Author's Note: Thank you so much to each and every one of my reviewers – particularly Leddy17, LovTwii , and STforRK for always taking the time to tell me what you think. Your feedback brightens my hectic weeks.
This chapter was supposed to contain two more scenes, but it was a busy weekend … so I figured I'd post something to hold everyone over. Enjoy!
Audrey woke warm and sated, cocooned in Nathan's arms. Memories of the previous night filtered back, like watching the best movie in the world on repeat, and she basked in them. She could hardly believe that this was real, and not another dream to get her through her lonely, anxious nights. But Nathan's chest rose and fell behind her, his arm a comfortable weight around her waist, and she could hear his breathing, deep and even. This was no dream.
It had all been so deliriously slow. She didn't usually go for that, and she fully intended to show him the merits of speeding things up a little. But the man sure knew the value of each and every touch, and the results had been electrifying. She'd never felt so loved. Cherished. Adored. Or alive, as his hands and lips found ways to drive her wild that she'd never even imagined.
And then there were the things she did to him.
She held an extraordinary amount of power over the man. Last night it had been intoxicating, with him practically purring beneath her, absolutely at her mercy. In the daylight it was terrifying.
Because maybe last night she'd started putting him back together. But for years she'd been breaking him apart.
One of the first things that had attracted her to Nathan Wuornos was the fact that he was an extraordinarily good man. She didn't come across many of those in her line of work. She was accustomed to chasing serial killers, pedophiles, and other dregs of humanity. Most men in the Bureau were hardened by the job and saw her as either a threat or a screw-up. There'd been little time outside of work to search for someone less rough around the edges. So she'd been shocked and pleased to find that underneath her new partner's dry humor and New England stoicism was an honest to goodness white knight, complete with door-opening chivalry and everything.
At first she'd written it off as small town manners, until she realized that no one else in town had any manners at all. She'd never been in such a close-mouthed, tight fisted community. But Nathan went out of his way to make her feel welcome, buying her ridiculous local paraphernalia, giving her lessons on how to sound like a Mainer, and talking about her staying like it was some foregone conclusion. (Turns out it was, but he hadn't known that.) And it wasn't just that he was flirting with her – because really, she'd never met anyone more awful at flirting.
She'd known without a doubt how wonderful a man he was when he took back his affliction so Jackie could be free of hers. It was the most selfless act she'd ever witnessed – and he hadn't even known the girl. She couldn't quite fathom how he could willingly go back to a life without feeling when he'd obviously been delighted to have all his senses again – but he'd brushed off her awe as if everyone would do the same.
When she'd started bending rules to help the Troubled he'd gotten anxious, and as much as he'd hated the Rev he'd disapproved when she killed him. And on some level she'd appreciated that even when he was annoyed at her. Because he was her moral compass whenever she got a little lost.
So when he'd joined the Guard and started going rouge it had left her with a constant sinking in her gut. Letting a Troubled prisoner escape was something she might have done – but he shouldn't have. She'd known that every indiscretion was for her sake but that made it even worse, because she hated herself for being responsible for his corruption.
When she'd returned to find Haven in such disarray, its denizens shooting each other in the streets without fear of reprisal, something inside of her had snapped. Even though she'd learned to get creative when the Troubles were involved all the years she'd thought she spent in the FBI had instilled in her a firm belief in law and order. To see that obliterated, and Nathan accept its loss, had released months of pent up frustration.
But it had all dissipated when he'd admitted the Guard had kept him alive to make him suffer.
His father had warned her how dark a place Haven could be, but she hadn't believed him at the time. She'd still been enamored by the weirdness, and convinced that once she found some answers and got bored she'd go back to chasing murderers with the FBI. But later she'd seen the Chief literally break into pieces under the strain of holding the town together. Now she worried Nathan might do the same.
She turned in his arms so she was facing him. He looked utterly relaxed, and she was glad for that. But as she ran a hand over his shoulder she couldn't help but think of all the burdens resting there. She wanted to take them from him. To spirit him away to a place where he didn't have to fight and stand and hurt while everything crumbled around him. A place where he could feel all the good things in life, and he was never left alone.
Ever since she'd come to Haven she'd had a need to help the Troubled that she couldn't rightly explain, eclipsing everything else, even her search for her mother turned prior identity. As much as she'd cared for Nathan and Duke and enjoyed the life she'd built in Haven, from the moment she learned of her fate she rarely considered defying it. There was something engrained in her, to accept the cycle. Maybe Howard was right – maybe it was penance for a crime she couldn't remember, and she'd accepted the punishment a long time ago.
But she would flee this place with him and never look back if it meant taking away the pain she'd seen blazing in his eyes.
The Guard had been wrong. Lust hadn't kept her out of the Barn. But now that she had slept with Nathan that could be what kept her from seeking it again. The urgency to help everyone was dampened by her concern for him. There was one particular Trouble she wanted to cure, and everything else seemed dim in comparison.
He had left the station so exhausted and miserable she could hardly stand it. When he had taken the blame for all that had happened it had broken the proverbial dam. She had known she was hurting him before she left, but she'd thought it was for his own good. But there was nothing good about the self-hatred he was spewing except that it told her the man she loved was still in there, raging against the injustice of what he'd become.
He was too far gone to be comforted by her words. But she'd known there was another way to fix him – to give him back the missing pieces of himself, if only temporarily. Maybe it hadn't been fair, to override his mind by supercharging his body. But she'd needed to take his pain and replace it with pleasure. To make him forget this terrible burden he'd been carrying.
Because this wasn't his fault – it was hers.
And now Bernie's accusations kept running through her head and she wondered if they were true. Maybe she was a whore. Because she did want to choose this over duty. Now that she'd had a taste of everything she and Nathan could be she wanted to build a life with him more than anything. To spend every night making love and wake up in his arms and tease him in the Bronco and solve cases together and watch the awe wash over his face when they fell over the cliff together. She didn't want to walk into some Barn and forget Audrey Parker and how she'd come to life the day Nathan pulled her from a dangling car.
But she had told him to stop thinking, and all she could do was take her own advice. She had slept with Nathan, and there was no undoing that. She had vowed she would find another way to fix this, and that was what she'd have to do.
To accomplish that they'd probably have to go to the station, as much as she never wanted to leave this bed. According to the clock on Nathan's nightstand it was already nearly eight.
The only positive was she could wake him far more pleasantly than an alarm clock.
Starting at his nearest shoulder, she trailed a line of soft, wet kisses across his collarbone and up his neck. She was surprised when he did not startle awake or react to her touch, but by the time she reached his jaw she noticed his eyes were open and following her.
"Morning," she drawled, placing one last kiss on the corner of his mouth.
He swallowed, his eyes wide. "Hi." His voice was low and raspy and she found it undeniably sexy even as he was looking at her like he couldn't quite figure what she was doing in his bed. Oh her adorable, awkward man.
Stifling a giggle, she shifted down and nuzzled into the crook of his neck, pleased when his arms tightened around her. She pressed an open palm above his heart, feeling it race under her hand. His fingers drifted across her back, and she let herself absorb the peace of the moment, wishing she could store it away to keep her sane once the world came knocking, as it was sure to do as soon as they left this room.
"I'm sorry," she whispered into his neck after a minute or two.
She felt his entire body tense and his hands still.
"Not about that!" she assured, catching his drift. She pulled back so she could look into his face and chase the fears away. "Last night was…"
"Incredible," they said almost simultaneously. She was so glad they were back in sync.
"Mmmmmhmmmm," she hummed. "For someone with absolutely no game with chicks, you certainly have some moves."
He didn't take the bait, instead flashing her a cocky smile. After the night they'd had, she supposed he'd earned it.
"What are you sorry for?" he asked after they'd grinned at each other for awhile like love sick teenagers.
She sighed, almost wishing he'd let her comment drop. They needed to have this conversation. But she'd really rather they didn't. "For making a scene at the station yesterday. Wait, no—"
He squinted at her. "You're not sorry about making a scene at the station?"
She pulled away, running a hand through her hair, which was a tangled mess. "No. Yes. I mean I'm sorry about the yelling. But the manhandling was not okay, mister!" She punctuated her point with a few prods to his chest.
"I had to protect you." His tone allowed for no argument, and she wanted to roll her eyes at how quickly he could turn caveman on her.
Instead she went for honesty. "I know. That's why I'm sorry."
"What are you talking about?"
She sat up and suddenly wished she was wearing clothes. She pulled the sheet around her and crossed her arms across her chest, but covering up didn't make her feel any less vulnerable.
"I'm so sorry for everything you went through while I was gone. The Guard made you suffer because of me. You had to hold Haven together because I left it in a mess. Even before the Barn I was hurting you. This isn't your fault – it's mine. You'd be better off without me."
"Are you crazy?"
"Hey!" she protested.
He sat up as well, but he didn't try to cover himself. She had to force herself to look at his face, not his chest.
"Didn't you see me the night you came back? I'm not better without you! Don't you dare even think that."
He had been ruined, but it should never have come to that. "You were supposed to be fine on your own. You weren't supposed to fall in love with me!"
"Little late for that." He said it with such finality, as if it was a universal truth and not something she could wreck if she tried hard enough or just kept being herself.
"I thought if I pushed you away you'd get over it. You'd be okay when I was gone. And you'd be safe."
"Why the hell would that make me safe?"
She didn't know why he couldn't see it. It had all been so clear in her head. The only thing that made sense, really. She couldn't save herself. But she would save him. "Because I thought Lucy had been in love with the Colorado Kid. And he'd died because of her. I didn't want the same thing to happen to you."
"That's why you froze me out?"
"Yes."
"That was an awful plan."
He said it so matter-of-factly the tension that had been growing between them snapped. "Yeah. I realize that now." Hating the distance between them, she scooted forward and collapsed into his shoulder.
"You're allowed to be mad at me, you know." She was glad she wasn't looking at him when she said it. Because as much as it was true, she didn't want to see that anger contort his handsome features.
He was silent at first, and she thought he would pass up the opportunity. When he finally spoke his raw voice startled her into pressing closer.
"I hated the way you were acting. I just wanted to help you, Parker, and you'd barely even look at me. You kept flaunting Duke in my face."
She wouldn't make excuses, but she had grievances of her own to air while they were being honest. "I hated seeing you with Jordan. I wanted to be happy that you'd moved on but it killed me every time you went to her and not me. I was having seizures in that damned haunted house and you didn't even notice. I know I was the one pushing you away but I just wanted my partner back."
"It hurt too much to follow you around. I never wanted Jordan. But I thought the Guard could help me find a way to keep you here."
"I just needed you safe." It had been her driving focus those last few months. Find the Colorado Kid. Find out why the Barn always came for her, if she could. But protect Nathan at all costs. Even when the cost was making her last days miserable.
He pulled away enough to cradle her face and press their foreheads together. "That's exactly how I felt. How I still feel. I would do anything, Parker. Anything," he swore.
"Don't lose yourself," she pleaded.
"What?"
"I don't know who I am—"
"I've told you. I do."
"And I know who you are. I need that to stay true, no matter what happens. You're not allowed to lose yourself."
"I was a mess before you showed up the first time. I can't hold this all together without you."
"So we hold it all together – together. Sorry. That kind of got away from me."
He stopped her babbling with a searing kiss, and she grabbed his shoulders to pull them flush against each other. He didn't cave like he had last night, and they battled until she had to pull away to fill her starving lungs.
He only allowed her a few seconds to recover and then it was back to the best kind of drowning. His hands were everywhere as he pushed her down on the mattress. Seemed like he didn't have trouble with fast after all.
Just so long as it was fast.
As if he'd heard her wayward thought he pulled back far enough to give her a long suffering look. "You're going to tell me we have to get back to the station," he groaned.
"Am not." But she didn't sound convincing even in her own ears. Then one of his hands found its way under the sheet and she let out a squeak as it traveled lower.
"Was gonna say now might be a good time to join me in the shower."
He didn't need telling twice. He slid out of bed and scooped her into his arms, but she was still half tangled in the sheet, which almost sent them both crashing to the floor when it wouldn't come untucked from the mattress. By the time Audrey freed herself she was giggling uncontrollably.
"Smooth, Wuornos."
He grunted and picked her up again, carrying her toward the bathroom. "You didn't fall for smooth."
She laughed at what might have been the understatement of the year. "True. Fell for good."
Once they were finally standing under the faucet together joy flooded her at the way his face lit up when the water hit him, mixing with her arousal to send her cart wheeling in a heady swirl, and he was barely even touching her yet. Was this how she made him feel, she wondered as she pressed against him so the heat could wash over his skin.
"Fell for you," she whispered, before showing him just how hard she had fallen.