Author: Pepper Winters

I nodded, eternally grateful that I wouldn’t have to enter the dwelling where Clara had died. There was nothing foreboding about this place. It looked welcoming, pristine. A fresh beginning.

Turning off the ignition, Fox said, “We’re home.”

I froze in my seat as a rainbow of emotion filled me: happiness, heartache, hope—all overshadowed by grief. Clara would never see this. She’d never know the massive impact she had on this man.

Turning to face him, I whispered, “I don’t understand.”

Fox gave a half smile and climbed out of the car. Coming around the bonnet, he opened my door and helped me clamber upright. “There’s a lot you won’t understand until I grow some balls and tell you. What I shared in my basement is nothing compared to the involved story—but for now, all you need to know is I bought this two days ago. The moment I found the piece of land for Clara, I found the perfect house for us. I couldn’t return to the club. I need to get away from violence—to try and fix myself once and for all.”

He’d done so much—all behind the scenes while I’d cried myself into a stupor.

“What did you do with Obsidian?”

He smiled. “I sold it to Oscar. He practically ran it himself anyway. I’ve sold it to him for a rock bottom price.” He laughed. “Let’s just say he got a steal.”

My eyes widened at the joviality—so odd coming from Fox. “What steal?”

Aliveness flashed in his eyes for the first time. “I made him give me ten dollars and an oath that he will never talk to me about it, or mention the name Obsidian Fox again, and the club was all his.”

My mind whirled. How could he do that? How much wealth did he have? My eyes narrowed, trying to decipher the conundrum in front of me. “Just who are you?”

He shrugged. “Do you want the long story or the short story?”

Oh, God. I didn’t know if I should be terrified or excited to find out every skeleton in his closet. “Short story, for now.”

“I’m wealthy. From an inheritance.” His jaw twitched—the only sign that it was a painful subject for him. “I can take care of you. I want to take care of you.”

I swallowed.

Fox reached out and dragged me close. His arms wrapped around my waist, forcing my hands to rest on his chest to keep my balance. Every part of me froze; my fingers itched to grab my hair-clip knife, just in case.

His nostrils flared and his face darkened, but he didn’t regress or terrify me. Bowing his head, he pressed his forehead against mine. “You asked me who I am. My name is Roan Averin. Forget you ever knew a man named Fox. He wasn’t a man. He was the product of a past he hated. I never thought I’d be able to use my full name again, but I want to. I want a new beginning. With you.”

My heart broke open and grew wings.

“Roan Averin.” The name sounded sweet on my tongue. A world apart from Obsidian Fox. “I like it.”

He huffed, body tensing as I trailed my fingertips up his chest to his throat.

“Can I?” I murmured, very aware of every muscle tightening inside him.

He squeezed his eyes, nodding.

Slowly, I grazed my fingers along his smooth jaw and cupped his cheeks. He trembled in my hold. Standing on tiptoe, I brushed the lightest of kisses over his lips. His forehead furrowed; teeth clenched.

The innocent kiss reminded me of how delicate he was with Clara, and I struggled to hold onto the moment where grief didn’t interrupt.

I dropped my hands and backed out of his grip. “It will get easier. You’ll see. I’ll help you.”

Am I talking about missing Clara or his condition?

He nodded. “I know. As long as I have you, I can get better. Just please, remember to call me Roan. It will help.”

I knew it would be hard to stop calling him Fox. It was the name of the man I fell for. But I saw how important it was to him. Fox had died with whatever he’d done in Russia, and I needed to obey his wishes to put the past where it belonged.

My eyes fell to the star in the hollow of his throat. “She could always see who you really were. She was so much better than me. Always saw the best in people. So trusting. Too trusting.” I had to stop as my throat closed, and my heart thudded a painful staccato.

Fox’s eyes glowed. “You were the same. I recognised something I needed in you the second I saw you. I didn’t know what it was, but stealing your knife and marching you up those steps was the best fucking thing I’ve done in my entire life.”

I laughed softly, trembling as he captured my chin. “You’ll never lose her, Zel. We’ll never stop talking about her or keeping her alive in our thoughts.”

Pulling away, he shoved a hand into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Handing it to me, he said, “Seeing as I’ve put so much in the past, to begin anew—this belongs to you.”

I took it, frowning. I opened the handwritten contract between Obsidian Fox and Hazel Hunter. My heart swooped and I met his eyes.

Roan murmured, “Tear it up. That man no longer exists.”

He was asking me to rip up the past. Walk away from everything bad that had happened and embrace a future together.

With trembling fingers, I obeyed. The sound of shredding paper echoed off the garage walls.

Roan went to take my hand, but I pulled back. “Wait.”

I bit my lip as I reached into my dress pocket and pulled out the thing I was terrified of. The thing I’d stolen from Fox the day I knocked him out with the small wolf statue on his side-board. Nestled in a piece of tissue paper sat the blue pill.

I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it was poison. I also knew Fox had moments of weakness where he might’ve done something irreversible.

I stole it to prevent him doing something recklessly stupid.

“Here. This belongs to you.”

Grabbing it, he unwrapped the suicide pill. His face darkened; eyes narrowed. “Why the fuck do you have this?” Anger blazed across his features. “Do you know how dangerous this is? What the hell were you think—” Then panic replaced his fear and his fingers dug into my elbow. “You weren’t going…please tell me you weren’t thinking of using this. For fuck’s sake, Zel. What were you going to do?”

I jerked back, hot temper filling me at his wrong conclusion. “You thought I’d be weak enough to kill myself? How could you think that? I may have lost my daughter, but I haven’t lost my mind!”

“Then why do you have it?” Roan bundled up the tissue, clenching his fist.

“Because I didn’t want to walk in on you dead. I hated the thought that you couldn’t stomach living and would rather commit the biggest treason of all and kill yourself. I stole it from you as I didn’t want you to die!”

He moved forward a step, crowding me. “It still doesn’t explain what it’s doing in your fucking pocket.”

I shouted right in his face. “Ever since I took it, I’ve been terrified of it. I didn’t know what to do.” The relief that came with no longer being responsible for such a dangerous thing quietened my anger. “I kept it taped to the underside of my bed to prevent anyone finding it by mistake. It haunted me, and I don’t want the responsibility anymore. I want you to destroy it.”

Without saying a word, Roan grabbed my hand and stalked toward the door leading into the house. He jangled a set of keys, trying to find the right one, never letting go of my hand. The moment he unlocked the door, he dragged me down the corridor and to a bathroom off a room that looked like a shadowed cinema.

The immaculate ensuite looked like a show home ready for viewing. Fluffy turquoise towels with sparkling silver tiles were so different to the black facilities at Obsidian.

“Can’t believe you’ve been walking around with this in your pocket.” Flipping open the lid of the toilet, he threw the tissue and pill into the basin. Flushing it, he snapped, “There. Gone. Now Fox is really dead, and it’s about fucking time you met Roan.”

I squealed as he scooped me off my feet and carted me up the wide white stairs to the second floor. I couldn’t see much in the whirlwind of speed, but everywhere I looked was white. Not one inch of black.

Kicking a door open, he prowled inside and gave me exactly one second to glance around the room.

White king-size bed covered in silky pillows that looked like pristine clouds. The huge expanse of glass welcomed the sand dunes and sea inside. The carpet was white, the bedside tables and small sitting area white.

Everywhere I looked white, white, white.

And then all I saw was black as Roan threw me on the bed and crushed me against the softness of duck down. I moaned as his body heat smothered me and for one joyous moment I let go of my grief and thought only of him. This man who’d turned my world upside down, back to front, inside out.

His hands went to the little pearl buttons of my dress, fumbling with the dainty buttonholes. His breathing accelerated, and he growled in frustration. His touch brought me crawling out of the fog of sorrow and latching onto life.

I grabbed the back of his head, whispering in his ear. “Tear it off. I never want to wear it again.”

“Thank God,” he groaned. His hands bunched the material and tore. The dress went from encasing my body to being ripped into pieces, laying scattered like death on all the perfect whiteness. His eyes dropped to my black underwear. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

He bent over me, biting the swell of my breast with gentle teeth. “I’m going to love you every day. I’ll never get enough of these.” He cupped my breasts, brushing my pebbled nipples with his thumbs. “I’ll never get enough of this.” His right hand trailed down my stomach to cup between my legs.

I moaned as the possessive heat of his palm sent mini explosions in my blood.

My body welcomed the energy Roan conjured, but my mind skittered away. It was wrong to focus on myself. So wrong to thrill in life when Clara no longer had any.

I can’t do this.

I froze.

Roan’s hand dropped from me and he exhaled heavily. “Fuck. I’m an asshole.”

“No, you’re not.” I shook my head, cursing the trickle of tears seeping from my eyes. Would I ever be able to stomach the thought that Clara was no longer in my world?

Roan scooted backward, bringing me with him. I stood on my black dress and something sharp poked the bottom of my foot.

Bending to rub my sole, I found the My Little Pony badge from the funeral. I picked it up; the girlish horse design swirled with my tears.

My insides twisted until I no longer knew how to live. My heart had to relearn how to beat. My mind had to come to terms with loss. My body had to prepare itself to bring more life into the world.

There was too much. Too much sensation. Life was moving too fast, putting distance between me and Clara every second.

I looked up at Roan, begging him to fix it.

“Shit, Zel.” He dragged me against him and held me tight. His warmth helped comfort but at the same time reminded me Clara was no longer warm. I’d stolen her heat as she grew cold in my arms in his office.

My heart squeezed until I couldn’t breathe.

How can I move on when the guilt will kill me?

I didn’t know how long we stood there. But Roan never stopped stroking my hair. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be so strong. Let go. I’m here.” His voice soothed me, rough and masculine. He didn’t pull away, despite the damp patch growing beneath his shirt from the stress of holding me.

Finally, when my silent shudders had stopped, he disappeared and came back with a white bathrobe from the bathroom. Wrapping me tight, concealing my half-nakedness, he asked, “Can I show you something? It might make it a little easier.” His voice hitched. “Or it might make it fucking worse. I don’t know. I second guessed myself the entire time I did it.”