Freeing Him: A Hart Brothers Novel, Book 2 Read online

  “I think you may eventually have an in with Kestrel. He wants out,” he says.

  “I doubt it. He’s too afraid to do anything. I’m so worried about Kolson, I can’t think straight.”

  “I know you are. He’ll show up.”

  “Call me if you hear anything.” I end the call.

  My life is nothing but a never-ending roller coaster. I’m nauseated and I can’t sleep. When will this crap end?

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Kolson

  Case says to lay off the bottle, but fuck that. It’s the only thing that numbs me. Storm. He fucking shot Storm. Why didn’t I steal him away from there years ago? The beautiful animal that saved me so many fucking times. I know the answer to that. The dragon would’ve found him and taken him back home since he was the rightful owner. And then he would’ve pressed charges, I’m sure. I want to scream with the agony that shreds me. I must find my way back to Gabriella. I need her so badly right now. My body craves her. But I can’t go to her like this. I’m a wreck. I’ve half a mind to drive out to his fucking compound and shoot his ass … to let him see how it feels. Better yet, lock him in the dark.

  I pick up my glass and hurl it across the room, watching it shatter in small shards. Then I pick up another and another until there are no more glasses to throw. That’s what he keeps doing to me—splintering me into nothing but shards. He’ll continue until there’s not anything whole left, unless I find a way to stop him. Hatred envelops me, darkens me, and I don’t want it. I don’t want to feel like this. I need Gabriella’s light. I need to feel her soul.

  What am I going to do now? My blood boils with loathing, but I’ll find a way. I have to because now I not only seek vengeance for myself and Gabriella, but I also have to avenge the death of Storm.

  Storm gave me my life back, and I will take Langston’s in return.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Gabriella

  The bed shifts under his weight as he slips in beside me. I’m not alarmed, even though I should be. It’s been days since I’ve seen him, touched him, smelled him, and tasted him. This isn’t something I should want. I should be shouting at him to get out. My anger troubles me. I’m annoyed with him for leaving the way he did, yet I’m conflicted because I want to pull him into me and soothe him. Push him away, my mind screams. Tell him how you feel. I can’t, though. My body yearns for him, betraying me, as it reacts so wickedly. His arm slides around me, pulling me into the curve of his side, and I hear him inhale as he nuzzles my hair. My breath hitches as his hand inches higher and takes a hold of my chin. Lips graze my cheek and I sense something raw about him, about the way he touches me. He’s different now. Edgy, maybe. And sad.

  Nudging him, I roll over and squirm my way beneath him and then grab his face with both hands. In the dim light, that’s when I notice how much of its fullness is gone. It’s all angles and shadows. My hands slide to his body, reaching for the beauty and symmetry I know I’ll find. Unyielding steel is what my hands discover instead. Hot and smooth, but again, all softness has vanished. Not that he was ever truly soft, but now …the change is drastic.

  He doesn’t give me time to puzzle it out. My shirt is shredded as he growls in my ear. He’s all tongue, lips, and teeth as he sensually assaults me, spiking my desire. My anger is forgotten as lust fills my veins. I reach for him, aching to feel his cock in my hand. He violently shoves my hands away but doesn’t speak as he continues to invade my body with his tongue. When he gets to my sex, I cry out his name, which spurs him on. He spreads my legs further and drives his tongue deep into my tunnel, then circles my clit as he slips first one, then another finger inside me. My orgasm approaches and when he doesn’t stop, I clench his fingers with my muscles as I come all over his hand and mouth.

  When my spasms pass, he climbs on top so he’s positioned for me to suck him off. I gladly give him what he wants. He tastes like nothing I’ve ever had and, oh, how I’ve missed this. He’s hesitant at first but I hook my arms around his thighs and pull him into me, sending his cock straight to the back of my throat. I moan and that tiny vibration sets off a series of deep groans. That sound, that only he can make, is a near orgasm in itself. I double my efforts just to keep hearing it. His sac weighs heavy in my hand and I squeeze it exactly like he loves it, pressing my finger on the place directly behind it. I can tell he’s close by the way he tenses when he pulls out with a vicious jerk. He scoots down, and still straddling me, he teases my clit with his cock. Around and around, up and down, but then he stops, grabs my arm, and pulls me up so we’re face to face.

  “Put your arms around my neck and don’t let go.” Those are the only words he’s spoken to me thus far, and they make my weak hold on the tears I’ve been forcing back loosen. They bubble past my lids and leak down my cheeks as he enters me with an aching, unhurried pace.

  His tongue catches the glistening drops as he slowly pulses back and forth, back and forth, and heat burgeons within me, setting me on fire. I’m full, he’s so deep, kissing me where no man has, and I’m reeling with emotions.

  “Don’t,” he murmurs as he licks my tears again. The last thing I want to do is break down in front of him, but he’s making it damned difficult.

  My breath is ragged as I take in air.

  “Love me, kea. Just …just love me. I need your soul. I need your light to heal me.”

  A whimper escapes me, one I’ve tried to hold back, as my heart stammers. I shudder as he fills me deep. My thoughts fly back to the day he confessed how he thought he wasn’t good enough for me and my hold tightens around him. Then his mouth slams against mine. His tongue pushes past my slightly parted lips as he kisses me roughly, thoroughly, savagely. He seeks something, but I’m not sure what. Reassurance? Security? Help with his grief over Storm? I wish I knew, but those are things I could use right now too.

  “God, I’ve missed your sweet mouth every day. No man should be allowed to live without ever tasting something like this.”

  Our tongues swirl, twisting together, taking, and giving as we fuck each other’s mouths. Intense. Moving. Sensual. All the above rolled together. That’s what Kolson Hart is. And right this moment, I’m not sure where he ends and I begin.

  As we kiss, his pelvis tilts against mine, and he takes it faster and faster. His piercing slides over my G-spot, hitting it, teasing it, stimulating it until I quiver in his arms and suddenly climax, splitting apart, my sex clenching his cock in a series of potent contractions.

  “Ah, ah, ah, Gabriella,” he cries as he comes. I feel his warm fluid bathe me and when he’s done, we gaze at each other. Is this when the awkwardness sets in?

  Once more, Kolson has the element of surprise on his side. He shocks the hell out of me when he says, “I love you, kea. I was right all along when I said you were too pure for me.” He rests his forehead against mine. “There are things you need to know. Things I need to tell you. I’m so sorry. Sorry I had to leave you the way I did. I just couldn’t deal with Storm. You know.”

  “Kolson, I …”

  He stops me with a kiss. And then says against my mouth, “Remember that day I told you I never intended for you to fall in love with me?”

  “Yes. I remember it well.”

  “I wish you hadn’t. For all of the beauty that exists within and around you, I’m afraid that I’m only going to be a source of hurt and disappointment. But know I didn’t intend for it to happen this way. I only wanted to keep you safe. Forever. Promise me you’ll at least try to understand why I did it.”

  “Kolson …”

  He pushes me back and lies above me, resting his weight on his arms. Eyes, hazy with torment, drill into mine. “I’ve never known anything so beautiful in my life.” He cups my face and presses his lips to mine. “Now I’m going to dirty you with my ugly, nasty secrets. You’re finally going to hear the sick truth about how fucked up I really am.” The muscles in his throat constrict and he works to swallow. “You’ll finally know why I couldn’t tell you. Why it was
so difficult for me.” His face contorts with agony as a fine sheen of perspiration glows on his skin.

  Holy shit! This was so not what I expected him to say.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Kolson

  Gabriella surprises me when she says, “Before you begin, Kestrel met me for lunch the other day and told me something. He said that your father bought you.”

  She’s just opened the door for me.

  Her lower lip trembles. I know her heart aches for me. She’s that way about things. So damn empathetic.

  “Yeah. He did. It was all legal. He made sure everything was done in a way that could never be challenged. He had employees who got into gambling debt. Single mothers. He did his research on them to make sure there weren’t any fathers in the picture anywhere. Then he’d ‘bail’ them out by buying their kids. We were those kids. He wanted a triad to carry on his name. He made it look like he was some sort of philanthropist swooping in to save us boys. Nice of him, huh?” Bitterness and hatred threaten to consume me, but I have to get this out. She needs to hear it all because I’ve withheld the truth from her far too long. As painful as it is for me, I’ve been selfish. She deserves to know.

  Then, as is her fashion, she crawls on top of me where I can see her glistening cheeks, and she takes her hands and cradles my face. “Kolson, whatever he did, don’t you ever, ever feel ashamed. He did this to you. He’s a vile, horrid man. He forced things on you that you had no control over. Do you understand me? And I love you and will love you, no matter what you tell me. I swear it.”

  “Jesus, kea, you just don’t know.”

  Her thumbs smooth the lines over my eyes and then gently press beneath them.

  “Tell me.”

  It’s an effort to get the words out, but I force them. “My first memory is waking up in total darkness. I was so cold. Freezing cold. Scared shitless. Calling for my mom until my throat was raw. No one came. I’m not even sure how long I was there. The main thing I remember is my Spiderman pajamas. I remembered wearing them to bed. They were thin and soft and they weren’t very warm. It was pitch-black. Darkness surrounded me, along with his evil presence. I could hear that door squeak and scrape the floor when it opened every time he’d come and go, and I was so fucking scared. I kept screaming for my mom. For the longest time he said nothing.

  “Then I guess he eventually got fed up and that’s when he started threatening me. He told me she didn’t want me anymore and wasn’t coming back. He said if I behaved, he’d bring food and water. I didn’t have a toilet so I was peeing all over myself. Shit, I was such a mess.”

  Her hands brush my hair back and she says in her soft, sweet voice, “He’s not here now, Kolson. I’ve got you.” Her perfect lips touch my cheek and I want them to stay there because she makes me whole again.

  “That’s not even my real name. He turned me into that. Forced me to become Kolson. I was born Jason Ackerman. And I cried when he yelled at me. He told me that wasn’t my name anymore. He kept me in the dark for weeks and weeks. Told me I would stay there until I knew what my proper name was. He wouldn’t feed me until I said my name was Kolson. He told me my mom didn’t want me anymore because I was a bad boy. And for years I believed him. I was barely seven when he stole me. I lived in a cage, Gabriella. I didn’t know it until I finally saw the light of day. A fucking cage. A tiny room with three black walls, no windows, and bars, like a jail cell. I didn’t have a bed to sleep on, only a blanket on the floor. The room is downstairs. Close to his fucking wine cellar. That’s why I froze that day he wanted me to get more wine.”

  And then it happens. I’m pulled back into one of those fucking memories. Which is why I never want to talk about it. I’m trying to stop it, but I lose control. The room spins, her voice fades, and once again, I am that seven-year-old kid, curled up in that pitch-black room.

  “I want my mommy!” My throat burns from screaming for I don’t know how long. It’s so hoarse I can barely speak.

  “Your mother’s not coming for you. Ever. She doesn’t want you. Stop it! Now.”

  A large hand clenches my shirt and hoists me up, but I’m so disoriented from the blackness, I don’t know what’s up or down. I’m dizzy and scared. I whimper.

  “Stop that crying.”

  The mean man pulls me close to his face. I notice his smell. He smells … nice. But I hate it. I hate that smell. Because it smells like him.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Ja … K-K-Kolson.”

  He laughs. “Again. What’s your name?”

  “K-K-Kolson.” I’m suspended in the air and suddenly I pee my pants. It’s warm and runs down my leg, to my foot, and drips off my big toe.

  “Well, damn. I think I’ve finally got you. What’s your name?”

  “Kolson.”

  “Kolson what?”

  “Kolson Hart.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Kolson Hart.”

  “And who am I?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He sets me down and I hear some noises. Something clicks and for the first time in forever, a dim light turns on. I cover my eyes because it hurts. It feels like I’m looking at the sun.

  “Kolson Hart, meet your father.” And the mean man laughs.

  I spread my fingers apart, partly because my eyes hurt from the light but also because I’m so scared of the monster man. But he’s not ugly and scary-looking at all. He’s nice looking. Not like he could be the mean man who’s been coming to me. But I know he is. It’s the same voice. And that smell. I’d know him anywhere.

  Her hands running through my hair are my first indicators that I’m back with Gabriella. When I open my eyes, I find I’m burrowed in her lap, my face squished against her stomach and my arms wrapped around her.

  Our eyes meet and she asks, “Are you back with me?”

  It takes a second to orient myself but I tell her I am. I notice her skin is damp from my tears. I’ve been crying. I need to get up, but when I try to move, she tightens her hold.

  “Don’t move. And don’t be embarrassed or ashamed. I know you better than you think I do. That’s what you’re feeling now, isn’t it?”

  I bow my head, because I am humiliated.

  “Kolson. Please talk to me. You fell back into a repressed memory. Don’t pull away now.”

  She’s right. So I tell her all about it while she holds me in her lap.

  “You were talking through it, screaming a little too, so I sort of figured it out.” Her hands keep running through my hair.

  “Ah, fuck. That’s why I hate opening the doors to my past. It’s like I get sucked back in that goddamn dark hole. And things I’ve concealed, tucked away, you know? They come ripping into me and I lose control and ever since I left you, I have nightmares again. They stopped when I met you. Disappeared. But when I’m away from you, they creep back in and rob me of sleep.”

  “Kolson, this is a good thing. Right here. You and me, talking about your past. Your repressed memory. And I know what you’re probably thinking. Me the shrink and you the patient. But that’s not what I mean. Psychoanalysis is so varied, from patient to patient. If someone is functioning and not depressed, suicidal, harmful to others, and so on, and living a full life, then his or her past is what it is. You understand what I’m saying here? Sometimes it helps to clear the air. Expunge the skeletons. I know you have a lot of them. More like one giant demon. And it hurts you. Taking you back there to face him is one tiny step along the way. But you should never feel ashamed. I know what it’s like. I used to feel that way. Now when I look back, it’s shocking to me that I did. And you’re the one who clarified it all for me. Isn’t it funny?”

  I pull myself up and turn to face her. “What?”

  “That we can so easily recognize what’s right in others, but often fail to see it in ourselves.”

  “It scares me. I think that when they start, I’ll never come out of them.”

  “But you will. You’ll always co
me out. Because they’re only memories. They end, and when they do, you’ll return to the point you were when they began. And if you’re with me, I’ll be right here, holding you. I’ll make sure you come back to me.”

  “You always bring me home. You just never knew. Every time I’m with you, I’m home.”

  “Kolson, why didn’t Sylvia do anything?”

  “My mother.” I groan. “For all her good intentions, she’s about as useful as a dead battery. He sent her away. She was in the south of France on an extended trip. A six-month trip, from what I’ve been told. I didn’t know she existed. She didn’t know I existed. When she came back, he presented me to her as Kolson, their new adopted son. And he told me if I told her anything about my little room downstairs, he’d put me back in the darkness. She was never allowed down there. She’s never gone downstairs, to my knowledge.”

  “Does the woman have a brain? Did she never ask any questions?”

  “She does anything he tells her to. If he says jump, she wants to know how high. She’s afraid of him, like everyone else is. I’ve often wondered if he threatens her, like he did us.”

  “Do you think he kept you in the dark for the entire six months?”

  My arms coil around her as I bury my head in her neck. I breathe her scent in and feel it calm me. “I don’t really know. I was so young, it was hard for me to quantify time. Like I said, after I left you, the nightmares returned. I hadn’t had any since we’ve been together. You brought me out of the darkness. It’s so difficult to talk about. You know what it’s like? When you have to put yourself back inside of a memory? It’s unbearable to think about.”