by Leia Shaw
When she grew quiet, he smiled and gave her an impish look. “But you wouldn’t know about that, would you, shifter?” Teasing? Did he really just tease her?
She grinned. “You can make a neon ball in your hands. Big deal. I can turn into a bird and fly away.”
“Never far enough for me not to find you.” The words sounded familiar – like he’d said them before, many times.
Her grin disappeared and he desperately wanted it back. “But you didn’t,” she accused. “You never found me.” She rose to her knees suddenly and faced him at the side of the tub. Her breasts were in full view but she didn’t seem to care.
He felt his eyes widen at the sight of them but he couldn’t stop staring at the water droplets dotting her pink areolas.
“Did you give in, Maddox?” she demanded. “Did you let them take you or did you fight it?”
She stared him down, disapproval thick in her voice though her expression seemed more pained. Was she angry with him? Because he wasn’t this Maddi she thought he was? He’d been trying to tell her that for days now. But still she insisted. And now here she was, staring him down, looking disappointed, demanding answers. Who the fuck did she think she was?
When he didn’t answer, she sighed then slumped back into the water. “The Maddox I knew would’ve fought till his dying breath,” she whispered as if talking to herself.
That hurt. A small fire started in his chest. Fuck this Maddox. Her Maddox. Well this Maddox was Inkman. He didn’t take shit from little girls.
A picture seized him. Running, sweating, panting. Body aching. Branches scratching his face and neck. A howl in the distance. Fear.
He gave his head a shake. The bathtub came into view. Blue eyes watching from just over the ledge. Comfort.
The forest came back. Wolves. He was surrounded. One pounced and bit into his flesh. Screaming. Growling. A man appeared above him, holding out a needle. Before the world faded, he caught a familiar symbol on the pocket of the man’s shirt. A triangle, a comet behind it, and a red dragon in front. The symbol of the Sorcery Council.
His head spun. Questions raced through his mind. A dream? But he was wide awake. That ringing in his ears started again. It was hard to breathe. What the fuck was wrong with him? He was falling apart. Because of this girl. This shifter. His enemy.
“Break this girl.” His father’s voice intruded. “Honor your mother’s mission.”
His mother. She’d died for him.
Break this girl.
This girl. He rubbed his head, closed his eyes. This girl.
A heartbeat thundered in his ears. His? No. A trick. The girl was messing with him. Break the girl.
No. Not a girl. A witch. An enemy.
Focus! He took a deep breath then exhaled it slowly. Remember who you are.
“Get up,” he said to Felicity.
She blinked. “What?”
“Get up.” He grabbed a towel and moved toward her. His mind blanked. The numbness was welcome. “That’s enough. You’re clean. Time to go back.”
“Okay,” she said slowly then stood up and tried to cover herself from his sight.
He didn’t care. He avoided looking at her. Gruffly, he wrapped the towel around her body then pulled her out of the tub. She cried out when she almost slipped. He marched her out of the room, ignoring her when she resisted and turned away.
“My clothes!”
He yanked her arm. “Like you said, they’re dirty.”
Panic rose in her eyes as they widened. She stared at him with her mouth hanging open. “Maddox.” She started resisting in earnest. “You can’t bring me out like this! They’ll…they’ll hurt me.”
He swallowed down thoughts of what men could do – his men. With his hand wrapped around her upper arm, he pulled her hard up against his body. He stared down at her through a haze of hate, enjoying the trembling of her bottom lip. “Then why don’t you turn into a bird and fly away?”
She took his mocking as expected. Tears pooled in her eyes as her fate became clear. He hardened himself against the coming waterworks. But she blinked them back and gripped her towel hard enough to make her knuckles white.
His heart pounded ferociously. He’d never felt so tense, so stressed. Staying numb had never been so hard. He pulled every emotion that swirled through him – anger, jealousy, fear, sadness – and he crushed it into a tolerable size then stored it away, deep in the pit of his stomach. That’s where it would stay. Until he could crush it for good.
Hand wrapped around her slender arm, he marched her to the elevator, down to the third floor, through the cell block four hallway, then tossed her into her room, trembling and nearly naked. After he slammed the door shut, he watched her crawl under the blanket on her cot.
Leave. Turn around and leave.
His chest was heaving. Why was this so hard? He couldn’t tear himself away. His feet felt glued to the floor. His gaze stuck on her head buried in her pillow, coffee-colored hair fanning out around her. Clean hair. Hair he’d just washed while her head rested in his hand.
His chest hurt. He had to get the fuck out of here.
Turn around and go.
His body felt like lead, but he spun on his heel and walked away. On his way back to his office, he stopped by the cell block guard and choked out three words.
“Nobody touches her.”
I miss you too. More than I can bear.
Felicity to Maddox in a letter, January 2004
There were no bugs on the ceiling to watch today. Felicity lay on her cot for hours after Maddox had thrown her in then walked callously away without a backward glance. Her ears still rang with the echoes of his fading footsteps.
To be honest, she’d expected to have been raped by now. Several guards walked by, leering at her naked shoulders through the small window. She’d huddled under the blanket, frozen in fear. It wasn’t the worst thing they could do to her, but it was still pretty terrifying. She’d only ever been with Maddox and that was so long ago. But she wasn’t naïve. She knew how men worked – especially in a prison like this. They’d take her repeatedly, one after another, not caring how much it hurt. They’d probably like it better if it hurt her.
She swallowed hard and turned her face toward the wall. If only she could sleep. Being in prison was boring as hell. Not for the first time that day she wondered about Dalton. How was he faring? All day, she’d listened for his voice, his name, signs that he was okay. But admittedly, it was Maddox she yearned for. The cruel version or the kind one, she didn’t care. She just wanted to see him, be near him. It was fucking messed up, she knew that, but knowing that didn’t stop the feeling. Gods, she was turning into as much of a head case as he was.
The cell door opened. She didn’t bother to look. She stared at the wall and braced herself for whatever came. The bed slumped from the weight of someone sitting on the end of it. Nothing happened. Finally, she looked toward the body at the foot of the bed.
“Dalton!” She launched into his arms.
He hugged her just as eagerly then held on when she remembered she was naked and squirmed to get away. After he inhaled a deep breath into her neck, he finally released her.
“Sorry!” She grabbed the blanket to cover herself, hoping her cheeks weren’t too red.
In the dark, it was hard to see his expression but his bright eyes were clear. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
That was true. Shifters were used to getting naked in front of each other to shift. Had Dalton snuck a few extra glances? Probably.
She chuckled. “Perv,” she teased. When she went to sit on the opposite end of the bed, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her up against him.
Strange. Dalton had never been forward with her or especially affectionate. They had a very effective professional relationship. Nothing between them ever went farther than friendship. But now he was more handsy than he’d ever been. Maybe he was lonely. Maybe he needed the comfort more than she did.
&n
bsp; “How are you?” she asked him. “They haven’t been too rough, have they?”
“I’m fine,” he answered.
He didn’t seem injured. He wasn’t slouched, bleeding, no permanent injuries at the very least. How was he getting out of torture? And why hadn’t she heard anyone send him in? He seemed to just appear at random.
“Dalton,” she pulled away and looked into his eyes, “are you telling our secrets?” He couldn’t be. Not Dalton. He was their most loyal leader. Intellectual but still strong and a fierce fighter. He wouldn’t crack. Not before she did.
“Let’s not talk about that now,” he answered.
He was avoiding. But why? “What else would we talk about? Listen.” She moved back a few inches and faced him. “I have an idea about how to get out of here but I need your genius brain to help.”
“Not tonight.”
She recoiled. Something wasn’t right. “Not tonight?”
He reached out and cupped her cheek with his hand. Slowly, he brought her toward him until her forehead touched his. She was too shocked to stop him.
The sound of his slow breaths filled the space between them. His whisper brushed against her lips. “I miss you.”
“Dalton.” She grabbed his forearm to pull his hand away then froze. Ridges pressed against her fingertips. She ran them the length of his arm and held in a gasp. Scars. Discreetly, she turned her head to look down, expecting to find tattoos covering them, but there was nothing. Just skin. Smooth skin, not even the scars showed.
Maddox had always been an expert at glamouring.
It took a moment for the shock to wear off. Gods, she should’ve figured it out sooner. She managed to keep calm. If he knew she knew, it could mean trouble. But now he was here, in her cell with his guard down… The urge to sink into his comfort was strong.
Fuck. She thought back to when Dalton had come a few days ago. She’d fallen asleep in his arms. It hadn’t been him. It hadn’t been Dalton who’d comforted her. It had been Maddox. The very person who’d caused her pain.
And now she had the chance to pretend again. She could let him soothe her – let him kiss her. She could let her guard down too and have a peaceful night’s sleep again.
Or she could use this to her advantage.
Trying to still her shaky breath, she moved her hands up his arm. Maddox must’ve thought she and Dalton were a couple. “I miss you too.”
He pushed the blanket down off her shoulders. It was clear what he wanted. Could she have sex with Maddox while he was glamoured to look like Dalton? It would be weird. She’d probably never be able to look at Dalton the same again. If he was still alive. Her heart sank but she steeled her courage and pushed that idea away.
Don’t be silly, Felicity.
Of course she could. This was survival time. Maybe the intimacy would remind Maddox of who he was. Maybe she could convince him to set her free. Or maybe he had a weapon she could get her hands on.
Any of those scenarios were worth a shot.
Maddox pressed a soft kiss on her shoulder. She shuddered, suddenly aware of her nipples hardening against the thin sheet.
“I… I miss you too. But are you sure this is a good idea? The guards could come in and... What if they decide to rape me? I don’t think I could…” She choked back a sob that was only half acting.
Maddox wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight and pressing his mouth and nose to the top of her head. She felt him inhale against her scalp. “If anyone touches you, I’ll kill them.”
Was that the truth, or just words meant to lure her into trusting him? If it wasn’t true, he was a damned good liar.
Easing up on his death grip, his mouth brushed against hers, featherlight. He groaned quietly, as though even just kissing her was torture. Felicity let go of the sheet and it pooled around her hips. Maddox deepened the kiss, his tongue flicking across her lips. She parted them slightly, allowing him access and returning the kiss. Allowing it in order to survive. In order to continue her work in the rebellion and maybe free her friends from this awful place.
His tongue slid into her mouth and she felt the contact like a jolt of electricity.
Who was she kidding? This wasn’t about escape right now. It was about Maddox. She’d dreamed and fantasized about him so often after he’d disappeared on her. Sometimes it was innocent – hoping he was okay, missing their long discussions and his teasing. But other times they were lying in the grass and he was touching her, loving her. There was a reason she’d never been with any other man.
And now here she was… kissing Maddox. Even with Dalton’s face, Maddox’s lips and body – his touch – all of it was familiar and right. The palm of his hand caressed her hip, slid up to her waist then ribs. He cupped the underside of her breast and trailed the rough pad of his finger over her nipple. A moan escaped her but it was swallowed up by his mouth.
He broke the kiss and she drew in a shaking breath. He tangled a gentle hand in the back of her hair, tugging slightly to make her expose her neck. Teeth bit down on her earlobe and she squealed. How dare he remember what her body liked, and not remember her face? Men!
A trail of kisses brought him to her breast. Unable to stop herself, she thrust it toward his mouth and he chuckled.
He latched onto her nipple and sucked, shooting pleasure directly to her groin. Goose bumps rose on her flesh and she moaned, the sensation of his mouth on her and the gentle fingers tracing up her spine almost unbearable.
“Mmmm… Dalton. That feels so good,” she rasped.
He paused for a moment and his body stiffened, but then he continued as if she’d said nothing. So he didn’t like her yelling out another man’s name in bed? Maybe he’d wear his own face next time he came sniffing around.
He nipped her gently, then paid the same attention to her other breast. Panting and squirming, the last of her misgivings melted away. Gently, he pressed her back on the bed. With maddening slowness he pulled the sheet downward, baring her to him completely.
For a few moments he sat on the edge of the bed, his hot gaze taking her in and assessing her.
Felicity sighed and rolled her eyes.
“You’re always so impatient, sweet girl. Do you ever get to call the shots with me?” He grinned down at her. The expression was all Maddox, even if the face was Dalton. So damned cocky. Fuck, it was hot.
The heat that had been building in her turned molten, putting her on edge. She worried at her lip. “No,” she replied in a tiny voice. “But you always give me what I need. I just have to be patient.” Parroting words he’d said long ago back at him felt strange. Familiarity flickered in his eyes, then it was gone.
“Yes.” One corner of his mouth tipped upward. Then his hands were on her again – firm, demanding, as though he were sculpting her skin. “Why can’t I keep my hands off you?”
She whimpered and pressed up against his hands as they slid along her. “Please, touch me.”
“I am touching you.”
“No, I mean touch me the way I want.”
He planted his big hands on either side of her head and leaned down until his face was just inches from hers. “Use your words, girl. Tell me what you want.”
“I’m tired of being patient. I’ve been waiting for you forever! Just fuck me – love me… please no more games.”
“Is this what you want?” With hands of iron he gripped her thighs, spreading them. He kissed her mouth hard, almost painfully, and shoved a finger up inside her.
She cried out, arching up underneath him. “No,” she begged. “Don’t tease. I need you.”
Maddox stood, stripped off his shirt then tossed it aside. His expression was fierce, dangerous. He kept his pants on and lay between her legs. The hardness of his cock pressed against her heated flesh. She wrapped her arms around his neck and ground her hips against him.
“Please? I need more.” If he didn’t hurry she was going to get off before he even unbuttoned his pants.
Roughly, he fli
pped her face down, then yanked her hips upward. She yelped – she was still bruised and sore, but he ignored her. Or maybe he thought it was a sound of pleasure. He shoved against her a few times. Desperate for an orgasm, this time she screamed in frustration. One hand let go of her hip and, finally, she heard his zipper.
Her breath hissed in and she braced for him to shove into her.
Then both hands left her and she heard his zipper again. Unsupported, she flopped belly down onto the bed. She turned over to see what he was doing. He grabbed his shirt from the floor and put it back on. What the hell?
“What did I do wrong?” she asked uncertainly. The need in her throbbed painfully. When she’d said she needed him, it wasn’t an act.
His gaze slid away from hers for a moment, and he straightened. By the time he looked back at her, the desire in his eyes had been erased and a strange distance had taken its place.
“You were right,” he said. “The guards could come back at any time. I’d better go.”
Her mouth was still hanging open as the door clanged shut behind him.
I’ve seen things, Cee. Things I can’t unsee.
Maddox to Felicity in a letter, February 2004
He smelled like sex and woman. His woman.
Whatever she was – an enemy or a lost memory – she was his and he was done fighting it. Even if all he could do was admire her from a distance and fuck her looking like that prick, Dalton.
Maddox walked the hallway to his father’s office like he had so many times before. But this time was different. This time he had questions. And it didn’t matter what suspicion it caused – he had to know.
He burst into the office without knocking. His father was predictably sitting at his desk in front of his computer. A glimpse of surprise showed on his face before he wiped it away.
“Maddox.” He leaned back in his chair. “Is there something wrong?”
Yes. More than wrong. His whole life suddenly felt like a lie. And now he needed the truth.
“Where did I get the scars?” he demanded.
