A long moment passed before he gave her a faint smile. “I’m not sure I understand, but I was raised on a ranch. Getting back on the horse that threw you is a cowboy law. But I’m going with you.”
“No, you are not,” Wyatt told him and then abandoned the door to loom over Kallie. “And you’re going nowhere, cuz.”
She ignored him. “Jake. You don’t need to—”
He stroked a hand over her hair, slow and comforting. “Of course I do. Now deal with your family.”
Family. Just the word sent a thrill through her heart and gave her strength enough to face them. God, she loved them—Wyatt with all his bluster, Morgan with his silence, Virgil with his strength—and they loved her. She knew that now.
“I need to do this, guys,” she said firmly and held up a hand to silence Wyatt. “You can’t stop me.”
Virgil raised one eyebrow, and a crease appeared in one cheek.
Morgan shoved Wyatt over to glare at Jake. “Maybe, but we can keep you from going with him.”
She rolled her eyes. “Morgan, did I stop you from dating that blonde bimbo with the brains of a gnat?”
He reddened.
“Wyatt, do I interfere in your life when you bring women back here? Even when you have two at a time?”
“That’s different. I’m—”
“I’m a woman. And have been for a long time.” She smiled sweetly at each cousin in turn. “Everyone’s equal in this house, remember? What I got, you got—and vice versa. I don’t interfere in your love life; you don’t get to interfere in mine. I don’t tell you how to dress; you don’t complain about my clothes.”
The deepening scowls made her step back. Her determination wavered. What if they decided they didn’t love her, if they wanted—
“Jesus fucking Christ, don’t look at us like that.” Virgil gripped her shoulders and gave her a shake. “Yell at us and throw things, bring home every lowlife in Bear Flat, wear bikinis all day long, just don’t ever, ever look at us like you doubt how we feel about you.”
Oh. Okay.
Wyatt looked shaken for a moment and then crossed his arms. “Yeah, well, I might love you, but I don’t know about you bringing home a lowlife.”
“I love you, Wyatt,” Kallie said, watched his face go soft, and then she slapped him upside the head. “And I’ll bring home who I want.”
* * *
The moon had risen, three days past full, and lent additional light as they moved up the mountain. Their flashlights glimmered on dark tree trunks that seemed to press far too close to the trail. As every injury from yesterday ached, Kallie felt a twang of guilt that Jake had taken her pack to carry. Every time he shifted it, she remembered the club hitting his shoulder. Then again, her hip really, really hurt, and she’d probably have dumped the damn thing on the side of trail by now.
Seemed like he always showed up when she needed help, even when she didn’t know she did. She carefully avoided thinking about anything other than having his friendship. They could be good friends. Really.
And she had something she needed to do. She stopped and turned to look at him. “Thank you for yesterday. Not just for saving my life”—she grinned at him—“although I really do appreciate that, but afterward too. To know why I was sent away…and that they loved me…it helps. I owe you.”
“I think we’re even. Seems like a little sub called me names and forced me to see things in a new light.”
She winced. She’d called him a pussy, hadn’t she? “You’re not mad?”
His lips quirked. “We need to work on your confrontational skills a tad. But I needed to hear it. Thank you.”
Relief lifted her spirits. He didn’t hate her for her blunt words. See? Friends. Unfortunately, as they continued up the trail, her comfortable feeling fell prey to her memories of violence. Screaming. Death.
By the time the turnoff appeared, she’d started to cringe at the tiniest rustle in the brush. Although her brain recognized the sound of a mouse out for a night snack, the rest of her panicked. Soon the memory of the monster’s roar overwhelmed the sound of Jake’s limping footsteps behind her.
Her knees shook from more than exhaustion as she stopped at her rocks. They lay in an ugly mess, no longer spelling out her name. Maybe she should consider it a sign she didn’t belong here. Shoulders slumping, she started to step over them. Jake made a noise, low in his throat, and she stopped.
As she stared down, moonlight colored the rocks with silver. She inhaled slowly. The murderer had scratched out her name, not her cousins. Not her family. She did belong here. Setting her jaw, she crouched and put the stones back into their places until her name shown clearly again. KALINDA.
My place.
Jake smiled, and the warmth from his understanding pushed a little of the chill away. His unspoken protest had made her stop and think. But he hadn’t interfered after that. She’d made her own remedy, and he’d stood by in silent support. As he did now.
With that reassurance, she was able to turn and move down the tiny path toward the creek.
A little while later, she stood in the small clearing. Aside from trampled grass, no sign remained of the violence. And yet she kept seeing the murderer stalk out of the trees. When she turned, she saw Virgil helpless on the ground. She heard the thud of a club impacting flesh. A dog’s yelp.
A warm hand closed on her shoulder, and she shuddered. Jake set the pack down and pulled her close. She laid her cheek on his broad chest and heard only the slow beat of his heart. The solid feel of him let her breathe again. Almost as if he shared from his own vast stores, courage flowed into her, strengthening her resolve. I can do this. No asshole monster would take this place from her.
She pulled back and stood on her own two feet. When Jake tilted his head, she nodded firmly. “I can do this.”
“I have no doubt. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.”
The conviction in his voice stunned her. Strong? She bit her lip, captured her self-image again. Damn right, I’m strong. “I need to be alone.”
Silence. His face tightened as he obviously warred with his need to shelter her. His protectiveness made her feel so safe and, oddly enough, helped her stand on her own feet. A contradiction, that—like how giving away love could increase it.
He caressed her cheek with gentle fingers, then walked back up the path, leaving her in the empty clearing, alone with her memories.
“My place,” she whispered to the memory of the murderer. “I belong here. You don’t.”
When the murderer appeared again, she crossed her arms over her chest, then shrank his body to the size of a field mouse, gave him a tail and ears, and watched him scamper away. “Your balls were only mouse-sized too, you cowardly asshole,” she muttered when he returned, cudgel held high. She turned him into a mouse over and over. Then she took the sounds of her screams, of yelps, of his roar and lowered the volume until the noise of violence disappeared under the happy tumbling of the creek.
She stepped back from the horrifying sight of Virgil, helpless on the ground, and with jaw set, she substituted his laugh and groan when she’d told him that joke. Virgil’s laugh could lighten any sadness, and a second later, she grinned. If he gave her any trouble before his ribs healed, she could start telling jokes.
Finally she came to the terror of Jake fighting the monster. She let fear drip like water from her fingers to the stubbly grass, and pulled Jake’s protectiveness around her like a warm blanket.
She walked her clearing slowly, changing pain into pride. She’d done well. Her family was alive; Jake was alive. No more women would be killed.
Time passed. The moon rose until it floated high in the sky, outshining the stars. The creek’s happy gurgling made her smile once again, and the pines blessed her with a motherly shushing sound. Distant barks came from coyotes running in the moonlight. And she knew the rustling in the underbrush meant a tiny shrew, not a monster.
She was shaking again…but whole. And her sanct
uary belonged to her. She opened her arms, wishing for a way to embrace a place, to somehow return the comfort it had given her over the years. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Turning, she realized she was still alone despite the passage of time. Had he gone back down the trail? Had he left her—as she’d asked? The sense of abandonment stabbed through her, and then she shook her head and laughed. Not Jake, Mr. Overprotective himself. The certainty stabilized the ground under her feet as if she’d moved from a rolling boat onto solid land. “Jake? Where are you?”
“Here.” His voice came from up the slope. A minute or two later, he appeared, walking down the tiny path. He must have gone back up the trail to leave her alone but stayed close enough to return if she needed him. Balancing her requests against his own needs.
“Thank you,” she said as he walked up to her.
The moonlight showed how his gaze took her in, studying her face, her hands, her shoulders. He smiled slowly. “You look better.”
“I am.”
“As long as we’re here, I want to talk to you without your cousins hovering over you.”
She took a step back. Friends. Nothing more. She started to shake her head.
“Can’t you trust me enough for that?”
A memory of the first time he’d asked for her trust stole into her mind: “Can you trust me in here, surrounded by other people, to restrain you, spank you, and give you pleasure?” Her cheeks heated, and from the way his eyebrow raised, he knew exactly what she’d thought. She straightened her shoulders. “Only to talk. I’m not going to start anything up again with you.”
“Clear enough.” He pulled a bottle of water from the side pocket of the backpack. “Drink, sprite.”
The thought of never hearing his nickname for her again hurt. She took a couple of sips and handed the bottle back, watching him drink, the sight of his strong throat as he swallowed disconcertingly sexy. He unstrapped the sleeping bag from the bottom of the pack and flipped it open.
“Sit.”
She dropped down and crossed her legs. Jake followed, and as she turned to look at him, she realized he’d positioned himself so the moonlight illuminated their faces. He not only wanted to talk but also see her reactions.
Why in the world had she agreed to stay? It would only hurt more. Already she felt her strength failing. I can’t do this again: needing him, wanting him, losing him. No no no. “I changed my mind. I’m going to go back down now.” She pushed up to her knees, then started to stand.
“No, you’re not. Not unless you use your safe word.” He grasped her wrist and gave her a level stare.
“Damn you, this isn’t some game. I don’t want to stay here.” She tugged, and yet she couldn’t…couldn’t use her safe word and bring an end to everything.
He cupped her chin, keeping her from moving. “Look at me, Kallie.”
Tears filled her eyes without warning, and his face softened. “Oh, sugar, don’t do that. You’ll break my heart.” He stroked his thumb over the curve of her jaw.
“Why do you keep doing this?” She met his eyes. “I still…” She smothered the rest—still love you—and took a gulp of air. “I know you don’t want anything serious. But I can’t do this anymore.”
“I’m damned sorry for the hurt I caused you, sprite. I was an idiot—and the coward you called me. When you said you loved me, it scared me spitless.” His grim eyes trapped her gaze. “I just couldn’t be responsible for another woman’s happiness.”
“I know,” she whispered. It didn’t help.
He brushed a wisp of hair from her face. “You see…I’d not only screwed up and had been so careless of Mimi that she had no hope, but somehow I hadn’t realized she wanted to die. I’m a dom. To know I could miss that—I couldn’t risk taking another submissive.”
She curled her fingers around his strong hand. So strong, yet he’d been hurt so badly that her heart ached for him. His protectiveness was one of the things she loved about him—here was the reverse side. “You know you didn’t miss anything, don’t you? She didn’t commit suicide. Andrew killed her.”
“I know. Now.” His face turned to stone, and rage flashed, turning his eyes to ice. “I shouldn’t have killed him so quickly.” He inhaled and exhaled in a long, controlled breath, and his gaze softened as he looked at her. “I’m sorry; I don’t mean to scare you.”
Maybe it shouldn’t have, but his anger made her feel safe. He was a warrior like Virgil, and the world held too few of them. She raised her chin. “You don’t frighten me, Hunt.”
He snorted a laugh. “You think I’d know that by now.” He rubbed his knuckles gently against her cheek and paused, his eyes on hers. “Kallie, even before I learned how Mimi died, I was already on my way to your house. For you.”
The ground underneath her seemed to tilt. No. I don’t want this. She’d needed his love so badly before, but not anymore. Too risky. Too much pain. “No.”
“Oh yes. You were right; I ran…and I hurt you. I’m sorry, sprite.” He looked so unhappy that he’d caused her pain; her heart broke for him. “Can you forgive me for being such a coward?”
He hadn’t wanted to hurt her—she didn’t want to hurt him now. “Of course I forgive you,” she said before thinking it through.
Lifting her hand, he kissed her palm, his lips soft, his breath warm against her skin. “Thank you.”
“Right. Well.”
He didn’t release her hand but used it to pull her closer. “Now the past is out of the way, we can move on…” After brushing his lips over hers, he deepened the kiss.
She could have kissed him all night, but eventually his words registered, and she slapped her palm on his wide chest and pushed him back. “Wait. Move on? To what?”
His lips quirked. “To the fact that I love you,” he said, his rumbling voice only a murmur but very certain. When her mouth dropped open, he smiled and took her face between his hands, holding her gaze with his as he repeated, “I love you, Kalinda Masterson.”
Hellfire, he never did anything halfway, did he? Love? The sweeping wonder died under the onslaught of fear. She couldn’t risk this, couldn’t stand to lose someone again. Her lip quivered, and he ran his thumb over it soothingly.
“No. I don’t want you.” She kept her hand on his chest to push him away, felt the contoured muscles, the warm skin, and wanted to stroke instead. The crisp hair scattered over his chest—she’d ruffled it once. A long, long time ago. Her breath hitched with the desire to touch, to be held.
The moonlight glimmered across his face, his hard cheekbones, shadowing the line between his brows, showing the way his eyes narrowed. “Little liar. Yes, you do.”
Shoving his hands away, she shook her head no, yet wanted to bury her face against him and cry.
Jake watched Kallie, realizing more fully how much damage he’d done when he’d pushed her away. He’d reinforced her belief that no one cared for her. Her admission that she loved him had been a gift he didn’t deserve. In fact, if she hadn’t been half-asleep, he’d never have heard the words from her.
For now, he gave her time. Reaching out, he stroked her hair as she wrestled with her old fears of abandonment and believing no one wanted her. She had good reason for her anxiety. The world came with no guarantees. And he couldn’t promise her they’d always be together. But if she risked her heart with him, every day of their life, he would show her exactly how very much he loved her.
And no matter how much she protested, she wanted to be loved so badly that it made his chest ache.
She was stuck, he realized, unable to move forward, unwilling to retreat back into her lonely space. If she’d been a different submissive—one with other problems—he might have mounted her on his cock and pressed for an answer…but she needed to come to him with both her mind and heart. “Kallie, do you love me?”
The straightforward question did it—because she couldn’t deny what they both knew. Her eyes closed, and the answer came reluctantly. “Y-yes.”
<
br /> The laugh almost choked him, and her eyes popped open. “Sweetheart, you sound as if you’re admitting to kicking puppies, not telling a man you love him.”
She blinked, frowned, and then took a deep breath. “You’re right.” As he had done, she set a hand on each side of his face and stared into his eyes. “I love you, Jake Hunt.”
And there it was. A future. Hope. Love. Joy fountained through him, lifting him from the depths where he’d lived for so long, to the heights to come. Hell of a ride.
She shivered, as if she’d opened a door, letting the air into her house, a clean, fresh, scary scent.
Master of the Abyss Page 25
