Amber and Blue II Victory

Lucien's Pain

Son of a bitch! A large framed painting rattled against the wall before it smashed to the bedroom floor. In the hallway, a furious man rammed the door with his shoulder, I'll kill you—you little bastard!

It's my husband, the woman whispered. You have to get out of here.

Your husband? Lucien threw on his pants and grabbed his shirt and shoes from the floor. I thought he was out of town.

He was supposed to be.

Damn it! Where are my keys? Lucien slung the comforter from the mattress, but finding nothing, he dropped to the floor. He slid his arm under the bed, spread his fingers across the dusty hardwood, and found them, just as the door splintered and cracked from the man's repeated blows. Lucien jumped to his feet, stumbled to the window, and stopped. He turned to the woman and winked. "It's been fun, ma chérie."

The second floor jump hurt like hell when he crashed in a heap on the sidewalk below. He staggered to his feet and dragged a throbbing ankle with him as he limped, shirtless, and shoeless to his bike. He slid on his helmet, fired up his motorcycle, and looked back. The man burst through the back door and charged across the lawn after him.

Lucien spun back the throttle and popped the clutch. The engine screamed when the bike's torque yanked the wheel from the pavement. The enraged man became a speck in his mirror, and left far behind as Lucien vanished from sight.

The speed felt good, and the wind against his chest made him feel alive, but feeling alive meant feeling pain. When he finally arrived at his apartment, he hobbled inside and headed straight for the shower. His doctor would chew his ass if he knew what he’d been up to. Although his chest wound had healed, it was still sore and tender, and a jump to the pavement was not what the doctor had ordered. Still soaked from the shower, he fell onto his bed, rolled over, and let his eyes close.

When he opened them, she was there by his side. Grace?

Touching her finger against his lips, he fell silent. He pulled her nude body against his and rolled her beneath him. He lost himself in her thick chestnut hair and pressed his lips to her neck.

For a moment, he hovered above her. Iridescent beads of moisture rolled from the ends of his loose wet hair and splashed on the base of her throat. With deep carnal pleasure, he groaned, when her soft slim legs wrapped around his waist. She pinned him to her; demanding and impatient.

He gave her what she wanted.

Slipping his hot wet chest across her skin, he ground a slow rhythm against her. The red burning lines she clawed down his back felt good, and spurred him faster. Her hungry response fueled his uncontrolled urge and his primal need for release. Shuddering, she cried out his name when his life exploded within her. Collapsing in her arms, he caught his breath, and lay quiet. He was lulled by the beat of her heart in her chest but it felt like it pumped in his own.

She gave him life.

They lay still for only a minute before she started to writhe beneath him.

More, she whispered.

He closed his eyes, nuzzled her close, and smiled. "I love you so much, Grace. I'll never, ever, let you go."

He opened his eyes—but he was alone.

Damn it!

Frustrated, he jumped to his feet and scraped his fingers across his scalp. He took a few short agonized steps, snatched a glass from the nightstand, and smashed it against the wall. The dreams had begun after André shot him. They were beautiful, vivid, and real while he slept, but when he woke, the memory of them lingered like torturous nightmares. No matter what he did, their torment continued. He buried himself in school and work with no relief. At the same time, he sought release in woman after woman.

Some of them wanted to tame him, others just wanted to play, but in the end, they were all left cold.

None of them were her.

None would ever compare.

His bad reputation soon followed. The men admired him, of course—they called him a lucky bastard. The women called him a dog, a pig, and a creep. He didn't see Grace often, but when he did, he felt ashamed. She never said a word but he could see it in her eyes—she had heard.

Something had to give.

His phone buzzed and dredged him from his miserable thoughts. He closed his eyes and prayed it was her—but it wasn't.

Hello?

Hello, brother.

Jacques! Lucien’s mood immediately lightened. It's good to hear from you.

And how goes your recovery?

It's going well. I'm almost back to my old self.

Good to hear, Jacques said. Would you feel up to a bit of traveling?

Traveling? Where?

Father wants to see you.

Lucien hesitated before he replied. Jacques—

He holds nothing against you, Lucien, or the girl. Neither do I. You know that.

Why does he need to see me?

He wouldn't go into detail. He only said it was business.

He needs me to scout?

I don't know, he replied. But he's grown weary of late. The stress of André's death has taken its toll on his health. Trust me, brother, he wants nothing but closure.

As do I.

But I must warn you, Jacques continued, my mother's family is not so forgiving. Their anger burns deep and they may seek revenge.

Ah—so they want my head?

No, Jacques said. They want hers.

******

Chapter 2

Alex's Pleasure

The dense churning storm sucked light from the day. Thunder crashed through the hills in deep baritone waves and rattled the church on its weathered foundation. The low lights flickered and silently clicked into darkness. Looking up from his books, the pastor waited—nothing. A spark lit his face as the candle caught fire and he placed it on top of his pulpit. Alone with his work, he put his head down and continued writing. He had to finish his sermon tonight.

Loud banging followed a lull in the thunder. It shook the faded front door on its hinges and startled the kindly old pastor.

Who in the world could be out in this kind of storm? He pulled himself away from his books and hobbled up the isle on age worn legs. The incessant pounding continued, and prodded his limbs to move faster. I'm coming! I'm coming—hold on!

Lightening flashed when he swung the door open. The silhouette of a large muddy figure eclipsed the doorway. Alarmed, the pastor took a step back and then squinted to get a better look.

Alex? he asked. Is that you?

The imposing shadow stepped into the candle's warm glow. Yes, sir, Pastor Brown.

Stepping aside, a small dark haired young woman peeked out from behind him.

The pastor cracked the door wider. What in the world are you two doing out in this kind of weather? And how did you get so—muddy? Leaning outside, he took a quick look around. Is everything ok? Are you in some kind of trouble?

Alex smiled. No sir, we just got caught in the storm.

Well, come on in, out of the rain. I haven't seen you in ages. How’ve you been?

I've never been better, sir.

That's good to hear. The pastor smiled and patted him on the shoulder. What can I do for you?

Alex cleared his throat. Well, sir, umm, this is my fiancé, Grace—and we were wondering if, umm—

Will you marry us? Grace blurted.

Pastor Brown chuckled. Well of course I will. Come ... let's have a seat so we can talk. He led them to a nearby pew. All right, we'll have to make sure the date is available first. When would you like to have the—

Now, Alex said.

Now? You don't want a wedding ceremony, with your family, and friends?

No, sir. Alex glanced at Grace and smiled. We want to get married as soon as possible.

Do you have a license?

Alex frowned. I left the license at home. It’s a little old too—a year maybe. Will we need it—you know—before ..?

Well, the pastor said, I can marry you, but you can't sign any legal documents as a married couple. For instance, you can’t buy a house or a car under the same last name. But you can bring the license in later, and I reckon we can fill it out then.

Ok, Alex looked at Grace and squeezed her hand, let's do it.

***

The old mountain lodge bustled with activity, and curious heads turned when the big green camouflaged monster lumbered into the parking lot. When Alex turned off the truck, Grace flashed him a nervous smile.

I'll be right back.

He jumped from the cab, ran through the rain, and ducked into the office.

Grace stared at the ring on her finger and twisted it in slow circles. A few minutes passed before he reappeared, and jogged from the building.

I got a cabin. He climbed into the truck with a satisfied grin. It was the only one they had left. They didn't want to rent it because the air conditioning unit is being replaced with an underground system, but I convinced them.

How?

I begged and cried. He leaned back and chuckled. Is it ok—I mean—no air?

Grace gave him a fake puzzled look. Air? she asked. What's air?

***

A pitted gravel road meandered along a fresh crystal clear stream. The route weaved through the hills until it crossed over a one-lane bridge and finally ended near the porch of an isolated cabin. Nestled against a small ridge, the structure was hidden from view by a dense thicket of trees. On one side, the small creek curled into the mountains and disappeared behind a curtain of dark forest, while on the other, a green leafy landscape swept up toward the sky to end high above in a jagged rock cliff.

Look, Alex said when he turned off the truck.

A fresh sprinkle of rain splashed to the earth and a buck raised his head from the creek. It stared, flicked its white tail, and then with one swift leap disappeared into the forest.

Grace gasped. It was beautiful.

And delicious, Alex said with a teasing grin.

You wouldn't!

In a heartbeat.

His deep throaty chuckle sent a flush to her cheeks and her mind wandered.

You didn't know? he asked. You married a deer murderer.

Shamelessly, Grace ogled the man by her side. So rugged, and tough, with thick dark hair and gleaming blue eyes, yet he was so sweet, and loveable.

You're an adorable deer murderer.

Alex leaned across the seat and took her face in his hands. He barely touched his lips to hers; like the tickle of a breath, like the softness in a whisper. Without letting go, he moved closer, and pulled her into his lap. A sultry moan slipped from her lips when his strong warm hand slid up her thigh.

Without pulling away, he murmured, We should go inside.

Umm, hmm, she purred against his lips.

He didn't budge.

Instead, his voracious mouth crashed against hers. His searing kiss turned demanding and urgent and he pushed her back on the seat.

Oh God, he rasped between deep heavy breaths. He struggled to loosen his belt. You drive me insane.

Grace fought to control her own aching need. She wanted him, all of him, here and now, but she pulled away.

We have a cabin.

Alex bolted upright. And a bed! Don't move.

He jumped from the truck, ran around to her side, and lifted her down from the seat. They hurried through the dense pouring rain and up onto the porch. Fumbling with the keys, he unlatched the lock, and the thick plank door swung open. Grace started inside but Alex grabbed her hand.

Wait!

She looked at him, confused. Is something wrong?

I have to carry you over the threshold.

She stared up at him; starry eyed, breathless, and completely infatuated.

It's for good luck, he said.

Sliding her arm around his neck, he swept her up, before carrying her through the doorway.

Now where were we?

Before she could answer, he covered her mouth with his, and slammed the door closed with his foot. He staggered across the room, and fell to the bed on top of her.

Her senses heightened when her eyes slid closed. She longed to feel him, to smell him, to taste him. The weight of his chiseled, all male body, made her feel like a woman, as it pressed her into the bed. Strong hands blistered like fire up her dress. Her neck tingled from the brush of his hair on her skin. Her craving burned for the taste of his lips, fueled by his masculine scent.

Breathing deep, she sighed. Sandalwood and—mud.

Alex, she whispered against his lips, but engrossed, he didn't respond.

His mouth left hers and roamed down her neck, while he worked to unbutton her dress.

She forced her eyes open. Alex. She squirmed until finally he looked up. I really need a shower.

Hungry blue eyes stared down at her lips. He buried his face in the crook of her neck. Mmm ... I like mud.

But I want it to be perfect.

Nooo, he whimpered against her throat.

Grace giggled. I stink.

Lifting his tousled head, a roughish smile lit his face. Ok.

That was too easy.

I probably need one too. He rolled off the bed, onto his feet, and opened the window next to the nightstand. "It's