by Kyle, Celia
She got that smile that told her he knew she’d been hiding.
The barefooted swagger that said he was comfortable with her.
The exposed back as he stood at her desk that indicated he trusted her.
The stew that said he wanted to care for her.
Damn it.
Following the next slap she caught the ball and then set it beside her, reaching for the stew with her free hand. He handed it over with a murmured “careful, it’s hot” and relaxed against the wall along with her. They sat there, shoulder to shoulder while they silently ate. The flavors coated her tongue and slowly filled her stomach. Not as good as the chocolatey, cream-filled goodness she had hidden in her desk, but still delicious.
Before long she was at the bottom of her bowl, spoon scraping against the hard surface as she captured every remaining drop. She licked the curve of her utensil and glanced at Harding. He held out his half-filled bowl, extending it toward her without a word.
Did she dare? Her gaze flicked between his face and the bowl and back.
Yet again he talked to her without saying anything, told her that he cared more for her health than his own hunger.
Damn it.
Slowly, she took the bowl from him and set the empty one aside. Still not looking at him, she resumed eating, spooning the delicious stew into her while covertly watching him.
Harding seemed at ease, his muscles loose as he sat beside her. He plucked her tennis ball from the ground and mimicked what she’d been doing moments ago.
Thud. Thump. Thud. Slap.
The steady tempo repeated over and over again, the familiar sounds soothing to her tumbling mind. She didn’t want him in her room, did she? She swallowed another bite, licking the spoon to capture every hint of the delicious spices. For the briefest of moments Harding’s rhythm faltered, and then he settled back into the normal pace.
Huh.
Keeping an eye on Harding, she scooped another bit of the stew and slid it into her mouth. This time she let a small moan of appreciation flow from her. It happened again: a slight stutter in his movements.
She did it once more, flicking the underside of the spoon with her tongue. His reactions made her bold, made her forget that being near him was a mistake. Because…because some part of her was drawn to the massive lion. The man with scars that covered his body, proof that he’d lived a hard life, called to her. For every wound that had dug into her soul, he carried on his skin. Was that why she was at ease with him?
Maybe.
Tess teased once more, licking the delicate curve of her spoon and the next slap of the ball against his palm ended with a soft pop as his elongated nails dug into the pressurized rubber.
“Tess…”
She sought out the fear that usually lingered beneath her skin, lurking and waiting for a chance to pounce on her when she least expected. Yet it didn’t appear. Not a hint of nervousness or worry jumped out at her. No panic attack reared its ugly head. Nothing.
Unwilling to push him further, she sat the bowl and spoon aside. “I needed that.”
“Uh-huh.” Harding tossed the ruined ball into the trash across the room. “You wouldn’t have if you hadn’t been avoiding me and snatched more than snacks here and there.”
She wasn’t gonna blush from embarrassment. Really. She also wasn’t going to tell him about her secret stash of snack cakes. There was nothing better than highly processed, chocolate-topped goodness. She could live on Twinkies and Swiss Rolls for the rest of her life.
“I was—”
“Avoiding me.”
Harding pushed from the ground and rose to his full height. He extended his hand and she stared at it, her gaze shifting between his palm and his face. Pushing aside the flutter of nerves that formed in her belly, she gave him her hand and allowed him to pull her from the floor.
In a blink, she was vertical, standing before him. No, that wasn’t even right. He’d tugged her up and then some, pulling her against him until his heat crept through her clothes. Their bodies were aligned, her curves against the hard planes of him, and once again she was reminded of their differences. His skin was stretched taught over rippling muscles while her body just…rippled.
Okay, jiggled. Her fat jiggled. There, she admitted it.
But, admission or not, she couldn’t tear away from him, didn’t want to move from his arms. Because she was in his arms, his hands now clasped at her back and holding her close. He surrounded her with his presence, embracing her as if he’d like nothing more than to remain that way for eternity.
For a moment, the briefest of heartbeats, she allowed herself to dream. To imagine being held every day. To imagine waking beside him, his kisses tugging her from slumber.
Oh yes, she imagined… Then pushed it all away with a simple reminder.
She was Tess McCain.
She wiggled, pulling back while pushing against his chest, silently fighting for release. Without hesitation he let her go, and she stepped away from him, putting distance between them. Not that there was much space in her tiny room with all of her furniture, but even a foot was better than the press of him against her.
Dreams were for other people.
Keeping her gaze averted, she went to the plush chair in the corner and sank into the soft cushions. “Thank you for dinner. And I wasn’t avoiding you per se.”
Harding quirked his brow, disbelief evident in his features. “Right.”
She reached behind her and tugged the throw pillow free so she could hug it to her chest. “Not really.”
“Uh-huh.” He stepped to her desk and sank into the office chair, spreading his legs wide as he lay sprawling in the seat. “Try again.”
“I was avoiding…confrontation.” There, that worked. It was vague enough to mean…
“With me? Or Jackie?”
Damn him for doing the whole specific thing. “Um…”
Harding leaned forward, drawing his legs in and then resting his forearms on his knees. “It’s a little of both, isn’t it?”
The desire in his eyes forced a blush into her cheeks. The sexy, knowing smirk made it burn all the hotter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh.” Harding’s eyes paled, his cat coming into play and his nostrils flared as he took a deep breath.
Shit shit shit. She hadn’t exactly kept a lid on her attraction to him. “I’m serious.”
Now he sat back with a cocky grin. “Right. We’ll talk about Jackie first. You didn’t say anything to Ben—or even Stone—or ask me to step in. Why? Our job isn’t just to keep you protected from outsiders, Tess. We need to keep you and the other women safe from all threats, both outside and in. Period.”
Tess sighed and let her eyes drift closed. “It’s a…thing.” She shook her head, forcing memories to stay within the vault she’d created long ago. She could talk about the past without letting everything run free. “I haven’t always been here, you know?” She didn’t open her eyes to see if he was focused on her. She felt the weight of his gaze. “I was shuttled around a lot. Moved from place to place, usually wherever Alistair happened to be.”
She swallowed past the growing lump in her throat, pushing down the tears. “We stopped in Texas.” Now she opened her eyes, stared right into the pale orbs and shoved through the increasing ache. God, why couldn’t she talk about this yet? It’d been fucking years. And it hadn’t even happened really. But the “almost” and “could-have-beens” always won out. “I was thirteen.”
She gave him a moment to recall the importance of her age and when his gaze fell to her wrists, she saw the flare of recognition climb through his body. He tensed, muscles stiff beneath his skin.
Tess cleared her throat. “I was thirteen. And my ‘almost’ was a certainty for Jackie. Before Alistair found out and killed the male, there was Jackie.” She shook her head. “She nearly didn’t make it.” She turned her attention to the wall, seeing, yet not. “I don’t even know if he ripped that man apart becaus
e of me, or her. But it had the same result, regardless. No one ever tried to rape me again.” She focused on Harding then, taking in the rage that lined every inch of his body. “And she’s never been beaten since.”
Harding’s chest slowly rose and fell, his nostrils flaring with each breath, and he clenched the arms of the chair with claw-tipped fingers. “And the rapes?”
“Those continued. The woman never stopped fighting those animals, but it always happened. She just wasn’t battered and bruised when it was done. They became very, very careful.”
“So she blames you.”
Tess nodded. “She blames me. If those men couldn’t have me, they went after her. Alistair made us travel together then, thought it was hilarious that she tried to kill me nearly every day. He never let her get in more than a few swipes, but it amused him.”
“So she’s still trying.” His face no longer held the gentle lines she’d memorized, but had now hardened and sharpened. Yes, the kitty was pushing for a chance to come out and play.
“Yeah,” she shrugged. It was what it was. Thirteen years taught her that it wasn’t likely to change. “It was worse this time because I went after her and managed to get in a good swipe before Stone separated us. He knows of our…animosity. He just doesn’t have anywhere else to put me. I figure the devil you know is better than the one you don’t. Jackie will always be after me.”
“Damn it, Tess.” More growls tinged his words.
“Let it go, Harding. I know you’re here to keep us all safe.” She gestured around her room. “This is me being safe. Sooner or later the Council will get things settled and then they can lock me away in another room, away from people who don’t want me dead.” Not that she thought they would find such a place, but she hoped. She hadn’t had any in years, but it had started growing deep within her.
Harding released the chair and brought his hands to his temple, rubbing small circles over the bone. “Fuck fuck fuck.”
Tess tilted her head to the side, watching the man and noticing things she’d missed before. There were lines of tension marring his lips, his eyes half-closed, and the tightness of his jaw showed a stress that couldn’t be just from her words.
Damn it.
“You’re still hurting.” It was a statement, an expression of the truth. “From that first day.”
“Yeah.” His voice was hoarse, more of the cat coming out to play. But she didn’t sense aggression or a threat coming from the beast. No, now that she was paying attention, pain was all she felt. Pain tinged with a hint of someone other. A person she knew?
Pushing to her feet, she padded across the room, ignoring every warning bell that sounded within her. Hurting animals were dangerous, deadly. Even shifters were known to strike out when injured. This wasn’t physical damage, but it was no less painful.
She stepped between his outstretched legs, ignoring the seductive scent surrounding her. His body called to her, urging her to slide onto his lap and hold him close. But she couldn’t. Not yet. Not until she figured out who was trying to drive him insane. Millie was strong, but not this strong. It’d been four days since he’d arrived, and still his pain continued.
With a flick, she pushed his hands aside and replaced his fingers with her own.
It was a gentle touch that pulled a deep snarl from his chest. “Tess.”
“Hush.” Her fingertips rested on his temples, and then she did something she hadn’t done in years: she opened herself.
To Harding’s pain… To someone’s hate… To a presence that was eerily familiar, yet not.
*
The word had barely left Tess’s mouth before pure peace settled over Harding. A sweetness he’d never experienced washed through him and gentle, ethereal hands stroked him from inside out.
The aches and pains of the last few days drifted from his body as if they’d never existed. He reveled in the sudden relief, his cat relaxing as the hammering ache slithered from him. The lion stretched and purred, sliding through his mind in a newfound contentment.
He sensed his mate. Her ghost-like presence floated through him as if she’d always belonged there. Then again, she did. She was his mate, his one and only, and she was destined to share every part of him.
Possessiveness and want got his beast to its feet, the cat suddenly aware that its quarry was within reach. The cat couldn’t claim her physical body, but coating her in its mental scent was still available.
The lion padded through him, hunting up the scent of sensual sweetness that embodied Tess. It took moments to locate her within him, and he head butted her barely-there body. A giggle echoed through him, and then near-invisible hands dug into his fur, stroking and petting him. He rubbed his muzzle against her, making sure that he transferred as much of his pheromones onto her as possible.
She moved away. He followed, trailing after her like the lovesick cub he was. He knew that her physical body was close, but her mental presence was even closer. The cat’s purr grew with every step, every stroke of her hand across his fur, each scratch behind his ear. When she stopped, he stopped, mirroring her path, uncaring of her destination.
Nothing mattered but being near her.
“Harding?” Her lyrical voice echoed within him.
Could he respond to her?
“Yes, you can.” Another laugh. “Just think. Imagine you’re talking to me. I can hear you.”
This was a different Tess than the one that normally stood before him. Her happiness came easily, her smiles bright. She didn’t respond to his thought, and he hoped she hadn’t caught it in her web.
What are you doing? He tried speaking directly to her.
“Hunting. Gimme a sec.” Tess traveled deeper into him, striding along the twisting and turning hallways of his mind.
She went around one corner and the next, passing the various rooms where he’d tucked his memories. He kept them separate, hiding the experiences that he never wanted to revisit.
“Damn, Harding.” Tess stepped around a towering pile of papers, and the lion tripped over them as it passed.
A jarring tremble hit him, memories of high school overtaking him in a rolling wave. God, not them. He’d forgotten about those snippets. General daily bits weren’t bad, but there were parts. Parts that came after…
Instead of passing the mess by, Tess paused and turned toward them, hands outstretched, and Harding could do nothing but hold his breath. He didn’t know how to interact with her inside him, and the cat didn’t seem inclined to stop her.
Wait.
But she didn’t wait. No, she tucked a few together, glancing at the top page before reforming the stack, and then froze in place. Her body shook, chest rising and falling in an ever-increasing rhythm. She reached out for the lion, fingers digging into its fur, and slumped against the cat.
“Harding? Oh, God, Harding…” Her mental voice was hoarse and strained.
He shied away from what she reviewed. He knew each bit by heart, every hurt and burst of agony forever branded into his skin. The lion brushed against her, nosing her hands, and the sheaves flowed to the ground. A glance at her face revealed glistening tears, the shining droplets sliding over her cheeks, and he cursed his inability to create a human-shaped body within his own mind. He ached to tug her close, wrap her in his arms, and tell her that none of it mattered. Nothing beyond her was worth a thought. Every bit that had been broken was slowly healing now that he had his mate near.
“This…” Tess waved to the scattered remnants of his high school years. “This is so beyond…”
It doesn’t matter, Tess.
“How can you say that? How—?”
Her words were silenced by a stab of pain that rocketed through him. His cat roared in protest, snarling at their hidden enemy, and suddenly it wasn’t sweet Tess within him. She transformed. The tears disappeared, and the smiles she’d flashed moments ago were wiped away as if they’d never existed.
She looked feral now, all pretenses of civility banished with the new
attack on him. She spun on her heel and sped through the twisted halls of his mind, grumbling all the while. The cat, as well as his own consciousness, raced after her. The beast went from a gentle, loping run to an all-out sprint. She dashed around obstacle after obstacle, chasing his agony.
It was all mental, she’d given him those words before, but they did nothing to comfort the debilitating pain.
The lion roared, the sound shaking his memories, forcing doors long sealed to burst open. Now his past chased them as well.
They bolted around turns and sprinted until they emerged into the lion’s lair. The cat wasn’t encumbered by Harding’s memories. It lived in a space blessedly free of it all.
Tess spun, attention centered solely on the area surrounding them. “He’s here, Harding. Here. Someone dared trespass on what is mine…”
A rumbling growl shook him, even the cat crouching in agitation as the sound vibrated his entire world. The beast trembled with the rising intensity and Harding couldn’t blame it. The growl transformed into an inhuman roar that became an earthquake of noise and at the epicenter stood Tess. The timid smiles and shyness were gone, replaced by a woman that defied description. Her ethereal body solidified, the translucence filling until her body formed. She was bathed in glowing white light, the sight nearly blinding.
The crescendo of her roar deafened him while the glow stole his sight. As quickly as the pain began, it was suddenly gone, lost in Tess’s outrage. In an instant, the light disappeared, and darkness settled around them once again. Only…only Tess was no longer at the center of his world.
With a gasp, Harding opened his eyes and blinked against the sudden brightness. With reflexes borne of his cat, he managed to catch an unconscious Tess before she slumped to the ground. As if she were made of the thinnest glass, he held her close to him. His mind still reeled, not quite comprehending what had just occurred, but above it all, he knew Tess needed him.
Carefully, he rose and carried her to the small bed against the wall. His balance sucked, but he managed to get Tess to the soft surface without dropping her and falling on his face. Thank God for miracles.
