Midnight's Kiss(77)

“It’s a hell of a thing to know, isn’t it?” she said. “That somebody loves you enough to forgive you for anything. I have to tell you, soldier — right now it’s a good thing I love you enough to forgive you anything too. So, yay for us, right?”

The same complexity that made her expression unreadable layered her voice. He muttered, “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either, but maybe we can finally get to the bottom of this.” She hugged him, then pushed out of his arms and rose to her feet. He stood with her. “Something — or someone — has such a hold over you that you can’t hear me when I say I didn’t cheat.” She faced him, hands on her hips. “I want to know who did this to us, and why. Tell me what happened.”

He considered her with a frown. She clearly wasn’t hurling accusations, or trying to start a fight. She looked like she was ready to go into battle, but while her words were determined her voice remained calm.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he turned away. “I don’t know who did it. The why seems pretty obvious — a lot of people weren’t happy that you and I were seeing each other. One day I received a packet of photographs.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “They were of you having sex with Ferion.”

She looked like he had slapped her. “Somebody sent you photographs of me and Ferion? Ferion, the new Elven Lord?”

He lifted a hand and let it fall, looking away.

She strode around to stand in front of him, planting her hands on her hips. “The photos were a lie. I have never been, nor have I ever wanted to be, with Ferion.”

She looked so furious and determined.

And every word she said felt like the Gospel truth.

It threw him into chaos. Once he had thought she wouldn’t tell him the truth. Then he thought she couldn’t, but this was something else entirely. At this point, she had no stake in maintaining any lie, and his gut kept insisting that he believe her.

But…

“I couldn’t accept what I was looking at, so I had the photos examined.” He rubbed his face and looked at her over his hand. “Melly, the images weren’t manipulated. They were real.”

He tried to say it in as neutral a tone as possible, but her eyes dilated in quick reaction. She hissed, “No, they weren’t.”

As he stared at her, the feeling in his gut worsened. Of all the ways he might have imagined this conversation going, this wasn’t it.

“Once I verified the photos hadn’t been doctored, I had to know when and how it could have happened. Remember when you were on location for that movie in Singapore? You told me you were too busy to take a break.” He paused. He had to. Her distress was so palpable, he found himself reluctant to add to it. He added more softly, “But after a little research, I discovered you had gone to New York.”

Her mouth tightened as her gaze turned inward and searching, looking back in time.

She said abruptly, “Yes, that’s right. I did go for a quick visit. It was the only break I took, which is why I told you I didn’t have any time. Bailey bought tickets to a Broadway show that she knew I’d been wanting to see. She insisted, and I felt like I couldn’t say no. I’d been spending all my free time with you and I hadn’t seen her in ages, so I got on a plane, flew in, saw the show with her and left again.” Her voice shook. “What did you do with the photos?”

“I burned them,” he said between his teeth. “Then I ground the ashes to dust. And I tried my damnedest to hunt down the motherfucker who had sent them to me, so I could break his face and fingers. Because clearly somebody was trying to start some shit — so I was going to give them shit.”

Her eyes widened. “Did you find who sent them?”

“No. But I broke my fist on Ferion’s face the next time I saw him, so there’s that.” He needed a minute, so he strode into his walk-in closet to pull on a pair of faded jeans.

When he walked back out, Melly was sitting in the armchair again, her arms wrapped around her middle. She looked shaken and a little ill. Quickly, he crossed the room to her. “What is it?”

She shook her head. Just when he thought she wasn’t going to respond any more than that, she whispered, “The photos were real?”

As he gazed down at her, the bad feeling in his gut solidified into certainty. Before, he had followed the evidence until it had broken him down. Now, despite all the evidence to the contrary, he knew she was telling the truth.

He didn’t know how any of it had happened, but he knew one thing.

She had always been telling the truth.