Denial

by Lisa Renee Jones

  The question is a soft demand I can’t really answer. “It just came to me. I think . . . I know he made me call him that.”

  “Made you? I’ve played around in that world, Ella, and you don’t make someone call you Master. It’s a choice. The submissive is ultimately in control, and I have no interest in your being my submissive. Because I like control during sex doesn’t make me your Master. You call me Kayden, or asshole; I don’t care. I care about your pleasure and your safety.” His tone is vehement, anger barely contained in its depths, and I can feel the thunder of his heart beneath my palm where my hand has settled. “Tell me you understand.”

  “Yes. And it matters to me in ways I’m not sure I even understand yet. I don’t want to say no to you, Kayden.”

  “But you can. Even after you say yes.” He cups my face and repeats those words. “Even after you say yes.”

  “I know.”

  “Now your promise.”

  “I promise.”

  He kisses me, a deep caress of his tongue against mine that entices, seduces, but I taste the gentleness in him, the worry, that places him, and us, so far from his version of “dirty” I am not sure we can find it again. “Don’t you dare coddle me,” I demand, shoving against his chest and grabbing the silk sash he’s allowed to fall to the floor. “Tie me up.”

  “Not tonight.”

  “Yes, damn it. Tonight. You promised me a new memory, and I want it. Don’t take that from me.”

  “Ella—”

  “I need to face my fears. I need to know he doesn’t win.”

  His expression tightens, his eyes probing mine, searching. I hold out my wrists. “Trust,” I say. “I’m giving it to you. Take it.”

  “I want far more trust than I’m sure you should give me.”

  “What does that mean?”

  His chest expands, thick lashes lowering, forming dark circles on his cheeks, my eyes lingering there a moment, and I think . . . I think the past he’s talked about being a part of us has found its place in this moment, and for him that is guilt, and mistrust of himself.

  “I trust you,” I whisper, holding out my hands.

  He doesn’t look at me but he shackles my wrists, easily holding them with one hand while he twines the silk around them with the other. And when his gaze finally collides with mine, the man I want and need is back within reach, darker flecks of blue heating the pale blue of his stare. “It’s loose enough that you can slide out of it if you absolutely want to. Next time it won’t be.”

  The way he says ‘next time it won’t be’ sends an erotic thrill down my spine. I don’t know why or how it is possible, but being at Kayden Wilkens’s mercy is sexy and exciting, not terrifying. Not about fear and degradation. “Understand?” he asks, and it’s more than a question. It’s a clear opportunity for me to use the word no he has stressed is mine to own and control.

  “Yes,” I say, choosing the word to send a message. I’m making my choice, and trusting him is that choice.

  “Be clear, Ella. I’m going to push tonight. Not the way I’m capable of pushing you, but you won’t argue with me on that.” He tightens his grip around my hands. “You will not win that war. Now you say ‘yes.’ ”

  “Yes,” I whisper, the absoluteness in him too intense to fight.

  “That time will come, and I’m not ready yet to find out how you’ll react. Not because of some man in your past. Because of me. Because right now, I don’t deserve that kind of trust.”

  “Kayden—”

  He kisses me, fingers twining roughly, erotically in my hair, and I taste the demons of his past, the inner war he battles but will not fully allow me to fight with him. I lean into him, trying to feel him close, but he is quick to deny me that touch, and almost as if he is punishing me for trying, he tears his mouth from mine, leaving me panting for the more that is now out of reach.

  He moves behind me, the thick ridge of his erection nestling between my thighs, pressing into the silky wet heat of my sex, teasing me with how easily he could be inside me. And I want him inside me. His hands caress up and down my sides, leaving me cold where he is not touching and hot where he is. I arch into him, my breasts thrusting in the air, a silent plea for his hands, but I am granted only a side brush, a light tease of fingers on my pebbled nipples. A soft brush of fingers on my clit never fully realized.

  “Kayden,” I whisper, squeezing my thighs around his shaft, the need for everything when he gives me so little pure torture I can do nothing to resolve.

  “Lean forward,” he urges, a command in his voice. “Elbows on the rug.” He doesn’t give me time to digest the order, pressing me forward, hand flattening on my back, the position thrusting my backside into the air, leaving me vulnerable and exposed, but there is no time to think of what might happen. He cups my backside, caressing me over and over, and his words play in my mind. I will tease you. Bite you. Spank you. As if he is in my head, his palm lifts and comes back down with a fast smack that is not painful, but shocking, and has me yelping and trying to sit up. But that hand of his is back on my spine, holding me down.

  “Trust,” he says. “Do I have it or not?”

  I bite my bottom lip, willing my heart rate to calm. He hasn’t hurt me. Not even close, and I whisper, “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

  He smacks the other cheek. Not a spanking. No pain. Just a slight sting that delivers an erotic thrill and the promise of so much more, if not now, soon. Too soon. Not soon enough. My sex clenches fiercely and I want the hidden part of him he still denies, but I know he will not give it to me tonight. He will not rush this and as much as I want to change that, there is safety, there is trust I can give him, in knowing he is being cautious with me.

  His hands drag up and down my sides, and then finally, his body curves around mine, and he is hot and hard between my thighs, sliding the head of his cock along the slick line of my sex. “I need—”

  “I know what you need,” he promises, but he does not give it to me. He slides his shaft back and forth, the nerve endings he is touching lighting up like the fire burning in front of me. I sink lower into the rug, weaker with need, and finally, finally, he presses into me, driving deep and fast, his cock finding the farthest part of me and staying there. He isn’t moving, and I am panting to the point I can barely breathe when finally he pulls back and thrusts hard into me. And oh God, that one hard pump and already I am on the edge of orgasm. Another thrust and I push against him, his only reply his hand bracing my hips, his cock nudging left, right, deeper, before he starts a fast, hard pumping rhythm. I lose time. I lose the room. The rug. The silk at my hands. I climb that peak of pleasure and tip over far too fast, all but collapsing as my body clenches around him. His hand flattens on my belly, holding me up, and then he is shaking, shattering with me, the deep, guttural sound he makes a sexy, erotic charge that ripples through me.

  I shut my eyes, riding his pleasure with him, sighing with the way he slowly relaxes against me, his fingers softening at my hips, and then he folds himself around me, holding me in the most intimate of ways. “You okay?” he murmurs near my ear.

  My lips curve at what is becoming our little question to each other. “Yes. Are you okay?”

  He laughs, low and sexy. I really love his laugh. I think I can really love this man. “You’re naked,” he says. “Of course I’m okay. Let me get rid of this condom and I’ll untie you.”

  He pulls out of me and I gasp, which earns me another one of those sexy laughs. “The feeling’s mutual,” he says of my reaction.

  A smile on my lips, I sit up, my eyes lifting to the fireplace, and I don’t know why, but I see the past in those flames. I flash back to the club. I am there, living it again, afraid. So afraid.

  He shoves me to my knees and I try to get up, but he holds me while the woman in leather ties me up, stretching one arm to the side and roping it, then the other. I fight. I fight as hard as I can but he, he holds me down and then I am bound, a prisoner, and he moves away. I hear her speak to him.
“How badly do you want her bruised?”

  He squats in front of me, caressing my lips, and I try to bite him. Fury radiates off him and he stands. “Don’t leave scars.”

  I blink the fireplace back into view. “Kayden! Kayden!” I try to free my hands, but I’m shaking so hard I can’t get them free. “Untie me. Untie me now! Please! Now!”

  Kayden kneels in front of me, ripping away the silk in a flash. “Sweetheart. I’m sorry.” He cups my face. “I would never—”

  I grab his arms. “It’s not you. We . . . we are good. He . . . he tied me up. He had me whipped. That’s what woke me up yesterday, but I didn’t want to tell you, and—”

  “He fucking beat you? Tell me it’s Niccolo and I will go there, beat him, and kill him, tonight.”

  “I still don’t know. And you don’t get to beat him and kill him—I do. Do you hear me? I do! And now I’ve made it so you can’t be you with me. Tie me back up. Tie me back up now.”

  He takes us down on the rug, pulling me close, his legs twined with mine. “I’m not tying you back up.”

  “Kayden—”

  “No.” His tone is absolute. “Fuck, Ella. I teased you with a possible spanking, and now you tell me he beat you? I should never have let this happen tonight, when you just remembered your father’s death.”

  “I’m right. You’re going to be afraid with me.”

  “No. I’m not, but the timing of this was wrong.” He strokes my hair behind my ear, his voice softening. “We will get by this and we will be okay together. I promise you.” He molds me to him, into the cocoon of his body. “Tell me about dancing.”

  I blink at the sudden change of topic. “Dancing?”

  “Yes. I want to hear about dancing. I want to know about what you love. Who you are. What you want from life.”

  My fingers tease a loose silky strand of his light brown hair, tears prickling my eyes. “You’re amazing, Kayden Wilkens.”

  “The feeling’s mutual, sweetheart.” He kisses my knuckles. “Now. Tell me. You danced. You dance.”

  Tension uncurls inside me, replaced by an image of my mother smiling as she watches me dance, both of us in ballet slippers, a piece of the past coming back to me. “My mom was a dance teacher, and I took it seriously enough to audition for either a big production or an elite school. I think it was a school. It was important to me and to her. Her gift to me was dance. My father’s was the ability to protect myself. I’m eager to see if I remember dancing as well as I remember shooting a gun.”

  “A woman who can dance and shoot. Sexy, sweetheart.”

  I smile. “Let’s wait and see if I can actually dance.”

  “We both know you can.” He lifts up on one elbow. “The school thing is interesting.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There can’t be that many elite dance schools.”

  Hope rises inside me. “You think you can find me that way?”

  “It’s a long shot, but everything is worth trying.” He stands and takes me with him.

  “What are we doing?”

  “I want to show you something.” He snatches his shirt and hands it to me. “Put that on, and socks or slippers. The castle floors are cold.”

  I pull it over my head and he drags on his jeans commando style, not bothering to zip them. I stuff my feet in my slippers. “Where are we going?”

  He smiles and shakes his head, a long lock of light brown hair teasing his forehead. “It’s a surprise.” He motions me to the door and holds it open, and I follow him into the hallway, shivering with the cold, deciding I should have bought a robe today. Kayden hits a button on the wall and a panel opens. I grin. “I love this castle.”

  “I’m glad you do.” He waves me forward and I step inside a small foyer to find a path with heavy stone steps wide enough for both of us. Kayden steps to my side and we start the climb that halfway up forks left, right, or straight.

  “Straight up,” he says, but I am curious about every direction.

  “I’m exploring tomorrow. That’s all there is to it.”

  “After the doctor. I meant to tell you. Nathan called while you were in the lingerie store. He got you an appointment tomorrow afternoon.”

  “For Giada, too?”

  “Oh, yeah. Her too. The idea of her pregnant was enough to get my attention.”

  I laugh, and it hits me that it’s truly a miracle I can laugh after all that has happened today, and it’s because of Kayden. I can only hope I do the same for him. Finally, at the top of the stairs, we enter an incredible, well-equipped gym with moonlight peeking through a giant, arched floor-to-ceiling window. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

  “Are you kidding? One mention of the gym and Marabella will be feeding you gallons of ice cream. She’s convinced you’re too skinny.”

  “She just wants an excuse to feed us all,” I say as he walks to the far right wall and punches a button; with no surprise at this point, it slides open and reveals a secret room. He waves me forward, and ever so curious, I enter to find a long, empty rectangular room with hardwood floors. “What is this room?”

  He leans on the door frame. “Your new dance studio, if you want it to be.”

  A dance studio. The idea hits a nerve, a piece of my past I don’t know but feel. I hug him, tilting my chin up to look at him. “This is the sweetest thing ever.”

  “Something no one else would ever call me.” He wraps an arm around my waist, sealing us together, one hand cupping my face. “And he, whoever he is, will not think I’m sweet when I am done with him. That absolutely is a promise.”

  The next morning, Kayden has some sort of lead on Enzo. He doesn’t seem eager to talk about it, but the result is him calling a meeting with a group of local Hunters to be held in his “War Room” in the central tower. In light of this event, he lines up Nathan to escort Giada and me to the doctor, despite my insisting we can handle it on our own. I’m not sure if that means I’m less safe than he’s claimed or if he’s just being his protective self, both of which are easy to believe.

  Whatever the case, Giada and I meet in the main foyer and laugh as we come face to face in almost the same outfit of skinny black jeans, black sweaters, and boots. The only difference is her black leather coat and my trench coat.

  “Twinkies,” she claims, and we exit the castle to find Nathan’s black Mercedes waiting on us. Even his car screams Mr. GQ Doctor and I relax a little. If Kayden were really worried about my safety, he’d have sent someone else with us.

  Nathan steps out of the car and motions us forward, his brown hair fluttering in a cold breeze. “He’s so damn sexy,” Giada murmurs. “I get the front seat.”

  “He’s at least fourteen years older than you,” I remind her.

  “And a doctor. That’s hot.” She dashes down the stairs and manages to be inside the car before I even reach the vehicle.

  Nathan lingers where he is, speaking to me over the hood of the car. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine. Thank you.”

  “That call I got last night did not sound fine. We need to talk about that when we get a moment alone.”

  I give him a quick nod and climb into the backseat, rethinking my assessment of Nathan as our escort. Kayden’s worried all right, but not about strangers attacking us. It’s about the way my past is attacking me, and us. “How far is the doctor’s office from here?”

  “Only about ten minutes,” Nathan says, maneuvering us onto the narrow roadway, and since I really don’t want to spend the ride fearing for my life, I sink low in the seat.

  Giada has no such issues, chatting away with Nathan. He is courteous but reserved, and I’d be disappointed in him otherwise. He also keeps eyeing his mirror, and there’s that hint of hardness beneath his surface I’d seen the day in the store. He’s The Undergound’s doctor, and something tells me he’s as lethal as he is a healer.

  Once we’re at the doctor’s office, Giada and I are taken into exam rooms at the same time, and my
checkup is pretty painless. The result is a birth control injection I’ll have to repeat every three months. When I’m done I join Nathan back in the lobby, sitting next to him.

  “You want to tell me about yesterday?” he asks.

  “Amnesia is hell. When I remember things that are painful, it’s like I’m experiencing them all over again. Instead of having years of healing behind me, the process starts all over again.”

  “Are you sleeping?”

  “I am, but I wake up to some pretty crappy memories sometimes.”

  “I can give you something to knock you out.”

  “As much as I appreciate that, there are far more reasons to remember than to forget, and drugs are only going to delay the process. And right now it seems the memories are starting to really flow.”

  “That’s a good thing.”

  We’re silent for a little while, and I finally broach a subject I’ve been worrying about. “How often are you needed by The Underground?”

  He gives me a direct look. “That’s not your real question. What do you really want to know?”

  “How often do they get hurt?”

  “You’re worried about Kayden.”

  “How can I not be? You told me he takes the dangerous jobs.”

  “You need to have this conversation with Kayden.”

  “You can’t give me an answer I like, so you aren’t going to give me one at all.”

  “Talk to Kayden.”

  His phone beeps with a text and he pulls it from his pocket, glancing at the screen with a frown. “How about checking on Giada? Kayden wants me in the meeting he’s holding after all, and I have a patient who was just admitted into the hospital. Not a good combination.”

  I want to ask for details, but he’s already standing and stepping into the hallway, probably to make a call.

  Fortunately, Giada comes into the lobby just then, looking irritated. “We need to hurry back. Adriel’s in a pissy mood for me to get back and run the store.”

  So Kayden wants Adriel in the meeting, too. I don’t say that to Giada, who believes he’s retired from hunting. Whatever the case, I’m officially worried.