by Brenda Novak
Then there was his kiss and those few seconds of uncertainty when the contact could’ve turned into much more. She could still taste him, feel the sensation of his lips moving, firm yet soft, against hers.
Those moments had been exhilarating. So damn exhilarating the memory alone was enough to make her mouth water.
By the time he came back in, Evelyn was lying on her back, wide awake, and staring at the ceiling. She’d slept off the alcohol, but the longing that’d flared up during those hours by the fire hadn’t gone anywhere. Having all her faculties restored only made her more aware of the sergeant, because there was no false euphoria to distract or mollify her.
Her body was prepared for him. The thought of Amarok’s skin moving against hers made her so sensitive she could feel her pulse between her legs. But what about her mind? The emotional damage she’d suffered had been far greater than the physical damage, more lasting, too. She wasn’t sure she could muster the amount of trust making love would require. Since Jasper, she’d rarely been tempted to try.
So why now? After she’d told Amarok no last August?
Maybe it was his willingness to let her stay on a cold, snowy night when she couldn’t get home. Or the way he’d broken off the kiss when he could’ve kept going.
He’d admitted to wanting her. But she’d warned him away. What would he do if she went to him now? Would he play it safe and reject her? Or would he gamble?
Even if he accepted her in his bed, being able to have sex again wouldn’t miraculously heal her. She had no delusions about that. It would, however, be a small step forward, one her therapist had encouraged her to take years ago.
Dared she be so bold? What would happen if she initiated contact but couldn’t go through with it?
She’d ruin what small recovery they’d made in their friendship tonight.
Maybe she should settle for that one kiss. Wait and see if a deeper, more intimate relationship developed over time.
But it’d already been twenty years since she’d been with a man. She was usually so guarded no one could get through her defenses. Amarok had tried once and been rebuffed.
She thought of her suit hanging in the closet. In the light of day, when she returned to her normal self and her normal job, those inhibitors might snap back into place. Then what could’ve been would never be.
Amarok went into the bathroom. The toilet flushed and the floor in the hall creaked beneath his step. He was heading back to bed. If she didn’t act right away, it’d be too late.
4
Every man to his own tastes. Mine is for corpses.
—HENRI BLOT, PARIS’S SLEEPY NECROPHILIAC
The moment she touched his bare back, Amarok froze. Evelyn was certain he’d heard her approach, that the whine of her door as she opened it had given away her presence and her proximity, because he didn’t seem startled. He did, however, seem unsure of how he wanted to respond to this little meeting in the middle of the night.
“You warm enough?” he asked without turning.
“Yes.”
“Then why are your fingers so cold?”
She dropped her hand in case they were also uncomfortable or unwelcome on his skin. “I guess I’m nervous.”
She hadn’t imagined this being quite so awkward. Not after last summer and that memorable kiss tonight. But without the help of alcohol they had nothing to smooth over the damage she’d done.
Fear that he might reject her, if only to give her a taste of her own medicine, made her wonder why she’d left her bed. It was completely out of character for her to be so forward. She honestly didn’t know him that well, had stopped what had started between them almost as soon as it’d begun. Yet she couldn’t bring her feet to carry her back to her own room. She wanted him whether it was awkward or not, whether he was too young for her or not, whether it would be difficult or embarrassing when she ran into him after tomorrow.
Finally, he swung around. She couldn’t see him in the dark hallway, but she could tell where he was and which direction he was facing by his voice when he said, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
How should she respond? She had no idea. Didn’t he know what she wanted? Couldn’t he guess?
Of course. Which meant he must not be interested, or he would’ve given her some indication. “Is that a no?”
She heard him sigh, then rub the beard growth on his face.
“It should be,” he said.
“Because of that grudge you’re carrying?”
“Because I’ve never been with anyone who’s experienced anything even remotely close to what you have. I don’t want to hurt you, don’t want to bring back bad memories or do anything else that’ll cause you to shut down or lump me together with the bastard who hurt you.”
That was a lot of words for him. Obviously, he’d been thinking about the situation, had understood all along what she was offering. “I know you’re not him.”
“I want more than that.”
“More than what?”
“The two of us together—I see it as wild and a bit out of control. Messy, you know? I want to be able to go with what I feel, to trust my natural impulses. It can’t be good if I’m second-guessing my every move. No one would enjoy that.”
“Of course.” She felt silly for expecting him to forget that she’d already bailed out on him once. Why would he keep trying with her when he could have a much less complicated woman at the snap of his fingers? Men outnumbered women here two to one, but the sergeant could have his pick of the lot. “That wouldn’t be any fun. I understand.”
She started to move away, but he caught her arm. “No, you don’t. I’m not worried about me. I already know what good sex is like. I want you to feel it, to experience it, to enjoy human intimacy as it should be—not be subjected to some watered-down version where I’m half-afraid to touch you. That would only convince you that you’re not missing anything, make you happy to hide behind the defenses you’ve thrown up.”
“And why would you care if that happened?”
“Because you’ve been robbed of what you should’ve had and you deserve better. Everyone does.”
“So…”
“So I’m not interested in having sex with you if you’re simply going to suffer through it. Does that make sense?”
She swallowed hard, wished—for the millionth time—that she wasn’t damaged in this area. “It does. But … I can’t make any promises, Amarok. You know this would be my first time since … then. I don’t know what to expect from my own body. It could get uncomfortable, end badly. You need to be aware of that. You’d be smarter to play it safe.” She lowered her voice. “But … some risks are worth taking. I guess that’s what you have to decide—if this is one of those risks.”
When she said that, he stepped close enough that she could feel his breath fan her cheek. “I’m aware of the possible payoff, Dr. Talbot. Hence my dilemma.”
Her stomach hardened into a tight ball of energy. “Well? What are you going to choose?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“Are you ready to spread your legs for me?”
He was testing her, talking dirty to see if it threatened her. It didn’t. She liked the guttural tone to his voice, the evidence of his desire, but … he hadn’t touched her yet. She had no idea how she might react to the weight of his body pressing her into the mattress or some of the other things that could remind her of the ordeal she’d been through.
Standing on tiptoe, she kissed his jawline, his lips. “Just thinking about you makes me wet.”
Her voice was so husky she almost didn’t recognize it, but she’d spoken the truth, and he seemed to like it. She heard him suck air between his teeth as his hands slid down her arms. “Let’s see how wet,” he said, and those same hands slipped into the boxers he’d loaned her.
She tensed up when he touched her. She would’ve thought he’d take it slow. But she got the impression he wasn’t about to give her time to think, to r
econsider. His mouth covered hers as he slid a finger inside her, and instead of fighting him, instead of feeling overwhelmed or defenseless, as she’d feared, she felt as if her bones were melting and was happy to have them do so.
“There you go,” he coaxed when her hand guided him deeper. “You can trust me. I won’t hurt you, Evelyn.”
Tears filled her eyes. She wasn’t sure why, because he didn’t frighten her; he turned her on. She was breaking through some sort of barrier that’d kept her from the real world. At last, she was back, experiencing everything she’d been missing for twenty years.
“That’s … good,” she breathed. “No, that’s great.”
The pleasure intensified when he lifted her shirt. “No kidding,” he murmured, circling the tip of one breast with his tongue. “You’re doing fine. You taste like heaven. And you feel even better.”
When he removed her clothes, she wasn’t even tempted to resist. She didn’t mind when he carried her to the bed, either. He acted as if there were no more decisions to make, no room for reason or fear. And strangely enough, she believed him. His mouth, his hands, were everywhere, suckling, touching, arousing.
“You’re too young for me,” she said, repeating the thought that was floating out there, somewhere in her mind.
Laughing softly, he used an additional finger. “I’m old enough to give you what you want.”
Makita whined every so often. He seemed interested in what was going on. She even felt his wet nose brush her leg once when he got up to investigate. But having the dog as a witness didn’t bother Evelyn. She doubted he could see much more than she could, which was nothing. He had to be able to smell them, though. The scent of sex, heady and ripe, seemed to be everywhere. On her. On Amarok. On the bedding.
Sex was messy, she thought, gloriously messy. But she didn’t care about that, either. Maybe Trooper Murphy was seven years younger, and maybe they had nothing in common, but this was an accomplishment, a release, one of the best moments of her life. And it was happening in remote Alaska, in the place she’d cursed almost every day since coming here.
Amarok didn’t seem to notice that his dog had followed them into the room. He was too focused on her, too determined to bring her to climax. This was nothing like what she’d experienced with Jasper—even before the violence, when they were first experimenting. It hadn’t been bad back then, but there’d been more fumbling than pleasure. Now that she understood how lonely life could be going solo all the time, how close she’d come to shutting off her own sexuality, she valued the sensations pouring through her that much more.
“I’m shaking,” she whispered.
“I’ve noticed,” he said.
“But it’s a crazy good kind of shaking.”
“I can tell.” He fed off her excitement, and she fed off his.
“Take me now.” If they joined quickly, she’d have less chance of building up any resistance to the idea, less chance of backing out. She wanted to make sure it didn’t boil down to that.
He let her strip away the snow pants he’d donned to go outside and removed his own shirt.
The first time his bare chest touched hers, she got butterflies. But then his erection pressed against her stomach and she experienced something else, something akin to fear. She was sure it would ruin everything, but after he put on a condom he didn’t roll her beneath him as she expected. He let go of her and shifted onto his back. “I’m ready when you are,” he said.
He expected her to take charge? Could she do it? Could she go through with it?
Her heart threatened to pound right out of her chest as she straddled him. She could feel his hands gripping her thighs, guiding her, encouraging her. But when his hard shaft brushed her bottom she froze.
“You’re almost there,” he said. “You’ve got this.”
He didn’t act as if he’d press her if she didn’t want to continue. That helped. He was being careful to make sure she retained some power in this exchange, some control.
“I want you,” she whispered. That was true in spite of the fear, in spite of her sudden resistance.
“Then you know what to do,” he said. “Or you can wait. It’s your choice. There’s no rush.”
Did he really think they’d have another opportunity? She had no faith in that. She had to finish this tonight, while she was out of her element. She was so close.
But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make herself take him inside her. A sudden rush of panic paralyzed her as quickly as a shot of succinylcholine chloride.
“Amarok?” she choked out his name as if he could help her, but she wasn’t sure what he could do. Encouraging her would only make things worse. She was already breaking into a cold sweat, felt as if she were somehow outside of her body watching the previous excitement unravel in the most disappointing and humiliating way.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “It doesn’t have to happen now.”
She’d failed. She’d wanted it so badly, but the memories were too much for her. Even if she wasn’t thinking of Jasper consciously, even if she was doing everything possible to convince herself there was no connection between what had happened so long ago and what was happening now, there was resistance on such a base level she couldn’t overcome it.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she climbed off him. She wanted to head back to her room, where she could recover alone, but he caught her hand.
“Stay.”
“I’m sorry. I knew this could happen—”
“And you warned me. It’s fine. We’ll sleep. Come here.” He coaxed her into lying down. Then he pulled her up against him. “You’re okay.” He spoke in measured tones, as if he was talking her down off a cliff or handling a spooked animal. She was embarrassed, but the gentleness of his voice and the security of his embrace helped.
Eventually, the panic ebbed and she could breathe normally again. She wanted to thank him for his understanding and patience. This had to have been the worst sexual experience of his life. She hated being responsible for it. But by the time she could speak without breaking into tears, which she definitely didn’t want, he was asleep.
* * *
“Sergeant, you there? Sergeant? Please copy. We got a problem here.”
Amarok’s radio woke them early the next morning. Although they hadn’t had intercourse, they were lying tangled in each other and the sheets, with Makita at the foot of the bed, keeping their feet warm.
“Don’t tell me it’s morning,” Amarok mumbled.
Evelyn was just groggy enough not to mind that they were both naked. “Without a clock, how would I know?” It wasn’t as if they could judge by the sun creeping around the blinds. This time of year, Hilltop received only about five hours of daylight.
“It can’t be morning. I just closed my eyes.” He curled around her as if he’d doze off regardless, but the radio crackled again.
“Hey.” She jiggled his arm, which lay across her middle. “I think someone’s trying to reach you.”
“Right. I know that.” He stretched as he grew more coherent. “What’s the storm doing?”
She lifted her head to listen. “I’m guessing it’s over. I don’t hear anything—”
“Sergeant? Do you copy?”
“—except your radio.”
“Shit,” he said, and yawned.
“Sergeant, it’s Shorty. Come back.”
She leaned up on her elbows. Shorty owned the Moosehead. He was also a Public Safety Officer, during the summer. “You planning to answer?”
He shoved his head under a pillow. “Haven’t decided yet.”
The pillow muffled his words, but she picked up most of them. “He sounds desperate.”
“Yeah. That’s why I’m hesitant,” he said, but he tossed the pillow aside and got up.
Once he managed to extract himself from the bed, he didn’t stop to dress. He strode into the living room, where she heard him respond. “This is Sergeant Amarok. What’s up?”
“Um
… not sure, Sergeant. But … I think you’d better get down here.”
The emergency in Shorty’s voice caused Evelyn to sit up.
“Where’s here?” Amarok asked.
“The Moosehead.”
“What’s wrong? Has the snow caved in the roof?”
Evelyn thought that was a good guess, but Shorty denied it.
“No, sir.”
“Then what? Spit it out. I’m not in the mood for games.”
“This is no game, Sergeant. We found something. I’d tell you what if I could. But … I’m afraid to guess. Just come, okay? Come quick.”
When Amarok returned to the bedroom he no longer seemed sleepy. He flipped on the light and dressed with an economy of movement that belied his earlier exhaustion.
“What’s going on?” Suddenly self-conscious, Evelyn pulled the blankets up to her neck.
“I have no idea. But they’d better not be hauling my ass out in the cold to look at a giant icicle.”
“Do you think it could be that innocuous?” Knowing she had 250 of the most dangerous men in America housed not far away, she couldn’t help but feel a trickle of anxiety, especially after her odd session with Hugo. Surely nothing had gone wrong at Hanover House.
Shorty had mentioned finding “something” at the Moosehead. That meant this had nothing to do with her.
She hoped.
Amarok nudged his dog out of the way and sat on the bed to put on his boots. “No. But whatever it is, I’ll take care of it. Get some rest.”
“You’ll let me know what’s happened, though, won’t you?”
“I’ll check in as soon as I can.”
“Okay.” She put some lift in her voice for his benefit. But she couldn’t go back to sleep. As soon as he left, she yanked on the sweats he’d given her and tried to use the phone. She wanted to see if everything was okay at the prison. But there was no service. The storm had probably knocked over a pole, just as she’d feared it would.
