Twist My Heart

by Brooke Taylor

  Because we could do it all again if you need more.

  Terror turned her face stony as she steeled herself from the silent implication. The quiver in her spine was gone, along with the life from her eyes. “Rebecca is dead, Magister.”

  “Good. Because you’re going to help me get my fiancée back.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  A tickling skitter brushed my leg, waking me with a start to a pitch-black room. The last thing I remembered was being in Nik’s bathroom and trying the Ardent Oil Aimee had given me. I must’ve come into the bedroom and dozed off afterward. Dryness in my mouth swelled my tongue. I swallowed painfully and moved to sit up but my legs were bound. I thrashed in a panic. Shit. I took a deep breath. Only the sheet.

  A deep masculine groan erupted, followed by an airy yet explosive noise I couldn’t place. My eyes adjusted to the lack of light. Nik’s room took shape as a waft of rancid odor assaulted my nose. Oh God, please don’t let the smell have come from Nik. My fingers felt the bed, empty except for one very large, hairy beast with horrendously stanky breath. It probably felt and smelled the same, but at least it wasn’t Coop.

  “I see you left the boys, Titan. I guess Nik’s still with them, huh?”

  Titan grumble-growled as he rolled over, covering his eyes with his paw.

  “If those boys got you drunk, I’ll kill ‘em.”

  I fumbled my way through the bedroom and cracked the door open. The house sat silent and dark aside from a swath of pale white radiating from the great room. Padding quietly down the hallway, I spotted Nik, lit by the glow of a computer screen.

  I propped my shoulder against the hallway wall. “Not coming to bed?”

  He spun the chair toward me, leaning back as his gaze leisurely slid down my body. “If that is an invitation, you should know I sleep naked.”

  “You don’t need an invitation or a dress code—it is your bed.”

  He shot me a dimple. “My bed or not, vampire rules apply.”

  “That’s why you don’t sleep at night? You’re a vampire?” I grinned.

  “I wish, but no.”

  “So what are these vampire rules you live by, then?”

  His chin ducked as he flashed a shy, boyish smile. “When I started getting interested in girls, my dad set me down for the sex talk. But let’s face it, between movies and the internet, the cat was already out of the bag. Still, he wanted consent to be clear in my horned-up pea brain. I was into these paranormal books as a kid, so he used the vampire rule. A vampire can’t enter someone’s house unless he’s expressly invited in. Dad said vampire rules apply not only to a woman’s house, but her bedroom, any bed she is sleeping in—even if it is my own—and especially her body.”

  “Well, I would invite you…but right now the bed is occupied by one very stinky, passed-out German shepherd.”

  He crooked his finger and motioned me closer.

  I thrust my hands up in innocence. “I wasn’t the one who kept Titan up all night drinking and partying.”

  Nik’s face tightened as my surrender dragged the hem of his flannel shirt high up on my thighs.

  “Coop’s a dead man. First he cock-blocks me, then he gets a damn dog to do it.” He drew in a deep breath before running his eyes over me again. “You bought a whole new wardrobe. Why are you still wearing my shirt?”

  “Because I like feeling your things against me.”

  “My”—he arched a brow—“things.”

  “Want to trade this thing for another?” I fingered the top button open as I approached. “If we sleep naked here, I guess I don’t need it.”

  Nik growled. “Not in front of the cameras.”

  “You really need so many cameras?”

  He made wide eyes at me. “Regretting it now.”

  When I got close enough, he wrapped his arm around me and scooped me into his lap. Stroking his hand up my thigh, he slipped it under the shirt’s hem. As his fingers strummed my skin, he whispered how much he’d missed me against my ear. Soon his mouth, tasting like cinnamon and sugar, found mine for a kiss. I squirmed, clamping my lips together.

  His hands clasped my hips to keep me still on his lap. At his narrowed gaze, I explained, “You taste great and I should go brush my teeth.”

  Nik’s chuckle sounded manly and devilish as all hell. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  His open mouth ran from below my ear, down the nape of my neck. A blast of heat and goosebumps played across my skin as he nibbled at my shoulder. “In fact, you taste so good, I could eat you alive.”

  “Not in front of the cameras,” I mocked, eliciting another growl. “Should’ve come to bed earlier.”

  “I’m really, really sorry I left you alone all night. We weren’t exactly partying though. Coop wanted us to have a memorial of sorts for Will.”

  “Mr. Foxtrot?”

  “He died two months ago, during my last deployment. Coop couldn’t make it to the funeral and hasn’t gotten closure on it.”

  Nik’s mouth skimmed my shoulder, stopping on my neck with a soft kiss, as I asked, “Do you have closure?”

  * * * *

  Nik drew in a long breath, before purging the words “I don’t want closure” into Thea’s flesh. Did he really just admit that? Why? A simple ‘yeah’ or ‘I’m fine’ would’ve sufficed.

  Her arms encircled him, drawing tight. Slim fingers stroked up into his hair, easing his head deeper into the crook of her neck. He inhaled deeply. The fine grains of her scent polished down the harsh edges of his soul, numbing him and answering his question—Thea was why.

  She was here for him with her arsenal of painkillers. So much better than a stab of morphine to the thigh.

  Her arms cinched him in tighter, allowing him to relax against her strength, let go of some of his own. She didn’t ask for anything and he didn’t give her more for a long time. Breathing her in was enough. Trouble was, her essence was like truth serum. He wanted to confess all of his sins. Relive the worst days of his life, so she could tell him it was all okay, she was here now.

  Special Ops soldiers didn’t reveal the details of their working lives for a reason. But he needed to share this part of himself before he could tell Thea what he’d learned about her. She had to believe, trust, none of the horrible realities or unconscionable truths in her life would change how he saw her, how he felt about her.

  Lifting his head from her shoulder, he leaned back in the chair. Under the pretense of a caress, he circled her wrist with his fingers, slipping his thumb over her pulse. In the recesses of his mind, he kept track of its rhythmic beat.

  “After the tornado, you asked if I was a doctor. I’m a corpsman—a combat medic. When things go bad, really bad, my teammates trust me to help them.” His own pulse ramped up as images of Will dying, begging for help, came rushing back. Nik swallowed, his mouth painfully dry. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

  “Coop said he wouldn’t be alive without your blood in him. That’s what he meant? You saved his life.”

  She wasn’t pushing for more on Will and the reprieve calmed him. Maybe this was a better place to start, anyways. Nik forced a grin. “Battlefield blood transfusions are just one of my many party tricks. Several years ago, we were in a really bad spot. Thankfully, I’d only ever had to give Coop hangover IVs. No matter what happened—shot, stabbed, general bullshit—he’d pack his own wounds with whatever he had on him, mud if nothing else, and carry on. Hearing Coop calling for me…praying for me to put him out of his misery like some kind of wounded animal… He must’ve truly believed he was going to die. It’s the oddest thing—the ones who will make it always think they are dying. They beg for me to make it quick. It’s the ones who plead to be saved…”

  God. Nik would give anything to not hear those desperate cries for help sounding in his mind. Hell on fucking earth…

  “Will.” Thea didn’t pose it as a question needing an answer. It was the answer.

  Nik closed his eyes, but the scene was too vivid t
o keep them shut. “I could’ve…” He faltered.

  “From the start,” she whispered.

  “The start… We were on a fairly common mission. Supposed to be easy. Nothing stood out as hinky. We exited our vehicle, I maneuvered, and pop, the guy next to me drops to the ground with a hole in his head.”

  “You didn’t know you were being shot at?”

  “Sniper. Shit goes south fast. Millimeters between you and someone else.”

  “You think it should’ve been you and not Will?”

  “The bullet probably had been aimed at me, but no, this guy was an asset the CIA had been working in country helping us track a HVT, um, High Value Target. He gave us bad intel and sent us into an ambush…a death trap. Guess he didn’t count on karma being such a bitch or his friend being such a bad shot. My team got into a safe position and we were able to suppress the fire and go after them. I knew Will had been hit, but he said he was fine. I should’ve checked him over. I could’ve…but, I…”

  The words ‘didn’t save him’ came up like zombies from their burial graves. They were followed by many more words which had never found their way into any After Action Report or forced therapy sessions. Not the place nor the people involved nor the mission details. Those were all, in fact, classified. Thea wouldn’t have cared about those parts anyway, nor did he need to share them. It was the things the government didn’t give a shit about—how fucking helpless he felt, how responsible for Will’s death, every horrific detail of Will’s last moments—festering like an infection inside of him.

  “When I got back to Will, it was too late. He’d lost too much blood by then and knew he was dying. I should’ve checked his wound before. He’d told me it wasn’t bad and QRF, um, Quick Reaction Force was en route. But he wasn’t fine.”

  She didn’t bother with declarations of how nothing he could’ve done differently would’ve saved Will. Buried deep beneath the tornadic debris of her memory loss, she must’ve known those kinds of reassurances wouldn’t help. She had to have been told the same after her sister had been drug away before her very eyes. If anyone understood how accepting the horrible truth—enough hadn’t been done—meant more, it would be her.

  He chased the bitter pill of Will’s final moments with a litany of other regrets from the Godawful day. Which abso-fucking-lutely trod deep into classified territory. Nik didn’t care. Not about it being classified and not about her knowing the violent side of him. Nik could handle Thea hating him because of the truth, but he couldn’t live with her believing he was someone he wasn’t.

  “The rest of the Team had the tangos, um, terrorists, surrounded. I put Will in the helo for evac and went for the sniper. I wanted the guy who killed Will to suffer. I wanted him to know he would die, like Will did. So I engaged him in a way…”

  “You made it look like self-defense?”

  “Something like that.” He expected her to recoil in horror at the revenge he’d taken, but neither disgust nor shock ever saturated the empathy in Thea’s eyes.

  Her only response was the whispered truth, “Some scales are never meant to balance no matter how much we need them to.”

  She said it in a way only someone who knew one life would never equal another could. And yet, she still had no memory of why she’d know such a heartbreaking reality. Danny Dalton’s murder while in prison probably hadn’t given her any comfort. Why should it when it couldn’t bring back her sister or her father?

  Thea shifted under his scrutiny and silence, reaching around him to adjust the monitor. “You’ve been researching the tornado?”

  Thankful for the distraction, Nik nodded. “There were three fatalities. Two males and a female.” Which wouldn’t have been a concern, except the red-haired girl he had found dead under Thea’s truck wasn’t among those listed.

  “I was lucky you found me.”

  “You can thank Titan.” Nik drew in a long breath. He’d avoided talking to Thea about all the things he’d found out about her past, but the time had come when he needed her to know. “I’ve also been researching you.”

  “I figured.”

  “I’d only been able to get so far on my own, but Leo helped me for a while before he went on to bed.”

  “You told Leo about me? Coop, too?” Thea’s body stiffened and her face blanched as she slid off his lap and stood. “I don’t know them. I don’t trust them.”

  “You don’t have to. You only need to trust me.”

  She leveled her eyes, her deep coppery irises exploring his. “You found out something bad. I can tell.”

  Nik didn’t try to charm her or turn her body into a molten pool of need. Two things he could’ve easily distracted her by doing. “Would you prefer the good news first?”

  “It would be a nice change of pace.”

  His fingers reached out and wrapped her wrist to find her pulse kicking hard, thrashing in fear. This scared her. Trust. Truth. Herself.

  “Good news is you’re not a fugitive anymore.”

  He couldn’t hold back a grin as her eyes lit up. She wasn’t going to like the next part, though.

  She plucked her bottom lip with her teeth, worried. “And the bad news?”

  Chapter Thirty

  “The bad news is you’re dead.”

  “Dead,” Thea repeated. “I don’t understand.”

  “As of last night, Thea Gale was officially listed as one of three fatalities in the Colby tornado.”

  “So I’m not Thea Gale?”

  “You’re Thea Gale. And you’re dead. Doesn’t make much sense, seeing as how your body is right here with me.” Nik grinned as he reached out and trailed his fingertips along her knee. She sidestepped beyond his reach, forcing him to lift his teasing eyes to her questioning ones. “Do you remember what I said the night you so sweetly accused me of being a serial killer?”

  “If you wanted to kill me, you would’ve made it look like the tornado had.”

  “God, you really are quick, smart.” Nik sighed as his visual appraisal slid down the length of her body. “So fucking sexy.”

  “And dead, apparently,” Thea stated flatly, reminding him to stay on track. Admittedly, his focus had wandered back to the curve of her inner thigh and was heading on a due north trajectory at an accelerated pace. With a hooked finger, she caught his chin and lifted it until his eyes met hers again. “Why would someone want people to think I’m dead?”

  The sex haze fizzing in his brain cleared a bit at her directness.

  “Good question. If it were me, the answer would be a simple one. If everyone believed you’d died in an accident, then I could kill you anywhere, any way, any time I wanted.”

  She swallowed. “How comforting.”

  Nik gathered her back into his lap without resistance. As much as he enjoyed holding her close again, he hated seeing Thea defeated. He dropped a kiss to her forehead. “No one is going to kill you, Tigger. You’re with two SEALs, a Leo, and an attack dog. I’d say you’re about the safest woman in America right now.”

  “A passed-out attack dog, a passed-out SEAL who kind of hates me, and another one who hasn’t slept in three days. I don’t feel very safe.”

  “Ouch. You’re just being mean.” He had to laugh at the honest assessment though. “I guess we’ll count on Leo then. He’s kind of badass in his own, non-lethal way. If you call getting in a cage and beating the shit out of people for lots of money and sports drink endorsements badass.”

  “Someone wants me dead. I’m glad you find it funny, but this scares the shit out of me.”

  The worry hanging over Thea’s features turned Nik’s gut.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t find it funny. I’m confident in your safety. Death and death threats have been an everyday part of my life for a long time. They might be a part of yours, too. I have a theory, if you’re willing to indulge it?”

  “What does a dead girl have to lose?”

  “Everything. Which is why I want to test my theory.” As much as it pained him to say it,
he told her, “Put some pants on. You’ll need them for where I’m taking you.”

  While Nik thoroughly enjoyed the body-conscious yoga pants Thea had returned in after brushing her teeth, they wouldn’t be nearly warm enough in the high country at night. “Come with me. You’re going to need to bundle up more than that.”

  He soon had her buried under an oversized white ski coat and shell pants. She looked like an adorably sad Stay Puft Marshmallow Man who’d had gastric bypass. His cock didn’t care. Thea’s soft, curvaceous body awaited it under all that billowing Gore-Tex.

  She grimaced as she slowly descended the stairs in the oversized snow boots one of Nik’s smaller-footed friends had left behind. He led her through the walkout basement and paused at the armored door as his fingers tapped out the appropriate sequence to unlock it. With a shove, the heavy door opened inward as the automatic lighting flipped on. Walls of guns and knives glinted in return. “Welcome to my Red Room.”

  “It’s black,” she said, noting the paint color of what little of the walls could be seen behind all the gun racks and ammunition shelves.

  “From the book or movie, the guy… Grey has a red room? It was a popu… Sorry, forgot about the memory loss thing.” Nik tossed his jacket onto the table.

  “Does his room have all this?” Thea asked as she slid her fingers from a FN PS90 with halo sights to a Mossberg 590 to the FN Scars and AKs.

  “No. His has leather shit, ropes, and whips.”

  A hint of recognition flashed over her features, but all she said was, “Sounds like a tack room.”