by Debra Kayn
Brage sat down, took off his boots. She stared at his arms, flexing with the movements he made. It was easier for her to have sex with him when he remained a stranger—a very sexy, hot stranger.
The arousal and warmth he had elicited from her before her world blew up and she became a captive in a bad situation were welcomed and embraced.
Her interest in him now felt wrong and unwanted. It angered her that her body would betray her.
Brage stood, stripped off his vest and shirt. When his hands went to his belt, she half turned away from him. She wasn't going to undress for bed in front of him with the lights on.
Concentrating on the pile of black garbage sacks at the foot of the bed that held the belongings she'd brought with her from Idaho, she tried to figure out how to get out of her work clothes and into a shirt and a pair of joggers without flashing all her bits to Brage.
The metal of his buckle hit the floor. She glanced in his direction and bit down on her lip.
He stood naked and unashamed in the room. "You need to strip down."
"Not with you in the room," she said.
"I don't have the time or energy to argue with you." He paused. "Take your clothes off. There's a towel, if you want, on the top of the dresser. Use that to cover up. I'll be in the hallway waiting for you when you're done."
Her gaze lowered. His cock remained relaxed.
She cleared her throat, hit with disappointment that she could no longer excite him and hating herself that the attraction between them was her first thought when she should be focusing on an escape.
The door opened. He walked out without a stitch of clothing on, closing the door. She waited for the click of the lock; afraid he'd shut her in the room alone for the night and hoping he would because being around him only confused her. When the door remained unlocked, she hurried to find something to sleep in and took off all her clothes.
Her panties landed on the floor.
The door opened.
Brage's gaze lowered to her toes and crawled back up her body. "Come on."
She crossed her arms over her bare breasts. "I'm not dressed yet."
"You're not supposed to dress." He stepped naked over to the dresser and threw her a towel. "Wrap that around you."
Heart hammering, she clung to the towel, tucking the edges above her breasts. "I'm not going out there like this."
"Listen, Dinah. My shoulders are killing me." He slipped his hand underneath her elbow and pulled her toward the door. "Since I can't leave you alone, you're going with me."
"But—"
"Enough. It's been a long fucking day. I need this." His hand tightened on her arm.
Naked as the day he was born, he guided her down the hallway to the other side of the second floor. Embarrassed at the lack of clothing on her in front of the others, she hurried to follow him, keeping behind his broad body.
He stopped outside a door. She glanced back counting the rooms. He hadn't taken her to the bathroom.
Brage swung open the door. She recognized the wood-lined room with benches for its intent. Slag Motorcycle Club had a sauna in the clubhouse.
Nothing about Slag surprised her anymore.
Stepping inside, she hugged the towel to her body. Someone must've used it recently because humidity hung in the air.
Brage picked up a dipper full of water and sprinkled it over a shallow metal box of rocks. Steam hissed, and he sat down on the wooden slated bench.
Already having a hard time breathing with him strutting around with no clothes, the hot air compressed down on her.
"Sit before you pass out." Brage let his head fall back against the wall.
His thick, strong legs gave new meaning to the word manspread. All the women complaining about how much room a man took up when sitting hadn't seen Brage. He had enough junk between his legs, he took up more property than most men when he sat.
Thinking he was right and she would faint at any second, she took the bench adjacent to him on the side of the room to keep an eye on him. She trusted him less when he was naked. Or, maybe she trusted herself less.
He'd kidnapped her. All attraction to him should've died away the second he installed locks on the other side of the bedroom and refused to let her leave.
The towel quickly became too much on her overheated body. Sweat formed between her breasts and ran down the corner of her temple. She wiped her forehead off with her hand.
Her eyeballs dried in the heat. She blinked rapidly feeling panic set in. The door remained closed.
Brage sat watching her. The air suffocated her.
"Inhale deeply," he said softly. "It's only air. Your chest will relax."
That was easy for him to say. He seemed perfectly content to walk naked through the clubhouse with others around and had apparently used the sauna many times before. Meanwhile, she felt drugged.
But that was impossible. The only food and drink she'd consumed were at the bar, and she'd hung an order slip on the wheel as if she were a customer. Peach wouldn't have known it was for her. That's how paranoid she'd grown throughout the day.
She leaned over and hung her head, hoping the rush of blood would snap her out of the fright circling her.
"When I was a young boy, I lived in Norway. I always remember walking out to the sauna—back home it was separate from the house—and getting warm and sleepy before bedtime. Then, my parents would walk my sisters and me outside, and we'd lay in the snow."
She kept her eyes closed. "Naked?"
"Ja." He chuckled. "It's better not to cover your skin. Healthier for you."
Panting, she pulled at the top of the towel and let the material fall from her body. The rush of air on her skin was like a balm to her overheated body.
"Better?"
She nodded, hugging her middle. Anyone could walk in. Having been around the Moroad bikers more than Slag, she assumed finding a naked woman inside the clubhouse would be like putting a sign around her neck that she was free for the taking.
She was not free.
"One more time." He stood, sticking the dipper into the bucket, and sprinkled the water over the hot rocks.
The instant steam that erupted had her pressing her back against the wall, forgetting about her naked body. She only wanted to put distance between her and the heat, which was rolling in her direction.
He sat down beside her instead of taking the other bench. She squinted straight ahead but not before she caught a glance at him. His long hair hung wet past his shoulders, and his cheekbones were flushed.
She couldn't move. It was physically impossible. "My skin feels tight."
"Ja," he murmured. "Do you trust me?"
"No." Her answer was instant. "Not at all."
"Fair enough. But, when we're done in here, you're going to thank me."
She turned her head and looked at him. "Why?"
"Because you're going to sleep like a baby. No dreams." He rotated his neck, tilting his head side to side.
"I don't dream." She wasn't willing to share that part of herself with him.
"If you say so," he mumbled.
She had a hard time believing that getting hot and sweaty would help her relax enough to sleep when he would be in the locked room making sure she couldn't escape. The steam had obviously made him delusional
Or, maybe he'd always been crazy, and she'd failed to notice because at the time he was busy making her feel good.
The steam thinned. Aware of him beside her, she pulled the towel in front of her and held it against her body.
"Let's go next door." Brage stood.
"I want to go back to the room." She wrapped the towel around her tightly, making sure the back covered her butt.
Cooler, thinner air rushed at her as Brage stepped out into the hallway. She sought the comfort outside of the room and inhaled deeply, more comfortable, almost giddy in relief. Embarrassment and frustration at Brage for strong-arming her to go in the sauna with him in her past, she let happiness from being away from t
he heat consume her.
Brage opened the next door. She stayed in the hallway, knowing it was the bathroom. While large, it was a singular use room, not a community restroom.
He reached back and grabbed her wrist. She had no way of fighting him in a towel. Voices came from a few doors down where Slag members stayed.
Noticing he never locked the door; she turned the simple lock. She would never get used to the blatant nudity around the clubhouse. It was easier to avoid looking at others she'd seen traipse down the hallway with no clothes on than deal with being naked herself.
Brage turned on the shower. Before she could figure if he planned to take a bath and why she needed to witness one of his private daily tasks, he picked her up and plopped her down under the spray of water.
Shock exploded inside of her. Her arms flailed, and she jolted, pushing to escape the freezing cold water. The surprise of going from suffocating hot in the sauna to bitterly cold broke something inside of her. She moved toward the warmth— which happened to be Brage.
She couldn't get close enough.
She couldn't get small enough.
Burying her head against his chest, she hopped from foot to foot, squeezing all air out between their bodies. She needed more of her skin touching him. She needed his comfort. She needed him to protect her.
Great sobs rocked her body. Unable to catch her breath, the wails coming out of her frightened her. She had no one to help her. She'd never had anyone. Always depending on herself, she couldn't even save herself.
"Mhm." Brage's lips moved against the top of her head. "I've got you."
Her legs weakened. He tightened his arm around her.
The cold no longer registered. This was her life. Pain, suffering, and lacking love, she'd often felt as helpless.
"Let's get you warmed now." Brage's body shifted.
The water temperature changed slightly. She gulped air to stop crying. The fight in her gone.
Standing with her eyes closed, aware of Brage washing her hair, her body, her mind pushed her away from what was happening.
When Brage wrapped a towel around her and walked her back to the bedroom, she paid no attention to see if he locked the door. She crawled into bed and collapsed into the softness.
Chapter 14
Dinah woke with a start. Peering in the darkness, she grabbed on to her bearings.
She was in Brage's room.
In the clubhouse where Brage lived.
Brage was beside her.
She panted for breath. The woman hovering above her was only in a dream.
Slowly taking the blanket off her, she scooted to the end of the bed and put her feet on the floor. She sat, trying to calm down. The dreams came more often lately. Stress always brought them back with a vengeance.
From experience, the remnants of the dream that left her floundering to understand the odd feeling inside of her would disappear once she came fully awake. She looked to the door. Stuck in the room and unable to leave only multiplied her stress.
"Bad dream?" asked Brage.
Her back stiffened. Living side by side, he noticed everything about her.
"It's nothing," she murmured.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Brage's voice deepened as he stretched on the bed.
She shivered. For as long as she could remember, anxiety plagued her when her defenses were down. During the day, she had no problems facing her problems and taking care of Brad and Tony. When she'd finally moved out on her own, she'd hoped the dreams would stop.
And, in some ways, they had. Unless she was under stress and in need of rest.
"I'm just..." She exhaled loudly, trying to relieve the tension. "I dream a lot when things are bothering me."
The mattress shifted. Brage's legs appeared on each side of her, and his hands landed on her shoulders. Situated behind her, he worked his fingers into the tight knots on the side of her neck.
"Close your eyes." He massaged her overworked muscles.
He contradicted himself too often for her to relax around him. She was still mad at him. He wanted to enjoy sleeping with her but kept her under lock and key.
If she had one person in her life who cared about her and her safety, he wouldn't be able to keep her here. The police would be knocking at the door looking for her.
But she was alone. Brad was in prison. Tony was deep in his own shit, he wouldn't or couldn't help her.
"Why does everything have to be so hard?" she muttered.
"You're making things more difficult for yourself than they need to be." He worked his thumbs down each side of her spine.
She arched her back. His manipulations hurt in a good way.
"Yeah, right." She grimaced, pressing back into his hands. "You're not me. Ever since I can remember, I've struggled. School was hard. Friendships were difficult. Every test caused me to panic. I couldn't even make sense of the rules of the road when it was time to get my driver's license on my fifteenth birthday, and no one would help me. Things were supposed to get easier, but trying to work to pay my rent when I've been laid off adds more stress. My brothers..."
"Your brothers...what?"
"Nevermind." She pulled away from his touch and stood, hating that she was blabbering and feeling sorry for herself. "You don't want to hear about me. You don't care."
She waited for him to disagree and tell her that he wanted to hear about her life. Instead, he stood from the bed and started dressing.
A soft glow shone on the curtain covering the window. It was late enough; she could get up for the day. She stood on the other side of the room, fully naked. The time to be self-conscious around Brage gone.
He'd used her, and to be fair, she'd used him. There was not a part of her he hadn't seen and enjoyed.
"I'll meet you in the kitchen for breakfast." He stayed by the door.
Feeling the heat of him looking at her, she glanced at him. What did he want from her? A thank you?
"Fine." She picked through her clothes looking for something to wear.
The door shut quietly, and she sighed. Somehow, she needed to find out what she could give Slag Motorcycle Club to gain her freedom. There had to be something they wanted, they'd be willing to let her go.
After visiting the bathroom, she went downstairs. The Slag members turned their heads. All eyes were on her.
Brage called her name. She hurried into the kitchen and sat down beside him at the table. She felt safer when he was the only one around. With the other bikers giving her judgmental looks, it made her accept that her situation was grimmer than she wanted to believe.
"Eat up." Brage poured her a glass of orange juice from the pitcher on the table.
She looked at the piece of toast with several things on the top sitting on the plate in front of her. Plucking a thin slice of radish off, she studied the items piled on the top.
"What is that white stuff?" she asked.
Brage wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand. "Herring."
"As in fish?" She wrinkled her nose. "For breakfast?"
"Ja." He held up his toast with the same things on it. "You don't like?"
"I've never had it."
"Try it."
There also appeared to be egg salad smeared across the top of the toast. None of those things went together.
She had a feeling it was either eat or go hungry in the Slag clubhouse. Putting the radish piece back on, she took a bite. Gingerly chewing, she waited for her gag reflex to kick in.
"Okay?" he asked.
She swallowed. "It's not bad."
It wasn't something she'd eat for breakfast. She leaned toward cereal or oatmeal, something cheap and easy.
Heather walked into the kitchen, spotted her, and smiled in excitement. "Well, good morning to you. You're becoming a regular here."
She covered her mouth with her hand, chewing her food. There was nothing good about today.
"Peach made breakfast." Brage pointed to the counter. "You've got cleanup."
&
nbsp; "Seriously?" Heather's shoulders sagged. "There's no way I'm the last one up. Where's Rune?"
"Outside," he said.
"Damnit. He's always the one stuck doing the cleanup. I was sure I'd beat him." Heather moved over to the fridge.
Losing her appetite, Dinah put the last couple of bites of toast on the plate and drank her orange juice. She was positive Heather had no clue she was being punished for spying on Slag and instead believed she was spending nights with Brage because she wanted to be with him.
She'd tried to broach the subject with Monica a couple of times at work, but Peer was always there stopping her. He'd made it clear that she was to have no secrets with the women who belonged to Slag members.
Brage brushed his hands over his beard and tied his hair back. She slid her hands under her thighs. At his will, she waited to find out what he needed of her.
"I'm going to go work on my Harley." He placed his hand at the back of her neck, squeezing gently.
She understood that he was trying to help her relax, but having his hands on her only wound her up tighter.
"Do you want to go in the alley with me?" He leaned back. "It's nice out. I can set a chair out there for you, and you can enjoy the sun."
She shook her head. What she wanted was time alone, away from the clubhouse. She wanted her Jeep. More than anything, she wanted to go back to Idaho.
Without giving her any instructions or telling her where to go, Brage left the kitchen. She looked over at Heather fixing herself the herring, egg salad, radish toast concoction.
Slipping out of the kitchen without Heather noticing, she walked back up the stairs and shut herself in the bedroom. Something had to give.
She had nothing to hand over to Slag in exchange for letting her go. Lying to them would only make her punishment worse.
A motorcycle revved up outside, penetrating the walls of the clubhouse. She yawned and curled up on the bed. The helplessness inside her dug its claws in and wouldn't let go.
Chapter 15
Peer slid a beer down the counter to Brage. He lifted the glass and knocked the road dust out of his mouth. Needing to take a shift riding security around the vicinity of the clubhouse for the last two hours gave him time to loosen up and clear his head.
