by CP Smith
Shockley released his hold for a moment, long enough for my oxygen starved brain to gasp for air before he tightened it again. I was too weak at this point to move, to fight against him and the darkness crept back in. He released his hold on the bag again, and blood rushed back to my brain. It was almost euphoric the way the blood rushed through my arteries, releasing a sense of calm. He pulled his knife from the back of his waistband again, turning the blade toward me. Before I could kick out, he shoved the blade deep into my stomach in a swift strike. Unbearable pain that would have doubled me over if I could have moved caught what was left of my breath as Shockley leered in satisfaction. This is it; this is the moment when he raises his knife and buries it deep in my heart.
As if he could read my mind, he smiled sadistically, pulled the bag from my head, and raised the knife high. I closed my eyes and waited for the strike that would end my life, saying a silent good-bye to Dallas and my family. I was almost calm, peaceful in the knowledge that the red-hot pain in my stomach would soon end. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, preparing for the blow that would end my life, I gasped and my eyes flew open when I heard a door slam open and Dallas thunder in rage, “Nicola!” before the rapid fire of a gun caused Shockley’s head to explode in front of me.
Through tears and pain the likes I’d never felt, I watched Shockley fall into a heap to the floor, blood pouring from what was left of his head. I heard Dallas’ pounding footsteps as my eyesight blurred and a cold numbness set in.
“Hold on, baby,” Dallas shouted as he pulled out a phone, called 911, and began barking orders. I closed my eyes to block out the pain as my head slumped forward. Dallas grabbed my face and ordered, “Don’t you close your fuckin’ eyes! Do you hear me? You stay with me Nicola, help is almost here.”
I could feel the darkness seeping in, pulling me under, and I knew I needed to say good-bye just in case. As Dallas loosened the restraints on my arms and leg, I laid my head on his shoulder and whispered, “Tell my family that I love them.”
“You can tell them yourself after we get you to the hospital,” Dallas replied, his voice shaky as he spoke.
I tried to nod, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. When he lowered me to the ground I cried out, my back arching in pain as he pulled the shirt from his body and applied pressure to my wound.
Parker arrived just as I screamed out, bursting through the door with his gun drawn.
“Look at me, baby, keep your eyes on me,” Dallas ordered so I focused on his honey-colored eyes with their flecks of green. They were the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen, but they were wild looking now, betraying his somewhat controlled movements. He was terrified. My dark and dangerous warlord was shaken to his core.
“Heard your call over the radio, the ambulance is less than five minutes out,” Parker stated as Dallas stroked my face. “I see you handled Shockley.”
“Yeah, and if you want my badge for the kill, you can have it,” Dallas bit out, “I don’t give a fuck.”
I tried to keep my eyes open like Dallas ordered, but I was tired, and so very cold. Reaching out I placed my hand on Dallas’ face. I felt his warm mouth on the palm of my hand as he kissed it, and I wanted to burrow into his body so I could feel warm again. I was going into shock and I knew it. So, with my last conscious thought, I curled my fingers around his hand and whispered, “Love me, Dallas.”
***
“Love me, Dallas.”
Jerking awake with a start, Dallas turned to look at the tiny woman lying in the hospital bed. The dark circles under her eyes and the constant beeping of the monitors reminded him that Nicola was alive, but not yet awake. She’d lost too much blood from the knife wounds and slipped into a coma. After coding twice during surgery, the doctors had given Nicola a 50/50 chance of making it through the night. That was two days ago and he’d refused to leave her side for a minute. Her family and friends were in the waiting room, coming in every two hours as allowed, but Dallas had flashed his badge and glared, daring the doctors to throw him out.
They quickly saw the wisdom in letting him stay.
Tangling his fingers with hers, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed the only spot on her hand that didn’t have an IV in the way.
“You need to wake up, Nicola,” Dallas ordered for the hundredth time and he watched her face for a sign she’d heard him, any movement at all.
Nothing.
Releasing her hand, he rubbed his own across his face, then stood up, and stretched his back. Dallas was still dressed in the suit pants and white dress shirt he’d worn to the funeral—he had refused to go home to change.
A knock on the door had Dallas turning to find a hospital technician dressed in blue scrubs holding a chart.
“I’m here to take Ms. Royse for neuroimaging.”
Dallas narrowed his eyes at the man.
“Why?”
“To check for brain function.”
“Her brain is fine, she just needs time to recover,” Dallas growled.
“I’m just here to take her for the test, sir, I’m not a doctor.”
Dallas saw Dr. Royse in the hallway talking with Nicola’s doctor, so he exited her room and joined both men.
“She’s not brain dead,” Dallas argued.
“We aren’t saying she is, but she hit her head in the accident, so we want to take a look and see if there’s anything going on that could be prolonging her coma,” Dr. Royse explained.
“She just needs rest,” Dallas argued again as fear crept in again.
“She should have woken up by now,” her father explained, Dallas’ own fear mirrored in his eyes.
“She. Just. Needs. Rest.” Dallas bit out each word, then turned his back on the men, and walked back into her room.
The technician had started disconnecting the machines, pausing alarms as they rang out so the nurses wouldn’t come running. Frustrated with Nicola for being so stubborn, Dallas leaned down and kissed her forehead before moving to her ear so she could hear him.
“Nic baby, I need you to wake up,” he whispered. Grabbing her hand, he squeezed hard hoping for some type of sign that she heard him.
Nothing.
“Goddammit, Nicola, open your fuckin’ eyes,” Dallas ordered, “you’re missing out on a love story for the ages while you lay there sleeping.”
Still nothing.
Taking a deep breath, Dallas lowered his head to hers and tried to reach her through her greatest love—her books. “Ok, Nicola, have it your way . . . Once upon a time there was a lonely warlord, who spent his life fighting one injustice or another. Even though he was disillusioned with life, he kept looking for something that made all the shit he waded through daily worthwhile. Then one day, this sexy maiden bumped into him in a coffee shop and smiled at him,” Dallas chuckled. “With that one smile, that one single sexy grin, all the filth in my life faded away. Nic baby, if that isn’t a fairy tale that deserves a happy ending I don’t know what is,” he whispered. “You asked me to love you, Nicola, but the problem is I can’t tell you that I already do unless you open your eyes and look at me. Do you hear me, gorgeous? I love you, but you have to open your eyes so we can have our happy ending.”
Nothing, not even a twitch.
“I need to take her downstairs now, sir,” the technician broke in. Dallas reluctantly stepped back and followed him out of the room. Once they were in the hallway, the tech stupidly advised that he wait in her room, so Dallas pinned the man with a look that would have made most men run.
“Or you can come with us,” the tech spit out quickly.
“I’m not leaving her side until she wakes up,” Dallas stated as he grabbed Nicola’s hand and held on. He saw Bo and Finn standing in the hallway, concern etched on their faces mixed with a shit-eating grin that said they’d seen the whole encounter.
Dallas ignored them both and started talking to Nicola as if she were awake. He told her they were headed downstairs for an MRI and that it was a, “Fuckin’ waste o
f money,” since she was only asleep. When they stopped at the elevator, he started to tell her about her cats and how they were tearing up her mother’s house. When a slight movement had Dallas jerking his head down suddenly, looking at where her hand lay in his. His heart beat swiftly as he watched her pinky twitch, then seconds later her hand moved and she curled her fingers around his own.
“Dallas,” he heard Nicola mumble weakly. He turned his head quickly at his name to find two jade-green eyes looking up at him.
“Thank, Christ,” he breathed out, leaning down toward her face as relief rushed down his spine and settled in his legs. He whispered, “Welcome back, baby,” against her lips, then pulled back to look at her. She had a funny look on her face when her mouth formed the words, “Where’s your Kilt, you always wear a kilt.”
“My what?” Dallas asked confused.
“Kilt,” she replied groggily.
“Are you saying you want me to wear a kilt?”
Nicole nodded slightly as her eyes closed, a dreamy expression overtaking her face.
“Christ . . . will you remember if I say okay?”
“No,” she mumbled weakly, sleep almost upon her.
Smiling at her expression, he leaned down and whispered, “All right, babe, I’ll wear a kilt for you.” When she smiled brightly without opening her eyes, he waited a moment longer for her to fall asleep again and then added without guilt, “When hell freezes over.”
Epilogue
Everyone thought romance novelists had exciting sex lives—if they only knew . . . If they only knew, they’d hate me.
Four months later
A soft breeze caressed my body, sending tiny shivers down my spine. I was naked, covered with a fine sheen of sweat as my body heated thanks to Dallas. He slid in and out of me slowly as our tongues danced, tangling in erotic play. Still afraid to lay fully on my stomach for fear he’d hurt me somehow, Dallas held back. Ripping his mouth from mine, he leaned down and ran his tongue across my pebbled scars, the only physical reminder I had of the nightmare so many of us endured. Running my hands through his hair as he kissed his way up my chest, Dallas stopped at my heavy breasts to lavish my nipples with attention.
“I love the taste of you,” Dallas moaned as he ran his tongue up the valley between my breasts only to take my mouth again, while his rhythmic thrusts built a fire inside me. His hips pounding at a furious pace, he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up until I was straddling his thighs. Mouth-to-mouth, chest-to-chest, our arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders and we pushed and pulled to a frantic rhythm. Two hearts beat in unison, climbing to that place that threw you off violently, only to burst free in exquisite bliss. I threw my head back as my release shot fast and beautiful through my soul, unleashing the calm and peacefulness I always felt in his arms.
“Marry me,” Dallas whispered in my ear seconds after we both cried out, the smell of sex and sweat curling around us like a cocoon.
“What?” I asked breathlessly as my eyes shot to his.
With Dallas still buried deep inside of me, he held onto my waist as he flipped to his back, taking me with him until I was lying on his chest. I lifted up, bracing my arms on his chest as my hair fell around his in a veil. His honey-colored eyes blazed with emotion as he cupped my face with both hands before taking my mouth again in a life-altering kiss.
“I told you once that I wanted to own that part of you that you’ve never given away, that part that can only be mine,” Dallas whispered against my lips when he finished kissing me. “What I didn’t tell you was that I wanted you to own that part of me, I’d never given away that part that can only belong to you. You own it now and I don’t want it back.”
A knot formed in my throat as he spoke, choking the sob that wanted to breach my lips.
“You never gave that piece to Brynne?”
“Never. I was too young to know she wasn’t the one I should have waited for. When you ran into me at the coffee house, my soul stood up and took notice. I’d been waiting for you to come along; I just didn’t know it until you smiled at me.”
“I’ve been waiting for you, too,” I cried, unable to stop the flood that poured down my face.
“Marry me, Nicola, and I’ll spend the rest of my life loving and protecting you,” Dallas asked again.
Choked by feelings I’d never felt in my life, I couldn’t answer, so I nodded emphatically and slammed my mouth over his until he took over, rolling me to my back. His cock hardened while still inside me, so I wrapped my legs around his waist and he began sealing our engagement with slow, tender thrusts.
Nine months later, the first Saturday in April
Beer in hand, Dallas flipped hamburgers as the girls and I sat around my patio table catching up. Kasey’s boys were chasing Snape and Simi while Bo and Finn talked with my parents. Bill and his wife June rounded out my monthly barbecue; the last one I’d host as a single woman.
Dallas had pushed for a short engagement, but my mother’s wide eyes and fake tears over her only daughter not having a huge fairytale wedding, complete with white doves and a horse drawn carriage, shut him up. I, for one, didn’t care if we went to the justice of the peace or Vegas for a quickie ceremony, since I finally had my own real-life storybook hero. However, I will admit, walking down the aisle in a beautiful white gown while Dallas waited for me to take our vows did hold some appeal.
It had been just over a year since Micah Shockley came into our lives and a day doesn’t go by that we don’t think about Janeane and all that she’d missed. My upcoming wedding should have been a joyous occasion, but a part of me couldn’t help thinking about the fact that I should have had four bridesmaids instead of three.
The girls and I still meet once a week at Gypsy’s, even though it’s a reminder of how we lost our dear friend. But it’s also a way to keep her memory alive, since on those days I brainstorm with the girls about my current WIP. I went back to writing historical romance; my taste for writing a contemporary novel died when Janeane did. My current book, due to release in three months, is about a young English maiden named Janeane who meets a golden-eyed Highlander named Duglas, pronounced Doolas. They fall deeply in love and, of course, live happily ever after. I may have given up my contemporary novel, but I hadn’t given up using Dallas as one of my heroes. In addition, if I do say so myself, it’s my best work to date for obvious reasons. The hero, you see, saves the maiden from certain death.
The past year had been an exercise in adjusting. Such as adjusting to life with a bossy male, who wants to know your every move because he still has nightmares about the night you were stabbed. Or adjusting to your best friend dating your brother (yes, I get phone calls at midnight, hearing what an ass he is) leaving his twin to fend for himself, which meant he spent all his time at my house. But those adjustments came with deep, abiding passion and love that never ceased to amaze me. Now all I had to do was marry my warlord and live happily ever after.
“So you’re telling us that Dallas showed up at the photo shoot and blew his top?” Kasey laughed.
Glancing at my betrothed, I giggled when I thought about it.
“Yep, it may have had something to do with the kilt. Picture it ladies, the fair-haired maiden was overseeing the photo shoot of her current book ‘Highlander’s Gift.’”
“Why are you talking in third person?” Angela asked.
“Just go with it for now; I always do when this happens,” I explained.
“Do you talk in third person a lot?” June laughed, looking around the table at my friends.
“No, I think in third person,” I huffed, “do you want to hear this or not?”
“By all means, don’t keep us in suspense.”
Looking back at Dallas before I finished, I watched as he took a pull from his beer. Sensing I was looking at him, his eyes drifted to mine and then narrowed.
“What?” he asked a little warily.
“Nothing. I was just thinking about kilts.”
Shaking
his head slowly, he turned his back on us mumbling, “Hell hasn’t frozen over yet.”
Laughing at the brooding brute, I turned back to the girls and started back with my tale.
“Where was I?”
“The fair-haired maiden was ogling the male model during the photo shoot,” June threw out.
“Right, so imagine if you will, for the cover of her new book, the fair-haired maiden needed a man who was tall, broad, and very well-built. He had to be devastatingly handsome like her warlord and, of course, have great legs to pull off a kilt. Therefore, she hired a dark and dangerous looking fake warlord to grace the cover of her new book. As you can imagine, she would need photos with the handsome warrior to put on her Facebook page so her readers could appreciate her future—”
“This is where Dallas comes in I bet,” Kristina laughed.
“Exactly, so the fair-haired maiden was posing with the dark and dangerous fake warlord, just having a bit of fun.”
“How much fun?” June asked with a grin.
“I believe he was holding her hair back seductively like he was going to kiss her,” I explained.
“Oh, Lord,” Kasey laughed.
“Hot,” Angela smiled.
“Can I come to the next photo shoot?” Kristina begged.
“I’ve heard this story already,” June interjected, “according to Bill he had his hand on your ass.”
“It’s possible, but I was in a period gown wearing a corset so I was concentrating on breathing.”
“Is that when Dallas walked in?” Kristina asked.
“Wait for it, Kris. So the fake warlord was leaning in like he was supposed to, holding his mouth about an inch away from hers, so it gave the appearance of a kiss.”
“Oh, Lord,” Kasey mumbled.
“Way hot,” Angela agreed.
“Seriously, I want to go to the next photo shoot,” Kristina begged louder which drew Dallas’ attention.
“She’s not going to the next photo shoot,” Dallas growled.
