Page 83 of Rescuing Rebel
Rebel searches my face anxiously. “At Haven…” her voice breaks, “training those girls, I know it seems horrible, but I’m teaching them skills. Ways to escape if the chance ever comes.”
My eyes widen as understanding hits me. “In marketing them as willing and obedient, the men who buy them are lulled into a false sense of security. The guard they place on theiracquisitionis less than it would be otherwise.”
“Precisely.” She nods, fresh tears welling up. “I know you don’t condone it, but I’m trying to give them hope. It may take months, or a year, before the opportunity to escape occurs, but it’s better than the alternative.” Her voice trembles with emotion. “I should have come to you. I’m sorry I didn’t. I was desperate and traumatized after what happened in Nicaragua, and the last thing I expected was to fall for you in ways I didn’t understand. It terrified me.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to stay with you. Be with you. Choose you. But I couldn’t abandon my sister’s dying wish. I have to find her child and save it. I couldn’t let anything get in my way. I had to leave. I regret leaving the way I did, but how could I explain what I was planning to the man who rescued me from captivity? That I was willing to do horrible things to women I didn’t know to save a child I may never find?”
I gather her into my arms, holding her close as she cries. “Shh. It’s okay now. We’re together.” I stroke her hair, forgiving her completely.
She clings to me. At last, all the missing pieces fall into place between us. No more secrets remain. I don’t agree with what she did. That’s her cross to bear, but I love her enough to forgive her actions and move forward from here.
I search her eyes and see a plea for understanding and forgiveness. Perhaps that should be enough. For now, it has to be.
“I forgive you.” My voice is steady and firm, my conviction unwavering. “And I love you.”
But I won’t allow her to use these women.
That’s my line in the sand.
THIRTY
Ethan
Rebel’s eyeswell with tears as she clings to me, her body trembling. I cradle her head against my chest, my cheek pressed to her hair.
Eventually, her shaking subsides. She pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, her eyes two shimmering pools of anguish. I smooth back her hair, letting my fingers linger, tracing the delicate lines of her face like a blind man seeing the sun again.
Her lips part as if to speak, but no words form. Instead, she turns into my palm, pressing a feather-light kiss there. My breath catches at the contact.
Slowly, almost tentatively, she reaches up to caress my cheek. I close my eyes, covering her hand with mine, letting her relearn the shape of my face. Her touch travels downward, grazing my jaw, tentative brushes mapping the contours of my lips.
When I open my eyes again, her face is just inches away, eyes searching mine. I see the question there, the silent request hovering between us.
In answer, I lean in. Our lips meet, the contact ghostly at first—more breath than touch. Then I capture her mouth. The tentative kiss shifts into something deeper, fueled by months of pent-up longing. I kiss her with abandon, leaving no doubt that she still holds my shattered heart.
Before she can pull away, I cup her face in my hands, holding her there. Our foreheads touch as we share a shuddering breath.
I capture her lips again, unable to resist. The spark ignites into an inferno. I kiss her deeply, urgently, blazing a trail to her soul. She responds in kind, mouth opening eagerly to mine.
Our kiss turns hungry, almost bruising in intensity. It’s a kiss that erases months of separation, a desire denied too long. Her fingers twist in my shirt, mine tangle in her hair. We’re lost in relearning each other.
We kiss until we’re forced to break for air.
Rebel clings to me, fresh tears spilling over. “I never stopped loving you,” she confesses in a broken whisper. “Not for one second.”
Those words heal a wound inside me I thought would never go away. Her mouth opens, and I taste her, the unique flavor that’s all her own, a blend of sweetness and strength I’ve missed more than words can express. I pull her closer, my hands sliding down her back, feeling the curve of her body against mine.
We lose ourselves in each other, the kiss deepening, becoming a dance of desire and devotion. The beating of her heart flutters against my chest, the rapid rhythm matching my own, two hearts in perfect sync.
The taste of her lips, the smell of her hair, the sound of her soft moans as she clings to me—they’re all a symphony of sensation that fills me with a raw, visceral emotion that’s almost overwhelming.
This is love in its purest form, without reservation or condition, and it burns with a fire that will never be extinguished. I hate that I doubted her. That I lost faith. I still don’t condone what she’s done, but I understand.
Her hands move to my face, her fingers tracing the lines and contours, reacquainting herself with the man she loves. And I do the same. My hands explore her, relearning her, rediscovering the woman who has always been my other half.
Our eyes lock, understanding passing between us without the need for words.