A cool breeze blew across the tops of the trees, the echo of the leaves rustling as a forewarning of an approaching storm. Despite the slight chill in the air, Mallory smiled as she increased her momentum, the hum of the life around her infusing her with more energy. For years, she’d jogged this path and knew it like she knew the back of her hand which made it easier for her to navigate. The twisty path had been a cause of concern for many in her tight knit group of friends but she assured them all that it wasn’t something she couldn’t handle. Unlike most people, she had a keen sense of direction and as she felt the wind shift, she changed her direction, tugging on the leash to get Rufus, her chocolate Labrador, to follow.

Grinning to herself, she increased her speed and reveled in the sensation of the heat of the sun streaming through the tall pines, their aroma tickling her senses. Her routine of running with Rufus had become a constant in her life and something she felt she couldn’t do without. It gave her a sort of peace. When disturbed, she felt the call of this tranquility and relished the solitude away from the fast pace and high expectations of the city. It was out here that she could be herself. To say her life had been a rollercoaster was an understatement. Her father left her mother when Mallory was just three years old and at nineteen, she suffered a traumatic incident that altered the trajectory of her future.  From the moment Mallory held a pencil, she wanted to be an artist. The passion to create flooded her veins and influenced every decision she made. That was until that fateful night.

  Memories of the past soon faded as she heard the trickling of a brook on her right, confirming the direction she had traveled. Slowing her pace, she pulled at Rufus’ leash to get him to stop completely. Taking in deep breaths, she bent at the waist and placed her hands on her knees in her attempt to slow her pulse. Running invigorated her and enabled her to face the day to day difficulties that populated her life. She was twenty-four and stable, yet she yearned for something more. Even though she had friends, she always felt as if she were alone, something she knew wasn’t going to change anytime soon. Most men wanted the total package, and while she knew she wasn’t lacking in looks or intelligence, there was one aspect of her life that was always the deal breaker.

Exhaling heavily, she stood upright and then tugged on Rufus’ leash once more, a soft smile easing over her lips. As another gentle breeze blew against her skin, she started off on a trot and then increased her pace, once again running at full speed. The sound of the alarm on her watch prompted her to go faster, realizing she only had an hour left to get home, shower and get down to the studio before the business day started. The hands of time continued to turn, and Mallory knew full well she would have to keep turning with them.

Rory McInnis gazed forlornly out of the tinted glass of the limousine as it glided through the city, his thoughts on anything but what his partner and best friend, Tim, was saying. After a long and drawn out discussion, Rory determined that his new headquarters would have to be a place ripe for growth and he thought North Carolina was the perfect place for that.  Considered a median between the north and the south, North Carolina represented what his company, his vision was all about. He’d built his corporation from the ground up with the financial backing of the family’s enormous wealth yet he knew the value of a fighting chance. Whenever possible, he wanted to give people the chances that he never got and watch them flourish. After the economic downturn that had most of the financial world in upheaval, Rory knew what he had to do. And relocating the jewel of his empire to a quaint North Carolina town, as fool hardy as Tim thought it was, was just the thing to keep his legacy growing.

At thirty nine, Rory understood that time was running out and had all but given up on the notion of a normal life filled with a happy marriage and children.  Rory never had a hard time with scoring a date; his dark curly hair and warm chocolate brown eyes and lean body had tempted many a beautiful woman, but he never put much stock in committing to them. His good looks, money, and status were the attractant to most of the females he associated with but none of them took the time to uncover who he really was.  Most of his family comprised of first generation Irish immigrants who struggled just to survive. He was a hard worker and determined. His passion was reserved for his quest for success and although he had needs to be met, he never wasted his time in believing that the women in his circle believed in him. His mistress would always be success and he excelled at keeping his women separate from his destiny. Even though he wouldn’t have a family legacy to leave, his impact on the world would be felt.

The same couldn’t be said for his brother; at fifteen years younger, Declan had the carefree life that Rory aspired to but could never shuck his responsibilities for. Both were expected to strive for excellence and while Rory chose to capitalize on their advantages of the family wealth and attend an Ivy League college, Declan decided to go to a state college and experience all the decadence of college life. Even though they were brothers, they couldn’t be more opposite.  Rory envied Declan because of his freedom but ultimately, he knew that what he was building would be worth the sacrifice.

Sacrifice happiness for a secure future.

Yeah, right.

Exhaling heavily, Rory brought his attention back to the conversation and frowned as he caught Tim’s last word, “Wait a minute, back up. Did you just say that Valerie will be at the studio opening? What in the world for? She has no interest in the arts, especially what she calls ‘hick crap’.”

Tim grinned and shook his head as he thumbed through the tablet, “She’s confirmed with the owner of the gallery, Rory. I think she wants to make an impression.” Eyeing his friend, he snickered, “On you the most. She’s circling, my friend. There’s blood in the water. She heard about your split with Imogene.”

Rory ran his hands through his silky curls and groaned, “I got rid of Imogene because she was becoming too needy; she wanted a commitment, I just wanted a no strings attached sex romp. I told her that before we even started.”

“And still the same, she fell for you- just like Valerie.” Tim turned to Rory more and narrowed his brow, “You know how potent you are to women; they see your wealth, your good looks, and your eternally single status and think ‘I’m going to be the one who snags him’. They allow their heart to get in the way.”

“Which is their first mistake,” Rory answered adroitly as he straightened the cuffs of his shirt. It wasn’t his fault what his women thought about their relationships, especially after he laid down the ground rules. Every lady knew that tangling with Rory McInnis was bad for the heart. He couldn’t help the power he held over them, only welcomed them to his bed and then kicked them out when they   became more of a liability than a benefit. They all saw it coming and that reasoning made it easier for Rory to sleep at night.

Tim watched his best friend for a moment before returning his gaze to the tablet, confirming Rory’s schedule for the day. His brow lifted as he exhaled lightly, “Some little lady is going to knock you off of your high horse, Rory, and you won’t see it coming.”

Rory chuckled darkly and glanced out at the passing scenery, “Yeah, well, when that day comes, Tim, I’ll gladly hand you the reigns of my empire. Now, tell me, what’s on the agenda today?”

“We have to stop by A Sketch in Time; Meredith forgot to confirm one last artist. She says that this lady has the goods and the following. The locals love her.” Tim typed a brief message on the tablet before glancing up at Rory, “Meredith thinks it will be good for your reputation to do a little footwork.”

“My mother also believes that she’ll marry me off before I hit forty,” Rory quipped as he brought a glass of juice to his lips. Chuckling, he continued, “I’m sorry to hurt her feelings but…”

The limo stopped abruptly, causing Rory to spill the juice on his suit. Glaring at the partition angrily, he pressed a button and roared, “JAKE! What the hell is your problem?”

Holding on to the wheel tightly, Jake watched the young woman cross the street with a large brown dog, “A pedestrian, and sir. She just stepped out in front of me. I just barely missed her.”

Rory attempted to wipe at the mess and exhaled warily, “You didn’t hit the poor woman, did you, Jake. That’s the last thing I need.”

“No, no sir. She’s fine. She made it across the street.”

Rory depressed another button and looked out of the window, spotting a young woman with a dog in tow. From his vantage point, he could make out her slim body, long hair, and caramel skin tone and felt an odd sense of familiarity. As the car crept forward, he kept his eyes on her retreating figure, his anger nearly boiling over. He had a meeting to get to after confirming the artist and didn’t see how he would have time to change. Just as they passed her completely, he frowned, yelling, “HEY! YOU! Are you blind?!”

 The limo sped away before the woman turned around and even though Rory was fuming, he still couldn’t shake the feeling of knowing her. Chalking it up to happenstance, Rory exhaled heavily as he pressed the button once more, his thoughts shifting quickly. As long as she hadn’t gotten hurt, he considered the issue done. He had more important things to do.

**

Entering the studio, Mallory heard the familiar tinkling of the bell situated above the door and smiled as Rufus led her to the counter.  The aroma of fresh pastry filled the air as she moved toward the back, as the faint sounds of a soft voice cursing met her ears. The angry rock music blaring from the speakers told Mallory one thing: the resident artist was worried.

Depositing her bag and tying Rufus’ leash, Mallory made her way toward the work room, pausing at the stereo system, her finger tips running over the controls. Already irritated by some douche bag driver, Mallory groaned as the throbbing sensation in her temples began to grow. Turning the music down, she winced and called out, “Jen! It’s too early for this!”

Emerging from the back room, Jennifer Moore wiped her hands and scowled in Mallory’s direction as she made her way to her friend’s side. Since meeting in college, Jen and Mallory had been inseparable; both were art students and both knew how it felt to be considered outsiders. Living in a conservative town like Greenfield, North Carolina hadn’t been kind to Jennifer; already hindered by her mixed heritage, she also faced opposition because she chose to buck the norm and fall in love with a woman. She hadn’t been very far into her freshman year at North Carolina University before she’d been targeted. Deciding an invisible life was better than suffering bouts of public humiliation; Jen regulated herself to the shadows and was surprised to find Mallory there with her.

They had become fast friends and looking back, Jen couldn’t say she regretted a moment of their burgeoning relationship. Mallory had stood by her through heartbreak after heartbreak, an attempted sexual assault by a group of drunken frat boys, and the death of her parents. Jen couldn’t imagine her life without her best friend, which is why as soon as they both graduated with honors, Jen used the money from her parent’s death to start her own studio and brought Mallory along.

A Sketch in Time had been a joint venture from the beginning and after a couple of years of a rocky start, it was now flourishing. With Mallory’s help, Jen’s pieces were starting to fly off the shelves and  now with the addition of a spot in the art showcase sponsored by the insanely handsome billionaire, Rory McInnis, Jen knew it would only be a matter of time before they both reaped the benefits.

Tossing the rag down, Jen took a seat on a stool and watched as Mallory navigated the work area, her slim fingers lightly tracing over the surface. Jen was always awestruck at how deft her friend’s touch had been and how she overcame the impossible to reach her dreams. Even though Mallory wasn’t working on anything at the moment, Jen was sure that it was only a matter of motivation. Artists worked on motivational demand and Jen knew the moment Mallory found her motivation once again, she would create beautiful pieces.

Reaching for a crepe, Jen sighed, “I broke up with Gina last night. She said that she wanted a chance to find herself. After three years, Mal, three years and she want to find her inner self.” Taking a bite, she continued, “She’s seriously fucked with my motivational flow, you know? And it couldn’t have come at a worst time. I’ve got to produce this piece for the showcase and now, my creativity’s in the shitter.”

Mallory turned toward Jen and reached for her arm, squeezing it, “You’ll find your motivation again, Jen. As for Gina, it’s her loss. I mean, have you looked at yourself in the mirror? You’re hot and you know it, girl.”

Jen laughed and grasped Mallory’s hand in hers, squeezing it lightly, “Only you would think that and you’re a sweetheart for thinking that.” Exhaling heavily, Jen dropped her hand, “That’s the least of my worries; Mr. McInnis himself is on his way in to confirm my piece and I’ve got next to nothing. I’m totally screwed, Mallory.”

Mallory frowned and stood slowly, “You give up too easily, Jennifer. Just show him your portfolio and leave the disasters in the making out of sight.” Mallory laughed as Jen swatted at her arm playfully and then turned back to the table, reaching for a cup. When she didn’t grab it, she frowned as her hands moved quicker, “Did you move my mug, Jen?”

Getting up, Jennifer went to the cabinet and retrieved the mug, placing it down and taking Mallory’s hands in hers. Looking to her friend, she sighed heavily, “I was still in pity town this morning when I got in. I forgot to set it out.”

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’ll just get a cup of coffee and make my way back out front. What time is Mr. McInnis supposed to arrive?”

The tinkling of the bell above the door drew their attention and Jen groaned, “Apparently right now.” Panic seized her and she felt her heart thrumming in her chest, “Can you distract them for a minute? Show them around a little while I get my portfolio together?”

Mallory took Jen’s hands into hers and chuckled lightly, “Slow down, Jen.  Things are going to be alright. Go get yourself together; I’ll handle Mr. McInnis.”

When Jen left, Mallory made her way to the front, hearing two men talking among themselves, their voices barely above a whisper. As she got closer, she paused slightly, recognizing the deep baritone voice that exuded power. Her heart pulsated in her chest as she took a deep breath and exhaled heavily, resuming her steps. It had been five years, but it seemed like yesterday. She remembered easily, the day that Rory McInnis had humiliated her and changed her life forever.

 Mallory’s feet began to move once more and she plastered a smile on her face as she came to the counter. She had to set aside her past hurts and focus; Jen’s livelihood predicated on her spot in the showcase. Pulling herself up by her bootstraps, she shook away the lingering doubts, forcing the painful memories away. Judging by the distance of sound, Mallory suspected they were inspecting the pieces on display.  After a moment, she was ready to face the men. Feeling around for her cane, she grinned as she wrapped her hands around it and flicked her wrist, extending the cane. 

Making her way toward the men, she cleared her throat and smiled more, “Good morning, gentlemen. I see you have great taste. Those pieces are some of Ms. Moore’s more recent works.” Having memorized the layout of the studio, Mallory knew, just by the positioning of the men, what works of art surrounded them. Walking with a bit of confidence, she continued, “You have to admire the way Ms. Moore manipulates the colors. They’re so expressive, don’t you think?”

Rory stared at the portrait and nodded, “She’s got talent, that’s for sure.” Turning around fully, he took in the sight of the young woman with the cane and glanced to Tim, feeling somewhat awkward.  The presence of the cane threw him somewhat, leading to a very long stretch of silence.

Mallory sensed the tension in the air and laughed as she extended her hand, realizing that Rory hadn’t recognized her, “Don’t mind the cane, I promise, it won’t get in the way. Mallory Ruskin. I work with Ms. Moore.”

Rory narrowed his brow at the mention of the young woman’s name as he took her hand, shocked by the warmth that flowed from her soft skin. He took a closer look and the realization finally dawned on him and his hand slowed until he’d stopped completely.  The memories came fast and furious and he forced himself to relinquish her hand. Panic began to filter through his entire body as he stood back, unaware of Tim’s confused glare.

It couldn’t be…could it? Could this be the same woman?

Tim cleared his throat and stepped in between the two, instantly feeling the awkward tension, “Ah…Ms. Ruskin, we dropped by to confirm Ms. Moore for the art showcase that Mr. McInnis is sponsoring. We were assured that she’d have a piece to show.”

Mallory nodded and slid the cane to her right, “Yes, of course. If you follow me, I’ll take you to a finished piece.”

Tim glanced to Rory and frowned, shoving his shoulder roughly, “Snap out of it, Rory. We’ve got a packed schedule as it is.”

Pulled out of the momentary lull, Rory faced Tim with a confused expression, asking, “What did you say?”

“I said let’s get a move on it, our schedule’s filling up by the second. Let’s get this done so we can move on.”

Rory smoothed his hand over his suit and straightened his tie, resisting the urge to do it again. In moments where he’d felt his control slipping, he battled with his OCD and surely, a ghost from his past would trigger those obsessive traits all over again.

Tim walked slightly ahead of him, only turning to make sure he hadn’t lost his best friend.  Rory could see the concern in his eyes and shook his head dismissively; the last thing he was going to do was to let a past mistake ruin his day.

Then why did he suddenly find himself wanting to touch her hand again?

Mallory could sense that they were no longer following her and bit her lip, hoping she wasn’t screwing Jen’s chance at more exposure. She hadn’t figured she’d ever see Rory again, much less that he’d have sole bearing on her friend’s livelihood but it is where she now found herself. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure as to what she expected of him; the last time she saw him, she could actually see and the last image that burned into her brain was of his angry visage.

Why am I freaking out about this?  He’s the one who should be quaking in his thousand dollar loafers.

Rory was the reason why she’d lost her footing in life, why she was now dependent on others for the simplicities of life. Rory McInnis was the reason why she had to bury her dreams and settle for just a sliver of the hopes she’d had for herself.

No, she shouldn’t have been the one trembling but she couldn’t help it. God save her but her heart ached at the close proximity she shared with the man who had both given and taken her hope. She wanted to cry because she knew that even after five years; Rory McInnis wasn’t the least bit remorseful for his part in the tragedy that cost her the ability to see and broke her heart.

This was not going to be good.

Chapter Two

2008

First impressions are important. It was what his mother and his father had instilled in him from childhood; what others thought of someone was judged within the first five minutes of meeting. Most of his life had been a myriad of first impressions, and under the tutelage of his parents he’d become a master of giving off an air of control. It’s what started him on his way, paving his path for success. It was also the beginning of his need to have that control, to keep it within his grasp. Rory had known he was being groomed for greatness and for it to become a reality, he had to exude that control at all times. But when he needed that control the most, he felt it slip right through his fingers. One glance at her, just a second in duration had stripped him of his control. In a matter of seconds, control had left the building altogether and Rory was left with an insurmountable desire to have…her.

She was striking; her raven colored mane fell between her shoulder blades, its glossy strands practically beckoning him to caress them. He’d only seen her from the back initially and he was captivated. It didn’t hold a candle to what he would see when she turned around, her brilliant smile nearly taking his breath away. He was sure his heart stopped as he focused more on her, his brow knitting as he observed her. The flawless, youthful glow of her almond colored skin held his attention, its luminescence piquing his interest. He could imagine his fingers gliding across the expanse of her neck, practically feeling the throb of her pulse as his lips delicately skimmed every inch. Was it as soft as it seemed to be?

 Rory ran a hand over his lips as he stared, his heart quickening at the sound of her laughter. He’d never heard anything so enchanting, so enthralling. Unconsciously, he found himself moving closer, forgetting his prior intentions. The moment he saw her, his course changed and now he wanted to know the woman who had, in one glance, shifted his entire perspective. Sure, she’d come to the house to see his nineteen year old brother but for some reason, he felt draw to her.  The mysterious lady who had shattered Rory’s façade of control now held his full attention. Despite having a bevy of women to cater to his needs whenever he wanted, he found himself truly taken with the beauty in front of him.

When she lifted her hand to place it on Declan’s arm, he felt a surge of primal possession build within him and as his lips issued a determined growl, he made his way over to them, every step echoing the fall of his stringent control.  As he walked, he counted to three and smoothed his tie down three times, hoping to alleviate the anxious feelings that were surfacing. The last thing he needed was for her to witness a breakdown; he didn’t want to portray anything less than the perfect man he’d striven to be since childhood.

Both Declan and the mystery woman turned as he approached, his brother’s inscrutable expression giving him a slight advantage.  It was very obvious that this woman held Declan’s attention as well and Rory could only grin as he extended his hand to his brother while focusing on the woman. Instantly, he was lost in her beautiful eyes, her spectacular orbs reminding him of a glass of smooth cognac.  She stared back at him and he could see the interest in her eyes, a small yet, knowing smile surfacing on her lips. When she took her bottom lip between her teeth, Rory felt the surge of arousal as it rose to stake its claim.

“Declan,” Rory said as he shot his brother a quick look, “how have you been? What’s going on?”

Declan arched a brow as he looked to Mallory, shaking his head, “Um…nothing’s going on. Mallory and I were just stopping through. We’re going to get started on an assignment from art.  First, I wanted her to meet Mom and Dad.”

Rory focused on the woman and smiled more, hearing the hope in Declan’s voice. His brother definitely had it bad for the young beauty... 

“So, you’re an art major like my little brother?” Rory would never admit to it but he was holding his breath in anticipation of hearing her speak. If her laughter incited a riot within his heart, he could only imagine that her words would stage an all-out coup.

“Yes, I am. Art is in my blood. I’ve wanted to create beautiful images since I was a little girl it’s all I can think about, really,” Mallory responded lightly. Turning to Declan, she added, “Your brother’s a formidable artist himself. That’s why I’m here; he’s going to help me perfect some of my techniques.”

 When she smiled Rory took a step closer, taking up her hand, “Well, as good of an artist Declan is, he was never one to practice good manners. I’m his brother, Rory. It’s nice to meet you.”

Mallory held his gaze as he brought her hand to his lips, kissing it delicately, “Nice to meet you as well, Rory. Declan’s told me so much about you.”

“Really?” Rory questioned, tossing a clever grin to his younger brother. He was certain that most of what he’d told Mallory was fiction; he and Declan, at best, tolerated each other. Sure, he loved his brother but the steep age difference was a cavern that they could not bridge. Regarding Mallory with a soft smile, he continued, “I hope it’s all good.”

“I told her that you were a rat bastard whose sole purpose in life was to make mine a living hell,” Declan said as he stared openly at his brother. He could see it in Rory’s eyes; there was a predatory gleam in them and he instantly felt the need to protect Mallory. Diffusing the tension that had grown between him and his brother, he offered, “Just ask the old cronies he hangs around with. It’s all about mergers and acquisitions for him.”

Mallory considered Rory with a discerning eye, “So you’re the CEO of McInnis Industries? Talk about meteoric rise to the top.  Graduated Magna Cum Laude from Harvard, has a MBA from Harvard Business School and took the reins of the family business at the tender age of twenty-five. You’re legendary.”

Rory felt a surge of pride at hearing her list his accomplishments and nodded, “Yes, I have had some success in my ventures. I truly believed that Declan was going to follow in my footsteps but it seems he has a new path to forge, isn’t that right, Declan?”

“Did I manage to tell you that Rory’s a complete asshole, right Mallory?” Declan added stonily. Sinking his hands in the pockets of his trousers, he sighed, “We’ve got a lot of work to do, Mallory. Ready?”

Mallory nodded and bit her lip as she extended her hand, her eyes focused on Rory, “Again, it was nice to meet you, Rory. I hope we  see more of each other.”

Rory nodded and took her hand gently, “Count on it.”

2013

“Mallory Ruskin,” Rory muttered as he got down on his knees, the rag in hand.  Sweat glistened off of his chest and dropped into his eyes as he scrubbed the trimming of the tub, wanting to make certain that he hadn’t missed a spot. When he was done, he smoothed his hands over the surface three times and stood, counting to three under his breath. He walked to the sink and turned the knob three times before turning the water on, rinsing the rag.  Closing his eyes, he continued to count, bracing himself against the counter top. Seeing Mallory again had brought on his OCD tendencies and as the anxiety began to overwhelm him, he sought to alleviate them by resorting to his rituals.  But even after three hours of cleaning his already spotless bathroom, he hadn’t found the relief he was looking for. If anything, the memories provoked the obsessive behavior, prompting him to move on.

Touching the knob three times, he then turned it off and folded the rag into threes before setting it aside. His next target was the bane of his existence, the carpet in his bedroom. He had to line up each swipe of the vacuum just right to make three perfect rows before he moved on to another section. If at any time he found it lacking, he would start over. One time, he found himself vacuuming for almost four hours in the attempt to quell the overwhelming anxiety that threatened to swallow him whole.

Exiting the bathroom, he shut and opened the door three times before he moved toward the linen closet, again, going through the rituals of three.  It seemed to get worst when he thought about Mallory and the accident.

“The accident I caused,” he bit out as he wheeled the vacuum to his room.  Plugging it up, he took a second to count to three before turning it on, the loud roar of the engine failing to drown out the compulsive thoughts. He’d hurt the one that he should’ve cherished.  No amount of apologies could mend what had been broken between them.  With each thought, Rory ran the vacuum in long strokes, taking care to line it up properly. Images assaulted him, the sensations of that night flooding him completely. A sudden jerk threw him off   and he groaned when he saw the skewered line, preparing to go back over it again. He was a prisoner, trapped by the bounds of his OCD and convicted of his actions against the first woman he admitted that he loved. He was doomed to a life of misery and with just cause, he felt he deserved every second of it.

Just before he forced himself to start over, he felt a hand fall on his shoulder and turned quickly, coming face to face with Declan. The tension in Rory’s shoulders eased somewhat and he nodded, turning back to the vacuum. Declan knew first hand of his debilitating affliction but never used it to his advantage. Instead, his brother sought to help, just as he was doing now.

Declan watched helplessly as his brother vacuumed, feeling deeply saddened. As the oldest, Rory exuded confidence, arrogance, and brilliant charm.  Declan never fathomed that he would see such a strong man be brought down to his knees by something as humbling as OCD.   When Rory slipped, Declan stepped toward him, ready to help, only to be stopped by Rory’s hand. Even in the throes of an event, Rory was too proud to allow someone to help him.

Declan took a seat in the high winged back chair sitting beside the bed and watched, the anger flowing through him at such an ease, it scared him. His parents had a hand in Rory’s affliction; always expecting their oldest son to be perfect, they drove him to the brink, shattering any chances of Rory claiming his life as his own. Even though he was the youngest, he felt he had to stand watch over his older brother, to protect him. Underneath that tough exterior, Rory was broken and it was Declan’s hope that he would someday be able to fix himself.

When the vacuum quieted, Declan stood and walked over to his brother and took the vacuum away from him. Staring into his brother’s stormy grey eyes, he sighed, not liking what he saw.  “Have you taken your meds, Rory?” Declan observed as Rory took in three deep breaths and counted underneath his breath.

“I saw her today, Declan. I saw her,” Rory answered as he shook his head.

Declan groaned and took his brother by the arm, “We have to give you your medicine or you’re not going to be able to sleep tonight.”

Rory snatched away from Declan and turned away, “I saw her again, Declan. Mallory…she was at the art studio!”

“Rory…”

“I didn’t know she’d come back.”

“She never left, Rory. You did, remember?” Declan led Rory to the bathroom and searched his cabinet, “Why didn’t you take your meds, Rory?”

“She is still so beautiful, Declan. Even though…even though she’s blind…”

“Yes, I know, she’ still beautiful.” Declan grabbed three bottles and set them out one by one in the same manner Rory would, hoping he wouldn’t rearrange them. Luckily, Rory hadn’t noticed anything and Declan picked up the first, taking the pill out. Once he had all three, he reached for a cup and got some water, handing both the pills and the cup to Rory. “She’s gone on with her life, Rory.”

Rory shook his head and popped the pills in his mouth and then taking a swig of water, swallowing the pills quickly. Lifting his eyes to his brother, he shook his head, “She was just so beautiful. More beautiful than I can imagine.”

“More of a reason to stay away from her, Rory,” Declan warned.

“I can’t, Declan. I can’t stay away from her.”

Declan bit back a curse and sighed.

His job just got that much harder.

May, 2008

Mallory moaned as Rory covered her body with his, his soft kisses igniting a fire from deep within. She’d tried to keep it simple; she was looking for Declan and happened upon Rory by mistake, nearly crashing into him as he crossed her path. She hadn’t been thinking about Rory, or so she tried to convince herself, but the moment they collided, her thoughts, her desires honed in on him and her body reacted in kind. As he held her in his arms, she stared into those stormy grey eyes that had captivated her since their initial meeting over two months ago, seeing the evidence of what dwelled in her heart. The warmth that always accompanied thoughts of him flushed through her body and in an attempt to cover the effect of his proximity, she gasped. Initially, she never thought that Declan’s older brother would have even registered her existence, much less touched her but as they stared at each other, the silence that had descended upon both at their first meeting spoke volumes. There was a carnal almost primal undercurrent of desire that thrummed between them every time they were in each other’s presence and it was no different at that moment; the more Rory held her, the more she felt her control slipping.

That had been two hours ago.

Now they were in the throes of passion, his hands converging with his lips against her naked flesh, mastering her body as only she knew he would. She saw it in his eyes the moment they met and every moment since then; there was a powerful, unexplainable attraction between them, an attraction that demanded action. He wanted her and she was of sound mind and heart to let him have what he desired the most. That voracious desire, after all, ran both ways.

Mallory bit her lip when he pried open her legs and settled within the cradle of her thighs, his warm palm covering her weeping sex.  The moment his tongue speared her and began to lap at her wet slit, she was powerless against the mind-numbing pleasure he’d given her, her back arching as her head lulled against the soft silk sheets, her skin a conductor of sensations. He feasted on her pussy as if he’d been starved for it, his hunger unquenchable. Even when she released, he still gorged himself, propelling her to the highest of heights. It wasn’t until he’d gotten his fill that he parted from her, his breath still hovering over her mound. Her chest heaved from exertion and after a moment, she opened her eyes and lifted her head to stare down at him, a sensual smile drifting over her lips. She saw it in his eyes, the need for more, and a gentle lift of her brow in challenge was all it took for him to advance on her, his strong, muscled body covering her completely and his massive dick slamming against her virgin barrier. The pain was quick and harsh but segued into bliss as he stroked within her with such gentleness that it brought a tear to her eyes.

His lips caressed the shell of her ear as he thrust deeper, his voice ragged with unadulterated bliss and reverence, “So beautiful, so beautiful.”

Mallory wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him even closer, the fine hairs on his chest gently scraping against her breasts, teasing her already hardened nipples. Her eyes slid close as he continued to delve deeper, feeling the power of each thrust. In his arms, she was transported away from the moment, lost within the grip of passion. When he pried her arms away from his neck, she moaned again, allowing him free reign of her body.

“Rory,” she moaned, “this is…”

“Electric.”

That was the last audible word he uttered as the torturously slow pace began to ebb and in its place, a new, brutal pace began. The low, almost animalistic growl that issued from his lips had been her only warning. In the span of a heartbeat, he’d thrust her arms above her head and began to pound into her body relentlessly, each powerful blow to her body hitting her in only the most delicious places. He made her feel like a woman, a woman who was loved and not discarded.  With each pulsating stroke, he claimed her heart and when she looked into his fevered expression, she saw the proclamation mirrored within his intense grey orbs. They’d written their names across each other’s heart and souls. This was the beginning of something beautiful, something lasting. Something, that no matter where her life led her, she would hold onto and cherish. He’d taken her virginity but had given her so much more, including hope.

“Rory,” she moaned as he sat up and pulled her into his arms, “love me.”

“I already do, Mallory,” he whispered as he thrust forward, entrapping her within the circle of his embrace.  With her so close, he could feel her heartbeat against his chest and every beat confirmed what he’d known all along. He’d fallen in love with the young Mallory Ruskin at first sight and now that he’d experienced the treasure of her love returned, he wouldn’t let her go. The devil himself would have to pry her out of his cold, dead arms.

“I’ll never let you go, Mallory. Never…”

Mallory wept with joy as he held her close, cocooning her within his protective arms. Even though she was young, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that Rory McInnis was who her heart wanted and what her soul craved…

2013

Sitting in the oversized arm chair, Mallory sipped her tea and stroked Rufus’ head, allowing the blessed silence to drift over her as she surfaced from the memory of her and Rory. It was a memory she’d returned to throughout the   years, still cherishing it for what it signified. She had been made a woman by the man she loved and in that perfect moment, she’d believed that they could overcome all of the obstacles that they faced.  Oh how naïve she had been.

All of society’s taboos had taken residence at the McInnis' doorstep and Colin and Siobhan were not going to stand for it. No matter what Mallory did she couldn’t fight the hold they had over Rory.   Mere acquaintances had been tolerable; it was when his parents gained knowledge of their clandestine trysts and saw the manifestation of their burgeoning feelings  that they had decided to take matters into their own hands. Systematically, they used Rory’s affliction against him. Rory had tried valiantly to hide his OCD tendencies from her but one severe episode gave him no choice but to reveal what he’d suffered in secrecy. At first, she’d been furious; how could parents who claimed to love their son use his pain and anxiety against him? How could they watch as he suffered under their iron will? She fought hard for Rory, stood toe to toe with his mother and his father but in the end, their influence held a much more powerful sway than her love. He’d pushed her away but she kept coming back, she was stubborn like that.

And very stupid, she thought as she took another sip of the tea. She should’ve left him alone, moved on with her life and tried to forget what they shared.  She should’ve taken his dismissal as a warning but her heart simply wouldn’t allow her to forget. Even now with five years and so much anger and confusion between them, she still couldn’t bring herself to hate him. That night, he hadn’t been himself and even though his snarling visage was the last real image she saw, she wanted to believe that he wouldn’t have knowingly done anything to harm her.

“I don’t deserve you, Mallory, and one day, you’ll understand why…”

The familiar chime of her doorbell shattered her memories and she wiped away the tears as Rufus popped up, already heading for the door. His joyful barks brought a smile to her lips as she stood and made her way effortlessly toward her door, knowing that her friends awaited her. After that almost disastrous morning a couple of days ago at the studio, she’d apologized profusely to Jen and vowed to do anything within her power to make sure her showing was a success. Jen, in turn, dismissed her with a swift punch to her shoulder and assuaged her fears; she’d walked in on them and saw for herself just how much Rory McInnis had been affected by Mallory and told her in no uncertain terms that the older man still had a thing for her.  Mallory dismissed the notion altogether.  If he’d been so taken with her, then why had it taken him five years to find her?

 Mallory reached the door just as it rang three times in succession followed by the laughter of four familiar voices. Her smile widened as she listened to their conversation.  Mallory easily recognized Jen’s voice giving the details of the incident and the Rory sighting. She believed that was the reason for this visit more so than just an innocuous drop in. They wanted the dirt.

 Mallory flung the door open and faced four of her best friends, her brow lifted gently, “I’m blind not deaf. You know I could hear every word you blabber mouths said.”

Jen stepped in followed by Desmond who looked back at Savoy and Patrick as they entered, laughing raucously. Desmond, like the others, had landed in the circle of friends at the beginning of their junior year, just when Mallory was starting her new life. He’d never seen her around campus but the moment he’d met her, he knew she was something special. She’d been able to peg him like none other and he was impressed that without the ability to see, she had in fact gotten to the very core of him. Well that and Mallory Ruskin was insanely gorgeous.

Desmond leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek and chuckled, “You’re just too good, Mal. We weren’t that loud.”

Mallory shook her head and closed the door behind them, “I heard every word, Des. You want to know why I nearly had a meltdown because of that as you put it, “arrogant bastard”. Am I right?”

She laughed at the resounding silence and took his arm, grasping it tightly. Instantly, his cologne transported her back to the first day they met and how utterly awestruck he’d been to learn she was blind. Mallory further impressed him when he allowed her to “see” him with her hands, describing him down to the last detail.  She could tell that he smiled a lot because she’d felt the furrows of his laugh lines that hugged the corners of his lips and heard merriment in his voice. When she  had ran her hand over his hair, she found it smooth and wavy, giving her the notion that he was African American and mixed with the tempered cadence of his voice, she surmised that he was from the deep south. At first, Desmond questioned if she were really blind, especially when she told him that he probably had light brown eyes. But like the rest of their crew, she explained that observation was far more than what a person could see. From that moment on, none of them thought of Mallory as lacking and they surrounded and supported her, becoming fiercely loyal and ridiculously protective.

This, of course, was why they were all standing in her apartment under the guise of dropping by for a visit. Mallory, they knew, was hyper sensitive, especially about the man who’d altered the trajectory of her entire life. In order to forgo her descent into a dark, depressive abyss, they would have to act. Their mission was to get Mallory out and about and make her forget Rory McInnis existed. They did it once; they’d do it again in a heartbeat.

 “No, that was me who said that,” Savoy chimed in with a small grin. Savoy possessed a flair that Mallory had instantly taken a shine to; with her unfiltered mouth and the desire to speak the truth, she’d been Mallory’s greatest advocate. Even though she arrived on the scene at the same time Desmond had, she hated Rory as if she’d been there to witness the accident herself. Aside from Jen, Savoy had been Mallory’s biggest supporter. She moved toward Mallory and kissed her lightly, “Rory McInnis should be glad he’s locked up in that gilded tower he calls a home. I’d kick his ass if I ever saw him again, especially after....”

“You weren’t even around when all that went down,” Patrick interjected, “you’re just going off of what Jen has told us.” Patrick focused on Mallory and shook his head, “They’re just being a bunch of busy bodies. I came here to offer you an escape from the doldrums of an evening alone. Come with us to Rapture, Mallory.”

“Rapture,” Mallory retorted as she shook her head. There was no way she was going to Rapture, especially not on a weeknight. Mallory walked away and lifted her hand, “Thanks but no thanks, guys. I was doing fine all by myself.”

Jen traded glances with Patrick and sighed, “Come on, Mallory. It’s not like you’re going to run into him. He hasn't been to Rapture since your accident. As a matter of fact, he high tailed it out of North Carolina and stayed away for five years.”

“Lucky asshole,” Savoy bit out as she plopped down on the couch, “he has some nerve coming back here in the first place.”

“You can’t dictate where a person lives, Savvy.  He has a right to be here just like the rest of us,” Mallory answered as she found the arm chair. Taking a seat she smiled, “Besides, we didn’t roam in the same circles before we dated, we definitely won’t roam in the same circles now.”

“Which is why you should come, Mallory,” Desmond pleaded. “You need to get out. When’s the last time you’ve been anywhere besides this apartment and A Sketch in Time?”

Mallory remained silent. There was no reason why she should give them ammo to assault her with. It wasn’t her fault that the closer she got to the anniversary of her accident, the more melancholy she‘d become. Every year, she faced the day with equal parts of disdain and appreciation; true, her dreams of being an artist had been snatched away but at the same time, she’d learned how to appreciate the life she had.

Feeling their prying eyes, Mallory sighed heavily, “It doesn’t matter, guys. I’m not going and that’s final.”

Jen checked her watch and smirked, shaking her head, “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” As if on cue, the doorbell rang and her eyes widened, “Hmm, I wonder who this could be.”

Desmond laughed as he took a seat next to Savoy, “This is going to be good.”

Jen bounded toward the door and opened it and stepped aside, making way for the visitor, “About time you made it. She was about to bail on us. Good thing she listens to you.”

Declan entered and shook his head, laughing briefly, “What makes you think she’s going to listen to me, Jen? I’m consorting with the enemy.”

“Your brother’s the enemy, Declan. You…you’re cute, and loyal.” Jen slipped her arm through his and started walking with him announcing his arrival, “Ah, look at who decided to join us.”

Declan greeted his friends with a short wave before centering his gaze on the one woman who still made his heart pulsate with need. Releasing Jen, he made his way to Mallory’s side and knelt, raising his hand to her cheek.  Once upon a time, Declan had prepared his heart for her but the moment he saw his brother and her together, he knew she was forever lost to him. As much as he’d despised Rory and his high handed ideals, he couldn’t stab his brother in the back. Mallory had already given Rory her heart and that alone had stopped Declan in his tracks.

“I see you’re trying to be difficult, Mallory,” Declan said gently. His eyes roamed over her beautiful face as his hand moved a strand of hair out of her eyes, “I thought we said we were going to get out more, especially now.”

Mallory reached to cover his hand with hers and gave him a wan smile, “I just don’t feel like going out, Declan. I wouldn’t enjoy myself and I’d be a kill joy for you all.”

Declan shook his head and cupped her cheek, “You’ll never be a killjoy, Mallory. And if you’re worried about Rory, he’s…”

“I’m not worried about Rory,” Mallory countered defensively. She grimaced and let Declan’s hand go, feeling the vestiges of years of anger surfacing. She’d spent those years wondering why Rory hadn’t come to see her, hadn’t worried over her, hadn’t cared enough to at least apologize. Now, on the cusp of another harrowing anniversary, she had to deal with his reemergence into her life.

“Then prove it, Mallory. Prove it to yourself that you’ve survived the worst; that you’re strong enough to keep going. Don’t waste a moment thinking about my brother and his weak ass reasons for leaving and staying away. Go out and enjoy life, have fun, but don’t sit here and sulk. I won’t let you do it, Mallory.”

Declan’s forceful directive caused Mallory to turn to him and raised her hand to trace her fingers over his face. Her brow furrowed as she worried her lip. “You’re angry.”

“And you’re going, Mallory, whether you like it or not.”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you, Declan?” Mallory rested her hand on Declan’s cheek and rubbed it gently.

“Consider me a house guest,” he responded evenly.

“And you guys will cosign for him on this, won’t you?”

“You better believe it, Mal.” Savoy stood and crossed her arms about her body, trading glances with their crew. Mallory was on the edge of conceding; just one more push would finish the job perfectly. “And if you think Declan takes up a lot of space, just wait until we all settle in.”

“What if I just refuse?” Mallory asked, her tone bordering on petulance. She nearly pouted before she realized that her friends meant business. Silence hung heavily, the tension nearly strangling the room. It was as if the world hinged on her answer.

They were dead serious.

Crap.

~*~

Rory gazed out at the sea of bodies moving to the pulsating bass line, wondering why he’d even bothered to come.  As a general rule, he stayed home on the weekdays, allowing his weekends to be a variable feast of decadence and depravity. In the past, he was known to have a number of beauties in his company at Rapture and tonight wasn’t any different; the moment he’d hit the door, several women approached him, some he knew very well. Although he was feeling restless, he couldn’t quite bring himself to take part in the promised debauchery they all telegraphed with their lust filled eyes.  As tempting as it was, he maintained control, content with watching the   patrons lose their inhibitions on the dance floor. Who knows, if the right one came around, he could change his mind.

As he watched the dance floor, he was transported to another time where his heart and arms were filled with the woman he loved. Mallory used to love to dance and at times, it was just enough to watch her lose herself in the moment and let the music take her away. Most often, he’d been with her on the dance floor, showing up men younger than him. It didn’t matter to him who stared, especially when Mallory flexed her body against his. He could remember how they’d spent most of the night sweating it out on the floor only to return to his home to sweat it out under his sheets. Even now, he throbbed with an ache that no other woman could satiate. Only Mallory could attend to his needs, only she knew his heart. It was scandalous; a younger woman and a much older man, a white older man at that, dancing like sex starved teenagers but it was what he wanted.

If only I weren’t so stupid, Rory thought nonchalantly as he sipped his drink. He eyed the glass and swirled it three times in concentric circles, finding a sense of calm in such an inconsequential action. It wasn’t until the song changed up that he broke his gaze with the amber liquid to look out at the expanse of the night club to see more patrons flooding in from the entrance. His eyes settled on one person as she emerged from the tight crowd, the flashing lights bathing her beautifully.  Rory swallowed hard as he placed the glass down and rose, following her with his eyes. Her expression was a balance of annoyance and merriment as if she’d been coerced into coming. A quick look to her right confirmed that notion as he saw her crew trailing behind her.

If they had all conspired to get her there, that meant that…

 “Ah, yes, there you are little brother,” Rory said as he watched Declan push his way toward Mallory.  Rory shook his head and smoothed his hand down the front of his suit three times before he started for the door, counting in threes. 

Now wasn’t the time for him to lose control.

 Now was the time for him to act.

Rory

Mallory

Declan

Imogene

Chapter Four

Mallory settled in the massive booth, sufficiently surrounded by her crew. They’d positioned her directly in the middle with Savoy on her left and Declan on her right all under the notion that she planned to make some sort of fast getaway. Truthfully, the thought hadn’t been that far from her mind; she really hadn’t wanted to come but since her friends had made the effort, she thought it only fair that she indulged them for a few hours.

They were only trying to help.

She’d already decided that she would  partake of the spirits that they were assuredly going to provide, perhaps even may be dance a little. It had been so long since she’d even  thought about the dance floor and even now, the faint memory was laced equally with feverish images and stinging heartbreak. Rory, despite the conventional theory that white men just didn’t dance, in fact, been an excellent dancer. He knew exactly how to mold his body to hers, how to extract just the right amount of desire from her, the heat from his proximity driving her insane. Many nights, she flirted with enticing him right on the dance floor but thankfully, cooler heads prevailed and the general public had been spared. It was when they returned to his home that they set the night afire, their passion blazing a scorching trail of pleasure beyond their wildest dreams.

But it came to an end all too quickly…

A sad smile briefly crossed her lips just before Savoy shoved her lightly. Forcing a smile she turned toward Savoy and shook her head and leaned forward, “I’m alright, Savvy. I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“You’re out to have fun, Mallory, not to reminisce,” Savoy answered as she moved closer. The music had grown to enormous proportions, making it difficult to hold a conversation. She looped her arm around Mallory’s shoulder and leaned in closer to her ear, “I bet you’d feel better if you got up and danced. Shake those cobwebs out.”

Mallory chuckled at Savoy’s attempt to goad her and shook her head, her brow furrowing, “Not much for dancing right now. Who knows, maybe before we go home I might get out there and show you guys what dancing’s all about.”

Declan moved in closer as Jen and Desmond went to get the first round of drinks. He could see that Mallory was struggling and for a second, he thought that bringing her to Rapture hadn’t been the best idea. There were just too many ghosts floating around. He stared at her as the music shifted gears and decided that he’d try his best to keep her out of the realm of the past. Shoving his shoulder into her gently, he laughed, “Right, like you still know how to shake what ya mama gave you.” He shot Savoy a hopeful look, “Exactly how long has it been since you’ve danced?”

“About five years.”

Mallory felt her heart seize as the familiar scent from years past assaulted her anew. She’d felt Declan stiffen next to her and Savoy shift anxiously as if dying to stand. Reaching out for her friend, she shook her head, “No, Savvy, not here.”

Savoy glared at Rory as he stood in front of them, his smug demeanor making her want to jump across the table that separated them. This was the selfish asshole who not only took her friend’s sight but also left her bereft of happiness, alone, and heartbroken. He didn’t deserve the goodwill that Mallory had extended to him.

“You have some nerve coming here, Rory,” Savoy bit out. Gently pulling away from Mallory’s questing hands, she stood and rounded the table, facing off with the older man. Even though she stood a good four feet shorter than Rory, she wasn’t intimidated. Fury grew from deep within and she clenched her fists at her sides, “You have some nerve showing your face after five years…five LONG years of nothing. Not a phone call, a letter, an email…NOTHING!”

Declan stood quickly and stepped in between them, astounded that Rory hadn’t flinched at Savoy’s close proximity. Usually, if someone violated his personal space, he’d begin his counting ritual, smoothing his shirt out three times as his eyes darted rapidly. Yet as Savoy got in his face, he was the epitome of calmness. Declan stared at his brother as if trying to dissect why he was there and finding something much more interesting.

Rory was filled with determination.

Pushing his hand against Savoy chest, he asked, “Rory, what are you doing here?”

Rory glanced at Savoy and then settled his sights on Mallory, swallowing hard. It had taken everything he had to stand up to the crew’s guard dog and not fall to pieces, yet one look at the beauty that set his heart aflame so many years ago had brought the urges on and he shifted his weight uneasily, his hand smoothing down the front of his shirt three times. He snapped his fingers three times and answered his brother, “I- I want to talk to M-Mallory.”

“You lost that privilege the moment you ran away you asswipe!”  Savoy bellowed as she forced herself against Declan. “You fuck her over; I’m going to kick your ass…”

“Savoy, that’s enough,” Mallory said aloud. Her eyes were trained on the trio, listening to the ebb and flow of their conversation. Rory was slowly inching into oblivion and she knew he needed to escape. Standing hastily, she smiled faintly and felt her way around the table, “I’ll talk to him.”

Savoy stopped fighting and sidestepped to allow Mallory to pass, reaching for her shoulder, “Are you sure, Mal?”

Mallory stopped and placed her hand on top of Savoy’s, “Savvy, I’m sure. I’ll be alright.” She released her hand and started moving again, this time brushing by Declan. She grinned as he reached to take her hand. She grabbed it and squeezed, “I’m in a club with hundreds of people and I carry a weapon. Just because I’m blind…”

“Doesn’t mean you’re helpless,” Declan finished. It had been her mantra, one that she forced her circle of friends to memorize and put into practice. Declan eyed his brother warily and shook his head, issuing him a stern warning, “She comes back with even one tear drop Mom and Dad are planning a funeral.”

“Understood,” Rory responded as he watched Mallory walk steadily toward him. She was a vision of beauty and grace even after all those years.  A smile drifted over his lips as she stood before him with a crooked smile.  In the face of her beauty, he’d been awestruck and when she gave him a crooked smile, he’d felt as if he had finally found his home again, his peace. Offering his arm, he asked, “Shall, we?”

Mallory took his arm and sighed, “No funny stuff, Rory.  I wasn’t joking about the weapon part.”  His deep chuckle sent sparks of awareness down her spine and she could feel her body heating from within. If just being close to him was eliciting such powerful reaction, she knew she would have to tread lightly. There was no way in hell that he’d just waltz back into her life  after five years of nothing and expect for them to pick up where they left off. She would listen to him, see what he had to say and then be done with him. Her good will was only going to go so far.

Just as they were about to walk away, Mallory felt Declan’s warm hand take hers once more, “I’ll come and get you in five minutes, alright?”

“Stop worrying, Declan. Rory’s not going to hurt me.” Mallory regarded Rory with a slight tilt of her head and a dazzling, if not deadly smile, “Isn’t that right, Rory?”

“I’ll be on my best behavior, little brother.” Rory grinned at Savoy and nodded before turning and heading back the direction he’d come.

Savoy watched as the sea of people swallowed the couple and sighed heavily, glancing up at Declan, “You trust your brother?”

Declan’s eyes followed them until he lost sight of them completely, “I don’t trust Rory further than I can toss him but I trust Mallory. If she says she’s going to be alright, we’re going to have to trust her. Just because she’s blind…”

“Doesn’t mean she’s helpless…yeah, yeah, I get it.” Pushing him slightly, she glowered, “What’s the big idea holding me back? That was probably my best chance at retribution!”

Declan shook his head and took a seat, gesturing for Savoy to do the same, “Mallory would’ve probably kicked your ass. This is her fight, not yours.”

“But…”

“But nothing, Savvy,” Declan shot back, “she’s perfectly capable of handling this.”

Savoy considered that notion as she sat down, grabbing a hand full of napkins, “Yeah, she’s all I am woman hear me roar. When   I remember how she would sit for hours, crying.  Three years after he left and she was still crying over him, Declan!”

“I know but we have trust her, Savvy. She knows what she’s doing,” Declan offered.   Glancing back at the VIP box, he saw them enter and sighed heavily.  This was a powder keg ready to blow and now that the fuse was lit, there was nothing he could do except wait and watch.

The sound of glasses clinking as they were set on the table brought Declan out of his reverie and he looked up to see both Desmond and Jen’s confused looks.

“Alright, what did we miss?” Desmond asked, glancing between the two. It then dawned on him that they were short one person, “Where’s Mallory?”

“Two guesses,” Savoy retorted with a snort.

Jen’s eyes widened as she stared at Declan, “He’s here? Rory’s here?”

“Rory’s here.”

~*~

Rory closed the door behind them, shutting out the world and welcoming the privacy of the VIP lounge. Thankfully, they were the only two who were currently using it and as Rory crossed the room, he counted to three, feeling his anxiety spike. It would’ve been decisively worst had there been someone else in the room with them but as it was, being this close to Mallory sent him hurling toward the edge. The room felt as if it were caving in on him and he paced in multiples of three, his brow furrowed as sweat began to pop on his forehead. He had to do something to keep his mind off of what he’d chosen to do and as he slowed his pacing, he hovered over the bar, breathing in and out slowly.  When he felt as if he could move again, he pulled out three glasses and filled them with three ice cubes each, lining them up perfectly. He kept inching the glasses back and forth to gauge their perfect linear formation, licking his lips three times before he felt he could stop.  He touched all three glasses three times before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. His excursion and face off with Savoy had done him in; he was a slave to his rituals once again.

Just as he was about to go through the whole ritual again, he felt her arms slide around his waist and her head resting on his back. Her fingers tapped his waist three times and he smiled faintly as the relief slowly descended.  Even though there had been years between them, she still understood who he was and how he was forced to operate.

“It’s gotten worst, hasn’t it Rory?”

Rory forced himself to stop counting and shook his head, “W-when I get s-stressed, and it gets worst.”

“And you’re stressed out now?”

“You better believe it,” Rory answered, his breath leaving his body. Her heat against his back soothed him and he felt the calmness coming back. Having her near was driving him to two totally different extremes; she induced spikes of anxiety while at the same time, tempered the compulsion to revert back to the crippling rituals. It confounded him and yet, he was glad he’d had enough balls to approach her, despite knowing what he had to do.

She released him and turned him around, forcing him to look upon him. When he did, he raised his hand and caressed her cheek three times before whispering, “You’re still so damned beautiful, Mallory. That will never change.” He searched her eyes and was astonished that they retained their brilliant color. It was as if she were really looking at him.

Mallory lifted her hands and let it hover, asking, “Do you mind if I take a moment to look at you? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, Rory.”

Rory took her hands and placed them on his face. At first, it felt awkward but as her soft finger tips glided over his face, he seemed to relish her touch and smiled just as she made a pass over his lips.

Mallory chuckled and arched a brow as she concentrated, “You still have that handsome smile, I see.” Tracing her fingers over to the corners of his eyes, she sighed, “Time waits for no man, you’ve got a few wrinkles, babe.” Knowing that she was treading dangerous territory, she thrust her hands into his hair and sighed, relishing the sensation of his silky strands passing through her fingers. Pulled her hands out and then traveled the expanse of his muscled chest, resting her hand against his heart. She felt the rhythmic pounding against his chest and sighed as her eyes welled with tears.  Images that she’d locked away surfaced and she exhaled shakily as the memories took over…

She stared at him as he hovered above her, his licking his tantalizing lips as if he were staring at his prey.  The hunger in his eyes was unmistakable and a rush of arousal flooded her core as she spread her legs for him, extending a silent invitation…

“I want you to make love to me, Rory as if your heart depended on it…”

Rory dipped his head to nuzzle her neck, settling within the cradle of her thighs, “It already does, Mallory.” He took her hand and pressed it against his chest, “You feel that? That’s you…you make this beat, Mallory…

She missed this connection with him and as she continued press her hand against his chest she felt her heart pulsating painfully in her chest. Hearing him groan, she quickly pulled her hands away and stepped out of the circle of his personal space.

Rory took a step forward and he noticed she automatically took a step back, “Mallory?”

He was angry, angrier than she’d ever seen him before, which surprised her. If anything, she should’ve been the one pissed off. Not only did she have to suffer through the recriminations of her parents, she was now considered a desperate fool. She’d fought for nothing and all the while, the man she’d fought for laughed at her behind her back.

 Huffing, she turned away from him, her own ire spiking, “How dare you get angry with me, Rory? Not after what I just heard you say, what I just saw you do!”

Rory could see the despair cloaking her and he took another step toward her, his hand stretched out, “Mallory, I just wanted to talk to you…I want to apologize…”

“Apologize? You want to apologize, this is rich. What are you apologizing for Rory? What exactly are you apologizing for? For allowing your parents to run all over you, make the decisions for you, screw your life? Are you apologizing for fucking Imogene while I was still in the house? Or wait…you’re apologizing because I found you fucking Imogene. That’s gotta be it!” Mallory angrily snatched her hand away and turned on her heels, heading for the staircase…

The past mixed with the present and Mallory choked on her tears. She wasn’t ready to face him, no matter how much she said she was or how optimistic she’d been, she just simply wasn’t ready to face the pain he’d caused her. She backed up more, bumping into the couch, her heart pounding in her chest.

“No, Rory…”

“Rory, what are you doing?” Mallory asked, looking into his fevered eyes. She saw something malevolent in them, something other worldly as he grasped her by her arms, shaking her three times.  They were at the top of the stairwell when he caught her and she glanced backwards at the steep incline…

“Let me explain, Mallory! Let me explain, Mallory! Let me EXPLAIN, Mallory!”

“Mallory let me explain. Please, let me explain. Let me explain,” Rory chanted as his heart pounded against his chest. She was remembering that night, the night that changed everything and suddenly, her anxiety fed into his. He paced rapidly as he grabbed at his hair, counting out loud. “One, two… three…one, two, three…one, two…three…”

Mallory heard him counting and knew he was losing his grip.  He didn’t need to be exposed to so many inconsistences when he lost it. She calmed down and started to walk toward him, listening for his counting.  “Rory…it’s okay. Calm down, alright?”

“One, two, and three….I just wanted to explain, Mallory…One, two, three…I wanted to tell you why…”

Mallory approached cautiously, offering, “You have to stop pacing, Rory. You can’t talk to me if you’re pacing.” In control of her facilities now, she exhaled heavily and made the decision to move in closer, “Rory…please, you have to step back away from the edge.”

“I was sorry for putting you through that, Mallory. Imogene…was a lapse in   common sense,” Rory said as he concentrated on his strides. He kept his head down as he turned, crashing into Mallory and sending her careening to the glass table situated in front of the couch.   The glass shattered into a thousand pieces just as the door seemingly exploded. Rory stopped pacing to see Mallory lying on the ground amongst the glass and began to panic moving toward her. He was stopped by two powerful hands that lifted him by his lapels and then tossed him   against the wall as if he were just a rag doll.  The impact took his breath away and as he shook it off, he saw his little brother lumbering toward him as the room filled with the familiar voices of her friends. Rory couldn’t worry about that at the moment, not when he was facing the fury of his brother.

“You just don’t listen, do you, Rory?”

Chapter Five

Rory quickly stood and shook himself before glancing over to see Mallory lying prone on the floor, the glass shattered underneath her. His heart spiked at the sight of the blood amongst the glass but he pulled himself away from the precipice of that edge and focused on Declan, seeing first hand, the fury in his eyes. He’d been sufficiently warned about hurting Mallory but he‘d been too far gone to notice that she’d come too close to him. By the time he’d understood that she’d moved closer to him, it was too late; she’d been hurt because of him…again.

Rory put his hands up in a defensive pose to ward off Declan’s advances as he stared at Mallory willing her to surface. The scene had been too surreal, too much like that a fateful night. He’d been upset and uncontrollable and she’d paid the price. How could he have subjected her to that once more?

Declan watched his brother keenly, seeing the frenzy in his eyes and stood down but did not move. He was waiting to hear the word from their friends before he reacted. When he entered the lounge and saw Mallory lying on the floor, he’d felt the same rage that lurked just below the surface five years ago. Suddenly, he’d been transported to the moment he’d seen Rory and Mallory at the top of the staircase. Just as before, he was paralyzed with fear unable to move a muscle to help.  His initial reaction was to act, to grant Rory the gift of pain but after he tossed him into the wall, he could see easily that his brother was in the throes of another attack. That alone was the only thing saving Rory from receiving the beating of his life.

Panting, Declan glanced over his shoulder and caught Jen’s worried expression. He clenched his fists as he faced his brother, barely holding on to any semblance of control. “For your sake, Rory, she better wake up.”

Rory stared at Mallory and nodded three times, “If she’s hurt, I’d welcome the beat down.”

Savoy narrowed her brow and stepped around Desmond and Patrick, heading straight for Rory, only to be stopped, once again, by Declan, “You’d welcome the beat down?  You aren’t happy with taking everything from her, are you Rory? Hasn’t she given you enough?” Savoy flailed about, her rage propelling her, “I’m going to kick your ass, Rory. Even if she wakes up, I’m going to fuck you up so bad; I’ll fix whatever the fuck’s wrong with you!”

Declan grunted as he stood firm, pushing against Savoy, “Savvy, enough!”

“This is the last time you do this to her, you motherfucker!” Savoy screamed as the tears began to well in her eyes. She pushed against Declan even though she knew she wasn’t going to break his hold, “Why can’t you just leave her alone? Why come back and start this shit all over again? She’s trying to get over you!”

Rory took a step forward, struggling to push the anxiety down. No one knew what Mallory meant to him, least of all some lanky woman, claiming to protect Mallory. Savoy hadn’t known the years of agonizing over his actions, the indecisions, the pain, the suffering he’d felt for taking so much from the woman he loved.  She only knew what others had said, she didn’t know that he would gladly give his life to give even an inch of happiness to Mallory.

“You don’t know a goddamned thing about me! You don’t know what I’ve gone through since that night!”  Rory shifted his eyes to Mallory once more, his anger abating slightly, “You don’t know how much I want to cut my heart out for her…To give it to her as penance.”

“Why do you keep hurting her?” Savoy asked her voice filled with pain. “Haven’t you done enough?”

Just as Rory was about to give her the answer, he heard Mallory groan and was instantly by her side.  Cautiously, he looked to Jen who stared at Rory uneasily. Rory nodded and inhaled deeply, releasing his breath slowly. It took a mighty force to stave the compulsion to clean but he gritted his teeth and pushed past it, instead reaching for Mallory. Thankfully, from what he could see, Mallory hadn’t suffered any significant damage; there were a few nicks on her arms and one on her cheek but he wouldn’t be  satisfied until she was thoroughly checked  out by a doctor.

 Rory took her into his arms gingerly and watched as her eyes fluttered open, his heart slamming against his chest. Although her world was dark, his flooded with light the moment he looked into her eyes, remembering the insatiable light he’d found within them.  Managing a smile, he lifted his hand and gently moved the tiny pieces of glass, counting to three softly.

“Hi,” he whispered lowly. He ran his hand over her cheek three times before she reached up and took his hand. Rory’s expression faltered as he held her hand in his, bringing it to his lips, “I keep hurting you, Mallory…”

“It was a mistake, Rory. You were…you were too far gone to realize what you were doing,” Mallory answered slowly. She could feel the tiny shards of glass on her back but could gauge that there wasn’t any significant damage; if anything there would be bruising and a few nicks and scratches. No, she wasn’t worried about her body as much as she was worried about her heart. Just a few minutes alone with Rory and she was reliving the heartache as if it were pressed upon her anew. She had no doubt that Rory was remorseful, his actions was evidence enough. But she couldn’t relinquish the anguish visited upon her by the memories of that night. As much as she wanted, she couldn’t quite reconcile the pain, especially when the one who’d caused so much of it was currently holding her in his arms. Still the same, she remained composed, moving stiffly to rise, “It won’t happen again.”

As a unit, Patrick, Jen, and Desmond moved to help Mallory stand and she could feel their hands skimming across her skin, checking her over. Relief flooded her senses and she smiled faintly as she reached for them all, “I’m fine, guys. It’s the table I’m worried about.”

Rory stood and forced himself not to look at the shards that were scattered about the floor. Clearing his throat three times, he twitched and shook his head, “I-I’ll take care of this with the management and then…then I’ll take you home, Mallory.”

“You’ve got some nerve,” Savoy piped up as she shrugged Declan off. Moving swiftly, she came to face Rory and stood within inches of his face, “What makes you think that she wants you around?”

“Savoy,” Mallory intoned roughly, “I can handle this, alright?” She stood away from her friends and extended her arm. When she felt Rory take it, she sighed, “I need time, Rory, okay?  We’re going to talk, we’re going to put these old ghosts to rest but…I need time.”

One, two, three…

“H-How much time will you need, Mallory?” Rory asked his tone tinged in fear.  He wanted this done already, wanted to be on the path of forgiveness and eventually acceptance. He wanted her heart once again.  But he realized, with some trepidation that he’d have to secede control to her. That thought alone was enough to bring back the compulsions and he snapped his fingers three times.

Mallory reached for his face and spoke softly, “Calm, Rory…calm.” Running her hands over his worried brow, she sighed, wanting to alleviate the anxiety for him. Instead she shook her head and let her touch drift away, “I’ll let you know, alright, babe?”

“Alright…alright…alright,” Rory answered as he took a step away from Mallory and started toward the door, “I’ll give you the space you need.”

Left bereft by Rory’s departure, Mallory dropped her hand and called out to him, “Rory, wait!”

At her command, Rory paused and remained still, hoping that she would rescind her demand for time.  He trembled with anticipation, the numbers running relentlessly in his head.  The night had taken its toll on him and he could feel the compulsion ramping up. There would be no sleep for him tonight; he’d probably spend hours cleaning his already spotless bathroom and painstakingly measure each item in his closet for linear consistency. Yes, his night of hell was just starting but he would do it all over again just to have this moment with Mallory.

The pulsating dance music invaded the cavern of deafening silence, neither one ready to speak the words that needed to be spoken. When Rory turned to face Mallory, he saw the pained expression on her face and had no choice but to go to her. Crossing the floor in two strides, he took her into his arms and held her close, his eyes closing as the compulsions dissipated somewhat.

Whispering in her ear, he asked, “What is it, Mallory?”

Mallory held on to Rory as if he were her life line, “I worry about you.”

Rory relaxed even more as he tightened his hold on her, “Don’t worry, Mallory. I’ll be okay.” He ran his hand down the expanse of her back three times and clenched his teeth in an effort to maintain composure.

Mallory touched his face and stepped out of his embrace once more, “I don’t feel right about you going home alone, Rory.”

“You don’t have to worry about that, Mallory,” Declan said as he came to her side. Taking her hand, he squeezed it and turned to her fully, “I’ll make sure Rory gets home safely. Rory,” he continued, keeping his eyes on Mallory, “you didn’t drive did you?”

“No…”

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve done so far,” Declan admonished. Breaking his gaze with Mallory, he then looked to the crew, “I’ll pick up my car from Mallory’s place tomorrow. You guys make sure she’s okay, will you?”

“No problem,” Savoy said as she glared at Rory. She went to Declan’s side and nudged him, “If you happen to lose asshole here along the way, we’ll vouch for you.”

Declan watched as his brother descended into his own private hell once more and sighed heavily, “I think he’s paying the price for it already, Savvy. He’s paying for it in spades.”

~*~

Mallory sat before the canvas with her eyes closed, remembering the vibrancy of a life she’d left behind, the images sharper as if she’d just seen them.  She remembered the color of her own hair and the curvature of her eyes as if she were staring at herself through a mirror. She wanted to capitalize on those memories, express her loss, her gains, and her desires with one swipe of the brush against the canvas of her life.  She wanted to create, to release her fears; she wanted to be the woman who knew her station in life, who knew that with one stroke, the world would make sense once again. She wanted to foster creation with her hands and heart but couldn’t. She was blocked both emotionally and physically. Although she’d heard of some artists who were blind, she didn’t feel quite comfortable with sitting before a canvas without knowing she would be able to tell if a painting were complete. Before her accident, she prided herself with the ability to glance at a painting and predict its ending, knowing where she would strike the final stroke. Now that her world was shrouded in darkness, that confidence had dwindled, taking with it her motivation to create once again. As much as she wanted to initiate the first stroke, she just…couldn’t. And so it had been since the accident, her desires drained at the thought of what happened that night. The closer she got to the anniversary, the more melancholy she became and what was usually a show of strength and resilience amounted to nothing more than hours sitting in front of a blank canvas.

I can’t even pick up the brush.

With a small sigh, she shook her head and sat back, listening to the world around her. That was what her life consisted of now; touch, listening but not seeing.  She desperately missed seeing sunrises, the clear blue Carolina days that she’d loved as a little girl. She missed seeing the happiness on Jen’s face when she completed a piece, appreciating a cold, cloudy day. She missed the ability to see …life.

Admit it, she chastised herself, you miss gazing at Rory’s gorgeous as hell face. It was true, she did miss being able to gaze into his grey eyes, to know that in  just one glance she could  feel how much she was cherished. Sure, she could hear it in his voice and feel it in his touch but there was nothing better than seeing that love manifested in his eyes.

Exhaling heavily, Mallory massaged her temples and groaned wishing that she could just breakthrough the wall of despair-just this once. Anger coursed through her body in waves as she dismissed the feelings and memories, shoving them into the darkest recesses of her mind. Rory had taken more than her sight; he’d taken her creativity, her purpose and as she thought more about it, she allowed the anger free reign. Standing quickly, she shoved the easel away from her, sending the canvas on the floor and scattering the paints she’d painstakingly prepared. Rage filled her veins and bitter tears emerged as she cursed the remnants of a love that she wished she’d never found. As angry as she was, she knew that she could never hate Rory.  She’d given him her very essence and he’d given her his heart. It wasn’t fair that she had to navigate these confusing emotions on her own but there wasn’t anyone who understood what she was dealing with. Her friends were loyal to a fault and wanted Rory’s head on a stick- they wouldn’t exactly understand her plight.

Declan.

The sudden thought of her friend instantly calmed the fury that burned through her and she took a cleansing breath before she attempted to move. She’d talk to the one person who knew Rory better than she did, who understood just what she was facing. Maybe in talking to Declan, she would gain enough clarity to make a decision about Rory and stick with it.

Just as the doorbell rang, she took a step and slipped on the scattered paints, falling to the ground face first. Breaking the fall with her hands, she tried to get up and slipped again, feeling the slippery consistency of the paints on her floor. She could imagine that she looked a hot mess as she rolled around trying to gain purchase. Rufus barked in her face and pranced around her as she tried to make it to her feet only to slip again. If she weren’t so thrown by her emotions, she’d laugh but as it were, she was frustrated. The doorbell rang again and she groaned, deciding to crawl her way to the door.

“Come, Rufus,” she commanded, steadying herself on her hands and knees. When she felt Rufus at her head, she nodded, “Go.”

Rufus started for the door, barking jovially. Thank God, she thought as she moved slowly toward the sounds of his exuberant barking. It was a friend. Jen already knew she was taking a couple of days to get herself together so that left Patrick, Savoy, Declan, and Desmond. She hoped that it was Declan but judging from the lack of contact, she surmised that he was taking care of Rory.

Let’s hope it’s not Patrick, she thought as she neared the door. By this time, her visitor had resorted to pounding on the door and Rufus barked in response as per the norm. Her friends wouldn’t forcibly enter her apartment if Rufus weren’t at the door so she had  just a few more seconds before whoever it was  decided it was an emergency.

Finally reaching the door, she pulled herself up to her knees and threw the deadbolt, twisting the knob. When the door opened she tried to smile, realizing she’d probably looked as if she’d lost the fight she’d had with her paints.

“Mallory, are you alright?”

Mallory smiled more at the sound of Declan’s voice and laughed lightly, “Ah…yeah, I’m fine. I just had a misunderstanding with my paints.” Reaching for his hand, she asked, “Give a girl a hand?”

Declan entered the apartment and took a quick glance around to make sure she was alone, his eyes resting on the mess in the middle of the floor. The toppled easel and splattered paints told the story and as he looked into her eyes, he saw the devastation that she tried to hide from them all. Caressing her face gently, he sighed, “You tried again, didn’t you?”

Mallory shook her head and turned away from Declan, “I always do, don’t me?” Gripping his shirt, she winced and groaned, “I’m making a fucking mess of myself, literally. I’ve gotten paint all over you.”

Declan cradled her in his arms and grinned, “Yeah, you have but I fared better than the floor. Need some help cleaning up?”

“Just a little,” Mallory responded sullenly. Leaning in, she could hear his heart beat in his chest and smiled, “How bad is it, Declan?”

“Well,” Declan said as he scratched his head, “let’s just say we have plenty of time to talk while I clean up.”

“Always the hero,” Mallory replied with a wry smile. Holding on to him, she sighed, “We better get started. The last thing I need is for Patrick to see this mess. He’s supposed to be coming over later to make me feel better.” Lifting her chin, she furrowed her brow, “You’re not supposed to be here. Everyone agreed to a time to come by and pester me about Rory and Rapture. Apparently, everyone thought that being alone for a couple of days would be detrimental to my health, despite being able to take care of myself.”

 Declan could hear the acidity in her voice and sighed heavily, “No one told me about a schedule. I was just coming to check on you.” Declan sighed and closed the door, “We care about you, Mallory.” When Mallory responded with silence, he took the hint and moved on. Taking her hand, he led her cautiously through the living room, careful not to slip on the paints. He snickered as they traveled and he winced as Mallory pinched his hand, “Oww…what was that for?”

“You’re imagining me and my adventures in painting aren’t you?”

Declan started to deny but couldn’t, “You mind explaining what brought on this fit of rage? It looks like you were trying for a performance piece.”

Mallory grinned and sighed, “I wanted to see if I could do it, Declan. After five years of darkness, could I really create again?” Silence encapsulated their journey to her room and she let the connotation of her words linger.  She was just as broken as Rory was and facing that had been a hard pill to swallow. It wasn’t until she reached her bedroom door that she broke the silence, her voice now heavy, “Will this get any easier, Declan?”

Declan considered her question and looked to her, seeing the pain manifest in her eyes. Cupping her cheek, he ran his thumb over it gently and sighed, “I’m here to make it easier, Mallory. I’m always here.”

That was the one thing that Mallory could depend on and suddenly, that thought didn’t bring the residual fear from years past.

She smiled faintly and whispered, “I know, Declan. I know.”

Chapter Seven

Rory stared out at the grand vista of the city under his feet, his thoughts mired with the colliding images of the past and the present, his heart thudding heavily in his chest. Last night, he’d been on the precipice of a breakthrough with Mallory but at the last moment, he’d lost it, spiraling out of control and hurting her once again. Rory closed his eyes and saw Mallory lying among the shattered glass and his only thought then and now was how quickly he could clean up the scattered shards. It wasn’t lost on him that Declan was there to come to Mallory’s rescue, probably further endearing Mallory to his little brother- something he’d been afraid of all along. Declan was perfect for her. He was compassionate, kind, had a heart of gold, listened more than he talked, and not to mention closer to Mallory’s age than he was.  Rory couldn’t pretend that he hadn’t thought about the age difference; when he’d met Mallory, he was prideful, foolhardy sneering in the face of taboo.  When he thought deeply about it, he realized that Declan could relate to Mallory, which furthered the argument that Declan was the perfect mate for her.

Perfect.

 Normal.

All of the things Rory weren’t.

 Rubbing his face roughly, he inhaled and exhaled three times, willing to lock away the crippling compulsions, wishing that he could go one second without being a slave to his afflictions. Be normal.

“Normal,” he whispered heavily as he opened his eyes once more. He spied his reflection in the panoramic window and noticed the dark circles around his eyes, further emphasizing the weariness that hung about his body like a heavy cloak. He wasn’t normal, he would never be normal and he could thank only two people for that.

A tone shattered Rory’s thoughts and he turned toward his desk, feeling the rage as it clawed toward the surface. Coupled with the memories of Mallory, his brother, and his parents, he was in no mood to suffer fools. And apparently, his explicit directive not to be disturbed must have fallen on deaf ears, something else he had little tolerance for. With his brow knit, he answered brusquely, “What is it, Alicia?”

“Mr. McInnis, your parents are here to see you, sir…”

Fantastic, Rory thought as he lifted his eyes toward the massive cherry door, tapping his fingers on his desk three times. Although he tried mightily, he couldn’t avoid them forever. He took in a deep breath and exhaled heavily, answering, “Show them in, Alicia.”

“Yes, sir,” Alicia responded, her tone hesitant.

“Oh, and Alicia, you do know the meaning of do not disturb, correct?”

“Y-yes, sir, Mr. McInnis, I do.”

“Good, next time follow the first thought that comes into your perplexingly small mind.” Rory knew he was being harsh but he could give a shit at the moment. Standing tall, he ran his hands over his suit three times and fought the need to pace. He closed his eyes and struggled to contain the building compulsion, his eyes traveling around his vast office. He was searching for something to focus on to help alleviate the anxiety that always accompanied a visit from his parents.

He began to circle his desk when the massive cherry doors opened slowly and he heard the gentle steps and soft sighs of his parents.  He’d come full circle before he looked up at the expectant expressions of his mother and father and increased his pace.

Colin glanced at Siobhan before he approached his son, his expression stern, “Rory, take a seat son. We’re only here to talk.”

Rory continued to circle his desk until he made three complete rotations. He kept his eyes down as he made his way to the bar, the incessant counting in his head becoming overwhelming. He could feel their stares on his back and he bit back the compulsion to count out loud, instead raising his eyes and focusing on the wet bar. Their silence furthered his anxiety and as he gripped the bar he exhaled harshly three times.

“One…two…three,” he mumbled slowly, hoping that he could calm down on his own. He put his hands to work, grabbing at three glasses and beginning his tortuous routine. Painstakingly, he lined up the three glasses and asked aloud, “Drinks?”

Siobhan glanced at Colin and moved toward Rory, “Rory, it’s ten thirty in the morning, sweetie.”  She stopped just a few inches from her son and reached out hesitantly, “It’s too early to drink.”

Rory felt the gentleness of his mother’s touch, his body stiffening involuntarily. He snatched the ice bucket closer and ground his teeth together, “Mother.”

Siobhan retracted her hand and took a step back, “I apologize, Rory. It’s just; you haven’t come to see us. I’m worried about you.”

Rory sneered and shook his head three times, “Worried. That’s rich, Mother.”  He eyed the glasses and groaned when he saw that they were not aligned perfectly. Forcing the anxiety back, he counted aloud as he shifted each glass minutely. It was their fault he’d come to rely so heavily on perfection that he’d succumbed to the pressure of that perfection.  Every thought he’d had of his parents instantly transported him back to his youth where instead of living the life of free spirited child, he was pressured into decorum, demanded into perfection. The memories fed his compulsion and he began to count aloud, closing his eyes in the hopes that they would just leave him alone.

“That’s enough, Rory!” Colin roared, approaching the two of them. Rory turned to face his parents and saw the disappointment and weariness in their eyes. They’d spent a lifetime cultivating the perfect, successful son but failed to see just how much damage they’d done.

“I’d say so,” Rory responded through clenched teeth.  He was angry at them, angry that they couldn’t see what their so called loving hands had wrought.  Running his hands through his hair three times, he   shifted his eyes away from them and sighed, “What do you want?”

Colin exhaled heavily and shook his head, “Son, you don’t have to keep acting like this. You’re a grown man for Chrissakes!”

Rory wanted to rage against his father, knock the shit out of him for his impetuous assertion but instead, he could only begin to pace, reliving the years of anxiety with each step. For once, he wanted them to open their eyes and see what they’d done to him; what their severe punishments, their abandonment had done to him. The more he thought about it, the more his compulsions began to overwhelm him and he stopped pacing and returned back to the bar, back to his rituals.

Colin followed and gripped Rory’s shoulders, turning him around roughly, “Don’t you turn your back on us, Rory! We did what we had to do to make sure you’d become what you were destined to be. You are who we depend on to keep the McInnis legacy alive!”

Rory broke his father’s grip and turned back to the bar, focusing, once more on the three glasses, shifting them slightly. He could feel himself unraveling and struggled to remain composed. He felt the shadow of his father hovering over him as he eyed the glasses warily, “You conveniently forgot you had another son, is that it? Why didn’t you fuck up Declan’s life? Was he already perfect enough for you two?”

“You’re going to stop acting like a child, Rory! Now, we have things to discuss,” Colin responded tersely.

“Things to discuss,” Rory answered with a harsh chuckle. He’d finally gotten the glasses perfect and exhaled lightly, feeling himself balancing out slightly. He turned to his father and arched a brow, “Now what is so pertinent that you’d have to come and fuck up a perfectly good day for?”

Siobhan frowned and stepped forward, “Rory, honestly, we brought you up better than that. Must you use such language?”

“You brought me up, is that it? Funny, I seem to remember the nannies and their twisted punishments that YOU gave them permission to use. Do you know that if I laughed, I was locked in the cellar with no light, no food for days? I was down there for days and I could hear everything, every note of music, the voices…You left me down there while you entertained, mother!”

“It was for your own good, Rory,” Colin interjected as he stepped forward, “you had to learn decorum.”

“Fuck decorum,” Rory spat back as he reached for the bottle of whiskey. He poured the dark liquid carefully, realizing that this brief moment of clarity was fleeting. Even as he telegraphed calmness, his body was tensing; rebelling against the tenuous hold of control that his biting words had given. At the moment, he had the power. “You didn’t think that decorum was important enough for Declan, did you? As a matter of fact, you doted on him like he was the second coming of Christ.”

“We made mistakes, Rory, we can admit to that,” Siobhan admitted quietly.

“Enough of this bullshit,” Colin interrupted once again. Taking his place next to Rory, he stared at his son and narrowed his brow, “Imogene has agreed to come back to you and just in time. The Art Showcase is in two weeks.”

Rory laughed harshly, “Imogene, huh? You’re willing to have that harpy on my arm, in our family just for the sake of appearances?”

“She’ll make the perfect wife. She’ll bear you children, solidify our legacy, son,” Colin answered, his tone a touch gentler. “All we want is for you to be happy.”

“I was happy with Mallory,” Rory answered softly. He took a drink and placed the glass down, staring at it without the need to correct its position. A small smile formed on his lips and he exhaled; just the thought of Mallory, of her smile, her voice, had wiped the anxiety away and he’d felt…serene.

“Mallory Ruskin,” Colin bit out as he stared at Rory, “she’s been a thorn in the side of this family for far too long. It was a miracle that you realized your mistake in ever touching that woman.”

And just like that, Rory’s peace was broken and he gripped the bar tightly as the anxiety crept up his spine, “I didn’t realize my mistake, Dad. I…I hurt her. She was better off without me.”

“And you’re better off without her. She wasn’t the right match for you, for this family. If you ask me, she got what she deserved.”

“She got what she deserved, huh? What about Imogene? Did she get what she deserved as well, Dad?” Rory asked pointedly, even as he began to unravel once more. He’d had an inkling that something inappropriate was going on between his father and his former lover but he could never prove it. All he had was innuendoes and allegations but judging by the fire that had erupted in his father’s eyes, Rory surmised that it had been enough.

The reaction was instantaneous and Rory watched as his father sent the glasses flying with one swipe of his arm. Silence encapsulated the room as Rory stared at the shattered glass on the floor. He tried to resist the need to clean but he couldn’t and instead of unleashing the pent up rage, he fell to his knees and began to count out loud as he hurriedly picked up the shards of glass.  Lost within his compulsions, he didn’t see the blood that had appeared on each shard, instead counting faster.

Siobhan watched her son succumb and felt her heart break as she approached him, “Rory…”

“Leave me alone!” Rory wailed as he continued to pick up the glass. He ignored his mother’s plea and descended further into his madness, filling his hands quickly. He’d become a prisoner within his fears once more and once again, he had his parents to thank.

Siobhan wept as she watched her son before turning to Colin, demanding, “Call Declan!”

~*~

Declan approached the couch with two mugs of steaming tea in hand, his focus centered directly on Mallory. He couldn’t help but admire her for who she was- the epitome of beauty and strength. He’d known the moment he saw her that she would be the one to capture his heart completely. For most of the first session, he hadn’t heard a word the professor had said; instead he slipped furtive glances her way, entranced by hopeful light in her eyes or the way her lips seemed to caress her beautiful smile. Yes, he had been instantly smitten with Mallory Ruskin and with every passing second, he had fallen in love with her.  It wasn’t long before they were studying together and growing closer; he’d even taken her home to meet his mother and father in the hopes that she’d see just how serious he’d become about her.  One fateful encounter had changed the trajectory of their relationship and suddenly, Declan had found himself on the outside looking in, watching helplessly as his older brother had laid claim to the woman who’d taken his heart prisoner with just one heated glance.

Despite the heartache of knowing he would never have Mallory, he stayed by her side. If he couldn’t be her lover, he would have to settle for being her best friend.  And so as Mallory and Rory’s relationship intensified, Declan stood in the foreground, being that silent support, wondering if the moment presented itself, could he exploit it. Could he be with a woman who’d been with his brother? Could he be content knowing that his brother had tasted of Mallory’s sweet essence, plundered her depths, wielded power over her delectable body?

It wouldn’t be long before he would have his chance. Even now, as he sat beside her and held her hand tightly over the mug, he questioned his actions.  When Rory fucked up and cheated on Mallory that was the moment he’d been waiting for, his doorway. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it; he couldn’t bring himself to capitalize on Mallory’s pain. Instead, he supported her, even argued with her when she wanted to go and confront Rory about the rumors.

If only he’d been more insistent.

Declan lifted his eyes to her face and smiled as a faint smile appeared on her lips, her eyes though sightless, still holding him captive. He squeezed her hand and studied her expression before averting his eyes, the familiar pang of longing taking up residence in his heart. Once again, his dumbass brother had hurt her, and once more, he found himself consoling the woman he loved. Taking a sip of the tea and relaxed. He’d been here before. Experienced had taught him that Mallory would talk when she was ready, not a second before. So he waited patiently, listening to the ambient sounds of her home surprisingly at peace despite the turmoil that seethed just under the surface.

It wasn’t long before Declan heard Mallory inhale deeply and release it slowly and felt her turn toward him more. He placed his mug down and focused on her, watching as her expression drifted from pensive to pain.  Reaching for her mug he sat it down and took her into his arms, feeling the slight tremors of her body.

“Shh, Mallory, everything’s going to be fine, sweetheart. I promise.” Declan rubbed her back gently, hoping to comfort her, “We’ve been through worst, babe.”

Mallory chuckled lightly, sniffling as she gripped Declan’s body tightly, “Yeah, we have. And you’ve been there right by my side.”

 Declan slipped back slightly and lifted her chin to look into her eyes. He found himself getting lost within those shimmering dark pools, wanting to take this pain away from her. Caressing her cheek, he smiled, trying to swallow the emotion that was building within him, “And I will always be right there, Mal.  You can count on me when you can’t count on anyone else.”

“I can count on you, Declan. I have always been able to count on you. You’re…what I need the most,” Mallory answered quietly.  She lifted her hands to Declan’s face and ran her fingertips across the expanse of his features, “For so long, I’ve loved Rory.  Even when I knew he’d been unfaithful, I loved him. I was strong enough to love him despite the pain it caused me. But now…now, I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

Declan grasped her hand and squeezed it gently, the pain in her voice causing him to wince. He wanted to take the pain away from her, to take her into his arms and love her. He wanted her to see that even though Rory had been her first choice perhaps he hadn’t been the best choice.

Silence entreated between them as she continued to run her fingers over his face, her soft, warm touch provoking him to act. This was the moment he’d been waiting for and her disparity was heady.  For so long, he’d wanted to lose himself in her body, in her love and now it had become more than just a random possibility. She was making it a reality.

As he stared into her eyes, he smiled faintly and inched forward, his lips hovering just inches from hers, “You’re strong enough, Mallory. You’ve always been strong enough.”

He released her hand and cupped her cheek, feeling the heat grow between them. He was so close that he could practically taste her and what shocked the hell out of him was that she wasn’t stepping away. She was waiting for him to make his move, to take what she was obviously offering. Declan pushed forward and brushed his lips against hers gently. He pulled away to gauge her reaction and saw the inherent need in her expression and it gave him pause. Could he really do this?

“You’ve taken the first step, Declan,” Mallory whispered, breaking the strained silence between them, “make the best of it.”

“Are you sure?” Declan questioned as he traced her lips with his fingertips. He watched their slow progression as a wealth of heat flushed through his body. She was responding to his touch as if she ached for it. He pulled her closer, feeling the soft curves of her body against his, sending a wave of arousal to his groin. Thrusting his hand into her hair, he exhaled heavily, “Be very sure, sweetheart. Be very sure that this is what you want because once I start loving you, Mallory, I won’t be able to stop.”

Mallory smirked and arched a brow as she licked her lips, “Declan, I may be blind but that doesn’t mean that I can’t see what’s right in front of me.” Just a breath away from kissing him, she inched forward and averted her trajectory slightly and instead planted light kisses on his cheek as she moved in closer. At his ear, she whispered, “Kiss me.”

The sensual tone of her voice prompted action and Declan moved quickly, pushing Mallory down onto the couch. As he positioned himself over her, he gazed down into her face seeing not the pain of earlier but realization. It was as if she’d made that final decision and was now ready for whatever would happen between them. A pang of regret bubbled to the surface and Declan hesitated. Was he what she really wanted?

Mallory wrapped her arms around Declan’s neck and felt the tension in his body. She pulled him closer, “Stop questioning this. I’ve made my decision, Declan. I’m tired of hurting. I’m ready to move on. I’m not afraid anymore.”

Declan smiled as he bent his head to do just that, his lips skimming over her jaw. He exhaled heavily and began to nuzzle her, already intoxicated by her scent, compelled to give her more.  He flexed his hips and ground against her pelvis, reveling in the soft coos that emanated from her lips, his body on fire. He’d come to her with the intentions of being supportive, to be that shoulder she cried on. The more he thrust against her willing body, the more he found himself wanting to hear her soft cries of passion. He wanted her.

He wanted her now.

Urgency seemed to take over and the gentled kisses to her neck were suddenly not enough and he lifted only to crash his lips against hers as the placating kisses suddenly morphed into something more carnal. Declan groaned when she opened her legs to receive him and her lips parted as a response to his demanding tongue. As he settled within the cradle of her thighs, their duel for supremacy ignited a dangerous spark of passion within him and he suddenly felt as if he would die if he wasn’t sheathed by her welcoming heat.

Declan broke the kiss and sat up, his heart threatening to burst from his chest. He gazed at Mallory, at her swollen lips and the way her eyes narrowed sensually telegraphing her wicked desires. It wasn’t a game; she wasn’t substituting Rory with Declan. She truly wanted him.

Reaching for her, he pulled her up and grinned deviously as his fingers skimmed the hem of her tank top, his eyes gravitating to the sight of her very generous breasts. Lust began to flow through his veins but he knew he couldn’t rush this. He had to take his time and as he lifted the shirt slightly and tickled her soft skin, he   reluctantly forced his body to comply.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned in, his lips skimming the top of her ear, “I want to be the man you deserve, Mallory. I want to be the man you love.”

Mallory closed her eyes and clutched him closer to her body, “Then show me, Declan and stop being such a boy scout about it.”  She ran her tongue against his neck and felt him tremble and smiled, “It’s yours for the taking, Dekko.”

 Declan smirked and made his move, taking her tank top in his hands and lifting it up more. Just as he was about to lift her tank over her head, his cell phone rang.  Ignoring it, he cleared the tank and stared at the black lace that held her perfect breasts, his mouth watering instantly. Whoever was calling him could go to hell; he wasn’t missing out on this.

Chapter Eight: Weight of the World

“Declan, are you going to answer that?”

Declan lifted his eyes to see Mallory  sitting, fully dressed, at the far end of the couch with her legs folded underneath her, a small smirk on her face.  Confused and disoriented, he shook himself and stared at Mallory, trying to make sense of everything. He’d been seconds from claiming the woman who held his heart in his hand but now…now it was as if none of that had ever happened.  He could still feel the heat of burning desire   licking at his bones, imagine the softness of her skin under his hand, still see the wanton longing in her eyes but as he focused on her again, he felt and saw…nothing. It was as if they were simply having a conversation.

 His cell rang for the last time and he sighed, averting his eyes, “Apparently, it wasn’t that important.  What were you saying?”

 “Um, your phone’s been ringing off and on for the better part of five minutes, Declan. Don’t you think it could be important?” Mallory asked hesitantly.

 The connotation of her question wasn’t lost on him; she was concerned that the call was regarding Rory that his big brother was in need. It pained him to know that in the face of so much pain and heartache, she still felt compelled to put Rory before her own needs. Anger suffused through his body and instead of taking it out on Mallory, he got up quickly and walked to the window, gazing out of it forlornly. It was in that moment, that he knew that he didn’t have a chance. The passion between him and Mallory would be a reality only in his dreams.

“I still care about him, Declan,” Mallory said gently. He hadn’t heard her approach but he’d felt her comforting hand on his shoulder, soothing the raging heat of his fury. She pressed her body into his and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him tightly, “I care about you as well.”

 There was an equal amount of uncertainty and determination in her voice that Declan couldn’t ignore and he exhaled heavily as he turned to her, “I know you do, Mallory but it’s not quite the same is it?” He caressed her cheek and stared into her dark brown eyes, still foolishly seeing his future there. Her heart wasn’t his but he could never deny her of anything, least of all happiness.

“You think you know me, don’t you, Dekko?” Mallory raised her hand to run her fingers over his face and sighed, “you think that I’m willing to give Rory my heart again after he crushed it, don’t you?”

“You love him,” Declan answered dejectedly, “that’s pretty obvious.”

“I may love him, Declan but that doesn’t automatically mean he gets a pass for what he’s done. He betrayed my trust, left me when I needed him the most. He didn’t look back either.”  The pain in her voice was almost unbearable and Declan tightened his grip on her as she he laid her head on his chest. She responded in kind, anchoring her body to him, “You’ve been here for me, through everything. You’ve stood by my side and weathered all of my storms. You were here when he wasn’t.”

“I was being a friend, Mal.” Declan was pensive, his body tensing slightly before relaxing around hers, trying to remain focused. She was coming to her own realization and he didn’t want to taint her perspective. Instead he answered gently, “We all stood beside you at your darkest moment.”

“As much as that is true, Declan, you and I know better,” Mallory replied quietly.  Silence filled the moment and she exhaled heavily before speaking again, “In the beginning, I had a super duper crush on you. I was glad we started hanging out. I wanted to see where we ended up but then I met your brother and we just…clicked.”

Declan looked down and saw the tears streaming down her face, each drop like a dagger to his heart. He wanted to take her pain away but understood that she had to navigate her feelings on her own. Wiping away her tears, he shook his head, “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Mal.”

“But I do, Declan. I have to explain that while I feel beholden to one man, another has my heart. I have to explain that the thought of Rory getting close to me unnerves me. I have to explain that while his pain gives me pain, I’m delighted that he’s feeling it, feeling something!”

Mallory’s tears intensified; she was in the throes of confliction, torn between following her heart and logic and Declan’s only thought was to extract that lecherous despair. Encircling her within his embrace, he whispered gently, “Mallory, no one is asking you to choose, sweetheart. What matters is what you want, what you need.”

“I need peace, Declan. I need love,” Mallory offered sullenly. She lifted her head and Declan grimaced at the constrictive force of the pain that consumed her. She placed her hands on his face and ran them lightly over his features, “I need someone who can stand by me, without fear, without trepidation. I need someone strong, Declan.”

Declan saw her raw vulnerability and reined in the desire to show her just how strong he could be for her. With every fiber of his being, he released her, taking a step back, “Rory can be strong for you, Mallory. I’ve seen him fight for you. You are his life.”

“Rory…Rory’s broken, Declan and so am I. How can two broken people fix each other?”

“Nothing’s more important than you, Mallory,” Declan answered as the heady images of her body flashed in his mind. He’d been so sure that she would acquiesce the strong feelings he had for her, finally able to sever the oppressive bonds of his brother’s grip on her heart. But he’d been wrong. Mallory was still madly in love with Rory and there was nothing, not even the treachery he’d visited upon her would shatter that love.

Declan felt Mallory reach for him and pull him forward back into her arms, her voice soft, “I know you think that I’m in love with Rory, Declan. The truth is, I love your brother but…I’ve come to the realization that with him, perhaps love isn’t enough.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Mal,” Declan responded lowly, receiving her warmth. Holding her close, he sighed, “I know how it feels to lose out on love- I don’t want the same for you.” He felt her body tremor and squeezed her tighter, “Hey, don’t cry. Everything’s going to be alright.”

“It’s not fair to you.”

Declan pulled away as a lump formed in his throat, forcing him to clear it roughly. Stepping completely out of her embrace, he turned again to the window as the icy grip of despair began creeping down his spine.   Although he wanted to concur, he couldn’t because while he knew it wasn’t fair that his heart get trampled, crushing Mallory’s hope of finding love and peace would be the greater of the two crimes.

Laughing off his pain, he sighed, “We move from this moment, Mallory. We find our way.” He was about to concede fully before he was interrupted by his cell ringing once again. Grateful for the distraction, he fished his cell out and answered it quickly, “Hello?”

“Declan! Oh thank goodness, I didn’t think I’d ever get you! Something’s going on with Rory. He’s…he’s having difficulty.”

Declan listened to the fear in his mother’s voice and the mournful wailing sounds echoing in the background and felt his heart tighten.  Before he’d left Rory that morning, he had watched helplessly as he resorted to his usual torturous morning routine, exhausting himself before the day had begun. In the last few years, Declan had taken it upon himself to be his brother’s keeper, being discreet, whisking him to his appointments, keeping him calm and out of the crippling binds of his compulsions.  There’d been many nights that he’d spent with Rory, witnessing every soul crushing hour of his rituals striving for a perfection that never existed. Declan couldn’t snatch his brother out of the grips of this affliction and he’d felt impotent, weak and so he watched helplessly, all the while cursing what his parents had manifested in their eldest son. 

“Are you coming, Declan. Rory needs you!?”

Just before Declan answered, he felt Mallory’s gentled touch on his shoulder. Gripping the phone, he steeled his nerves before turning to face her, knowing that he would telegraph the urgency of his impending departure.  He exhaled and stared at her as he listened to his mother’s hysterics. Understanding colored her expression, the corners of her eyes tightening her brow furrowed as she listened intently. It was highly apparent that Mallory was still in love with Rory and he could no more deny her the desires of her heart than he could deny himself the last ray of hope.

He held her gaze steadily and answered without hesitation, “Yes, we’re coming.”

~*~

Rory counted silently in his head as he scoured every inch of the ivory carpet on his hands and knees, oblivious to the fact that his parents hovered just near the edge. He didn’t look at them for fear of further unraveling, the thought of searching for minuscule shards of glass keeping his brain busy. As he inched forward, he saw the smears of blood and panicked, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. Running his hands over the carpet he winced as his bloodied hands continued to stain the lush textile, the arching swipe resembling a grotesque rainbow.  Despite his dire need to clean up the blood, the need to find every sliver of shattered glass condemned him to continue his search. His compulsions, fueled by his parents’ presence would not be satisfied until the left but he couldn’t muster enough strength to pull away.

He swiped once more until he heard them approach as a unit, glancing up only to see their feet as they came to rest just mere inches. Rory forced himself to ignore them but when his father knelt and met his eyes, he cringed and started counting out aloud, once again swiping his hand over the ruined carpet.  He wanted to move away from them, to scream at them, to force them out of his office, out of his life.

But he simply couldn’t.

“Son,” Colin began, his tone filled with reproach, “it’s time to stop this madness. Get up.”

Rory moved away from him again, keeping his eyes steady on his father’s recognizing the familiarity of the fury in his steely grey orbs. He shook his head three times before he began screaming, “ONE! TWO! THREE!”

“Rory,” Siobhan cried out as she joined her husband’s side, “please, stop this! I beg of you, stop this.”  Her scent assaulted Rory’s senses and he closed his eyes tightly, willing her away. He heard her as she lowered herself before him and felt her hands graze over his hair tentatively as if searching for permission to touch him. Rory trembled as her fingers slid between the strands, his heart threatening to burst out his chest at the sound of her voice so near to him, “Sweetheart, I’m sorry for what we’ve done to you. I see the damage…the pain.”

Rory clenched his teeth together and began to sway back and forth in sets of three, as he focused on the numbers running rapidly through his head. Siobhan had never touched him in this manner, never expressed any regrets and as much as he wanted to trust her sudden admission, his fear refused to relinquish its hold on him. Instead, he pulled away from her touch and screamed once more, “ONE! TWO! THREE!”

“Rory, I’ve had enough of this. You’re going to stop this foolishness and act like a man.” Rory heard the hints of the long forgotten Irish accent that usually accompanied his father’s anger and he felt all of his resolve shatter.

When Rory didn’t respond, his father’s reaction was quick and suddenly, he felt his body being snatched up roughly and made to stand, facing his father’s wrathful glare. Rory trembled like a baby as he watched his father’s face grow red with rage and whimpered when he snatched him forward by the lapels of his suit coat. Dread coursed through his veins and he could only avert his eyes as he felt his father’s grip tighten.

“Colin!” Siobhan panicked and went to Colin’s side, attempting to loosen his grip on his son. She pulled at his arm, pleading, “Just leave him alone, Colin. We’ve done enough.”

“We haven’t done enough,” Colin answered harshly as he snatched away from his wife. Casting a cold glare toward her, he  directed, “Let me handle this, Siobhan. I know what the boy needs!”

“He doesn’t need this, Colin! I’ve called Declan. He’s on his way.” Siobhan glanced to her son as regret tinged her words, “He’s coming to help him.”

“I’m going to help him alright. By God, he  will stop with this bullshit!”

“Please…I’ll be good. I’ll be good…I’ll be good,” Rory whined. Darkness began to blanket his memories and his head lulled to the side, “I won’t be bad, I promise. I promise, I promise, I promise.”

“Be a goddamned man, son!”

Rory felt the pressure of his father’s blow as it crashed against his jaw, the explosion of pain startling him briefly. It hadn’t been the first time he’d suffered a blow similar to this one; it had been the familiar response to his many, many mistakes. And now as he attempted to refocus, he knew that resistance was futile. As always, Colin McInnis’ power overshadowed his weak resolve and his soul crumbled anew, conceding that he could not escape his thunderous assault. He readied for the next blow, already feeling kinetic energy quivering between the two. Just as he expected, his father continued to reign down debilitating blows, each strike hammering at Rory’s tenuous grasp with the now. He could only pray that his father would grow tired of this quickly and leave him to pick up the shattered pieces of himself.

Suddenly, everything stopped.  Rory could feel the weight of his father disappearing and heard the grunts and tussles as they faded away. He waited for the raw pain to descend but instead he was greeted by a familiar, soft scent and a loving touch drifting over his face. Despite the fear, he smiled and whispered, “Mallory, Mallory, Mallory…”

“Shh,” Mallory responded softly as she caressed his face, feeling the undercurrent of anxiety and tension pulsating within his body. She pulled him into his arms and held him close, rubbing his back three times, “I’m here, Rory. I’m right here beside you.”

Chapter Nine : Broken

 Mallory sat in repose, the serenity of the silence belying the tumultuous emotions that were coursing through her. When she and Declan arrived at Rory’s office, it was obvious that the two McInnis men were clashing yet she had gotten the sense that it was one sided.  The moment she stepped into the room,   all of her senses went haywire; she could hear the heavy grunts of Colin’s exertions mixing with Rory’s soft mewling of defeat and the pungent odor of blood was heavy in the air. She’d never known Colin to strike any of his boys but from past experiences, she hadn’t put it past the elder McInnis to resort to violence to making a point.

Instead of thinking, she had reacted, the adrenaline coursing through her body acting as a catalyst. It was almost effortless the way she pulled Colin McInnis away, her small body lifting and pushing his bulky frame as if he were merely a pillow. Declan had stepped in seconds later and wrestled his father away from the melee and Mallory heard the foul curses and mad ravings spewing from Colin’s lips.  Ignoring them, she tended to Rory, her fingers drifting over his face gingerly. The more she touched him, the  more she’d seen what his father had done to him; the presence of the sticky wetness on his face and his hoarse breathing indicated that he’d been beaten thoroughly, his flesh already swelling under her touch.  She’d fought through the tears as she sat with him, soothing away his anxieties. How a father could subject his own son to such horrors of his own making was beyond her but her initial reaction hadn’t been one of pondering but of action. Fury and rage burned like a furnace, the heat of vengeance emanating from every fiber of her being. Colin couldn’t be allowed to wreak such havoc in his son’s life without consequences but there was nothing she could do and that thought angered her more. Even   hours removed from the incident, Mallory could barely control the murderous thoughts that ran through her mind as she stood sentry over Rory as he slept restlessly. Rory hadn’t been fighting back.  He hadn’t even tried.

He’d been broken.

Mallory squeezed his hand and exhaled heavily, her brow furrowed, “You’re stronger than he realizes, Rory.” She lifted her other hand to trace his face gently, wincing as her fingers glanced over the swollen ridges. Her anger quickly segued to compunction; before her own accident, she’d seen the minute cracks in his façade even as he tried to cloak them with superciliousness and hubris. Years at the mercy of his parents’ brutality and neglect had left an indelible impression, one that manifested under the guise of the need to have control- by any means necessary. And now that need was   superseding the finite borders of his sanity.

 Rory shifted under her hand and she tightened her grip on his hand. It had been a while since she’d been in his company after an episode but she knew she had to tread slowly.  The last thing she wanted was to give him more anxiety. In an effort to further calm the tremors that had started to reverberate through his body, she leaned closer, kissing him softly.

“Mallory,” Rory croaked, “you’re here?”

She nodded and whispered, “Of course, I’m here Rory. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”  She stroked his cheek with the back of her hand cognizant of his wounds, “You needed me, and I’m here.”

“I don’t deserve this.”

Mallory’s heart broke anew.  For years, he’d been indoctrinated to believe that he was the embodiment of his own weaknesses and didn’t deserve understanding, love.  Anger bloomed in her chest as she answered in a stiff tone, “Don’t, Rory. Don’t do this. You are not to blame for your father’s stupidity. Understand?”

Silence echoed between them and she sighed softly. He was never easy to talk to, especially about emotions and they clashed, his legendary stubbornness standing against her wall of determination. A brief image of them entangled in a passionate embrace flooded her mind and she flushed with the heat of recognizable arousal. Their epic fights were the precursor for sinful make- up sex.  Sometimes, she believed she prodded him on purpose, teasing him in the hopes he’d ease the ache between her legs. It was a wicked game they played but one that reaped great rewards.

 Before she could stop it, a small chuckle left her lips and she quickly covered her mouth with the hopes that he hadn’t caught it.  Laughing was hardly appropriate at the moment, regardless of the memories that bubbled up.

“Would love to know what you find so funny,” Rory said roughly.

He coughed and she winced, tightening her grip on his hand. She gently ran her thumb over his knuckles three times in an effort to keep him calm and was relieved when the trembling seemed to ease up.   With her other hand, she traced an invisible line around his face, her brow narrowing in concentration. Her memory of his face was burned into her psyche and she lifted her face to his as she spread her fingers and carded them through his thick hair. Almost immediately she was rewarded with a content sigh. The silence between them was no longer filled with tension and she leaned forward, imagining that she was looking into his brilliant grey eyes. A smile drifted over her lips as she shook her head.

“Just phantoms of years passed,” she answered knowingly. She continued to weave her fingers through his hair, letting the connotation of her words settle between them.  What she wouldn’t have given to be back in his life, to be right by his side at all times instead of being the Hail Mary in his time of need.   She dropped her smile and lifted away from him, “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit with a goddamned wrecking ball but it’s nothing I’m not used to.” Rory chuckled dryly and shifted as if he intended to get up. “The bruises will go away and I’ll be back together in no time.”

 Mallory put her hand against his bare chest and spoke firmly, “You are far from together, Rory. You need take a minute and rest.” She pushed him back against the bed and groaned, “Don’t make this hard, McInnis.”

“McInnis… I must’ve really pissed you off, Mal.”  Whenever he pissed her off, she’d taken to calling him by his surname, to let him know that all of the charms he possessed wouldn’t sway her demeanor. There had been plenty of moments in the past where she’d stood her ground but there were just that many more in where she’d succumbed and delighted in calling him Mr. McInnis breathlessly as he took possession of her body and her spirit.

I’ve got to stop reliving the past, Mallory thought as she glanced away from him. The memories began to flood her senses and once again, her body betrayed her, the flush of arousal now very prevalent as her core slowly turned into liquid fire. Remaining in such close proximity with him was not an option. She had to put some distance between them.

 “It’s not that, Rory. I want you to take it easy.”

She lifted her hand away only to be captured by Rory’s firm grip. There was a hint of desperation in his hold as he raised defiantly, the tinge of pain in his voice growing with each breath, “I’m not going to lay here like some weakling. I got my ass handed to me, I’m over it.”

“Rory…”

“No, Mallory. I don’t need to be coddled.  I would think that you would understand that more than anyone else.”

Mallory could feel the familiar ripples of contention enveloping her. This was how it started between them; they’d trade barbs, devolve into pointless arguments before resorting to silence. After the silence came the recriminations, the apologies and eventually, the sex. Shivering, she slid off of the bed and stood gracefully, hopeful that her stern expression was believable.

 “Always the one to make shit hard,” she huffed as she crossed her arms about her chest. He’d started stirring, the evidence of his exertion heard in his labored breathing. Her lips thinned as she exhaled roughly, shaking her head, “Declan must’ve gotten all the common sense in this family. You’ve just been through an assault, Rory. It wouldn’t kill you to take a breather.”

“I don’t need a breather,” Rory hissed, “I need to get back on my feet. I need to show them that I’m not weak.”

Mallory turned away from him completely, her heart dropping in her shoe. The damage had been done and if she’d known any better, if she’d listened to her brain instead of her heart, she would’ve walked out at that very moment. She couldn’t though, the pain embedded within his words struck like a dagger and she clutched her chest as if the invisible blade was still protruding, the throbbing pain casting about the tortured memories she’d fought to bury. The moment they met all those years ago, she’d felt the raw, pulsating need that practically seeped from him and was enticed, not by his vulnerability but by the familiarity. Pain recognized pain and even though it was easy for her to be indifferent to her past hurts she couldn’t ignore the power that reverberated between them. They were destined to meet, their pain the catalyst to healing.

A sudden infusion of warmth and strength enveloped her as Rory’s arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her into his embrace, a soft hint of his scent provoking the rising arousal that percolated just underneath the surface. Startled, she struggled to collect herself, the rapid, almost violent throbbing of her heart against her chest mingling with the heated, invisible plumes of fiery desire. The tension that coiled in her gut slowly unfurled as his strong hands spanned the width of her waist. Anxiety prickled at her senses but she felt oddly at ease, the familiarity of the embrace chipping away at her hesitancy. She was supposed to be here for moral support but damn if he hadn’t turned the tables.

Rory’s hands drifted over her hips and lifted the hem of her shirt and she gasped as his fingertips grazed her skin, his questing touch running a fiery trail from the swell of her breasts to the crest of her hips. Mallory fought to suppress a decadent moan, gingerly biting her lower lip as her eye lids drooped. Just one touch had her intoxicated once more; his unforgettable scent swathed her senses and her body twitched with anticipation. It was as if the last five years hadn’t happened at all.

“Rory, we can’t.” The words sounded pathetic on her lips, contradicting the resounding yearning scorching through her body. His rough breaths glanced against her neck as he worked the buckle on her jeans. Her body quivered as his soft growls loosened the knots of trepidation that had kept her at arm’s length for so long. If she knew better, she’d disentangle herself from him and leave but he was pulling her back into his orbit once more and taking the last of her resolve

“I hear you talking, Mal but I’m not listening,” Rory responded in breathless anticipation, pushing her jeans roughly over her hips and forcing them down her thighs. Invigorated by the inherent need evident in his touch, Mallory moaned and let her inhibitions fly, welcoming the spark of lust that burned through her.  She’d known the way he worked, the way he thought and judging by the way his erect cock prodded at her ass, he hadn’t changed in the least bit.  And in the face of common sense, she didn’t give a fuck. She missed him, plain and simple and she was willing to take a trip down the rabbit hole once more just to capture the passion they’d once shared.

“Do it, Rory…”

“I have craved you for so long, Mallory,” Rory whispered against her ear, “wanted to tell you so much, apologize for everything.”

“Don’t talk,” she demanded as she thrust her hips back, “just show.”

 Provoking him had its rewards; in seconds her bra and shirt were flying over her head and she could hear the distinct sounds of the fabric moving over his hips and pooling on the floor. Mallory gave herself over to the sensations that coursed through her body, the rough possessive way he grabbed her and the soft tendrils of his breath as he nipped at her skin. This was the Rory she’d missed, the embodiment of strength and determination mixed with untamable passion.  She grinned wickedly as he thrust his hips forward, giving her a precursor of what was to come.  When he cupped her breasts and caressed her nipples she bit her lip in an attempt to quell the need to scream.

“Love me, Mal,” Rory whispered against the back of her neck. He was ready, his erect cock now skimming her soaking entrance with each gentle lunge. He gripped her hips tightly and entered her forcefully, sliding just enough in to allow her time to get used to the intrusion.

 His hiss of pleasure was like music to her ears and she licked her lips decorously as he slipped in deeper. For a moment, she was robbed of her breath, revealing in the sensation of his heat against hers. He was going to devour her, she was sure and his gentle sway would eventually give way to an undeniable frenzy and she relished the sweet agony of anticipation.

 The moment was beautiful in its simplicity and yet she knew that it was going to be short lived. Each thrust he landed grew in strength and she could feel the untapped passion that teemed just underneath his surface. He was like a predator, biding his time with his prey and with each plunge he drilled deeper, tempting fate. He was being gentle now but in a few moments, he was going to have her scaling the walls.

“I do love you, Rory,” Mallory answered breathlessly.

“Show me.”

~*~

The muted sounds of passion held Declan aloft and he stood before his brother’s door, his hand poised at the knob and his heart in his shoe, staring at the massive cherry wood door.  This was inevitable, he knew it but it didn’t lessen the crippling pain. As he listened to his brother bring Mallory to the heights of passion, he dropped his hand and exhaled wearily.  In a perfect world, Mallory would’ve been his but one fated meeting had changed the trajectory of his life completely. He couldn’t fault his brother; it was simply a matter of being in the right place at the right time. One glance was all it had taken for Mallory to slip out of his grasp and fall into his brother’s arms, leaving him to carry a torch that would never be fully extinguished. Declan realized that his feelings for Mallory would always be there and  there was a side of him, one he was ashamed to recognize, that waited for his brother to fuck up royally. 

“You’re an ass,” he mumbled to himself as he took a step back.  Mallory’s lustful cries grew and he felt sick as the images of her lost in the throes of sensual bliss burned into his mind.  He felt the need to leave yet it was as if he’d stepped into cement. As much as it disgusted him, he couldn’t move.

“I never took you to be the voyeuristic type, Declan. I learn something new every day.”

 At the sound of the familiar voice, Declan lifted his head and glanced briefly over his shoulder. Standing a few feet away, Imogene Washington stared back at him, her piercing green eyes dancing with merriment as if his palpable pain were her elixir. Her plump pink lips dipped into a calculating grin as she took a step closer, the designer dress that she wore accentuating every god given curve on her body. Her long sandy brown hair was pulled seductively to the side, emphasizing the long lines of her neck. She was gorgeous and Declan cursed his treacherous body for reacting, his cock hardening with each click of her stiletto against the marble floor.  When she licked her lips and smiled more, he swallowed hard and forced himself to quell the burgeoning ache in his stomach. Imogene was bad news all around and the fact that she was Rory’s ex and the reason why Mallory had lost her sight was not working in her favor.  Yet here she was, standing in front of him with an air of entitlement swathing her completely.

“I was about to leave,” Declan said just as the passion seemed to crest behind the door. He felt the heat crawl up his neck and averted his eyes, cognizant of Imogene’s relentless stare.  Irritated by her mere presence, he asked, “Why are you here, Imogene? Didn’t you get the memo the first time? Rory’s done with you.”

Imogene smiled and Declan shivered slightly. There was deception in her gaze and debauchery in her smile; nothing good would come from her being there. Still the same, she arched her brow and gave a cursory glance to the door just as the moans grew in intensity, “Appearances may be deceiving, Declan. You and I both know that Rory will never leave me completely. We’re just…on a break as it were.”

“A break,” Declan answered with a mirthless chuckle. He hiked his thumb over his shoulder and quipped, “It doesn’t sound like he’s just taking a break from you, Genie.”

Imogene scowled and exhaled, dismissing him haughtily, “Colin asked me to speak with Rory.”

Declan shook his head and began to walk past Imogene, “You and my father are severely disillusioned. If Rory finds out you’re here, that embarrassment a couple of months ago is going to seem like child’s play.” A loud thump against the door startled them both and he laughed, giving Imogene a facetious wink before starting to walk away, “Good luck with that and all.”

“What if I told you that you could have your blind little girlfriend back?” Imogene inquired. Declan paused and glared at her as she shrugged her shoulders and crossed the hall to take a seat facing the door. She licked her lips and crossed her legs, nodding toward the door, “The moment Little Miss Muffet comes out and realizes that I’m here, she’s going to run from Rory. Wouldn’t you like to be the one she ran into?”

Declan eyed the door with equal parts and trepidation. Imogene was right; the moment Mallory caught scent of the woman who’d caused her so much pain, she would flee. Imogene would see to that. There was no way he was going to leave Mallory to fend for herself, not after all she’d been through.

 He would stick around and watch the chips fall as they may.

July 2008

Rory stared into the shadows as his heart finally began to slow, the weight and heat of Mallory lying next to him warming him from within. After nearly three months, he’d accomplished what he set out to do, possess Mallory Ruskin. Admittedly, he’d done so out of spite; Declan had brought her around, parading her through the house as if to say look at what I have and you don’t! His younger brother sorely underestimated just how far he would go to acquire what he wanted and within   a matter of weeks, he’d ensnared the young beauty, effectively snatching her out of   Declan’s arms. Looking back, he now understood what he was doing; what started as a ploy to roust his brother had quickly developed and Rory found that he was infatuated with Mallory.  She had been what he was unconsciously looking for and he wasn’t keen on the idea of losing her by any means.

Shaking himself from the thoughts of the past, he shifted his body slightly to the left and sat up, resting against the headboard, staring down at Mallory. The shimmering of the candles that he’d placed all over the room in preparation for their night of passion cast an ethereal glow, highlighting her glistening skin and her springy curls that were sticking up haphazardly. Her lazy smile was indicative of just how thoroughly loved and pleasured she’d been. Rory chuckled as he tried to press the curls down, garnering a raised brow and a pursed lip from her. Shaking his head, he continued, “You and this hair; it’s everywhere.”

“Me and this hair,” Mallory responded seductively as she sat up. The sheet that had been draped precariously over her had slipped, exposing her breasts, something that hadn’t escaped his notice.  She clicked her tongue and shook her head, “Insatiable, Mr. McInnis.”

“Insatiable, huh? If I can recall, I wasn’t the one screaming my name and threatening bodily harm if I stopped.” Rory shot back facetiously as his fingers threaded through the riot of curls. He was transfixed by her beauty, spellbound by her simplicity. She wasn’t ready made, wasn’t groomed to acquiesce to his every bidding. She was opinionated. She had a genuine smile. She was more than the designer labels and status that his former conquests had sought. She had heart. She was the type of woman any man of worth would want in his corner.

And he was in love with her.

“Mr. McInnis, that ego will get you in trouble every time, sir,” Mallory said  her brow arching slightly as a soft sigh escaped her lips, “even if it is founded.”

Rory laughed and shook his head, “Hate to admit that your boyfriend is an ace in the sack?”

“Is that what you are, Rory?”

The question took Rory by surprise and he frowned at the connotation of reluctance in her voice.  How could she not know that she was his? He’d sought her out, staked his claim and took possession of her.  And she’d done the very same thing, albeit unknowingly, and he willingly gave his heart to her every time their eyes met.

Sliding down the bed and turning to face her, he moved a stray tendril from her eyes. He cupped her face lovingly as his thumb caressed her cheek, “You have to ask a question like that, Mallory? Perhaps I’m not doing a good enough job of showing you.”

“Oh you show me enough, Rory. I just want to know,” Mallory paused, contemplating her next words, “I want to know what’s in this heart of yours. Her palm rested against his chest and he felt the surge of intimate heat that always coalesced between them. It did nothing, however, to dispel the neediness in her hesitancy. She was seeking to be acknowledged, to know where she stood with him.

“What’s in my heart?” Rory asked, pressing his hand against hers. The flickering candlelight only served to enhance her beauty, the shadows playing against the supple arches and ridges of her face. He was lost in her eyes, wishing that she could see past the façade he erected to protect himself, to see what he felt for her- the efforts to show her how much he loved her.

“Yes, what’s in this heart?” Mallory repeated, thumping her fingers against his skin.

 He lifted his eyes briefly before settling back on her, holding her gaze, “What’s in this heart is a multitude of immeasurable love- love that I have for you, Mallory. You are the only one who understands me, who takes me as I am. You are the only one who can…”

Silence hovered between them as he struggled with the words he wanted to say, the pressure building up from deep within. He started counting in his head, tapping her hand with his three times. His heart threatened to burst from his chest as he looked away, the manifestations of past crimes committed against him beginning to overwhelm him. Unable to stop, he counted aloud, squeezing his eyes tightly, wishing that Mallory didn’t have to see him succumb, to see him weakened by his inability to remain strong.

Just as he was about to spiral into a full blow attack, he felt her soothing caresses on his temple and heard her voice, soft enough to keep him calm but loud enough to break the unyielding grip of desperation, “Slow, Rory.”

The simplest of demands broke the binds of his repetitive tendencies and the miracle of her touch pulled him from the edge.  He took a deep breath and opened his eyes to look at her, “You are the only one who could pull me down from the ledge, Mallory.  When I shatter, you put my pieces back together again.”

Mallory grinned reached up to touch his lips, tracing them as if his proclamation intrigued and pleased her. The moment was theirs; the words unspoken just as important as the claims made. It was serene to know that words would just drown the moment; their souls spoke for them, bound them to each other.  It was why Rory looked forward to their intimacy. He loved blissful peace that settled between them after they’d made love, the warmth, the acceptance, the sharing. Generally, Rory wasn’t into sharing, especially his emotions but being with Mallory had loosened his lips. Although he’d struggled to release the demons of his past, he’d found that the more he’d been with Mallory the easier it had been to express himself.  He could be himself without recrimination, without the pendulum of perfection swinging perilously toward the edge.  With Mallory, there was no expectation, no pressure, just understanding and happiness.

Happiness, what a foreign concept, he mused silently as he stared into her wondrous brown eyes.  She held the power of his heart in her hand.

I’ll do anything; pay any price to have this happiness with her.

2013

Rory exhaled as he held Mallory in his arms, tracing the slope of her shoulder as he stared out into nothingness. Memories of a simpler moment between them erupted, reminding him of the hope he still held in his heart for Mallory. It had been five years since they’d made love yet it seemed as if it were merely yesterday. The forgotten years had done nothing to extinguish the smoldering embers of the love that simmered between them. But there was something different. Mallory was cautious now, her caresses, although passionate, lacking the confidence of knowing that she still held his heart. It surprised him completely; he was the one who’d trespassed against her, ruined the trust she’d instilled in him for one glancing moment of pleasure. It was him who’d taken the most from her and essentially abandoned her to chase away his own demons of deceit and mistrust. Yet, she was willing to give him another chance.

At least, he hoped she was.

“Where are you?” she queried softly.  She shifted in Rory’s arms and he turned his gaze to her, a small smile coming to his lips as his eyes drank in her ethereal beauty.  Despite the hollowness in her eyes, they were still her most striking attribute; almond shaped and luminous, they were still the one thing that convicted him anew. She may have not been able to visually see him but he would wager that his soul was far clearer to her than any smile he could give her.

Rory stared at her for long moments, his fingers traveling the expanse of her jaw before caressing her cheek, “I was just remembering the night we became official.”

“Oh yeah, I remember that night,” Mallory responded as she reached for his hand. Gently, she guided them over her lips and Rory shuddered at the sensation of the softness against his skin. She chuckled and frowned, “Nervous, Mr. McInnis? That’s not you at all.”

“Just a little bit,” Rory answered hesitantly.

“Why?”

“Well, we haven’t had the talk yet.” Rory waited for a moment, averting his eyes as the anxiety bubbled just under the surface. Right on schedule, he’d started counting in his mind, his fingers tripping over her lips in threes. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing himself to push through, “It’s been five years, Mal. Five years of nothing but silence for me. I’m sure you want some answers.”

Rory focused on Mallory once more as she lifted her hand to touch his face. Her fingers moved gently against his face, her expression filled with trepidation, “I don’t need any answers, Rory. You did what you had to do. I don’t fault you for that.”

“But I just left you, abandoned you…”

“And I understood why. You don’t have to continue to chastise yourself for the mistakes you made.” She pulled herself closer to Rory and he exhaled, noticing for the first time that he was holding his breath. In her hands, she still held the key to his heart.

“Mistakes I don’t want to ever repeat.” Her close proximity was doing things to him, his blood searing with the ache to lay claim to her heart once more. She may have forgiven him for his past indiscretions but he had no way of knowing if she was willing to start down that road with him again.

“Well, then, I say you’ve made some progress, Mr. McInnis. As long as you are determined not to fall into the same mistakes, then we can move on.” Mallory ran her hand through his hair and smiled at him, making his heart thump violently against his chest. Her words, the heat in the familiar touch provoked his arousal, knowing from experience that she was pulling him into her once more.  She licked her lips and chuckled lightly, “I don’t have time to worry about the past, Rory. I’ve come to terms with my blindness and blaming you won’t give me my sight back so it’s pointless to give it another thought.”

He couldn’t believe that this was happening. She should’ve been furious, filled with rage but instead, she was welcoming him back into her warmth. He blinked as he inched closer to her lips, brushing his own against them. Just one pass had him in the grips of passion once again and he pressed his body against hers, the gentle scrape of her erect nipples against his chest sending a cavalcade of electric current through him. She was his again and he wasn’t going to let go.

Rory rolled her on her back and settled himself within the cradle of her thighs, positioning his throbbing cock against her pulsating heat. He moved against her and gasped as she fisted his hair, the demanding act turning him on even more. There was nothing stopping him from satiating his desires and laying the foundation for reconciliation that would stick.

“Mallory,” he breathed heavily as his cock parted slipped through her folds, “you don’t know what you do to me.”

“I feel as if I have to remind you, Mr. McInnis,” Mallory answered seductively, “to show me.”

“My pleasure, Mal,” Rory whispered as he sunk into her depths. He moved methodically, his lips skimming against the column of her neck, “I’ll never stop showing you, babe.”

Just as he was finding his rhythm there was a knock at the door, prompting Mallory to pull away slightly, “Rory, shouldn’t you…”

“Rory, honey, you shouldn’t spend all of your time locked- oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were ah, indisposed.”

Mallory’s body stiffened under his and he froze, unable to move. His forehead rested on hers as he exhaled harshly, “I’m sorry, Mallory. I’ll be just a moment.”

Mallory pushed him away, “No, it is okay, Rory. There’s obviously a reason why she’s here. I’ll just leave.” He slipped out of her and she slid away, pulling the covers to cover her nudity, “I suppose the past isn’t really in the past, is it, Rory?”

“Mallory, wait.” The anxiety crept back in as he watched Mallory, the slump in her shoulders evident of the constant emotional merry go round they were forced to endure. Her uneasiness at Imogene’s appearance was palpable, easily ascertained as if he were feeling the same thing. He couldn’t allow this to stand; Mallory had been a force to be reckoned with when he needed her strength, he could be the reassurance she needed to see this momentary road block for what it was.

Rory angrily flicked the covers away from him and stood, glaring at Imogene as he   rounded the bed and approached Mallory’s side. The silence that hung in the air was deadly as if the next breath determined the scope of life and death. Rory knelt down in front of Mallory and focused on her fully,  slipping his finger under her chin and lifting it slightly to see the tears dangling perilously from her eyes. Anger and fear churned just beneath the surface, threatening to release a potent concoction of wrath and anxiety. Mallory was hurt, again, and he was at the helm once more. Forcing himself to remain in the moment, he brushed away an escaping tear and exhaled lightly, “The past is exactly where it should be. This interruption changes nothing, sweetheart.”

“There’s unfinished business, Rory.” Mallory’s voice, although steady, held hints of trepidation. She gave him a wan smile as she wiped her own tears and pushed him away, “You need space to figure this out, babe. Figure out who and what you want.”

“I have figured this out, Mallory,” Rory exclaimed as he inched forward. He cupped her face delicately although every fiber in his body screamed for him to clutch her closer to him, to prevent the inevitable. His body vibrated with tension, the white heat of dread coursing through him, throwing the switches to his control. With great determination, he reigned in the desire to start counting, instead concentrating on Mallory. It didn’t escape his notice that his caresses were bundled into threes, the silent counting keeping him from tumbling over the precipice of oblivion. He had to stay tight for Mallory for the love and faith she’d instilled in him.

His body thrummed with nervous energy as he attempted to corral the compulsion. His chest heaved as he brushed his lips against hers whispering frantically, “You are who I want, Mallory. I want; I crave the peace I find with you. I want you, I want you…I want you.”

Mallory reached to run her fingers through his hair, her voice soft and reaffirming, “Slow, Rory. Slow it down, stay in control.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead before taking him into an embrace, “Stay in the moment, be strong. You can do this.”

“I need you to stay,” Rory murmured as he held on to her tightly. He squeezed his eyes shut, soaking in the warmth that Mallory selflessly gave him. She knew the obstacles he faced, how quickly he would unravel. She was infusing him with the wherewithal to stand against the oppressive anxiety- to fight. He clutched her tighter to his body, feeling her heart beat in time with his own, “I’m not losing you again.”

“Then handle your business, McInnis,” Mallory replied against his ear. She released him and lifted her hand to caress his cheek, her smile breaking the binds of uncertainty, “Take care of your past so we can get to what lies ahead of us.”

Rory nodded and shifted his gaze to Imogene as she stared at them, nonplussed at the show of devotion.  She stood there as a testament to all that he’d loathed; the sense of entitlement, the deception, the greed, the perfection. All of what he’d been molded into was manifesting in the form of this woman who was the embodiment of the world his father handcrafted for him. Standing up to Imogene was tantamount to standing up to his father and far less intimidating.

“It’s taken care of.” Rory kept his eyes on Imogene, his stare narrowing at the calculating smirk and subtle lift of her brow.  The challenge was blatant, almost arousing in a way. Imogene had always been somewhat of a weakness; her boldness, her tenacity was something he wanted to strangle under his foot. Besting her, breaking her spirit had been something of a sadistic pleasure.  When he was at his weakest, when his father had siphoned the last of his pride and strength, he looked to Imogene and his brash treatment of her to be the salve to the ever festering wound. It was brutish to use a woman in such a manner but at the time, she was a willing participant to the cruelness that he’d learned firsthand. After their clandestine affair was revealed, effectively destroying his happiness, the thrill had been lost. Imogene was used goods, a broken soul herself, one he wasn’t in the least bit interested in salvaging.

Rory refocused on Mallory, brushing his lips against hers before releasing her, “This isn’t going to take long. Don’t go far.”

“Rory, there’s no need for me to stick around,” Mallory protested. She was quickly silenced by his devouring kiss. His tongue slipped between her lips and dominated her fully, provoking a sensual moan.  As he consumed her completely, he felt her body relax against his, a clear indication that she was going to acquiesce to his command.

“Don’t worry about getting dressed,” he whispered huskily, “we’ve got our own unfinished business to tend to.” He released Mallory and stood fully, knowing that Imogene would be distracted by his nudity. True to form, he lifted his gaze to see her staring hungrily at his body, the subtle lick of her lips and shift of her own body hard to miss. Satisfaction trundled through him in waves at the thought of denying her what she wanted the most.

Rory approached Imogene, his gait slow and unassuming but no less deadly, “My study. Five minutes.”

“Why not send Miss Muffet here to the study and we stay here,” Imogene purred. When he came to rest mere inches in front of her, her eyes flashed with lascivious heat, her arousal filling the air between them. She was ready to pounce.

Rory grinned wickedly and stepped closer, his pectorals brushing ever so slightly against the turgid peaks of her nipples, “Study, five minutes. Take it or leave it.”

“Taken,” Imogene answered throatily, “Don’t keep me waiting long, Rory.”

Rory turned away and started for his closet, the heat of her salacious stare empowering him even more. A sly smirk crossed his lips.

She was under the misconception that he was backed into a corner.

That was her first mistake.