You Are My Hope (You Are Mine Book 2) Read online

  “Mason.” She practically whimpers my name and it pulls the beast in me closer to her. My knee dips into the bed, making it groan with my weight as I crawl over to her.

  Her soft blue eyes pierce through me, cutting through the dark room. More of the soft lighting from the city slips between us as the heat kicks on and the curtains sway. The way the light kisses her skin as she pushes away the blush silk duvet makes her all the more beautiful.

  She’s laid out for me. All for me. She needs me.

  I crush my lips to hers and dig my fingers into the flesh of her hips as she spreads her thighs for me. Her soft moans fill the hot air between us.

  She’s ashamed to be moving on so quickly. Especially with a man like me. I wasn’t made for a woman like her. I’m someone who could tarnish her sterling reputation and make the cracks in her picture-perfect life even deeper. To say I’m rough around the edges is putting it lightly, but I have what it takes to keep her.

  She thinks she’s ruined, but she’s perfect. It’s my sins and secrets that could destroy us both. I’ll never let them come to light. Not now that I have something worth fighting for.

  Julia

  Present day

  I’m caught between my need to run away and the need to know the truth. I need the truth from him. No more secrets; no more lies.

  He promised.

  He loves me.

  There’s just no way.

  “Did you do it?” The question leaves me in a single weak breath and in an instant, something snaps into place. It’s as if he’s not at all shocked by what I’m saying. As if he’s been waiting for this.

  No. My body turns to ice; my blood freezes in my veins and I can’t believe this is reality. It can’t be true.

  Mason takes a step forward, starting to move around the island and it breaks me from my denial.

  It’s my cue to run, a natural instinct that takes over. The stool falls hard, crashing to the floor as I take off, but Mason’s faster, grabbing my waist and jerking me backward. I cry out from fear and he releases me, only for me to fall onto the tiles at my feet. His large frame towers over me, and he puts his hands up as though he’s approaching a wild animal. I feel like I am just that. Eyes wide as I stare up at him, my heart pounds painfully in my chest. Thump, thump, thump.

  “Did I do what?” he asks with a coldness I haven’t seen before and his eyes narrowed. This isn’t the man I know.

  My bottom lip trembles, the small bit of strength I had vanishing as I take in the raw truth. “Did you kill my husband?”

  The words leave me in agony as they hover in the tense air between us.

  I can’t believe I even asked him that. Deny it. Please deny it. Tell me I’m a fool. And this, whatever this is, it’s something that’s already over and never happened.

  Mason stands up straight, giving me enough space so that my breath can come back to me, but my lungs refuse to fill until he answers me.

  “They think they can do whatever they want,” Mason says, still standing over me as he snatches the paper from where it lays on the floor. I didn’t even realize I’d dropped it.

  No. That’s not what he should be saying right now.

  “Your husband wasn’t a good man,” Mason adds lowly, his eyes piercing me before flicking back to the paper. He crumples it in his fist as a cold sweat spreads across my skin.

  “No.” It’s all I can say. “You didn’t.” I try to say more but it’s in vain as my throat dries up and constricts. I don’t know if it’s the shock or if I’m just that pathetic. I didn’t fall for a murderer. Mason couldn’t—

  “I did.” Mason’s confession makes me light-headed, and a sickness churns in my gut.

  My heart twists with a pain that’s unbearable as I crawl away quickly, trying to escape. I slip against the ground, crashing hard to the cold, unforgiving floor.

  “No!” I scream at him, leaving a strangled cry to linger between us. It’s only then that I even register I’m crying.

  I try again to run, managing to get to my feet this time and the foyer is so close as I stumble out of the kitchen. I call out for help, although I doubt anyone could hear us. Not here inside Mason’s home. I practically slam into the front door, but Mason’s right behind me.

  With one hand on the door and one on the knob, his hard body presses against mine, trapping me between him and my only escape.

  His large body cages me in. I’m left facing the door, barely able to stand or breathe. “You were never supposed to know,” he whispers. I shrink beneath him, the weight of the reality crashing down on me. “I’m sorry.”

  I’ve fallen in love with my husband’s killer. I’ve slept with him and given him everything.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, Jules.” His warm breath sends shivers down my back as he adds, “But I can’t let you leave.”

  Julia

  The only thing you need to worry about is remembering my name. Just my name and what I've done to you tonight.

  Mason whispered those words so close to my ear, sending a shiver of want through my body. It was everything I desired when I met him. He made that promise to me the first night, and I so easily fell into his bed.

  I’d been so desperate to feel anything but the heartache and misery I’d succumbed to.

  If only I could take it back.

  If only I’d known this man was the cause of my pain.

  Anger seethes inside me as I stare at him across the other side of his bedroom, where he’s sitting in the corner. His elbows rest on his thighs as he hunches over the edge of the reading chair with his head in his hands. His fingers run back and forth along the back of his head as if there’s a thought inside his mind he can’t quite reach.

  He won’t look at me; he merely stares at the ground in complete silence. All the while I’m shattered, and with every minute that passes I feel the broken pieces more and more.

  My body is restless and my eyes burn with a desperate need to cry, but I have nothing left.

  I try to scoot my exhausted body up the bed to soothe my sore arms, but the rope tied around my wrists tightens with the sudden pull, chafing me. I wince and suck in a breath through clenched teeth; my shoulders are screaming in pain.

  Hours have passed since I found out the truth. Hours spent restrained to this bed. When I wouldn’t stop screaming and fighting him, clawing at him and trying to escape his strong grip, he tied me up.

  It’s been only minutes since he’s come back into the room, though. Minutes since he’s opened that door and let his eyes rest on me. I’m pathetic, weak and completely at his mercy. Captive to a man I loved who hid a secret so dark and corrupt it’s ruined me. I’ll never be the same. There’s no way to recover.

  Ticktock. Ticktock.

  It’s only been minutes since he lowered himself into the chair without speaking a word to me, I remind myself. He sits in a chair I brought from my home to his. A chair I’d cried countless tears in after my husband died.

  And yet he says nothing. It’s the silence that kills me.

  “I hate you.” The words slowly scrape their way up my sore throat. They’re barely audible, since my voice is so raspy and weak from all the screaming.

  He slowly lifts his head, his corded muscles rippling. For the first time since I’ve been with Mason, after months spent falling in love with him, I feel real agony. The small involuntary shudder my body makes proves there’s a bit of fear present too.

  The sharp lines of his jaw look more intense in the dim light, the shadows only making them seem more severe. His steel gray eyes are like daggers as he captures my gaze.

  I can’t breathe; I can’t look away. I hate him for what he did then and I hate him for how he’s making me feel now.

  “You don’t,” he says and his voice is rough and deep. He sounds stronger than before. But it’s a lie. All lies.

  I do. I hate him more than I could ever express.

  Finally, I gasp for air rather than crying any more tears, breaking his gaze t
o stare up at the ceiling. Even that minor movement makes the raw wounds at my wrists hurt. I try to hide it, though.

  I gave this man everything. How could I have been so foolish? “I hate you more than you’ll ever know,” I murmur to the ceiling in an eerily calm voice although my heart is anything but.

  The creaking of the floorboards grabs my attention, and my gaze whips to Mason as he stands. Goosebumps spread slowly over every inch of my skin as he rises.

  His muscular frame seems so much larger in this moment, and a hint of a lethal concoction gives a low stir in the pit of my stomach. He’s always been dominating and intimidating, but this is something darker… something more.

  I have nothing to protect me, not even a sheet. He stripped the linens off the bed before tying me up and I was left in only the underwear and baggy, thin cotton T-shirt I slipped on this morning. The chill is getting to me.

  The bed dips and groans as he places a knee on it only inches away from me. I would struggle to pull away, but I’m stuck here. Both of us know that.

  “I love you, Jules,” he murmurs and his words are a mix of strangled pain and determination. He’s a broken man with a tortured soul.

  I don’t know how I could possibly look at a man who’s done this to me and feel any kind of sorrow for him, but I do.

  I’ve met men before who’ve been wound tight, waiting to go off like a bomb. They were always constantly on edge and ready for a fight at a moment’s notice. Mason’s not like that. Instead he’s like thread loosely wrapped around a spindle, nothing but a mess of tangles. It’s not soft string; this thread’s sharp to the touch and there’s no hope at unraveling it without cutting yourself.

  I never knew how deeply he’d wounded me. I had no idea that while I was busy mending myself and leaning on him for support, he was watching me bleed out, saying nothing. The closer he got, the deeper the inevitable betrayal, but that didn’t stop him. He had so many chances to tell me what he’d done.

  I let my head drop to look him in the eyes. It makes my heart swell with an unbearable pain to have him so close to me. To see how injured he is, but knowing it’s nothing compared to what he’s done to me.

  I truly loved him. I thought fate had given me a second chance at love and happiness. I knew it was too good to be true.

  “How could you do that?” The aching question isn’t what I’d planned to say when I narrowed my eyes. “You’re sick,” I add and the words are gritted out somehow, bearing the strength I was aiming for and I wait for him to strike back with the same venom I’ve given him.

  His steady breathing is somehow calming and it irritates me as I watch his chest rise and fall. “Maybe,” he says before rising off the bed and turning away from me. My heart plummets at the sight of his back to me and my expression crumples. It physically hurts me to know he’s hurting too. I thought I knew agony before. My God.

  Why did this happen? How could it happen?

  Tears threaten and I shove them back, hating all of this and praying to just wake up and find it’s merely a bad dream. Please! Please, I would give anything for this to only be a nightmare. My silent prayers are disrupted by the wood floors creaking as Mason heads toward the door, leaving me here and not giving me any indication of what’s to come.

  “Aren’t you going to say you’re sorry?” I whisper the ragged question. Maybe that’s what’s most shocking; he hasn’t said he’s sorry. Not for tying me up and keeping me here… not for murdering my husband almost a year ago.

  His tall frame pauses in the partially opened doorway, stopping in his tracks as he registers what I’ve said. He turns his head slowly to look back at me over his shoulder, his hand still on the carved glass doorknob.

  “I already told you that I’m sorry. You were never supposed to know the truth.”

  “You’re only sorry that I found out?” I ask with equal amounts of disbelief and hurt.

  His eyes dart to the floor and the bedroom door groans as it opens slightly wider.

  He glances up at me hesitantly, as if debating on telling me something. It would be the truth; I can see it, can feel the intensity. Instead he says nothing, walking out of the bedroom with even strides before slamming the door shut behind him.

  Mason

  The past is dark,

  And filled with pain.

  Mistakes were made,

  And nothing gained.

  If I had known,

  I’d have found a way.

  But what’s done is done,

  The past never goes away.

  Someone knows. The knowledge brings a chill that prickles down my shoulders to the base of my spine. Someone knows what I’ve done. It’s been nearly a year. So much time has passed and yet they’ve said and done nothing until now. All the possibilities of who it could possibly be are jumbled in the forefront of my mind. For hours I’ve been focused on this rather than what I’ve done to Jules. My poor Jules.

  I didn’t think anyone knew until Jules received that letter.

  It destroys me that I couldn’t lie to her. I couldn’t hide what I’d done. Some sick, twisted part of me is relieved that now she knows.

  But then I see the way she looks at me. I deserve the hate… I knew it would come to this and still I want to fix it. I don’t have any other choice but to make this right. I can’t let her go.

  I won’t.

  They say if you love someone, you should let them go.

  That’s bullshit.

  I didn’t know it until I lost her, but I had nothing to live for without Jules. There’s no possibility in this life that I’m going back to what I was before her.

  The idea that she could turn me in has barely even registered. It’s merely a passing thought that intrudes upon the images replaying in my head of seeing her walk away from me. The memories of her pushing against my chest, violently scratching and kicking me. Her screams that she hates me echo in my ears over and over.

  She doesn’t mean it. She can’t hate me. Not for that.

  I swallow thickly as I descend the stairs, gripping the railing and matching the pounding of my heart with the heavy thud of my bare feet.

  I can make it right. I can and I will. My palm is clammy as I hold the railing tighter.

  It’s a priority to figure out how to make her forget the past and remember her future is with me. I nod, envisioning how this was supposed to be. How it could have ended so beautifully.

  I check to make sure the front door’s locked as I pass the foyer, still completely trashed from our earlier struggle and head for the dining room, ignoring the mess.

  More importantly, I need to find out who the fuck knows what I did and if they have any evidence. That’s first. Jules needs time to cool off and while she does, I need to work out who sent that letter and why.

  Jules is angry, and I get that. Saying it was a shock is obviously an understatement. I flick on the light and my eyes are instantly drawn to the bar. To a vice I desperately need to lean on while I process my lack of grace at what I did to her.

  She was never meant to find out what happened. I was a different man then. If I’d known her at the time, I would have handled it differently. I would have ripped her away from that piece of shit and taken her for myself. In another life, perhaps it happened that way.

  But that’s not our reality.

  Picking up a glass from the rack on the edge of the bar, I remember the haunting look in her eyes; the glass clinks as the adrenaline in my blood begins to wane for the first time since seeing her face as she read the letter.

  I don’t know how to fix this. Every other trouble Jules has had has been easy to remedy. This… I know it’s unforgivable, but what she wants isn’t an option for us. I can’t go back to what I once had and who I used to be.

  I need her and she may not want to admit it right now, but she needs me. Deep down, she knows it’s true. This doesn’t change anything.

  She just needs time and so do I. I’ll figure out a way to keep her and make her happy
again. It’s not the first time I’ve destroyed her, I think as the bottom of the heavy glass hits the bar top.

  I crack my neck to the side as I hear her cry out again, sharp profanity echoing down the stairway and hall. Her voice is raw and hoarse, and I know the regret plagues her.

  A smirk lifts up my lips. She’s right, I must be sick. The thought that lingers is that she has to regret moving in with me. My house is on the edges of the city and in a secluded, remote location. If we were at her place, the neighbors would have heard everything, and the cops would have already been called. I’d be fucked.

  I give a small grin as I twist off the cap to the whiskey and slowly pour it into the tumbler. No one can hear her but me while we’re in here.

  I’m the only knight in shining armor she’s going to get.

  I bring the glass to my lips and the smile vanishes, my eyes drifting to the lit fireplace. She turned it on earlier, claiming it brings a warmth to the darkness in the dining room.

  Downing my whiskey and then raking my fingers through my hair, I let out a frustrated sigh over the sound of her screaming.

  She’s going to be sore and angry, and the marks on her wrists will need time to fade, but she’ll survive. She’ll get over it.

  Whoever wrote that note though, whoever tried to tear my sweetheart from me, that fucker won’t survive this. I grit my teeth as I slam the glass down and feel the burn of the liquor spread through my chest.

  The thought prompts me to head to the entryway. The rug is crooked from when I dragged Jules up the stairs, and the lamp on the hall table is on its side, but at least it’s not broken. My keys and wallet are still on the floor from when she knocked them off the table in her frantic attempt to hold on to something, anything to keep her from being taken upstairs.

  My eyes dart up to the wall behind the iron banister. A low hum of admonishment leaves me as I bend down to pick up the scattered items.