by Jesse Joren
I stared up at the ceiling, trying to think.
Three days were ending. In the morning, Hex would return, or the doors would swing wide to my prison. Or he wouldn't be here and the doors would stay locked, and everything would be a lie.
It was impossible to say which of those options frightened me more. Eventually I drifted into an uneasy sleep.
"I never really went away."
There was no mistaking that voice, even though it was a very long time since I'd heard it.
"Michael?" I whispered.
Some part of me knew that this was a dream. I didn't want to open my eyes and have him fade into the mist.
"Who else?" he laughed.
I opened my eyes and there he was, smiling down at me, the big brother who had always been larger than life. The moon had emerged through the high window, etching him with amazing clarity as he sat on the side of the bed.
He looked exactly the same. Golden-haired, bright as the sun.
"You're a dream," I said.
"Maybe," he agreed. "That doesn't mean that you're getting rid of me that easy." He paused and looked down at me with so much love that tears came to my eyes.
"I knew you were there, at the funeral," he said. "I hated to see you crying. I was fine, but it's like I was asleep and couldn't tell you. I can now. I'm fine, Evie. Don't cry for me anymore."
This, of course, made slow tears ooze out of the corner of my eyes.
"You don't listen worth shit," he said tenderly, stroking the hair back from my forehead.
"So sue me," I choked. "Better yet, tell me how to get out of this place."
He smiled down at me again.
"Maybe it's not time for you to leave. I wish I could stay with you. It doesn't seem to work like that."
"Stay," I pleaded. "At least for tonight."
He sighed.
"This is a bad idea, but okay. Just until you go back to sleep."
I turned toward the wall and felt him lay down behind me. An instant later his arms were around me, strong and reassuring.
"I'm not going to sleep again," I said, stifling a yawn. "That way you can't leave."
Despite my resolve, I drifted into warm half-sleep again, my brother's love surrounding me. Nothing would hurt me while he was there.
"Hey, you asleep?" he whispered.
"I'm awake," I tried to say, but a yawn cut me off.
He chuckled. Something about that laugh was wrong. It was too low, and too filled with something that wasn't my brother.
An arm was across me, a very muscular arm. I struggled to turn over, and it yielded enough to let me move. I rolled onto my back, and the last comforting wisps of the dream vanished.
Light was filtering up from downstairs. Moonlight was streaming in through the high window above my bed. Then I realized why I was so warm.
Hex was fully dressed and in the bed with me.
"How long have you been here?" I demanded.
"Long enough for you to ask me to stay," he said with a crooked smile.
"Anything I said wasn't meant for you," I said, my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest.
He shrugged, his eyes molten and mesmerizing in the soft light.
"I think I'll stay just the same," he said.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Part of me wondered if I was still caught in the borderlands of sleep. A sharper part of my mind knew better. He was too real, with none of the dream-like quality that had surrounded Michael.
"You're sleeping in this bed?" I asked unsteadily.
"I'm staying. How much sleep happens remains to be seen," he said.
He spoke a code toward the ceiling, and a very soft light filled the room. Now I could see the slight smile around his eyes, but he looked tired.
"Where were you?"
"Sorry, I'm not up for questions," he said. "It's better that –"
"—that I don't know," I finished. "Yeah, somehow I figured that's what you'd say."
He laughed and raised up on one elbow, curling a piece of my hair around his thumb.
"One day I'll tell you everything," he said, "and that will be the day that you run away from me screaming, if you're as smart as I know you are."
Some part of me was very aware of how thin the fabric of my gown was. Of how close he was to me.
"This bed smells like you," he said.
He edged closer to the center, gathering me into his arms. My body was dwarfed by his broad chest, his long legs, the masculine smell of him.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Eva," he said. "I came in to leave your things for tomorrow, and I heard you crying. And talking."
Oh god. What had I said there in the darkness? Had he watched me as I pleaded with my dead brother not to leave me? Not a comforting thought.
I braced myself. Now he would ask me a lot of questions. Who was Michael. Why was I sobbing to him in the dark. The dream was fading, but I remembered saying his name.
He gently guided my head to rest on his chest, his arms holding me close in a protective cocoon.
"When the sun is out again," he said, "tell me whatever you want about your brother. Or nothing, if that's your choice. For tonight, just cherish the visit."
Of course he knew who Michael was. He knew everything about me, like some private dark angel.
Held so closely against him, I could hear the slow throb of his heartbeat. The shock and unease of waking up to find him in my bed was fading, replaced with gratitude at not being alone.
Probably that was screwed up. Being so close to him made it hard to think.
"You could have given me more of a warning that you were going to be gone," I said.
"Sometimes I don't know myself," he said. "This was one of those cases. More than three days, and I'm probably dead, then the door opens and you're free."
Many times in the past weeks I'd wished Hex dead or worse. Especially when I was working my ass off on the hated bike. Now a pang went through me at the idea of him being dead.
"I see you won whatever argument you were having with the bike," he said.
"Um, yeah," I said with plenty of guilt. "Guess I was a little stir crazy these past couple of days."
"It can be made better than new in no time," he said with a dark little chuckle.
"I'm not up for any catch-up challenges right now."
"Not tonight," he agreed as his lips brushed the top of my head.
"I'm not up for anything else either," I blurted, hoping he'd understand what I meant.
There was a short pause. His voice was even when he spoke again, but there was a note in it that I couldn't quite place.
"I can still feel your tears right through my shirt," he said. "Do you think I'd take advantage of that? That's not me."
He pulled away from me and stood up. I was sure he was about to leave. Instead he yanked off his T-shirt, leaving him in only jeans.
For the first time I saw his body in all its glory. The soft light rippled over the hard muscles of his chest and arms, the tight lines of his tapered waist. His skin was a tapestry of gold and bronze, a living canvas that only the sun can paint.
"I'm not trying to seduce you," he said with a crooked grin, "but you probably don't want these clothes against you all night. They're wrecked."
Hooking his thumbs into his waistband, he slid off the jeans with one fluid pull. He was wearing pale gray boxer briefs, a sharp contrast to his skin.
Did I check out what was in the boxers? Hell yes. The jeans had hinted at what was there. The shorts left nothing to the imagination. I guess he wanted me after all.
With disbelief I watched him, preparing like he came to bed with me every night. He kicked the clothes aside, and for a moment the light struck his upper arm like a spotlight.
On his upper right arm was a delicate white tattoo, draped like lace over his tanned skin.
Swirling lines spelled out something I couldn't quite see, but my heart sank anyway.
There was only one reason a guy would have a mark so dainty on his arm. A girl. One who meant an awful lot to him.
"What does your tattoo say?" I asked around a dry little click in my throat.
"Rosine," he said without elaborating.
He came back to the bed to stand over me like a Greek god ready to retire for the night. He must have seen the questions in my eyes.
"It was a long time ago," he said. "A story for another time. Or maybe never."
He directed his voice toward the ceiling again. The lights in the cabin began to fade.
He climbed in next to me and took me in his arms, pulling me close. My body fit against his perfectly.
I'd seen the effect I had on him, and the effect he had on me…well, it was there, no matter what I'd said about not being up for anything.
Now he would make a move. And I would say yes. A very enthusiastic yes, all while ignoring my inner voice telling me that I was crazy.
"Good night, Eva," he murmured into my hair. "Sleep. You're safe. Nothing will hurt you while I'm here."
For a very long time I stared into the dark, unable to tell if he was awake or asleep. He was as close to me as he could get without being inside of me, but I was no closer to understanding the enigma that was Hex.
And just who the hell was Rosine?
SEPTEMBER 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Okay, I have something to say to you," Natalie announced, "and if you get pissed, too bad. Wait until I close the door."
Wow. That was some way to start out a Skype. Shutting the door was ominous. Usually she spoke her mind and didn't care who caught the fallout.
"This should be good," I said as she settled back into her chair. "Who did you kill?"
"No one yet. Stella, if she doesn't get off my case. I'm not her bitch, even if her brother does sign my checks."
"So what's the big secret?"
She fixed me with an accusing stare.
"Are you cheating on me?" she demanded.
"What?"
"You haven't been home in over four months. You haven't invited me to Miami—"
"North of Miami," I reminded her.
"When did you become a fucking mapmaker? You never call me at night, only at work. Do you have someone else?"
Natalie didn't have a jealous bone in her body. She wasn't asking about my social life. She was asking me if I was alright.
What had finally tipped her off? For the past few months I'd earned the right to Skype her at least once a week, keeping up the pretense that I was working hard somewhere down in Florida.
These sessions didn't come cheap. A couple of times I'd failed to satisfy the ever-more rigorous demands that Hex set for me. He seemed to know exactly how far my body could be pushed.
"You're going to get an ulcer if you keep holding things in," I teased. "If you have something to ask me, just do it."
"Oh, I plan to do just that," she retorted. "Stella can't see past her fucking bank account, but come on. A research position at the rates that company is paying? Going on for this long? It doesn't happen."
It had been a long time since our conversations veered into dangerous territory. Now the screen slowly darkened in warning.
Natalie saw it too.
"That's another thing," she said. "It's fine when we’re talking about work or gossip or movies or tampons, but anything much more and your screen gets wonky. Like someone is monitoring you."
"We never talk about tampons," was all I could think to say.
The last thing I needed was Natalie's suspicions aroused. These chats were my contact with the world outside Walden. I didn't want them to stop.
"Only one thing has stopped me from calling the cops and putting out a search on you," Natalie went on as the screen dimmed a little more.
My tongue felt like sandpaper. "Phone not charged?" I tried to joke.
"No, smartass. It's because you look so damn great. I figure if something was wrong, like really wrong, you wouldn't be glowing like you are."
She eyed me with speculation.
"You're not holding out me? Are you seeing some hot guy? Kermit made a move? Spill it."
"Yeah. He sprays me with green frog jizz once a day," I said with a nod. "That's the secret to the glow. I'm planning to start selling it."
"Pass. By the way, I'm at work, so watch your language," she said, a little twitch of her lips telling me she was trying not to smile.
The screen slowly began to brighten.
"Please. You cuss every other word."
"That's different," she grinned. "I'm from blue collar stock. I'm fucking allowed. Are you really okay, or do I need to put on my heavy shoes and come down there to kick someone's ass?"
I considered that. An interesting question. Was I okay?
Right now I was in the best shape of my life. My body was getting smaller and more toned every day. Due to the rigorous lessons every evening, my mind was also running in high gear.
Technically I was still a prisoner. Did all that qualify as being okay? There was simply no way to answer that in a Skype.
"Miss Conspiracy Theory," I said. "You worry too much. I'm practically chained to my desk. I need a break, but I doubt I'll get one."
Let the management make whatever he wanted of that.
"There are these little things called labor laws," she said. "When do you work out? Because I can tell you are."
"Believe me," I said with complete truth, "I never know one day to the next what my workout will be."
"Doing a cross-circuit? Those can be killer."
"Uh-huh," I said, thinking of the ingenious ways that Hex kept finding to keep be busy. "Stationary bike. Stairs. Resistance training. A little kick-boxing. That's my favorite."
Now she was grinning.
"You must really be bored. I know how much you hate to work out. Whatever you're doing, it's working. That cheap-ass company could at least spring for a personal trainer."
"I don't know," I said, thinking of Hex. "Those trainers come at a pretty high price."
"But still –" Natalie began.
A male voice interrupted her.
"Are you by chance chatting with Ms. Bright?"
I recognized Phillip St. Claire's tone, brisk and direct.
"Hi Phillip. Yes, I am," she agreed. "We catch up at lunch sometimes."
I glanced at the clock on the wall behind her. It was 8:05 a.m. Atlanta time. Sure it was lunchtime. In London, maybe.
"If you don't mind an interruption, I'd like to talk with Eva, please."
"Sure," she agreed. Nothing ever seemed to take her by surprise. "Eva, you probably heard that. Phillip wants to speak with you, so he's coming your way."
My screen flickered, almost went out, then slowly returned to normal.
Okay, okay. Message received.
She turned her laptop around. An instant later his face filled the screen.
Phillip St. Claire was a great boss and a killer attorney. He was also hot as hell without seeming to fully realize it, which only made him sexier. He was smiling, but his blue eyes were sharp as he appraised me.
"You look very well, Eva. Working on location seems to agree with you."
"Hi Phillip," I said, feeling awkward as usual. "So far it's been great. They keep me busy."
"But you have time to Skype," he said.
It probably didn't look good to him, and I didn't want to make Natalie look bad. It never seemed to work out for us to talk at night.
My reaction wasn't lost on him. There was a reason he was one of Atlanta's best attorneys. His smile became a grin, reminding me that he was only a few years older than us.
"That's not a reprimand," he said. "I'm glad. It keeps you in contact with Natalie. I don't like how this all evolved, but you seem to be doing well."
Again he hit me with that lie-detecting gaze.
First Natalie, now him. They sensed somethin
g, but they couldn't quite figure out what was off in my story. Hex had done a masterful job of maneuvering all of us in one way or another.
"Everything is fine," I told him. "I just hope this doesn't mean I'm out of a job when I come back.
The screen stayed steady.
"We get glowing reports about your work each week," he said. "but I'm not letting someone steal you that easy. If they make a permanent offer, talk to me first, okay?"
Glowing reports. What the hell had Hex been telling them? If – no, when – I returned to my life, I wanted to just go back to being me without a huge set of lies following me.
"Um, sure," was my brilliant reply.
"You have no obligation to stay there, no matter what you may have been told," he added.
I opened my mouth to reassure him, but whatever I was about to say was lost forever. Hex's voice startled me from just over my shoulder.
"Eva, can you please pull that report on the on the Conroe case? Counsel called and—"
He paused as though surprised.
"Sorry about that. I didn't realize you were online."
"Just chatting with the Atlanta office," I said with false brightness. When I turned to glance at him, the shock was nearly too much.
Most of the time he wore casual clothes. Jeans, hoodies, t-shirts, sweats. Now he was a vision in a crisp white shirt and black suit. They were obviously tailored to his body, capturing every lean and sexy line.
For all these weeks at Walden, I'd watched as his dark-honey hair grew out. Now it was pulled back into a short, sleek ponytail.
Expensive black Armani suit, obviously custom tailored. Bad-boy ponytail. No doubt he had a knife hidden somewhere in a secret pocket. On him, it all worked. That familiar, twisting desire took up its place between my thighs.
Hex smiled in a way calculated to charm.
"Can I intrude for a moment?" he asked. "Or are you in the middle of something personal?"
Mutely I nodded as he leaned over my shoulder, brushing against me in a way that might have been accidental…except that I knew him too well by now. Nothing was chance when it came to Hex.
