Destined to Feel

Destined to Feel Indigo Bloome First he opened her mind. Now she must really feel…Psychologist Alexandra Blake has been awakened sexually by her lover, Jeremy Quinn. Their erotic journey has seen Alexandra explore her innermost sexual fantasies and pushed her boundaries to their very limit.Her world is plunged into uncertainty when she is abducted in London and Alexandra finds herself caught up in a dangerous game being played out in the shadows. Her captors want to use her to explore the darkest enigma of female sexuality and Alexandra is powerless to escape – but does she even want to? How far will Alexandra be willing to go to satisfy her curiosity and her desires? Is this a game too far, or is there still everything to play for…The next thrilling erotic adventure from the creator of Destined to Play.Destined to Feel is the second book in the Avalon trilogy exploring the intricate relationships between trust and betrayal, desire and love, risk … and reward. If you liked 50 Shades of Grey, you will love Destined to Play. For my husband, whose support since this wild ride began has been nothing less than sensational ‘Do you everfeellike you were destined to play?’ ‘Only in my dreams …’ Play: engage in an activity for enjoyment or recreation rather than a serious or practical purpose, by humans or animals Feel: to perceive or examine by touch, be conscious of experience, to have a sensation of something other than by sight, hearing, taste or smell Table of Contents Title Page (#uddd45d69-dea0-5671-aefa-d4dc50ba0f76) Dedication (#u9f86c379-923f-55e7-a800-513cbc5e4d5c) Epigraph (#u4b8de69b-08e6-5f8c-82a7-d34ab5364cfe) Preface (#u0e9970ea-f5b8-5dd1-8faf-e0f0a5366d60) Part One (#u270c5d8a-9142-5a60-b871-688a599fe867) Alexa (#ud79d017a-7e7a-55de-97af-69b9282637eb) Jeremy (#uf9afe2e9-21e9-5d04-9c7f-ec658fbe4115) Part Two (#u2fe759aa-2797-5f21-996b-ef4c8c52b4fb) Alexa (#u35ed0c44-ce97-55ee-96db-d72ea65ac0e3) Jeremy (#u4f7223ad-1a32-5f26-853a-a45f8c79ecda) Part Three (#ue8917dd8-a840-5377-ae03-769b49aa5db2) Alexa (#uf67b2a33-ca94-53c1-802f-c99133ad5d18) Jeremy (#litres_trial_promo) Part Four (#litres_trial_promo) Alexa (#litres_trial_promo) Part Five (#litres_trial_promo) Jeremy (#litres_trial_promo) Part Six (#litres_trial_promo) Alexa (#litres_trial_promo) Part Seven (#litres_trial_promo) Alexa (#litres_trial_promo) Jeremy (#litres_trial_promo) Alexa (#litres_trial_promo) Part Eight (#litres_trial_promo) Alexa (#litres_trial_promo) Jeremy (#litres_trial_promo) Alexa (#litres_trial_promo) Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo) About the Author (#litres_trial_promo) Also by Indigo Bloome (#litres_trial_promo) Copyright (#litres_trial_promo) About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo) Preface If I had known then what I know now, would it be any different? I’m not sure why or how my life changed so dramatically so fast, yet it continues as if nothing has changed at all. It began with one weekend that perhaps, in hindsight, should never have happened, but deep in my soul I have a vague nagging that it was always meant to be … This leaves me embroiled within a psychological and sexual tornado that landed without any advance warning or forecast — or maybe I just missed the signs? Either way, what has happened, has happened, what will be, will be. I just don’t know how it will end, or whether I will survive the journey. Part One Care about what other people think and you will always be their prisoner. — Lao Tzu Alexa Here I am, sitting in the first-class lounge, which is another thrilling first for me, with my complimentary glass of Taittinger and snacking on lime-infused salt and pepper calamari. I lean back on the plush sofa and gaze around at the clean, modern lines of the room, with its subdued lighting and every convenience imaginable. Life is good. No, life is great, incredibly great. I can’t help but feel a little bit mystified as to how well everything has worked out. Robert and I are getting along famously now that we have finally been honest with each other about our feelings. We’ve been really focused on the kids together and I’ve no doubt it has been beneficial for them. They are the quintessential happy little vegemites and it just makes me smile. I wish I could say the same for some of my girlfriends, who are in a state of frenzied anxiety at the sudden change in my lifestyle. Admittedly, it is definitely a weird turn of events to return from a work trip with a new (old) lover, separate from your husband yet still live happily under one roof and suddenly have an international career to meld into your everyday life in Tasmania. Even thinking about it like that seems unrealistic and too bizarre for words. So I understand why a small, close-knit community would want to discuss such a scandalous state of affairs. However, I can’t say the harsh, sarcastic edge of some of their statements about my ‘illicit’ weekend away doesn’t hurt. Worse still is the snickering and whispering in huddled groups and the raising of eyebrows when I walk past to drop Elizabeth and Jordan off at school. The unspoken word is what kills me the most. Why can’t people just be upfront and stand by their convictions; or alternatively keep their opinions to themselves and say nothing instead of attempting to garner an undercurrent of bitchy gossip at the school gate? I suppose I brought most of this on myself; I could have said absolutely nothing — so do I regret telling anyone? I don’t think so … There is nothing quite like having a few close girlfriends to share the excitement, wonder and emotion of the wild rollercoaster of a ride I have been on in the past couple of months, even though I have to be deliberately evasive of the details, for obvious reasons. To be honest, they have helped keep me sane and I love them for that. I doubt they would believe my version of reality in any case, I find it difficult myself. One thing about becoming a mum is that you are forced to deal with the most judgemental species on the planet — other mothers. From breastfeeding and food to toilet training and discipline, no one is ever short of an opinion. Once you become a mother it is as if you have a god-given right to share your experience and knowledge with newer, less practised mothers who you feel are in desperate and urgent need of your extensive fountain of knowledge — I don’t deny I have been known to venture into this category myself on occasion. So we share our all-encompassing sage advice to both enhance our own egos (and reinforce to ourselves that we are on the correct parenting path) and of course, to help each other feel better about our own struggles and pitfalls. That said, I don’t believe there is a group in society who will provide you with more support when you need it but it comes, at times, with the cost of some hefty judgement calls. I keep getting flashes of the many mothers who come to my office emotionally distraught and in need of coping mechanisms to deal with the interpersonal shenanigans of motherhood that no one prepares them for. And now I find myself on the receiving end of their hidden voices questioning whether or not I’m a still a good mother. Apparently I was before my week away, but now? Who knows … and I’m making things worse by leaving again, this time going to London for a fortnight — with that man! How do I live with myself? Obviously this must constitute being a very bad mother, mustn’t it, even if it is for work? I wonder whether the judgements would be any less severe if I was going on a 10-day yoga retreat with some girlfriends for a bit of well earned rest and relaxation from the daily grind of parenthood. Would that make my choice any easier for others to swallow? I know deep in my heart that I’m a great mum and that I love my children unconditionally, as they do me. They tell me daily I’m ‘awesome’, which must count for something. The fathers, on the other hand, have been supportive of Robert although I’m not sure whether they know about his desire to explore his homosexual tendencies. Would that perhaps change things? I’m pleased he will be taking some time for himself when I return home from this trip, I think it will be just what he needs before embarking on the next phase of his life. Imagine the gossip if another man moved in … Scandalous! I chuckle at the thought. Either way, that is his business and I will respect his privacy as to ‘if’ and ‘when’ he decides to discuss his change in lifestyle with others. I shake my head to clear it from all this circular thinking — it’s entirely a waste of time to dwell on other people’s attitudes. Everyone is entitled to his or her opinion; it’s just the way in which it is shared that has me miffed. I have a few spare minutes before my flight will be called for boarding and I become more or less incommunicado for the long flight to London, with only a short stopover in Singapore. I decide to make the most of it and take a photo of the decadence before me and send it to Jeremy as a sort of ‘thanks for my new life’ message with lots of hugs and kisses. A few sips later, my phone rings and it’s him. ‘Hi, this is a surprise.’ ‘Hi, sweetheart. God, I can’t wait to see you.’ His voice is deep and sends a delightful shiver through me. ‘Hmm, likewise.’ It feels like eons since his magic hands have touched my skin. ‘I’m pleased you’re enjoying the first-class lounge.’ ‘I am, but it would be far more pleasant sharing it with you.’ ‘Not too long to wait now, I should be arriving in London about twelve hours after you; I’m travelling with Sam.’ ‘Oh, he’s with you? That’s great.’ I can’t help but think it might be a little strange meeting Professor Samuel Webster for the first time since the experiment. He had been my PhD examiner and over time had become more like an academic father than a mentor. Over the past year or so, his research team has been focused on female sexology in the field of neuroscience, which is how he ended up connecting with Jeremy and the Global Research Forum. I shift uncomfortably at the thought of him knowing what I have done … and what I had done to me. But there’s not much I can do about it now except try to remain as professional as possible in these unusual circumstances and deep down, I know he will do the same in return. It wouldn’t bother me if I were analysing someone else’s results, so I resolve to take that approach in my mind. ‘There’s so much to catch up on, Alexa. We’ve made some astonishing advances in the last month, it’s getting really exciting.’ ‘You sound excited,’ I smile. ‘I can’t wait either and I have a few questions for you too.’ ‘No doubt you do, Alexa.’ His voice reverberates in my ear as my butt tingles in recognition of the meaning behind his words. Oh no, not when I’m on the phone, how would I explain that? I need to focus on something else to distract the flow of memories and their physical effects once again disabling me in public. ‘I haven’t received any documents yet, Jeremy. Should I have? I want to be as prepared as possible when I arrive.’ ‘No, nothing yet, I’d rather go through everything with you in person. Just relax and enjoy your time. You’ll be busy enough when you get here, I promise you.’ I hear my flight being called for boarding. ‘Have to go, they’re calling my flight so I’d better get moving.’ ‘No worries, AB. It’s great to hear your voice.’ ‘I can’t wait to see you again, Jeremy, it feels like forever.’ Warmth floods my groin. ‘I know, sweetheart … well, not long now. You’re still wearing the bracelet?’ ‘Of course.’ It’s not like I can take it off. I glance down at the silver bracelet embedded with pink diamonds and fitted with a GPS chip encircling my wrist. ‘Good, I love knowing where you are.’ I roll my eyes but he can’t see me. ‘Maybe you should get one made for yourself so I can keep track of you and your jetsetting lifestyle.’ ‘I hadn’t thought of that, we’ll see.’ He chuckles, then adds seriously, ‘Far more important that I know you’re safe and secure.’ Back in protective mode, which I have to admit makes me feel rather cherished. ‘Love you, gotta go, final call.’ ‘Okay.’ He sounds reluctant to finish the call, as am I. ‘See you tomorrow night and promise me you’ll keep out of trouble.’ ‘When do I ever get into any trouble, unless I’m with you?’ ‘Alex!’ he admonishes me and then quickly adds, ‘Love you, too.’ I sense his smile all those miles away. ‘Later, sweetheart. Stay safe.’ And he’s gone. I stare at the phone as if in a daze before the final, final boarding call distracts me from my reverie. Unfortunately, with changes in time zones and my increasingly urgent carnal desires for the man I love, tomorrow night is a very long way away. * * * I am waiting on the tarmac for takeoff. I would never have thought in a million years this could be happening to me. I feel like I am steadily becoming the person I was always meant to be. I am so excited about seeing Jeremy again that I can barely contain myself as I shuffle around in my seat absorbing all the additional features of first-class. I almost feel like I did when I went on my first 747 when I was seven years old and flying to Disneyland to meet Donald and Daisy Duck — for completely different reasons, of course. Naturally, this is the adults-only version of such unfettered anticipation. The butterflies in my stomach are still there, just like before I met Jeremy in Sydney, but this time they are big and colourful and I welcome their presence as they let me know I’m vital and alive, more than I have felt for years. I finally settle in as we take off for the long journey ahead. When I arrive in Singapore I switch on my phone to send a quick text message to the kids. I can’t help but smile when I see that I’ve already received one from them with a photo, all ready for bed in their pyjamas and blowing me a kiss goodnight. My heart swells with love for them, I want to kiss the screen. I take the opportunity to stretch my legs and take a nice long walk around the ever-clean and organised Changi Airport before having a quick freshen up in the first-class lounge. I look longingly at the smooth, curved showers with their giant, rainwater showerheads, but unfortunately I don’t have enough time to linger. As I’m facing the mirror to ensure I look respectable enough for the next leg of my journey, I notice the woman at the next mirror staring at me intently. I wonder if I’m imagining this and being a bit paranoid, when she suddenly speaks to me in a rather formal polished, French-accented voice. ‘Please excuse my staring, but are you not Dr Alexandra Blake?’ Although slightly taken aback by her intensity, I answer, ‘Yes, I am.’ ‘Oh, this is wonderful.’ She visibly softens. ‘Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am Lauren Bertrand.’ She is immaculately coiffed, as only the French can be, dressed in a smart suit, matching pumps and handbag. She is an impressive-looking woman, a small powerhouse. ‘Oh, hello.’ We shake hands and it takes me a moment to search my memory for where I have heard her name before until it dawns on me that she is a member of Jeremy’s research forum. Ah yes, Doctor Lauren Bertrand. If I remember correctly I think her speciality is chemistry. ‘I work with Dr Quinn. It is so nice to meet you, welcome to the team.’ Her smile appears friendly but remains professional. ‘Of course, lovely to meet you too. Thank you.’ ‘Are you on your way to London?’ ‘Yes, my flight leaves shortly. Are you?’ ‘I’m heading to Brussels for a meeting and then home to Paris for a few days before meeting up with the team in London. The research Jeremy sent through recently is intriguing on so many fronts. I am very much looking forward to our forum and working with you more directly. Such surprising, fascinating results …’ Her eyes drift over my body and she seems lost in thought for a brief moment. I redden at her appraisal and wonder exactly which results are surprising her so much. How come she has received them as part of the forum, and why haven’t I received anything? I can’t help but flush with embarrassment and disappointment at the thought of being on the other side of the experiment without any of the analysis to critique and review. I wonder if any of my clients ever felt like this during our sessions. Quite possibly. I’m thankful to hear my flight being called as the intensity of her gaze is making me feel ill at ease. ‘Well, that’s my flight. Safe travels and I assume I’ll see you in a few days.’ ‘Absolutely, I look forward to it. Do take care, Dr Blake. I’m so pleased to have had this opportunity to meet you first-hand.’ ‘Please, call me Alexa.’ ‘Thank you, Alexa, until we meet again.’ She shakes my hand, this time with both of her hands cupping mine. I can’t decipher whether it’s from affection or possession. Weird feeling. I turn to leave as her cell phone rings and she answers quickly. Her voice is excited and clipped. ‘You’ll never guess who I’ve just bumped into … yes … she is on the next flight to London from Singapore …’ As I walk out the door as she gives me a quick wave and turns around to continue her phone call. Back on the plane and flying high, I happily drink a couple of glasses of Cape Mentelle Sauvignon Blanc Semillon. I do so love Western Australia’s Margaret River. The wine goes perfectly with my herb-encrusted fish and salad. And I can’t resist the delectable passionfruit cheesecake for dessert. As this is the longest part of my flight and I didn’t sleep on the first leg, I take great joy in donning my new, not very sexy, first-class pyjamas and socks, and flatten my seat into a bed to snuggle up against the fluffy pillow and warm blankets. I spare a thought for all those people travelling in economy, as I have so many times, and I hope they manage some upright sleep in the hours ahead. My palms moisten as I put the earplugs into my ears and I hesitate before deciding whether to use the blindfold provided. Just the thought of being blind again sends lascivious shivers down my spine and hardens my nipples against the soft cotton I’m wearing. I take a few deep breaths to temper the flow of heat rising within me and squeeze my legs together tightly to prevent the potential ambush. I quickly throw the blindfold towards the end of the bed, away from me; I’m obviously far from ready for anything to be covering my eyes after such an extreme experience last time. Although the thought of that blindfold, its silkiness, its lace … it sends me straight back to Jeremy and his tickling feathers, all over my body, his patience, my impatience … Oh dear lord. I must stop these thoughts. Thank goodness I’m in first-class so no one can see where my hands were accidentally wandering. Heaven forbid — on a plane, with people surrounding me! I fleetingly wonder whatever happened to that blindfold. Maybe Jeremy still has it? But at this moment I need sleep more than anything, not these intense, erotic feelings that need to wait another 24 hours until I am with him so they can finally explode to their passionate content. It’s as if the feelings understand that being put on hold will be worth the wait, and they subside enough to allow me to fall into a satisfying sleep. I am standing at my bedroom window in my negligee and glance over my shoulder to see Jeremy’s tanned, muscled body sound asleep in my bed. The strength of his back and his tousled, sleepy hair remind me of our recent intimate connection. I hug myself in happiness before stepping onto the balcony to see Elizabeth and Jordan playing in the garden. I smile as I wave at them, running and shouting around the willow tree. I step back inside and notice Jeremy is no longer in the bed, which is strange as he was sleeping so soundly just a moment ago. I walk out the door and downstairs calling his name, wondering where he could be. I enter the kitchen, which suddenly feels cold and empty and leaves me with a chill. I follow the draught down another set of stairs and trip over, tumbling further down, deeper and deeper. My negligee is filthy and torn and at the end of my fall I can barely move my legs, it feels like I could be wading in molasses. The stairwell above me goes on forever, too high for me to climb with my leaden legs. I scrape and crawl along the floor, commando-style, unable to see clearly where I am going. I instantly still in absolute terror when I feel something slither alongside my body. As my eyes adjust to the darkness I see the body of a thick, long snake. It pauses as if sensing my presence and my heart pounds hard and fast in my chest. Its forked tongue darts back and forth in its mouth, before it raises its head and moves seamlessly and silently onto the small of my back. I dare not breathe. Its weight is hefty as it follows down the lines of my body. I am frozen with fear as the length of its dark, thick body continues sliding leisurely between my buttocks over what’s left of my silky white negligee. Such a strange sensation, it’s as if its movement paralyses me. The last of its weight leaves my body and its tail finally smooths past my toes. It climbs up a phallus-like staff. Light is shining from above and I can see that it is bright green and gold in colour as it wraps itself around the Rod of Asclepius, the symbol for medicine and healing. I sense there is something mystical about the vision before me and I can’t help but be in awe of the snake’s presence — my previous fear is immediately replaced by a sense of peace and calm. At the same time I’m about to turn away, I feel painless drops of blood pool in my belly button before sliding directly downwards. Strangely, it gives me strength and I know I must continue on my own journey to the light. I head towards an archway, momentarily glancing over my shoulder to reflect on the path of my shedding skin. As I round the corner into the glimmer of light, my arms have become wings and my nose a beak. I carefully poke out into the air, spread my magnificent wings and fly, feeling my body strengthen with each passing second. I fly higher and higher into a majestic tree. My bird’s-eye vision fastens on an owl resting on another branch. It’s as if he nods to me and I acknowledge him by lowering my head in return. I see the world like I’ve never seen it before, so high, such perspective. As I tuck my wings back around my body, they brush against a nest full of eggs nestled discreetly into the hefty branch. One egg wobbles dangerously over the edge, as if in slow motion. I attempt to save it as my body leaves the safety of the branch and my wings lengthen to protect its fall. I wake up suddenly with the feeling I’m falling and gasp out loud, completely disoriented. What a weird dream. I don’t ever remember dreaming of animals. It leaves me feeling a little anxious and with a sudden sense of foreboding — as if there is a path I’m destined to take that could result in short-term pain for long-term gain. I shake my head to dislodge the mental images from my mind. I wish I had my dream book with me. Maybe I can find an app when I land that will help me interpret such vivid, colourful imagery. The lights shine in my eyes and breakfast is being served. I must have been asleep for a while. I change from my pyjamas back into my travel clothes and look forward to my imminent arrival, a step closer to Jeremy and whatever he has planned for me this week. I’m so excited to finally be here and soon to be in the arms of the man I love — have always loved. I can’t keep the smile from my face. * * * Finally, we touch down in London as scheduled. I walk through the swinging doors at Heathrow and notice a chauffeur standing with my name on a placard. What a pleasure it is to travel like this, with every detail smoothly organised. We share greetings as he takes my luggage. When we arrive at a luxury black sedan with the door open, there is another man standing beside it dressed in similar attire to the chauffeur. ‘Good morning, Dr Blake. Welcome to London.’ ‘Good morning. Thank you, it’s great to be here.’ I smile as he opens the door for me and the first man takes care of my luggage. As I settle myself in the back seat, ensuring I have everything, I hear my name being called from somewhere in the distance behind me. As I look over my shoulder I am stunned to see Jeremy and Samuel running towards the car I am in. How amazing. What on earth are they doing here? I didn’t think they were due in until later tonight? I wave my hand in surprised recognition as the driver’s assistant suddenly shoves the door closed and bolts into the front seat. I see the panic in Jeremy’s and Sam’s eyes and on their faces as they run towards me. Just as I am about to ask the driver to wait for them, the car surges forward and I am flung across the back seat. I ask them to stop, telling the driver that I know those men. Jeremy is now running after the car and banging on the back window and there’s fear in his eyes. Something is terribly wrong. I try to open the side window to speak to him, but there is no button. The window tint turns black and I can’t see his face any more. The door is locked and as I turn around to look at the driver, a blackened barrier rises between the back and front seats. I scream and bash on the door and the glass. We are moving fast. I start to tremble as the memory of Jeremy’s agonised face is etched firmly on my brain. I fumble for my phone in my handbag, only to find there is no service indicated. I don’t understand any of this. I am in a blackened car with no phone reception. Who are these drivers? I bang on the windows and barrier, screaming at these men, trying to make sense of what is happening. I attempt to open the doors, urgently checking both of them and bang my palms until they hurt with pain against the black tinted windows. What is this about? Suddenly I feel woozy, faint. Then I don’t feel anything at all … Jeremy My world closes in on me in slow motion as I witness the scene in front of me in astonished disbelief. My chest is collapsing within my ribcage. I can’t breathe. Alexa has literally disappeared from within an inch of my grasp, before my very eyes. ‘Sam, grab that taxi, we need to follow them. Quick, jump in.’ We leap into the back of the first black London cab idling in the rank. ‘Follow that black sedan in front,’ I shout at the driver. ‘We can’t afford to lose them.’ He drives off much too slowly. ‘This isn’t Hollywood, mate. Let me tell you right now, I’m not losin’ my fuckin’ licence for a bit of your James Bond nonsense.’ I slam the seat hard with my fist. What a fucking nightmare! The driver immediately pulls over to the kerb. ‘Get out, get out of my cab, I don’t need you bastards smashing things up. Piss off. Go on, get out.’ Shit. I’ve never been this out of control. When it becomes clear that the driver is going nowhere with us inside his cab, we scramble out again. Sam stands speechless and shocked as we are left on the side of the road wondering what the hell we are going to do now. * * * We arrived at Heathrow late last night as I had a meeting cancelled and could get to London earlier than planned. I couldn’t wait to surprise Alexa by greeting her personally, to wrap my arms around her and tell her how much I’ve missed her, how much she means to me. I had the whole day planned. I took the liberty of taking a larger hotel suite than usual so we could share, but booked a small room in her name too, just in case she had an issue with it — I know Alex has quite fixed ideas when it comes to presenting a professional persona to the outside world. Given this is her first involvement with the Global Research Forum she may have wanted to keep up certain appearances and I didn’t want to kick-start our time together making incorrect assumptions. I know it wouldn’t take much convincing for her to stay with me, but if it would make her happy to have a room booked in her own name as well, then I’m all for it, particularly after everything she went through last time we met up. God, I just shake my head at the thought. Having her consent freely to what she went through, what she agreed to, for me. What a woman, she just never ceases to amaze me. It literally makes my cock tingle thinking about her — how damn gorgeous she looks when she desperately tries to deny what her body is feeling, sounding all prim and proper. I always try to remain as aloof as possible until it gets so ridiculous I have to hit her with her own redundant attitudes head on — or simply touch her. Both strategies have yielded me endless success in the past. I hadn’t decided whether we should consummate our reunion on arrival or later in the day. Even though the delay would be gratifying, I didn’t think I’d have the restraint to wait given it’s been over a month since I’ve seen her. And now I catch a glimpse of her for two seconds and then she vanishes and it’s my fucking fault. Shit! I’ve been briefed on her every movement since she returned to Hobart, every single move. We even had cameras installed to monitor her front gate so we could identify every person who entered her house. I didn’t mention it to Alexa, as I didn’t want to freak her out, particularly over the phone, and then she’d have to explain to Robert why we needed to take extra precautions so I decided it wasn’t worth all the hassle. Better I just make the decisions and deal with any consequences later, it’s more my style. I also haven’t told her that my computer suffered an attempted hacking. They accessed some files and, although thankfully they didn’t access those I had embedded with additional security, they still have more than enough information about Alexa’s involvement in the experiment than I would like. I get the sense that they have an idea of where we are going with the formula. I have no doubts now that they want what we have got. Thank god I didn’t send her the detailed documents. If she knew everything it would make things so much worse for her. I just didn’t realise they would take things to this extreme and abduct her. Christ! Who would do this, who would take this risk? What a fucking mess. If they lay a finger on her, I swear … Stop! Stop these morbid thoughts, Quinn, and do something rather than standing here swearing and getting lost in your worst-case scenarios. Actions are more important than words. Just fix it! All these thoughts shoot through my head in the space of a second. I notice Sam beside me staring, mouth open, towards where the car disappeared with Alexa — the one woman in the world I have finally admitted I love more than life itself — leaving us standing in its wake. Fuck, this is so bad! I grab my phone from inside my jacket and dial our driver to let him know where we are. He finally pulls in, after circling the perimeter of Heathrow while we waited for Alexa. As we quickly settle into the car my brain finally kicks into action mode rather than shock. ‘Sarah, get me Leo on the phone, now. It’s an emergency.’ I wait impatiently as my assistant connects me. I end up reaching Moira in New York, his ‘be all and end all’ personal assistant who knows almost every facet of Leo’s life. We have liaised often during the past decade since Leo is never in one spot for too long. ‘Moira, it’s Jeremy. Is Leo there? Where is he? Jesus fucking Christ. The Amazon?’ She tells me that he is deep within the northern region of the Amazon basin living with the Wai Wai people, studying soul flight with the village shaman, and he can’t be contacted for at least three weeks. Bloody hell. That’s Leo for you. ‘We have a massive problem. Alexa has been abducted. Yes, now … right now … right in front of my eyes. Yes, I’m with Sam, he saw it too. Two men, obviously posing as chauffeurs. They just shoved her in when they saw us running towards her … No, I didn’t recognise them.’ I raise my eyebrows towards Sam. He shakes his head. ‘No, he doesn’t either. Yeah, we lost them. Shit. They could be anywhere now.’ Moira shifts immediately into gear, just as Leo would. She’s already been intimately involved in trying to find out who hacked into our computers and the attempted blackmail, so she’s across all the details. Leo also organised for her to secretly compile personal dossiers on each of the Global Research Forum members, just in case the leaks and threats were coming from one of our own people; anger pumped through my veins at the thought, but I couldn’t deny he had a point. I haven’t mentioned it to Sam or any of the others. Moira has the ability to access resources to handle emergencies on behalf of Leo, though we never imagined anything like this. She’s calm and efficient, but my panic makes me feel like shouting given the seriousness of this situation. I take a deep breath before responding in an attempt to control my rising fear. ‘Okay … and Martin’s available?’ Martin Smythe looks after Leo’s security issues. He’s ex-CIA, quick-thinking and highly capable and it’s a huge relief he’ll be involved. Leo had organised for him to be at Avalon just in case anything unforeseen occurred. ‘That’s great, he can organise the team and can you make sure they have a contact in Scotland Yard? We’ll need to monitor London’s security system.’ God, in this city, we’ll never find her with so many millions of people swarming around. No, can’t think like that. My hands begin to shake. Control it, Quinn, I admonish myself as Moira asks what else I need. ‘Can you send through the latest information you have on the hackers and we’ll also need anything you have on what drugs the top five pharmaceuticals are taking to market in the next five years, as soon as you get it together. And get some people working on the next five companies, just in case. We need to work out who is this fucking desperate — there must be a link somewhere that we’ve been missing! Okay, yeah, will do … and thanks Moira, I really appreciate it. I’m desperate to get her back.’ I press ‘end’ and realise my hands are now trembling. I shove the phone back in my pocket and rub both hands through my hair in sheer exasperation at this diabolical situation. I turn to Sam who is still speechless which, given my internal fury and dread, is probably a good thing. As we silently make our way to Covent Garden, I absently stare out the window and thank god for Leo and I connecting when he had his accident all those years ago — my life changed for the better as soon as I met him and, ultimately, he was able to orchestrate my scholarship at Harvard and essentially my future career path from that point forward. Leroy Edward Orwell — the philanthropist who has sponsored my work at every level for more than a decade. He has been the financial backbone of every breakthrough and discovery I’ve been involved in. He comes from a family with a long history of inconceivable wealth, providing him with incredible access to global contacts and resources. We first met when I was in the Royal Flying Doctor Service and was on call. He was abseiling near Kings Canyon in the Northern Territory and had a bad fall when he was rappelling off the rock face and one of his anchors didn’t hold. He ended up breaking his leg and had to be airlifted out. We bonded during his recovery time and learnt much about each other’s ambitions and motivations. Even though he is ten years older than me, the nurses used to joke that we could be brothers, although I’ve always thought he was more of a Rob Lowe type. Either way, aging has been kind to him and he keeps himself incredibly toned and fit. There has always been a healthy competition between us in relation to the state of our bodies, and we keep each other in check. We certainly don’t want to risk letting ourselves flab into middle age. Leo’s passion is anthropology, more specifically biomedical anthropology — his nirvana is the holistic integration of Western ‘science and medicine’ with Eastern ‘philosophies and spirituality’. He’s a big thinker and has studied extensively. He has an extraordinary mind; I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t in awe of his brain. Global phenomena intrigue him and my work is just one piece of the myriad projects he’s indirectly involved in. His seemingly extrasensory perception has certainly worked in his favour when it comes to ensuring his continued financial success, having managed to quadruple his already substantial wealth over recent years. His only requirement of me is to maintain his anonymity in public. I don’t have the opportunity to see him in person much, but it’s great when we do get together. He enjoys his private, more reclusive lifestyle and I respect that in him, but we have a lot in common and his conversation is always enlivening. Leo was intrigued with my theories and suppositions regarding blood types and depression and even flew out to Sydney and attended Alexa’s lecture with me, highly irregular behaviour for him. To this day I’m not sure whether it was for the project or whether he sensed that my meeting up with Alex was potentially something far more significant. He really is one of those people who seem to have a sixth sense about things, and I suppose he was spot on. Alexa always called him Charlie — as in Charlie’s Angels — as she has never met him, only heard about him. Actually, he was posing as the ma?tre d’ and served martinis to me and Alex at the InterContinental during our weekend together. Obviously she didn’t see him as she was wearing the blindfold and he didn’t want to be introduced. He was a little shocked when he had to cuff her at my request. Afterwards I had to explain to him that she did her first thesis on the instinct and suppression of sexual behaviour, and why I believed this was an important part of our journey together should she resist and not acknowledge her true feelings. This was also coincidently just after I received an anonymous letter at the hotel threatening me in relation to her pulling out of the experiment. I couldn’t tell if it was a hoax or not and had no time to explore it further during the scope of the weekend, which admittedly put me a little on edge myself. I knew I couldn’t risk her walking away from me for many reasons, let alone the heightened danger the letter presented. Either way, it certainly created both playful fear and extreme arousal in Alex (her body has always proved a more accurate radar for reflecting her true disposition), which she admitted afterwards she found truly fascinating. Leo asked if he could have a copy of her thesis and Alex generously sent a copy through for me to forward on to him. I was only ever allowed to read her original hard copy all those years ago but thankfully I have a great memory. No doubt it would have been intriguing for her to read it again after our experience together — or rewrite it perhaps … Anyway, Leo’s funds have enabled him to acquire properties around the world that he believes hold either mystical or spiritual significance to cultures past and present — they are known as Avalon. It’s his concept, his baby if you like, and he offered me his executive treehouse on Lord Howe Island to ensure Alexa’s safety and wellbeing after our weekend together. His only condition was that she was not to know its location. I remember wanting to ask him why, but the look on his face stopped me, even though his demeanour remained calm and placid. I’ve learnt over the years when to question and debate with Leo, which most of the time he embraces with gusto, but this was not one of those occasions, so I maintained my silence and kept my promise. He doesn’t ask too much from me and he has done so much for me, it’s the least I could do. Thinking about it, in hindsight I wonder if he had a sense that she was at greater risk than we originally thought, or whether he felt there was something unique about Alexa, even before we further tested our hypotheses, given his direct involvement and his insistence that I take her to Avalon. I sigh as these thoughts and memories flood my mind while our car smoothly drives past Buckingham Palace and on to Pall Mall. So much for her safety now … * * * Sam and I check in at One Aldwych. I stare aimlessly around the suite in which I had invested such high hopes and expectations. I can’t deny the emptiness I’m feeling without Alexa here by my side, or the rising turmoil in my gut as to where she could be. I stare blankly at my laptop as if her whereabouts is going to miraculously appear before my eyes. I haven’t heard back from Moira yet, which is driving me mad, but I know she’s efficient and does her job like no other. I don’t want to bother her unnecessarily, but every second counts and I feel like I’m in Alexa limbo. I’m half tempted to call Scotland Yard myself to sort this hideous mess out. I can’t get my mind off the letter I had received during our weekend away that indirectly threatened the safety of Alex’s children if I didn’t go ahead with the experiment. It must be the same people. Shit. If only I could turn back time we would not be in this mess. I should have organised for the whole family to be with me in the safety of Avalon until all this crap passed over and we figured out who was behind it but as we didn’t receive anything else, we instead just increased security and surveillance at Alexa and Robert’s house as a precautionary measure. Now this, they’ve abducted her — if they’re willing to go to these extremes, will it ever be over? I slam the laptop closed in frustration — it’s not as if it’s giving me any of the answers I so urgently need. What I need is a strong drink. I’m driving myself crazy. I pass by Sam’s room and tap on the door before opening it. He’s absorbed in his laptop, maybe hoping for answers just as futilely as I was. ‘I’m heading to the bar, can I get you anything?’ ‘I’ll join you in half an hour or so. I want to reorganise the priorities for my team in Sydney so they are on standby to research the information Moira will be sending through and I’ll offer any assistance to Martin in setting up a more sophisticated tracker on Alexandra’s bracelet. You never know, they might find something. I know it’s a long shot but …’ He sounds despondent as he looks up from his work and his eyes register both our misery. ‘Thanks Sam, it will all help and they’re a bright bunch by the sounds of it. I’ll let McKinnon know we’ll need to defer the forum indefinitely and he can inform the other members.’ ‘Of course, I should have thought of that, he is the Chair, after all. I’ll see you downstairs. I suppose there’s not too much else we can do until we hear back from Moira.’ I close his door and trudge towards the lift. I’m not used to being this useless. I need action, to hunt down her abductors, not just make phone calls, damn it. Being forced to wait is killing me. In the lobby bar I stare aimlessly into the flames of the candelabra, jiggling the ice around in my double shot of Glenmorangie. Some slick chick asks me if I want company tonight and I motion her away with a wave of my hand. As if I could think of anyone but Alex at the moment, as if I ever will again — even my dick concurs. My mind flits back through the many times we have played together. She never disappointed me, has always been willing to try anything with me, explore and push the boundaries. Of all the women I have been with, and there have been many over the years, she is the one I keep coming back to. The one I couldn’t get out of my head even when I was being pleasured by two buxom blondes in California, or getting a blow job from a lusty redhead with a mouth to die for. It was Alex — her body, her mind, her heart — that kept floating erratically through my mind during those moments of random pleasure, preventing me from committing further to any other woman in my life. I never spoke about her of course, they didn’t need to know. Marie was close and wanted our relationship to go further, but I couldn’t bring myself to commit, not when I knew Alex was still out there, even if she was unavailable and on the other side of the world. We are still friends but she’s as wrapped up in her career as I am in mine and marrying Marie would have been like a business deal, Kardashian-style, all for show but without any grounded substance. Marriage should mean more than that. Besides, I needed to know once and for all, where I stood with AB. I knew she was married with kids; I’m Jordan’s godfather after all, even if I haven’t exactly been a major presence in his life. The weekend away I organised with her meant everything to me. I knew from the second she agreed to stay that, finally, this was our time, our destiny and that my philandering ways were over. This was the real deal. There was no way I was ever going to let her go again. And it couldn’t have worked more perfectly. My meticulous planning paid off in every way possible. I had to ensure our lives would be entangled together somehow from that point forward — whether it was professionally, sexually or psychologically. I didn’t mind which one, actually, if I’m perfectly honest I was obviously hoping to achieve all three and hit the jackpot. Breaking through her boundaries, removing all the layers of defensive constructs she’d built up over the years and finally witnessing her willingness to experiment made me fall even more in love with her all over again. Not to mention her effect on my research. The results are absolutely extraordinary but shit, at what cost? What would have happened if she hadn’t agreed to be involved? I would never have forced her into anything she wasn’t willing to do herself and ultimately she did it willingly, but with the blackmail letter I received on the Friday night of our weekend hanging over my head, threatening the safety of her children … I just couldn’t risk it. Anything could seem like an accident when they were travelling in the wilderness of Tasmania. I certainly didn’t want to scare her or put her children in any danger, all because of my work. They mean the world to her; they are her world. In the end, I was pleased that I hadn’t caused her any worry by mentioning it to her and I thought it had all worked out, but now the letter, then the computer hacking, and finally the abduction, all tumbles into one sordid picture — but who is behind it? Who would stoop so low? Who would take that risk to put her in so much personal danger? They must have a lot at stake or maybe I have more enemies than I realised … My head literally aches as my brain runs through numerous scenarios. I remind myself that Alexa is strong, has always been strong and oftentimes is stronger than she realises. Christ, look what she did for me! At least I know they won’t want her dead. She is no use to them dead; these results require that she is very much alive. Thank god! But I also know it is highly unlikely they will achieve the results we did. My stomach churns at the thought of what they may put her through, how they might want to touch her. It sickens me to the core. The only way I want my Alexa to receive pleasure is under my instruction. No one knows her body the way I do, and at least that knowledge calms my churning gut a little. Hang in there, sweetheart, we’ll find you. The light from the candles continues to flicker. I swipe my finger through their flames, feeling the heat but not the burn, and it sparks a memory from a happier time. * * * We are in the middle of a five day skiing trip to Val d’Is?re with a group of friends. It’s such an amazing resort, the snow and weather have been exceptional as is the chalet we are staying in. We have a dedicated chef and as much wine and champagne as we can drink. We’ve been skiing hard each day and chilling out when the sun goes down. Alex has improved dramatically on the slopes in the past two days. She has only skied once before. I’m really proud of her perseverance, she never gives up and today we managed some red runs together, so it’s a massive improvement. She has one spill when some dickhead trying to show off loses control and bowls her over. She hurtles over the side of the run and I only know where she is when I see her poke her stick up from the body-deep snow. Once I can see she’s not injured, we can’t stop laughing, which makes it even more difficult for me to haul her out of her predicament. ‘Could you be covered in any more snow if you tried?’ It’s taking all my strength to keep a grip on her, as I try to control my chuckles. She looks like the sexiest, cutest snow creature I’ve ever seen, white flakes caked through her hair and sitting on top of her eyelashes. I decide there is no way I’m sharing her with the others tonight. We’ll stay in and this has given me the perfect excuse. ‘It’s not like I planned it this way, Jeremy. Is that guy okay?’ Her voice is muffled under the snow. Typically she’s more worried about the idiot who did this, than herself. I give one last heave and out she pops, landing on top of me — which I have no issue with whatsoever. ‘The maniac who took you out? He’s long gone, but are you sure you’re okay?’ ‘Yeah, I’m fine, but I’ve got snow everywhere, absolutely everywhere, inside and out!’ ‘Well, maybe we should call it a day. I’ve got an idea that should warm you up nicely.’ Oh yes, there’s the mischievous look in her eyes. I’ve piqued her interest. ‘What did you have in mind, Dr Quinn?’ ‘Let’s just get you inside and de-snowed. We’ll be staying in tonight.’ No arguments from the lady. It’s the chef’s night off so our friends head out for a big night — more than likely till about 4 a.m. I’m pleased we now have the chalet to ourselves and I have important plans for our evening together. My cock has been twitching for action all day and is very happy to be free of the restraints of my ski clothes. As I walk past the bathroom, the door is left slightly ajar, which is convenient because I catch Alexa’s reflection in the mirror … hard for me to miss when she’s in the shower naked. That’s all the encouragement I need. I immediately strip off my boxers and T-shirt and join her, fully erect and raring to go. Her smile confirms I’m a welcome presence as I slide the soap from her fingers and skilfully take over the cleansing process in her place. She doesn’t resist me and is used to me taking the lead, she loves it and god knows, so do I. I could devour her breasts, they’re more than a handful and I have large hands. I slide my soapy palms all over the curves of her body as my eyes greedily take her in. I love watching the impact my touch has on her body, it’s the only thing that tempers my impatient cock. I massage her thighs as I watch her mouth open to let out a sigh, yes, she knows what’s coming, I kiss that mouth, those soft, full lips and taste her desire for me, so I slow my strokes, knowing she will soon need the support of the wall or my body. My cock is furious with this strategy so I’m forced to quicken my play. I turn her around so she’s facing the wall, my hands continue to massage her plump, full breasts and play with her taut nipples. Her eyes are closed so she’s already to the point of no return, just as I want her. My cock rests between the crack in her arse while my fingers find her opening, teasing it wider. Her head rests back against my chest exposing her delectable neck, but my needs are too raw, too immediate. She’s panting rapidly as her body presses tight against the wall. I spread her legs and butt cheeks to clear the passage for my cock to slide through her welcoming flesh so I can push as far as I can into her soft, enveloping centre. As I take her from behind, my hungry shaft penetrates her layers further and higher, and she groans in ecstatic response. Her sounds encourage me to completely fill her and pump harder and faster. I love the power she surrenders to me, that I have over her responsive body, and my cock is in heaven before it explodes into her sweet tunnel. It’s my favourite place in the world, as if our bodies were made for each other and she never disappoints. Ever. A little calmer now that my pent-up sexual tension has found its release, I put on some music, light the fire and a few candles around the room — quite a few. I have a thing about candles, and tonight the whole concept of warming her up propels me into action. I’m impatient waiting for Alexa, so I entice her out of the bathroom with promises of a Cointreau and ice, some stinky cheese, oozing brie and crunchy bread. Finally, she emerges flushed and glistening from the bathroom. ‘Sant?.’ ‘Sant?.’ ‘Dr Quinn, you’re not going all romantic on me, are you? You do have certain playboy standards to maintain.’ ‘That I do, Alexandra. You just bring out the best in my imagination.’ ‘Imagination? Surely you can do better than candles, Cointreau and cheese?’ She does like to tease … I can indeed do better, but I remain silent and just give her a ‘watch this space’ look. Which she misses because she is settling all cosy-like into the lounge. There’ll be none of that! ‘Drink up, I want you naked and on the floor by the fire.’ She looks up at me carefully, assessing my seriousness, before slowly taking another sip of her drink. Will she, won’t she? I ponder. I give her a moment to do as I ask of her own free will, and take another sip myself, tempering my impatience to have her where I want her, immediately. Our eyes are locked as we play this game of psychic cat and mouse. I let her continue with her little charade. She defiantly takes another sip before placing her drink on the side table. She’s very deliberately taking her time; she’ll pay for that later. She stands up and slowly undoes the tie of her robe before letting the robe fall off her shoulders. God, she looks hot and she isn’t wearing anything underneath. Love your style, Alexa, what a legend. I can’t take my eyes off her glistening skin; my arousal is piqued all over again. She casually saunters over to the platter, helps herself to the cheese and bread. She munches away, still not saying a word, jiggles her tits to the music as she returns across the room to her glass, and this time has a giant mouthful of the icy drink, swishing it around her mouth before swallowing the citrus liquid. There is nothing about her I don’t want this second. She raises her eyebrows and I place my palm out towards her, which she gracefully accepts, finally. She likes the notion of having some power, even in the process of her submission to me. I congratulate myself for my patience (which always pays off when it comes to Alex) and lead her to where I want her, naked, on the rug and at my mercy. ‘So, now that I’m here, what are you going to do with me?’ I have to stop the carnal visions that penetrate my brain as a result of her words. I don’t bother responding verbally, I just run my fingers along the outline of her body. I start with her big toe and take my time bumping over her smaller toes, around the side of her foot, her calf, her outer thighs. I follow the curve of her butt and the indent of her waist, allow my little finger to languidly caress her nipple on my way past her breast, but not enough to create any real friction so I know I have the complete attention of both her body and mind. The softness of her skin never ceases to amaze me; my fingers and my eyes absorb its texture and tone. Of all the women I have been with, none ever feels like Alex beneath my touch. As I move past her arm, I take it with me and raise it above her head so her breast is lifted upward. It takes every bit of willpower to prevent me lowering my lips to her nipple to nibble and suck, knowing it will instantly arch her back and wet her sex. If my cock had a voice it would be groaning, but my brain is still in control, as it should be. I continue my journey around her face, knowing her eyes are locked on mine. I must concentrate on the sensations I am causing on her body, not lose focus. I raise her other arm above her head. This is more like it, unfettered access to my gorgeous plaything. I notice her breaths becoming shallow in her chest and I know this is turning her on, big time, and she knows it’s the same for me. I don’t lose sight of my mission as my fingers continue to glide along her sexy contours, I can’t wait to arrive at her thighs and notice my breathing is also shallow. It will be worth it, I remind myself. Finally, I’m there, sliding along the softness of her inner flesh, wanting to bury my head between her legs and my tongue in her opening, but I deliberately tease before meandering past and back down to the toe where I started. At last! ‘Now, are you ready to play?’ ‘Jeez, Jeremy, you’re slowly killing me here.’ There is nothing quite like the sound of Alexa’s voice when she’s almost begging for it. Absolutely worth the tortuous slowness of my journey around her body. ‘I don’t think you’ll have the willpower to stay in this position, Alexandra, so I am going to bind your wrists.’ When it comes to women, I have learnt that statements are far more effective than questions; that way, they don’t have to give themselves permission (which is always the case with Alex). If they say nothing, you have told them what will happen. They can always say no, but never seem to, in my experience anyhow. I grab the tie from Alexa’s robe and securely fasten her wrists together above her head. She knows she can stop me, but given the playful look of feigned horror in her eyes, she won’t. Oh no, she definitely wants this as much as me. It intrigues her as to what I’m going to do next, just as it excites me. ‘Seems like you are taking a few liberties tonight, Jeremy.’ She doesn’t resist me whatsoever. ‘Only you could inspire me to take such liberties, Alexandra.’ Okay, almost ready. I move one of the lounge chairs over so I can tie her bound wrists to the leg of the chair. I know she’ll be shocked by what I’m going to do, but she’ll love it once she gets used to it. One of my friends-with-benefits at Harvard did it to me, and although the feeling was fascinating, I couldn’t stand not being in control. All I could think about was how Alexa’s body would react instead and I’ve wanted to try it with her ever since. Now, I have my chance. ‘Is this added security necessary? Anchoring me to the base of a chair? What if the others come home early?’ ‘They won’t.’ I know this because I have organised for Craig to call me if it looks like anyone is leaving early. As if I’d be that unprepared … she should know me better than that by now. I take a moment to absorb the sight of her exposed and trapped body. My cock springs spontaneously out of the split in my boxer shorts. Alexa laughs. ‘I’m not sure who’s more turned on by this scenario, you or me.’ I always wonder if she’s aware that she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip when she says things like that. I don’t want to mention it in case she stops doing it. I lower my head to her sex and sniff, animal instinct taking me over. She smells sensational and there is no doubt in my mind she’s ready. I lick, darting my tongue between her lips and around the edges of her hot, wet layers. She groans in response, arching her back but unable to move her arms from over her head, and I kiss and suck a little more, teasing her swelling clitoris, before raising my head from between her thighs, her sweet juice on my lips, and grin at her shocked face. ‘I’d say it’s a dead heat at this point, sweetheart. But that’s not why we’re here.’ I reach over her body lowering my groin over her head, my dick dangling deliberately close to her lips, so I tease her knowing she can’t lift her head high enough to fully take me. God, this is fun — she is so frustrated by desire but trying to be so contained. I love it! I pick up one of the candles from around the fireplace and bring it back to our position on the rug. ‘Jeremy … what are you doing? You’re not really going to use that, are you?’ She sounds a little nervous now. ‘Have you ever done this before?’ She shakes her head. No words, she’s silently debating pros and cons in her mind. It’s so obvious I can almost hear it. Best get moving before she talks herself out of it. ‘I’ve done it before, and I know you’ll like it, Alexa. Trust me. I’d never hurt you.’ She closes her eyes, a good sign; she’s silently giving in to herself, giving in to me. ‘I’ll start slowly, somewhere less sensitive, you choose. That way you can get used to the sensation.’ Always good to let her know she still has a say, some power. ‘Where do you recommend?’ And the power returns so gallantly back to its rightful place … ‘Feet, and I’ll work my way up. Ready?’ I locate the remote control from behind me and turn the volume of the music up; we both like Chicane and it will help Alex relax into the experience. She nods. She is ready and I can’t help but be in awe of her willingness to experiment sexually with me, the absolute trust she places in me. No one on earth compares to Alexa when we are like this together. It’s exhilarating. She closes her eyes and holds her breath as I position the candle over her legs and I carefully drop a small amount of wax on the front of her foot, and wait. She sighs and visibly relaxes. Not as bad as she was expecting. Her consent allows me to continue. As I move slowly up her legs, her body shivers and her skin responds with goosebumps. ‘Keep your eyes open, sweetheart, I need to see you.’ I’m utterly absorbed in her reaction as I eventually move closer to her belly, lust clouding her eyes. I ensure the candle cradle is full of liquid wax as I tip enough on her skin to fill her belly button. ‘Oh … my … god …’ She gasps, arches her back in response and a light moan escapes her lips as her trapped wrists continue to anchor her body to the floor. I hope I don’t come before this is over. She looks even hotter than she does in my dreams; I had no idea that was possible! If her arms were free she’d cover herself, but she can’t and I’m pleased I went to the effort of restraints. Even so I’d better check in to make sure; I’d never want to hurt her, even accidentally. ‘Are you okay? It’s a shock, isn’t it?’ ‘Yes, a complete shock. So hot, but it doesn’t burn, then the warmth follows … It feels so weird in my bellybutton, as if you’ve tapped into my core.’ Bless her. Such abandon and analysis at the same time. I watch as the wax hardens on her belly like a plug and place my palm over it, feeling her heat. I can’t prevent myself from kissing her sensuous lips and penetrating her mouth with my tongue as she lies beneath me, mesmerised. She responds with such immediate and unexpected passion that after a few moments we are both rendered literally breathless. This wasn’t part of my plan but I’m certainly not complaining. I fleetingly wonder if she has any idea just how much sexual energy and raw lust is screaming out of her pores. It shocks even me. Either way, her nipples are exactly how I want them now, hard, pert and ready for action. I straddle her body, ensuring her legs are as anchored as her hands. I need to get a move on now, otherwise it will be my juice over her nipples instead of hot wax. ‘Oh god, Jeremy … Are you sure?’ ‘Very sure, sweetheart, you’ll love it. I’ve been thinking of this since we arrived. I want moulds of your gorgeous tits. Now lie still, I don’t want to miss.’ She takes deep breaths, no doubt attempting to control any nerves or anxiety. And now she waits. ‘Open your eyes for me.’ I love it when she follows my commands. It makes her that much more perfect for me. My intention was to do one nipple at a time, but I’m so ready to explode I pick up another candle, swivel it around to ensure it has the same level of liquid wax and decide to trust my medical precision to do both nipples at the same time. The look on Alexa’s face is priceless — apprehension, curiosity and excitement all at once. ‘Trust me, I’m a doctor.’ I wink at her as I position each candle high above her breasts. The suspense is killing her, which I love, so I wait a little longer to coincide with the chorus in the music. I ask her to calm her breathing because it’s moving her breasts too much, knowing full well she has a snowball’s chance in hell of doing anything about it. She groans loudly in frustrated excitement. I know she’d slap me at this point if she could. The time is right and I pour the silky hot wax on both nipples and she writhes and screams at the shock of it; I can only imagine the sensation, knowing how much more sensitive her nipples are than mine. But I also know the initial shock is worth the feeling and the pleasure that follows. I’m thrilled that she is experiencing this, knowing she’ll love it. ‘Ahhhh, god, Jeremy. That’s hot, so fucking hot. Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ Swearing, that’s unusual for her. She strains against her bound arms and her hips are bucking against mine as my weight pins her to the floor. And then the wax starts to cool against her delicate pink buds. I need to distract the tsunami building within my balls, so I carefully place the candles down, keeping one close by and I wait till her need for me inside her replaces the sensation of heat penetrating her nipples. ‘Fuck me, please, for god’s sake, Jeremy, fuck me, now!’ It would be rude to deny such a delicate, polite request. I quickly raise my body and gently flip her over, lifting her gorgeous arse into me so she is positioned on her knees and elbows. I make sure I position my penis slowly and carefully into her moist vagina, allowing her surrounding cushioned flesh to feel full and tight around me. There is nowhere else on earth my cock would rather be. ‘Jeremy!’ Her patience is non-existent and she pants her frustration into the carpet, her swollen wax-capped nipples dangling in the air towards the rug below. Her body looks fucking sensational from this perspective. I pick up the candle by my side and pour a steady stream of the melted wax on to the top of her crack ensuring its predetermined path flows directly downwards. Her behind bucks and jolts with the shocking intensity of the sensation, and she releases an almighty scream as her vagina tenses around my cock causing tight, twisting exquisite pleasure as I explode into her. We lose ourselves in the magical connection of each other’s bodies and simultaneous orgasms rip through our muscles before she ultimately surrenders beneath me. From the moment I laid eyes on her, I sensed she was the one for me, the connection to my heart and my soul. But we were too young, had so much of life to explore. I had to test the boundaries outside my feelings for Alexa, push her away before I understood how much she meant to me. The years flew by and my feelings grew deeper, more intense, my connection to her like the root structure of a majestic rainforest tree in fertile soil. Part Two Emotions occur precisely when adaptation is hindered for whatever reason. — E. Clapar?de Alexa As I come to, my head hurts and my body feels heavy. I’m sitting up but my limbs are securely bound, restricting all movement. I am travelling smoothly through a crowd, people rushing in every direction. I can only see fast-moving legs and bodies and I have to look up to see into their faces which makes me dizzy. I realise I’m strapped to a wheelchair. My heart pumps fast with adrenaline fuelling my fear as the clarity of this nightmare crystallises in my mind. I attempt to scream, only to discover it’s stifled, my mouth taped shut. I look down to see full-length black robes covering my clothes. I shake my head but my hair, nose and mouth are covered by the same material. Only my eyes are open to the outside world, one pair of petrified green eyes that can’t talk or scream; they can only gaze out towards the normality that surrounds them. Someone has dressed me in a burqa. I am horrified. It isn’t right to use religion in this way. No one can see that I am held captive under these garments. Amidst the bustling activity, I am completely incognito. I’m too low for people to discover the terror in my eyes and, anyway, they’re too focused on their own business to notice. We glide through a security gate with barely a glance from the bored-looking female guard. I silently cry out to her as we pass, pleading with her to look directly into my eyes so she can detect something is fundamentally wrong. Efficiency and effectiveness triumphs over potential security delays as I am guided to the disabled access with a curt nod from a face lacking a smile. I try to struggle but can barely move as we continue our uninterrupted journey towards the platform and the awaiting train. I hear broadcasts in English and French announcing imminent departures. Oh god, they’re taking me out of the country. Jeremy’s tortured face flashes through my mind and a wave of nausea threatens to overcome me. I tell myself sternly that I will not be vomiting and, after a moment of psychological determination, I win the battle over my tumultuous stomach. Reality slices through me like a machete. This is no game. This is exactly what Jeremy was afraid of during our last discussion on the beach at Avalon — his greatest fear realised. I have been abducted amidst of millions of people in London and it has been as easy as picking me up from the airport and wheeling me onto the Eurostar. No eyebrows raised, no questions asked. Simple and effective. I am manoeuvred on the train and into a cabin. The person wheeling the chair leans over me, opens the front of my robes via a Velcro seam, unfastens the seat belt around my waist and frees my legs and wrists from their binds. Arms heave me up from my seated position and deposit me into a lounge-style chair. Before I can get a proper look at my captor, the person leaves the cabin, taking the wheelchair and closing the door behind them. I am left sitting alone in the small, neat cabin, although, thankfully, in my own clothes. My chair is next to a foldout table near the window with a tray of food and some bottled water. In the corner is a small cubicle with a toilet and basin. I immediately check the window but already know in my mind that the blind will be locked closed. I can’t see out and certainly no one can see in. I automatically check the door, which of course is locked. I feel more alert now and I bang against it in raging frustration. I sense we are pulling out of the station as I lurch a little on my already unstable legs. I can’t prevent the icy fear within my core. An uncontrollable trembling starts in the tips of my fingers before the feeling overcomes my entire shaking body and I collapse haphazardly back into the chair wondering what the hell is going to happen next. My hand subconsciously grasps my bracelet, my fingers seeking the reassurance of the pink diamond chips and the Gaelic inscription against its otherwise smooth surface. Anam Cara — soul companion. I offer a silent prayer to Jeremy, to the universe. Please, please let this bracelet work the way you said it would. Please be able to find me. I don’t know where I’m being taken or what they want with me, you never explained that in detail. Please let me be strong enough to survive whatever happens until we are together again. I need you so much. I can only hope that he is true to his word and that he can track my whereabouts 24/7 anywhere in the world via this encoded piece of jewellery. If he can’t, how on earth will I be found? As my grip tightens around my only link to him, I try to subdue my rising panic by breathing deeply and reflecting back on our last night together at Avalon, where our lovemaking took on a whole new dimension that had never existed before, as if our paths were now spiritually connected somehow and the universe was conspiring for our togetherness. Well, it felt like it was for me at least … My fingertips fondle the bracelet as the tender memory attempts to calms my nerves. * * * After everything I have been through since meeting Jeremy at the Intercontinental Hotel, I know I have never felt more alive or sexually charged in my life. I can sense an iridescent spark within my soul that he has ignited and now will never be extinguished. It’s as if my life’s purpose is to ensure its continuous, growing flame. I feel like I need to become one with Jeremy like never before, take him to a place with me that’s beyond sex and almost beyond our love for each other, after everything he has initiated within me. No more experiments, swabs, blood tests, toys or restraints. No more recording of my hormone levels. I need to bond with him naturally, passionately — as two sexual beings connecting as one. There is now an intense force driving my sexuality as if it is has taken on another persona within my body. It’s impossible for me to deny and it propels me to take the lead with a man who doesn’t like to be led. I silently take Jeremy’s hand, intuitively knowing words will diffuse the energy of the moment, and guide him purposefully over to the bed. There is something about the circular nature of this treehouse that gives me the courage to embrace the deep passion dwelling inside me and continue on my quest. He allows me to remove his robe with a raised eyebrow, no doubt wondering where I’m going with this and his fingers twitch by his side as he makes a deliberate attempt to remain still. The powerful force within propels me to take control here, so I deliberately remove my robe as well, leaving them pooled together on the polished floor. He visibly relaxes and his eyes glaze over as he soaks in the sight of my body. I can feel the heat rising between us. He awaits my next move and I know exactly where I want him. He allows me to position him spread-eagled in the centre of the giant round bed and he looks magnificent. I greedily absorb the vision, his presence and majesty almost disabling me. I take a few breaths to compose myself. I lightly kiss the softness of his lips as I carefully straddle his naked body, wanting my touch to be deliberate, not accidental. I gently raise my index finger to his mouth, cautioning him to silence. The look in his eyes acknowledges that he will concede his power, enabling me to take control when I know this is so difficult for him. He allows me to play with and stroke his firm, glorious body as he lays still, my perfect Vitruvian Man, surrounded by the white and gold sheets, surrendering his body beneath me. My heart swells with love for him; he is doing this for me, without moving, without touching me. Allowing me to twist and turn over his body, kissing, touching, sucking, at my own pace, in my own time, backwards and forwards, above and below. I love that he is the one and only person I have ever connected with in this way and I am finally able to experience what he has been able to elicit from me for so many years, time and time again. I’m in awe of the sexual power emanating from our bodies and minds, and his willingness to give himself over to me. He tries to stifle his strengthening groans as my sensuous playing and exploring continues unabated and takes on new dimensions. My mounting lust fires my groin. The only movement in his body besides involuntary shivers is the growing magnificence of his phallus — eagerly awaiting the eventual attention of my hands, lips and mouth. His strength, patience and resolve is otherworldly as I lower my mouth over what’s mine and his groan can no longer be withheld. I take my time, wanting him to build slowly, and allow my tongue to lick and play only gradually strengthening momentum. His body tremors beneath mine and I know he is close — as am I. My belly aches for the completeness only he can provide. I manoeuvre my body until he is perfectly positioned beneath me so I can sheath his beautiful cock. I open my legs over his hips to accommodate the fullness of his girth within me. I notice beads of sweat on his forehead, perhaps from his determined stillness, or his burning sexual desire … but his hands refrain from touching my body as if he completely understands why I need this, why we need this. He doesn’t prevent me from establishing my own harmonious rhythm. I’m rapturous with the feeling of him surrendering himself to me, his strength penetrates my entire being. I love this feeling, the control he is conceding to me. It’s as if he is sharing his power, his manhood, his fountain of life deep within my very core and I can feel every thick inch of him deep within me. Our eyes meet as I continue my grinding rhythm against him. We are both so very close as he raises his head slightly, questions me silently, beseechingly. I can’t deny him a second longer, this man I love, asking for permission. I throw my head back as I anchor myself around his girth and grip tight around him. He immediately explodes with a fullness that is intoxicating. I collapse on top of him in a magical, spiralling state of complete euphoria. The slow burn, now liquid lava, intensifying our love and connection to each other as we hungrily find each other’s mouths and tongues, speaking in a passionate, silent, universal language of unadulterated sexuality, until eventually we lay still together, completely sated both physically and emotionally. ‘Thank you for doing that for me, I know it’s not easy for you.’ I smile lazily at him. ‘Thank you for the opportunity. I’ve never allowed myself to experience anything like that before.’ ‘Relinquishing control?’ ‘Mmm, letting you dominate. You know it’s not my preference but it was undeniably amazing.’ ‘So why did you?’ A pause. ‘I did it because it was important for you and I will never deny you any sexual experience that you want or need. You know I’m all for you exploring and discovering every aspect of your sexual nature, even more so when it’s between us. And this seems to be a pretty important milestone for you, particularly after everything you’ve been through in the last few days.’ He looks at me quizzically. ‘Am I right?’ ‘Yeah, you are,’ I admit. ‘It was as if there was a force inside me compelling me to take control. I’ve never had such a strong sexual urge before, so I just went with it.’ ‘I can’t tell you how much it pleases me to finally hear you acknowledge that sexuality is a major part of who you are, Alexa. It just seems to have been buried and forgotten in recent years,’ he adds with a chuckle. ‘Thanks to you, Dr Quinn, I’m beginning to doubt whether I knew myself at all before this weekend.’ Jeremy snuggles me to him. ‘How are you feeling?’ ‘A little light-headed but I feel so full, so content, safe and complete …’ ‘My life is only just beginning to feel complete now that I know we are together,’ he murmurs. Oh, and how wonderful does that make me feel … Our limbs are entwined as he spoons me closer to his chest. ‘I love you, Jeremy.’ ‘And I you, Alexandra, more than I think you’ll ever understand.’ They are the last words spoken as I drift off into a beautiful sleep in Jeremy’s warm embrace. I find myself in tears at the memory and in fear of the situation I’m in right now. My distress reaches hysterical proportions at the thought of what could happen to me, at my disconnectedness from Jeremy and my children. I’m a scared, emotional mess and I lash out at the tray of food that my stomach can’t remotely contemplate, sending it flying into the wall. This is truly a nightmare! What do they want from me? I rise unsteadily from my chair and get a sense of the speed of the train as I step into the tiny bathroom and splash my face with cold water. I would give anything to collapse into a bed and wake up in Jeremy’s arms knowing this was all a bad dream. After attempting to freshen up I make another futile attempt to force the door open, and then the window, but eventually I am left with no alternative but to sit in the secluded silence of this cabin cell with my own frightening thoughts of what might happen next. The train eventually slows and I wonder if I will have to endure the humiliation of being tethered to the wheelchair again. I vaguely remember hearing about the burqa being banned in public spaces in France; I wasn’t sure whether this was the case in surrounding European countries. The door opens, startling me, as terror returns to shake my body to the core. God help me. Two large men enter the cabin, seeming to fill the space, not making any eye contact with me. A quivering mess, I can only remain seated in my chair, as one of them walks towards me. I can’t utter a word — I can barely look at him. He motions for me to stand. He doesn’t realise I’m frozen with fear and can’t follow his command. I’m hoisted roughly into a standing position and he hastily cuffs my wrists together. Oh, dear god. Some kind of gas mask is securely placed over my nose and mouth and I attempt to hold my breath, not wanting to lose consciousness again. Realising this logic is futile, I am left with no choice but to inhale, allowing myself short, shallow breaths, not sure what substance is infiltrating my lungs. The first man holds me still as the other attaches a container to my back, which looks like a bit like a fire extinguisher or small oxygen tank. It is carefully secured with straps around my waist and under my arms — my own self-sufficient breathing apparatus. My legs are efficiently taped together at both my ankles and knees and I feel myself becoming a little groggy. A warm softness enters my limbs and I go slightly limp against the man holding me upright. This warmth is actually pretty good and I feel myself relaxing. I remember this feeling from the dentist. Happy gas, nitrous oxide — it dulls sensations such as pain and makes you feel euphoric. One of the men leaves the cabin briefly and returns wheeling a larger-than-average suitcase. As if on cue I get the giggles as my mind wanders and I randomly wonder whether it would be used to cart around outfits for Paris fashion week — that is, until he opens it and I am scooped off my feet and literally folded into the awaiting piece of luggage. It’s lined with some kind of foam padding. I am aware, in a detached way, that this is not good, but as I don’t actually feel too bad, it’s difficult to decipher any of my emotions about the whole situation. I attempt to dislodge the gas mask attached to my face, pushing against the foam material, so I can think more clearly but to no avail. I am tucked into a foetal position. I attempt to scream and struggle, sensing that I should, but don’t have a strong desire to muster the energy required. My body feels warm and rather heavy, but surprisingly comfortable given the position I’m in. Either way, I can’t move and the mask stifles any sound before it can escape. I can’t believe I’m small enough to fit in a suitcase; they’d never be able to do this to Jeremy, it would have to be tailor-made! The lid is closed, making my world once again black and if I weren’t so relaxed, I’m sure I’d be shaking violently with fear. I hear the sound of a zip closing and the suitcase is positioned upright. I’m silently thankful for the generous padding that softens my impending ride; I shudder at the thought of the bruises otherwise. The wheels are in motion and I have no idea where I’ll end up. I can’t see, I can’t hear, I can’t talk or taste or smell. What I can feel is an immobile body that is awash with relaxant. All I can do is just keep breathing. Jeremy I linger at the bar, aimlessly shuffling food around on my plate, ignoring everything else going on around me; my thoughts about Alex are all-consuming and endlessly disturbing. Apart from the terrifying thought that she might be hurt, I can’t stop thinking about missed opportunities, my inability to come to terms with my own feelings for her — and now, shit, I may never have the opportunity to make amends. I can’t even say whether Alexandra was ever aware of the complexity of emotion I feel for her, have always felt for her. It took me a while to admit it to myself and, once I had, I didn’t want to scare her away so I deliberately kept things light and playful between us. Ultimately, I wanted to give her the world and be the focal point of hers. But I was too driven back then, knew the path of my future differed from hers. My younger brother suffered from serious depression, and just before my twenty-fifth birthday I found him dead in our garage. He’d gassed himself in our father’s car, which he’d locked from the inside. My world perspective changed from that moment on, my ambition fuelled by pain and the inability to provide him with the help he had so desperately needed. My parents, bless them, handled the devastating loss of their second son more graciously than me … at least, I thought so. My grief was so raw, so incredibly confronting and completely overwhelming. I blamed myself. If only I knew more, had studied more, had understood him, spent more time with him … if only the medication he was taking had helped him deal with life more effectively, rather than take it from him. I found it impossible to reconcile the loss of Michael’s life in my mind. There was so much I needed to sort out in my head, to understand. Why my brother, why not me? Why did this happen to our family? Was it part of our gene pool or something unique to him? God knows, my family and friends tried to support me but I wasn’t ready for their help. I didn’t want their pity or anyone else’s, so I pushed them away, including Alexa, to work it out for myself. I had to get away from the pulse and stress of the city and find some perspective. I had an overwhelming urge to bury my pain, needed to be hands-on rather than lumbered with textbooks, theories and lectures. I needed to prove I was alive, unlike Michael, whose life was lost at the vital age of twenty. The flying doctor’s and the outback provided me with space, sanctuary and distance from everyone and everything I had known. Thankfully, they were in desperate need of medical staff and accepted my application as soon as I secured my pilot’s licence, as I could provide both medical and flying roles for them. An extra set of strong male hands never went astray when working in the harshness of our great southern land either. Everything seemed to fall into place when I met Leo. He too, had lost a cousin to suicide and we spent many hours discussing our theories as to why and how such acute depression happens to some and not others, never being able to decide on whether the contributing factors were psychological, chemical or environmental or how they connected. He provided me with the mentorship I needed to get my life back on track. I needed that then, just as desperately as I need Alex now. Back then I had to let her go so we could pursue our futures independently. I wasn’t ready to give her the family she longed for and I couldn’t be diverted from my mission to find a cure for depression. I had to prevent other families going through the pain and anguish we had to deal with when we lost Michael. But now I know she is my connection to the earth; my love for her is so great I will not allow her to slip through my fingers again. She is the oxygen that fuels my life. I remember the conversation we had in Santorini that secured our separation for the next decade. It began as an inspired discussion on our paths in life and ended at a fork in the road, like the tongue of a serpent and stung just as badly. For me, anyhow … * * * ‘I’m ready for something more meaningful, Jeremy. I’m just not getting the buzz out of work that I used to. It’s becoming routine, monotonous. The business world is all about the money and I need to know I’m helping people, not just making money for money’s sake. Besides, I’m not as driven as you and I know I need more than work in my life to satisfy me …’ ‘So what are you going to do about it?’ We are basking in the sun on a warm rock by the warm waters of the Aegean Sea and I’m doing my duty, rubbing sunscreen on Alexa’s back. It’s a tough life! ‘I’m thinking of going back to psychology full-time.’ ‘Wow. That’s a big move. Are you ready for it?’ ‘Yeah, I am. But it’s more than that. I think I’m ready to settle down.’ I keep up the sensuous strokes along her smooth back. ‘Settle down. What do you mean?’ A small wave of apprehension shudders through me. Settle down, shit … not my Alexa! ‘You know, start a family, maybe return to Australia. I don’t want to raise a family in central London.’ ‘You’re serious?’ I inadvertently splat more sunscreen than necessary on her shoulders and quickly start rubbing it in to distract from my shock at her words. ‘Of course I’m serious, Jeremy. Why wouldn’t I be? My maternal clock’s ticking, and I’m over the club scene and the frantic pace of London.’ ‘But you’re not even close to thirty, you have heaps of time.’ God, I need to come up with something, she’s slipping away from me, from beneath my very fingers. I know I’m not ready for a family or to ‘settle down’. I’ve just started to make headway in my career. My research at Harvard is only serving to make me more certain I am on the right path. I’ve never been closer to a significant breakthrough in managing chemical imbalances in the brain. After all these years, I know I’m finally on the right path, on the cusp of finally doing something real and tangible to help prevent families going through the pain and hell we went through with Michael. I can’t stop now and I can’t split my focus between work and a family. My hours of study, my research, it would be a disaster. And there is no way Alexa would tolerate a partner who isn’t around for their kids, there’s just no way. ‘I know,’ she replies calmly, while my mind reels, ‘but it’s only just around the corner and you never know how long these things can take. One of my friends who just turned thirty has been trying for two years without success. I don’t know how I’d survive if that happened to me. I can’t ignore it much longer, Jeremy. Every baby I pass in the street is … well, it’s as if my heart spasms and contracts. The yearning to nurture my own biological child is like nothing I’ve felt. Each time I see a pregnant belly I smile at the mother and then tears well up in my eyes. And I can’t deny it, the feeling gets stronger each day. It’s as if everything else has faded into insignificance for me.’ I drag my brain back from morbid thoughts on how depression can devastate the happiest of families to concentrate fully on Alexa’s words. My lover … my best friend … clock ticking … Jeez, does she expect me to be the father? What if she’s already pregnant? Bloody hell. I’m so not ready for this. She sits up from her lying position and looks directly into my eyes, as if sensing my fear, my rising anxiety as to where this discussion is leading. ‘It’s okay, Jeremy.’ She laughs her delightful laugh. ‘You don’t need to look so scared! I know your career is everything to you, it always has been — and it’s not like we have ever had a monogamous relationship. We just have incredibly great sex when we’re together. You’ve made your views on marriage very clear over the years.’ ‘Oh, yeah, sure, I suppose I have.’ She looks at me with a gorgeous twinkle in her eye and her dimple appears next to her smile. I breathe a sigh of relief and relax but surely she must know she means more to me than incredibly great sex … doesn’t she? And as for my anti-marriage views … well, we’ve been on opposite sides of the world for the past few years and I haven’t had the chance to explain to her that such views only ever pertained to every other woman in the world until I was ready for her. ‘I’ve met someone.’ Fuck. That’s a bombshell. My thoughts come to an abrupt halt. My heart pounds deeply within my chest at her words. ‘And it’s getting serious, I think.’ My breathing temporarily stops before I realise she is waiting for me to respond. ‘Really, what’s his name?’ I have to pretend I’m coughing as I choke out the words. ‘Robert. He’s English but seems quite keen on moving to Australia with me and he just loves kids. I met him a few months ago at a friend’s christening and ….’ I see her lips forming words but I don’t hear her voice thanks to the loud thrumming in my ears and the pumping pain in my chest. This is it. I’m losing my Alexa. Doesn’t she realise she is mine, has been since we first met? Now she wants to settle down, have babies, move back to Australia. All three things are impossible for me at this juncture of my life. I love her, surely she must know that. If she doesn’t, how can I possibly tell her now? She looks so happy and animated talking about ‘Robert’ and their potential new life together. Fuck! How did this conversation end up like this? I shake my head as her voice cuts through my daze. ‘Anyway, I just wanted to let you know, because if Robert and I move in together, like we’re planning, you know, as a couple, well, I won’t be able to have any more weekends away with you, like this. It just … wouldn’t be right, would it?’ She looks up at me, both resignation and longing in her puppy dog eyes. This is it. My playful, experimental Alexa is closing herself off from me because I can’t give her what she wants at this point in time. And she’s right. I can’t — or won’t. I don’t know which it is, but it’s too soon, we’re still too young. And besides, it really sounds like she loves him so how can I, in all fairness, deny her this happiness just because I’m not ready to commit? Shit, I feel sick to the pit of my gut. Too much for me to dwell on right now. I force my voice to sound calm. ‘No, sweetheart, it wouldn’t. I’m pleased you’re happy and thanks for letting me know. But know this, if he hurts you, upsets you, lays a finger on you that you’re not happy with, or doesn’t treat you like the goddess you are, he’ll have me to contend with and you know what I’m like.’ She smiles her gorgeous smile and I can’t help but try to grin back. ‘Very theatrical Jeremy but yeah, I do know what you’re like.’ She gives me a fun, playful, loving thump on my upper arm. ‘Always my protector.’ ‘I will always be there for you, Alexandra. It’s very important to me that you know that.’ I seem to be drowning in solemnity which I’m sure must be freaking her out, particularly if she loves him and not me. I must try to get my head around supporting the choice she’s making and I need to lighten things up — urgently. ‘In the meantime, he doesn’t have you this weekend, I do, so if this is our last weekend together before you “settle down”’ — I can’t keep the bitter undertone from catching in my voice — ‘then rest assured, we will be making the most of it.’ I can’t bear to look at her face as I experience the unusual sensation of hot tears pooling in the corners my eyes so I pick her up instead and she squeals as I carry her to the edge of the rock shelf and leisurely throw her into the warm, aquamarine water. I wait till she rises to the surface, then promptly jump in to retrieve what’s mine, at least for now. I desperately need the diversion of the water against my skin, which helps to wash away my turbulent emotions and lighten my heavy heart. I will not let her slip through my fingers again! I slam my fist hard on the wooden bench of the bar, my skin burning with determination. ‘Jeremy, are you okay?’ ‘Oh, Sam, I didn’t see you come in.’ His usually jovial face is lined with worry and concern. I quickly wipe any sign of moisture away from the corner of my eye; he shouldn’t have to see me like this. Fuck it, we shouldn’t be in this situation at all. ‘Yeah, I’ve been a million miles away. Any update?’ I raise my hand to the barman to indicate we need service and order more whisky which momentarily takes the edge off my pain but it will be the last one. I can’t afford to be playing anything but my A game when it comes to Alexa. ‘Actually, I do have some news. The signal from Alexandra’s bracelet has been traced to St Pancras station, they believe she boarded a train to Paris. The tracking device on the bracelet is not as effective on high-speed trains but we have been able to correlate the timing of the train departures and the bracelet and we are ninety per cent sure. Unless —’ ‘What?’ I say harshly, frustrated by his seemingly longwinded explanation. ‘Unless what, Samuel?’ Shit, I really do need to control my temper. ‘Well, they could have tampered with the bracelet to throw us off the trail. Do you think they could know about it?’ Samuel asked. ‘There was nothing about the security of the bracelet on my system at work, that was kept in another department. What about yours?’ ‘Same. So we should be all right for a while, or at least until they try to remove it — and realise they can’t.’ ‘Well, we need to get going. If they think she’s in Paris then that’s where I’m heading.’ Finally, something to focus on rather than drowning in sorrow. I start to rise but Sam puts his hand on my arm to stop me. ‘That was a few hours ago, Jeremy. She could be anywhere in continental Europe by now. I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of speaking to Martin directly, knowing how upset you —’ The look on my face stops him in his tracks and I take a deep breath to calm my anger. Control it, Quinn. ‘Sorry, Sam, of course, yes, please continue.’ He visibly relaxes, I must look scary. Sam is not easily unnerved. ‘Anyway, we detected the signal at Gare du Nord for a short time and lost it again. The security guys are assuming she must be on another train travelling southeast from Paris towards the Swiss border but we won’t be 100% sure until she is stationary. We should have an exact location in the morning. Martin is hoping to finalise the team in the next twenty-four hours.’ ‘What?’ I am shouting. ‘We can’t wait that long, Sam, they’ve fucking abducted Alex!’ ‘These things take a while, Jeremy, and they don’t want to get the authorities involved just yet …’ Sam’s tone is placatory but I don’t want to hear it. Why the hell haven’t Martin and Moira been calling me and instead talking to Sam? I grab my phone out of my jacket pocket and see that I’ve had five missed calls and that it’s been on silent. Shit! How the hell did that happen? I slam it down on the bench top in complete frustration; absolutely nothing is going my way. I shake his hand off and stand up. ‘You have to be kidding me?’ Blood pounds through my head. Samuel’s calmness inflames my anger and I’m teetering on the edge of civility. I pick up the phone again, my fingers fumbling in my attempt to make the call to sort this mess out. Sam interjects quickly. ‘Apparently, they’re trying to avoid any red tape if we are forced to act quickly, if you know what I mean.’ He looks flustered at these words and adds hastily: ‘Anyway, we’ll take the first flight to Paris in the morning, and hopefully have a more comprehensive picture of where she has been taken.’ I reluctantly consider his words and try to temper my fury. ‘Oh, right, I see where you’re coming from. Yes, if we need to act quickly, we don’t want to be asking permission from anyone, for anything.’ I take the last swig of my whisky in an attempt to take the edge off my nerves and my fear for AB’s wellbeing. If only she were in the safety of my arms right now. A burst of rage fires in my belly that is so strong, I feel like I could kill the bastards who have taken her captive. Not an appropriate emotion for a medical professional but I don’t give a fuck at this point. ‘I need to be on the first flight out, Sam, as soon as we have a location. Let Martin know.’ I need some fresh air quickly, I’m feeling so claustrophobic. ‘Will do.’ I’m becoming a rude arrogant bastard and it’s not fair to take it out on Sam when he’s doing everything to help. I take a deep breath and make a determined effort to control my threatening emotions. I soften my voice and place my hand on his shoulder. ‘Thanks, Sam. I appreciate it. It’s just killing me, not knowing if she’s okay. I need to get her back.’ ‘I know, Jeremy, and we will.’ Part Three While the doctor is reflecting, the patient dies. — Italian proverb Alexa After scrubbing my skin to remove the filth, jetlag and tears, I allow the steaming water to cascade over my tired and exhausted muscles, my emotions numb. My heart feels frozen. I don’t know how long I have been under this scorching rain of water and I don’t care. My brain seems incapable of making even the simplest of decisions. It isn’t until I realise I am in a crumpled heap on the floor of the shower and the water temperature is cooling over my limbs that I shudder and consider getting out. To what? I wonder. Where am I? Who has done this to me? Who could do this to me? There are no tears left to shed. I have more than used my quota. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/indigo-bloome/destined-to-feel/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.