He opened the doors and stepped out, scanning the beach. His pulse leaped when he saw her, standing in the distance, her back to him as she stared out over the water.
He crossed the deck and made his way down the wooden walkway over the dune and then stepped onto the beach. As he neared her, he slowed his pace.
There was a fragility to her stance. Her arms were hugged tight around her body, and she was huddled in a jacket as though the wind blowing chilled her to the bone. Her hair whipped like streaks of midnight, and then she turned, ever so slightly, and he caught a hint of her profile, the softness of her face and the sad set of her lips.
Faith was right. She looked tired. She looked worn out, but she was still beautiful.
Serena mine.
He didn’t know whether he should stay where he was or go to her or wait for her to turn and see him standing there. The waiting was agony as he readied himself to fight a battle he wasn’t prepared to lose.
And then she turned, and those beautiful, expressive eyes widened in shock.
Serena stared in bewilderment at Damon, who stood just a few feet away. He was dressed for a day in the sun. Khaki shorts, polo shirt and brown sandals. Sunglasses were shoved to the top of his head, messing his hair slightly. He was heart-stoppingly gorgeous, and he stood there watching her, his liquid brown eyes bright with concern. But he was here.
Joy, pure and unfettered, flooded her body until she feared she’d fall to her knees. She swayed and threw her hand out only to catch air as she tried to steady herself.
He stepped forward to catch her, but she righted herself and blinked away the shock of seeing him so close after so many days.
“What are you doing here?” she asked faintly.
“I came for you.”
A shiver worked over her body.
He frowned, concern brightening in his eyes. “Are you cold?”
“I’ve been cold since the day I left your house,” she whispered. She wanted to cry. But more than that, she wanted to be warm again.
He held out his arms, and she walked into them, unable to deny the comfort of his embrace. He tucked her head under his chin, and she laid her cheek against his chest. She closed her eyes as his warmth bled into her.
Slowly the ice began to melt. A low throb began, and sweet relief whispered delicately through her veins.
He lowered them both onto the sand, arranging his body around her as he positioned her between his legs. He kept firm hold of her, absorbing the trembles of her body as the cold gradually eased, and she could feel the sun once again.
“What happened, Serena mine?” he asked against her hair. “Why did you leave?”
She buried her face in his neck and tried to keep the tears at bay. “She died, Damon,” she said hoarsely. “Michelle, the girl I told you about. She died during the cruise I arranged for her.”
Damon stroked her hair, offering her comfort with his touch. He was calm and methodical, no urgency to his actions. No question. Just acceptance. Did he have acceptance enough for both of them?
“I’m sorry,” he said huskily. “I’m so sorry, Serena. Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you let me help you? Why leave?”
For a long moment she lay there, unable to form a response around the knot in her throat. She knew her thoughts weren’t logical. Maybe she’d always known she was chasing a fantasy.
Damon waited. He sat there quietly, just holding her as she collected her courage.
“I thought that if I could give her her dream, it would be enough to save her. That if I could make magic for her, I could save her.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Damon said, his voice cracking as emotion throbbed in his throat.
“When she died, I realized that nothing I’d done made a difference. None of it. She got a few minutes to be a princess, and her parents have a lifetime to live without their daughter.
“My clients still have to go back to their normal lives. They enjoy a brief respite and nothing more. I realize now how cruel it is. To give someone a taste of paradise only to yank it away? I can’t think of anything worse.
“I never knew, would have never known if I hadn’t tried to fulfill my own fantasy. It was then that I realized that there are worse things than never living your dream or never indulging in a fantasy. It’s far worse to get a taste and know that it isn’t real, will never be real, and then go back to your regular life knowing what it’s like to have perfection and that you’ll never have it again.
“Some things . . . some things are better left in the realm of fantasy,” she said faintly.
“I think I understand what you’re saying,” he said.
She pulled slightly away so she could look into his eyes. “Do you? Then you know why I can’t . . . why we can’t . . .”
He shook his head. “I said I understood what you were saying, not that I agreed.”
He lifted a hand to her face and trailed his fingers over her temple and to her cheekbone. They shook as he moved them to her lips.
“I have a lot I want to say to you, and I want you to listen to every word.”
She nodded slowly.
“Good. Now, I understand that you’re afraid. I understand that the volatility of our attraction, of our relationship, frightened you. It scared the shit out of me as well.”
Her eyes widened.
“Don’t look so surprised, Serena mine. You knocked me for a friggin’ loop.”
He leaned in and brushed a light kiss across her lips before withdrawing again. “Somewhere along the way, you decided that the Serena who gave me the gift of herself couldn’t possibly be real. That not only was she not real, but she could never be what I wanted and needed. And so, you decided that in order to do what was best for me, you were going to leave me. Never mind the fact that you never once consulted me in the matter. Pretty messed up, wouldn’t you say?”
“It’s not that simple,” she argued, remembering that she’d said the exact same thing to Julie and Faith not long ago. She glanced away, no longer able to meet the burning intensity of his eyes.
“Serena, look at me,” he said gently.
He didn’t prod her, didn’t tug at her chin as he had so many times before. But she turned back anyway, unable to resist his softly spoken request.
“It’s as simple or as complicated as we make it. Me? I’m a simple kind of guy. I love you, and I hope to hell you love me or that maybe you can love me, given a little time and persuasion on my part.
“You, on the other hand, are as complicated as they come. You twist yourself in knots until you don’t know which end is up. You try to convince yourself that you can’t be what I want or need, but you’ve never asked me what I want. Or what I need. Because if you had? I would have said only one thing. You.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing would come out. He wiped his thumb over her lip as if removing the obstruction.
“Don’t you have anything to say to me right now? Like that you’re sorry for running out on me, or that you’re sorry for worrying the absolute hell out of me, or that I had to make your friends kidnap you so I could see you again?”
He took a deep breath as though he was gathering his own brand of courage.
“Or that you love me just a little bit?”
She stared at him for a long moment, trying to match his courage, trying to form the words and work them past the knot in her throat.
“I do love you,” she finally whispered.
The look of absolute joy, the crushing relief that flooded his eyes, took her breath away. His hands shook so badly against her face that he had to take them away to prevent them from bumping her skin.
She put her hands to his face this time, needing the contact and needing him to understand that loving wasn’t the be all, end all in the equation.