“I’ll drive you.”

Alistair was grateful for Leonard’s help because there was a thick fog in his head.

He entered the car and, resting his head on the headrest, he closed his eyes and prayed.

Prayed for his daughter’s life.

Paddington. St. Mary’s Hospital.


8.16 p.m.

Alistair flung the car door open before Leonard could stop it fully and ran inside the hospital.

His heart speeded up in his chest as he saw a gurney surrounded by doctors, being pushed quickly down a corridor.

The blonde hair of the child was matted with blood, but he would recognize his daughter anyway, anywhere.

Thanks Christ! My dear angel. “Nathalie,” he shouted and ran after the gurney that was being rushed into a room.

Alistair stopped outside the room and looked through the glass window. He fell as Leonard stopped by his side, but his gaze was fixed on his daughter’s battered face as doctors and nurses pushed tubes and wires in her small body.

Christ! He tried to breathe but there was no air in his lungs. He swayed on his feet and Leonard grabbed him by the upper arms. My little Nathalie.

He blinked twice but his lovely daughter was still lying in that hospital bed, white as a ghost and broken as a ragged doll. Her small body was strangely bent in the middle and her legs were broken. The sheet that had covered her was stained red and had been flung in a corner. So much blood!

“Nathalie!” he roared and banged his fists on the window.

“Stop, Alistair!” Leonard grabbed his arm.

Nathalie tilted her face to look at him. Her blue eyes were wide opened and scared.

He saw when her lips moved and said, “Daddy-”

He saw as she coughed and a trickle of blood marred her white lips.

He saw her struggling to breathe and her eyes filling with a far away look.

The machine beeped one last time and Nathalie’s chest rose no more as a desperate and impotent Alistair screamed and pounded all his grief on a window pane.

Heather and Alistair’s Apartment.


Saturday, January 31st, 2009.


1.08 a.m.

Alistair closed the door behind him and looked around Nathalie’s empty room.

He wished he could kill Heather for what she had done.

But he couldn’t.

He heaved a breath as a pain that couldn’t be expressed took hold of him, going on and on, crushing him.

The best time of my day was when your laughter rang in the air, Nathalie.

Now...

Now, you’ll never laugh again.

Never again you’ll sit with me to play with your princesses and their castles in the clouds.

You will never grow into a beautiful woman.

So many dreams I had for you, my little angel.

Now... Your castles and my dreams have been shattered.

Now... You are dead.

And I am alive.

The knowledge that she was gone - forever - and that he would have to live on without her, swelled the emotions that gripped his heart. Alistair flung himself in her small bed, burying his nose in her sweet scented pillow.

I deserve to live in hell. “Nathalie,” sorrowfully he sobbed his little daughter’s name. “I’m sorry. So very sorry.”

He laid there in darkness, completely devastated, as huge sobs left his chest and his tears soaked the small pink pillow he clutched to his face.

His pain was so excruciating, his grief was so profound, his guilt was so enormous that no matter how many tears he shed, they would not ease his despair.

In the space of a few hours, Alistair Connor MacCraig turned into a black hole of nothingness.

Ells Hall.


Saturday, March 20th, 2010.


6.16 a.m.

Fragmented images swirled in a dizzying kaleidoscope of red and black. Grueling impressions of cold and pain and discomfort were overlaid with confusion and growing awareness.

Alistair fought his way out of sleep, breathing heavily as the remnants of the nightmare fell away.

He inhaled deep and looked at the windows and, through the opening in the curtains, saw that dawn was already overtaking night with its soft pink and orange hues. He felt Sophia shift slightly, still pressed closely to him. Since he started sleeping with her, he hadn’t dreamt about his daughter, but the dread of telling Sophia his dark secret had brought the painful memories back.

He rose and put on a T-shirt, shorts and running shoes. He silently left the bedroom heading to the Spa. He knew that no matter how many hours he exhausted himself on the tread-mill and with weights, nothing would take away from his memories the last image he had of Nathalie.

8.19 a.m.

Alistair’s smell is so good. Sophia burrowed her nose in his pillow.

Her lips curled as she heard the water cascading in the bathroom.

Mmmm. There is a delectable body under warm water. All alone. She jumped from the bed.

On her tiptoes, Sophia entered the bathroom. He was washing off the foam from his hair under the huge shower. It was perfect for his size. His back, shoulder and arm muscles contracted with strength. Sophia’s mouth watered. She opened the shower door silently and pressed herself flush to his back.

“Christ, Sophia!” he shouted as he startled under the water.

“Good morning, Handsome.” She rubbed her face on his back, kissing him. “You make a fine sight to start the day.”

She ran her hands on his chest and kept them moving down. He was already turned on and she gripped him tightly. Sophia’s laugh hung in the bathroom.

“What you do to me, Sophia.” He turned and engulfed her in his arms. “Sleep well?”

“Yes. The exercise made me relax,” she said dismissively.

“The exercise? The gall!” He fisted her wet hair and yanked her head back, kissing her fully on the lips, his tongue demanding entrance. He backed Sophia onto the marble, trapping her between his warm body and the cold wall. She hissed and tensed.

“Feel that?” he asked, throaty. “I’m going to have you right now just for your petulance.”

She flexed her stomach onto his hot and hard erection and moaned, “Yes.”

“Rough.” He softly bit her neck and she gasped, tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling him for a demanding kiss. Lips clashed and tongues entwined. Her foot trailed up his calf, her leg rubbing the side of his solid thigh. His hand dropped to her knee and travelled up her thigh, caressing her, testing, teasing, and without asking permission, two fingers plunged inside her.

Sophia broke the kiss with a cry, panting, her yellow diamond eyes full of desire.

He stared at her eyes and his own flamed. “So ready, Beauty,” he murmured against her lips. His strong hands grasped the back of her thighs and hauled her up, gliding her breasts on his chest. He grunted and ordered, “Wrap your legs around me.”

“So bossy, Handsome.” She wound her long legs around his waist and locked her ankles, pressing her heels on his buttocks. Her hands plunged in his wet hair.

He backed her onto the wall and pressed his chest onto hers.

“What do you want?” He let her slide down just a bit, his straining erection finding her entrance, teasing.

“You. Anyway you want,” she replied, huskily. “Inside me. Now. Here. Forever.”

“Yes!” He sank himself into her and started to work her body in a frenzy.

She moaned loudly, “Give me more. Give me everything.” So good.

He pounded and circled his hips, teasing her clitoris. His fingers adjusted better on her thighs and buttocks and one of them brushed her tight rear opening. She tensed.

“Relax,” he said and slowly thrust his index finger into her.

She gasped. And moaned, relaxing in his arms.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let me show you.”

Sophia felt she was rising higher and higher while he pounded into her, hammering with all his might. Her whole body started to tremble in time with her shaking legs.

“Let go, Sophia. I’ve got you,” he crooned and widened his stance without slowing his tempo.

She moaned with desire, “Alistair.”

“That’s it, Beauty. Come for me.”

Sophia’s throat convulsed and she arched her body on his, calling his name as an intense orgasm consumed her.

He was watching her with an intense, undefined emotion as he filled her. He saw as another shudder of pleasure shook her body and he ordered, thrusting deep and hard in her, “Again.”

She gasped, shaking her head, struggling to maintain her hold on him, feeling boneless.

“I. Said. Again,” he ordered in a hiss, licking and nibbling her neck and shoulder, thrusting fast. “Let me consume you.”

“Ah!” Her insides clenched and coiled and she screamed again as a second orgasm hit her.

Her yellow diamond eyes flew opened as a third wave washed through her. She let out a long and loud gasp and her whole body stiffened and snapped, as a fierce, lightening bolt coursed from her nape to the end of her spine, tearing her apart, with hard shudderings.

Her scream almost deafened Alistair.

He came violently, burying his head on her neck, inhaling her scent, filling her with his release. He remained inside her for some time as if he wanted to fuse himself with her, mark her body as his.

With his back now to the wall, he slid down to the marble floor with Sophia tenderly nestled in his arms.

After a few minutes, still panting hard, he asked her, “First time?”