by J. L. Madore
His family fucked him over because of a health condition he had no control over. They beat him and tried to kill him. Trust me, that’s not a betrayal you forgive and forget.
The venom of his rant rang true. Savage wasn’t talking about Waylon and the wolves anymore.
“So, what now?”
Now, you rest. You’re out of questions. He pointed to the hall that led back to her bedroom. I’ll bring the cattle in. I’ve already taken care of your guests in the pasture, but when they fail to return, others will come. The weather should hold them off for a bit, but we need to figure out what’s going on and take steps to ensure you’re clear of the conflict. You need to be rested and at your best.
Hannah sighed. She wasn’t in any shape to be out herding cattle, and he was an adept farmhand despite him not looking the part. But how was a mute killing machine supposed to find out why a beloved pack alpha and his family were murdered?
Did he know what he was up against?
“No offense, but Waylon should take care of this.”
Savage’s lips turned up in a cruel smile. You doubt that I’ll keep you safe? He dipped his chin, his gaze narrowing on her. He’d always been a big ball of angry, but someone or something had wound him up tight tonight.
He waited, glaring at her. She read the challenge in his gaze as if everything hinged on how she answered. “I have no doubt you’re capable of protecting me. I simply think it’s more Waylon’s problem than yours.”
Wrong. Like I said, everything that happened between us was honest. Like it or not, you’re mine to protect. Mine to worry about. Mine to care for. Now, lay down and get a few hours rest. It’ll be morning soon enough.
Mine? She wasn’t chattel, and this wasn’t the Dark Ages. His autocratic claim made her bristle in every direction, yet she couldn’t disagree she needed to lay her head down and close her eyes. At least for a while.
I waited in the darkness of the front hall until Hannah was out cold, then moved to the couch to cover her up and tuck her in. When she first saw me in the shadows, I braced for her anger, but it didn’t come. The fight I expected was strangled by sadness—disappointment in me—and regret burning in her daggered gaze. I fucked up, and it twisted my guts. I should have manned up and explained why I had to leave.
Except, if I laid it out and she still asked me not to go, I wouldn’t have had the strength to leave her. I wanted to stay and let the problems of the world sort themselves out, but couldn’t do it.
Staring down at her, I fingered the silky strands of long, brown hair and smiled as a curl wrapped around my finger. She might not realize she belonged to me, but her body did. Clinging to that one smoldering ember of hope, I tried to figure out how I could earn her trust back.
The look in her eyes when I claimed her highlighted how deep that hole I dug for myself went. I faced a steep uphill battle. Not that that scared me.
I kicked ass in battle.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I believed if I explained why I left, she’d forgive me. Now, I wasn’t so sure.
The glow of firelight dance across her scuffed cheek and I growled deep in my chest. If Hannah hadn’t been in imminent danger, I would’ve liked to kill that fucker slow and with an enormous amount of pain.
Oh, the regrets of rash decisions.
Before heading out, I drank in one last look. How could a person be both incredibly delicate and resiliently tenacious at the same time? How sexy was it that she held me at gunpoint?
I smiled. I’d gladly take a bullet if it eased the pain of my betrayal. After clicking off the lamp, I grabbed her chunky knit scarf and gathered my jacket off the back of one of the antique kitchen chairs.
With a smack to my thigh, Chief jumped up and joined me for the outing. Despite what I said, I needed help. Good thing Chief never turned down a chance to have some fun in the fields.
The bite of the wind slapped my face. I pulled on my gloves and tied Hannah’s scarf around my ears and mouth. I’d never been one for the cold and this was brutal.
It worked in my favor that I hadn’t unsaddled the horse. The brawny chestnut was ready to head back outside and get to work. This would suck, but the obstinate male in me reveled in the knowledge that I was out suffering in the storm and she was safe, warm, and resting.
Who said chivalry was dead?
CHAPTER THREE
Hannah couldn’t sleep in if she tried. Born and raised on this farm, her internal clock established itself decades ago. Chores to be done. Animals to be fed. Fences to be checked. Supplies at the Co-op to pick up. A rancher’s workday stretched out from before dawn until after dusk. And then there was Riley. Raising a budding teen was a full-time job as well. She loved every minute of both, but she was tired.
Waking up tired on a four-thousand-acre ranch was a bad sign. Eyes closed, she gave herself a moment. The world outside raged, wild and feral. The wind screeched against the side of the sprawling bungalow. The double-hung windows rattled in their paint-encrusted frames. And the creaks and knocks of the roof and walls suggested the old house was wore out too.
Lying there, assessing her surroundings, she felt him.
Whether it signaled she remained that attuned to him or gotten used to waking up alone, his presence ignited a warm tingle beneath her skin. All kinds of hot and heavy ideas of how to spend a snow day came to mind. How long had it been since her body heated, aware of a man?
Oh, about three years.
She blinked against the gray of dawn, and yep, Ste—dammit—Savage overflowed Granny Jean’s rocking chair in the corner of her bedroom. Snoring softly, her black knight slept, a gun resting on each of his thighs. She’d talk to him about that. With Riley around, she obsessed about gun storage and keeping things locked in the gun cabinet.
He, of course, didn’t know about her yet.
How would they take to each other? He wasn’t a nurturing guy. Who was she kidding? He was hard and scary most of the time . . . but there were moments when she’d seen his soft and gooey insides.
At least she thought she had.
She shifted against her mattress and frowned. She’d fallen asleep on the couch, and here she was, on her bed. Lifting the quilt, she let off a worried breath, pleased she still wore the clothes from last night. So, even though he claimed she was his, he didn’t think he had carte blanche control over what went on with her.
Good. He wasn’t welcome back like he never left. It would serve him right if she had a hunky fiancé heating her sheets at night. She didn’t, but it would serve him right.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t open to falling in love and settling down—that would be great—but Woodsboro Creek was a small town. Without wanting to, she knew everything there was to know about every bachelor in town. Who they took to high school dances, if their team went all-state, who drank too much, who slept around too much—everything.
Nobody sparked her interest. No one measured up.
Savage’s broody, soul-tormented air had sucked her in. Now it seemed to be the only thing that riled her up. When they were together, she wanted to help him work through his issues. She thought she’d shown him he could trust her.
And then he left.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice—nope, she wouldn’t go through that again. Her life was complicated enough without taking on an emotionally distant fixer-upper.
If she let her heart get away from her, she’d be piecing it back together. Again. For Riley’s sake, she’d keep this simple and fight their sexual pull. Her sister needed her to set an example and focus on saving the farm and feeding the herd through the winter.
She could do this.
She could stick to the business at hand—find out what happened with Myra and the wolves, and keep him at arm’s reach. Yeah, right. Well, she could try. Hannah sat up and sucked in a breath as hot shards of pain shot up her arm.
Savage moved so fast she didn’t register how he’d gone from sleeping in the chair to crouched in front of her
, panning the room with his weapons.
“Sorry,” she said, cradling her wrist. “I wanted to check on Myra and get chores started. I forgot about my wrist. Did you splint this?”
Savage holstered his guns at the small of his back and nodded, looking half-asleep. Does it hurt bad?
The mercurial shift from killer to concern made her head spin. One minute, he was ready to gun down anyone who came in the door, the next, he looked like he wanted to plump her pillows.
“I’m good—unless you can magically fix my wrist and make it stop hurting, then yeah, let’s do that.”
His strange expression made her wonder what he was thinking. With him, she always wondered what he was thinking. A shiver racked him. He tried to shake it off, but she saw he wasn’t comfortable.
“You’re soaking wet.” She remembered his promise to bring in the cattle before the storm. It looked like he didn’t get done before it hit. “Mercy, your hands are like ice.”
She pressed a hand to his stubbled cheek, and he leaned into the contact. The unnatural warmth of his brow had her frowning and patting his shirt. “Why didn’t you get out of these wet clothes?”
I didn’t bring a change and didn’t think you’d appreciate me rocking the Full Monty when you woke up.
“I won’t appreciate you dying of pneumonia because of me either. I’ll run you a hot bath. Get out of those clothes.”
He flashed her a lascivious smile. Awake five minutes and ordering me to get naked? You haven’t changed.
She rolled her eyes and headed into the bathroom. One of the best things about having a century-old farmhouse was the massive, clawfoot tubs. They were big enough for a man like Ste—Savage to sink way down and fully submerge in the warmth of a bath.
As the water level rose in a thundering rush, she eyed him up. “And you’re bleeding.” On his side, a mess of bloody bandaging hung loose. She picked at the tape to peel it free.
I’m fine. The wolf just got a lucky snap.
“And what’s this?” She pointed at a second wound that looked nothing like an animal bite.
Bar fight fun before I came.
Fun? He put up a good front, but despite him playing the tough guy, he was a big fat faker. Now who was swaying and needed to rest? “I’ll find something for you to wear while your clothes are washed and dried.”
I’m fine, he signed. Really.
“You promised me no lies. Don’t ruin it. My kid sister lives with me now. The last thing she needs is to see your junk airing out.”
Leaning over the tub to the window ledge, she selected two bottles. After adding eucalyptus and lavender to the water, she fetched a couple fresh towels from the cupboard. She caught an eyeful as she returned and stopped dead.
She’d seen him naked dozens of times, but she’d never seen the evidence of his brutal life marring his skin. Where had all those scars come from?
He must have caught her intake of breath because he stiffened and scowled. Hiding my scars would be a lie, right? This is me, as honest as I get.
He held his arms out from his sides and gave her a half-turn. The ornate inkwork covering his skin did a lot to distract from his battle scars—that, and the impossible beauty of his body itself. She’d forgotten how incredibly fit the man was.
She looked at the scabby mess from the wolf attack and the bar fight and all the other evidence of violence. It hurt her to think how many times he’d suffered injury. Had he gotten all those in the past three years? Had he suffered alone?
“There are so many.” She traced a six-inch ridge of buckled skin from his rib to the dip of his spine. “How can you endure this kind of brutality and remain a soldier?”
He shrugged. Being a soldier isn’t what I am—it’s who I am, to the very marrow of my bones.
She supposed some people were born to it. “Do they hurt you now?”
He shook his head.
Good. Her fingers continued to document his life’s battles down his back and across his buttocks until he walked out of her reach. When he headed for the toilet and lifted the seat, she took the hint and gave him some privacy.
I stepped away from Hannah before I turned and took her to the bathroom floor. With my back to her, she hadn’t witnessed how the warmth of her fingers brushing over my scars affected me. Thanks to the sensory trip down injury lane, my cock was up, hard, and aching for her. Thankfully, she took the hint and left. Now I just had to stand over the toilet and wait for things to settle down.
The good news—she still loved me. I saw it in her eyes when she looked me over and felt the air spark when we were in the same room together.
The bad news—the pain was there too, deep and raw. I did serious damage by leaving without explanation.
Once I flushed and washed my hands, I stepped into the massive tub. The water displaced with my weight and rose to bob against my chest. I’d never admit it, but a hot soak with the vapor of Hannah’s flowery oils coming off the water was the closest thing to heaven I’d experienced in ages.
It beat slaying enemies. It beat drinking with my brothers-in-arms. The only thing it didn’t beat was making love to Hannah. I hoped that option opened up to me again one day. There had always been sensual ease between us, and at least that remained intact. She watched me strip down with more than clinical interest.
I could work with that.
“Holy crapballs.”
I opened my eyes and followed the exaltation to the girl in flannel PJs eyeing me from the doorway. I scanned her position, the height of the tub walls, and the distance between the doorway, and my exposed parts and pieces.
“Hannah finally gets laid. Thank you, baby Jesus. She’s soooo uptight. She needs to work off some stress, you know? Maybe you do. You look like you’re no stranger to stress. Nice ink, by the way. You’re not from around here, right? So, where’d you come from? The city? North Highland, I’m guessing, amirite?”
I blinked up at the highly animated, mini-me version of Hannah. Same silky chestnut hair falling straight past her shoulders, same oval face and rich, chocolate eyes. Was this what she was like as a kid? It was hard to imagine her with this much life bubbling out.
Hannah was deeply changed by her mother leaving their family as a child, and I met her while she mourned her father. We didn’t talk about her childhood much, but I knew she considered her father her only parent.
“You don’t talk much, eh?”
I stretched my chin up and pointed to the scar left behind from my brother stripping me of my voice box and gods-given power of verbal persuasion.
“Sick. Did you get ganked in a gang fight?”
This kid was hilarious. She started moving in, and I held up my palm. The tub was deep. From across the bathroom, I had a bit of privacy. If she got any closer, she’d get an eyeful. I swept my fingers away in hopes she’d get the gist.
“Yeah, okay,” she said, undeterred. “We’ll talk in a bit. There’s time. Snow day! Awesomeballs, right? ’Kay, so, I’ll make pancakes. You like pancakes? Of course you do. Everyone likes pancakes. I put chocolate chips in them. You’re not allergic, are you? ’Kay, so, twenty minutes? Nah, you look wiped. How ’bout half an hour? I’ll go tell Hannah the plan.”
I gave her a thumbs up, as much to get her to leave as anything else. Scarring the kid sister wasn’t likely to win me any points. With the silence renewed, I laid my head back, deciding whether to jump out and get dressed or enjoy a few more minutes.
Closing my eyes, I gave myself over to soaking.
“Is that a smile?” Hannah swept back into the master bath and closed the door. “Will wonders never cease.”
I left the smile in place and my eyes closed. Raising my hands, I let the water rain down as I spoke. My mysterious, tough-guy image is ruined forever. I met the sister. She’s got energy to burn.
“No kidding. She’s great though, and I love her to bits. I didn’t even know about her until I got the call from Tulsa Family Services.”
I sat up and ga
ve her my full attention. What happened?
“A couple of months after you left, my mother and her second husband were killed in a car accident. The placement decision was between me and a great aunt on her father’s side. I won the lottery and inherited a ten-year-old. We’ve been fumbling to keep it together ever since.”
I’m sure you’re an amazing team. She’s a cool kid.
Hannah’s gaze narrowed. “I won’t let you use Riley to make good with me.”
Not what I was doing.
“Somehow, I doubt you see a chatty, pushy teenager as anything other than a pain in the ass.”
Maybe my reputation as a badass asshole is overrated.
“Not by my experience.” Anger tainted her voice, and the effect didn’t suit her.
I can be more than that.
“I thought so, once upon a time. I won’t make that mistake again.”
I’m sorry. I fucked up and hate that I hurt you.
“You’ve said that.”
And I’ll keep saying it until you believe me.
“I believe you. It just doesn’t change anything.”
The regret in her eyes pierced me as if a dagger lanced my chest. Rising to my feet, I snagged the towel off the rack and stepped onto the cushy blue bathmat.
“What are you doing? You just got in there.”
I patted the moisture from my arms, neck, and chest before wrapping my hips tight and tucking in the towel tail to keep things covered. Riley is making me pancakes. Believe me or don’t. I like the kid.
“Don’t hurt her. It won’t end well for you.”
I frowned, at the green plaid shirt and pink lamby pajama pants she’d brought for me to wear. Payback? I didn’t give a shit. I would wear a tutu and heels if it got me closer to taming her anger. A warm drip slid down my side, and I reevaluated my drying procedures.
The two holes in my side were leaking a pale pink stain toward my towel. Freeing a few tissues, I blotted it off before I ruined her linens. You got any gauze strips lying around?
“Sorry. I don’t patch many knife wounds. I’ve got some wraps I use on the horses.”
