Ascension (Book 4, The Watcher Chronicles) (10 page)

I feel my heart lurch inside my chest as I watch this strange woman have her way with my man. I feel too shocked to move and just stare, completely horrified by the scene playing out in front of me.

With his hands full, Mason isn’t able to push her away but he does try to step back from her. He attempts to twist his lips away from her ravenous mouth but she doesn’t allow him as she tightens her arms around his neck like a vise. Finally, Mason seems to come to his senses and phases to my side but the damage has already been done. His lips are marked with scarlet red lipstick which is smeared on his lips and up the side of his left cheek from when he tried to stop the kiss.

I stare at Mason.

My heart feels like it’s just been hammered into a million pieces and the remnants are simply trying to keep me alive. He opens his mouth to say something to me but is cut off by the shrill laughter of the woman in the blue dress as she comes up to him and loops an arm through one of his with comfortable familiarity.

“Are we playing that game tonight, amante?” The woman asks Mason in a low intimate voice, her accent Italian. “You know I will let you win every time.”

I don’t need to be told what ‘amante’ means because I already have a pretty good idea from the intimate way she murmured the word to Mason.

“Julietta, don’t,” Mason says to the woman harshly, trying to extricate his arm from hers without spilling the contents of the glass in that arm’s hand. He fails to release himself from her hold because the woman named Julietta refuses to let him go so easily.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in Venice?” She asks, completely oblivious to my presence. “I would have met you at the hotel, mia cara.”

Julietta leans her head lovingly against Mason’s arm. I feel the sting of tears burn the back of my eyes because I know what this woman is: one of Mason’s previous lovers. The realization of this knowledge spurs me into action. I turn on my heels and walk out of the room down the hallway, which I know will lead me to the entrance of the house. The further I walk the faster my gate becomes until I’m practically running for the door. I lift the front of my skirt with both hands to make my escape easier. People are staring at me as I make my retreat but I really don’t care. I just want out.

When I reach the front door, Mason is standing there to block my way. Sometime between my departure from him and now he ditched the glasses of champagne.

“Jess,” he says desperately, “let me explain.”

I just stare at him because he still wears Julietta’s red lipstick on his face.

“Get out of my way,” I order. I see him flinch at the venom in my voice but he doesn’t budge.

“Not until you let me explain.”

“You don’t have to explain,” I tell him scathingly. “I got the picture. In fact, it’s pretty much scorched in my memory forever now.”

I turn to walk away from Mason, determined to find another way out of the house when I feel him grab my arm. I instantly find myself in the parlor of our hotel room.

“Don’t touch me,” I growl at him, as I wrench my arm out of his grasp.

“Jess, please,” he begs. “I didn’t even think about the possibility of her being there tonight.”

I don’t look at him because I know if I do the look on his face might quell the anger I feel, and I don’t want to give it up so easily.

I feel like I can’t take a full breath so I rip the butterfly mask off my face, throwing it at Mason. He catches it in one hand but doesn’t pay attention to the strength he uses. The mask crumbles into pieces in his grasp. I just stare at it realizing it’s the same thing he’s done to my heart.

“Was she one of your lovers?” I ask him, finally forcing myself to look up at his face, daring him to lie to me.

I can tell he’s tried to wipe off Julietta’s lip stick but a scarlet stain still remains against his lips and cheek.

He looks at me beseechingly, as if asking me to forgive the answer he’s about to give.

“Yes. She was.”

My heart rips a little bit more.

“And is this the hotel you used to bring her to?” I ask.

He hesitates but says, “Yes.”

“In this room?”

I watch as Mason swallows hard before answering, “Yes.”

I feel the hot tears of my rage, pain and disappointment make scalding trails down my cheeks.

“How could you?” I ask him, not hiding my disappointment in him. “How could you bring me to the same place as her?”

“I honestly didn’t think about it, Jess. I always stay at this hotel, in this room, when I’m in Venice.”

I feel my anger take over for my heartache because if I let my heartache rule my emotions I know I’ll fall to pieces. I use the palms of my hands and push against Mason’s chest making him falter back from me.

“Why did you let her kiss you?” I demand. I push him again. “Why didn’t you try to stop her?”

“She caught me off guard,” Mason tells me, not trying to defend himself against my attack or my questions. “Jess, please, don’t do this. She means nothing to me.”

I hit Mason again with the palms of my hands on his chest forcing him back another step when another thought enters my mind.

“That’s why Arnoldo looked at me so strangely earlier, isn’t it?  He was expecting her on your arm, not me.”

Mason doesn’t say anything to me, just stands there answering my question with his silence.

I push Mason away one final time before I turn my back to him and walk into the bedroom. I slam the door shut and lean my back against it trying to quiet the rending of my breaking heart.

Mason phases inside the room and stands directly in front of me.

“Jess, please,” he begs.

“Get away from me!” I scream at him as I push away from the door and try to walk around him to head to the bathroom.

Mason grabs my left arm. I raise my right hand and slap him as hard as I can across the face but he refuses to let me go. He pulls me back against the door wedging his body against mine so I’m pinned into place.

“Now you know how I felt,” he tells me, and I see his jaw muscles tense with an anger of his own.

I look at him like I have no idea what he’s talking about because I don’t.

“You and Chandler,” he tells me. “That time he kissed you. The way you feel now is exactly the way I felt then.”

“But he was never my lover.”

“But you’re pretending to be his. The world thinks you are.”

“Don’t even try to turn the table on me, Mason.”

“I’m just trying to make you see reason. At least Julietta means nothing to me. Can you honestly say Chandler means nothing to you?”

“He’s my friend. Of course he means something to me. But I’ve never had sex with him. And if I had, I never would have brought you to the same hotel room I used with him, the same bed. So don’t try to compare Chandler and me to you and your whore!”

I roughly push Mason away, and he stumbles back from the force of it.

We stand there just staring at one another, both of us breathing heavily.

With a determined look on his face, Mason walks up to me. I lift my arms intent on pushing him away again, but he grabs them by the wrist and pins them against the door above my head.

“I love you,” he says in desperation. “I only want you. You’re my life, Jess. Please, don’t do this. Don’t punish me for something I can’t change.”

“Is she better than me?” I ask, trying to find a way to hurt him with my words since I obviously can’t do it physically. “Does she know all the secret things you like to do in bed that I don’t?”

I see the desired effect of my questioning in Mason’s eyes. I see his hurt but find no joy in it.

“She’s nothing to me. You’re everything,” he whispers desperately.

I try to lift my arms and push Mason away with my body, but he refuses to budge this time.

I start to thrash against the door hoping it will knock him off balance but his body is like stone, unmovable.

The longer he holds me the faster I feel my anger give way to the ache in my heart. I feel betrayed. I’ve always known Mason had other women in his life before me but having to come face to face with one of them is more than I can bear. I close my eyes and begin to cry again. I feel Mason rest his forehead gently against mine.

“Please don’t cry,” he begs. “You know how much that hurts me.”

My sobs grow louder as I let go of my restraint on them. I don’t care if my tears hurt him. I want him to feel hurt. I want him to feel my pain. I want him to know how much his thoughtlessness is costing me.

Finally, he lets go of my arms and they fall limply to my sides because I have no more fight left in me.

I feel his hands cup the sides of my face as he plants small kisses against the trail of tears on my cheeks.

“Jess,” he begs in a soft voice, “please forgive me. Please.”

He gently teases my mouth with his lips, as if he’s testing my resolve to remain angry with him.

I don’t kiss him back, but I don’t try to push him away either.

The heaviness in my heart makes my whole body ache, like I can’t move or even breathe. I want nothing more than to purge the image of Julietta kissing Mason from my mind. The mere thought of her making love to him incites some primal need deep within me to wipe her from his memory. I don’t want him thinking about her. I only want him to think about me.

I open my eyes filled with a new determination, a new need.

I grab the lapels of Mason’s jacket and yank him closer.

I look him directly in the eyes and say, “Do what I say with no questions asked if you want to prove that you’re really sorry.”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he says and I know he means it.

“Then take me somewhere else because I’m not one of your whores.”

Mason immediately phases us to the beach house bedroom.

I let go of his jacket.

“Tear my dress off,” I order.

Mason grabs the front of my dress with both hands and rips it straight down the middle releasing me from its confining hold. He lets the remnants fall from his hands to the floor. Without the dress, I stand in front of him only wearing a pair of pink silk panties, white thigh-high stockings, garter belt and high heels.

He makes to move closer to me, but I hold a hand out and place it against his chest to prevent him.

“No,” I say, “you don’t get to touch me unless I say you can.”

Mason stands completely still and I know from this simple act of obedience he will do whatever I tell him to from here on out.  I walk up closer to him and begin to remove his jacket. I can feel him watching me, but I don’t look at his face and make eye contact. I plan to choose the moment that happens carefully.

I throw his jacket on the floor and tug on one end of his bow tie, undoing the knot and slipping it off from around his neck. In one quick movement, I rip open his white dress shirt, popping the buttons onto the floor. I leave the shirt on him and begin to unbutton his slacks and let the zipper down. The pants slip past his hips onto the floor.

“Take your socks and shoes off,” I order.

Mason sits on the side of the bed and does as he’s told, without asking questions, without saying a word.

He just watches me as I step out from the middle of the ruined dress on the floor and kick it off to the side, slipping my shoes off as well.

When I look at him, still refusing to meet his gaze, I see that his body is ready for me but I don’t intend to make it that easy for him.

“Lie down on the bed,” I tell him.

Mason lifts his legs and lays his head on the pillow, still watching me, still waiting for me to let him touch my body.

“Close your eyes,” I order as I go to stand at the foot of the bed.

Mason watches me for a moment more then closes his eyes.

I push off the floor a small bit until I’m floating in the air horizontally. I twist my body in the air like a cork screw until I’m hovering a few inches over Mason’s body. I look down at him and use the tips of my fingers to lightly trace the outline of his lips. They part slightly as he exhales, finding pleasure in my touch. I trail the fingers of both my hands down either side of his neck and over the hard muscles of his exposed chest. His abdominal muscles tighten as I glide the palm of my hands down their flat planes. When I reach the band of his underwear, I use an index finger to trace the outline of his erection through the thin cloth. I hear him take in a sharp breath at my light touch on the most sensitive part of his body.