Page 95 of Unmasked

The facts were the facts, and Vaughn had the videos to prove them.

I was poisoned: with or without King Lawrence’s order.

Our men were murdered… by him.

My child—Vaughn’s child… though briefly alive within me, was gone.

As Vaughn kissed against my fingertips, staring into my eyes, I couldn’t ignore that King Lawrence had possibly done that, too.

The king rarely left my mind. I hated it. There was too much I didn’t understand. Too many questions I needed to get to the bottom of.

Had he given the order to make me sick? Were all those flashes of intimate moments real? If he knew about Vaughn, about the baby, why was I alive? Why not keep me to lure Vaughn out?

The questions were going to drive me insane. There was no peace amid our tumultuous grief. It was demanding with its pain. But then there was… suspicion. Hinting. Nagging. My guilt of King Lawrence picking apart my resolve as I tried to face it all. And what about the anger I knew would come once I told Vaughn? He didn’t know what I feared, and I was scared to tell him.

“I don’t want this to end.” Vaughn’s words were soft, but his eyes were far from it. They were intense. Forever watchful now. Claiming, even in his most unguarded moments. “It’s been almost a week.” His hand lifted to brush back my hair. I pulled back before I could stop myself. It wasn’t the first time, and Vaughn didn’t miss it again as his lids narrowed the smallest amount.

Silence passed between us, but I knew he was waiting, just as he’d done before. I hadn’t been ready then… I wasn’t sure I was ready now.

What was real? What wasn’t?

I held to the questions, weighing them. Vaughn’s face flickered as he took in mine. He was reading me. Studying my every move.

“Vaughn, we need to talk.”

“I agree.”

“I don’t want you to be mad.”

“At you?”

My mouth opened, only to close. “I don’t know.”

His gripped tightened on my hand. I looked down between us at our hold to each other.

A long moment passed before I began. “My… memory during that time.” I paused, trying to find the right words. “There are things I remember, but I don’t know if they’re real.” I took in the slight drop of his lids. Anger, but he kept quiet. “The first thing I remember after passing out on the plane’s bathroom floor was talking. King Lawrence was.” I stopped, searching through a sludge of colors. “He was holding me, close, in his arms. He was talking, but I can’t remember what he said. I awoke again when we entered Glenbrae. I remember Lord Summerlyn rushing towards us. I was fighting the king, trying to go to Summerlyn, but the king wouldn’t let me go.”

My lids lowered and the scene was barely there anymore.

“I remember the blood. I remember screaming. They were taking off my clothes. I was calling for Lord Summerlyn while he was arguing with the king. He was trying to convince him to allow him to help me. He hid the brand as they were checking me. But then… nothing.”

I opened my eyes, seeing a pain in Vaughn’s gaze that made me feel sick.

“I don’t know how long after that that I awoke again. I’m not sure I ever fully did. What I remember was an awareness of the darkness… and him. He.” I stopped, giving my head a hard jerk as to deny what I somehow knew. “He was brushing back my hair. Talking to me. He’d…” My hand reached up, touching along my cheek. “He’d trace here, moving down to my lips. He’d whisper something and—” My eyes jumped back up to Vaughn’s. “Kiss me. Soft but… sometimes harder. I couldn’t fight him off or push him away. Sometimes he’d…” I moved my hand to my chin, supporting and feeling him all over again. “Hold. Not hard but secure. Or angle my face to his. He’d hold my hands together at my waist. He kept tracing down my body. Fixing my feet. My hands. And my hair. Always brushing back my hair. I can’t remember waking up without him being there. Without him touching or kissing me.”

Tears left me, falling over the bridge of my nose towards the bed.

“And then I woke up… to no one. To nothing. Did my mind invent it all? I feel so dirty. So guilty.”

“No.” Vaughn’s head shook, and he leaned forward, pressing his lips into mine. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I went. This will always be my fault.”

“And I let you go. I could say the same thing. I’ve held you against your will before. I could have done it again.”

My eyes rolled, but his hand slid to my cheek, holding secure.

“Do you see how pointless it is to blame ourselves? We both have an argument. Maybe we’re both at fault. Holding to the guilt will benefit neither of us. As impossible as it seems right now, we’re going to have to move passed this. It happened. We can’t change it.”