Talk For Me: Club Avalon Book 3

by Kay Elle Parker

  “That's my good girl.” He winced when she squeezed, holding on tight, and the nerves in his battered hand flared to life, but he wasn't about to complain. “I know you're scared, Con. I asked you for blind trust yesterday, and you gave it to me. I failed you. I didn't protect you, and that asshole did a heinous thing.”

  Her fingers pushed through his, curled so they locked together. He felt wetness on the back of his hand, the heat of her skin and the raised flesh of her swollen cheek. She was crying. Jesus, he didn't know whether to signal for backup or pray the tears weren't the start of something he couldn't fix.

  “I've had black eyes like that,” he told her quietly. “They hurt like a mother, don't they? The swelling makes everything tight, a dozen pulse points randomly pop up and turn your face into a throbbing mess. Blurred vision, concussion. I can help make it stop, Connie. Just ask, and we can stop the pain. We can have a few hours of peace together.”

  His hand jostled, then the link was broken. Thane sensed movement beside him and opened his eyes a fraction, just enough to watch Connie use the bed as a guide, her body stiff and unyielding as she moved.

  She crawled onto the bed, all but burying herself against him.

  Thane’s eyes crossed as his shoulder screamed, but the pain was inconsequential compared to the absolute blind trust she gave him yet again. He didn't deserve it, not after yesterday, but rejecting that trust would achieve nothing but alienating her at a time when she needed someone desperately. Adjusting his wounded arm so it lay comfortably over her shaking body, he held her. “I’ve got you, sugar.”

  They lay there for what seemed like an age, Connie sucking up his body heat like a starving woman. Thane felt pretty useless, unable to get up for a blanket or six, but salvation came in the form of a small blonde sneaking into the room.

  Anarchy paused, her mouth dropping open when she saw Connie on the bed with him. She performed a nifty little happy dance, silently jogging on the spot, pumping her fists in the air. Adorable, but then Thane was discovering that Jasper's kitten was the epitome of the word.

  He lifted his right hand and rested it on Connie's head, stroking her hair to keep her calm. In a low voice, he said to Anarchy, “I need some blankets, Archie.”

  “I’ll find some. Do you need anything else?” she asked quietly.

  Thane shook his head, knowing Connie was listening to them. She was no longer relaxed against his side, tension filtering through her muscles. One wrong move and he'd lose all these precious moments. “No, thanks.”

  Archie tilted her head and smiled at him. “If you don't mind me saying, sir, you look really comfy in that bed. Comfy as in…you should stay there,” Archie said diplomatically. “She’s been really quiet,” she told him in a low undertone, her smile dimming. “Maybe you can make her feel better.”

  “I'm planning on it, sweetheart. Go on, now.”

  She slipped back out as unobtrusively as she'd come in.

  “Do you know what the worst thing about being Dominant is, Connie? Conceding control. We're programmed to have our finger on the pulse all the time. We command, we dictate, we fashion our world to a set of rules that keeps everything in order, with us at the helm.” He feathered his fingers over the stark purple hump of Connie's cheekbone. “Then something like this comes along and reminds us that every so often there's something we're not equipped to deal with. It's out of our control, beyond our realm of expertise. So, we have to put our perfectly controlled universe in someone else's hands for a little while.”

  She shook her head miserably.

  “Yeah, we do. This is one of those times where being submissive beneath the Dominant comes in really handy. We're not fighting to maintain control of something spiraling into chaos; we're giving it to someone who knows how to fix it.” He hated feeling the tremors running riot through her muscles. “I want to go home, sugar, and I want you by my side when I do.”

  God, he was tired. Judging by the escalating pain beginning to gnaw on his nerves, he was due his meds at any time. Hopefully, some kind soul would bring him some, unless Nurse Dina decided he deserved to suffer for a while. He wouldn't put it past the sneaky woman; she was ten kinds of steel beneath her prim and proper uniform.

  He could barely keep his eyes open by the time Anarchy returned with blankets stacked in the crook of her arm. She carried them to the bed, then began unfolding and spreading them over the bed. She looked far too pleased with herself, he thought.

  The warmth was instantaneous, making it harder to fight sleep. Archie tucked the last blanket firmly around them, then leaned down to whisper, “Atticus gave orders for everyone to stay away for a while, so no one will disturb you. Get some rest, both of you.”

  “Thanks, sweetheart, you did good.”

  “Good luck.” With a last tweak on the corner of a blanket, she exited the room, leaving them in comfortable silence.

  Thane counted off the seconds as Connie snuggled deeper into him. Her breathing was slow, steady, much like his own. Which probably meant that, like him, she was hovering on the precipice of sleep. Hovering? No, more like tumbling. His body had hit its peak and was begging for an hour of respite.

  He promised himself he would rest as soon as Connie did. A few more minutes wouldn’t kill him, would they? He stroked her back absently, listening to her gentle inhales and exhales, being lulled by them.

  For a little while, he believed everything would work out okay.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Thane was warm and real, his body her personal teddy bear.

  Since her arrival in the medical wing, her mind had swung back and forth between Oh God, he's dead and He's fine, he can't be dead. Like a pendulum gliding toward positivity, then crashing back into negativity. Again and again until she didn't know what was real and what she'd imagined.

  Connie clung to him, comforted by the arm resting stiffly across her shoulders. She could feel his pain, his exhaustion, as keenly as she felt her own. Maybe when he slept, she would be able to sleep too. The hours that had passed since yesterday morning had been so long, full of flashbacks and despair, and she hadn't been able to sleep. The pain kept her awake, but the threat of being accosted by a doctor while she slept, held down for an examination, made her reject the pain medication she’d been offered.

  Every shadow was her enemy.

  Thane sighed, and Connie sensed he was on the verge of sliding into sleep. Once he succumbed, she would be alone again, stranded in the darkness with memories and pain.

  Beneath her hand, Thane's body was relaxing, his muscles softening like wax. She didn't dare move in case she disturbed him, but she risked a glance at his face. Weariness lined his handsome features, battling with pain markers around his eyes and mouth. Her Dom was ready to crash, and she couldn't blame him. She was just afraid of what would happen when he was asleep.

  Thane's eyelids blinked open, then drooped slowly. The amber was starting to glaze. He shushed Connie when a strangled noise of protest leaked from her throat, straining the vocal cords she’d barely used. “No one is going to hurt you here, Connie. Just close your eyes, give in to sleep. Let it take the pain away for a while…” His voice trailed off as his face went slack.

  Thane? Thane. Connie shook him, trying to rouse him. Part of her realized he'd finally fallen headlong into sleep, but another part was afraid he'd surrendered to something much worse. More final. Her voice wouldn't come, trapped behind the knot in her throat she'd lived with since yesterday. She shook him harder, silently begging him not to leave her.

  As she struggled to focus on reality, her mind was already playing on her fears, scripting a memorandum reel. Thane, being masterful. Thane as a submissive, his expression blissful as his body bowed beneath her hands. Amber eyes smiling into hers, his lips curved. Thane, looming from the darkness and breaching the sanctity of her hiding place, all strict and loving and dominant.

  God, she loved him. She wanted him to wake, to stroke her hair away from her face and tell her everyt
hing would be fine. He would take her home and, if she was brave, she could slide away, drift into sleep, and this entire mess would be behind them when she woke.

  Today, she was not brave.

  Images of the living room zipped through the slideshow of Thane, forcing her pulse to spike. No, it wasn't safe at home. Men could break in, could shoot without warning. Blood everywhere, splashed over the walls and pooling on the carpet. Staining, tainting.

  Whimpering under her breath, she tried to push aside the fearful Connie and dig down to the Domme, wanting the unshakable strength and controlled calm she exuded, but her inner Mistress was missing.

  So many parts of her were missing, she didn’t know who she was anymore.

  Turning her face against Thane’s chest, Connie wept until she couldn’t keep her eyes open, releasing the floodgates on the torrent of emotions drowning her. Once she started, she couldn’t stop, and years of repressed pain finally escaped the vault.

  *

  Fire seared through his shoulder, jolting him awake as he barely bit off a cry of discomfort. Teeth clenched, Thane resisted swearing up a blue streak as he realized there was a heavy weight on his chest—Connie was finally getting some goddamn rest. “Fuck.”

  “Want me to get the nurse?” Beside the bed, Liam leaned forward in the visitor’s chair, his expression concerned. His blond hair was stuck up in spikes where his hands had raked through it, at a guess, and his gray eyes were tired. “I think she’s loitering outside.”

  He groaned, shaking his head. “It’ll pass. Getting shot in my forties is a hell of a lot worse than taking a bullet when I was younger.” He lifted his free hand to stroke Connie’s arm and make sure he wasn’t hallucinating her being there. “How long has she been out?”

  “No idea. I’ve been here a while and she’s been asleep the entire time.”

  “Good. Let’s try and keep it that way. You have news?”

  Liam sat back, obviously happy Thane didn’t need assistance. “Nothing important. You know, I like seeing you two together. Maybe I had a few doubts when Atticus first hooked you up—you were a stranger, after all, and Connie…well, Connie’s been ours for what seems like forever. But you’re good for her, Thane. Like, nurturing the soul kind of good. The last few months before you showed up at the club, I was expecting a phone call. The phone call.”

  Thane frowned, Liam’s tone distracting him from the pain terrorizing his body.

  “The call telling us she was in the hospital, or worse, in the morgue. I’ve been waiting for it, and the waiting has damn near turned me gray.” He tugged on a rogue lock of blond hair, with not a silver streak in sight. “I love her like a sister, and she was dying in front of my eyes. Not physically, but deeper. Everything conspired together to break her, and then you came along and started patching up the wounds, healing the rifts. I owe you, Thane, for her. We all do.”

  Thane scoffed. “Oh yeah, Liam, you really owe me. It’s not like I almost got her raped and killed yesterday. I should probably get a huge pat on the back for that.”

  “Unless you stripped her naked and put a gun to her head, you know you’re talking shit. That fucker, Guthrie, is the only one responsible for what happened. We all know that, even if you haven’t comprehended it yet. Fuck.” Liam checked his watch as it bleeped with an alarm. “Look, visiting hours are over for me for today. You missed Braun and Loki. Braun couldn't stay long—we're taking it in turns sitting with Bodie when he comes to visit. She can't see Connie like this, not when they've done so well keeping the pregnancy going. The stress…”

  “You don't have to explain. I get it. Connie will understand too.” Thane blew out a long breath, trying to ignore the throbbing in his shoulder. “If you have to go, Liam, don't apologize. I appreciate you staying with us when we're both shit company. And I get it, I do, that this isn’t my fault, but right now, looking at Connie, I can’t help but believe it is.”

  “Someone needs to make sure you don't get into trouble. Atticus will be here around four. The nurses should be in any time to do their checks and shit.” Liam set his hand on Thane's forearm. “This is gonna be a sore subject for a long time, brother, but it needs to be repeated. Now, before the cement sets and things can't be changed. You're not responsible for what happened yesterday. None of us blame you, Thane, and neither will Connie.”

  He sucked in a breath, feeling like Liam had belted him rather than offered unwavering support. “There's got to be blame somewhere. There'll be accusations thrown around, speculation, blame. A lot of it will come from Connie, and I'm not going to defend myself if she slings it my way. Fact is, I was unprepared. For a lot of things. I didn't expect my former commander to be a criminal willing to line me up in crosshairs I knew nothing about. I didn't anticipate the threat from Guthrie to become reality so quickly, so I left my home and my sub open to attack. Worst of all, I didn't protect her when she needed me to. I didn't stop him from touching her, Liam. What kind of man am I?”

  Liam's hand snagged him around the throat, tilting his head back. Gray eyes blazing with dominance, he forced Thane's submission to the forefront without a word. Fingers tight enough to bruise, he bent his blond head close and showed Thane exactly what kind of Dominant lurked beneath his easygoing façade. “You're the man we trusted with our girl, Thane. You're the fucking Dominant who got up after being shot and beat the absolute shit out of the asshole who hurt her. Do you think Braun doesn't kick himself for letting Bodie sneak off back to that shithole of an apartment where her parents almost killed her? Or that Jasper doesn't harbor regrets for the events that ended up with his sub driving a truck over a man?”

  Lowering his eyes respectfully, Thane wasn't prepared for his friend to tip his head back until their gazes met again. “They weren't feet away from their subs when that happened, Liam. I was in the same damn room as him and Connie when he fucked with my girl, and I was too fucking slow to—”

  The iron fingers around his throat cut his air off. “You did everything in your power, Thane. Atticus's crew cleaned up the blood in your house. We know how much you bled, we know how many bags of the stuff were transfused back in. Not many men could have gotten back on their feet and done what you did. I'll advise you not to say stupid shit like that in front of Atticus and Jasper. They'll beat some sense into you for being an idiot.” With a grunt, Liam released his throat and stepped back, flexing his fingers. “The blame lies with two men who dragged you into a feud you had no fucking knowledge of. They used you as a pawn to get to each other—they’re the ones who need to shoulder this. No one else. Are you gonna dump a heap of guilt on Connie when she wakes up?”

  “Of course not,” Thane fired back indignantly, clearing his throat delicately. “She did nothing wrong.”

  “Exactly. Don't take responsibility for what isn't yours to carry, Thane—she wouldn't want you to. There's enough crap in this world we have to drag around without taking on extra weight. Just focus on getting her through this, and we'll deal with everything else when we need to. Get some more sleep, brother.”

  Thane rubbed his neck gently as Liam strolled from the room, pulling his phone from his pocket. The Viking Master had a strict side, didn't he? But strict or not, perhaps he had a point. It was something to think about in depth while he lay in this damn hospital bed. Well, something else to think about—Connie held center stage of his thoughts now. The immediate threat was contained, so he could concentrate on loving her, guiding her through whatever minefield Guthrie had created inside her.

  The next few months would be hardest for Connie. Oh, he knew the drill for his own recovery, and while it pissed him off, he would survive waiting for the wound to heal, removing the stitches, and the start of physical therapy. By the time fall rolled around, he'd be back swinging a flogger. He remembered the spiel from three years ago, and he suspected muscle memory would help him with the daily exercises needed to rebuild damaged tissues for a second time.

  Of course, in the long run, there was no guarantee
his body would be as forgiving this time. A large portion of the wound had been scar tissue, which would take longer to heal. That left him open to infections, and his healing period would likely be a few weeks longer. The doctor warned him there was a chance he'd have to rely on pain meds going forward.

  Nothing new there.

  But Connie’s recovery would take a lot longer. Mental and emotional trauma always did. Handling her care would take patience, and he couldn’t afford to take even the smallest step back from her in the meantime—Connie would believe she'd been abandoned, yet again.

  Something horrible had been done to her, almost a reenactment of Evan's brutal assault. Thane would do anything in his power to make sure she never had a reason to believe he—or any of their friends—would throw her away. Because if he didn’t, if she felt isolated or discarded, her self-esteem would plummet, the depression they'd been working so hard to drag her out of would return tenfold, and he would lose her.

  Being a smart man, he recognized this moment for what it was—one hell of a turning point in their lives. One of those forked roads where Fate offered two directions, and their future relied on which path they chose. But he couldn’t make that choice without her.

  Connie’s roots were buried in the comfort of her friends, of the Masters. She needed all of them as much as she needed him, to become whole again.

  Someone grabbed his shoulder and pushed him upright. Thane’s eyes popped open—hell, he hadn't even realized they'd closed—and focused on the bearded menace scowling down at him.

  “Did you pass out?” Atticus demanded gruffly.

  “I was thinking.” Thane ran a hand over his face and blinked. “Lots of time on my hands, and too many thoughts to process in one go.”

  “Hospitals do that to you. Even the cushy private sector ones.” The Master sat in the visitor's chair Liam had vacated, and the damn thing groaned in protest beneath his bulk. He leaned back and tapped his fingers on his knee. “Liam was here?”