Resurrection of the Heart: A Sovereign Sons Novel Read online

  When I finally manage to open my eyes, I see the empty pillow beside me. The armchair across the room. And I know I’m home. In Santiago’s room. In his bed.

  He has his back to me. He’s standing just outside the open door, whispering to another man.

  I open my mouth to say something, but all that comes out is a croaking sound. My throat is so dry. But it’s enough because Santiago turns, and our eyes meet. He hurries to me, and all I can do is reach for him, hold on to him. My fingers curl into his shoulders, the nails broken, the skin of my wrists bruised as he sits on the edge of the bed, takes my face into his hands, and just looks at me for a long, long time.

  I think in the days we’ve been apart, he’s aged.

  Again, I try to speak, but I can't. He puts a glass to my lips. I sip the cool water but only manage a little.

  “You’re back,” he says, attempting a smile, and without warning, it’s as though a dam breaks. All the anxiety, the doubt, the fear comes pouring out of me in loud, ugly, choking sobs. He pulls my head into his chest, holding on to me. One big hand cups my head while the other rubs circles into my back.

  I cling to him. I cling as if I would die without him.

  “Did they...” I trail off.

  He draws back, shakes his head. “No. We were in time.”

  I suck in a sob. “Thank goodness.”

  The door clicks as someone closes it. He kisses my forehead, my cheeks, my mouth, all the while whispering that it will be all right. That I’m safe. The baby is safe. That we're home.

  Through the blur, I see his face, familiar and dark. I take it into my hands, feeling his warmth, the soft, scarred flesh, thumbs on lips, lips on lips, the salt of tears as we kiss. I push away his shirt, popping the buttons when I slide my hands underneath to touch him, needing his skin, needing to burrow closer, kissing him while my fingers brush over years-old scars. I want them to become familiar. I want to memorize them. To know the past the ink hides. To see the broken man hidden beneath.

  He draws back, but I pull at him. I need to be close. To touch him. To feel him.

  “I need you,” I manage.

  He hesitates, but a moment later, he slips the nightgown I’m wearing over my head. I’m naked and shivering until he takes me into his arms again, skin on skin, his shirt gone, ripped away, my hands on his face as I memorize his eyes, feel the stubble that grows on the un-inked side of his face. My gaze follows the path of my own hands over his neck, shoulders, chest as he lays me on my back and straddles me, keeping his weight on his forearms while my fingers trace over skin and scars and ink.

  I see the bandages that circle my wrists before I close my eyes and feel him kiss me, kiss my face, my neck, my breasts. I wrap my legs around him, wanting him inside me. Needing him inside me.

  He draws back just a little, eyes locked on mine, and I hear the buckle of his belt, the zipper of his pants, and then he’s at my entrance. I draw in a rattling breath, and I watch him as he pushes inside me, watch how his eyes shift, darken, pupils dilated, skin flushed, mouth open just a little as he dips his head down to kiss me, gentle at first, then as the fucking grows more frantic, teeth scraping teeth as he says my name again and again like he needs this too, as much as I do.

  One hand wraps around the top of my head, and the other closes over my shoulder. His eyes lock on mine with the final thrusts, and when we come, it’s a deep, slow thing, not frantic, not hurried, neither of us taking but instead giving, and I feel tears again sliding down over my temples when he kisses me, the thudding organ inside my chest not twisting but something else, something different.

  I draw a shuddering breath, look at the top of his dark head as he bows it into the crook of my neck, his breathing labored, cock still throbbing inside me. I bite my lip so hard when the words come that I taste the copper of blood to swallow them back and shove them down. And when he looks back up at me, something’s inside his eyes I can’t name, and I wonder what he’s swallowed down. If it’s lodged in his throat like the words are lodged in mine. And I think how sad we are. Even now.

  Santiago rolls to lie beside me, our heads on one pillow, face-to-face. He brushes my hair back, wiping away stray tears, and here come those words again, that choking emotion. They want out, but I swallow hard.

  Because I can’t say them.

  Because I can’t love him.

  “Did you come for the baby?” I ask instead. It’s important we’re clear. We’re each where we belong and know where we stand, even if it hurts.

  He looks confused, and it takes a moment for him to reply as if he’s considering. “I came for you.”

  7

  Ivy

  Santiago doesn’t leave my side. After bathing me and helping me dress, he stands at the wall, arms folded across his chest, watching as the doctor asks me questions and explains what they’d injected me with. A muscle relaxer rather than an anesthetic, albeit a strong one.

  Santiago snorts when this doctor uses the term doctor about that other man. “He was no more a doctor than I am. More like a piece of shit.”

  “It wasn’t harmful to you or the baby. That’s the most important thing,” the doctor continues after clearing his throat. He turns my head to study the bruise at my temple. “You were lucky.”

  “Lucky?” Santiago interrupts again. “I’m not sure I’d call her lucky.”

  “I meant any damage will heal.” He smiles, giving me a wink. He takes a card out of his pocket and sets it on the nightstand. “If you need anything or have questions, I’m available day and night to the members of The Society.”

  He’s a Society doctor.

  “We want our members to feel safe and well cared for, and you certainly are, Ivy. Especially during such an important time.” I guess he means the pregnancy.

  I glance at Santiago. His hair is still wet from the shower, but he’s dressed in a fresh white button-down and dark slacks and looks more like himself. It makes me smile a little. He’ll be a cantankerous old man, I think.

  He shifts his gaze to me and momentarily appears puzzled by my expression, but then there’s a knock on the door, which is open just a little, and to my surprise, Eva peers inside.

  “Eva!”

  She pushes the door wide open and gives me a big smile that shows all her teeth as she hurries to hug me even tighter than she had at the hospital. I hear her sniffle and rub her back.

  “I’m so glad you’re safe and home,” she says, voice quiet so only I can hear her.

  “Me too.”

  I look at Santiago over her shoulder and gesture to the door. I know he understands I’m asking him to give me a minute with my sister, but he just carries on talking to the doctor like he doesn’t, so I clear my throat as Eva pulls away.

  “Can you give us a minute?” I ask outright.

  The doctor smiles. “Of course. I need to be going. If you need anything, just call.”

  “Thank you,” I say and shift my gaze to Santiago, who just keeps on standing there. “Why don’t you walk the doctor out? I promise I’ll be right here when you get back.”

  He shifts his gaze to Evangeline, who I can see is smiling, then back to me. “Fine,” he says, but he sounds far from fine. “I’ll be right back.” They head out a moment later, Santiago making a point to leave the door open.

  “He’s sweet, I guess. In his own weird way,” Eva says.

  I’m confused. “Santiago?”

  She nods.

  “Sweet?”

  “You should have seen him when you were missing. He was really worried about you.”

  That makes me smile. I want to believe it’s true.

  “I came for you.”

  A thought niggles at the back of my mind. Did he just say that because I’m pregnant? Because he doesn’t want to upset me for fear of something happening to the baby? I can’t forget the days leading up to the hospital. I can’t pretend they didn’t happen.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Evangeline asks, dragging my attention back to t
he present.

  I try to smile and nod. “What are you doing here?”

  “Your husband took me as collateral,” she says hesitantly.

  “He did what?”

  “It’s not as bad as it sounds. I mean, what’s the alternative? Being at home with Mom? At least here, there are people to talk to like him or Antonia. She’s nice. She was super worried too, Ivy.”

  “You talk to him?”

  “Mm-hmm. He’s crazy in love with you, you know.”

  My mouth falls open, and I’m about to ask what she’s talking about when Santiago is back standing in the doorway. “Antonia has dinner for you in the kitchen, Evangeline. French fries and some other crap you should enjoy tonight because you won’t be having it anymore. Not under my roof.”

  Eva looks at me, rolls her eyes, and gets to her feet. “Want me to bring you some?”

  “Ivy will not be eating that. Thank you,” Santiago answers for me.

  “I got you covered,” she mouths with a wink, then gets up and leaves the room.

  Santiago watches her go, then closes the door. “She’s something else.”

  “She is. Would you mind explaining how she came to be here?”

  “Would you prefer she wasn’t? I can send her home, but considering your brother is still out there, I didn’t think you’d want that.”

  “Did you kidnap her?”

  “Kidnap is a big word. I…” He considers. “Borrowed her.”

  “Hm.”

  “And I’ve treated her with kid gloves.”

  “She thinks you’re sweet.”

  His eyebrows rise high on his forehead.

  “Exactly. Where’s my brother, Santiago?”

  He comes to sit on the bed. “You don’t have to worry about him. He won’t hurt you again. He won’t get near you ever again.” His expression darkens.

  “Did you do something to him?” I ask when I remember the scene I glimpsed as he carried me out of that house.

  He sets his jaw and studies me. “I’m going to ask you something, and I want the truth.”

  I nod.

  “Did you run because you wanted to get rid of the baby? Is that why your brother arranged for that idiot doctor?”

  “What?”

  “I know how you feel about me, and honestly, I don’t blame you. Having my baby inside you—”

  “Our baby. It’s our baby. Stop calling our baby yours!”

  “Fine. Our baby. It doesn’t change the fact that it’s not what you wanted.”

  I stop to consider this. He’s right. I wouldn’t have chosen a pregnancy, not right now. But I am pregnant. And things are different. Everything is different.

  I reach out and touch his arm only to feel his muscles tense when I do. “I never wanted to get rid of our baby. Not for a minute. That was Abel. And I don’t know. Maybe he thought he was helping me in his warped mind. Maybe I gave him the impression even—”

  “Don’t you dare take the blame for what your brother did and do not make excuses for him.”

  “I don’t know. I mean, when I called him, I was scared. But Santiago, I already love this baby. It was never my intent to hurt him or her.”

  He remains silent, face unreadable.

  “Did you hurt Abel?”

  He shakes his head. “Not yet.”

  I’m relieved. Should I be? I mean, maybe Abel did get that doctor thinking I wanted it. But the zip ties? Those men? I can’t think about that right now. “Did you mean what you said?” I ask Santiago before I can stop myself.

  “What did I say?”

  “That you came for me? Not just for the baby.”

  He studies me, a momentary flicker of emotion in his eyes, a single second of something I can’t quite name there. “You would rather have died than stay with me.”

  I look down, unable to hold his gaze. Because I know what that emotion is. It’s hurt.

  It takes all I have to look back up at him. “I just wanted you to come for me. With the aspirin, I mean. I didn’t think it through. I didn’t…when Colette told me you have my father—”

  “Ah. Colette.”

  “I just…I felt betrayed. After everything that happened, the progress we’d made, you were keeping that from me. And you never came back, Santiago. For days after you got that call, you didn’t even call or talk to me. I got angrier the longer I waited, and I was going to confront you, but then I saw the sheet, the stupid bloody sheet, and I remembered what you said you’d do with it on our wedding night. That you’d show it to my father. I was burning it. Not the pictures of your father or brother. I went out to the chapel so no one would find me to stop me. And then you got so angry. What you did…” I feel my face heat, and I can’t hold his gaze. “And then locking me in my room.” I look up at him. “You can’t do that anymore. I can’t stand that. Punish me any other way but not that again. If—”

  “I won’t.” He cuts me off.

  “I’m just…if I’m going to stay, I won’t be put back in that room.”

  “If?”

  “I mean it. I can’t do that again, Santiago. Send me away if you can’t stand to see me, and when the baby comes, we can work something out—”

  “Are you completely daft?”

  “What?”

  “Or just hard of hearing?” He takes my hands in his. “I came for you. For you.”

  I swallow hard.

  “You are my wife, Ivy.”

  “In name.”

  “No. Not in name. Not anymore. Not for either of us. And you know it.” There is a long moment of silence between us before he continues. “What exactly did Colette tell you?”

  Shoot. “I don’t want to get her into trouble.”

  “What did she tell you?”

  “Nothing. She just thought I knew that you’d taken over my father’s care. Have you?”

  “How did she know that?”

  “This isn’t about Colette, Santiago. Did you take over my father’s care?”

  He nods.

  “How long ago?”

  “Since my poisoning. Your father was poisoned too, Ivy. That’s what caused him to go into cardiac arrest and eventually a coma. Someone tried to kill him, and I can guess who.”

  I feel the blood drain from my face. “You think it’s Abel? You think he tried to kill our father?”

  He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It doesn’t make sense.”

  "Doesn’t it?”

  I shift my gaze momentarily away, then back to him. “How is he? My dad?”

  “Awake. Alert. But weak.”

  “Can I see him?”

  “In time.”

  “What happened between you? Why do you hate him? Hate us?”

  He winces at that last part. It’s just a twitch, but I see it. “Chambers is dead,” he says instead of answering me. He stands.

  “Chambers?” It takes me a moment to place him. “When? How?”

  “Found his body a few days ago. His maid too. And his family is missing. You and your sister will stay inside The Manor at all times. I’ll arrange for her schooling until she can return to classes. Your brother—”

  “You think Abel killed him?”

  Santiago stops pacing, looks at me like he’s waiting for me to catch up.

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “As bad as Abel is, he’s not a killer.” But then I remember the lipstick. “Oh my god.”

  “The poison that was used to poison me came from the tube of lipstick I found on the driveway of the house Hazel took me to. Abel’s safe house. I’m still trying to make sense of the things we found inside, all those files, names of my—”

  “Wait, Hazel? What? When?”

  Just as I ask, his phone rings. He checks the display, swipes, and puts the phone to his ear. “I’ll call you back.” He disconnects.

  “Where’s Hazel?”

  “Hazel and her son live in Oakdale. They’re safe. I
have a man watching the house.”

  “Her son? She has a son, and they’ve been in Oakdale all this time?”

  “You’re getting worked up, and I need to return a call. We can continue this conversation after you’ve rested.”

  “I’m not tired.”

  “You need your strength. Not just for yourself but for the baby. I promise to tell you more, but I won’t risk your health or that of my child.” He stops as if he’s just caught himself. “Our child,” he modifies, and it somehow soothes me. He must see it because he sits back down and adjusts the pillows, easing me onto my back. “Rest. We’ll have dinner together later.”

  I bite the inside of my lip. “Who do you have to call?”

  “Society business.” He leans down to kiss me on the forehead. “Sleep, sweet Ivy. And trust me to take care of you.”

  8

  Santiago

  "Santiago?" Judge answers the other line on the second ring.

  "Sorry, I've been getting my wife settled back in,” I explain. “I’m back in my office now.”

  I take a seat at my desk and stare at the bottle of scotch that's been taunting me. It would be nice to have a drink after the past two days, but I don't want to risk it. Not when Ivy's safety is in question. I won't let my guard down for even a second.

  "How is she doing?" Judge asks, polite but seemingly not too concerned. He doesn't foster attachments to useless emotions for people he barely knows. And I have to remind myself that I am much the same, and I shouldn't take offense.

  "She's tired," I tell him. "She needs rest, but the doctor assures me she's going to be fine. The baby too."

  "All well and good," he says. "I'm assuming the paperwork that was hand-delivered to my desk today is something you'd like to discuss."

  "Yes." I glance at the clock on the wall, realizing he's still at work. Marco didn't waste any time.

  "Where did these files come from?"

  "Eli has a safe house. A place Abel has been using for his own purposes apparently. It's in his mother's name, so it wasn't ever connected to The Society. Ivy had been hiding..." I clear my throat and cringe at that word. "Staying there during her absence. I sent Marco to search the place for anything useful, and he produced these files."