Cabin of Axes - Bea Paige Page 0,46

I fall deeper and deeper beneath the memories.

It’s carnage. I feel as though I’m drowning.

Drowning under a sea of memories.

Drowning.

Drowning.

I can’t breathe… I gasp for breath, my mouth opening and closing like a fish on land.

Then I realise it isn’t real. This is a memory. A memory where my breath is stolen as a strong hand grips my throat and soft lips caress my lips. It’s Berrin’s hand, Berrin’s lips and my lust-filled moan as he releases my throat just as an orgasm fires through my body with an intensity that has me almost passing out. Another memory breaks free on the back of that one, this time it’s of Franklin unwrapping a thick silver chain from around me.

“Forgive me, Goldie…” he cries, falling to his knees on the floor before wrapping his arms around my waist. A moment later I fold over him, my arms comforting him as much as he’s comforting me. That memory dissolves only to be replaced with another one where I’m sitting in Franklin’s lap a few weeks later, we’re laughing, in love. Happy. That disappears to be replaced by me lying across Mathieson’s lap, my skirt is pulled up over my arse and his hand is raised. A sexy smile plays on his face before his hand lands across my tender flesh. I whimper in pain, then in pleasure, as he strokes my pussy reverently. A single tear rolls down my cheek as I orgasm and Mathieson flips me around, kissing my cheek, my lips, my forehead muttering words of love all the while I unravel beneath him. My senses are blown apart by the remembered orgasm as though I’m living it once again.

More disjointed memories swirl around me, coming at me thick and fast as though I’m standing in the eye of a storm. I can smell neat scotch and wet pine needles drying in the sun. I can hear a man singing and the sound of happiness, my happiness, my laughter. I can feel soft lips, rough palms, smooth cocks. I can see the Torben brothers topless, chopping wood and carving statues, their chiselled muscles glistening with sweat. I see them laughing at the kitchen table, a spread of wonderful-smelling food laid out in front of us. I feel happy. So damn happy.

Until I’m not.

Until I’m crying.

Heartbroken.

I see a woman crying, her reflection in the mirror staring back.

That woman is me.

Me.

I’m drowning in emotion.

Me.

Cold dread settles over my skin as my heart breaks.

Me.

I’m that woman in the mirror.

She’s me.

My name is Cynthia Cartwright.

I’m their sin.

They are the Torben brothers.

Torben means bear. Rough, wild, untameable.

They’re the men I love. The men I have to leave.

They call me Goldie...

Goldie.

Goldie.

Just like the fairy tale.

I’m their Goldilocks, and they are my three bears.

Chapter Sixteen

My head throbs. My body aches. I feel nauseous…

But I remember.

I remember.

I remember everything.

I remember who I am.

I remember why I came here, and why I left.

I remember who I love.

Love.

I’m in love with three men: Franklin, Mathieson and Berrin.

They’re my heart. They’re why I’m back here. They’re the reason my heart beats and my soul thrives. They’re my alpha men, and I’m...

I’m theirs.

My heart skips a beat as my eyes snap open, then drops when I find myself alone.

“Berrin?” I call tentatively. I remember he’d rescued me from the bees, from Mathieson and Franklin who had only remembered part of our history, not all of it, and seemed intent on hurting me in a way I may not have recovered from. Shifting my bottom over the mattress, I slide myself gingerly towards the edge of the bed. I’m sore. My muscles ache and the grazes and cuts on my skin sting, but the pain is dull, bearable.

It’s the middle of the night, the room is dimly lit by a full moon and a clear midnight sky filled with millions of stars sparkling just like the hope within my chest, just like the memory I’ve woken up from. Groaning, I swing my legs off the bed and stand, my gaze landing on my image in the mirror opposite me. I’m completely naked, my hair is loose, wild and unbrushed. Twigs and leaves are tangled in the mess, and in my peripheral vision I can see a dead bee hanging from a few strands of hair. Reaching up, I pluck at it, placing its tiny body in the palm of my hand. Feeling infinitely sad at its still form.

“This is all because of you,” I murmur, staring at the creature for a moment before