The Pearl of Paradise Read online

  Damon pulled her up almost angrily, bringing her close. “I’m so damn sorry, Lily. I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know to have made you go through this alone.” Fisting his hand in her hair, he whispered near her ear, his voice sounding as tortured as she felt. “I’ll make this right for you somehow. I swear it. I’ll get you back your son—and take away the threat so you never have to give him up again.”

  He relaxed his fingers in her hair, cradling her head and bringing it back where he could look into her eyes. “I swear it on my life, Lily. On the Pearl. You will not have to give up your child again.” A warrior’s heart shone from within those aqua depths.

  “He’s your son, too, Damon. What of you?” From his silence, she realized that he didn’t expect to survive his battle with Kwan. Reaching up to clasp his face in her hands, she repeated, “What about you?”

  When he tried to look away, Lily held him steady, knowing he could shake off her hold with no effort. Boring her gaze into his, she tried again. “Don’t you want to see your son? To hold him?”

  The flash of pain gave eloquent answer.

  “Damon,” she gritted. “You don’t have to do this alone. I won’t let you sacrifice yourself. You can kill Kwan, he’s no match—”

  Despair deadened his eyes.

  Suddenly, she understood. “You don’t want to have to kill again.” Lily thought about the toll it had taken on him before. It had been a long time before she’d understood the sadness in him each time he returned from one of his ‘trips.’ He shared few of his inner thoughts with anyone, but gradually, piece by piece, Lily had put together a picture of the corrosive way Damon’s particular skills ate away at his soul like acid.

  She’d never been able to do much, except be there for him. And now, after a respite of years spent in peace, he faced taking the life of another, once again. This had nothing to do with courage—Damon had that in abundance. Kwan would never understand that even his death would injure Damon.

  Her own grief seemed selfish in light of what Damon faced. Lily pulled his head down to her, and placed a kiss upon his lips. It began as an innocent benediction, a means to transmit comfort.

  But Damon seized her in a tight grip and pulled her close. She felt the tremor of emotion he tightly contained, and she stroked his face with gentle hands. Damon reached out to clasp her chin and tilted her head slightly. Molding his lips to her own, his tongue sweeping, seeking entrance in near-desperation, Damon sent his hands roaming her body, clutching her to him as though to absorb her into himself.

  And Lily melted, softening and flowing into him as though their skins could be breached, as if their pores would open up and each would ingest the essence of the other. Her breasts tingled, heating to a fevered glowing ripeness, her nipples rising in response to the power of Damon’s lure.

  He pressed close… closer, rocking his hips, pressing his hardened shaft at the point of her greatest sensitivity. Gliding against her, then away, sending her higher and higher into aching need.

  Lily ran her hands across his jaws, sliding her fingers into his thick dark hair, flexing them, nails scratching—sometimes lightly, sometimes in greedy demand.

  But it wasn’t only desire for Damon’s body, for the way she knew he could make her burn, could lift her to ecstasy with his hands, his mouth, his manhood. Lily needed what only Damon had ever given her: a sense of wholeness, a feeling of being cherished, body and soul.

  After so long alone, Lily drank in the essence of Damon as though it were a life-giving nectar.

  Damon felt the warm, soft touch of her generosity wrapping around his heart, filling the dark emptiness that had haunted him for five years. He’d needed her for every second of those years, needed her in a way that diminished him, no matter what else he said or did, no matter what else he accomplished.

  His soul had turned into desert, desolate and endless. He realized now that his best efforts at giving up hope had been useless; somewhere deep in that lifeless sand, hope had lingered, refusing to give up altogether. Knowing, even as he’d deluded himself, that someday… somehow… he had hoped he wouldn’t have to give up Lily forever.

  The Pearl. Even as Damon drank in the taste that was uniquely Lily’s, he recalled the sense he’d had during meditation—that powerful image of the Pearl held safe and protected between his hands, pulsing with something that felt strangely like the essence of Lily.

  Hot, dark need burned through Damon as his body felt every curve of hers. He wanted to protect Lily in that same way, wanted to hold her close forever. Wanted to absorb her into himself and, in turn, slide within her.

  But what he wanted didn’t matter. He had responsibilities… duties… loyalties to honor. His promise to Fan Lee weighed heavily upon him. Damon himself was not sure he believed that the curse was real, and he cared little for his own life. But what of guarding Lily and his son? And whether or not the curse was real, he’d promised Fan Lee to guard the Pearl, to keep it safe. Fan Lee had never asked anything of him and had given him so much. How could he not keep that promise?

  But he burned to finish it, once and for all, with Kwan. The killer within him hungered for Kwan’s blood.

  Damon drew away slightly, gentling his kiss. Lily whimpered and pulled him closer, but he grasped for the torn edges of his resolve, forcing himself to give her up.

  The part of him that had learned to live as Fan Lee had hoped, was sickened at the bloodlust. Damon had hoped he could bury that warrior forever; too much blood, too much hate and revenge stained his hands already.

  Torn by the conflicts, his raw soul cried out for surcease. Too many masters—where, within this web of warring loyalties, was the real Damon?

  Lily looked up at him, chest heaving for breath, her heart in her eyes. A part of Damon rejoiced that she still cared so deeply; a part of him raged that so much stood in their way. A part of him felt despair muffling it all with the knowledge that he would have to kill, and he might be killed himself—but either way or both, he would still not be the man he’d once hoped to present to Lily.

  And he might never once lay eyes on his own child.

  “Damon?” Hurt and confusion swirled in Lily’s dark eyes.

  “I’m sorry.” He had no answers, except the ever-more-slender hope that he’d find an answer that would let him leave holy ground. Even that would not remove the need to finish it with Kwan, but at least he could spare Lily and his child whatever darkness the curse might bring.

  He dropped his hands and turned away, edgy and almost nauseous with the effort of giving up Lily’s touch. “I have to find an answer,” he gritted. “Somewhere in here there has to be an answer.”

  He couldn’t turn back, even though he heard her small sound of distress. If he did, he wasn’t sure he’d have the strength to let her go again, curse be damned, Kwan be damned, everything—all of his miserable, empty life be damned to hell.

  Drawing a deep breath, Damon returned to his search, praying for an answer that would save Lily and his child.

  For he would go out there, would meet Kwan on his ground. It had to stop, no matter how high the odds against him. No more would die in his place.

  He had to find the legend. Had to find the key.

  Chang entered the library so quietly that Damon almost didn’t hear him. When he turned, the lines of Chang’s body told him everything, though the younger man kept his face a careful mask.

  Lily knew her brother well; her slight gasp told Damon that she, too, was not fooled. She crossed the room to stand before Chang. Her brother reached out to comfort her, curling an arm around her shoulders; Lily laid her head against his chest.

  Even knowing Chang was her brother didn’t stop Damon from feeling a dart of envy that another man could provide the comfort he couldn’t. He quickly smothered the foolish thought; Lily deserved whatever care she could find, after all that he had taken from her.

  The two men exchanged looks over Lily’s head. The slight shake of Chang’s said much, but somethi
ng about his tension told Damon there was more than just that Chang hadn’t found Kwan’s location yet. He searched for a way to send Lily from the room or to leave without her following.

  Chang took care of it. He spoke to Lily. “I went to your place and got what you requested. It’s in the front seat of my car, parked out back.” He leaned back slightly against the wall as if exhausted. “Would you mind going to get it?”

  Smooth move, Damon wanted to applaud. Lily would balk at being excluded, but she’d never turn down a request for help.

  She stepped back slightly, her gaze searching Chang’s. “Sure,” but she hesitated. “Not a trace?”

  Damon felt sorry for Chang for having to be the one to deliver the message. His dark eyes spoke of guilt and sorrow.

  “I’m sorry, Lily,” he shook his head. “But we’re still looking. I’ve got eyes and ears out everywhere. We’ll find him.”

  She laid a hand on his arm. “I know you’re doing everything you can. I trust you, Chang.” Placing a soft kiss on his cheek, she gave him a sad, sweet smile, then stepped back and turned, leaving the room quickly.

  Chang shook his head. “Damn.” Raising his gaze to Damon’s, he blew out a gust of frustration.

  “What don’t you want her to know?”

  “We haven’t found him yet, Damon. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. Kwan’s a clever man, and people fear him too much to betray him.”

  “But?”

  Chang shot him a glance dark with worry. “He’s been bandying it about that perhaps he won’t kill Gregory.”

  Damon’s stomach lurched. Kwan would never spare the child’s life unless he could think of a better way to hurt Damon by keeping him alive. “Go on.”

  “He—I’m not sure I got this right.”

  “Tell me,” Damon gritted out.

  “He said that perhaps he’d just take the child away and let the child try to redeem the father, the way the father failed to redeem his mother.”

  A red haze of anger blinded Damon, while black despair sank its talons deep into his gut. He closed his eyes, shaking his head to rid it of the images of the things Santangelo had done to him as a kid. And he’d been much older than Gregory, yet it had twisted his soul irretrievably.

  Kwan knew he could not devise a better torture for Damon than to subject his child to the horrors Damon himself had lived through.

  And he had to know that Damon remembered them all, in vivid detail. One more taunt, to add to those Kwan had aimed at him in the past, reminding him of his failure to save his mother from the bestiality of Santangelo, resulting, in the end, in her death.

  Sick fear crowded out reason in Damon’s mind, and he was headed for the door when Chang grabbed his arm in a surprisingly strong grip for someone so much smaller. Damon shook him off, intent upon gaining the door and leaving sanctuary, not caring now about anything but making sure that his child never knew the sickness, the mind-numbing horrors that had scarred him for eternity.

  “Damon, where are you going?”

  “Leave me alone, Chang,” he growled.

  When Chang wouldn’t let go, Damon whirled on him, the numb horror giving way to a rage so strong he barely reined in his strength before he hurt the best friend he had.

  Chang didn’t let go, digging in his heels. He drew back and flowed into a stance to deliver an immobilizing blow. Damon snapped into a defensive posture. Adrenaline flooded him with the intent to remove any obstacle between him and getting out this door, no matter who he hurt.

  “What are you doing?” Lily cried out. “Have you two lost your minds? Why are you fighting each other?”

  Damon’s mind rebelled, fractured between wanting to hide this awful knowledge from Lily and a gnawing rage that demanded that he stop Kwan, whatever the price. There could be nothing worse than to doom his child to what he’d had to bear, what he still couldn’t banish from his tarnished soul.

  He grappled for control, struggling to draw breath for the fury that choked him, the sickness within that ate away at his reason.

  “What did you tell him?” she demanded of Chang. “What are you hiding from me?”

  Damon turned and walked toward the window, running his hands through his hair, fighting to get himself under control.

  “Damon?”

  He heard her approaching and fought the urge to strike out, to make her back away while he was so raw. He clenched his jaw so hard it sent a shiver through him.

  “Lily, I just—” Chang’s voice sounded out his confusion, the turmoil he no doubt felt at Damon’s reaction, yet Damon could hear the implacable determination of his friend.

  “We just got into an argument over him leaving.”

  Damon’s shoulders sank in relief. He couldn’t bear having to explain it to Lily, having her realize just how much he’d jeopardized their child’s safety, simply by being alive and thereby keeping Kwan’s hatred alive, too.

  She was heartsick enough, and he’d never told her the worst of what he’d lived through under Santangelo’s thumb. He had to resolve this and end the nightmare, for once and for all. Either way, it would end, whether with Kwan’s death or his own. Either would suffice.

  He felt Lily’s stare at his back, but he couldn’t turn around yet and meet her inspection, not until he’d gotten himself under control. Drawing a deep breath, he attempted to help Chang’s deceit.

  “I’m sorry, Chang.” The sincerity of it was not hard to convey; he must have lost his mind to attack the best friend he had. “I’m just—I just hate the waiting.”

  He knew when Lily neared; he felt her all along his back, though they didn’t touch. Then her hand stroked him, her soft voice easing his heart, at the same time that it etched his soul with guilt for all the pain he’d brought her.

  “We’ll find it, Damon. We’ll figure out the key.”

  Chang cleared his throat. “I’m going to go grab a sandwich to take with me.”

  Damon turned before his friend could escape. He met Chang’s gaze, hoping he could convey without words what he felt, since he didn’t dare arouse Lily’s suspicions any more. “I’m sorry, Chang. I was out of line.”

  Chang nodded, his stiff posture relaxing. “I understand.”

  But Damon knew he didn’t, really. He had to get out of here, had to stop Kwan—and he needed to talk to Chang again, to find out more. “Give me a few minutes before you leave, all right?”

  Doubt warred with friendship in Chang’s eyes. After a long moment, he shrugged and nodded. “Sure thing.” He moved toward the door.

  Damon stared after him, his mind whirling.

  “Damon?”

  He felt Lily’s hand on his arm. Pulling his gaze from Chang’s back, he looked down at her, seeing the swirl of conflicting emotions on her face. Sighing, Damon tried to relax, afraid she would start asking questions again.

  She gestured to the package in her hands. “Would you like to see pictures of your son?”

  Chapter Seven

  All the thoughts crowding his brain fled in an instant. A hunger unlike any he’d ever felt took hold. He snapped his gaze to Lily’s, then down toward her hands, his heart seized by a longing so strong he felt weak.

  “Yes,” his voice thickened. “I would.”

  His fingers fumbled at the clasp of the envelope, his normal grace suddenly fled. Drawing out the snapshots, attention narrowed to a laser focus, the face that looked back at him wrapped a fist around his heart and squeezed.

  The face of his son slammed Damon right back into the past.

  “I don’t want to stay alone, Mama. I’m scared.”

  “It’s just for a little while, darlin’. Mama will be back. You just stay here, tucked tight in bed, and don’t open the door to anyone.”

  “Please don’t go with that man, Mama.”

  “Now, Damon, Mama’s friend just needs her attention for a little while, and then I’ll be back, sugar, before you know it.”

  “Please, Mama, please don’t go…”<
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  “Damon? Are you all right?”

  He flinched at Lily’s touch, instinctively grasping the photos tighter to protect the child. He glanced up a Lily, then to Chang, holding Chang’s gaze for a long moment as fear for his child threatened to knock his feet from under him.

  “Damon?”

  I have to get to him, have to save him. I can’t let him live as I did. Darting another glance at Lily’s worried face, he tried to smile. Thank God Gregory had a mother who wanted him desperately, who’d never leave a five-year-old alone at night while she turned tricks. Who’d die before she left him at the mercy of a predator like Santangelo.

  I will get him back for Lily, no matter what price I have to pay. The young child inside Damon longed for a mother who’d have loved him so well.

  Damon stroked Gregory’s face with one finger, then lifted that same finger to touch Lily’s cheek. “He—” he cleared his throat. “He’s very lucky to have a mother who would sacrifice so much to keep him safe.”

  Studying her oval face, her smooth porcelain skin, Damon saw the tears spring to her eyes. Her lips trembled. “You did the hardest thing a mother can do. You’ve paid a terrible price so that he could live in peace and safety.”

  He cupped her cheek, catching the tears with his thumb. “Your courage brings me to my knees, Lily.”

  Lily felt something break open inside her at his words, perhaps the casing of ice that had surrounded her heart, sealing it off from the most unbearable portions of her pain. She felt like Damon had just given her benediction, that he’d reached inside where she held all her doubts that she’d done the right thing, her anger that she’d been handed this lot, her grief at all she’d missed—and he’d smoothed away some of the jagged edges that rubbed her raw.