Firestorm

by Monette Michaels

  "I know." She touched his arm. "You're honorable."

  Price grinned. "Well, not that honorable, because I wanted to look." She laughed. "You're welcome to any of my clothes. There are sweats, other shirts, my robe, well, anything you can use in my closet. Oh, and socks are in the top drawer in the built-in chest. Your uniform was ruined."

  And it was evidence. She didn't expect to see it again. Didn't want to see it again.

  "Price—" Her stomach growled. They could have the housing situation talk later. She waved a hand in the air, erasing what she'd been about to say. "I'm starving and could really use something to drink besides water."

  "What would you like me to fix you to drink?" Price asked. "And you won't be hungry for long. Knowing Fee and Scotty, we'll have a feast."

  "Diet Pepsi?"

  "You got it." He leaned in and gave her another searching kiss, only breaking off when she moaned. "This might be too soon for you, but I love you."

  Then he left, leaving her with her mouth wide open and tears of joy running down her face.

  As the door clicked behind him, she whispered, "Sweet Jesus, I think I love you, too."

  All it had taken for him to make his move—finally—and her acknowledging that her feelings for him were more than mere liking—was her being knifed.

  This might be the only time in her whole life she'd be thankful to a murdering-rapist bastard for attacking her.

  Edging her legs over the side of the bed, Tara carefully stood. For a second the room swirled, so she braced herself on the mattress and waited to get her balance. Once she was sure she wouldn't fall on her butt—because the gods knew she didn't need any more bruises—she went in search of a bathroom.

  She needed to pee, clean up a bit, assess the damage to her body, and then find more clothing, something other than just Price's t-shirt. There was a definite breeze traveling up her legs. Underwear that fit would be too much to hope for, but maybe she could find some sweat pants and a clean t-shirt.

  There were three closed doors in the bedroom, besides the double-doors at the entrance. She found the bathroom on the second try, then used the toilet. Entering a walk-in closet off the bathroom, she grabbed what she needed—a shirt, sweat pants that said US Navy down the side of the legs, and a blue-plaid flannel robe.

  Finally, she braved looking in the mirror over the double vanity.

  "Arrgh! I look like a raccoon." She leaned in and checked out the bruising on her face and under the eyes. "Okay," she muttered, "not really black eyes, just shadows. Plus, I am really, really pale right now. More like a vampire a couple of quarts low." She snickered at the thought.

  Finding a washcloth, she used the manly bar soap and washed her face, then swiped the cloth over her other bruises. Fee and Lacey had done a good job of cleaning her up while she'd been unconscious, because she wasn't really dirty. Though the sink bath did make her feel better, more human.

  Tara would kill to take a shower, but didn't want to chance getting dizzy and slipping or getting her stitches wet.

  Maybe later she'd convince Price to join her in the shower, just to keep her from injuring herself and to help her keep her wound dry. The thought of what his reaction might be to such a suggestion brought a smile to her lips. She was aroused by the idea of being wet and naked with an equally wet and naked Price. She was fairly sure she wasn't up for shower sex at the moment. She was certain an overprotective Price wouldn't risk tearing open her stitches.

  Giggling, she looked in the mirror. The thought of sexual intimacy with Price had brought a glow to her face. It matched the glow in her heart. She was excited about having a sex life again.

  Tara sat on the edge of the large Jacuzzi tub and pulled on the clean t-shirt and the sweat pants. Her legs and Price's were about the same length, so she wouldn’t trip. Her hips were wider than his, but the sweats were stretchy enough to fit nicely and the drawstring tightened enough around her smaller waist to keep them up. The flannel robe was soft from many washings, but had been worn at least once since it still carried Price's scent. She inhaled as she put it on, and a sense of calm settled over her. He smelled right.

  Now fully clothed, she used a comb she found and took care of her hair. After several minutes of cursing and wincing, she'd finally detangled her thick hair. She normally wore her hair braided in a tail down her back, but her head ached. So she left her hair straight; it fell down her back to just above her butt.

  Price had never seen her hair like this. She wondered if he'd like it.

  Using a small disposable cup—her Native American upbringing tsked that this was not environmentally conscious—she rinsed out her mouth with mouthwash. Brushing her teeth would have to wait; she drew the line at using his toothbrush.

  When she felt she was as good as she was going to get without a shower and access to her skin care products, she headed for the bedroom door.

  Tara opened the door and heard—"Where in the fuck is my sister?"

  Hell, that was Aidan.

  Price's reply came quickly. "She's safe. No credit to you. Why in the fuck did you wait to tell her about Miller's escape until tonight? The fucker's been on the loose since Thursday."

  Double hell. Her píítaa was pissed. Well, she didn't blame him. She was also mad. Thursday? And Aidan just called her this evening?

  That meant on Saturday—she cut off that line of thinking as the men's voices got louder. Aidan was bellowing like a bull protecting its herd, which meant he was close to getting physical. She'd never heard Price's current tone before—a harsh, frigid tone, so clipped, so controlled, that even this far away she could sense the pressure building to an eventual explosion. She needed to stop this confrontation before it escalated any further.

  Tara wanted her brothers and Price to get along. That wouldn't be the result if they beat the ever-loving shit out of each other the first time they met.

  Despite a sharp protest from her wound, Tara rushed down the hall that led into what had to be the main part of the house.

  "Aidan—" she called out, her voice so weak as to be unrecognizable. She tried again. "Aidan—"

  Whatever she'd been about to say didn't come out since she stopped and swallowed hard as the pain from her wound traveled over her body in waves. Dizzy, she wobbled, stumbled to brace herself on a long console table set against the wall.

  "Tara!" Price ran to her and gathered her up into his arms just as her knees gave way. "Firefly," he nuzzled the top of her head as he carried her to a couch and sat down, with her on his lap, "sweetheart, you need to take it easy."

  "Firefly?" Aidan snapped out.

  "Sweetheart?" Calum, her second oldest brother, hissed.

  "Whose fucking clothes is she fucking wearing?" growled Flynn, the youngest of her brothers.

  Sighing, Tara snuggled into Price's muscled body, her head resting on his shoulder. His unique scent, the steady thudding of his heart, and his body heat helped her ignore her aches and pains. And if her brothers hadn't been there, glaring at the two of them, Tara would've been the happiest she'd ever been.

  But her brothers were there, and they were not happy. At all.

  "Tara! What the fuck?" Aidan gritted out.

  She jerked at the deadly note in her eldest brother's voice and moaned as the abrupt movement caused her pain.

  Price rubbed his chin soothingly over the top of her head, her hair catching in his beard scruff. "Shh. It's okay. I've got you."

  "Fucking hell you do. Give her to me," Calum ordered as he took one step forward.

  Before Calum could take one more step, Trey cut him off by placing his body between her brother and the sofa where Price held her.

  Calum snarled, "Move the fuck out of my way. That's my sister." Aidan and Flynn, their hands fisted and promises of retribution on their faces, ranged alongside Calum. "We're taking her out of here."

  "Maybe you'd better check with your sister about what she wants?" Fee said as she moved to
stand next to Trey, who immediately shifted his petite wife behind him with a growled, "Stay."

  The tension in the air went up another couple of notches when Ren came to stand next to his brother and then Dan, his badge hooked on his belt, moved until he was in her brothers' line of sight.

  "Holy shit, this could become a major clusterfuck," Tara whispered. She looked at Price's face and found all his focus was on her.

  Her brothers' angry muttering, his friends' actions, and the breath-stealing tension in the room didn't even exist for Price. His energy was centered on her. Her comfort. Her needs. Her wants. He was waiting for her to make the call on how to proceed so he could make it happen.

  No other man, not her father, her brothers, or any of the men who'd tried to be a part of her life, had given her this kind of support—and trust.

  So she gave it back. "What should I do?"

  Chapter 7

  "What do you want to do?" Price replied, just loudly enough for her to hear. "It's your call, sweetheart. As far as I'm concerned, this is your home…if you want it to be."

  He brushed his lips over her forehead. When she leaned into the kiss and made a happy, little humming noise, his dick went on high alert. With a lot of effort, he pushed aside the thought of her making those sexy little sounds when he had her naked in his bed and he was kissing her all over.

  This was not the time, nor the place for those kinds of thoughts, especially with a great room full of people. Especially not with the chorus of grumbling coming from her brothers.

  If Trey, Ren, Dan, and Price's baby sister—who was asking to get a lecture not only from her husband, but also from him—hadn't blocked the three former Marines, he expected Tara would've been ripped from his arms by now.

  If that had happened, he'd have put every single one of the assholes on the floor or died trying.

  No one took Tara from him unless she wanted to leave. This decision was totally her call, and he'd defend her right to make it. No one would bully her into doing what "they" decided she should do, not even him.

  Price prayed she'd choose to stay with him.

  Tara snorted, a cute little sniff that made his dick throb. Since Tara's three large brothers were already giving him the evil eye, he mentally consigned his dick to the deep freeze…for now.

  Turning her head, she said, loudly enough that all could hear, "I accept your invitation to move into your house. I was going to tell you in the bedroom, but Ren interrupted us."

  Tara wanted to be here…in his home…with him. He hadn't figured she'd accept so easily. He'd figured she'd take some time to think about it, even after she'd admitted to "more than liking" him and had been waiting on him to make the first move.

  "You're sure?" Yeah, he sounded like an idiot, but this was too important not to be clear. He scanned her face. She was still too ashy and had dark circles under eyes from pain and exhaustion. Yet, her lips were twisted upward in a smile and her eyes glowed with something more than mere affection…for him.

  "Yes, Price," she said, laughter in her voice, "I'm sure." She caressed his jaw. "Very sure."

  A huge grin on his face, he wanted to shout his happiness to the world. She not only liked him, she wanted to live with him. His patience had been well rewarded; Tara not only cared for him, she trusted him.

  "Sisttsí—" By the sound of the eldest brother Aidan's tone, he'd had enough.

  Price understood the man's attitude, after all, he had three sisters himself. But—"Watch your tone." He aimed a glare at Aidan, then the other two. "All of you. Tara doesn't need any bullshit from her family right now."

  As Aidan visibly gathered himself and the other two bristled like porcupines, Price looked at Tara and softened his voice, "FYI, I call her firefly, because she brings light to the dark parts of my soul."

  Tara's golden eyes glowed as she mouthed "thank you."

  Price massaged her arm where he held her. "I call her sweetheart," he looked deeply into her eyes glistening with unshed tears, "because she touches my heart. I think she might feel the same about me."

  Tara nodded, and a tear slipped down her pale cheek. He captured it with his thumb.

  "She's wearing my clothes, because hers were bloody and torn from fighting for her life. And we haven't brought any of her personal possessions here…yet."

  Price turned his head and looked into each brother's eyes in turn. "That's all you get from me. What happens between Tara and me is for us. If she chooses to share any of it with you, that's her call. But one thing you need to understand is—your sister is very precious to me. I will protect her physically, mentally, and emotionally from everything and everyone, including you three."

  "My big brother means that," Fee piped up as she sneaked around Trey.

  The Nightwalker brothers turned their gazes to her as if one unit.

  A rumbling snarl came from Trey as he snagged his wife and anchored her in front of him, his hands on her shoulders to keep her from moving forward into the danger zone. The look on Trey's face warned the brothers not to mess with Fee.

  Damn, he loved his brother-in-law and was happy his baby sister had that kind of protector. The kind of protector he wanted to be for Tara—as backup when she chose to handle things on her own and to step in when she needed help.

  Patting one of her husband's hands, Fee continued, "Our parents were emotionally distant and ignored us for the most part. Our two sisters were much older than us and left home as soon as they could. Beginning in grade school, Price protected me. For me, he was both mother and father, much to his embarrassment at times." With tears in her eyes and a loving smile on her face, she added, "Tara couldn't have a better protector."

  "Aidan." Tara drew everyone's attention to her. "I call Price…píítaa. Does that tell you how I feel?"

  Her brothers stiffened, shock on their faces. Tara's pet name for him must have an extremely personal meaning in the Nightwalker family. Whatever that meaning, she'd tell him when she was ready. They'd have lots of time to share their pasts and hopes for the future while she lived with him. When she was used to him, he'd ask her to marry him. He was that certain they were meant to be together forever.

  As Tara nestled her head on Price's shoulder, she sighed and reached for the hand he'd rested on her thigh. "My brothers, are we done with all the posturing? I'm hungry, cold, tired, and hurting."

  Price growled under his breath and sent an anxious glance toward his sister. "Fee?"

  Fee moved out from under Trey's hold and came to stand in front of them. "Do you want some more pain meds, Tara? It's been long enough since your last dose."

  "Thanks, Fee, but no—"

  "Sweetheart, are you sure?" Price asked.

  "Price, it's okay. I want to keep my head clear. Food and rest will help." Tara squeezed his fingers, then aimed her gaze at her brothers who frowned at the two of them. "Aidan, Calum, Flynn, I'm with Price. Get over it."

  "Just answer this," Aidan asked, "how long have you been with him?"

  "Tara?" Price asked.

  "It's okay, píítaa, if I get this out of the way, we can move on."

  He nodded, then brought her hand to his lips and kissed the tips of her cold fingers. She was trembling from all that had happened, so he couldn't help but add, "If you need everyone to leave, you let me know."

  "I will. Thank you." She raised her head and brushed a kiss over his mouth. Then she turned and aimed a cool gaze at her brothers. "Not that it's any of your business, but this is my first time in Price's home. This is the most he's touched me since I met him a month ago. He has been a complete gentleman and has allowed me to get to know him first. What I know I like and trust. He is a good man. I'll also share that I wanted him to move a hell of a lot faster than he did. I was at the point of asking him out on a date." She grinned at Price. "But I hadn't quite figured out how to do that—now I won't have to."

  Price returned her grin.

  "Jesus, sisttsí," muttered
the brother who still had the Marine high-and-tight haircut.

  The shortest brother, and since all of them were well over six-foot-tall, that was not really short, added, "Are you sure about this?"

  Aidan added, "Tara, you've been off men since, well, you know."

  Knowing what he knew now about Miller's crimes against Tara, Price was happy he'd gone with his instincts and waited. Hell, it was a fucking miracle she was willing to try a relationship of any sort with him after what had happened to her. He'd bend over backward to make sure his firefly always felt safe with him. He'd cut off his own dick before hurting her.

  Tara angled her head and placed a light kiss on Price's jaw. The brush of her lips had him harder than a deep, tongue-thrusting kiss from any other woman ever had. She had to feel his erection under her thighs.

  When she wiggled her butt and gave him a sly wink, he knew she had. It was all he could do not to groan; he liked her wiggling on his lap.

  "I'm sure, Flynn." Tara addressed the brother who'd asked the question. So, the one who still had the military haircut was Calum. "I'm where I want and need to be right now."

  The brothers looked at one another. The expressions on their faces indicated they were skeptical about his and Tara's relationship. He expected he'd be having a private talk with them later. For now, they remained silent, which told him the Nightwalkers weren't stupid and knew how to play a waiting game.

  But then, so did he and look at what he'd won.

  Tara sighed. "Now that we've addressed why I'm here and why Price has the right to hold me on his lap and give me kisses, let's get to the more serious matter—Miller's escape. On Thursday." She turned a narrowed gaze at her eldest brother. "Aidan, Price asked why you hadn't told me about Miller escaping before this evening. I'd like to know that also, since I spoke with all three of you after the sniper attack on Saturday and none of you said anything."

  "But I did tell you why…earlier this evening…when I called." Aidan sounded confused.