“So, I’m just going to use the bathroom now,” Samantha said, gesturing weakly towards what she really hoped was the bathroom door.
When he didn’t say anything, she mumbled, “Okay then,” to herself, nodded and stood up only to realize that he planned on joining her when he also stood up.
Clearing her throat, she said, “I’ll just be a few minutes.”
When he continued standing there, glaring at her, she glanced around the room and sighed with relief when she spotted the television on the wall. Deciding to buy herself a little time, she grabbed the remote off the nightstand and-
Realized that she probably should have warned him that she was going to do that when he released a vicious growl that had her fumbling with the remote control, trying to shut the television off and frantically yelling, “It’s not real! It’s not real! Oh, my god! It’s not real!”
When it wouldn’t shut off, and god, why wouldn’t it shut off? She threw the remote aside, dropped to the ground, wrapped her arms over her head, squeezed her eyes shut, and-
“Who’s Craig?” the man that she’d kind of been expecting to rip her throat out asked, making her frown.
“What?” Samantha asked, slowly opening her eyes and risking a peek to find Trace glaring down at her.
“Who is Craig, wife?” he demanded, as she tried to figure out how to answer that question.
“I’m sorry, what’s this now?” Samantha asked, blinking up at him.
“You talk in your sleep, wife,” he explained as he folded his arms over his chest and continued to glare down at her.
“I, umm, I see,” she murmured as she reached up and rubbed the bridge of her nose as she did her best not to wince because she did see. She’d been talking in her sleep since she was little and while it normally wasn’t a problem, sometimes things came out that were better left unsaid.
“Who is he, wife?” Trace asked as she dropped her hand away with a sigh and-
“Oh, I love the way your cock feels,” came the unexpected announcement that had them both frowning as they turned their heads and-
“Oh, my god,” Samantha mumbled weakly when she saw what was on the television.
“Me, too,” the busty brunette on all fours said as Samantha reached over and she found herself cursing as she pulled herself up and dove for the remote only to have Charlie get to it first.
“It’s so big!”
“Just looking at it is making me wet!”
“Charlie!” Samantha bit out in warning, as she reached for the remote only to have the little bastard roll over onto his back and pull it out of her reach.
“Give it to me, you little bastard,” she bit out as she was forced to grab hold of his muzzle and after some glaring, mumbling, and, much to her embarrassment, pleading, he dropped it on the bed. Before he could make a second grab for it, she had it in her hand and was frantically trying to change the channel.
“Why don’t you stick it in my-”
“Oh, look, the History Channel!” Samantha said brightly as she gestured somewhat awkwardly towards the television only to find Trace glaring at her again.
“Who is he, woman?”
Worrying her bottom lip, she gestured weakly towards the television. “Shouldn’t you be focused on the small humans trapped inside the box?” she asked with a hopeful smile only to toss the remote back on the bed with a sigh and head for the bathroom when he continued to glare.
“He was my fiancé,” she reluctantly admitted when it became obvious that he wasn’t going to let it go.
“What’s a fiancé?” Trace asked as he moved to follow her into the bathroom, but she wasn’t in the mood for an audience.
“Betrothed,” she said, waving it off before she closed the door behind her and-
Groaned when she saw her reflection in the mirror.
Her hair was a ratted mess, a purple bruise had already formed on her right temple, her clothes were wrinkled, and she’d never looked hotter, she thought wryly with a sad shake of her head that she cut off in mid-motion when the move made her headache worse. Biting back a sigh, she unsnapped her jeans and made her way to the toilet. Once she was there, she dropped her aching head in her hands and realized that she was going to have to explain personal boundaries to the large man who clearly didn’t believe in them.
“You were betrothed?” he demanded, somehow managing to sound angrier than Nathan had when he’d found out.
“Is there any chance that we could have this conversation when I’m not sitting on the toilet?” Samantha mumbled into her hands, not really surprised when he said, “No.”
“I was,” she said, sighing as she did her best to pretend that he wasn’t there, which wasn’t exactly difficult with the way that her head was starting to feel.
“Where is he?”
“Most likely catching something that’s going to require a shot of penicillin,” she mumbled absently, finishing before she managed to pull her pants up and stumbled her way to the sink.
“Are you untouched?” he asked after a slight hesitation.
“Is that a deal-breaker?” she couldn’t help but ask, sounding hopeful only to feel her shoulders slump when his eyes turned red and a soft growl filled the large bathroom.
When a second growl immediately followed the first, Samantha decided to focus on washing her hands with the hope that he would forget about his homicidal needs by the time that she was done.
He wasn’t.
Done, that was.
So, she focused on something else, namely doing something about her appearance. Realizing that she’d left her bag outside, Samantha searched through the drawers and cabinets looking for a bottle of Advil or something that she could use only to resign herself to making a trip back out to her car after all when the only thing she found was a drawer full of new toothbrushes and boxes of toothpaste.
Sighing, she turned around only to decide that this was fine, more than fine when he narrowed those red eyes on her. After selecting a green toothbrush and a fresh tube of mint toothpaste, she brushed her teeth, taking her time as the reality of her situation slowly hit and when it did…
Samantha realized that she didn’t care.
She didn’t care that everything she owned was gone along with the house that she sank every dime that she had into or that she’d most likely been fired from a job that she hated and that…that was actually depressing. She was twenty-nine years old and she had absolutely nothing to show for it other than a brother who she barely saw and a dog that hated her. She couldn’t help but wonder why she’d settled for a life that she hated.
She’d never planned on coming back here after she’d graduated, didn’t have any reason to with her father gone and Nathan in the Marines. She wasn’t even sure how it happened. One day, everything that she’d worked so hard for was about to come true and the next, she was moving back to a town that she hated and taking a job where everyone thought that she was a joke and…
She should have left a long time ago, Samantha realized, shaking her head in disgust as she rinsed off her toothbrush and moved to place it next to the sink only to have it plucked from her hand. Still wondering how she’d managed to screw her life up this badly, she handed him the toothpaste and moved to the other sink so that she could wash her face while she tried to figure out why she’d stayed when there was nothing for her here.
After Craig left her, she should have just left, but instead she’d settled into a life that she hated, she thought as she ran her fingers through her hair, trying to tame the impossible only to wince when her fingers encountered a tangled knot that had somehow managed to wrap itself around her necklace and-
“Here,” Trace said softly as he gently brushed her hands away and ran his fingers through her hair before she could stop him, and once he started, she didn’t want him to stop.
It felt so good, Samantha thought as she stood there, feeling herself relax with every soothing caress of his fingers through her hair as he worked her necklace fr
ee. It had been so long since someone touched her, Samantha realized even as she had to admit that she’d never been touched like this, like she was cherished. Craig had certainly never touched her like this. With Craig, it had been cold touches and the obligatory hug goodbye in the morning. When they’d made love, and she wasn’t even sure that she could call it that, it had left her feeling…alone.
It never made her feel like this, Samantha thought as she opened her eyes to find Trace watching her through beautiful green eyes as he slowly ran his fingers through her hair. When his gaze shifted to the large bruise on her temple, those beautiful eyes turned red as he gently swept her hair out of her face. His gaze softened as he traced his fingertips along her temple and said the words that made her feel safe for the first time since this whole thing started.
“I’m never going to let anything happen to you.”
Chapter 19
Devil Hills, Idaho
“As much as I had my heart set on a June wedding, I think I’d be willing to settle for something in September,” the large asshole sitting next to him said, looking thoughtful as he shoved another piece of steak in his mouth.
“We could honeymoon in Paris,” Jacob said absently, as he shifted his attention to the cart overflowing with steak dinners, Cokes, and desserts that the little brat ordered for him.
“And I could fucking kill you,” Ethan reminded him as he reached for another bag, a cold bag, of blood and stuck it to his teeth as he continued to glare at the large bastard that was clearly enjoying himself.
“This really is the best day ever,” Jacob said with a wistful sigh as Ethan sat there, ignoring the pain tearing through his bones as they slowly mended while the small woman that was going to pay for handcuffing him to a fucking shifter was in the other room, taking a bath, and singing off-key to a fucking Justin Bieber song.
“She’s fucking adorable,” the shifter said with a heartfelt sigh that was going to get him killed.
Ignoring the large bastard as he ate and sighed dreamily, Ethan forced himself to continue drinking until he felt the last broken bone snap back in place and his full-strength return. As he tossed the empty bag in the wastebasket that she’d placed next to the bed, he watched her as she walked back into the room, wearing one of his shirts and absently humming to herself as she carried the slice of apple pie that she hadn’t finished over to the shifter.
Without a word, Indie handed the plate to Jacob and made quick work of cleaning up his mess and pushing the cart outside the room. When she was done, she took the empty pie plate from the large bastard smiling like an idiot and placed it outside on the cart. Once she was done, Indie walked back into the room, double-checked to make sure that the curtains would block out all the sun in the morning before turning the TV on to one of those horrible movies from the eighties, curled up with a pillow on the other bed, and was fast asleep before the first commercial started.
Deciding that he’d wasted enough time, Ethan reached into his pocket and pulled out the small key that she really should have looked for. He unlocked his cuff, tossed the key to the asshole watching the movie and decided that he’d let this go on long enough.
*-*-*-*
She may have made a tactical error, Indie realized as she laid there, hugging the pillow tightly against her body as she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping, praying really, that the large man standing over her would quickly lose interest in her and go away.
She should have put a little more effort into finding that key, she realized with a wince when she felt the cold bite of metal wrap around her wrist with an ominous click. When she heard the second click, Indie couldn’t help but frown as she opened her eyes only to wish that she hadn’t when the very large, and very angry by the looks of it, man glaring at her through silver eyes leaned down until his mouth was next to her ear.
“The next time that I tell you to run, you had better fucking run,” Ethan whispered, his lips brushing against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine as she felt the covers pulled back and-
“What are you doing?” Indie found herself asking when he picked her up and somehow managed to throw her over his shoulder with their arms handcuffed together.
“I need a shower,” he bit out, heading towards the bathroom as his words sank in and when they did, she shot the large shifter that she’d been hoping would feel obligated to help her after she’d shared her pie with him a pleading look only to find him lying on his stomach with his head propped up on pillows, watching TV with a wistful sigh and a, “I fucking love The Goonies.”
Realizing that she was going to need a new backup plan, not that her first plan had really been much of a plan, Indie thought as she was placed on her feet and found herself staring when Ethan ripped his shirt off, tossing it aside and-
“What was your plan?” Ethan asked as she stood there, watching as he pulled off his boots before he shoved his pants down and she suddenly found the off-white grout and tiles very interesting.
“I don’t want to go back,” Indie said, telling herself that it was wrong to look, but…
Definitely wrong to look, Indie decided when she got her first glimpse at the reason why the movie channels had been blocked and parental controls had been placed on her computer. Well, there had been other reasons for that, Indie grudgingly admitted, turning her head when she felt a blush burn a path up her neck when she caught a glimpse of the appendage that didn’t look anything like the diagrams in the anatomy books that she’d read.
Was it supposed to be that big? she couldn’t help but wonder only to frown when it…twitched? Definitely twitched, Indie thought only to watch as it started to get bigger. Fascinated, Indie watched as it continued to grow until it was pointing at her with a slight curve with veins standing out around it and couldn’t help but wince because that actually looked like it hurt. There was a sigh as she felt his fingers gently pinch her chin and tilt her head back so that she was looking up at him.
“Why don’t you want to go back, mo stoirín?” Ethan asked, giving her chin a gentle caress.
“What does mo stoirín mean?” Indie asked, noting the way he suddenly went still and dropped his hand away as though she’d burned him.
“It means pain in the ass,” Ethan said evenly as he stepped into the shower and yanked the shower curtain shut as far as their handcuffed hands would allow.
“Oh,” Indie mumbled absently, as she replayed the words in her head as she leaned back against the wall and had to admit that they sounded pretty.
“Tell me why you don’t want to go back,” Ethan said as she glanced around the bathroom, looking for somewhere to sit only to settle for leaning against the wall when she realized that her only options were the toilet and…
That was pretty much it.
“Why would I want to go back?” Indie asked as she glanced down at her handcuffed hand and sighed.
She really needed to escape only she’d kind of been hoping to negotiate with the large shifter in the other room to take her to Boston. Now that he was free, she didn’t have anything to bargain with. She could try to stick him with the needle again, but…
Doing it the first time had made her feel sick to her stomach. She didn’t like hurting people, but he hadn’t left her with much of a choice. She couldn’t go back to that house, not when she knew what would happen. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t left on her own. They would still punish her.
They’d take the board across her back and legs until she passed out, careful not to break her skin. Before her body had a chance to hit the floor, they’d drag her to the bathroom and submerge her in ice water. They wouldn’t wait until she had a chance to take a breath. As soon as she opened her eyes, they’d shove her underwater and hold her there until she thought her lungs would explode.
Then they’d let her go.
But she wouldn’t get far. They’d make her stay in that tub until her skin turned bright red and the shivering stopped as her breaths became shallow and she struggled to remember why t
hey were doing this to her. She remembered quickly once they dragged her out of the tub and carried her downstairs to the cells they sometimes used during the full moon when her guardians needed to stay close by.
They also used the cells as punishment.
She remembered when she was little, waking up to the screams, the pleas for mercy that quickly turned to pleas for death, and knowing better than to look outside her bedroom window, afraid that she’d see the terror on their faces as they were dragged down to the cells that she’d been forbidden to talk about. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she’d grab her old blankie and crawl into her closet where she would curl up in a corner with her hands covering her ears, waiting for the screams to stop.
That was the worst part about being locked in one of the old cells, not the cold metal floor, the hunger, the dark, or the pain, but the screams and knowing what came next. When her door cell finally opened to let her go, that’s when the real terror began. That’s when she would finally break down, cry and beg them not to do it, but they didn’t listen.
They never did.
Knowing that her freedom came at a cost, Indie would sit in that cell, hugging her knees to her chest for as long as she could hold out. When she couldn’t take it any longer, she’d send up a silent prayer for whoever was about to pay for what she did and crawled out of her cell, hating herself every inch of the way. The moment she emerged from that cell…
She’d wish that she hadn’t as she was forced to watch as they dragged someone from one of the other cells and punished them in her place as a warning. It was the reason why she’d never made it off the property before because she was afraid of what would happen if she actually did escape and now that she had, she knew that she couldn’t go back.
“Because it’s your home,” Ethan said, sounding curious as Indie glanced at the black bag filled with all those terrifying things that she’d been tempted to leave behind, but was afraid that they were going to need and wondered if she could actually do this only…
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