Free The Holiday From Hell by Demelza Carlton

track home from the chocolate factory. Her soul had healed a little – from the scattered glitter he'd seen in his apartment, it was now a seamless golden glow haloing her body, but nowhere near the blinding radiance it should be. Even their short daily walk to the chocolate factory seemed to tax her and it'd been a whole week. He swung her bag of purchases in his free hand, not willing to let her carry even this light load. What was he doing wrong? Maybe he should have taken her to Heaven and let her heal there.
    "It's all your fault," Mel chimed in, as if reading his mind. She smothered a small burp. "If you hadn't talked me into that brownie with ice cream, I wouldn't feel like a big, bloated ball you could roll all the way home. So much for sharing it with me. You barely had two bites – you fed the rest to me!"
    Luce grinned. Of course he had. That blissful expression on her face after the first bite…could she blame him for wanting to see it again? Over and over again? "And you said I couldn't corrupt you."
    Mel laughed. "I loved chocolate long before I loved you. You haven't corrupted me, my love. Seduced and tempted me, well, that's a very different matter. But you know I like the way you do it." There was both love and laughter in her kiss, which Luce wished lasted longer than it did.
    Hell, they shared kisses and contact, but Luce could still feel her exhaustion and he knew he needed to be careful with her. He'd give anything for another night of passionate lovemaking with Mel, but he didn't dare take the risk yet. She still fell asleep in his arms every night, when he'd barely started to heal her. Maybe he wasn't healing her enough – he needed to do more, not stop when she fell asleep. Maybe…
    Her fingers reached into his pocket, riveting him to the ground. Was she checking how tight his pants were? Just the thought of her…
    Mel held up his phone, ringing with an incoming call from an unknown number. Luce hoped it wasn't the crazy Korean couple again. He'd unzip his pants and introduce them to the devil, he fumed. "Hello?" he growled, fumbling one-handed with his zip. "If you're calling to show me more R-rated videos, I'm not interested. I have my own, far more attractive lady here and she's –"
    "Mel. She's Mel, I hope. If she isn't, you'd better tell me now," an Irish voice interrupted.
    "Who's this?" Luce demanded, though he suspected he already knew.
    "It's me, Patrick. I'm surprised you didn't guess from my accent, Luce. Raphael has news, but he refused to call you himself, so he begged me to do it. He offered me all sorts of things, but I agreed because it'd give me an excuse to ask what I really want to know. How is she?" Even down the crackling mobile signal from the other side of the world, Luce could hear the concern in Patrick's voice.
    Luce groped for Mel's hand and brought it to his lips. Her eyes turned to meet his and he struggled to read her soul through them. "She…she's not as strong as she should be, but she's a damn sight better than the sorry state she arrived home in. It's slow, but she's recovering. I've allowed a month, but I don't know if that will be enough."
    Mel's eyes shimmered with tears at the pain and hopelessness even he could hear in his voice. "I trust you, my love. If anyone can help me recover, it's you. You'll find a way."
    Patrick's voice came down the line again. "Is that her? Is she there? Can she hear me? Oh Hell, Mel, Koyane said he didn't think you'd last the flight home, but he thought persuading you to stay would only weaken you further. I wanted to fly over to help you, but there was a disturbance in Belfast that threatened to get ugly and I couldn't leave. Tell me how you did it."
    She'd been so weak she almost didn't last the flight? No, the Mel who'd rescued him in the seminar room hadn't been on the verge of collapse. That was later, when Raphael had barged into his home. But if Koyane had been right, then why would she take such a risk to come here? Why