They had not taken more than a few steps down the empty street when Pamela yanked her hands from his.

"What is wrong with you?" She shot at him, giving him a rancorous frown.

"What do you mean?" He asked with exaggerated innocence that only served to annoy her the more.

She was already at her emotional limits, what, with the whole tumultuous maladies that had occurred in the span of few hours – a wedding, a resurrection, aiding and abetting assault, eloping with a dead man, having sex with a dead man, calling off the wedding – all that had stretched her to the very limit, but Devlin had a way of pushing her past her breaking point and leading her to nerve endings.

"How could you be rude to him?"

"You call that rude? He hasn't even had half of the shitstorm that's gonna hit him." He said with a lazy drawl.

"Devlin be rational, please!" She cried, her voice shaking with the intensity of her wail. She was angry, frustrated and worst of all tired at the same time.

He raised a brow and Pamela gritted her teeth in anger. The idiot could still do that? Raise one arrogant and finely carved brow in a manner that still made her heart go aflutter with love? How did God give him the ability to do things that made her endeared to him despite her anger?

"He's blind for God's sakes." She continued when she realized he was not going to give her a reaction that was more than the brows. "You can't just scare him like that, Devlin. We have to treat the handicapped with love, tolerance and affection."

"No shit, I have to write that down." He tapped his pockets as if looking for a pen.

Pamela heaved an irritated sigh. "I have to go back to explain to him –"

"No way."

"I want to!"

"I said no."

"Who gave you the right to make decisions for me?" Pamela asked, annoyed.

"Your dad."

Pamela scoffed scornfully. "Well he's not here anymore, is he? He has no right over me just like you don't."

"You moved on pretty fast."

Pamela swallowed against the tight knot that started to form in her throat. Move on? She almost laughed out loud. There was no moving on from losing her parents. Time, they say, will heal all wounds and while time had healed hers, it had failed to completely efface the pain, even though it had been reduced from the overwhelming and profound pain to a dull, occasional throb. But it was there nonetheless, as tranquil as a clock but still there as a painful reminder.

"The same way I moved from yours." She replied, tongue-in-cheek.

It seemed he saw through the insincerity in what she said because he ignored it. "Pamela, you need to trust me."

"Trust you? Don't make me laugh." She folded her arms beneath her breasts. "If there's anyone I trust it's Marcel because I have been with him for three years, while you, you're a stranger. I don't know what you've been doing all these time, so no, I don't trust you."

"Then don't. Trust our love instead but trust me when I say he doesn't deserve any kindness from you."

"Neither do you. Now get out of my face."

She tried to push past him but he held her arms in an iron tight grip. "Never."

"Devlin why are you doing this?"

"I love you, and I can't lose you again."

"How will going to explain things to a poor, blind man make you lose me? He's not going to yell abracadabra and vanish into thin air with me, will he?"

He didn't crack a smile at her wry remark. He gave her a hard, stony look and thinned his lips stubbornly.

"This was supposed to be a special day for us, Devlin. Please understand where I'm coming from."

"It is a special day, but the "us" is meant to be you and me. And we should be commemorating it in a special way, away from that sick fuck."

"You can't call him that."

Devlin let go of her, his facial expression shooting angry daggers. "Are you going to be happy if I were really dead?"

If he'd slapped her, she couldn't have been more shocked. "What?"

He frowned. "Do you want me to be dead, so that you can go ahead with your blind lover?"

If he'd chopped her into pieces with a mincer, she couldn't have felt more hurt. "Why the hell will you say something like that?"

"What do you expect? You dote on him. Whenever his name is brought up you switch gears into mother hen mode. I'm sick of it."

"Are you jealous?"

"You noticed?" His frown deepened into a scowl and he turned his back to her.

Pamela felt really bad when she saw how hurt and jealous he was. She shut her eyes briefly, trying to understand him. "I'm sorry, I just want to clear things up, I guess. I want him to understand the real reason I'm calling of the marriage."

He turned partially to regard her. "Which is?"

"You." She said softly and smiled at him.

He looked away and shrugged with indifference, something Pamela was sure he was far from feeling.

"I just want him to understand so that everyone can get along nice and good and be happy." She concluded.

"Fat chance."

Pamela sighed. "I have to go."

She turned to leave but stopped when he, with a emotionally ragged voice said, "It was not easy for me for those three years, Pamela. I was dying to see you, to hold you in my arms, to kiss you, to –" He stopped and ran his hands into his hair, which were shorter but still full, she noticed. "I was dying." He ended with a strangled whisper.

Pamela walked closer to hug him. She lay her head of his chest. "Me too, my love, me too. I just – I want – I have to explain to him. Even if you're wrought to admit it, Marcel has been supportive. He's been there all along to help me through the hard times. The least I owe him is an explanation."

Devlin sighed. "Fine, but I'm coming with you."

"I don't think that's a good –"

She stopped speaking when he turned abruptly on the heels of his boots and started walking back to where they left Marcel, and if that wasn't indication enough that he wasn't going to budge to her request, she didn't know what was. He stopped all of a sudden, turned and took her hands in his. It was a possessive gesture and Pamela found herself loving it. It had been years since she felt that way.

They walked hand in hand and found Marcel standing at the same spot they'd left him, except his head was bowed, like he was crying.

"Marcel?"

His head snapped and he blindly lunged forward to the direction of Pamela's voice and hit a wall. Pamela rushed to help and steady him.

"Pamela? Are you okay?"

"Yes I'm fine." She said, in awe that he was still worried about her despite all that had happened.

It made her see him in a beautiful new light, as she did each day with his kind and lovely gestures. But Devlin had barged in unannounced into her life and had snuffed out the light that surround Marcel and had placed it into his eyes, so that she would only see in him a beautiful new light, or any light in for that matter.

Confusion was etched on Marcel's face and his brows furrowed. "Why did you come back?"

Pamela stepped back as Marcel straightened. "I – I came to explain things."

"Explain that your husband's alive?" He asked softly.

"Yes I am."

Pamela shot Devlin a scolding glare. "Yes, he is and I promise I knew nothing about it until this morning."

"Your death was unquestionable." Marcel said, ignoring her and referring to Devlin.

"Nah, it was more like, greatly exaggerated."

"So you were alive all the while she suffered, you selfish son of a bitch."

Devlin folded his hands and smirked. "Well since you're an unselfish son of a bitch, what has that left you with? Nothing."

"Devlin, please stay out of this. I can't have you both facing off."

"Facing off?" Devlin laughed snidely. "Can't he see who he's up against?" Then he snapped his finger in feigned surprise. "Oh, that's right. He's blind so he doesn't stand a chance."

"Devlin!" Pamela was livid. The man she loved was morally and emotionally bankrupt. But heavens to besty did she love him still.

"It's alright Pamela. I'm used to being scorned, especially since I lost everything." He took her hands and caressed it gently. "If you're happy with him, go ahead. I'll be fine on my own."

"Are you sure? I could stay the night."

"No you couldn't."

She glared at Devlin. "Do you mind?"

"Pamela, it's okay, really." He reached around for his cane. "I called Boris already and he will be here to pick me up soon –"

The sound of an engine revving interrupted him. The engine was cut and a door was opened and slammed. The trio waited to see who it was. Marcel looked hopeful, that the person coming would be Boris, his aide. Pamela looked apprehensive: she was not comfortable with a lot of people knowing about Devlin's resurface and Devlin, if the rock-strewn look he was directing at Marcel was any augury, looked like he was hankering to do grisly and morbid things to Marcel.

It was Boris.

"Hello." He said to them.

"Ah, speak of the devil." Marcel said smiling.

Boris was a square and solid man in his mid forties who was about six feet tall. His head was shaved bald and that made him look menacing, except that had a pleasant smile which never wavered. Pamela had met him three years ago, right after Marcel had been out of surgery. Boris had taken care of and aided Marcel as Marcel had no family. Boris was wearing preppy clothes – navy blue golf shirt and faded jeans with black leather belt and squeaky clean boots that made him look like a retired wrestler who was trying to dampen his prowess.

It was either Boris didn't know who Devlin was or he was a pretty good actor, as he'd, much to Pamela's relief, given no indication that he knew Devlin, or that there was a third person standing in their midst. If Devlin wasn't a person with an athletic build and height, Pamela would say Boris hadn't seen him, but Devlin was someone one couldn't miss. His height and prancing gait were a sore giveaway. Boris didn't even look surprised that the wedding had been called off. His features were schooled, as it always were, and his pleasant smile was in place, as if it'd been sewn there.

He took Marcel by the arm and gently guided him towards the car.

"Take care of him, please." Pamela said, sincerely concerned.

He smiled and nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Pamela watched Boris help Marcel get into the passenger side of the dark green Chevrolet and Boris round the car to the driver's seat. She didn't stop looking at the car until they had sped down the lane and were out of sight.

"Don't be that way."

Pamela jumped. She didn't know he had come that close to her. To make matters worse, he'd spoken directly into her ears and the low husky sound was as sexy as hell, and that made dirty thoughts of sensual things pop into her head, but the thought of how impertinent he'd been to Marcel took root and sprouted branches and thereby threw a bucket of cold water on any sexual feeling she was having for him.

She sighed, unsure if she should be angry or sad or downright mopey. "For pity's sakes, Devlin, give me a frigging break."

"I'm tired of breaks." He took her in his arms and hugged her tight. "I want to hold you forever my love, I want to kiss you until all you think about is me."

She laughed and raised her head to look up at him. "All I think about is you, Devlin. You have a pretty annoying accuracy at being indelible."

"Warms my heart to hear that." He said and they both laughed.

"But you shouldn't have been that way to him." She couldn't resist giving him a gentle chiding.

"It was how I felt."

"Well, you should have refrained from speaking your mind when you know it could be detrimental to other people."

Devlin smirked. "Honey I always speak my mind cause it hurts like hell to bite my tongue."

Pamela laughed. "Oh God, whatever will I do with you?"

"I have a pretty good idea." He said huskily lowering his face to kiss her.

"Pamela?"

Pamela and Devlin froze in unison, lips halfway towards each other. They had forgotten about Florence and Henry. Was Devlin ready to reveal himself to them? Pamela wondered. Was it the right thing? Was this the best time to?

"Who is that with you?" Florence queried again, her voice pitch high with suspicion.

Devlin turned slowly, a full three-sixty degrees, until he was facing her. "Hi, Flore. It's been a while."

Her mouth spread to accommodate a gasp and her eyes widened in shock. Devlin moved quickly to stand beside her and Pamela wondered why but she did for only five seconds, as Florence went limp and fainted just after.

"Great." Devlin muttered, balancing the little woman in his arms and carrying her, bridal style into the house. "This is just what I wanted."

Pamela was not surprised Florence lost consciousness. She totally expected her to react that way. It was a mystery she hadn't when she saw Devlin. When they got to the sitting room, Devlin placed Florence gently on a couch and used throw pillows to support her.

"Where's her old man?"

"Probably nursing a gash on the head, thanks to you-know-who."

Devlin chuckled as he sat on a chair opposite where Florence lay. "Go get smelling salts."

Pamela started for the stairs without question. She went to her bedroom to get her first aid box which, thankfully, Florence had insisted she had in case of emergencies. As she opened the door to her room, she gave a startled cry.

"Henry you startled me!"

He was sitting on a love seat in her room, still holding an ice pack to his head. He gave her a clandestine look. "I know what happened, dear."

"What?"

"I know all about what happened in that room. I just kept quiet to protect you from getting scolded by Florence."

Pamela, willing herself to be calm, reached for her cabinet and took out the first aid box and opened it to see if the salts were still there. It was. She clipped it shut, satisfied, then turned to face Henry.

"I think I'm bound to receive more than a scolding from her, Henry."

"I know." He sighed heavily. "But don't worry I won't tell her."

"Oh, I think she already knows."

His eyes rounded in astonishment. "How did she take it?"

"She well," She raised the box at him warily. "needs smelling salts."

He stood. "What? She fainted because you hit me on the head? You should have told her I was trying to force you to get married. I know you're a good girl and you wouldn't do that on a normal situation."

It was Pamela's turn to be surprised. "You think I hit you on the head?"

He bobbed his head and grinned. "I was too nosy, I know that now."

Pamela stared at him, wondering if the club had loosened a few screws on his head and he had gone bonkers. Maybe it was for the best, she thought. She would tell Devlin to disappear before Florence wakes up and will explain to her that she'd been dreaming if she mentioned seeing Devlin. It was for the best that they keep him under wraps.

However, her plan was shot to hell when Devlin opened the door and walked in looking worried. "You were taking too long."

Henry made a gurgled sound and looked up at Devlin in horror. "Why am I seeing a ghost?"

Devlin and Pamela exchanged looks. "He –"

"I came back to hunt you." Devlin interjected Pamela's speech and grinned, taking a step closer to Henry, who shrank back against the chair in alarm.

"Sorry that there are no tense and scary sounds of owls hooting and the wind ain't going apeshit and flapping the curtains." Devlin continued. "But I hope this is enough. You want me to spring out my fangs and suck your blood?"

"Stop, you're frightening the poor man."

Pamela realized frightening paled in comparison to the look of trepidation and panic on Henry's face. He was also trembling like a leaf being blown on a wind swept day.

"Sometimes a sense of humor is required, even in the most dire of situations." Devlin replied sweetly. There was a silent note of laughter in his voice.

"You have a foul sense of humor." Pamela said, doing all she could to keep a straight face. If she laughed now, Henry would totally go apeshit. She walked towards him and tried to calm him down but he bolted from her.

"You – you're talking to him!"

"Yes, that's because he's alive."

"How is that possible? He was buried!"

"Yes, Henry but I can explain everything if you let me –"

"Don't touch me!" He said in panic when Pamela tired to. He touched his heart. "This old man can't take it no more."

Pamela looked at Devlin helplessly.

"I should just clobber him again." He said dryly, watching them with disinterest, his arms folded, his sudden interest at humor gone.

"You're not helping matters."

"Again? You were the one that hit me on the head?"

"Yes, Henry, he was in the room with me."

Henry visibly relaxed. "Oh thank God."

Devlin raised a brow while Pamela voiced his unasked question. "Why?"

"In all things, we need to give thanks."

"Yes, of course. But why?"

"Well, pain is a telltale sign of something real." He directed a frown at Devlin. "And you, young man, have a lot of explaining to do."

Devlin groaned. "Be quick about it, I need to take my wife home."

Pamela's head snapped up. "What are you talking about?"

He ignored her and kept looking at Henry. "We have three years of catching up to do."

"I'm not going anywhere. This is my home." She reiterated stubbornly.

The next time Devlin spoke, he was still looking straight at Henry but his words left her bereft of words, more like breathless and on pins and needles.

"And I need to make love to my wife, sun down, sun up, until we're replete with desire. I want to kiss away her pain and worries and hold her close as we bask in the aftermath of intense lovemaking. I want to have her all to myself." Then he turned and looked at her. "Or what do you think Mrs. Gusev?"

Her traitorous love button answered for her by giving a excited lurch.

~

I'm so sorry about the late upload. Something unavoidable came up I'm really sorry. I hope I made it up with the long chapter.

Thank you so, so much for reading. Please vote, comment your thoughts, add to your library and reading lists and share. Thank you.