by Nancy Gideon
“Hang on, brother,” Wesley muttered from the other side of her as the count passed a half dozen.
How had it suddenly gotten so hot? Her face burned. Sweat trickled down her neck, dampening her hair at the nape. Nausea became roiling waves of dizziness as the brutality narrowed into one solid focus: Cale’s unwavering stare holding hers.
Nine. The strokes of the whip grew labored. A ripple of quiet murmurs went through the gathering of brothers.
“Almost there. Stay strong.”
“C’mon, Cale. You’ve got it.”
“What don’t kill you, brother.”
The encouragement seemed to displease their father, but Cale’s stance strengthened until he no longer swayed with the fierce blows. He released the straps, his gaze leaving hers to lock on to his father’s. Not in defiance but with a humbling contrition, as if to say, I’ve killed my brother. I can’t bring him back. Forgive me for my crime.
Because he couldn’t forgive himself.
The silence after the last blow fell was deafening. Bram gave a single nod and then told her, “Go to him.”
The straps had been cut free, leaving raw circles about his wrists. Cale watched her approach, standing still and straight and steady. With all eyes upon them, she tucked in beside him, easing his arm across her shoulders as he spoke softly. “Don’t let me fall.”
This time.
She hooked her fingers beneath his belt and held on tight. His ordeal wasn’t over until he’d walked away under his own power. If he went down . . . Kendra couldn’t think of that.
The somber line of his brothers parted to let them pass. Cale kept his eyes straight ahead and his jaw gripped tight. His fingers bit into Kendra’s arm as one of his knees gave, and she nearly buckled under the drag of his weight. He steadied and urged her with a hoarse “Go on. Don’t stop for anything.”
She got him to the chalet, using the key she’d been given to unlock the door. Once she maneuvered him over the threshold, he went down, crumpling to hands and knees, his breathing raw and awful. She found the lights, then regretted the brightness that illuminated his shredded back. She had to avert her eyes to keep the gorge from getting past the tightness in her throat.
“What can I do?” she asked helplessly.
“I need to shower.”
She helped him stand. Under the remaining streaks of camouflage paint, his face was pale and dripping, his skin alarmingly cold. He stumbled at her direction until they reached the large bathroom filled with gleaming black and white tiles and, thankfully, a huge walk-in shower. She left him leaning on the sink to regulate a heated spray.
“I can’t get my boots off.”
Kendra knelt to unbuckle and unlace them. His bloodstained pants and briefs dropped even before she’d moved her hands away, and he was stepping out of them, reeling into the shower. For a moment, she couldn’t lift her gaze, keeping it on his bare feet, where water pooled a deep, vital red, along with swirls of camouflage black and green. Slowly, her head lifted, and she took in the strong calves, the thighs shaped by lean muscle, the firm butt, then the ruined length of his back. The silver from the whip’s hooked tips had begun to interact with his Shifter physiology. His skin was red and raw, the tears bubbling like-third degree burns.
“Help me, Katy.”
Katy. Her heart staggered. He’d called her that when they were children.
Then she remembered Sylvia’s gift. For cleaning and healing. Now it made sense. She hurried into the main room, returning with the ointment. Taking off her shoes, she stepped into the shower fully dressed to apply the cream to his open wounds.
Cale flattened against the tiled wall, palms slapping against the wet surface before curling into fists. His muscles jerked with a startling violence, making her pause. When he got control of his breathing, he urged, “Go on. It stings a bit, is all. Go ahead, baby.”
Stings a bit. Biting her lip, she continued to rub the harsh compound into the jagged tears, hoping it would do what Sylvia had promised and neutralize the caustic effect of the silver. By the time she’d finished, repair had already begun. Bleeding had stopped, and the acid-like burns were fading. Cale leaned in to the wall, eyes closed, breathing shallow, energy at a dangerous ebb. He glanced over his shoulder at her as she began to shampoo his hair to wash out whatever he’d used to darken it. “What are you doing?”
“You’re already wet, so you’d might as well be clean.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I know. Be quiet.”
A faint smile sketched over his lips as he shut his eyes again, relaxing into her care.
As the massage of his scalp eased down to the tension knotting his neck, Cale’s low moan quickened a strange tightness in her middle. She tried to focus on charitable service, but she’d grown too aware of the strong bones of his face and jaw as she gently washed them, of the taut line of his throat and the powerful range of his shoulders. Restless with the odd urgency, she tipped his head back into the spray, causing him to sputter and spit and finally utter that deep rumble of gratification again. She imagined it was how he’d sound after satisfying sex.
He reached overhead, inviting her along the tempting contours of the most perfect arms she’d ever seen. Deceptively sleek like the rest of him, yet shaped by aggressive bicep swells and forearms like iron, with that fiercely snarling family crest tattooed below his left shoulder. She had to stretch to reach his hands, bringing her body into contact with his. Again, the shock of awareness gave her pause. Catching her fingers between his, he turned, trapping her in the wrap of her own arms.
She was too surprised to evade the hard press of his mouth. His tongue stabbed in a deep, demonstrative claim, making her knees tremble and her sensibilities melt away. She came up on her toes in pursuit as he lifted away. “Open your eyes, princess.”
Her lashes fluttered, and the harsh beauty of his features filled her vision like an erotic dream.
“I wanted you to know who was kissing you this time.”
She went flat-footed. With a quick wrenching twist, she escaped his grasp and fled the room.
When Cale emerged from the bathroom draped in a towel, Kendra skirted the big bed, keeping a wary distance. Her wet clothes lay on the tiles by the soaking tub. She’d found among all those filmy confections in the closet the one thing that didn’t scream “Do me, hot stuff.” Conservative black leggings and an oversize sweatshirt didn’t make him want her any less. But tonight, he looked no further than keeping her in the same room with him.
Cale heard her gasp as the towel dropped, and he smiled at the sound of her panicked scramble from the bedroom. In time, she’d realize she couldn’t outrun him, outwait him, or outsmart him.
She was going to be his queen.
nine
Finding a pair of loose cargo pants, Cale gritted his teeth as he pulled them on. He felt like a speeding car had not only hit him but backed over him, too. His leg ached. A colony of fire ants seemed to be chewing determinedly on his back and shoulders. Every bruise and bump he’d taken on the long ten-mile run settled in to complain in a loud, head-splitting voice.
But the female in the other room made every ache and agony worthwhile. Until he heard the outside door open. One thought momentarily paralyzed him.
She’s leaving me!
He sprinted from the bedroom, careening to a halt when he saw Kendra accepting a covered tray from one of the kitchen staff. She gave him a curious look as she carried the food to a low table in the living area. Relief shuddered through him. He was suddenly starving: for the meal, for his future mate.
The smell of raw beef marinated in ginger and soy claimed the better part of his attention as he shoveled it in along with filling sticky rice. With the edge of his hunger slaked, his gaze rose to the equally tasty female daintily picking at her meal by the fireplace. “Sit with me.”
She nearly jumped at his suggestion. “I’m fine.”
Her fear was as potent as the spicy sauce in his bowl.
He kept his tone conversational. “I know you’re eager to fulfill your promise and seal our bond.”
She went alarmingly pale but held her ground.
He went on, “I hope you’re not too disappointed if I pass on that tonight. I’m afraid I don’t have the stamina to do you justice.”
Her obvious thanksgiving wasn’t flattering, but he refused to be discouraged. Tomorrow, he’d be on top of his game and prepared for a strategic campaign that would end with him on top of her. He stood abruptly, and she took an instinctive step back. He made his voice very quiet.“I’m going to lie down. Sorry for being such poor company.”
Kendra was immediately all guilty empathy. “Don’t apologize. I’m the one who’s sorry for all you’ve been through.”
This time he kept his mouth shut and didn’t say what he was thinking. Oh, princess, the payoff will be worth every bit of blood, sweat, and tears I’ve invested. I guarantee it.
Cale would have thought it impossible, with his every dream in the next room, but the instant he sank into the downy comfort of the bed, his entire system collapsed with fatigue. It was an effort to stir when he heard her.
“Cale? I’m sorry. I’m supposed to put this ointment on your back to help with the healing.”
Her tender concern made him smile to himself. He kept his face turned away, his eyes closed, and waited for her to sit on the edge of the bed. There was nothing she could do to him that would make him flinch away from her touch. He heard her unscrew a jar and caught the faint whiff of something soothing. Then that first application.
“Oh, sweet mother!”
His startled cry had her almost in tears. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Does it burn?”
“No, it’s cold!” He relaxed into a laugh. “I’m sorry I scared you. It’s fine.”
She expelled a breath. Her palm touched his arm in a gentle caress, making him go completely still. “Let’s try that again.”
She hesitated, then began to spread the cream over his back. The coolness brought immediate relief. Her attention, a richer satisfaction.
“So many scars,” she murmured, lightly following one of the old marks.
“I had a slow learning curve as a child.”
“More like an impatient and heavy-handed teacher.” He didn’t respond to her crisp condemnation of his father, but she wasn’t ready to let it go. “Children don’t need to be beaten to be taught, you know.”
“Obviously, we went to different schools of thought.”
“I’d never allow a child of mine to be treated cruelly.”
A warning? Her fierceness both amused and encouraged him. Cale twisted to look up at her. “I’ll respect that.” His voice roughened. “Kendra, I would never intentionally hurt you or any child you give me. Never.” She said nothing. He couldn’t tell if she believed him, and that bothered him into elaborating. “My momma wouldn’t let my father put a hand on me.”
“So where did you get these scars?”
“After she left and I stayed.”
“Why did you stay here with him, Cale? I don’t understand.”
A small smile. “I don’t expect you do.” He flexed his shoulders to change the subject. “That does feel better.”
“I’m glad.” Then she ventured, “What happened to the boy who used to call me Katy?”
He held her unhappy gaze for a long minute before saying softly, “Waiting for you.” He patted the mattress. “Lie here with me. I promise to play nice.”
She laughed. “The last time I fell for that, you put grasshoppers in my hair.”
He grinned at that recollection. “Katydids. You had the cutest little shriek. Not like Brigit. Hers could wake a blood oath from the gods of Valhalla.”
She smiled back. Her hand was on his arm again, softly stroking. “You’d make me shriek, but you never made me cry.”
“That’s still my plan.” He scooted over, and this time she settled beside him, leaning on her elbow to regard him with a remembered fondness.
“What’s your favorite memory from when we were kids?”
He didn’t even have to think about it. “Do you remember that summer when some comic-book movie came out and we all decided we wanted to be superheroes?”
Still smiling, she shook her head.
“I was almost eleven, and you were maybe nine. We played a game where I was the villain, and I’d capture you and hold you in my secret lair, the garden shed, I think. I was always the villain, because Silas wouldn’t play unless he got to be the hero, and then I didn’t have anyone to beat up on.”
“I don’t remember you ever getting the best of Silas.”
He winced at that observation. “Because he was twelve and a foot taller than me, and he always drew me in for a sucker punch. Fell for it every time. Man, he made my bells ring.”
“Silas?” She sounded shocked. “I don’t remember that.”
“Why am I not surprised? Anyway,” he continued, settling back into his story, “the only way to make my superpowers equal to those of my hated enemy was to steal a kiss from my hostage princess. I came up with that.” His gaze flirted with hers. “Do you remember? No? I wasn’t the hero, but I got to kiss the girl, so fuck you, MacCreedy.”
She frowned at him. “You’re making that up.”
He shrugged. “Believe what you want, but the villain got the best of that game. G’night, Katy.”
He rolled away, still smiling.
Kendra stared at the back of his head, frowning to herself. He’d been a tough, strutty kid, fast to make fists and faster to use them. He’d been the bully, not Silas. But not before that summer he spoke of so warmly, their last one together.
Guard lowering, she allowed herself to remember. Quiet, shy, and painfully small next to his strapping brothers, who’d mercilessly pushed him around and ridiculed him, Cale never backed down to greater odds. She’d find him nursing his bruises and tell him silly jokes until he’d start to laugh as she wiped the blood from his nose and the tears from his eyes that he’d let no one see but her . . . and she’d loved him madly.
That final summer, when Silas and Brigit came to visit and a suddenly distant Cale had been lured out to spend time with them, she’d noticed that he stood taller, his slender frame textured with muscle. The shyness had become cautious intensity. He seemed to have forgotten how to smile or laugh.
But he’d taught her how to kiss.
She remembered the loamy scent of the shed, Cale leaning close, telling her to close her eyes. Then that first light brush of his mouth over hers. And she just knew she was going to love kissing as much as she loved her dashing Terriot prince in his guise of superhero. They’d continued to practice with youthful exuberance all that weekend until Brigit saw them and Silas put an end to it with a hard right hook.
How had she forgotten?
That was the summer when all joy left her life. And she’d never thought about kissing Cale Terriot again. Until recently.
A buzzing sound distracted her.
Kendra slipped from the bed, careful not to wake Cale as she snatched up her makeup case and ran with it to the bathroom. She pulled out her hidden phone, frowning at the number she didn’t recognize. Then the familiar voice. “Is it safe to talk?”
“Just a minute.” She gently shut the door. “Bree, where are you? Are you all right?”
“I’m in New Orleans. Why wouldn’t I be all right?”
Relief brought tears to her eyes as she admitted, “I was just afraid . . . There was a lot of commotion around here after you left. No one would tell me anything. I thought something might have happened.”
“I had a boring flight, and I’m staying with Silas, which is equally boring.”
Kendra laughed, imagining Brigit’s expression, and the longing for her family twisted tight. Then she pictured Silas’s narrow little apartment, where she’d spent the night in his bed, unfortunately sharing it with Brigit. She tried not to dwell on that awkward visit. Just an infat
uation, Brigit had assured her of the female he’d been involved with. A passing thing. Kendra hadn’t gotten that impression.
“How’s Silas? Is he there?” She struggled to keep her tone nonchalant, though Brigit, of course, wasn’t fooled. It didn’t matter. What mattered was hearing the solid comfort of his voice. He’d always been able to steady her world with a few words. “Could I speak to him?”
“He’s away for a few days on clan business. He had to tie up some loose ends.”
“So Silas is still willing to put aside his . . . his other interests? For me?”
Brigit’s answer was exactly what she needed to hear. “Nothing is as important to him as your safety. How are things there?”
There was no point in pretending things were fine. And no sense in revealing that Cale Terriot was asleep in the other room, in the bed they’d be sharing. That would bring Brigit in a suicidal hurry, girded for war. She was tactfully vague. “Tense. Scary. The same. Except now I’m alone.” That wasn’t technically true.
“You stay strong. I promised I’d be back for you, and I will be. You are not alone. Remember that. We’re your family. We love you. We won’t abandon you. Stall as long as you can. Don’t give those brutes any excuse to harm you.”
That harm had already been done. “I don’t think I can put things off much longer.” Her weakness and confusion must have betrayed itself, because her cousin’s response was fierce.
“You can, Kendra. Of course you can. You’re clever, and you grew up with me. You know everything there is to know about playing hard to get.”
She smiled at that and even laughed a little. How she wished Brigit were here for support. “I miss you so much.”
“I miss you, too.” There was a moment’s silence, and then Brigit added, mysteriously, “There are some things I need to talk to you about. Things I can’t discuss with anyone else.”
“What kind of things?” It was a man. It was always a man with Brigit. “You’re not in trouble again, are you?”
