Butterfly Serenade

Butterfly Serenade

By

Julianna Douglas

Butterfly Serenade

Copyright © 2017 Julianna Douglas

All Rights Reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

ISBN-13: 9781370161454

To order additional copies, please visit the author's website at http://www.juliannadouglas.com/

Cover Images by: Period Images and Michael Larsen

Cover Design by: Jaycee DeLorenzo, Sweet 'n Spicy Designs

Edited by: Melissa Ringsted, There for You Editing

ALSO BY JULIANNA DOUGLAS

Loving Hearts Series

His Heart's Desire

Heart of the Season

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

It is with deepest gratitude that I thank the following people for their contributions that assisted me on my journey to publishing this book:

The Valley of the Sun chapter of Romance Writers of America (VOSRWA) for being a continuing source of encouragement and an informative educational resource. Without you, I wouldn’t have made it this far.

Kaden James and my son, Lucas Miles, for providing musical inspiration for my hero, Colin.

My beta readers, Kathy Miles and JossiLynn, for offering encouragement and critique that helped me to improve certain parts of my story.

Jax Turyna and Josh (cover) and Kaden James (romance trading card) for becoming the perfect physical embodiment of a hero and heroine who had previously only lived in my head. Also Romance Novel Covers and Period Images for the beautiful high-quality photos of these gorgeous models.

Michael Larsen for the outstanding butterfly photos for my cover and marketing materials. I’m in awe of your photographic talents.

Jaycee DeLorenzo for the stunning book cover. I think this is your best one yet. I’m amazed by how you can take the rough vision in my head and turn in into something so beautiful.

My editor, Melissa Ringsted, for your gentle guidance in cleaning up my manuscript and cover blurb. You caught a lot of little things that I missed, and most especially, helped me to reign in my overused pet words.

My husband, Doug, for your assistance with the final edit and with formatting my manuscript, as well as your superb webmaster skills. Most of all, thank you for believing in me as a writer when I don’t believe in myself.

Lastly, I thank God for all the many things with which I’m blessed, most especially my overactive imagination without which writing stories like this wouldn't be possible.

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to every person who is the survivor of abuse in any of its forms. You are not alone. There is hope for a brighter future. You are loved.

"Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent."

– Victor Hugo

Prologue

Rose

The bass thump of the Phoenix nightclub's sub-woofers reverberates through the walls and floor of the private unisex bathroom. I turn the lock on the handle as he presses me back against the door, his mouth exploring mine and his hands traveling over my body. He's a reasonably attractive guy I picked out of the line-up at the bar. I've already forgotten his name. Daniel? Derrick? I think it starts with a D, but I can't be sure. It doesn't matter. The demons clawing their way around inside my head demand their pound of flesh and his will do as well as any.

Tired of his fumbling attempts at foreplay and his alcohol-soaked breath in my face, I pull back and give him my most seductive look. I thought you wanted to fuck.

A smiles spreads across his face, as he slurs, Damn, girl, you sure don't waste any time.

No, but you sure do.

With that, I grasp the front of his shirt and lead him across the small room to the vanity. Dropping my hands to his waist, I unbuckle his belt and unfasten his jeans. Opening my small evening bag, I retrieve a condom and hand it to him.

Once again, he gives me that cocky smile. Aren't you going to do it for me, baby?

I resist the urge to roll my eyes at him. You're a big boy. I think you can figure it out.

He seems disappointed with my response, so I add, Unless, of course, you don't want this as much as you said you did.

My veiled threat to take away his plaything, namely myself, spurs him into action. He grabs the condom from my hand, rips it open, and begins fumbling inside his pants. That's my cue to turn around. I don't really want to see his dick, but I watch in the mirror from the corner of my eye just to make sure he does it right. The last thing I need is to get pregnant or catch some disease from this guy.

While he gets suited up, I brace my feet apart, and bending at the waist, I lean into the vanity. Reaching back, I lift my short skirt up to my hips. I know I'm giving him a hell of a view, and I also know the moment his drunken brain registers it.

Holy shit! he all but shouts. Commando? You've been commando this whole time? Damn, you're a slutty bitch. Just the way I like 'em.

D's words are like a slap in my face. Whore. Slut. Tramp. Another voice–His voice–swirls through my head as though He's here in this bathroom. My hands tremble where they rest against the edge of the vanity. I grip it to make them stop. Bile rises in my throat. It takes every ounce of self-control I possess to keep from running out the door and not looking back, but I know if I do, the demons will just torment me again tonight. If I do this, they'll leave me alone … at least for a while.

His invasion is swift. I flinch at the discomfort of it. It isn't excruciatingly painful like it was the first time, but it still doesn't feel good. I can't even imagine why the other girls my age rave about sex so much. It's never done anything for me except bring me pain of one variety or another.

By now, he's thrusting in earnest. I shut down my thoughts and emotions, concentrating single-mindedly on the way D looks, the way he feels, the way he smells. I may not ever remember this guy's name, but these things I will remember because they'll put another layer of protection between me and Him. I'm in control this time.

Buried deep inside me, D leans forward to murmur in my ear. You were a real firecracker a few minutes ago. I figured you'd be coming inside of five seconds.

Think again, D.

Most ladies can't resist this. He emphasizes the last word by thrusting his pelvis against my ass.

A twinge of pain shoots through my core, but I ignore it.

This time I can't resist rolling my eyes at the guy's monster ego. Sorry to break it to you, D, but this isn't all about you. I'm the one in control here. You're only doing this because I let you.

Come for me, baby, he cajoles. I want to hear you scream.

Sorry, D, but that's not going to happen. It never does. However, I have no desire to explain this to some stranger. Hell, I don't even fully understand it myself. Not to mention, I'd really like to get this over with as quickly as possible. So, I put on a little show for him. As he begins thrusting again, I give him a few moans and then fake an orgasm. Even though I've done this a few times before, I'm a terrible actress. Apparently he's either too drunk or too stupid to know the difference, though, because a few seconds later, I watch in the mirror as his face contorts into a grotesque mask of ecstasy and his moans fill the small room.

He collapses forward, panting, his hands braced on the countertop next to mine. He might be basking in the afterglow of a powerful orgasm, but I feel no such contentment. Wanting to get away from him, I wiggle my hips until his softening dick falls out of me. Then I stand upright, pressing back against him.

He seems to get the message and turns around, leaning back against the vanity, while I pull my skirt back into place.

Wow, that was fucking awesome!

Maybe for you, D. But me? I derive no pleasure in any of this. It's nothing more than a dull exercise to bring a little peace to my troubled mind. The only real satisfaction I'll get is from what I'm about to do now.

Without ever responding to him, I turn on my heel and walk to the door.

Where are you going, baby?

I flick the lock and turn the knob.

Hey, come on … At least give me your phone number. I thought we had a good time.

With my back still toward him, I reply, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. Strangely enough, I do mean it. Even though he isn't really any woman's idea of a prize and the act brought me no joy, I'm not a completely heartless bitch.

Holding the door partway open, I turn my head to meet his gaze. But this won't be happening again.

He begins to protest, but without a backward glance, I slip through the opening into the hallway outside. As the door swings shut behind me, D's muffled voice is drowned out by the loud music. Before he can get his pants fastened and come after me, I lose myself in the crowd. Only then do I breathe a sigh of relief. I can feel the monster inside my head finally release its grasping hold on my brain, as it's once again appeased. How long it will last, I don't know. It's been rearing its ugly head more and more often these days, but for now, I sense it's returned to slumber.

I make my way through the sea of bodies to where I left my best friend, Olivia, waiting for me. A hot guy sits on the barstool next to her that I occupied only twenty minutes ago. This doesn't surprise me. Olivia is a pretty girl with long auburn hair and striking green eyes, who never fails to draw men like flies to honey. Despite that, she's still mostly unaware of her sex appeal and rarely dates. Unlike me, she's a good girl, still pure and innocent. She'd never do what I just did in that bathroom.

Setting aside that depressing thought, I approach her and tug on my earring, my signal to her that I'm ready to go. She gives her companion a rueful smile, says something to him I can't hear over the music, and slips off her stool to follow me. We say nothing until we're outside where it's quieter.

I'm glad you came back when you did, Rose. That guy was being a little too forward for my taste.

I'm sorry. I feel guilty for dragging Olivia on yet another of my hunts for fresh meat, but I don't know what else to say. Nightclubs and bars aren't really her scene–mine either, truth be told–but they're the best places to find hot, horny guys looking for a good time when school is out for the summer. For the past two years, she's been an amazing friend through all my ups and downs. She would never let me go out to one of these places by myself.

When we reach her car, I slide into the passenger seat, while she takes her place behind the wheel. Exhausted, I lean my head back against the seat and close my eyes.

Instead of her starting the car, I hear Liv bite back a sob. My eyes fly open, as I wonder what's wrong.

Rose, I don't know if I can do this anymore, Liv chokes out through her tears as she stares out the windshield.

Look, if it's because of that guy–

No! Liv cuts me off. It has nothing to do with that guy. I can deal with a few handsy guys. It's because of you, Rose. She turns toward me and looks me in the eye. I'm worried about you.

I shrug. Why? I'm fine.

This time! she all but shouts. But one of these days, you might pick the wrong guy. He might be too drunk, or mean, or not appreciate a woman trying to take the reins during sex like I know you do. What then? Or what if you catch something. I know you're careful and all, but condoms aren't one hundred percent foolproof.

During her little tirade, I lower my head, intently twisting a loose thread at the hem of my skirt around my finger. At first, I feel contrite, softening at the knowledge of my friend's concern. She's the only person in this entire world–other than her mom–who genuinely cares about me. And yet, this is how I repay her, dragging her around to places she doesn't want to go just so I can … Can what? Whore around? Play the slut?

No! That's His voice getting into my head again, and I won't allow it. Anger wells up inside me. Anger at what He made me. Anger at myself for being a terrible friend. Anger at Liv for acting like I can help it.

Finally, the rage explodes out of me. Don't you think I'd stop if I could? I shout, pinning her with a furious glare. You of all people know why I do this. It's not just because I'm out getting my jollies. I have to do it, or I'll go insane.

Tears stream down Liv's cheeks. I know, Rose, but you're not the only woman going through something like this. I'll always be your friend, but I can't keep watching you self-destruct. It's not like you even enjoy what you're doing. You need help. When we get back to Flagstaff, we'll go to the women's clinic and you can talk to a counselor.

No! I can't, Liv, I grind out through clenched teeth.

Why not? I know you don't want to talk about it, but you told me and Mom two years ago and we were strangers at the time. Why can't you do it again with a trained professional, someone who can help you figure this out?

You know why. Tears threaten to spill from my eyes, but I hold an iron grip on my anger to keep them from falling. I can't talk about it. It's too painful. I've tried so hard to put it all behind me, and I feel like if I say the words, it'll make it real again. And I can't go back to that place. I won't survive. It'll tear me apart.

That may be, Rose, but the way you're dealing with it isn't healthy and could eventually get you hurt. And I for one am not going to just stand around and watch that happen.

Fine. Then don't. I turn my head away to stare blankly out the window.

Liv releases an exasperated sigh, then starts the car and heads home.

Chapter 1

Rose

I slide the last box of my belongings out of the back seat of Olivia's car and close the door with my hip. For a moment, I stand there breathing deeply of the fresh pine-scented mountain air. In the distance, beyond the brick building that houses our dorm, the majestic San Francisco peaks rise up in their cloak of foggy clouds to meet a clear blue sky. It's good to be back at Northern Arizona University. The city of Flagstaff and this school have been my haven since I left my old life behind two years ago. I don't miss it. No one in their right mind would. It was nothing short of hell. In a way, my life didn't really start until I moved here. It's still far from perfect, but whose life is? At least it's mine to live now, and no one can make me do anything I don't want to.

Funny that I lived that old life just two short hours away from here, yet no one I used to know has ever tried to find me–or if they tried, they haven't been successful. I'm glad. I don't want to see anyone from that time. No, that isn't entirely true. The only person I'd like to see again is my old friend, Emily. Other than her, I couldn’t care less. The people to whom I'm related by blood aren't my family anymore. The only real family I have now are Olivia, her mom, Abigail, and her younger sister, Jennifer. They took me in when I had no place else to go and helped me carve out this new life for myself.

The ache in my arms reminds me that I need to relieve them of their burden. I head for the main door of the dorm. One of the girls who lives down the hall from me and Olivia sees me coming and holds it open for me. I nod my thanks, then head up the stairs for the third floor where our room is located. I've made this trip up and down about ten times today, unloading all our stuff. By the time I reach the second floor, the strength in my arms is flagging and my legs are screaming to end this torturous exercise. After taking a short breather at the landing, I continue plodding up the next flight of stairs.

At the sound of heavy, rapid footfalls behind me, I move to one side to allow the person who is quickly gaining ground on me to pass by. My cumbersome load bumps into the railing, causing my foot to catch on the next step. As I'm about to pitch down the stairs, a pair of strong hands catch me at the waist.

Whoa, there! Easy, a sexy, masculine voice rumbles in my ear.

I automatically stiffen. I don't like being touched–especially by strange men–without my permission. Knowing he's only trying to help, I take a deep breath and will my body to relax.

He leans to one side, and out of the corner of my eye, I can see he's smiling.

Are you OK?

Yeah, I'm fine. You can let go of me now, I resist the urge to say out loud.

Here, why don't you let me help you with that? Before I can protest, he moves around in front of me and lifts the heavy box out of my hands. So where are we headed?

Ah … next floor. I point upward. Room 329.

He continues up the stairs with me trailing behind. The door to mine and Olivia's dorm room is open, but before entering he calls out, Knock, knock.

Hi! Did you need something? I hear Olivia's friendly voice coming from inside the room, but his tall, muscular frame blocks her from my view.

Just helping your roommate with her stuff. He lifts his arms, indicating the box.

Oh! Well, bring it on in.

He enters the room, and I follow.

Olivia finally sees me. I was wondering what happened to you. You were gone for a while.

Having placed the box on one of the beds, my helper turns around. I'm afraid that's partly my fault. I nearly knocked her over in the stairwell. I figured the least I could do is carry her things.

Thank you, I say to one of the buttons on the front of his shirt. I can't bring myself to make eye contact. It's something I tend to avoid with men, unless I'm on the prowl. I'm afraid it might encourage him to do something I don't want. Like ask me out.

I guess I should introduce myself. I'm Colin … Colin O'Malley. He offers his hand, first to Olivia–who introduces herself, too–and then to me.

It would be rude not to accept, so I place my hand in his. It almost completely envelopes mine, and at once, I notice his long fingers. Even though his hands are on the large side, there's a gentleness in them I don't expect. Now that I think about it, once I got over the initial shock of his touch, I'd noticed it in the stairwell, too. It also didn't escape me that he'd behaved like a gentleman and hadn't tried to accidentally cop a feel. He'd only held me until he was sure I'd regained my footing.

So … He leans down a little. Do you have a name?

Realizing I've been daydreaming, and still staring at his chest to boot, my face starts to heat. Yeah, i-it's Rose … Rose Harmon.

I finally lift my gaze to find him smiling at me. He has a gorgeous, model-perfect smile with straight white teeth. And wonder of wonders, it actually shows in his sparkling eyes. I don't think I've ever seen eyes quite so blue. They're the color of the sky I just saw outside. He has dark hair, almost jet black, with an unruly lock that falls down over his forehead, giving him a rakish look. I don't think I've ever seen a man this handsome in all my life, except maybe a few times in the movie magazines Emily and I used to look at in the library as teenagers.

Still smiling and holding my hand, he says, Rose as though he's trying out my name to see if it fits.

The sound of it coming from his lips makes my stomach do an uncharacteristic flip-flop, and for a moment I forget to breathe.

It's a pretty name. It suits you.

Finally, he releases my hand. Immediately I miss the contact, but I have no idea why since I don't even like men touching me. Before I can consider what it might mean, he speaks again.

So do you ladies have any plans this afternoon?

Just finishing unpacking and getting settled in, Olivia answers. Why?

At four o'clock there'll be a big fair on the North Quad, where you can learn about all the extracurricular activities this year. I'll be in one of the booths. I'm running a couple of campus volunteer groups this year. Why don't you come down and check it out? We sure could use your help.

Olivia shrugs. I'm game. How about you, Rose?

I turn around, sending her a glare. She knows I'm not the type to get involved, so I don't know why she's trying to drag me into this. I-I don't know, I hedge, while turning back toward Colin. I'm not very social. I probably wouldn't be very good at it.

Hey, you never know. I've been working with volunteer groups for a while now. Sometimes I've had a person join thinking they didn't have much to offer, and then they discover a hidden talent or interest, a whole new side of themselves they didn't realize existed. Maybe that'll happen for you. If you come down, I'll tell you all about my groups. We can use all the help we can get, and I'm sure we could find something for you to do that wouldn't make you uncomfortable.

If he knew me, he wouldn't say that. I'm always uncomfortable, not only in my own skin, but because of what I know everyone else thinks about me. Even if I wanted to get involved, no one would want me around. I have a reputation around campus, and it isn't one that's conducive to community service.

Not wanting to make him feel bad by outright refusing, I say the only thing that comes to mind. I'll think about it.

Fair enough. If nothing else, you could come down for the music and lawn games. No pressure, though. He hesitates a moment, as though giving me an opening to respond, but I can't think of a single thing to say. In the awkward silence, I inspect my fingernails.

Well, I need to get down there soon to help set up, but um … I'd love to get to know you better.

My head jerks up at that statement, my brows drawn down in puzzlement. Why would he want to get to know me? To those who aren't aware of my reputation, I'm usually invisible. Why is this guy–this gorgeous, unattainable guy who seems so much better and nicer than me–taking notice of a nobody?

Colin heads for the door but stops just outside in the hall. It's been great meeting you both. His gaze encompasses me and Olivia, then settles on just me. I hope you can make it this afternoon.

Giving me another one of those beautiful smiles, he lifts a hand in farewell, before trotting off down the hall.

Olivia closes the door. When she turns around, she's wearing a sly smile.

What are you smiling about?

He likes you, Rose.

The possibility makes me uncomfortable. So? I shrug and busy myself with unpacking one of my boxes and arranging the things on my desk.

So, he's Colin O'Malley.

Yeahhh, I draw the word out, that's his name.

You haven't heard about him?

No. Why?

Well, I've never seen him before, so I didn't recognize him at first. When he told us his name, I realized he's the guy half the female population of this campus is talking about. They all want him, and he seems to be interested in you.

Again, my body stiffens at that declaration. Trying to ignore it, I sit down at my desk to work.

Olivia continues while spreading sheets over her bed. And it's not just that he likes you, he's known for being the nicest guy ever. I mean everybody I've heard talking about him loves him. How could you not want to get to know someone like that?

Perhaps, in my early teen years, when I still dreamed of fairy tales and knights in shining armor rescuing damsels in distress, I would have wanted to get to know Colin, too. But He ruined me for any of that. Now I'm only good for one thing, and it's not a romantic, happily-ever-after relationship with someone as apparently nice and perfect as the likes of Colin O'Malley.

Olivia breaks into my thoughts. If he'd been asking me to this activities fair, I'd have jumped on it in a heartbeat.

I glance up from where I'm organizing office supplies in my desk drawers. He was asking you.

She stops making her bed. Placing her hands on her hips, she gives me a pointed look. Sure, he included me because I was here, but he was really asking you. After all, he didn't say he wanted to get to know me better.

But why?

Her face takes on a puzzled expression. Why what?

Why does he want to get to know me?

Olivia pulls a chair closer to mine and takes a seat. Rose, you've been hanging out with the wrong kind of guys for far too long. They aren't all like Him or like those losers you pick up in bars and nightclubs. Some guys actually want a relationship. Don't you want that? To be with a guy who loves you and wants to share your life instead of all these quick fucks that mean nothing and that you don't even enjoy?

My gaze shifts toward the window, staring out at the pine trees and cloudless sky with unseeing eyes. A long time ago, I wanted that. But you know I can't have it anymore, Liv.

I know nothing of the sort! Many women have been through the same things you have and gone on to live happy lives with husbands and families. You could, too.

I turn back to my desk, working on opening a pack of pencils. No I can't, I grind out through clenched teeth. Because I'd have to tell him. It wouldn't be fair to keep something that important from a man I loved and was serious enough to marry. Hands shaking, I struggle with the plastic wrapping. And I can't talk about it. Ever! The plastic finally gives way, and pencils spill out all over the floor. Shit! I curse, while sliding to the floor to gather them up. My unsteady hands can't seem to grasp the thin sticks of wood and my eyes sting.

Olivia joins me on the floor and places her hand over mine. It's OK, Rose. We won't talk about it right now, she says in her most soothing voice, but I can tell she's disappointed. Take deep breaths.

I obey. The controlled breathing and Liv's comforting hand rubbing my arm calms me. When the shaking stops, I start to pick up the pencils again.

Here, let me help you with that. Then we'll finish unpacking.

* * * * *

Three hours later, most of our unpacking is completed, and our room is looking pretty livable. As I finish hanging the last of my clothes in the closet, Olivia looks pointedly at her watch.

It's a quarter to four. The activities fair will be starting soon.

After my little incident, I'd put it out of my mind, and I would rather not think about it again.

Liv sighs. I can tell by your silence that you don't want to go, and you don't have to, but I'd really like to. You know I've been planning to get more involved this year. Not to mention, Colin was super-nice, and I'd like to know more about what he's doing. Based on what I've heard about him, I bet it's something awesome.

With my last dress now hanging neatly in the closet, I break down the carton that held my clothes. When that's finished, I set it aside and look over at Liv. She's standing there, looking conflicted. I know how her mind works. She really wants to go, and even though she said I could skip it, she'll feel guilty if I stay here alone. Fine. I'll go.

She seems a bit taken aback, and then wary. Are you sure?

I give her a wan smile. Yes, I'm not so crappy a friend that I'd let you go all by yourself. I know you'd be worrying about me the whole time and not having any fun.

She bounds across the room and gives me a joyful hug. Thank you, Rose. Of course, you're not a crappy friend. She leans back to meet my gaze. I promise you won't regret it, and you don't have to sign up for a single thing if you don't want to. But maybe … She give me an impish grin. You'll get a chance to talk to Colin again.

I glare at her.

Her expression falls, and she puts her hands up in front of her in a gesture of surrender. OK. I swear I won't pressure you into talking with him.

That's better, I reply, smiling at her.

We make it downstairs just in time to catch the four o'clock Rapid Ride shuttle from our dorm to the North Quad. Within minutes we reach our destination. As we disembark from the bus, I feel like I've stepped back in time. We're surrounded by historical architecture, including the Victorian-looking Old Main building that's more than a century old.

I've always been fascinated by history, so the North Quad has been my favorite area of the campus since I first came here two years ago. Not only does it transport my mind to another place and time, but its green lawns and tree-lined walkways are peaceful and inviting. It's a relaxing place to read, study, or simply hang out.

Today, though, it's really hopping. Even though the event has barely started, hundreds of students mill about between tables set up all over the lawn. Some are covered by canopies, and most sport hand-painted signs touting the various activities in which we can become involved. Upbeat music spills out of speakers on one side of the quad, while on the other side, students play Frisbee, badminton, and other lawn games in an open area.

Feeling overwhelmed by the flurry of activity, I allow Olivia to take the lead. Together, we wander around, occasionally stopping for her to pick up a brochure or get more information from a volunteer about some activity that's caught her eye. Every once in a while, an overeager sponsor tries to draw me into their booth, but I politely decline. In contrast, an occasional unfriendly person who obviously knows my reputation walks the other way, avoiding me altogether. Some give me a look that says, ‘What's someone like you doing at an event like this?’

I try to ignore them, but I can't deny that it hurts. Once upon a time, I was a good girl like Liv, who would have been welcomed into any club or community service group with open arms. Now I'm an outcast. The dirty slut who isn't fit for anything remotely pure and good. It's a wonder I haven't tainted poor Liv.

I'm not sure how long we've been here, but I'm getting tired. We've traversed nearly the entire length of the quad, while meandering through all the pathways between the booths. By now we're far enough away from the booming speakers that the bass beat of the music has faded into the distance.

Liv stops one more time. While she converses with the person behind the table, I take in the gorgeous architecture, trying to