Not really, I told myself, and fuck no.
I watched him laugh and raise a beer, swallow it down with the drip of condensation from his wrist staining his light gray shirt, with the solid way he filled out shirt and pants enough to even make me check him out. He was a man underneath that skin.
When he left to order a new round of beers, Georgia leaned back toward me. “You’re married?”
“Well.” Here was where that compulsion to conceal wrecked the truth in my reply. “Sort of.”
“A couple, hey? You’ve got a catch there then.” Her lips twitched in bemusement. “He is hot.”
Her girlfriend chuckled. “Not mincing words today, are we?”
Georgia swished that long hair and chortled too. “You know me. I call a hottie a hottie.”
“He is way out of your league, girls.” I said it to chase them off, of course, mostly for their own protection.
I raised my own cold glass of beer and silently toasted him as he walked back bearing alcoholic gifts for all.
The cheers rose, and people started in with the what’s this country like compared to yours sort of questions.
I answered them, even the old guy in the cowboy hat who called us yanks and looked as if he’d been in the last world war.
Then Isak placed his hand on my thigh. That was sufficient to make me want him. He’d been abstaining from truly fucking me. Was that a strategy of his? Probably.
Damn this. I wriggled my butt on the stool and half-wished he’d remove his hand, half-wished he would do more, somewhere, maybe once we reached the ute. Or before, against a building. My mind was so fogged, after that I barely noticed what was said to me.
Bastard. He was doing things. I scowled at him and he smiled and squeezed my leg, slid that hand up my thigh.
I shivered into a higher appreciation of lust.
When we left, I found out we had booked horse-riding lessons because of that pub conversation, and had a date to see a rodeo, when it came in a few weeks.
Isak unlocked the door to our stolen run-down vehicle and gestured like a chauffeur to the door. “Enter, milady.”
What was this? Was the local humor rubbing off on him? I slid in, and he leaned on the top of the door to talk to me. “There is a distinct leaning toward kink with her friend, Katie.”
Oh shit. I swung my gaze and found he’d locked on. I couldn’t think for a moment. Mesmer mode.
“The pill?” I managed to squeak out.
“Ah. It is due. Was. In my jacket.” He’d thrown it onto the footwell.
I was free of that mindlock. Panicking a little, I found the Keppra and punched out one pill, handed it to him then watched him swallow without water. Then I found myself wondering whether beer would interfere with the effect.
“As I said. The Katie one was interesting. I will be running that clue down. You want to go to one of those play sessions they have, don’t you?”
I nodded. What else could I do?
“Good, Good.” He sucked on his teeth. “It’d be fun to show you off to them.”
“Oh.” Fuck. My clit pulsed, slammed a tide of ecstasy through me, and I gasped. That pill would take a while to slide into his system.
“There are things beyond human comprehension.” He reached in and fingered the side of my neck as carefully as an executioner.
That sounded so evil. I shuddered, and I came.
It never ever left him. The pills only masked him.
“Time to go home. I like this place.” He strolled around the front of the ute and opened his door, slid in, slammed the door, started the engine.
Me, I was panting with my eyes opening then closing, watching him, feeling the aftereffects of being forced into orgasm like a piece of lumber shoved through a woodchipper.
“Fuck,” I swallowed, panted some more, let my head flop back.
“See how nice I can be.”
We peeled away from the footpath, drove a kilometer out of town where he pulled over in a shaded spot, ordered me from the car so he could wrench down my jeans. The button flew off into the grass. He screwed me over the hood of the car, grunting. My open mouth smeared drool on the paintwork.
The pill was taking way too long to work.
When he dropped me into the undergrowth and placed his foot on my neck as he zipped up, I barely noticed the mouthful of grass.
“I’m getting lax. I haven’t fucked you with a stick for months or whipped you while you masturbate. Or strung you upside down from the rafters. Stuck needles in you.” He shook his head in disgust at himself.
Luckily, by the time we reached the house he was calming.
He strangled the wheel once the engine was off, then punched it hard over and over. My heart thudded and thudded so loudly. Fear, this was fear, again. He looked to me, studied me as if I were alien to him.
“I’m sorry.” He lay back into the seat headrest and sighed. “Really. You might not believe this, but I am.” He turned his head. “You’re a strong person. Don’t give up on me.”
Fuck. Fuck! This scared me more than before. So different to what he had been like for years, my mind went skitter-skating around, unable to comprehend.
That could still be lies. It has to be lies.
Lies I could deal with.
My heart was thudding even louder in my ears.
A thank you – was that what he expected?
Then he added, “Fucking you though…” He dragged me to him and examined my partly naked state. My jeans had been left by the side of the road. My shirt was unbuttoned to halfway down, and my panties were missing too – mild for him. “Yeah. Not sorry for that.”
He caressed my face then gently kissed me on the mouth.
When he slowly stuck his fingers between my lips and whispered suck, I may have had tears rolling down my face but, god, I loved it, loved doing it while he avidly watched every motion of my mouth and lips. A tear ran down my face, then another.
Maybe, perhaps, he was actually changing? It threw several spanners and a whole slew of wreckage into the works. There might be hope. I’d been saying that to myself but hadn’t believed it.
“You are such a good girl, Red.”
The pills were crucial.
* * * * *
Jacob: What have you got?
Dan: There’s a vid circulating of a guy who saved a kid from falling off a cliff, and I think it’s our man. I’ll send it now. There.
Jacob: Got it. Heyyy. That’s him. Good work! If I need more from you, be ready. Ted will be fucking happy.
Dan: Great. Check that partial rego. That might do it. I’ll be ready fer sure.
CHAPTER 18
RED
The country must run on slower time than the city, for the days sifted by and Isak also slowed. He spent mornings sitting out on the wide verandah, throwing the ball for Banjo and checking the sky for eagles, or the bush nearby for kangaroos.
Watching that ball go flying and bouncing, then our mad cattle dog tear off after it and the ensuing soft words and pats when he returned it to Isak…
It made me wonder what was happening.
We went horse riding – which means we tried the gentlest mounts available and bounced around and suffered from sore rear ends afterward. We also stayed in bed and screwed, painted the walls, and messed about in the town. Sometimes we went further afield shopping for groceries when the local store was lacking.
We made casual friends, and I ensured that drug kept circulating inside Isak on a rigid, twice-daily schedule.
Golem was still his default emotional state. This was not a novel thing, but I also saw him laugh, most often when wrestling the dog. Banjo developed a habit of trying to herd any cows that sneaked through the fence. A loose area of wire was discovered by a few of them and they would stray. We – that is me, Isak, and Banjo – would carefully herd them back through the gate.
Today was no different. I looked up at a shout, and spotted Banjo circling and snapping at the heels of the orneriest
cow. Isak waved his cowboy hat at her. I recognized her by a patch of white on her head. If you ventured into the paddock, she would take a run at you.
Banjo ducked in again – heel nipping and herding was instinctive in his breed.
The cow kicked backward and connected, sending the dog tumbling and yipping. I’d never heard that noise before, and I shot to my feet. He struggled to stand.
Isak sprinted out, trying to shoo the cow off the poor dog. He picked up Banjo and was heading my way when the cow decided to charge.
“Run!” I grimaced then stopped breathing, anticipating the contact.
The thud as she whacked into his side and threw him sprawling was loud enough for me to hear it from the house.
Rifle. I whipped inside and grabbed it from where Isak had placed it, hidden near the door and then I ran out, in an arc to the side. I paused, hesitating as I wondered about safety. With a round in the chamber, I drew a bead on the cow as it circled in, and I figured she planned to stampede over man and dog where they lay in a heap. Banjo wriggled loose and leaped up to growl at the oncoming cow.
She trotted slowly, snorting, head lowered.
Shoot her?
This was something I’d practiced years ago, with the sole purpose of killing Isak.
She sped up, galloping in, dirt flying. No choice. I squeezed the trigger and felt the kick to shoulder and ears as the round sped on its way. The cow stumbled and slid to one knee. A second shot to the chest must have reached the heart because she lay down nose first, plowing dirt. I trotted up, rifle held high, finger off the trigger.
A second later she stilled. Dead.
Despite my reasons, I felt the twist of regret for killing her, but I swung to check on the wounded.
“You okay?” I jogged faster. Banjo came to me, and the slight limp in his gait seemed all that remained of his battle with the dread beast.
Isak levered himself onto his side, groaning. “Slow. Jesus! That hurt. You were slow, woman.”
My heart flip-flopped, half because he was alive, half because I… what? Liked being called woman? I frowned at myself. “Here.” I put out my hand out.
“Where were you when Assassin Cow was after me? Ouch, fucking ouch.” He climbed to one knee, balanced there with a hand on his side, a hand on the ground. “But thank you.” A stick thrust up from his shirt. Hell, no, that was through it, blood welling onto the cloth. “I landed on this. Fuck, it hurts.”
To my utter amazement, I was worried he might be badly hurt. My nemesis, hurt.
But he wasn’t quite that anymore.
I slung the rifle over my shoulder and leaned in to look more closely, then I helped him rise. He staggered, straightened with a grimace, then unbuttoned his shirt and slowly extracted that damn stick from his flesh.
“What! Wait!” Should I stop him? Could I?
It was straight and gleamed dark red, and about the length of a man’s hand. Only a little blood seeped from the hole. So neat was the entry wound, it might have been punched by a tool.
I might know first aid and CPR and all, but this made me nauseous.
“We need a doctor for that.”
“No doctors. The nearest is male.” So he couldn’t control him. “I will heal. You know I heal.” He leaned on me, and we returned to the house.
Maybe I did. The grazes from the cliff rescue had been gone in two days. “This could have penetrated something vital. Like your liver… or worse.”
“It hasn’t.”
“Huh. Antibiotics then.”
He grunted. “We have some. Got them off that pharmacist, in case of emergencies like this.”
I had no idea when that was, but I could see he would not budge.
Banjo whined at this human strangeness, at the slowness of our walking and the painful grunts from his master. He got in the way, but apart from stiffness he seemed fine. I would have him checked by the local vet, later.
Once we were inside, he limped to his food bowl and ate some kibble. That must be a good sign.
Isak sat on a chair and let me clean the hole, pick out the bits of bark and dirt and then bandage it.
Then he lay down in bed for a day and a night and a day.
The dog stayed with him, even sneaking up onto the quilt when he could – apart from allowing me to feed him and following Isak when he hobbled to the bathroom. Georgia came by to peer at the patient. She ordered in some men to haul away the carcass. We were not to blame apparently, as the cow was a known psycho.
If only we had been told. What’s done is done.
* * * * *
Dan: We found the vehicle. We stuck a tracker on it.
Jacob: Good. Hold on a sec. I’ll get orders.
Dan: Yep.
Jacob: Boss says keep watching. Find out everything you can. Addresses. Phones. People. He switches cars a lot so be ready for that if it happens. More to come.
* * * * *
When I least expected it, Isak rose like a miracle from bed and entered the kitchen, where I was puzzling over a recipe for something called Toad in the Hole. I’d found an ancient cookbook on a shelf above the fridge.
He picked me up, sat me on the kitchen bench and said quietly. “Thank you for saving me from the cow.”
I snorted. “Said so nicely too. You should not be lifting anything heavy.” So, I was the cow savior. I peered into his icy blue eyes and saw nothing new there, but his actions, his words, those were kind. “Who is in there now, Isak?”
“You said my name.” His lips quirked. “I like that.”
“I do too.” I was so screwed. “Strangely.”
I wasn’t sure of anything. I’d been waiting for some damning, horrible, evil thing to be done to me. It was his way. Always.
“I want to look under that bandage.”
While he stood in front of me, I sat on a chair in the kitchen and removed the dressing. This was a wound I would swear should have – according to Google – caused internal damage. It was now no more than a scab surrounded by dark pink tissue. A stick had gone in there. Any deeper and it would have been projecting from his back.
“Damn. So clean.”
“That’s me. Clean.”
I laughed. Ohmigod, I’d laughed at his joke. He made a joke. It felt like a milestone.
Your toddler took his first steps today? Well, my evil fucking monster guy made a fucking joke. Beat that.
Shirtless, he stretched his arms toward the ceiling, making his muscles lengthen and shift. He groaned in relief.
“Much better.”
I dared to reach and touch him, gently stroking over that wound. He shivered as if tickled, and I smirked.
“I found your weakness? Tickling. You are—”
He caught my hand and stopped me.
I looked up and whispered, “Like some dark superhero. That healed way too fast.”
“More like a supervillain.” Thoughtfully, he pulled my hand to his lips and kissed it, while giving me a very villainous under-the-brow stare.
That had not been a threat. An amused remark, I guess?
“Yes.”
The quiet note in that conversation drifted along for the rest of that day, and still I felt as if a thunderstorm was in the offing. Fire and brimstone, danger and evil and corruption must be brewing past the horizon.
Yet, even if my list had been sidelined, I was certain Isak was turning into something better. I had written out that list and pinned it to a cupboard in the kitchen, and I hadn’t seen him look at it once.
Not that I’d ever been sure it was the be all and end all of being a good person.
I prayed… and I did not really ever pray… that he would become something good. On a few nights, in bed with him snoring beside me, tears silently leaked as I considered this.
I liked this, and I was beginning to think I liked him, as he was. Now.
On a Tuesday afternoon, we drove to a creek on the remote corner of another property, twenty minutes away. We’d arranged it with the owner, and n
o one would disturb us. The creek looped in then out again to enter an adjoining farm. Banjo was left behind. He was too bruised to run about, which he would have done if we had brought him – as well as chase the cows, sniff butterflies, and stalk our picnic food. Georgia had promised to look in on him.
The wire fence went into the water and climbed the banks where this property ended and another began, and the cattle could reach the water and drink from it. Mature ghost and paperbark gums shaded the creek, flickering leaf-dappled light on the water. Some cows grazed under the trees near us, as we set up a picnic on the bank.
“Hmmm.” The champagne was in the ice bucket, which was really a plastic container, but ice is ice. The food was on a platter—
“All done.” Isak dropped his sunglasses onto the hamper. “And you’re wearing too much. Strip for me until I say stop.”
“Are we going swimming?” I tongued the inside of my mouth. Neither of us had a bathing costume, but I was being deliberately naive.
“Not yet.” He toed straight the picnic blanket, then sat opposite me on the blanket and crossed his legs. That smile… it was becoming more and more frequent.
Strip for me. Those erotic words sent a shiver through me. As always, I tried to ignore it. He knew the effect he had on me, and sex was never far from his mind, even with the drug regulating his worst impulses.
Horndog, yes. Or avid lover. Or Casanova. Choose one.
Sex was never far from my mind, either.
For once I’d not worn the de rigueur T-shirt and jeans or shorts of country life. I shucked my black trainers – pumps were hopeless on the uneven ground – then plucked at the hem of the dress, only to be hissed at.
A finger was waved. “Slowly. Much more slowly. I want to enjoy this.”
A million times, more or less, he’d seen me naked.
“But… there is only this. And these.” I flipped the hem, then slipped a hand beneath, pushing up the side of the dress to pluck at my panties. “And the bra.” Tease, tease. I traced my finger over the contours beneath the bodice, lifting my breasts a tad, as if they had accidentally fallen in the way of my drifting hand. His gaze sharpened. “You?” I raised an eyebrow as I nudged the dress strap off one shoulder. It slipped down my arm.
The Book of Red: ISAK & Red and bonus prequel Used Page 19
