He leaned down and gathered the blanket from the ground.
He didn’t say a word as he led me down the beach. Our footsteps marked our path where we walked several feet from the ebbing tide, our toes sinking into the damp sand. Wind whipped around us as the storm drew closer and we walked deeper into the night, away from the lights of the houses behind us and to a secluded section of the beach.
When we were completely isolated from the houses, he led me up a dune where wild grasses grew high at the bank. He flung the blanket down on a barren spot.
He helped me down. Immediately I pointed my camera at the horizon. At the billowing clouds that gathered higher and higher.
Lightning flashed, and a soft gasp left me as I captured the image.
God. It’d been so long. Never could I have imagined it would feel so good.
Like freedom.
Like exoneration.
“Blue,” Lyrik whispered as he climbed down onto his knees in front of me. We both still wore our suits, the fabric wet and clinging to our bodies. He nudged me back onto the blanket. He straddled my waist with his knees still bearing his weight.
Holding me down in a way I was pinned but I knew I was free. I snapped and snapped that gorgeous face, while my insides shook with the impact of each click.
“Blue,” he whispered again. Gently he pried the camera from my hands. Shadows danced around us. Grasses blew. Black hair whipped and his big body eclipsed mine.
“Tell me what’s happening, baby.”
The confession tumbled from my mouth. “Pictures were my passion. My grandfather taught me when I could barely hold a camera.”
Emotion clogged my throat. “I took pictures of the most beautiful things. Storms and the desert and the people I loved. But I felt most alive when I was out in a storm. Capturing its beauty. Maybe it’s dumb…but my pictures represented everything I wanted to be. Who I wanted to be and how I wanted to react to the people and things around me. They represented who I was. Tonight…tonight is the first time I’ve taken a picture in four years.”
Understanding dawned in those inky eyes. Twilight and the sunrise.
He turned the camera on me.
Flinching, I jerked my head to the side.
He dropped the camera an inch and peered over the top. His stare burned into me. Digging deep while I tried with all of me to hide.
“Tell me…show me. You said this camera only held the most beautiful things. That’s what you are. Don’t you get it, Blue? You’re so fucking gorgeous my breath gets locked up every time I glance your way. That’s what you do to me. One look and I’m gone.”
More tears seeped free and ran down the sides of my face as I looked back up at him. “I don’t like my picture taken.”
“Why?” he prodded.
Unearthing and exposing and uncovering.
My voice was gravel. Pained. Locked up.
“Because that’s what he liked.”
Confused, Lyrik blinked. “He liked taking your picture?”
My entire face pinched, my eyes squeezed closed while I admitted some of the horror etched in my spirit. “He took pictures of me tied up against my will. He…videotaped me while he let another man rape me.”
Memories spun, too close, too fast. “Then he made me watch it. Made me look at the pictures again and again.”
Shame.
Hatred.
Fear.
They threatened to take me hostage.
Lyrik stiffened, his anger so fierce it ignited in the wind. Something wild and violent. I could feel the beat of it as it surged into me, silent but extreme.
“Tell me he’s dead.”
With the tight shake of my head, my eyes squeezed closed again, then slowly opened when I felt him aim the camera at me once more. The words falling from his mouth came in a rush. “What do you want, Blue? You’re in control. This camera is yours. What’s on it and who sees it. All you have to say is no. Do you hear me? Do you hear me?”
I hear you.
I hear you.
I hear you.
Splayed open wide. That was me. Lying there looking up at him.
“I don’t know how to say no to you.”
Right then? I knew I’d never want to.
Click.
Energy sizzled in the air.
The buzz before the strike.
Lyrik looked down at me as if he’d seen the sunlight for the very first time.
My heart flailed in my chest. Anticipation and need and the greatest sense of being free.
Wind barreled down and lightning flashed.
Yes.
A storm was coming.
IN SOME SORT OF frenzy, we stumbled up the stairs of our apartment building. Tamar was one step above me, and she was kissing me like the sex kitten she was. Ferocious and wild and a little bit scared. She struggled to get closer, all the while trying to drag me up the steps.
We made it to my door, and I fumbled with the knob, eager to make it inside. The door flew open. It banged against the interior wall.
I tossed my keys, because I damn sure had better use for my hands. I drove my fingers back into ruby locks just as my mouth was diving back in.
Drowning in this girl.
She was sweet.
So fucking sweet.
“You taste so damned good.” It was a groan at her mouth.
Red, delicious lips. Tart little tongue.
Red.