Secrets

Chapter Thirty One

Anya

I hear him before I see him. His footsteps, which are so familiar to me, are approaching fast, but it's when he calls my name that my knees buckle from under me and I give up the ability to run anymore.

I'm on my knees, ironically, as I look up at him, only meters away, but instead of looking down at me, or shouting, screaming or any of the actions I expected, he throws himself to his knees in front of me and wraps his arms around me, cradling me to his chest.

The second his warmth surrounds me I forget why I ran. I struggle to remember why I left him and stayed away for so long. 

Instead, for the longest time I let him hold me. I remember the way his chest falls up and down, fighting his ragged breaths. I basque in the feeling of his muscles tightening around me, almost afraid to let me go. I commit to memory the feeling of his breath on the side of my neck and I breathe deeply, inhaling his gorgeous smell while I can.

I don't know how long we knelt there together, and it wasn't until he moved away slightly that I realised the discomfort in my knees. Fear brings my breath in short pants as I bring my eyes up to his. I deserve his hate. His resentment and his anger. But I don't get it. 

As he brings his lips down to mine I freeze and, although every part of me wants so badly to meet him halfway and never let him go, I lean away from him.

"I'm sorry." His voice shocks me, speaking the words I so need to say. "I'm so sorry, Anya."

His voice is broken and I'm confused. How did this happen? How is the beautiful god like man knelt before me, holding me and apologising, for who only knows what? 

"You should be angry." I say. The look in his eyes tells me everything I need to know. He didn't set this up. He's hurting - my actions have caused the only person I've ever been in love with pain.

Guilt doesn't begin to describe how I feel. I despise myself for bringing this upon him. For causing him any amount of hurt. Who am I to do that to him? 

"Why would I be angry?" At this moment I have to ask myself if God created this perfect man just for me. To forgive me my indiscretions and faults and to love me wholeheartedly and protect me. Is that even possible?

"For lying to you. For leaving you. For not calling you." His hands find my face and mine find his chest.

"Anya," he pulls my attention to his eyes although I don't miss the feeling of his muscles under my fingers, "I...."

"Blake!" Ian interrupts whatever Devan was about to say and I've never wanted to kick someone more. How frustrating.

I look up to see Ian, Holly and Tori looking at me intently.

"I knew I'd met you before!" Tori explains, the pieces all fitting together in her head. 

Devan pulls me up slowly off the hard marble floor of the hotel lobby, which, luckily for us, is empty.

"You're here." Ian says, disbelievingly. "How? Why?"

I look over his shoulder at Jason, who smiles encouragingly from behind them.

"Because I can't run anymore." I answer simply, and Devan's hands tighten on my waist, encouraging me to lean back into him.

"But you two knew, didn't you?" I question Ian and Jason and Jason puts his hands up to defend himself.

"Only after you left. I didn't say anything in Italy because..."

"ITALY?" Ian shouts and I flinch.