Beneath the Stars (Falling Stars 4)

But there was just something in the air that wouldn’t let me settle.

As if everything I’d once thought paranoia, what I’d tried to quell and outrun, had manifested as real.

I grabbed my phone and tiptoed out of his room and into the bathroom so I could see who was trying to get ahold of me.

I craned my ear to the sleeping house. My phone told me it was just after midnight, and Rhys and I had been asleep for more than four hours.

I skimmed my thumb over the faceplate and entered my code, frowning when I saw the texts from the unknown number.

I squinted as I stared at the first. It was a picture from last night that had been in the tabloid.

The one where I’d been on Rhys’ lap in the back of the car.

An intimate moment that had been stolen for gain.

But this?

I could feel the intent.

Something sinister and cruel as the image stared back at me, lit up like an omen in the darkness.

Unease churned in my stomach.

Fingers starting to shake, I scrolled to whatever words had been texted below it.

Did you know you’re sleeping with the devil?

Sickness surged. Anxiety and apprehension.

Even though part of me wanted to shut down my phone, bury whatever maliciousness this person wanted to convey, I warily began to scan through the pictures that had been sent to my number, unable to stop myself from taking in the scene.

One I’d known full well existed.

The pictures were of Rhys from throughout the years, and he wasn’t alone in any of them. He was with woman after woman, each of them wearing one of his shirts.

That sickness coiled in gripping pain as I stared at the images.

Not in jealousy, but in the knowledge that this man was harboring something so deep. Something no one else had taken the time to recognize.

In almost every one, the man sported that sexy grin that held the power to bring an entire nation to its knees, an arm slung casually over the women’s shoulders or wrapped around their waists, but I knew him well enough to see the vacancy that glazed over his eyes.

The detachment.

Another text blipped through.

Did you fall for it? Like they all do?

Anger slammed me, this protectiveness that rose and grew fierce. I shouldn’t even respond, but I couldn’t help but want to stick up for him. I typed out a response and hit send.

Obviously, you have no idea who he is.

Then, I hesitated, my thumbs hovering over the plate, my tongue swiping over my dried lips before I started to frantically type again. Not sure I should be asking for the answer but unable to stop myself from doing it, anyway.

Who is this?

I swore, I could almost hear the malignant laughter in the air. Whipping and stirring our world into disorder. I could feel it…sense it…this person had intimate knowledge of whatever stole the joy from Rhys’ brilliant blue eyes.

It doesn’t matter who I am, now does it, but rather who your boyfriend is? What would the world think of him if they found out who he really is? What he’s done? What would you think of him?

Nausea caught fire, rolling up and down my throat. I fought to swallow it down. To keep from losing it. Because the truth was, I didn’t know what he’d done. What had happened or what he’d gone through. What ghosts stalked the man in the night. I only knew whatever it was caused him horrible grief.

When another text blipped through, there was no stopping the bile that climbed my throat and sent dizziness bounding through my brain.

It was a picture of Rhys with another woman. Only in this one, Rhys was on his knees at her feet. One side of her face and neck were completely covered in scars from a burn.

And it was guilt that marred Rhys’ face.

Around them, I could almost see the remnants of a raging fire that had long since been extinguished but still charred their lives. But it was the words that came in behind them that had me on my knees.

Look what he did to his wife.

Rhys’ torment came at me full force. The burden of what he wore. The devastation in his eyes.

His wife. His wife. His wife.

Memories of his confession banged through my mind.

“Someone’s after you?”

Surrender shook his head. “No, Sweet Thing. Not after me. They already have me.”

He’d tried to push me away. He’d warned me his heart wasn’t fully his to give.

But I knew Rhys. Knew him deeply even without having an idea of the details. He would never turn his back on her. Would never step out. There was more to this. So much I didn’t know, but I knew enough.

Knew enough to read between the lines.

Whoever this asshole was…he’d been blackmailing Rhys. Manipulating him. Holding him under his thumb.