered it.

Her voice,
soft, unsure, surprised, snaked its way into my heart. How could I speak to her
when I still didn't know what to do, what to say?

"Rose,
this isn't a good time."

An intake of
breath. "It's never a good time, but you can't avoid me forever, unless
this is it, we're really over?"

The question
mark at the end of her sentence lingered, begging me for a response. She didn't
deserve this. I was once again making her the victim in a game neither of us
had signed on to play, but I had to focus on my family right now. I didn't have
time to sort out my convoluted feelings for her, to figure out how to forgive
someone I felt guilty for being angry with in the first place.

But I couldn't
betray Dean by being with the woman who had hurt him, either. I'd never forgive
myself.

So I did the
hardest thing I'd ever done.

I let her go.

"It's
over, Rose. I'm sorry, but I never wanted to get serious with anyone,
especially not someone who's a part of the attacks on my family. I never
planned on staying in town anyways. You'll be better off without me. Please don't
call again. Goodbye."

I hung up
before she could reply, but not before her sob tore through me like shards of
glass.

I'd just lied
to the only woman I'd ever loved, and probably would ever love. I'd broken her
heart, and destroyed all chance of us being together.

The worst part
was that it wouldn't bring back Dean, but at least I didn't feel like a
traitor.

Just a
scoundrel.

I needed to
drown myself in whiskey and women and forget the name Rose once and for all,
before the longing for her destroyed me.

Merry and tragical! tedious and brief!
That is, hot ice
and wondrous strange snow.

—William
Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

Dear Diary,

Hope is a fragile thing, yet strangely enduring. It hides in the
crevices of pain, burrowing deep until unseen, for fear that sorrow, in its
rage, will devour hope's desperate hold on the heart.

It can live there for years, silent and waiting. Or, it can be
slaughtered with a word— mankind's most powerful weapon.

They say that universes are created with words.

And with words, they are destroyed.

Just as mine has been.

A BONE DEEP
chill woke me. Body stiff, phone still
clutched in hand, eyes so puffy I could barely open them, I pieced together the
afternoon.

Derek had
finally spoken to me, only to end things for good. I thought I knew we were
over, that I'd been ready for his words, but at his rejection something deep
inside of me broke, that place where secret hope lives.

Hours passed,
filled with tears and dark dreams, as I drifted between the pain of consciousness
and sleep.

Now my body
shook, not from sobs, but cold. Darkness gave my normally cheerful living room
a sinister edge, turning ordinary objects into the stuff of nightmares. I
reached for the lamp by the couch and flicked it on, but nothing happened.

With small
steps, using my hands and feet to guide me through the room I'd recently
rearranged, I found the light switch. It didn't work either. The power had to
be out.

Only then did
I hear the banging at the door and realize that nature had unleashed its own
pain on humanity.

I stubbed my
toe twice by the time I'd made it far enough to yank the door open.

Blake stood on
my porch, or what was left of my porch. The snow had built a wall around my
cottage, and Blake had used the shovel in his hand to burrow a way through to
me.

"You must
be freezing. Come in!"

He knocked his
boots together to shed excess snow and used the mat for the rest, then followed
me in and closed the door behind him, using his flashlight to give us light. "I
was about to let myself in and check on you after you didn't answer. Are you
okay?"

I reached for
the tangled mess of my hair and swiped at my eyes, which I'm sure looked as
swollen as lips recently injected with collagen. "Sorry. I was sleeping.
I… it's been a hard day."

The cold had
settled in my bones, and I shivered. "The weather turned pretty bad. I
hope Ocean's okay. Did everyone lose power?"