Complete Me by J. Kenner
Acknowledgments
For all the wonderful readers who have taken the time to contact me through my website, email or social media to tell me how much they’ve loved spending time with Nikki and Damien. Your words, support and enthusiasm mean the world to me!
Special thanks to the folks at the German Consulate General in Houston and to Jacqueline Jugenheimer for the help with German legal procedure. Any errors or oversights are my own.
An extra hug to Kathleen O’Reilly for texting and phoning beyond the call of duty, K. J. Stone and Jessica Scott for their early reads and comments on the manuscript, and Jean Brashear for the early read, brainstorming, and lunch and coffee sessions!
Finally, a huge, never-ending thank you to the folks at Trident Media Group, especially Kimberly Whalen, and everyone at Bantam who has made this adventure with the Stark Trilogy such a wonderful experience, especially Maggie Oberrender, Gina Wachtel, and the amazing Shauna Summers.
Chapter One
Fear yanks me from a deep sleep, and I sit bolt upright in a room shrouded with gray, the muted green light from a digital alarm clock announcing that it is just after midnight. My breath comes in gasps, and my eyes are wide but unseeing. The last remnant of an already forgotten nightmare brushes against me like the tattered hem of a specter’s cloak, powerful enough to fill me with terror, and yet so insubstantial that it evaporates like mist when I try to grasp it.
I do not know what frightened me. I only know that I am alone, and that I am scared.
Alone?
I turn swiftly in bed, shifting my body as I reach out to my right. But even before my fingers brush the cool, expensive sheets, I know that he is not there.
I may have fallen asleep in Damien’s arms, but once again, I have awakened alone.
At least now I know the source of the nightmare. It is the same fear I have faced every day and every night for weeks. The fear I try to hide beneath a plastic smile as I sit beside Damien day in and day out as his attorneys go over his defense in meticulous detail. As they explain the procedural ins-and-outs of a murder trial under German law. As they practically beg him to shine a light into the dark corners of his childhood because they know, as I do, that those secrets are his salvation.
But Damien remains stubbornly mute, and I am left huddled against this pervasive fear that I will lose him. That he will be taken from me.
And not just fear. I’m also fighting the damnable, overwhelming, panic-inducing knowledge that there isn’t a goddamn thing in the world I can do. Nothing except wait and watch and hope.
But I do not like waiting, and I have never put my faith in hope. It is a cousin of fate, and both are too mercurial for my taste. What I crave is action, but the only one who can act is Damien, and he has steadfastly refused.
And that, I think, is the worst cut of all. Because while I understand the reason for his silence, I can’t quell the selfish spark of anger. Because at the core of it all, it’s not just himself that Damien is sacrificing. It’s me. Hell, it’s us.
We are running out of time. His trial will begin only a few hours from now, and unless he changes his mind about his defense, it is very likely that I will lose this man.
I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing the tears to remain at bay. I can push the fear back, but my anger is like a living thing, and I am afraid that it will explode no matter how hard I try to quell it. For that matter, I’m afraid that suppressing it will make the ultimate explosion all the more brutal.