Page 55 of Havoc's Fox
“Sometimes the only way to move on is straight through the middle of the worst of it,” Avaleigh said.
“Ain’t that the truth,” Janie said.
~~~
True to her words, Analise did exactly what she said. She showered and got in bed, not even bothering to fully dry her hair before crawling between her sheets and practically passing out. Her mind had had enough — she needed to shut down for a while. She was so deeply asleep that she didn’t even hear the members of the clan as they gradually made their way back to the site of the bonfire, before heading home with their families. She was completely unaware that Aunt Delilah encased the bonfire in ice once everyone was ready to head home. That was her favorite part, watching Aunt Delilah smother the flames as she breathed ice onto them.
But she missed it. She was almost comatose, her body at rest, her soul at play.
~~~
Havoc, dressed in only a pair of pajama bottoms wandered through the house with a drink in his hand. He’d been surprised at how nice the house was, especially since it was unassigned. He’d seen his cousins’ homes, and his sister’s, and quite frankly had been a little jealous, but he’d been happy for them, too. They deserved good, and Brandt had worked his ass off to be sure they had a place to call their own. The rest of the clan had certainly put in the work to help, but it was Brandt who’d had the vision to buy the land across from their parents and start building homes on it.
This particular house was one of the two extras they used as homes for whoever came home from wherever in the world they’d been unexpectedly and didn’t want to stay with their parents. It was spectacular. Almost exactly what he’d have built had he built one. It was a two-story home, well, technically three, but only the top two stories were the home. The bottom floor was for recreation. A concrete slab partially enclosed with spaces to park vehicles, or four-wheelers and such. And on the other side of the bottom floor was a family sized picnic table and a large hammock toward the back of it suspended from the floor joists above it as well.
The house appeared to be Acadian styled for the most part, but instead of the traditional siding, it was brick. The front door was a soft blue, and the trim around the windows along with the working shutters on each window matched the door.
A nine-foot-wide staircase led the way from the drive up to the center point of the wraparound porch, while another smaller staircase led from the side yard up to the porch. The front porch was sheltered from above by another porch that ran from one end of the front of the house to the other on the top story. It gave the master suite on the third floor a private porch and balcony that none of the rest of the house had access to. The back of the house had a similar porch, but both bedrooms on the top floor at the back of the house shared access to the back porch. The roof was metal with the same soft blue tint to it that the trim on the house sported.
And inside… when he walked inside his mouth just about dropped open. The entire home was decorated like a lodge. Warm, teak-colored wooden surfaces, large, sturdy beams overhead in the vaulted ceilings. A highly polished hardwood floor, traditional white appliances offset the beautiful wooden cabinets in the kitchen, along with a traditional farmhouse sink. Each bedroom had fourposter beds, and both bathrooms had spa tubs in them with separate walk-in showers. Even the half-bath had almost as much room in it as his kitchen back home. The laundry room had a white washer and dryer and plenty of racks to hang clothes that couldn’t be dried. The entire house had inset lighting and ceiling fans were placed strategically throughout. The lighting was particularly nice as it wasn’t the stark white most would expect. The light bulbs were clear and gave off a warm golden glow rather than bright white. Every exterior wall was practically covered in glass… windows and candles and glass knickknacks on the built in shelves that reflected the light and made the whole damn thing practically sparkle as the lights bounced off of all the polished wood, windows, and decor.
When he’d told Brandt that he’d like to stay in one of the extra houses they’d built for a little while, not really wanting to get back home right away, Brandt had told him to take the ‘the lodge’. It was closest to Hellen and kind of in the middle of everything, but as of yet didn’t have any direct neighbors. He’d chuckled at the name thinking it was probably just a little cabin like place. Man, had he been wrong. The fact that he’d found it fully stocked was equally impressive. Brandt took care of his family, even the black sheep of the family. There was no doubt about that.
As he wandered through the house, pausing at each window or glass door to gaze out into the darkness before stopping in the kitchen to pour himself another drink from the bottle of Jack he’d cracked open, he thought of Analise. This is the kind of place he’d dreamed of giving her, the kind of place they could raise their family, love and live forever. Retreat from the rest of the world and just be glad they had each other. He dreamed of the days that he could look at her across the room, share a secret smile and both know what the other was thinking.
Unfortunately, it was beginning to look more and more like dreams were the only way he’d get to share a secret smile with her. He’d thought that maybe when she and Harley began to bond there might be more of a chance than he’d at first believed. But, no. She’d completely shut him down, even going to the extent of avoiding him the entire rest of the late afternoon and evening. She’d even skipped the bonfire.
Caught somewhere between desperate and angry he grabbed the bottle of Jack off the kitchen counter and upended it to pour the rest of it into his glass, but it was empty. He’d already finished it. He thought of Harley and was glad he’d let her spend the night with his parents. It would leave him free to wallow in his self-pity without the only good thing in his life there to witness it.
Setting the glass with its melted ice on the counter beside the empty bottle, he simply walked away from it. He climbed the wooden staircase to the third floor and the master bedroom. Arriving beside the oversized king-sized bed, he allowed himself to fall face first into the mattress and all its overstuffed comforters and pillows, and closed his eyes. “Please. Please take me to Analise again. She’ll never accept me, so at least let me have her in my dreams.”
Chapter 13
Analise turned her head to the side as her hands gripped the sheet beneath her, her thighs spread wide apart, Havoc spreading them wide to give himself plenty of room as he buried his face between her legs. She rocked her hips in time with the strokes of his tongue, on the brink of orgasm.
He rose up above her, every muscle of his body taut and straining as he looked down at her.
“Why’d you stop?” she asked between pants.
“Tell me you want this. Tell me it’s not just me that needs this, and I’ll finish, but not without your acceptance.”
“I’ve always wanted this, Havoc. Always.”
“Are you sure? You sure you love me?”
“Love was never the problem. I’ve never stopped loving you.”
Havoc released a gruff moan and inched forward, pressing the tops of his knees against her ass as he lifted her legs to rest against his shoulders while he prepared to press himself into her.
Analise watched his perfect naked body poised over hers, ready to give her what she’d wondered about all her life. What it would be like to be held in his arms, the focus of his attention. She’d never been intimate with Havoc, and despite the fact that she was no longer a virgin, she’d never found much satisfaction in the act itself. In fact, she got just about as much from the act of having sex as she did jogging around the block.
Havoc leaned forward to first kiss, then lick her throat, and she lifted her chin to accommodate him.
Her breath sucked in suddenly, her heart was pounding, her hands gripped the sheets so hard that the claws of her fox extending from her fingertips actually tore them, and her eyes popped open. “No!” she begged. “No! Why? Why do you always do this to me?!” she demanded of the quiet around herself as her dream faded.
Snarling, she threw the covers off and stomped to her bedroom door, yanking it open. Everything outside her door was silent, the house dark and still. If she closed her eyes and concentrated, she could hear the rhythmic snores of her father, and knew her mother was lying right beside him. Her sister was in her own bedroom, the door closed and the television on its all-night marathon as was her habit.
Analise sighed, almost heartbroken over waking up before her dream was finished. It was the one pleasure she allowed herself — her dreams of Havoc. She went down the darkened hallway toward the kitchen, shaking her head in disgust at the fact that her dream always, always, ended the same. She grabbed a spoon out of the kitchen drawer the silverware was stored in, opened the fridge and was standing there in the glow of the refrigerator light, eating cold bread pudding with a spoon when realization hit.