All The Pretty Little Lies (Second Sons Duet #1)

22. Zaire

ZAIRE

"Zaire," Vesper starts, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat, trying again. "About what you saw…I mean, Oscar and I, um, well…kissing.”

“It’s fine.” I stroll closer, hands shoved in my pockets, a lazy grin playing on my lips. "Don't look so shocked, Vesper. It's not like this is the first time Oz and I have shared something in our lives. Twins, remember? "

"I don't...I don't understand," she stammers. “You're okay with this?"

I can’t help but laugh. "Sweetheart, in our world, you take pleasure where you can find it. Life's too short and too dangerous to get hung up on conventional morality."

I watch Vesper's cheeks flush, her emerald eyes darting nervously between Oz and me. It's adorable, really, how flustered she is. But beneath that embarrassment, I catch a flicker of something else—desire, maybe even a hint of curiosity.

“But you and me? I almost kissed you.”

“And?” I tease her. "Who says you have to choose between us?”

The salt-tinged breeze ruffles my hair, carrying the rhythmic sound of waves lapping at the shore. This beach, our beach, where I've walked countless times with Vesper, sharing whispered secrets and stolen glances. And now, here she stands, lips still swollen from my brother's kiss.

Oz leans against a nearby palm tree, arms crossed, that insufferable smirk plastered on his face. It's the same look he wore when we were kids, and he'd beat me at chess or try to talk his way out of trouble. That smug smile ignites a fire in my gut, more potent than any jealousy over Vesper's kiss. Because I know my brother. I know how he operates, how he always has to be first, has to win.

But Vesper isn't a game to be won. She's so much more.

I tear my gaze from Oz and focus on Vesper. Her blonde hair whips around her face in the breeze, and I fight the urge to brush it back, to run my fingers through those silky strands. "You don't owe me an explanation, sweetheart," I say softly, noting how she shivers at the endearment. "What happens between consenting adults is nobody's business but their own."

Vesper's brow furrows, confusion evident in her expressive eyes. "But...aren't you angry? Or hurt?" She shifts uncomfortably, and I can see the guilt etched across her features. It's almost endearing, how she thinks she needs to explain herself to me. As if I haven't known from the moment I met her that she'd be tangled up with both of us eventually.

I chuckle, the sound low and husky. "Angry? No. A little envious, perhaps." I lean in close, my lips nearly brushing her ear as I whisper, "But I meant what I said before. I'm a patient man, Vesper. I can wait."

As I pull back, I catch the way her breath hitches, how her pupils dilate ever so slightly. Oh yes, there's definitely more than embarrassment there. I reach out, brushing my fingers along Vesper's arm. She shivers, and I can't help but smirk. "Cold, sweetheart?" I ask, knowing full well it's not the temperature making her tremble considering she's swimming in one of Oscar’s hoodies.

Oscar clears his throat, clearly annoyed at my interruption. Good. Let him stew for a bit. "We should head back," he says, glancing at his watch. "The others will be wondering where we are."

I nod, but my eyes never leave Vesper's face. "You go ahead, Oz. I'll walk Vesper back."

For a moment, I think he might argue, but then he shrugs and starts walking towards the house. As he passes me, he mutters, "Play nice, Z."

I wait until he's out of earshot before turning back to Vesper. She's staring at the ground, her toes digging into the sand. "Hey," I say softly, tilting her chin up with my finger. "You okay?"

She nods, but I can see the conflict in her eyes. "Zaire, I...I don't know what I'm doing."

I chuckle, pulling her close. "Join the club, sweetheart. We're all just making this up as we go along." I press a kiss to her forehead, inhaling the scent of her shampoo mixed with the ocean air. "But I meant what I said. You don't have to choose."

As we walk, I can't help but steal glances at Vesper. Her steps are hesitant like she's walking on eggshells instead of sand. I know her mind must be racing, trying to make sense of everything that's happened. She's so innocent in many ways despite the world she comes from. A virgin, if the whispers at that godforsaken auction were to be believed. The thought of her being sold like property still makes my blood boil.

"You're thinking too hard," I say, nudging her gently with my shoulder. "I can practically hear the gears turning in that pretty head of yours."

She looks up at me, those green eyes wide and vulnerable. "How can you be so calm about all this?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Years of practice, sweetheart. When you grow up in this world, you learn to roll with the punches." I pause, choosing my next words carefully. "But I know it's different for you. You've been sheltered, protected."

Vesper scoffs, a bitter sound that doesn't suit her. "Protected? Is that what you call being groomed for an arranged marriage?"

I wince, regretting my choice of words. "Fair point. I just meant...you haven't had the chance to explore, to figure out what you want."

We've reached a secluded cove, hidden from the view of the main beach. I stop walking, turning to face her. The sun paints her skin in shades of gold and pink, making her look almost ethereal. I resist the urge to reach out and touch her, to see if she's real or just a mirage.

"I see the way you flinch sometimes," I say softly. "When someone moves too quickly, or when a door slams shut. I know you've been through hell, Vesper. And I know your body and your mind aren't always on the same page."

She wraps her arms around herself, suddenly looking small and vulnerable. "Is it that obvious?" she asks, her voice trembling.

I shake my head. "Only to those who know what to look for. Trauma, it leaves its mark, even when the scars aren't visible."

Vesper takes a shaky breath, her eyes filling with unshed tears. "Sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy," she admits. "One minute I'm fine, and the next...it's like I can't breathe. And then there are times when I want...when I feel..." She trails off, her cheeks flushing.

"When your body wants to feel something good, but your mind won't let you," I finish for her. She nods, looking relieved that I understand.

I take a step closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body, but not touching. "It's okay to want things, Vesper. It's okay to feel desire, to crave touch.”

I watch as Vesper's eyes widen, a mix of fear and longing swirling in those emerald depths. She's like a wild animal, poised to flee at the slightest provocation. I keep my movements slow, deliberate, as I reach out to brush a strand of hair from her face.

"Z-Zaire," she stammers, her breath catching as my fingers graze her cheek. "I don't...I've never..."

"Shh," I soothe, cupping her face gently. "I know, sweetheart. And we don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

The rising sun illuminates the beach around us in a soft. The light softens Vesper's features, making her look even younger, more vulnerable. My heart aches for her, for all she's been through, for the innocence that was stolen from her long before she ever had a chance to give it willingly.

"But what if I want to?" she whispers, her voice barely audible over the crashing waves. "What if I want to feel something good? Something that's mine?"

Her words ignite a fire in my veins, but I force myself to remain calm. This isn't about me or my desires. It's about Vesper, about giving her the choice she's been denied for so long.

"Then we take it slow," I murmur, my thumb tracing the curve of her jaw. "We go at your pace, and if at any point you want to stop, we stop. No questions asked."

Vesper nods, her eyes fluttering closed as she leans into my touch. I can feel her trembling, but whether from fear or anticipation, I'm not sure. Probably both.

"Can I kiss you?" I ask, my lips hovering just inches from hers.

She hesitates for a moment, then nods again. "Yes," she breathes.

I close the distance between us, pressing my lips to hers in a kiss that's soft, gentle, nothing like the heated exchanges I'm used to. Vesper sighs against my mouth, her body melting into mine as if she's finally letting go of some of the tension she's been carrying.

My hands find her waist, pulling her closer as I deepen the kiss. She tastes like salt and sunshine, and I can't get enough. I pull her tighter against me, but she stiffens.

I pull back immediately, searching her face for signs of distress. "Too much?" I ask.

Vesper shakes her head, frustration evident in the furrow of her brow. "No, I...I liked it. I just..." She trails off, struggling to find the words.

"It's okay," I assure her, running my hands up and down her arms soothingly. "Your body and your mind aren't always going to be in sync, remember? It's normal. Do what feels right to you.”

I watch as Vesper's internal struggle plays out across her face. Her eyes dart around nervously, never quite meeting mine, and her teeth worry at her lower lip. It's a habit I've noticed before, one that speaks volumes about her anxiety. I want nothing more than to pull her close, to shield her from the world that's hurt her so badly. But I know that's not what she needs right now.

"Hey," I say softly, ducking my head to catch her gaze. "We don't have to do anything else. This isn't a race, Vesper. There's no finish line we need to cross."

She nods, but I can see the frustration simmering beneath the surface. "I know," she whispers. "I just...I hate feeling so broken. So damaged."

My heart clenches at her words. "You're not broken, sweetheart. You're healing. There's a difference."

I take her hand, leading her to a nearby rock formation. We sit side by side, our shoulders touching, watching as the waves crash against the shore. The rhythmic sound is soothing, and I feel some of the tension leave Vesper's body.

"Can I tell you something?" I ask, keeping my voice low and gentle. She nods, her eyes fixed on the horizon. "When I was younger, maybe fifteen or sixteen, I got caught in the crossfire of a deal gone bad and took a bullet to the shoulder."

Vesper gasps softly, her hand instinctively reaching out to touch the spot where the scar lies hidden beneath my shirt. I let her, savoring the warmth of her palm against my skin.

"It wasn't even that serious of an injury," I continue. "But for months afterward, I couldn't stand the sound of fireworks or car backfires. My body would react before my brain could process what was happening. Heart racing, palms sweating, the whole nine yards."

"What did you do?" Vesper asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

I shrug. "Learned to cope. Found ways to ground myself when the panic hit. But mostly, I just gave myself time. And eventually, it got better."

She's quiet for a long moment, processing my words. When she finally speaks, her voice is thick with unshed tears. "But what if it never gets better for me? What if I'm always like this?"

I turn to face her, taking both of her hands in mine. "Then we'll figure it out together. You, me, Oz, the whole damn Second Sons if that's what it takes. You're not alone in this, Vesper."

A single tear escapes, trailing down her cheek. I resist the urge to brush it away, knowing she needs to feel whatever she's feeling right now. Instead, I just hold her hands, offering silent support as she works through her emotions.

"I want to be able to feel...desire without panic following close behind.”

“Considering what I just walked into, I’d say you’re figuring it out with Oscar,” I offer with a smile.

She blushes at the reminder. “This is so hard to explain. One second, I’m fine. The next, a single touch makes me want to jump out of my skin. I can’t control it."

My heart aches for her. I've seen the way she flinches at sudden movements, how she tenses when anyone gets too close. The auction - that godforsaken event where she was sold like property - has left scars that run deeper than any physical wound.

"Vesper," I say softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She leans into my touch, almost unconsciously, and I feel a surge of protectiveness. "There's no timeline for healing. What you've been through...it takes time to process."

I watch as she swallows hard, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The rising sun paints her skin in hues of gold and pink, making her look ethereal, untouchable. But I know the reality. She's flesh and blood, vulnerable and strong all at once.

“I just wish I could turn it off sometimes. The fear, the anxiety...it's exhausting."

I reach out, taking her hand in mine. Her fingers are cold despite the warmth of the morning, and I rub them gently between my palms. "I know, sweetheart.”

A ghost of a smile flits across her face, there and gone in an instant. "I'm not used to that," she admits. "Having people I can trust."

"Well, get used to it," I tell her, my voice gruff with emotion. "Because we're not going anywhere.”