by Poppy Flynn
But Melody? She called to him on a level that no other woman had ever done.
Maybe it was because she hadn't deliberately sought him out. Maybe it was the strength and determination he saw in her, despite the way she'd been treated. Maybe it was because he knew she had absolutely no one else on her side. Maybe it was because the similarities between her situation and Sara's had him wanting to make things right for her, so that he could absolve himself of the guilt he felt at failing Sara.
Whatever the reasons, he knew that he was powerless to either deny her, or to defy his own need to help her.
Well, so be it. He'd just have to remain cautious in his actions and try to make sure that everything he did was truly for her own benefit, because the one thing he really didn't want was to facilitate her dependence.
As he looked down at where she lay, engulfed in the huge bed which was built to fit three or more people, he realised that she had started to visibly draw into herself at his continuing silence.
Damned if he did, and damned if he didn't. The depiction flitted briefly through his mind as he gave in to both of their needs and made his way around to the other side of the bed.
In all honesty, they could both sleep here without either of them being aware of the other one's presence, it was so immense. But as soon as he settled under the covers, Melody scooted over and wrapped herself around him, clinging, like she was scared to let go, in case she was cast adrift.
"What's wrong with me, Micah?" she whispered desperately. "I never needed anybody before. I was never scared of the dark, or the cage, or even the idea of what he might do to me. I wasn't even afraid of dying. The reality of it all made worrying about any of that so futile, so why am I having these…these reactions, now that I'm safer than I have been for years? I feel so…anxious, so vulnerable, even though I know there's no logical basis in any of that. I lived with the expectation of death for years. It doesn't make any sense to find myself falling apart now that the threat is diminished. I don't like it!" she admitted mournfully, burying her head in his shoulder.
She was scared of her own feelings, Micah realised. She'd kept them bottled up for years, simply enduring. But today, had shaken them all up and let them loose. Now they were bubbling around in her head, unbalancing her emotions, and affecting the hard-won stability of what little peace of mind she had been able to engage during her incarceration.
"You've had a stressful few days," Micah told her, giving in and putting his arm around her thin shoulders. She just needed a little human contact and reassurance. "Despite the horrors of the past few years, your life had, at least, been constant. You had a roof over your head, enough food to keep you alive, and you knew pretty much what to expect from day to day, even if all those things were wretched and inadequate."
As she settled, he pulled the thick brocade bedspread up around them and snuggled them in.
"Once you decided to run, you lost what tiny bit of stability and familiarity that you had. You were running blind with literally nothing to your name and no idea where you were going. In the beginning, you would have been fuelled by the adrenaline of your flight response. That's what gave you the energy to carry on despite your physical disadvantages. After that, your mind switched to survival instinct and all your thoughts and resources were concentrated on staying alive, on finding enough food, water, shelter, warmth, and safety."
Melody didn't interrupt, neither to agree or disagree and, at first, he thought she might be asleep, but a look at her face showed her eyes still open and alert, quietly drinking in every word.
"Eventually, your body hit saturation point, where it couldn't take any more, and that's when I found you. The shock of that, coupled with exhaustion and stress of the previous few days, caused both your body and mind to shut down, but it was once you accepted that you were safe that things started to change."
A tremor rippled through Melody's slight frame and she pressed closer to him. Micah couldn't help but wonder what was running through her mind at that moment, but he wasn't going to dredge up any more bad memories and unsettle her even further by asking.
"I know that sounds like a bit of a contradiction, but, for the first time, your mind was able to …wander, if you like, to contemplate all of the other scenarios, all of the things that might have gone wrong.
On top of that, you've had your memories raked over, repeatedly, and you've been asked to delve deeper into them than you're comfortable with, and that has brought all of the atrocities you've suffered right up to the surface. Your mind has had to unlock all of those things it would have preferred to keep sealed. Coupled with that is the fact that your brain has finally relaxed the fight or flight responses, now that your subconscious understands that it's safe."
Micah felt another quake tremor through her and hugged her close without even thinking about it, his protective instincts outweighing his reservations.
"And now that you are safe, your mind is giving in to the natural fear of being captured and hurt again, because you finally have something better to look forward to."
Micah turned to face her properly and looked her straight in the eye. "You said, yourself, that you had no fear of death, because sometimes it felt like that would be a blessed relief from your torment. But suddenly, your mind has a different set of priorities; it has succumbed to the fear of what's happened in the past because, now that you've found freedom, you finally have something to live for. Your brain is cataloguing the past and the present, the terror weighed against liberation and safety, and it exhibits it as fear, even if that's in your subconscious, because it doesn't want to go back to the way things were. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Melody looked up at him with those huge, violet eyes which seemed far too innocent for all the atrocities she had seen and endured.
"You're saying that while I lived it, I endured it because there was no other choice, but now that I've escaped what my life had become, I'm scared of the idea of being forced back into that scenario, because I know how much better things could be."
It wasn't a question; it was a statement. Micah nodded and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
"Exactly! Now get some sleep. I'm right here, and I'll keep you safe. The club has top notch security, and no one knows where you are but for a handful of completely trustworthy people. And even if anyone did find you, they'd have to go through me to get to you, and I'm not going to let that happen."
Melody sighed and relaxed, closing her eyes obediently and tucking her head into the crook of his neck. Micah was glad she felt safe enough with him to do so.
He just wished he could relax as easily, but there was little chance of that when his body was experiencing some entirely inappropriate ideas of its own at having a naked and willing female body plastered so close that the only thing separating them was a skin-tight pair of boxers and his own moral values.
Melody awoke the following morning feeling surprisingly rested, given her disturbed night, and she knew it was wholly due to Micah's comforting presence.
She still couldn't work out just why it was that she felt safe with him. It wasn't logical. Not when all of the dealings with men throughout her adult life had been calculated and conniving. Even her relationship with Daddy had been to satisfy his own desires, rather than hers. It hadn't even been Melody, herself, who had specifically appealed to him. He could have made any one of a half dozen other teenagers whom she'd known back then into his little. She had just been the first to take him up on his offer and follow it through. She had always understood the situation for what it was, but, at least in that instance, she had willingly agreed, despite the fact that he'd been old enough to be her grandfather, which is what, she guessed, had freaked out a lot of the other girls he'd propositioned.
There might be people who looked in distaste at the relationship she and Daddy had shared, but they'd be wrong to censure him for it. At the end of the day, Melody was nobody's angel. She knew what she had been getting into, and she had used Dad
dy every bit as much as he had used her, because he had been willing to look after her and had given her a place to live. As far as Melody was concerned, that was a giant step up from being aged out of the system, with nothing and nowhere to go and ending up as a drug addict or a hooker…or both. It had been a perfectly symbiotic relationship.
V and his cronies, on the other hand, well, that was a different matter entirely. They were nothing but evil, vindictive beasts, the lot of them, liking nothing more than to torture and torment, physically or mentally—usually both.
V had been merciless enough on his own, but when the rest of his little gang of reprobates were with him, he had been twice as cruel. It was as if he had to show off exactly how evil he could be, exactly how thorough his control over her was. And they were all just as bad, because not one of them had ever lifted a finger to try to help her. No matter what appalling and dreadful things he did, no matter how sick his twisted little games became.
Which brought her all the way back around to Micah and how it made no sense at all for her to trust him, to feel safe with him. But she did.
When she looked at him, she felt things that were completely foreign. Was it appreciation, gratitude? Certainly, both of those things, but it was more than that, and she wasn't entirely sure she could quantify it. She felt this weird little flutter under her breast-bone whenever he did anything for her, and the sensation had only gotten stronger, the longer she had been with him, expanding to cause a slow-motion kind of rollover in her stomach.
Melody didn't know what that meant, only that she had never felt it before. It made her want to do something for him, to give something back. But what did she have to give anyone, except herself? A commodity that had only ever been seen as exactly that—something to use and own and control. Could she give herself? He said he didn't want a slave, and really, that was all she knew.
But she could give him pleasure.
Melody rolled over and looked at him, her breath catching in her throat. He was so very pretty! She knew a man wouldn't like to be called that, especially one as blatantly muscular as Micah, but it was the first thing that came to her mind. His lashes sat like dark crescents against his tanned cheeks as he slept, and Melody could look at him in a way she wouldn't dare while he was awake. His tousled, blond hair had more curl to it, since it had not yet seen a comb, and there was a hint of scruff on his chin which was fair enough that it wasn't really noticeable until you looked as closely as she was now.
And as for his body! Well, she'd seen plenty of men naked and none of them had looked anything like this! His shoulders were wide and defined and his biceps bulged, even in sleep. Melody itched to reach out and run her fingers across the muscular expanse of his chest, which looked like hard steel wrapped in supple silk, and feel the ridges that defined his abdomen beneath her fingers.
Without thinking, she drew the sheet off of him. His thighs were as thick and muscled as his torso; there was nothing top heavy about this man, and Melody couldn't help smiling as a snippet of a memory slipped into her mind of watching the animated series featuring 'He-man' when she was a kid. Yes, Micah could almost be the real-life model for the cartoon figure, although he wasn't quite so muscle bound that his neck had disappeared into his shoulders. Thank goodness!
When she looked at her own skinny arms and legs in comparison, Melody knew Micah was right when he claimed her muscles had probably wasted, but as soon as she was healthier, she was determined to have Micah help her regain her strength and some additional muscle. She wanted to have a shot at being able to defend herself should it ever be necessary in the future. She was determined that never again would anyone take something from her that wasn't given freely.
Maybe she could get a bit of a tan, too. She looked like a ghost with her milky white skin, which had rarely seen sunlight, and the hair which had turned prematurely grey.
She hovered her hand over Micah's chest and looked at the contrast. They were like complete opposites, except for the fact that his hair was also fair.
Her eyes finally wandered to the only part of him that was covered. The fabric of his boxers hugged his flesh like a second skin, moulding itself around a rock-hard bulge which left little to the imagination.
Realising he was erect had a shiver gathering at the back of Melody's neck and tumbling down her spine, and her mouth felt dry. It wasn't fear she was feeling, though. She knew that much.
Her hand hovered lower. Did she dare touch him again? He had enjoyed her touch the day before yesterday, but she had seen the doubt in his eyes. And yet she wanted to do something for him, still, and there wasn't much else she could offer.
Melody swallowed. If she was honest with herself, she would admit that she was curious, too. What would it feel like to have sex with this man? To choose it for herself and be indulged in a way that had never been forthcoming in the past. Was that even a thing? Was there pleasure to be had in an act that she had only ever found frighteningly violent or tediously unsatisfying? Melody frowned. Why did she even want to know? Was it just because she wanted to reward Micah for his kindness, or was it because she wanted to prove to herself that there was something more to that kind of intimacy than just being some crudely rutting brute's fuck hole?
Melody drew in a shallow, shaky breath. She was torn. Men could be vile and depraved; she knew that, to her detriment. But there was some kind of magnetism that was calling her to reach out and put her hands on Micah. He had allowed her to give him pleasure a few days ago, and he hadn't hurt her once. He'd been kind and protective and had allowed her to satisfy her curiosity without making demands. Would he let her do more, or would that be pushing things too far? She could sense a reservation in him, but it wasn't one she understood. In her experience, men took what they wanted, whether it was offered or not, so his reactions were confusing.
But he was asleep, and he didn't look at all scary. In the end, curiosity won out and she pressed her pale hands against his contrasting skin. The difference pleased her, she realised, but her fingernails were ragged and unkempt and they looked incongruous next to all his bodily perfection. Melody pursed her lips and pushed the thought aside.
His skin felt different when it wasn't wet, smooth and sinuous so that her fingers glided effortlessly across it like satin on satin. She could feel the tensile strength in his bulging muscles and thought that she should probably be a little more intimidated, but that was one thing she had never felt around Micah.
She drew her slim fingers across one side of the delineated vee of muscle that pointed to his pelvis and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth watching in fascination as his stomach tensed and his cock jumped beneath the thin barrier of fabric.
Her fingers itched to plunge beneath the waistband, but just as she tentatively dipped her fingertips beneath the wide band of elastic, a big hand caught hold of her wrist and stopped her.
Melody started, her breasts jiggling with the motion, reminding her that she was naked and had pushed the covers aside. Her eyes flew to Micah's and the colour leeched from her face as she saw the query in those sleepy, melted chocolate eyes.
"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered, snatching her hand away and curling them protectively around her torso. "I didn't mean…please…don't beat me!" she pleaded, her head bowed, and her eyes screwed closed while her body trembled.
Micah eased up onto one elbow and reached forward, skating a gentle stroke down Melody's arm. "I am not going to beat you, Melody. Not ever. I've told you that before, remember?"
Melody peered at him from beneath her lashes, her head still lowered.
"Look at me properly," he requested softly, and she slowly raised her head.
"Now, what's going on in that head of yours?" he asked, sitting and drawing the sheet up around his waist.
Melody followed his example and modestly tucked herself beneath the covers.
"I was just curious," she admitted shyly. "And I wanted to give something back, to repay you for everything you've done for me, to show my
appreciation."
Micah leaned his head back against the headboard and swallowed against the dryness in his throat. He'd already allowed this once; he couldn't do it again.
Even though it was Melody, herself, who was initiating this intimacy, it still felt too much like he was taking advantage. Just the thought twisted his gut as if he was deliberately defiling her and adding to her abuse.
Melody didn't know what she was offering. She had been conditioned to think that her only value was in how she could serve a man's needs, and he didn't want to be another man who exploited her in such a way. To take what she was offering would be reprehensible, and he would never be able to live with himself. He'd already gone too far when they'd been in the hydro pool, not wanting her to feel that he'd lied to her about having control and having choice, but for the sake of his own integrity, he had to draw the line somewhere.
He realised that Melody had drawn closer and was pressed up against his side, her fragile looking hand pressed against his chest.
"May I service you please, Master?" Melody asked earnestly.
Sweat popped up on the back of his neck and his stomach roiled. "Micah!" he bit out more harshly than he intended, and Melody flinched at the reproach. With an effort, he softened his tone. He needed to make her understand.
"You do not owe me anything, Melody. There is no payment or reciprocation needed. Not today or any other day. What I do for you, I do freely, do you understand that?"
"I know," Melody murmured softly. "You told me that before, but I think I would like to have sex with you."
