Silent Scars (Surviving #4) (23 page)

I glanced between them. I pleaded with my eyes that Will leave us alone. I knew their relationship had taken a huge turn, but I was selfish enough to want to keep Ryan in
my
space. The gates had finally been unlocked, and I was walking through. Ryan was mine, and I was keeping him.

When Will left us alone, Aloura closed the door and turned to fix hopeful eyes on me. I knew I’d started something I couldn’t take back, but listening to them talking, confessing shit to each other. Will doubting himself because of
me
. I couldn’t stand to be the cause of his pain. How could he even begin to feel that way? He was
my
hero. He was around to pick up the pieces. When Jo needed someone, he was there. I wasn’t.

“Where did you go?” Her voice was so weak and carried note of fear.

“I called someone I used to meet.”

“Someone?”

“A prostitute, a whore. I needed to fuck you out of my system,” I replied bluntly. The coldness of my tone was at war with the heat in my heart, a warmth I couldn’t deny she started. I was burning alive for her. Her gorgeous eyes dimmed before she dipped her chin and closed them. I gritted my teeth, waiting for the explosion, the tantrum of female rage. But nothing came.

“I understand.”.” Painfully slow I watched her walk away from me. I clenched my jaw so tightly it ached. I sucked in a breath and stared at the space she disappeared through. Will said it would work, but fuck, he never said the pain would be unbearable when it did. He said I should give her everything, push her away. I knew the consequences of opening up the Pandora’s box of shit inside my head. But I wasn’t prepared for how it would feel when she went away.

I forced my gaze from the empty doorway. I staggered to the couch and slumped down. My chest hurt with each breath. My shoulders jerked when I felt her in the room again. I turned my head to see her coming slowly towards me. She fisted her hands at her sides as she stood next to my legs. I tried to portray a calm I didn't feel. I kept my legs on the coffee table. She was so close her knee was brushing against my calf. With a shaky hand she reached up and pulled off her glasses and gently placed them on the table.

“Did it work? Am I out of your system?” Her voice was so quiet. “Because I can’t lie and say it doesn’t hurt you would use another woman to be rid of me. I hate the thought of her touching you.” Her voice cracked, and even though I had caused it, I fucking hated it.

I scrubbed my hands over my head, pulling at the sides of my cap. Did I lie? Or offer her the blunt truth. God, I had never felt like such a fucking coward in all my life. Will was right this was utter bullshit.

“Truth?” I asked hoarsely.

She dipped her chin, and her hands trembled by her sides. Knowing I had the power to cause this precious jewel so much pain, terrified me. For a moment I was certain she would shake her head, but like the strong determined woman she was, she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin in the air, and bobbed her head. She was fucking amazing.

“The only women I ever take to bed are paid for. It’s all I’m worth.” I watched her valiantly try to hide the tumult of emotions but her beautiful face was etched in pain. “I called someone I have used before. She’s discreet and easy to be with. She knows what I want, how to give it and never questions me. She provides a service, nothing more.”

Aloura grimaced, and her slender arms wrapped around her waist, hugging herself.

“I got in my truck and headed to our meeting point.”

“It’s okay. I thought I could, but I can’t hear anymore,” she choked, taking a step back. I leaned forward on the couch and held eye contact with her. I reached out and grasped the fabric of her pants, holding onto her. Keeping her grounded to me.

“I drove away from you, to go to her. I got as far as the main gates and had to get out of the truck because I thought I would throw up. I can’t get you out of my head, Aloura, so the thought of touching another woman sickens me. I fuck because my body craves it, but it repulses me. I meet them, let my dick do what I have to, pay and leave. I’ve never had a random hook up in a bar. My one and only girlfriend was paid to fuck me, so I followed a pattern. After I was discharged from the hospital, I couldn’t do it. My head wasn’t the only fucked up thing. I was broken, completely. No longer a real man.” She stared at me with tears glistening in her eyes. Anger boiled inside me. I didn’t need her pity. I needed her to realise I wasn’t the man for her. “My dick stopped fucking working. I haven’t had sex in two years. All you have to do is breathe, and I'm as stiff as a fucking board.”

A gentle giggle drifted in the air.

“So you think
not
having sex in the last two years would be a turn off?” She glanced around the room, an amused look of awe on her face. “Wow, you really are a little bit daft.”

I gawped at her. No way, out of all that, did she just make a joke?

“I can’t bring myself to want anyone but you. But that doesn’t mean I should touch you either.”

She stepped forward, a hesitant smile on her lips before she sank down on the couch, straddling my lap.

What the fuck?

“It didn't work.”

“What?” I choked as she settled the most perfect ass on my dick. This was definitely
not
the time for the fucking thing to get excited.

“I assume that little speech was intended to scare me away.”.” She cocked her eyebrow, and two chocolate button eyes dared me to argue.

“It was all true. Not a story”

“I believe every word you said. But you didn't tell me to purge your soul. You told me to warn me, to scare me - am, I right?”

“You should be terrified of me.”

“Why?”

“Why? Aloura, didn't you hear what a monster I am?”

“Sorry no, I missed that part. I did hear the sad story of a child being abused, an adolescent boy being exploited, a man struggling to come to terms with all that betrayal and loneliness.”.” She ran her soft warm hand down my face to cup my cheek. “I know the part where you are everyone's hero but refuse to allow anyone to stand tall and be your champion.” She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to mine. “You're destroying yourself by believing you belong in a life filled with despair. You never deserved any of what happened, Ryan. And you don’t deserve to be alone.”

“I couldn't save him,” I choked. The statement was random, and she wouldn’t have any clue I was talking about Jo.

“Who saved you?”

“I was old enough.”

“I refuse to accept that. You were a scared little boy, and you should never have been placed in a position where you felt it was your responsibility to sacrifice yourself for another child.”

Jerking back in the seat, I stared at her.

“How?”

“You had a weird nightmare, and you thought I was Chase. You were talking to me as if I was him.”

Her lips pressed so gently against my ear. I was scared to open my eyes in fear this was the cruellest dream of my life. I clenched my jaw and scrunched my eyes so tight my head hurt. She shifted and kissed the side of my eyebrow where I had a scar. Soft warm lips pressed against my skin.

“Aloura,” my voice came out desperate.

“I'm going to be your heroine. I'm going to chase away these monsters. Even if you don't want me the way I want you, I’m going to at least be your friend.”

I whimpered like a pussy and leaned against her. The battle inside me ceased, and I gave her everything. I surrendered to her. Her arms wrapped around me, holding me against her. The gentle rhythm of her heartbeat was like a lullaby.

“I want you so fucking bad, Aloura, it hurts.”

“I'm here. You have me.”

I chuckled softly against her chest at how we were sat. Her citrus scent wrapped me in a cocoon of warmth I never wanted to leave.

“What's funny? I hope to God you've not discovered chest hair,” she joked.

“I'm thirty-six years old, and this is the first time in my life I've ever been cuddled.” She stilled, and her hold loosened, and I regretted saying anything. When I opened my mouth to apologise, she cupped my face and pressed her lips so softly against my forehead. I knew she was going to pull away. This was her goodbye and a kick in the ass for being so pathetic.

“That is the saddest thing I think I've ever heard. I'm going to dedicate an hour of my day just to holding you. Until you believe you belong in my arms.”

“I’ve been alone for so long. I don’t know how to accept that,” I uttered. My hands itched to touch her, to place them around the curve of her hips, and ground her to me. But I forced them to stay at my sides. “I don’t know how to let you in.” My voice trembled, the atmosphere thick with desperation. I needed her so much I just didn’t know how to take it.

“I will earn your trust. I’ll try everything in my power to prove to you
I’m
worthy of it.” 

“Don’t do this, please,” I begged. She was drawing me in, using her power over me, and she would ultimately destroy me. That’s what they all did.

Trust, betray, destroy.

“Do what?”

“We can’t – there’s so much shit inside my head. I don’t know how to be normal.”

“Who defines what normal is anyway? Not one person is the same; we’re individual for a reason, to bring an array of beauty into the world. A rainbow is made of many
different
colours, but it still looks stunning. Different is good. Variation is
normal
. We are a thumbprint on the world, each uniquely creating our own impression.”

My hands curved around her hips like they were made to be there. Her warm, silky skin heated my palms.

“I’d like to be normal for you. I’d like to give you what a man should give a woman.” I pressed my face into her neck, just under her chin, forcing her to lift her head back. Her pulse throbbed, and the hollow at the base of her throat bobbed. I lifted my hand and fingered the smooth skin, dipping my finger into that hollow and stroking over her collar bone. Her hands tightened, gripping my shoulders. Her skin pebbled with goose bumps, and I wanted nothing more in that moment than to have a tiny taste. To stick my tongue out and sip at her skin. Feel her lips press against mine. I ran my hands up her back and pulled her closer; there was nothing sexual about it. I wanted her. I needed her like oxygen. She was becoming my reason to breath.

Strong arms were tight around me. His face was pressed against my neck, inhaling deeply as though he was trying to absorb me. I sensed the desperation in him, the need to feel connected to me, but I could also feel the war, the desire to run, but not to protect himself. I was quickly learning that every action Ryan made was designed to protect others from
him.
He was scared to let anyone in because he was so utterly vulnerable and lost on the inside, and it was easier to be alone. The cracks were widening, and he was bleeding.

“You don’t have to be alone anymore,” I whispered against the top of his head. He stiffened and clutched at me and a low whimper escaped him, but he didn’t say anything. “Facing anything alone is scary. You’ve battled what is inside your mind for so long, I fear those horrors are what keep you caged. You need to open the door and let someone in. It doesn’t have to be me. Jo, Will, your parents –” When he stiffened, I amended the use of parents to Bill and Ane. “Have someone to stand behind you, to catch you when you fall, to stand by your side when you need a partner, and someone to pat you on your back in moments of valour.”

His breath shuddered out of him. The tension was seeping out of his shoulders. How wonderful would it be if we could release our troubles so easily? One breath and they were all gone.

“Let go, give it up. The mind is brilliant and can achieve wondrous things, but it can also work to destroy us. The complexity that is our mind can be our own worst enemy.”

“You sound like a therapist,” he mumbled jovially.

“I spent a lot of time in Mum’s office in the school holidays.”

I ran my hands down his back, and then I lifted one to cup the back of his head. He tensed immediately and jerked his head, giving me a clear signal I wasn’t to touch him there.

“What finally made you snap? Because I really do feel like that’s what happened. I’ve somehow pushed you too far.”

He huffed out a breath and pulled away, placing some space between us. He pressed his back against the couch and stared into the kitchen, basically refusing to give me eye contact.

“Explain it to me,” I implored. I shifted from his lap and sat with my back against the arm of the couch, facing him. He still didn’t look at me, but I knew my moving had affected him with the tense set of his jaw and the tight fists he was clenching at his sides.

He ran his hands over that damned cap, the tendons in his neck pulsing. I was desperate to be in his arms again, to feel that close to him. But I knew he needed space. His body vibrated with an energy so powerful it was intoxicating.

“You kissed me,” he said in brittle voice. The encouraging smile I had on my face slipped. My stomach plummeted and twisted into an agonising knot.

“Was...was it so bad?” I stammered. My voice shaking as I waited for his answer. When he laughed without any humour, I was certain I would throw up. I hugged my arms around myself and squeezed, trying to abate the chills running through me. My face might have been burning with embarrassment, but my body was chilled to the core. I had taken a leap in kissing him, in believing I could ever be enough for someone like him. But the consequences were devastating.

Painfully slow, he turned his full attention to me. Those chilly blue eyes fixed on mine, and the sorrow reflected back at me had tears pricking the backs of my eyes.

“I’ve never wanted to kiss or be kissed by anyone as much as I do you, Aloura.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Watching a woman come is not attractive to me. It sickens me,” he blurted with so much disgust and hate I flinched. But then his words sank in. Who said anything about orgasms?

“What?”

He stood abruptly. “And men for that matter.” He glanced down at me. I assume waiting for my appalled reaction. I simply blinked up at him.

“Please, Aloura, just fucking run away. Look at me with contempt, hate, anything other than
that.”

“Other than what?”

“Like you understand. Like you would wait for every last dirty secret to seep out of me, and you would still sit there with empathetic eyes, ready to comfort me. I don’t deserve comfort, Aloura. I don’t deserve your patience.”

He sucked in a breath and pulled at his cap. I hated that bloody thing. It was his shield, and for once I wanted him to drop his guard, let me in. Allow me to fight.

“I’ve fucked more men and women than I can remember – no that’s a lie. I
do
remember. Every. Single. Face.” He screwed his eyes shut. His fists trembled at his sides. “I need a beer. Do you have any?”

“Harry had the last one. But I have a bottle of
Glayva.”

“What’s that?”

“A whiskey-based drink.”

“It will be fine,” he growled.

I jumped from the couch and padded into the library. I poured us both a drink. I headed back through the kitchen and paused to take some ice out of the freezer.

“Hold the ice.” I startled when he appeared behind the door of the freezer. I handed him a drink, and he immediately placed the glass to his lips and threw his head back, taking the liquid in one swallow. I watched the muscles in his throat work, loving the thick expanse of his neck.

“Another?”

He bobbed his head, but his eyes wouldn’t meet mine.

I decided to bring the bottle along for our talk. I had a feeling he needed it. I returned to the sofa and tucked my feet under my bottom. I cupped both hands around my glass and waited for Ryan to start talking. The silence in the room was deafening. He paced in front of the sofa opposite me like a caged animal.

“People say I’m this amazing hero. That I protect. My brothers’ seem to have me on some fucking pedestal, and they have no idea the shit I’ve done, the evil that lives inside me. I’m nothing but a coward.” His voice stuttered and cracked on his final word. I fought against everything in me to jump into his arms and protest, argue he wasn’t a coward. He was strong and beautiful and certainly not evil.

“Tell me.”

He turned and faced me, the bright blue of his eyes so intense I shivered. His gaze fixed on me, but he wasn’t
seeing
me. The muscle in his jaw ticked, and the clenching and unclenching of his fists warned where ever he was, he was reliving a nightmare.

“My parents were bastards. I mean the
real
kind of monsters no child should ever have to face.” My stomach twisted at the bleak sadness in his voice. “I’m the third oldest. Chase was the eldest, Kyle, then me. Chase is Johan’s biological father. And every first born Dermont male is named Chase.

When Chase was around seventeen, he fell in love with the most gorgeous girl I had ever seen. She was a ballerina, you kind of remind me of her a little. She had long dark hair, the sweetest smile, and she made Chase so Goddamn happy. Obviously my father hated her, hated anyone who took his
special
boy’s attention. Problem was, even though Johanna was perfect, Daddy dearest had fucked Chase up beyond redemption, and when Chase Junior –
Johan,
was born my brother turned into our father. He beat her and Jo.”

“So Jo is your nephew.”

“My brother was his real father. Bill and Ane Senior, Will’s parents, adopted him.”

“O-kay. But you call each other –”

“In every sense of the word those two are my brothers.” He stormed over to the window, missing my head nodding in agreement. I clenched my jaw to keep it from asking anything else. I stared at his tense back, the tight set of his shoulders, and waited, praying he would continue.

“He was a cruel bastard to them, and I hated him for becoming another monster like dear old dad. I was angry that he left me at the hands of our father, but when I saw the angel he was running to, I hoped one day an angel like her would find me.” Ryan sucked in a breath and refilled his glass. Once again he necked the liquid. I watched with rapt attention as he recounted a horror story. The strength he exuded even though he sounded destroyed.

“My brother lost control one day and killed Johanna. He...he...
beat
her to death. Right in front of Jo.”

There was no hiding my shocked gasp. I covered my mouth, hoping he wouldn’t stop. He needed this. His gaze tracked mine, and the corner of his mouth lifted in an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I really wish it was the worst I have to tell you. I can stop –”

“No! Please, go on.” I lifted my glass to my lips, hoping he wouldn’t notice my hand trembling.

“Chase extinguished a light that day. He stole from the world such a pure heart when he killed her. But he also sent an innocent little boy into the depths of hell. Jo came to live with us. And the day he arrived, I will never forget the gleam in my father’s eyes when the tiniest little kid crawled from the backseat of the police cruiser. He was so much like his momma, but he had the Dermont blues.” He pointed to his eyes. “I knew that day my dad was going to make him a
special
boy. So I tried everything to get the kid placed somewhere else.”

When he paused, staring out of the window, I shifted and pulled the blanket from the back of the sofa over me. There was a cold chill in the room, like a ghost was shifting around my shoulders. “What happened? What did you do?”

“I beat him,” he choked. He stumbled against the patio doors, staring out into the night. I watched his shoulders rise and fall with each breath, and the hand by his side holding his glass was shaking. “I made the poor bastard’s life hell.” He tilted his head back and stared up at the night sky. His shoulders were shaking, and his breaths were choppy. I knew he was choking on emotion. I had never wanted to curl myself around someone and hold them so I could absorb their pain.

“Why?” I asked, quietly. Unsure my voice even carried across to him. I couldn’t imagine Ryan ever hurting someone on purpose, particularly Jo.

“Because I knew what would happen if he remained in that house. I wanted someone to take him away. I wanted to free him. I couldn’t go to the police and report Dad; he fucking owned them. I thought...people are supposed to protect kids aren’t they? Take them away when they are getting hurt. I wanted to protect him from what happened at night.”

“What would happen?” I whispered. The cold crawling sensation down my spine warned me I really didn’t want to know.

“Dad stopped
touching
Chase when I turned four. His
attentions
were focused on me. He liked...smaller boys.”

I covered my mouth, and tears stung my eyes. I really didn’t want to hear anymore, but I knew I had finally cracked the vault, and I had to sit there and suck it up and take what I had asked him for.

“Dad never paid any attention to my other brothers, Kyle, Tate, Gray, and Jace. They were invisible to the bastard. I used to wish he would notice them and leave me alone.” He turned and faced me. The pain in his eyes pulled a choked sob from me, and tears cascaded down my cheeks. “What fucked up
monster
thinks that about his own brothers? I wanted to die, Aloura. I wanted the pain to stop.” His gorgeous blue eyes glazed over with tears. “Then my little buddy arrived. I was eleven at the time, angry as fuck and ready to go into the lake and never come back out. But instead I was thrust into a new hell. I watched the excitement in Dad’s face, and I knew that the kid would become one of us. And I knew it was my fault for wishing Dad’s attention would move from me.”

“No, God, Ryan no.”

“I had to watch as my father shattered the life of my favourite person in the whole world. I tried so hard to make it stop. But each day, I watched that tiny boy turn into a frightened ghost.” Ryan staggered forward and grabbed the arm of the sofa before clumsily falling into the soft cushions. He cradled his head in both hands as his body shuddered. “I wanted my pain to stop, but I never wanted that.”His voice crumbled and cracked into a broken sob.

I couldn’t stand to be away from him any longer. I jumped from the sofa and dashed across the small space to crouch in front of him. I wrapped my arms around his waist and buried my face in his chest. It was an awkward angle, but I refused to let him go. I half-expected him to push me away, so when his large arms wrapped around me and held onto me as if his next breath depended on it, I squeezed his waist just as tight. This beautiful giant of a man in my arms was lost. His body shuddered when I ran my hands up his back, stroking him, comforting him. There was nothing remotely sexual about our embrace, but it was the most intimate moment of my life.