by Alex Lidell
The bastard is making it up as he goes along.
Again. And again. Pulling me out of the sand pit for a new flavor of misery—a run through an obstacle course until my legs and arms are shaking, a wall climb that has me falling onto my back, a log lift that leaves my abs too weak to contract—and then dragging me right back to the same spot. The same sand. The same game, over and over.
Funny how understanding the game doesn’t take away its power.
“Lock it up,” Reese snaps.
I clamber to my feet, the sand inside my shirt and pants and bra rubbing my skin raw. My arms ache, shaking even as I strike the ordered attention, my heels and calves and thighs pressing together, my thumbs tracing the trouser seams. My eyes straight ahead. Bracing. Waiting. Shivering.
“Am I disrupting your night? Have you something better to be doing just now?” Reese’s face is so close to mine that I feel the light heat his vampiric body produces, smell his tangy cologne of fresh ocean breeze, a bit of mint and male musk. Feel and smell, but don’t see, not with the male standing just off center from my straight-ahead gaze. “That wasn’t rhetorical, witch.” Reese’s breath brushes my cheek, his words dripping with contempt. “Answer me.”
“Sir. No, sir.” At least that much is truthful. Fuck it. Maybe I’m kidding myself. Maybe I’m not here to make a point or stand up for pride. Maybe I’m out here pissing off Reese because it’s better than being alone with my nightmares. Maybe, just fucking maybe, I’m here because I deserve every last bit of this. “Nowhere better, sir.”
I’m exactly where I should be.
11
Reese
Reese froze, the flash of pain coming off Sam hitting him in the gut with soul-wrenching precision. What the bloody hell was he doing peeling away the witch’s defenses when he’d promised himself to stay away? To not get involved in whatever it was that haunted her. And yet here they were, her trembling from a great deal more than cold and fatigue and him in too deep to stop now.
It was the second time in as many days that the girl baited him into a punishing routine, except this time, he had no one to blame but himself. She’d challenged him, and, like a juvenile unable to back away, Reese reacted. How many centuries had it been since someone could get under his skin so swiftly?
Well, now the bill had come due. With her shields cracking under Reese’s merciless pressure, Sam now wore that look he’d seen on more soldiers’ faces than he cared to count—an overwhelmed, pain-racked dread that destroyed souls if left to fester. That protective feeling rose up inside Reese again, the one longing to heal her pain. And, unlike in the training room, backing away like a coward was no longer an option, not when he’d been the one to slice open the wound.
All right. Tension raced through Reese’s spine, his heart quickening as he mentally sprinted through her past weeks. Bernadette’s betrayal. Imprisonment. Quinn’s near rape. His death. Ellis. The piano. Any one of those traumas would be enough to drive someone into a hell, but from Sam’s heaving chest and glazed eyes, from the way she was a glutton for punishment, she wasn’t just reliving them. She was blaming herself for every damn one.
Bloody hell.
Sam swallowed expectantly, reminding him that it was time to get on with it. To break her enough to allow for the emotional readjustment he owed her. And try like hell not to shatter himself in the process.
Reese’s throat tightened. He was making the witch’s wounds his problem, wrapping himself so deeply inside her pain that he might not crawl out. It was a cliff he’d been approaching for days—and now he was about to sprint headlong over it.
Right. Might as well commit to the fall. Bracing himself, Reese tried to recall what insult track he’d been on when the truth punched him in the gut. Yes, whether she thought she was in the right place. Shifting his weight, Reese reached back for the routine that came too easily after centuries of an all-you-can-march buffet of military training.
“Well, thank the bloody heavens you think so, because I would hate to impose,” Reese shouted across the witch’s stricken face. Familiar insults that were no longer easy to throw. “Or to let pass this opportunity to learn from your great wisdom, Devinee. So much smarter than the rest of us. A witch who knows everything. Who owes no respect, no apologies, no consideration to anyone in Talonswood. Fuck, maybe we have it all wrong. Maybe it’s the rest of us who owe you. Is that what you think, Devinee? Do the rest of us owe you something?”
Sam flinched, color gripping her neck and face, anger that she still could somehow summon spilling into her scent. “No one owes me anything, sir.” She spat the words at him, glaring into his eyes. “I have been crystal clear on that much for a long time.”
“Oh, you’re looking at me now? What is it? Too good to lower your gaze, too undisciplined to keep it raised. A bit of a mixed message, don’t you think?” Reese twisted his mouth into a cruel snarl and loomed over her, his power pushing in like a physical force. “Was that what happened with Quinn too? Did you mix up your messages? Let the poor bugger think you wanted to be fucked and then changed your mind?”
Samantha’s hazel eyes flashed with fury, and Reese was careful to grab her wrist before the fist she was making could take flight. Gray light paled into lavender around them, the sand pit and Samantha and the surrounding training yard climbing out of the shadows. Not that he needed the light to see every inch of the girl. She was beautiful in her fury.
Samantha swallowed. Opened her mouth.
Reese shoved her back down to the ground, ensuring she had a mouthful of sand to spit out before she could consider talking. “Push.”
She couldn’t. But she tried anyway. Her slender arms tight and cramping, her body shaking so badly that bits of sand flew off her blue PT kit into the air. The scent of her fury filled Reese’s lungs. But he couldn’t back off. Couldn’t lose focus Not now. Grabbing a bucket of water he’d prepared, he doused the girl with icy liquid and stood back as she screamed.
“Push,” Reese yelled over her. “I’d have thought a single-word command was short enough even for you to understand.” He dropped until his face was inches from Sam’s, her scent making his head swim. “But maybe I’ve figured you out. You don’t understand. You grab and run. You break everything you touch. But that’s why you’re here in Talonswood, isn’t it? Bryant dangled money in front of you, and you ran like a greedy streetwalker. Push.”
Sam’s breath hitched.
“Hades take me. One bloody pushup is taking half the night. I’m immortal, and even I don’t have the patience for the next ninety-nine.”
“Ten.” Sam’s jaw clenched, her teeth grinding so hard that Reese could hear them. “I’ve done ten.”
“You’ve done zero. That was one charity push-up that I counted.” Reese loomed over her, moving as she did. Never letting up. “A greedy little witch, but a piss-poor one. Good thing you’ve managed to get others to do your dirty work. Ellis. Remember him? He’s the one who bled for you. Killed for you. All because— ” Reese’s words caught in his throat as Sam’s scent shifted like a breaking storm.
Thank Hades she was finally cracking, because Reese didn’t think he could keep this up for much longer.
“You break everything you touch,” Reese dropped his voice as Sam’s eyes closed, her body dropping to the sand. “Ellis. Cassis. Asher too. Do you know how long he worked to get this academy organized before you lured Victor here?”
A sob escaped her chest.
He could barely continue now, her scent so saturated with pain that his throat closed, his hands itching to comfort her. It’d never been like this before. Fuck, he’d never wanted it to be over this badly before.
“Do you?” Reese shouted mercilessly into her ear. “Do you?” Over and over, watching as she flinched from the verbal blows. Feeling them land just as heavily on his own chest.
“Yes,” Sam cried, her words filling the empty training yard, ripping Reese’s soul to shreds. Tears slid down her face, which she no longer tried
to cover. Her whole body trembling before him. “It’s all my fault,” she sobbed into the ground. “I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.”
Hades take him.
Reese felt as though his insides were pooled beside her in the sand. It took all his self-control to stay still. To give Samantha the time she needed. But when she raised her face to him, her eyes begging him to inflict whatever pain could drown out the one tearing her apart from within, his restraint broke.
He hadn’t been prepared for this part. Hadn’t trained for it. He was far, far out at sea, drifting in her scent, her brimming hazel eyes, her pain, willing to do anything to make them stop. Just as he’d begged Sienna to make his wife’s pain stop. He couldn’t bear it.
Taking her tear-streaked face into his hands, Reese lifted it gently until he could catch her large eyes and prayed to whatever deity was listening that Sam was ready to believe him now. “It isn’t your fault, Samantha. None of it. You no more could have stopped what happened than you could have done a push-up I’d have said was acceptable. The rules were rigged.”
“But you said—”
“I said what you were telling yourself. But—with the exception of the bit about you not being ready to manipulate magic—none of it is true. None. And you need to know that.” Reese exhaled, pushing a lock of Sam’s sweat-soaked hair behind her ear. Hades, she was beautiful. And hurting so much that Reese wanted to sink his fist into the nearest brick wall for having done that to her. “There is a great deal at stake, Samantha, and none of it will be built on a foundation of lies. Ones to yourself included. Quinn was a filthy bastard who deserved what he got. And Ellis would step in again in a heartbeat to save you. As would I. Or Asher. Or Cassis. You are responsible for none of it, Sam. You don’t hold the reins in this world, and you’re going to have to be okay with that. You’re not always in control.”
He watched her face, could practically read the thoughts there—her brief, hard life in the mortal world, all the many decisions she’d had to make for herself there. Never trusting anyone or taking a handout. That would all have to change—now.
“You’ll need help navigating this world, Sam. My help. Others’. Can you accept it?”
She blinked. Drew a gasping breath. Stared at Reese as if she feared to put too much stock in his words lest they be yanked back. But at least she wasn’t hiding now. It was a start.
Sliding his hands under her, Reese cradled her against his chest. So small and light. So filled with passion that she burned even herself. That she allowed him to carry her, especially after what he’d done, was a gift Reese knew better than to underestimate. A gift that shook him to his very core, raising questions he wasn’t willing to even begin answering.
As Sam pressed her head into his shoulder, her body still trembling but not hiding from him, he made quick calculations. He needed to get her warm, and she needed not to have an audience. Not the cadets’ barracks then. The infirmary? Too sterile. And possibly too intimidating given her last visit there. His room, then. Pulling a phone from his pocket, Reese sent Asher a quick text message to make himself scarce and headed inside.
12
Sam
It isn’t your fault, Samantha. None of it.
I tremble against Reese’s hard chest, my body spent, my emotions leaking onto my cheeks. When I draw a shaking breath, the male’s arms tighten around me. Protective. Secure. Confident.
A male I barely knew when I went to sleep last night, who now carries me as if I weigh nothing. His skin is cool, and his scent washes over me, bathing my senses in minty, tangy sea air.
Reese heads into the instructor’s wing and inside a large, plain suite I assume must be his—two leather armchairs and a couch, a soft blue rug, bare fireplace, and flat-screen TV. And, through the two open doors on either end, beds.
My heart quickens, and Reese stops, his blue gaze brushing me with too much understanding.
“You’ve nothing more to fear from me, Samantha. Not today.”
“I like the qualifier.”
Snorting softly, Reese walks us into the bathroom, which is larger than some of the rooms I’ve shared in foster care. When he sets me down on top of the large marble vanity, his hand lingering on my shoulder for a moment, I realize I need the wall just to keep myself from falling.
I immediately feel the loss of Reese’s presence when he steps away, though the sound of running water filling the room a moment later explains what he’s doing. Warm steam escapes from the frosted shower door, moistening the air. Returning to me, Reese bends to pull off my boots and socks, his thick, dark hair shining in the low light.
“I can do it my—”
Reese snaps me a look, cutting me off midword. “What did I say?”
I can’t help the small smile that creeps onto my face, remembering his words. Can you accept help?
“And it’s not because you are a weak person, Samantha, but because I wore out your body. This is my doing. Do you understand?”
I nod.
Still, he bends before me, his face level with mine. “It’s crucial that you do. You’ll need to hold your own in this world, just like you used to in yours, but you’ll need to learn to be part of it too. When we do get around to teaching you vampire protocol, you’ll understand that kneeling and bowing are symbols. Like shaking hands and saluting, they only negotiate power if you let them. But sometimes, with the right person, you should let them. You can give up control while still holding on to yourself. Am I clear?”
Reese waits, pinning me in place with his eyes.
Finally, I nod, and he picks me up again, carrying me under the stream of hot water, clothing and all. It’s a heady, strange experience giving up control, but I’m too exhausted to care. For several long heartbeats, we just stand there, my head resting on his shoulder, getting wet and warm under the pounding shower spray. Comfortable. Which would be a good thing if that damn comfort didn’t also let my thoughts come racing back.
Squirming out of his arms, I let my feet settle on the tile floor, the calmness of the past moments fading. “No matter what you say, no matter what I meant to do—I still got everyone hurt, Reese.” I take a step back from him. “You know it. I know it. Why—”
“Stop.” Reese’s sharp British order echoes off the wet walls, and my mouth shuts without consulting my brain.
I’m tired. Of fighting. Of feeling. Of being wrong all the fucking time. And something about the solid confidence of Reese’s order feels like an anchor I can hold on to.
“Thank Hades.” Reese rubs his face, wiping away water that streams along his strong cheekbones. His black T-shirt is plastered to his torso, his biceps straining the sleeves. This close to him, I have to crane my neck back to meet his eyes, to trace the sculpted angles of his face. “What am I going to do with you, Samantha?” He holds out his hand as I open my mouth to reply. “Rhetorical question.”
Reaching out, he takes my chin in his hand, his brilliant blue gaze piercing into me. “I’ve worked you enough for one night, but that mind of yours won’t let you rest, will it? All right. Then we are going to do something else.” Reese steps even closer, crowding my space, his hold on my jaw tightening. His voice is not unkind when he speaks again, but it’s not yielding either. “I’m going to take the reins for a while, the way my vampiric instincts pull me to do. I may not be able to compel you, but you are going to let me, Samantha. Willingly. Silently.”
My eyes widen, and Reese shakes his head quickly. “I’ve no intention of taking you sexually. I’ve never forced a woman in my life, and I’m not about to start with a witch.” The words should be hurtful, but they aren’t. “But I will take charge.”
I swallow at the strange rush of heat Reese’s words send through my core, despite the glare I give him.
Before I realize what’s happening, Reese pulls my shirt over my head with the practiced ease of a male who’s been removing women’s clothing for many centuries. The shock of hot water against my sandy skin mixes with the headiness
of being shirtless before Reese. I clasp my hands across my chest protectively.
Reese shakes his head in warning, and my arms drop away, my breath stopping as my bra follows the same way as my shirt.
Reese’s blue eyes brush my body slowly, then return to my face, nothing betraying his thoughts but a tiny tic in his jaw. “You’ve nothing to hide, Sam. I’ve seen you naked before.”
Right. The hosing down on the first day. I cringe, but my knees soften. Being naked in front of Reese makes me feel vulnerable, but not lewd. Which is somehow hot as hell.
He reaches over my shoulder, brushing my skin with one thickly muscled arm, and his cool skin against the hot water makes me jump. Fuck. He could break my neck with those arms and not even realize something was in his way. In the back of my mind, Cassis’s warning purrs over my thoughts.
Don’t mistake my control for safety. Not with me, not with any of my kind. Do you understand?
My heart quickens, the shower stall tightening around me. And yet, somehow, the shot of fear flushing my veins only feeds my arousal.
Reese’s arm pulls back, blue gel pooling in his large palm, the shampoo’s smell already filling the humid air. Ignoring the tension in my body, Reese spreads the gel over my hair, strong fingers massaging it into my scalp while the water running down my body clears away the sand.
My breath rushes out of me in quick bursts. My breasts feel achy, full, just from seeing the ridges of Reese’s body revealed beneath wet clothes, and yet I can’t tell apart the arousal from the fear. And the humiliation that I should feel but somehow don’t. I know I should be doing something. Covering myself up or, at the very least, shampooing my own hair. In fact, I should—
“Stop thinking,” Reese orders. “There is nothing that you can do that’s wrong, because I am telling you exactly what to do. In fact, turn around and put your hands on the wall. Palms flat.”
