In His Keeping (Slow Burn #2) (27 page)

TWENTY-TWO

ARI
awoke to a dull throb at the base of her skull and her forehead, but the pain had lessened to a much more tolerable level. She was deliciously warm, and she tried to stretch, to work the kinks out of her sore muscles when her elbow collided with a hard chest. Which certainly explained the cozy warmth.

Their two bodies under the covers formed a seal and the air surrounding them was heated, mainly by Beau, because it seemed after using her powers, when she was utterly vulnerable and defenseless, that the strain on her brain made it so her body temperature wasn’t able to be regulated like normal. The result was that she always woke from the post-trauma, drug-induced fog with shivering cold permeating even her bones, and it seemed she was chilled on the inside, making it impossible for her to get warm.

Not so this time.

She instinctively snuggled deeper into Beau’s body, twining her legs through his so that his heat surrounded her completely. She nuzzled her cheek against his chest and then sighed in contentment as only a woman with the perfect man could do. The perfect man for
her
.

I chose you.

Those words, so powerful and heartrending, played over and over in her mind, soothing away the splintered fragments of pain, anger and violence.

Were there any three sweeter words to hear? She thought a moment and then acknowledged there was. Only one phrase that had more power than a man telling a woman that, out of the millions of women in the world, he chose only
one
. One! He chose
her
.

I love you.

Oh to hear those words from his lips, from his
heart
. To know that he meant them with every fiber of his being. She’d give anything in the
world
to have her heart’s desire. Her parents alive, safe,
home
. And Beau Devereaux’s love. If she ever were assured of those two things, she’d never ask for more.

By acknowledging the yearning from the deepest recesses of her soul, she was forced to acknowledge the depth of her
own
feelings. Her heart had literally been breaking apart, splintering, cracking. Piece by piece, chipped away as she’d walked—or rather tried to walk—away from him. To leave him the peace and strength of family that he deserved.

She knew how important family was. Her own family wasn’t as large as Beau’s, but it didn’t mean it was any less strong. And perhaps it was
because
it had always been only her, her mother, and her father, that their bond was so indestructible.

In a world where divorce was common. Where children left home at an early age. Where husbands beat wives. Spouses cheated on one another. Children were abused. Ari’s family had stood the test of time, and in fact, had strengthened—not weakened—with each passing year.

Her memories—so many wonderful, cherished memories—were so very dear to her and she prayed with all her heart that they would share many more memories to come. That she would one day give them grandchildren to protect and spoil every bit as much as they’d done with her.

Beau’s children.

The thought whispered enticingly through her damaged mind. She automatically lifted her head, seeking the reassurance that looking at his strong facial features always gave her. Her lips parted in surprise when she realized he was fully awake—
had
been awake for a while, because there were no cloudy remnants of sleep lingering lazily in his eyes. They were alert and aware. And they were solidly focused on her.

It was apparent she wasn’t the only one who’d been absorbed in a quiet moment of reflection. She only wished she was privy to his thoughts. She wanted so badly for her wants and desires, her hopes and dreams, to align with his. She wanted to share her
life
. With him.
Only
him.

Was she crazy to have fallen so hard and so inexplicably
fast
? Her brow furrowed momentarily as her perusal of Beau’s beautiful face gave way to silent contemplation of just how long, or rather how short, a time they’d even been associated.

Her only knowledge of Beau Devereaux, until just a few short days ago, was by name only. And only when, in those rare moments when her father was in a serious mood, and she’d always gotten the uneasy feeling that he was . . .
afraid
. Of something. Or someone. Because it was when he was in those very rare moods that he seemed to further gather his wife and daughter to him and would only separate himself from them for a few moments at most.

It was those times that he’d, out of the blue, very somberly remind Ari that if she were ever in need, ever in danger and that he wasn’t, for whatever reason, available, close or simply unable to see to his daughter’s safety and well-being, she was to immediately contact Caleb or Beau Devereaux and only in person. Not over the phone. Never to give them the opportunity to give her the brush-off, think she was nuts, or say they were booked solid.

Her father—and mother—had laughingly told her many times over the years that no one had a chance upon laying eyes on Ari’s sweet, beautiful features and that her eyes were capable of bewitching even the hardest of hearts.

She supposed that was why he’d wanted her to seek Beau out personally. Perhaps he’d been afraid that he wouldn’t help her unless she pleaded her case in person. Whatever the reason, she offered silent thanks to her father. As a result of that extracted promise, not only did she have her best chance to save her parents, but she’d also met a man who made her want to dream. A man she wanted forever with.

“What on earth are you thinking, honey?” Beau asked softly, reaching out with one finger to gently caress away the lines creasing her forehead. “Are you worried about something? Are you hurting?” he demanded, as though the thought had just occurred to him.

He was already reaching for the medicine bottle on the nightstand when she issued a hasty denial. She placed her hand on his chest to stay his motion and he reluctantly turned back to her, concern burning brightly in his eyes.

“Are you certain?” he asked in a skeptical tone. “Ari, if you hurt, you need to control the pain or risk another bleed, or God forbid, a more serious
hemorrhage
.”

She smiled, her heart warming to its very core over the depth of concern, both in his words and in his entire body language. She looped her arm as far around his broad chest as she was able and gave him a fierce squeeze, her attempt at a hug since they were both lying down, him on his back and her on her side nestled into the curve of his armpit.

“Hey,” he queried softly. “Not that I’m complaining at all, but what was that for? What’s going on, honey? You looked so puzzled and then worried. Your eyes were flashing as though you were processing half a dozen thoughts in that pretty head. And the very last thing you need is any kind of stress. So tell me so I can take care of it and make it better.”

She wanted to say it so badly. The words burned on her lips, begging to be set free. Instead she licked them to ease the tingling sensation. Just the thought of offering him those three little words, the most important words in the world—in her world, at least—filled her with gut-wrenching terror. And offering someone your love should
never
be terrifying. It should be celebrated. Embraced. A memory to savor—and hold close to your heart—forever.

But she was scared. Of rejection. Of seeing discomfort or even dismay flicker in those dark eyes. Or the worst possible reaction of all.
Pity
.

The very last thing she ever wanted from this man was pity. She wanted his love. His commitment. His protection. She wanted the kind of love her parents shared, and oh but she could see it so clearly with Beau. Never before had she met a man who even made her wonder if he could possibly be a man who’d measure up to her father. That she could share with him all her mother and father shared.

Wistful yearning twisted her chest and brief sadness tugged at her heart, squeezing it gently as she imagined a love like that simply . . . disappearing.

The world was a better place with people like her parents. Everyone should want more—better—should demand it. Her parents were an example to be held up in esteem, an example of the testament of absolute love, loyalty, fidelity and selflessness.

“Okay, Ari, you’re starting to worry me,” Beau said firmly, reaching up to nudge her chin so her attention was forced to him once more. “I swear you keep drifting away to God only knows where. I only know you’re not here with me.”

“But that’s exactly where I want to be,” she said softly, her palm sliding over the wall of his chest, exploring every hard contour, the ripple of his abdominal muscles. Then she pressed a kiss just above his left nipple, enjoying the brush of her lips over his firm skin and even firmer pectorals.

“You can’t possibly want it more than I do,” he said, sliding his fingers up the length of her arm that was still flung across his body.

“Do you mean that?” she asked hesitantly, instantly searching his gaze for any sign of the veracity of his words.

He looked confused and then worried. He turned on his side, his hand wrapped around her arm so it stayed anchored around him when he moved. Then he reached to trace a line from her temple to her cheek, sending shivers of sheer contentment coursing through her veins.

“How can you doubt that?” he asked. And then faint alarm registered in his eyes and he stared intently at her, as if doing the exact same thing she’d been doing to him. Trying to see into her thoughts, to understand or discover her thoughts, her feelings. And her fears.

“Ari, do you doubt that I want to be with you? That I want you with me? And not just temporarily. Not days. Not weeks. Not months.”

“How long then?” she whispered, dodging his question of whether she doubted his words. She was much more interested in the last things he’d said.

Hope made her pulse flutter and then speed up. She held her breath for seemingly an eternity as she waited for . . . confirmation? Something more? Commitment?

Love?

Oh God, she couldn’t go there. Could not set herself up for devastation. She had to learn to steel herself. Not to take so much to heart. To be able to shrug off the negative things and embrace the good.

His cheeks puffed as he blew out a long breath and his hand slid from her face to capture the arm lying over his chest. He took her hand, lacing their fingers, and then simply placed their joined hands over his heart.

“This is where you are, Ari. Here. And this is where you’ll stay. And because you’re here,” he said, pressing her hand harder against the steady thud of his heartbeat. “That means that I
want
you here.”

He gestured to the bed. And then swept his arm to encompass the room.

“Everywhere,” he said softly. “Everywhere I am is where I want you to be.”

He leaned forward, still keeping her hand trapped solidly between their bodies and he fused his mouth to hers in the sweetest of kisses. He was still treating her gently, as though he feared she would break or that he’d somehow cause her more pain.

“Forever,” he whispered into her mouth, the word swallowed up as she inhaled the scent, the taste, the feel of him surrounding her. “I want forever.”

And that one word, so simple but utterly sincere, gave her contentment such as she’d never known or experienced.

Love finds you when you least expect it. Under seemingly impossible circumstances, but it was there. Young and blooming still. Unwavering and constant.

Love truly did conquer all. Love required trust, unconditional faith in the face of adversity.

Some of the overwhelming fears of losing her family dimmed, because, in this
moment
, Ari knew without a doubt that Beau would find her parents and that Ari and Beau’s love would be as steadfast and true as her mother and father’s and that they too would withstand the test of time

TWENTY-THREE

BEAU’S
expression blackened and he emitted a soft curse when a firm knock sounded at his bedroom door. He rolled to his back with a groan and slapped his palm to his forehead in a signal of frustration.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Now? Someone’s going to interrupt us now of all times? Swear to God, the house better be on fire.”

Ari smothered a smile and tried to summon irritation equal to his, but he was too funny with his pouty sullen look of a boy who’d just been denied his favorite toy.

When the knock persisted, Beau rolled, sliding his feet to thump on the floor, and then rose to stalk to the door, yanking it open with enough force to rip it from its hinges.

“What?” he barked

Ari turned, curious as to whom would brave Beau’s wrath to interrupt them so early in the morning. She frowned. Or at least she thought it was morning. Yesterday was a fog bank, and she had to struggle to part the veil of mist in order to remember all that had happened.

She shivered with the bone-deep cold that always assailed her after a psychic burst—a word she’d made up on the fly because, well . . . it was appropriate—because Beau was no longer there to warm her and the bed was suddenly chilly. She dug her feet deeper, seeking residual warmth from the imprint of his legs and feet.

At first she couldn’t see who had knocked on Beau’s door because Beau solidly filled the doorway and they were speaking in low tones. So she couldn’t hear? Or out of deference to the fact she was always so sound sensitive. But she wasn’t now, so it had to be that they didn’t
want
her to hear.

She frowned, sitting up in bed, craning her neck to see around Beau, and was finally able to see enough of the intruder to recognize him. Zack. Only he wasn’t alone. Caleb and Dane were both flanking Zack. She bit her lip in agitation. What on earth was going on? Why were all
three
men standing there wearing determined expressions? Except Caleb, whose eyes and face seemed locked in impenetrable stone. He neither frowned nor smiled. He was utterly unreadable—but obviously serious, and even so, he definitely intimidated her.