The Bond (Unbroken Raine Falling 4)

He scoffed. “I’ve never not found her attractive. Ever.”

“Then tell me what’s on your bloody mind.”

“Nothing.” Hammer didn’t meet his gaze.

“Stop lying to me.”

Macen stood. “I’m done here.”

“Not unless you’re done with the three of us.”

“Don’t threaten me. Me stepping back is best for Raine. You’re better at helping her through emotional upheaval. I suck at touchy-feely shit.”

“No, you suck at dealing with your problems. Snap out of it and stop beating yourself up for not saving her.”

Hammer halted, glared.

Ah, so now they were getting to the problem.

“I can’t, all right?” Hammer shook his head, anguish all over his face. “Raine and our baby nearly died. That fact eats at me every fucking day, spools through my brain every fucking night. I can’t wipe all that blood out of my head.”

“But she’s all right. Be strong for her.” Liam urged him back into his chair. “She needs us both.”

“I’m worried she pictures Bill when I touch her. And trust me, her hormones are nothing next to every dirty, Dominant thing I ache to do to her. But some nights, I come home and look at her, and I can’t stay the fuck away for another minute, so I use her hard. I don’t mean to. I want her so bad and she doesn’t say no and…I lose my head for a minute. Then I feel so shitty afterward. Guilty. Jesus…” He sighed. “So yeah, I’m all over her about rest and vitamins and crap so that I can tell myself I’m doing the right thing by her. That sounds fucked up. Obviously, you’re dealing with this much better, as always. Happy?”

“I’m happy you’re finally talking to me.”

Hammer’s mental anguish didn’t surprise Liam but it concerned him. Worse, now that he had Macen talking, he needed to forge ahead, make him purge all the pain. Liam knew he’d start another war with his next words, but the man would never heal if he didn’t resolve the issues that haunted him most.

“I know your avoidance isn’t merely about Raine. So let’s cut to the heart of it. When will you forgive yourself for Juliet’s death? Or does your shit go back even further than that?”

Macen leapt to his feet and leveled Liam with a murderous glare. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

The minister stood before the group of mourners, speaking words Macen never wanted to hear again. His throat constricted. Déjà vu tightened around his neck like a barbed-wire tie.

Before him, the lid of a bronze casket lay open, lined in ivory velvet. He’d given Juliet the best in death because he had failed her in life. His wife had been pregnant and distraught and…he hadn’t known until it was too late. He couldn’t look at her now. Hell, he didn’t deserve to.

Beside him, Liam stood, hands clasped in front of him, looking stoic and red-eyed and damn close to falling apart.

Hammer frowned. Liam hadn’t loved Juliet. He hadn’t even been present for her funeral.

What was going on?

Dread churned Hammer’s guts as he leaned in and peeked over the edge of the casket. He didn’t see his blond bride in everlasting repose. Instead, Raine lay there, porcelain, lifeless, her blue eyes forever shuttered.

Stunned, Hammer couldn’t look away. He couldn’t stop staring at her beloved face or the round swell of her pregnant belly. She was gone? When? How? Why?

God, he hadn’t been able to save her.

He turned to Liam, gaping and empty. His friend didn’t seem shocked, just utterly heartbroken. Grief had felled him into silence.

Hammer dove for her, braced his hands beneath her prone body, and lifted, desperate to hold the woman he loved again, hear her laugh, and promise that none of his nightmare was real. Instead, Raine dissolved into fine grains of sand and slipped through his fingers. Agony besieged him. He crumbled to his knees and scrambled to gather her against him. But the wind surged, blowing away every trace of her.

Leaving him with nothing except his eviscerated soul.

Filled with rage and grief, Hammer threw back his head. A cry stuck in his throat. He’d never felt more alone or desolate. But wasn’t he simply getting what he deserved?

With his hand pressed to his chest, Hammer woke with a start. Tense and covered in cold sweat, he dragged in a breath. Terror sludged toxic through his blood. Desolation followed.

Exhausted, Macen slammed his eyes shut. He was losing his mind.

He wouldn’t be able to find it again until he knew Raine was all right.

Hammer cracked one eye open to look around. Instantly, his head protested. He was feeling last night’s Patrón. The muted gray light straining through the curtains gouged his eyeballs.

Now he remembered why he was rarely awake at the ass crack of dawn.

As his vision cleared, he spied Liam sitting on the far edge of the bed, his broad, bare shoulders working. With a few words last night, the damn Irishman had exhumed Juliet. Hammer didn’t need his old friend rubbing his nose in his mistakes. He already couldn’t forget their stench. Thankfully, the hint of cocoa lingering in the air gave him something else to focus on.