Cinder Road (Scorch Series Romance Thriller Book 2) Page 3

  He bent his head and sucked on her luscious nipple, his teeth tight on her as he surged into her so hard that their hands hit the headboard.

  She screamed as she came, tossing and arching beneath him, clearly lost.

  So little and so strong, his Avital.

  The heady power of her surrender along with the clenching of her muscles released his own powerful orgasm. He clutched her close, the intensity of his release tightening every muscle of his body and wringing a hoarse cry from his throat.

  Long moments went by as they rested, still clasped together. Dolf inhaled the scent of the warm place beside Avital’s neck.

  She smelled so good: warm, woman, something vanilla, and that faint astringency that was a part of her and always reminded him that she was a doctor, a healer. Someone he respected.

  And there weren’t many of those.

  She made a tiny contented noise, a kind of purr, and a little arching movement that reminded him how heavy he was. He tightened his grip and rolled them both to the side. He didn’t want to leave her body until the last possible second.

  Avital folded her hands beneath her chin, just a dim shape before him.

  There was so little light—was the power out? Usually he could see in this room at night as the ambient streetlight warmed the cool tones of a bedroom he loved, the bedroom Avital and Nando had decorated just for him, making him a part of their home.

  He wanted to look at Avi—to see the white velvet of her skin, the deep ruby of her hair, the warm brown of her eyes and her lips, fat and pink from his kisses.

  But then they’d have to admit what they’d just done, and talk about it—and dear God, he just wasn’t strong enough. Wouldn’t likely ever be.

  He’d have to face the terrible thing he’d done if he let any light into the room.

  So he put a hand on her skin and stroked slowly up and down her side, and she made that purring sound again, and wriggled a little, like his hand on her felt good.

  Her breasts were so much bigger than he’d known, full round globes that she hid under roomy clothing and tight exercise bras. They were perfect. Her body was amazing and she never flaunted it. Instead it was a hidden treasure, and more valuable because of it.

  He couldn’t get enough of her. He knew he never would.

  He remembered the first time he’d seen Avital back in high school. Something about her drew him, though he couldn’t say exactly what it was.

  She was talking to someone by the lockers, a stack of books pressed to her bosom, wearing worn jeans and a black turtleneck. A river of hair the color of red wine touched her tight little butt.

  He wanted her instantly—and what Dolf wanted, Dolf got. He was nothing if not single-minded.

  He aimed for the girl like a heat-seeking missile, weaving between students moving through the hallway, and touched her shoulder. She turned.

  Her face was something he could look at all day.

  Her pretty pink mouth dropped open in surprise. “You must be Dolf!”

  “Hey, bro.” His twin stepped out from behind Avital. Nando’s eyes gleamed with something both triumphant and sad as he slung an arm over her shoulders. “Meet Avital. This is the girl I was telling you about. The girl I’m going to marry.”

  “Oh, stop it!” Avital punched Nando playfully. “You’re such a tease!”

  Dolf couldn’t respond.

  Nando had spent the last three days gushing about JT’s girlfriend’s friend, Avital, the girl from Center City who’d just transferred to their magnet school—smart, gorgeous. “I’m gonna marry her,” Nando had told Dolf, who’d scoffed at the idea. They were seniors in high school and Nando had known the girl all of two minutes.

  But as they’d stood in that hall, staring at each other, Dolf knew it would happen. Avital and Nando would marry, and Dolf would be alone.

  Yeah, Nando had always known how he felt about Avital.

  He wanted Avi again, but her long breaths told him she was asleep. He rolled over onto his back, one hand gently stroking her hip, relishing the feel of her smooth skin and the incredible curve.

  He sank into a well of black, blissful sleep.

  Avital

  It was the ache between her thighs that convinced Avital that it hadn’t been a dream. She’d woken up naked, her hand entwined with Dolf’s. She’d spent a moment in a rosy oblivion, feeling the relaxation and pleasure brought on by her intense orgasm, the heat of the room a salve over her raw emotions, the touch of his hand a warm security.

  But as her eyes opened and she saw the light of day filtered through the sheer white curtains hitting that gold lighter on the nightstand, she remembered where she was and what she had done.

  This wasn’t some peaceful, wonderful place where she was owned and protected and loved.

  No. She’d just screwed her brother’s twin.

  She’d slept with him in the house that she and Nando had bought together.

  She’d made love to him on the sheets that they’d purchased for Dolf, because they knew he liked blue.

  She was a whore, a disgusting, treacherous slut. Avital’s stomach tightened and she curled up around a ball of pain.

  Avital let go of Dolf’s hand. She pulled away and rose to her feet. She tried to not even look at him, but couldn’t help herself as her gaze traveled up his body.

  He was partly covered in the navy-blue sheet, one muscular leg exposed, each muscle of his abs its own island, a graceful arc into the chiseled chest expanding and contracting as he breathed deeply, peacefully.

  Don’t look at his face.

  But her eyes kept going, traveling over his collarbones, sleek and so beautiful, to the dip in his throat, a place where she’d loved to nuzzle Nando. Dolf’s jaw was dark with a day of beard growth, that same scratchy, lovely scruff that she’d woken up to every morning for the last fifteen years, and yet different…there were a few silver bristles near his cheekbones, at his hairline. Dolf stressed more than her Nando.

  His lips were beautiful and so familiar, a collection of curves and angles that made her own mouth tingle. God, what those lips could do—hard and furious, gentle and loving, and just exactly what she’d wanted. What she needed.

  A surge of lust hit Avital, a tingle like pain that sharpened her nipples and dampened her core.

  She tore her gaze off of Dolf and ran to the bathroom. She showered, scrubbing herself roughly. There was still dirt under her nails from her husband’s burial site, and she’d dug those same nails into his twin’s hair, pulling him into a passionate kiss, giving herself to him.

  She’d sworn not to be crushed by the weight of her husband’s death, but she deserved to be crushed.

  The power was out. There would be no fresh coffee, but the hospital would have some with their emergency generators. Dressing in blue scrubs and grabbing her ID badge, Avital scribbled a quick note to Dolf letting him know she was going to the hospital. She didn’t want him to worry or go looking for her.

  God, what must he think of her?

  She paused in her kitchen, looking out at the back yard, just a pad of cement lined with chain-link fence. She and Nando had planted sunflowers in rectangular planter boxes on the back side to block the view of the alley. Dolf had come down from New York to help Nando build the raised beds. The two of them out there in the wet spring weather, laughing and hammering, had been a heartwarming sight. She’d never seen them so much as argue.

  Dolf had left Sunday, before dinner. He liked to get back to New York before the traffic got bad, so it was just Nando and Avital poking the sunflower seeds into the rich potting soil. They’d watched the flowers sprout and then marveled at how fast and big they grew, their green stalks prickly and thick as Nando’s thumb.

  Avital touched her stomach. She and Nando had talked of having children now that medical school and residency were finally over. That conversation, the decision to go off birth control just a month ago, was made in the pink light of sunset as they’d watched those big flowers bloom
, bees buzzing around them.

  They’d never have children now.

  How many nights had the three of them: she, Nando, and Dolf, sat out there in that yard, eating Nando’s food, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company?

  Too many to count.

  Had she and Dolf always wanted each other? Was it a simmering betrayal that had gone on their entire lives? Or was this new: the grief of losing Nando creating new urges, new needs?

  It didn’t matter because it was never, ever going to happen again.

  They would never even discuss it, if she could help it.

  Avital carried her bike, a custom red Schwinn with a basket and leather seat, down the stoop to the street. Nando had built her the bike before they were even married and gave it to her as a twenty-first birthday present. He’d maintained it all these years, making sure it stayed in top condition, so that she could get to work and they didn’t have to own two cars—to help save the environment, to protect the world.

  Well, it didn’t do any good, did it? All their trouble, all their working together to make the world a better place—it hadn’t worked, in the end.

  Avital climbed onto the bike and felt that twinge of sweet soreness between her legs again as she started pedaling.

  She never should’ve asked Dolf to sleep with her.

  She never should’ve even looked at him.

  A car honked, and Avital swerved. She hit a curb and flew over the handlebars, landing on the sidewalk in an avalanche of pain.

  The pain was good.

  She deserved it.

  A car door opened and Mrs. Pascarella came around. “Avital! I’m so sorry. You came out of nowhere.”

  Avital looked up at the elderly woman and nodded, mentally checking herself for injuries. “It was my fault. A hundred percent my fault.”

  Mrs. Pascarella was in her early seventies, with short silver hair pushed behind her ears. She wore a black velour sweat suit, the almost official uniform of women her age in their neighborhood. The matron bent over and helped Avital to her feet. “You’re such a little thing.”

  “Sorry about all this.”

  “You’re bleeding, honey!”

  Avital’s hands were bitten with road rash, small stones stuck in some of the wounds. She deserved worse. Much worse. “I’m headed to the hospital; I’ll take care of it there.”

  Mrs. Pascarella held Avital by the elbow and stepped closer, creating an intimate space between them. “I’m very sorry for your loss. I know what it is to lose a husband.”

  Avital nodded and looked away, her cheeks flushing. Mrs. Pascarella patted her shoulder. “You’re a strong, young thing. You’ll get through it. I know you will, and find someone new to love someday.”

  Avital dug her nails into her injured palm to keep herself from screaming. Mrs. Pascarella might know what it was to lose a husband but did she know what it was to betray him? To put her own pleasure and escape above the memory of her sweet, dear, loving, honorable husband?

  “Thank you, Mrs. Pascarella. I’d better get going.” She looked over at the woman’s car and saw it was filled with belongings. “You’re leaving?”

  Mrs. Pascarella nodded. “My boy, Manny, has a place in the country, so we’re going there. The city is just too dangerous. I can’t believe what’s happening with this flu. You should think about leaving too, honey.”

  JT, Dolf’s brother, had mentioned his place in Idaho. The Haven, he called it. He wanted all of them to go there, the whole family to stay safe together.

  That could never happen, not after what she did. She and Dolf needed to be kept apart. Hopefully, Dolf would go, take his mother and Lucy and leave.

  Go. Be safe in Idaho, so I can forget what we did and pretend it never happened—and fight this flu until I die.

  Dolf

  When Dolf awoke, Avital was gone. Nothing remained of their stolen hours but a dent in the pillow and the rich smell of sex on the sheets.

  Dolf gathered the bed linens in his arms and inhaled deeply, feeling his body flush with joy and fulfillment. They’d been together, and it had been beyond amazing.

  Then it all came back, rolling through him in a wave of intense loss and revulsion.

  Nando was gone, and he’d fucked his brother’s widow.

  Dolf rolled off the bed, his body clenching in a paroxysm of pain that demanded some kind of expression, an ache so overwhelming he couldn’t put it into word or thought.

  He stood, walked over to the doorjamb, and punched it. The blow didn’t even dent the wood but it shattered the skin on the back of his knuckles and sent a shaft of agony lancing up his arm.

  Oh, that was good.

  So, good he needed to do it again and again.

  The pain felt medicinal. It cleared his head.

  He examined his hand. The knuckles were pulpy and split, but no broken bones. Punching a wall properly was a bit of an art form, and he’d had some practice over the years.

  Mama had been able to make Dolf punch the wall like no one else. Their father treated all the boys with the same rough affection, hugging and roughhousing and ruffling five boys’ heads with the same affectionate love—but Mama had favorites. With four rowdy boys and a feisty girl running around, Nando must have been a breath of fresh air, always hanging out in the kitchen to help cook and fetch and carry. Dolf, quiet and intensely focused on whatever interested him in the moment, hadn’t been the empathetic, nurturing son she favored even if they looked alike. She’d paddled Dolf with a wooden spoon for endangering himself by climbing, and falling out of, the big tree in the back yard. Her harsh words had cut deep: “You only care about what you want and not how it affects others! How are you and Nando even related?”

  It was Nando who’d stopped him from breaking his hands that first time, and several times since. What would he do without his brother? Half the time Dolf didn’t even know what he was feeling without Nando telling him.

  But Dolf couldn’t afford to break his hand now. Doing that wasn’t going to protect Avital and get her out of this city to safety. But a little pain was good, and far less than he deserved for what a miserable, selfish shit he was.

  Yesterday JT had appealed to Dolf again to come out to the protected, walled compound in Idaho called the Haven that he’d purchased for the family. What JT didn’t know was that Dolf had believed his brother the first time two years ago when JT told him something bad was coming. “An apocalypse,” JT had said. According to their mother, his older brother had the Sight, a sometimes-inherited family gift.

  Dolf had a little of that mystical something too—less than JT, but still a powerful intuition that was one reason he did so well with his investments. The Sight was why he’d known to come back to Philadelphia before anyone called him to say that Nando was sick. Nando sometimes had glimmers of it too, most often in the form of knowing what his twin was feeling or doing.

  That same powerful intuition was why Dolf bought up as many spare buildings and houses as he could in the little hamlet of North Fork near JT’s compound. Owning that town would make it safer for all of them.

  Not that anyone, including JT, knew about that. Dolf liked to keep things quiet until they were a done deal.

  “Please get Mama, Lucy, and Avital to come to the Haven,” JT had begged yesterday. “If you don’t, everyone is going to die here.”

  His brother was right about coming events. The apocalypse was upon them. He had planned to come to the Haven, made preparations for months, in fact. But getting Mama and Lucy to move, let alone Avital, was another story.

  But Dolf sure as hell wasn’t leaving them unprotected.

  Dolf ripped the linens off the bed, unable to tolerate the musky reminder of his need and betrayal another moment. He stalked downstairs to the basement where he stuffed the sheets into the washer along with the wet towels from Avital’s scrubbing the night before.

  The washer wouldn’t start—oh yeah, no power. He’d bought a generator for them and installed it last year, but
it needed to be turned on. He passed through the kitchen and out to the yard, starting the thing up. The lights flickered back to life in the house, and the air conditioner started to hum, bringing immediate relief to the sultry heat.

  Dolf showered, dressed, and headed to the kitchen.

  The coffee maker still held some of yesterday’s brew. Avital must have left early, probably feeling the same burning shame that torched Dolf’s insides. She was probably desperate to get away from him. His stomach turned and he poured a mug of cold coffee and sipped, grimacing.

  On the sink was a note in the spiky block print she used: “At the hospital. A.”

  No salutation.

  What would she put there, anyway? “Dear brother-in-law I just screwed?”

  No closing either.

  How did he expect her to sign it? “Thanks for the orgasms. Love, Avital”?

  Of course not.

  She wasn’t that kind of woman. She was all functionality and dedication, buttoned down tight, those rebelliously lush breasts of hers covered by a tight sports bra, minimized so they wouldn’t get in the way of her doctoring.

  She was likely feeling as hurt and guilty as he was this gloomy morning, with its grim gray skies, thick humidity, and faint smell of smoke. Dolf turned off the AC to save gas now that the house felt habitable again, and, coffee in hand, went to the old roll top desk where Nando had done the bills.

  First thing to do: make sure Avital and Nando’s money situation was taken care of. That was phase one of taking care of her for the rest of her life.

  The rest of the day was equally mapped out in his mind.

  Inside the desk, a slightly sweet smell of tobacco reminded Dolf of his brother’s occasional cigar habit. He spotted the small humidor he’d given Nando in one of the pigeonholes. He opened it. Sure enough, the expensive Havana Nando had said he was saving for when he and Avital had their first baby still smelled rich, even in its wrapper.

  Nando would never have a child, never smoke that cigar.

  Dolf contorted, bending over as the coffee curdled in his stomach in a fierce, painful cramp. He breathed through the pain and then carried the cigar to the trash.