we were one once book 2: "A Dark Romance" by Willow Madison Page B

still down, she obeys. My own breath can’t match her steadiness, catching in my chest with the thick drumbeat of my heart. My hands actually shake reaching for her to pull her against me. I hope she understands how filled my heart is at this moment.
    But reality has a cruel way of marring even the most perfect. My fingers on her back find familiar ridges. Reminders of her long absence and her time spent with another man. Her only reaction to my firming grip on her shoulders is a stiffening to her back. “You’ve been gone for too long. I worry that you’ve forgotten how much I love you.” My words are whispers against her head.
    Her response is a whisper against my chest, “I haven’t forgotten, Miles. And you show me now by finally making me your wife.”
    My jaw works, clenching and unclenching, trying to keep control of the anger blazing through me. I keep my eyes closed tight, not wanting to see the evidence of her betrayal on her back. When I’m finally in control more, “You know how much I love you; yet, you’ve let another man touch you…” It’s not a question, not even an accusation. There’s no point to a denial. I run my hand up and down her back as an exclamation to my words.
    “I…it wasn’t me…” But we both know she’s lying. I can hear it in how flat her voice is. I know she’s withdrawing a little to keep herself from reacting. But it’s obvious that she allowed Lamb to have his way with her. I know it’s her nature, to submit. The thought of her acting that way with another man…
    “Turn around, Gilli.” I let her go and she stays close, pivoting so her back is to me, her head still lowered. I push her hair away and she remains still and quiet.
    Her back is a beautiful canvas of pink and cream. Lamb knew what he was doing at least. No cuts, no lasting damage, just exquisite welts in a perfect pattern, none overlapping each other even. My blood boils in my temples and a hiss of hot air escapes my lips as I run just one finger up the longest mark and she doesn’t respond.
    “You know my rule, Gillian.” This produces a nice full-body response, a shudder to her shoulders, a weakening to her knees.
    “Please, Miles?” No whine, no cry, her same flat voice. She knows it’s no use to argue with me. We went over this three years ago, the night before she ran away. But she turns quickly to face me, pleading with her large chocolate eyes so soft and sweet. “Just for tonight. Please.”
    This being our honeymoon night, I might be moved by sentiment and allow her this concession just this once if she wasn’t already marked by another. But now my anger, the anger I’ve held in for three years, demands full payment. I won’t allow her to hide within herself, to withdraw from the pain she knows she deserves. Not tonight or any other night. Not ever again. I explained this rule three years ago. I shake my head. “Now. Turn. Around.” Her lower lip quivers, but she turns back.
    Her Mother didn’t understand this. She didn’t understand Gillian really. Anya knew about the personalities of course, but she chose to ignore them. Or to delight in them sometimes. She never tried to heal her daughter. Not that I would expect that it even crossed her mind to try. She was the cause of Gillian’s fractured state and I think she delighted in knowing that most of all.
    But Anya didn’t understand that without pain, discipline is a useless tool. Anya was crazy, though. Very little about her daughter escaped her attention, but she didn’t really care if Gillian learned a lesson from any of her punishments. She hurt Gillian because she enjoyed it; it amused her is all.
    But I want so much more for my Gillian. I won’t allow her to hide in herself ever again. Her Mother may have tolerated that behavior from her, but I’ve made it clear that I won’t.
    I pull her arms to bring her back against my chest, breathing in her hair. “I love you, Gilli.”
    “I love you, Miles.”
    Her voice is