by Angel Payne
She sighed. “Yep. Sounds right.”
Strands of her brilliant hair fell into her eyes. Zeke let her hand go so he could brush them back. Change of tactic. There were occasions for busting down doors, and there were moments made for silken ropes—especially when they came before the questions he asked next.
“Have you ever dreamed about the bastard’s guards, too?”
Her shoulders wiggled in a semishrug. “Of course.”
“What about them using needles on you?”
She tensed again. He’d anticipated that and made sure he had her tucked in tight, but his bird dropped a shiz of shock on his precautions, turning him inside out by grimacing through fresh tears. But one thing about her expression dug at him the most. The tremor of her chin. It said everything. That valiant, determined wobble…fighting back images that weren’t dreams at all.
His gut writhed in a bath of acid. “Holy shit.”
She slammed a hand on his chest. “No. Don’t. Don’t go ‘holy shitting’ me, Zeke. It’s done. It’s in the past. I’m leaving it there.”
“Right,” he countered. “And that’s why you’re still having screaming nightmares about it.”
He watched her wrestle with that before she pushed at him again. This time, Zeke let her roll back to her pillow. A time and a place for everything—including the silence he allowed to build into uncomfortable stillness.
Rayna squirmed and huffed. Her chin didn’t tremble anymore. She was too busy glowering at him. “You going to sit there and gawk at me until they ship you out again, Sergeant Hayes?”
He let her stew as he got back to his feet in one precision move. He unzipped his jacket, unlaced his boots, and then placed both on the floor near her little reading chaise. On his way back across the room, he shut the door with a quiet click. “I’m respecting your request not to talk about it.”
Her eyebrows high-fived her forehead. “You are?”
“Yep.”
She pushed herself up until she leaned against the headboard. “Thank you.”
He joined her again on the bed. “Hmm,” he finally said, stroking the top of one of her feet through a cute bootie sock. “That may be premature.”
Her foot flinched. He maintained his grip on it. “Premature?” The syllables were laced with suspicion. “Why?”
Zeke carefully schooled his features before looking up from her ankles. He’d honed the talent since the age of ten. When he was a teen on the streets, his facial wall saved his hide countless times. As a sensual and sexual Dominant, it had submissives taking numbers for sessions with him. As a Special Forces mission leader, it came in handy so many times, the team gave him a new call sign—Zsycho.
Right now, it bought him a much-needed ten seconds. He used them well. By the time he issued his reply, he’d swung all the way up on the mattress and gotten both her feet beneath his hands. He leaned closer, his jaw hovering over her knees, in order to let her see two truths in his gaze. One, for the sake of her well-being alone, he wouldn’t accept her refusal again. Two, he was more than ready to back that assertion up, even if it meant waiting her out all night.
“Because you’re not going to like what you’ll do in place of talking, Ray-bird.”
Comprehension began to shimmer against the forest depths of her eyes. Her lips pursed, and she flattened harder against the headboard. “Wh-What do you mean?”
Zeke didn’t move. He kept his hands atop her feet in a gentle but firm embrace. He barely blinked as he willed her stare toward him with equal command. She curled in her arms, surely sensing what he was about to say. And dreading it. And probably hating him a little for it. Like that was going to change one word of what he ordered.
“Show me, Rayna. I need to see what they did to you.”
Chapter Two
Rayna didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
She would’ve taken the laughter option in an instant if she thought Zeke was joking about this. No way. He would have been sweating drops of pure serious—if he were sweating. Instead, every pore in her body erupted in flows that battled in hot and cold rushes beneath the stare of the man who occupied every inch of her vision. Her breaths escaped her in ragged increments.
She wrote off part of that effect to sheer shock. She still barely believed he was here, living and breathing, a few feet away from her. When his in-and-out mission to Korea had turned into more than that, she’d forced herself to get over it and reset her mind to expect him back well after Christmas. But his towering presence and his radiating warmth confirmed the truth. He touched only her feet, but the rays of heat from that contact spread up well past her knees. Damn, it was really him. Damn, she really couldn’t see the rest of the room past him.
Damn, she was really scared.
Okay, it wasn’t all him. She needed perspective when it came to Zeke Hayes. A ton of perspective. She’d known that from the moment he’d carried her out of King’s lair in Thailand, sheltering her in his strength, making her feel safe as a sparrow cuddled by a grizzly. The mountain-sized man with the ocean-wide smile fast became her rock and her friend, clicking into place in her life as if it was always meant to be. When they’d gotten back home, he’d rescued her from King a second time, even taking the man’s knife to his gut in doing so.
During Z’s recovery from that episode, Rayna had gazed at him one night from his hospital bedside and realized she wanted to expand that friend definition. Again, so natural. Again, so right. Those thoughts picked up speed through the weeks after that—until the moment she’d learned how a man like Zeke defined more.
Her stomach clenched with the not-so-subtle reminder. Sage had innocently spilled the truth to her over lunch one day, throwing it into the conversation as if Rayna already knew about Zeke’s not-so-secret identity. Master Z. Not just a lifestyle Dominant but a damn Master at it. A name in the Seattle scene, with submissives wait-listing themselves for sessions with him and standing-room-only status when he gave training sessions for other Doms. Sage’s fiancé and Dom, Garrett, was going to such a lesson that week.
Rope Bondage as Foreplay.
Rope bondage? Foreplay? So they also liked playing with oxymorons at those Dominance/submission dungeons, huh?
Thanks to sipping a lot of iced tea, Rayna had cloaked her astonishment from her friend. Turned out it was easy to keep up the ruse for Zeke, too. It wasn’t like she avoided the subject. She just needed the right chance, she’d assured herself. Time to find the right moment. Time to find the right words.
Time hadn’t been on her side. The text had come from Zeke’s CO, Captain Franzen. The orders were clear. Get his ass back to the base double-time with his gun cleaned, his pack in order, and a shitload of mosquito wipes. They were bugging out right away.
The perfect moment had never come.
Rayna admitted her relief to no one but herself. For the next two months, she pretended the lunch with Sage had never happened. Instead, she clung to the impression Zeke gave her over sporadic texts and satellite phone calls. He was always tired but stalwart, happy to make contact, promising he was thinking of her. She refused to feel anything but grateful for the connections. Guys like him didn’t get the chance to call home often, and he always used his opportunities to reach out to her. Not the waiting list. Her.
She didn’t feel like crowing in triumph anymore. Time to feel exposed as a sparrow again—only, Zeke didn’t look like he wanted to be protective papa bear anymore. With his chestnut hair longer due to the deployment, his beard grown to a rough scruff, and his eyes glittering even in the dim room, he was definitely giving in to the instincts of another creature inside his psyche tonight. A creature called puma.
Hungry, assessing puma.
“Rayna Eleanor?” Both of his dark brows raised expectantly, another expression she’d never seen before tonight. “Did you hear what I said?”
A glower burned its way out before she could stop it. “Really? Five minutes in the door and you’re using the middle name on m
e, Hayes? What the hell?”
He slipped his hands up beneath her sweats, locking on the backs of her calves. She didn’t want to admit how wonderful his long fingers felt on her skin. She didn’t want to admit how this new version of him was affecting her, period. Her heartbeat stuttered. Her skin went clammy and then steamy. Her thoughts broke apart like peanuts in a blender. In just a couple of minutes, he’d wrenched her far, far out of her comfort zone.
She yearned for the Zeke who’d cracked a thousand jokes a minute after the hell of Thailand, who firmly held her through all the nightmares. She yearned for the friend who understood about her lapses into the painful memories yet welcomed her back to reality with an easy grin and a tight hug. She wanted the Zeke she’d had in sunshine and summer, not this sinewy shadow of October night, swallowing her with his gaze and overpowering her with his presence.
Did he use that look with anyone on the list, too?
“You’re stalling.” The words were low but dripped with command. He leaned even closer.
Rayna tried to look away. Like that was going to be possible. “No, I’m not.” She swallowed. “I’m just refusing you, period.”
“Not an option.”
“The hell it isn’t.”
“Not an option, Rayna.”
She pushed out a grunt. “Says you and that invisible army behind you?”
His whiskers undulated as he clenched his jaw. “Says the friend who’s worried about your piercing being infected.”
Dread twisted her chest. How did he know? How much did he know? A deeper stare into his eyes gave her the answers. Those hazel depths had a new tint to them, flecks of brilliant green that always told her he understood way more than he ever said. Damn it. He knew enough, didn’t he? The realization burned awkward heat up her neck and into her face.
“Shit,” she muttered.
“That’s better than ‘no,’” he drawled.
She grimaced. “I spilled the beans in my sleep?”
Zeke didn’t answer that one, though his grip on her calves gentled. He grazed the back of her knees with the tips of his fingers. Hell, that felt good. Such a deceiving prelude for what he was asking—demanding—she do.
“God.” She pressed her hands over her cheeks and slammed her eyes closed. “How much of it did I spill?”
“Enough.” Though his voice still rumbled with its subwoofer of command, he reined back on the imperious edge. “Enough that I’m concerned, bird. If those assholes didn’t disinfect their needle or know exactly what part they had to aim for—”
“Stop.” She flung her hand to his mouth. The scrape of his whiskers on her fingers was oddly soothing compared to the images that laid siege to her brain. She was back in King’s warehouse in Thailand again. The concrete floor was cold on her back as the bastard’s guards held her down, getting ready to spread her legs before they bade the little woman forward, the needle gleaming in her gloved hands.
“Stop. Stop. I can’t, Zeke. I won’t!”
She tried again to kick him away, but damn it, the man was nearly twice her size. He impaled her with a determined stare.
“Rayna,” he ordered evenly, “look at me. Come back to me. You’re not there anymore. You’re right here. I’m right here.” His gaze intensified, the green hues dissolving beneath a flood of deep gold command. “I know this isn’t easy. I just need to make sure…” His jaw stiffened. “If they gave you an infection, we need to know about it now.”
Her reaction was surprising, even to her. She actually rolled her eyes while reaching to the dog tags on her nightstand. “Medical corps, Sergeant, remember? I think I’d know if I had an infection.”
Zeke barely flinched. “So you’ve been checking the piercing site every day?” he countered. “Examining it closely for any redness, swelling, discharge?”
She dropped the tags and grimaced. “Thank you. That officially killed my appetite for the next two days.”
“You’re stalling again.”
She closed her eyes. It was the only way to close him out. Even then, it wasn’t completely possible. He’d shifted even closer, turning his closeness into damn near an embrace. She breathed in his oaky, earthy scent; her inner calves brushed the ridges of his rib cage. “I’ll check it later, okay? I…I promise.”
“And the sun’ll come out tomorrow, Little Orphan Annie?” His grunt wasn’t so gentle this time.
“Yeah. You wanna be my sidekick mutt?”
The softness fled his gaze. “Damn it, Rayna. I’m not messing around.”
“And I’m not one of your submissives!”
She longed to yank the words back the second they left her lips. She hated the remorse they brought to Zeke’s eyes, the dark resignation sweeping across the rest of his face. This wasn’t how she’d wanted to broach this subject with him. From the new dip to his shoulders, she guessed it wasn’t his preferred scenario, either.
“I expected you’d get to that page sooner or later.”
“It was sooner. I just didn’t know how to…” More heat washed her face. “Or what to…” When she lifted her gaze, his was waiting for her. Searching her. He’d studied her like that a hundred times before, so why was her heartbeat faltering now? “It wasn’t like it changed anything for me, Zeke. You’re one of my best friends now.” She added a smile, trying to help the sad edge of her tone. “Actually, other than Sage, you’re my best friend.”
He gave her a lopsided smile in return. Though the look turned his bold features into an irresistible sight, it hardly revealed what he was thinking. His puma side again stomped on the grizzly when he was like this, making her guess at what he’d say or do next. She hoped her confession would yield her one of his engulfing hugs along with an invitation to go downstairs for some Baileys and cocoa and no more talk about the illicit souvenir she’d brought home from Thailand between her thighs.
“Best friend,” he finally murmured. “Thanks, Ray-bird. That makes me feel good.”
Her taste buds tingled in anticipation of the cocoa. She smiled a little wider. “I’m glad.”
“You know what they say about best friends, don’t you?”
“What?”
“They’re the perfect person to share a new piercing with.”
She rammed her knee into his shoulder. “Asshat.”
The blow didn’t stop him by a single inch. He leaned ever closer, cocking a dark brow with unnerving confidence. “Okay, then. If you don’t want to be friends anymore, I’m sure Trevor will want to hang. I think I just heard him open some chips. Fuck, I miss chips. I’ll bet they’re those good salty ones you keep around too, huh? They’ll go so good with him hearing about how his sister might have a piercing infection from her overseas captivity, not to mention how she’s been ignoring her meds and her general emotional well-being. That’s bound to be way more interesting than the latest Seahawks news, yeah?”
“Aggghh!” She tossed up both her hands. “Fine, okay? You win.”
Not that she was going to make it easy for him. She glared when he pulled her hand to his lips and pressed a rough kiss to her knuckles. Nervy shithead. The Mr. Darcy act didn’t eclipse his George Wickham maneuver. “Just get it over with,” she muttered.
Zeke didn’t reply to that, and she was grateful. With commanding efficiency, he moved his hands to her hips in order to pull her to a prone position. Rayna squeezed her eyes shut. Just being in this physical position was enough to pull the trigger on the panic bullets again. She pulled in deep breaths, visualizing Wonder Woman bracelets on her wrists to deflect them. That wasn’t as effective as remembering Zeke’s words. She was safe. She wasn’t in Thailand anymore. These were her sheets at her back, not a concrete floor. Nobody was going to trap her or do anything she didn’t want, or make her feel—
Unnerved. And more than a little terrified.
Her mouth went dry as he tugged at the waistband of her sweats. They came down easily for him, making her wonder just how many times he’d performed the move. He made he
r panties follow with even more practiced speed, coming off in his grip with a trio of soft thwicks.
Rayna pressed her lips together as the cool air brushed her naked skin. For every slick move he pulled, her body broke out in mortified goose bumps—though she’d spill her savings account before revealing this was the first time she’d ever been bare like this for a man’s gaze. She wasn’t a prude. She and virginity had parted ways the summer after she’d graduated from high school, but it had happened in a pitch-dark room. That was just fine for a girl who’d grown up fighting off her brothers so much, she often had better muscles than her lovers. She’d fast made friends with the shadows when it came to sex.
There were no shadows now.
But this also had nothing to do with sex. Not a damn thing. Not a thing. Not a thing. Not a thing.
She timed the mantra with every frantic breath that left her as Zeke set her clothes aside and then turned back and settled his weight between her legs again. She braced herself for what he’d do next. For the push against her legs, the vulnerability of her body, the humiliation of his gaze on her disgrace. The way he’d prod at the piercing, reminding her that a part of her ordeal would never leave her. That the nightmare would never really go away.
He lowered his fingers to her skin. Against her hips.
Bewilderment dragged her eyes open. Again, the man’s size made him take up most of her view, but Rayna’s focus was seized by more than that. In the last minute, his face had changed again. The hungry puma was gone. The protective grizzly wasn’t back yet, either. But what she stared at wasn’t another beast. He was all man. A man who took her in with a gaze like heat beneath coals, instead of his typical sparks and intensity. A man with a full-lipped mouth that seemed finally at rest, instead of quirks that obeyed the slightest changes of his temperament. A man who slid the pads of his fingers along her skin, slowly and reverently, almost like a kid learning a new texture.
“You’re beautiful, you know.” He traced her hipbones with his thumbs.
