Forbidden Innocence: Tales of the Forbidden (2 page)

“What’s her name?” Devon asked calmly.

Blaine shook his head, “I can’t remember. I had Randal find everything he could about her and her mother.”

“So how old was she when you were in school then?” Devon asked again.

“Seven.” Blaine answered.

“Then that will make her twenty-one now,” Devon went on. He whistled, shaking his head. “It’s a game of Russian roulette, buddy. Like 11

Dane said, you don’t walk in there and walk out with a girl that isn’t your wife. What do you remember about her?”

Blaine sighed again, sat back down and tried to think. “She used to follow us around all the time. Blonde hair, big blue eyes, lonely and quiet. I don’t know. Can’t remember her damn name for some reason.”

“You sure this Owen guy didn’t do anything to her?” Devon asked.

Blaine looked Devon in the eye. “I’m not sure about anything. Owen wanted her, and back then what he wanted he always got. Hell, he fucked her mother just to get close to her.”

“Sounds like a real winner,” Dane remarked dryly. “The party’s tonight, Devon.”

“I know,” Devon mumbled back.

“What?” Blaine snapped.

“You said she’s blonde,” Devon pointed out and Blaine nodded.

“Then that’s something to work on. Not too many blonde girls in the Compound.”

“No,” Dane shook his head, rubbing his chin. “In fact, I think maybe only a couple.”

“There’s nine years between you,” Devon said. “So she’s young and I’m going to guess been sheltered if she’s lived years at the Compound.”

“Guess you might have to put the grumpy old bastard routine away and become Prince Charming.” Dane snickered. “Pucker up, darling, you might just get married after all.”

“Stop yanking his nuts, Dane,” Devon stated, sitting down in a chair at the dining table, leaning back and crossing his legs at the ankles. “We know that the idea of Blaine being in a whole room full of panting women causes his balls to creep up in his ass but this is a bit serious for a change.”

Blaine picked up an iron statue and threw it at Devon, who handily caught it and set it down on the floor. “Fuck off,” he grumbled, then glared at Dane. “Can we take this serious, please?”

Devon laughed. “We are taking it serious, but you also should be aware that once you go in, or I should say that once its let out that you’re going to the Compound tonight, everyone is going to try their damnest to hook you up with their daughter. You’re one of the biggest catches still around and single, besides Darius that is.”

“I didn’t come back here to get fucking married and turn into a couple of pussies like you two dip shits,” Blaine snarled, thumping his feet up on the long dining room table. “I’m trying to stop Owen from destroying this girl.”

12

“Hey there’s nothing pussy about enjoying the comforts of having a hot body in bed with you every night,” Dane stated, closing his eyes and pressing his hand on his chest like he was day dreaming.

Blaine looked over at Dane with a slight grin on his lips and a glare to his eyes. “A few hundreds and I always have a warm body in bed.”

“And malaria can give you the hot flashes. Don’t see me paying for that.” Dane smiled.

Devon shook his head, rolling his eyes. “What the hell are you going to say or do in there since you have no intentions of playing the game and getting married? I mean, how the hell are you going to pull this off?”

“Politeness?” Blaine smarted back.

“Ha!” Dane blurted out. “You’ve never been polite in your life when it comes to that kind of shit. Go blow smoke up someone else’s ass.”

“I don’t have to kiss anyone,” Blaine groaned, getting tired of his argument. “And I can smuggle her out once I find her.”

“You know, something tells me if he goes in there, he’s not going to come out a single man,” Dane said to Devon.

“Yeah, that’s what my guts telling me also,” Devon said.

“I knew I shouldn’t have told you two,” Blaine growled.

“Dum-dum-de-dumm!” Dane and Devon started to sing.

“Oh, now I’m going to kick your asses!” Blaine quickly stood up and went after Dane first then Devon. All three ran out of the room, yelling and swearing at each other.

* * * *

Shyla Kabrey sat at the breakfast table, moving her spoon around the tasteless oatmeal before her. For more years than she cared to count, she sat at the same table with the same breakfast and always went to her morning class with the same hunger and unfilled feeling. She couldn’t do it anymore. She couldn’t live like this. And yet, she didn’t know what she could do either. It felt as if she was no more than a prisoner in a place that told you what to eat, how to dress, and what to expect once you were picked to be someone’s wife. You had to be twenty-one to attend the parties and even then you only had until you reached twenty-five before considered too old and put to work in the Compound.

Shyla just turned twenty-one yesterday. Her first party was tomorrow night and she was scared to death. Already she heard talk that over fifty men were to attend, and there were at least sixty if not more girls. Odds not in her favour of being picked, which was just fine with her.

She didn’t think she was ready to get picked.

13

Breakfast was always a timed thing. The girls only had fifteen minutes to eat the bland food before being taken off to the one and only class they all were required to take. Sexual education.

The things they showed them, told them, had Shyla shivering on the inside. It didn’t look like something she could do or appeared pleasurable either, and not mention the small fact that the man’s thing didn’t look like it could fit inside a woman. Hell, when they showed the movies, Shyla sat with her eyes closed, and today was to be a video.

Lunchtime consisted of a meat sandwich, milk and an apple. The motto for the girls was to keep their figures slim for the men. Even though Shyla was somewhat used to it, she still felt hungry after each meal. Her body just wasn’t getting enough nutrition.

“Shyla Kabrey.” Shyla looked up from her lunch. The mistress of the Compound stood in the middle of the room with a few other girls around her. Girls that were the same age. “Come with us,” she motioned.

The mistress of the Compound was a cold woman. She always wore black skirts, crisp white shirts and keys fashioned around her waist. Her salt and pepper hair pulled back in a tight bun, and eyes so sharp she saw everything that went on. It creeped Shyla out.

Standing up quickly, Shyla followed the other girls out of the dining hall and towards a wing of the Compound they never went into before.

Up a flight of stairs they climbed and down another hall and into a large bathing room they went. Seeing this room, knowing that the rest of the day would be a slight pampering, Shyla felt the fear start to build inside her once more. All of this meant only one thing. She had been picked for the party this year, which meant she had a very good chance at being picked as someone’s wife.

“Shyla, come this way.”

The girls were split in groups of five, taken to different parts of the large pooling area. Baths, shaves, massages and other things were set up for them all. For the rest of the day they were all to be pampered, spoiled a bit before being sent out to the party which was being set up even as they got ready.

Winter party. Shyla wondered as she stripped for her bath, what kind of dress she was going to wear, and how she might look? But the big question that raced in her head—would anyone be interested in her?

14

Blaine’s limo pulled up to the main entrance of the Compound with his shoulder slightly achy from the wrestling match he had with Dane and Devon. He grinned, thinking how he got Dane on the ground, pinning him with his arms in the air. He ripped the back of his shirt and took one hit to his side before Devon yanked him free. But he was smiling as was Dane. It felt good to mess around with his friends. Felt almost like the old days before his father yanked him from his home, family, and friends.

The limo stopped, but Blaine stayed where he was. He looked down at the ring on his right hand. His grandfather sent it to him. The one and only thing the man ever gave him, and it had to be on his death bed. Just like this father, Fintan Cedric, his grandfather, was a bastard who refused to show anyone an ounce of compassion, love, or kindness. So when the ring showed up in the mail, Blaine almost pissed his pants. The ring with the family crest.

“Sir?”

Blaine came out of his thoughts and looked up at his driver, Henning. “I’m fine, Henning.” Blaine gave the man a tender smile. “Just have a lot on my mind is all.”

Henning smiled. “I understand.”

Blaine opened his door. “Go get something to eat. I’m not sure how long I’m going to be. This could be a short trip, if I can’t find her.”

“I’ll keep the phone on. And good luck.”

“Thanks.” Blaine nodded his head, buttoned his jacket and took a deep breath, got out, and started the walk to the front doors. “Here we go,” he mumbled to himself.

The party was just as he thought it would be. Young women around the tender age of twenty-one stood around, some talking to men. The 15

dresses they all wore were of different colours, but the styles all the same.

Short, thin strapped, open backs and low-cut in the front. One slip off the shoulders and the thing would fall to the floor at their feet. If he had done this in the summer then they would all be clad in bathing suits.

Someone waited at the door, handing out tiny drinks to each man that walked in. The elixir of matchmaking. He didn’t want it, but Blaine took the drink and swallowed it for nothing more than to keep up appearances.

“Ah, Mr. Cedric!” Blaine turned and placed a fake smile on his lips as he was quickly cornered by the governess that ran the Compound with an iron fist. Stories from Dane didn’t go unnoticed about this woman. “I saw your name on the list and couldn’t believe my eyes. Welcome.”

“Thank you.” Blaine nodded and looked around over her head.

“Impressive.”

“We have many fine young ladies. Please feel free to walk about and talk to any.”

Blaine did just that. He drank many glasses of wine, thought about kissing a couple of girls for the hell of it but changed his mind at the last moment. He kept having to tell himself that he was in search of a blonde.

So far he saw one, but she didn’t have the blue eyes that he
did
remember. There may be a lot of things he couldn’t recall about Susan Kabrey's daughter, but the blue eyes he never forgot. In fact, thinking about it now, as he strolled around the Compound, Blaine dated and slept with girls that only had blue eyes. How strange was that?

After a couple of hours of not finding what he was looking for, Blaine left the party and groups, ending up on the roof. The cool night air woke him up and melted the stress away. The roof top was pretty much deserted. Only a few couples were there and they were busy standing in corners, talking. It was the kind of peace that Blaine needed in order to think and figure out what he might do next.

He reached into his jacket pulling out one of his small cigars.

Lighting it Blaine looked around for a spot to sit and relax. Instead of sitting, his eyes found a lonely girl that seemed so out of place up here alone. And she had long blonde hair.

She walked along the edge of the railing, her shoes in her hand, head cocked to one side, face looking up as if she was far, far away. She was in her own world, deep in thoughts that Blaine could only wonder about.

He grinned, wondering in fact what her thoughts were indeed.

Leaning against a wall, arms crossing over his large chest, he watched her. He felt a small amount of peace watching her walk around 16

with her eyes down and the light breeze moving her dress around her bare legs. Legs that gave him an itching sensation to his fingertips.

She was different; different in a way that he couldn’t put into words.

She wasn’t long legged or skinny as a rail. She was short, standing maybe at five-two or three with those heels on. Plump, not fat with soft looking blond hair reaching the middle of her back. Just looking at that hair had Blaine itching to run his fingers through the locks to see if they were as soft as they appeared. She also wasn’t the knock down gorgeous kind of girl like the ones downstairs, but she held a soft innocent beauty, the kind that had a man wanting to protect and cherish always. And he also had this strange feeling that he knew her.

The thought of approaching her had Blaine all up in nerves—nerves of a teen about to advance on a girl for the very first time, which wasn’t like him. He didn’t want to disturb the peaceful scene before him, but the urge to talk to her became too strong, just like the need to look into her eyes. He wanted to discover what she was dreaming about, and to hear the sound of her voice. Hell, he even wanted her to smile up at him.

Blaine tossed his cigar away, drowned the remainder of wine in his glass and pushed off the wall. He walked up to her just as she stopped and leaned against another wall, looking out to the woods. He saw the dreaminess in her expression and it pulled at him. He had to know what she was thinking and dreaming.

“Now there is a view,” Blaine said. He grimaced inside, thinking that was the lamest thing he could have possible said to her.

She smiled though. “I love this view.”

Her voice was the softest music he ever heard. It washed over him as a lover’s hand, sending chills down his spine causing him to want more. Blaine felt as if he needed to hear her speak more. Wanted that feeling again. So long it had been since the sound of a woman’s voice calmed him.

“I’m wondering who lives in that house. Do they have black and white balls in a grand ballroom?” She smiled in a dreaming manner.

“Are they happy?”

Blaine smiled. He couldn’t help himself. When he looked out at what she was looking at his smile almost faltered. The house she was speaking of was his. So she was daydreaming about his home. That was different. Then he wondered how long she been up here.

“No one has lived in that house for many years,” he told her, looking down at her once again. “Been empty for a long time.”

She looked up at him and Blaine felt the air catch in his lungs. She 17

had the softest, prettiest baby blue eyes he ever saw. And the innocence alone had his instinct wanting to protect and to claim screaming in his head. So much sadness showed in them. Even more than what he seemed to carry around. He also knew without a doubt that he had seen her before in the past.

“I’ve heard, and it’s a shame.” Her brows frowned and Blaine thought it was the cutest thing he ever saw.

“And why is that?”

She looked back out at it. “Because a place like that should never be empty. It should be lit up like Christmas always.”

“What’s your name?” Blaine asked the question, but held his breath.

The urge to wrap his arms around her was overwhelming, as well as the need to kiss her. Her pouting lips seemed to beg to be kissed, and Blaine wanted to be the one to kiss them.

She blushed, lowering her head and eyes to the ground. “I’m no one important,” she whispered.

Blaine reached out, cupping her chin, and gently forced her to look up at him. Her skin was the softest thing he could ever recall touching.

Silk and satin mixed, yet her flesh was softer. He found that he couldn’t stop his hand from touching her cheek or the thumb from brushing her lower lip. God he wanted to kiss her. Wanted to lick at that lip, suck it into his mouth and plunge his tongue into hers. He wanted to press her back against the wall and dive into her. To feel her body pressed against his own.

“Please tell me your name,” he whispered, lowering his head while he held her chin.

She started to tremble in his hand. Her breathing came faster and her eyes slowly lowered. “It’s…it’s Shyla,” she got out.

Blaine smiled brightly with his mouth mere inches from hers. “I like that.”

He kissed her and stars went off behind his eyes. Mouth slanted over mouth and his tongue brushed against her lips, seeking entrance. When it came, Blaine moaned. Nothing, absolutely nothing ever felt so right and tasted as sweet as this kiss.

His hand left her face to flatten against the wall over her head. His hard body pressed her back into the wall and his tongue plunged into her mouth. When the sharp sweetness hit him Blaine thought his knees were going to buckle. He pressed harder into her to keep himself from falling over.

His tongue tasted each and every inch of her mouth and the kiss 18

deepened. He couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t taste enough, or get close enough. Blaine moaned again when her hands fisted into his dinner jacket. He felt her desperation and her need just as he felt the raging agony of that sweet taste. All of it was a drug, fuelling his system and demanding more, and Blaine wanted it. He needed it.

“I believe she’s up here.”

Blaine stopped kissing Shyla and looked over his arm at the one who interrupted them. The governess stood with Owen by her side, his glare sobering Blaine up quickly.

“Excuse me,” the Governess stated, looking at Blaine then back giving Shyla a strange look. “I didn’t realize you were up here and that Ms. Kabrey was already occupied.”

“For the rest of the night I’m afraid,” Blaine said, matching Owen’s glare with one of his own. “She’s prefect,” he whispered, glancing down at her quickly, touching the side of her face. “I believe she’s the one.”

“Then shall I see her to your room?” the Governess asked. “Excuse me, Mr. Paterio. Shyla, please.” She motioned for Shyla to follow her out.

“What?” Shyla whispered, the fear apparent in her voice and in the way her body trembled under him.

Blaine pushed away with reluctance while the Governess took Shyla by the arm. Not once did he stop staring at Owen.

“Well I have to say, I’m a bit impressed,” Owen said, sliding his hands into his slacks pockets, looking over his shoulder once Shyla was gone. “I really didn’t think you’d figure this out or remember her.”

Looking closer at Owen, Blaine picked up how the man hadn’t really changed over the years. He still dressed in designer clothing, had his dark brown hair slicked back and a cocky expression on his face always. Even his brown eyes held the same coldness in them as they did the night Blaine figured out what his game was all about. Owen might have a shit load of money, but he still was a piece of shit to Blaine.

“Doesn’t take much to figure your crap out, Owen,” Blaine stated.

“You always did like them young.”

Owen chuckled, head back. He turned, strolling over to the side of the building. “Still playing her knight in shining armour. Tell me something, Blaine.” Owen looked Blaine in the eye, all playfulness gone.

“You really willing to marry her just to keep her away from me?”

“In a heartbeat.”

Owen shook his head. “I have to say, Blaine, it’s a side to you I never thought to see. But then you always were playing the hero to her, 19

weren’t you.”

“You’ll never have her, Owen.”

Owen smiled, and it was a cold smile. “We’ll see.” He turned and simply strolled away, back the way he came. “Have a good evening, Blaine, and enjoy yourself. I know I would if I was in your shoes tonight.”

Blaine stood there watching. He didn’t like what Owen said—
we’ll
see.
In fact he got a strange feeling over it, as if Owen might be making a threat.

He brought out his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket and dialled. “Henning, it looks like I’m going to be here all night after all.”