Promised (Page 101)

I dare not venture from my silent darkness. I dare not present my injured soul to the world, which puts me further into seclusion than I ever was before I met Miller Hart.

Tears start to pour from my eyes. Visions of my mother’s face morph into mine, and my head jerks from the lash of my nan’s palm slapping my face.

‘Livy?’

‘Leave me alone,’ I sob, pulling my numb body onto my stomach and hiding my tear-drenched face in the pillow.

‘Livy.’ Hands start to pull at my body and I fight them away, not wanting to face anyone or anything. ‘Livy, please.’

‘Get off me!’ I scream, thrashing my body aimlessly everywhere.

‘Livy!’

I’m suddenly pinned to the mattress, my flailing hands held firmly by my sides.

‘Livy, open your eyes.’

My head starts shaking and my eyes clench tighter. I’m not ready to face the world yet – probably never will be. My arms are released and my head held still, then the familiar softness of slow-moving lips are on my mouth, and I can hear the low hum that I love so much.

My eyes fly open and I scramble to sit up – shocked, disorientated and sweating. I’m having heart palpitations and I can’t see anything with my wild hair messy and falling all over my face. ‘Miller?’ My hair is pushed from my eyes and he slowly comes into my line of sight, concern etched all over his impossibly beautiful face.

‘I’m here, Livy.’

Awareness finally hits me and I launch myself onto his kneeling body, knocking him to his back. I’m deranged but relieved, terrified but calm.

It was just a dream.

A dream that made me feel all too vividly how it might be if he’s gone. ‘Promise me you won’t abandon me,’ I mumble. ‘Promise me you’re not going anywhere.’

‘Hey, whatever’s brought this on?’

‘Just say it.’ I sink my face into his neck, unwilling to let him go. I’ve had dreams before, I’ve woken up and wondered if they’ve really happened, but this was different. This was frighteningly real. I can still feel the ache in my chest and the panic engulfing me, even now when he’s got me firmly in his arms.

It takes some effort on his part, but he eventually prises my clawed fingers from his back and detaches me from his body. Sitting up and placing me between his thighs, he circles my neck completely with his palms and tilts my head until our gazes lock, mine brimming with tears, his with tenderness. ‘I’m not your mother,’ he says firmly.

‘It hurt so much.’ I’m sobbing, trying to reassure myself that it was just a dream – a stupid, stupid dream.

His face falls. ‘Your mother walked out on you, Livy. Of course it hurt.’

‘No.’ I shake my head in his hold. ‘That doesn’t hurt any more.’ This new fear has drowned any sense of abandonment that I felt before. ‘I’m better off without her.’ He winces, his eyes closing painfully at my harshness. I don’t care. ‘I’m talking about you,’ I whisper. ‘You left me.’ I’m aware that I sound needy and weak, but my desperation is crippling me. Compared to how I’m feeling now, coping with my mother’s abandonment seems like a breeze. Miller’s shown me comfort. He’s accepted me. ‘I’ve never felt pain like it.’

‘Livy—’

‘No.’ I cut him off. He needs to know. I move from his personal space, shifting myself across the bed so I’m out of touching distance.

‘Livy, what are you doing?’ he asks, reaching for me. ‘Come here.’

‘You need to know something,’ I murmur nervously, refusing to meet his eyes.

‘There’s more?’ he blurts, pulling his reaching hand back, like I might bite him. He’s cautious, wary. It doesn’t boost my confidence. I’ve shocked Miller Hart with my dirty little secrets, more than he’s ever shocked me with his moods – transforming from domineering to passive and from cold-hearted to loving faster than I can keep up with.

‘There’s one more thing,’ I admit, hearing him draw breath, preparing himself for what I might hit him with next. For him, this might be the biggest shock of all.

‘I believe we might be conversing, Livy.’ His tone is clipped and intimidating, the one that makes me take notice, whether I scoff at it or cower. Right now, I’m cowering.

‘You still fascinate me,’ I say, looking up at him. ‘All of your set ways, your faffing with things when they’re already perfect, and the way you have to have things just so.’

He’s frowning at me, and for a split second I think he might deny it. But he doesn’t. ‘Take me as I am, Livy.’

‘That’s what I’m saying.’

‘Elaborate,’ he demands harshly, making me cower further.

‘You take command over me,’ I start nervously, ‘and it should probably frighten me or perhaps have me telling you to piss off, but . . .

‘I believe you might have told me to go to hell last night.’

‘Your fault.’

‘Probably,’ he relents on a grunt and a roll of those blistering blue eyes. ‘Continue.’

I smile inwardly. He’s doing it right now – being brusque and starched, but it’s terribly alluring, even when it’s bloody infuriating. I feel so safe with him. ‘I don’t know whether my heart can survive you,’ I say quietly, watching closely for his reaction, ‘but I want to take you as you are.’ I shouldn’t be surprised when his expression remains completely blank, and I’m not, but those eyes tell me a little something. They’re telling me he knows how I feel already. He’d be pretty stupid not to. ‘I’ve fallen.’