by P. Jameson
He opened his mouth, but again, nothing came out. And then Leah disappeared behind the door, the sound of it clicking behind her hitting Marlee just as hard as the lock had earlier.
Chapter Seven
Ratchet stared at the bedroom door as it clicked shut, wondering why his mother was in a hurry to leave. The female didn’t look fixed yet. She didn’t look whole, though she looked a hell of a lot better after the shower. And in his clothes.
Like she belonged in them.
Damn that got him fired up, didn’t it?
The thought of a woman in his clothes had never done a thing for him before. In fact, he preferred to keep them far away from his things. The farther the better. But Marlee was different. Seeing her when she emerged from the bathroom, wearing his t-shirt that could almost reach her knees…
He breathed through the emotions battering his chest at the memory. Fucking feelings he had no name or reference for.
Turning, he found her watching him from the bed.
Oh, she looked good like that too. In his bed like she was his.
Was this how it always started? The mating. Was this how his former brothers, Gash and Malcom, found their way? A feeling in your gut that both hurt and calmed in a single breath. One look at the right female and your entire world view changed, morphing into something that no longer revolved around you. It made her the sun and you the goddamn universe orbiting her. Was this… was she… the one who was supposed to burn away his past?
Yes. Her.
If what the voice told him was true… if he could trust it…
Then he had to try hard for her. Not just because his insides were telling him to, but because if she could save him… there was hope for them all. His clan, his mother, their future.
Ratchet picked up the tray and carried it to the bed. Marlee tensed the closer he neared. But she would have to get used to him.
“You like pepperoni?” He kept his voice low. “Or would you rather have dessert first? I’d go for the cake if it were me. My mom’s recipe. All the guys love it.”
She looked away from the food to the black screen of the TV. “No thank you.”
“Cookies then? If you start with something sweet first, your stomach won’t reject it.”
It was a trick he learned from his training. They were made to go hungry when the fathers thought they were too weak. The longer they made it without shifting, the stronger they were said to be. Ratchet had made it four days when he was only ten. Gash topped it the next time by half a day. Then Felix went one hour shy of five days before his cat emerged to save him.
But eating again after so long without was the worst part. Too long without makes the stomach see food as foreign.
Marlee stared at him, skeptical. “How would you know?”
“Just do.”
Her eyes narrowed, taking him in, before she repeated, “No thank you.”
She stared at the TV again. Maybe she wanted to watch it. But eating was most important right now.
“You have a favorite show?”
Seconds ticked by before she answered. “Used to.”
“What is it?”
“Gilmore Girls.”
Ratchet scowled. “Never heard of it.”
“Not surprised,” she muttered.
He set the tray on the foot of the bed and reached for the remote. Clicking the screen on, he pulled up Netflix and searched for the show.
“What is that?” Marlee asked, pulling his attention back to her.
“Streaming. It’s the best way to watch TV.”
Her eyes were big and confused. “I remember Netflix. They send DVDs in the mail. Like a delivery movie rental.”
Shit. She’d missed the entire digital revolution.
“They don’t do it like that anymore,” he grumbled. “They send it straight to your TV now.”
Her brow scrunched as she frowned. It was cute.
Shit. Cute?
The hell was wrong with him?
“How do they send it?”
“It’s connected to the internet. Like email. It sends the data—”
Her gaze snapped to him and she looked like she wanted to roll her eyes. “I know what email is. But… how does this work?”
Ratchet moved closer to the bed. “You just search for a show or movie or whatever. And then hit that button to start it.”
“And it just… plays?”
“Yeah.”
He pulled up the information for the most recent season of her show, Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life, and hit start.
“Wait, what is this?” Marlee murmured. “A new one? I watched the series finale back before… before I was…” Her words stalled out as she watched the intro and then the first scene pull up. “Wow. Rory is all grown up.”
That last part was tinged sad, and he realized that the woman on the screen would be about Marlee’s age. It must remind her she’d lost time. He tried to imagine how that would feel, but he didn’t know. He’d lost a lot, but he hadn’t been tucked away somewhere while time marched on.
He paused the show and Marlee’s gaze snapped to him.
“Wha… why’d you do that?”
“It makes you sad.”
“So?”
“So, I’m not letting you watch it if it makes you sad.”
She tilted her head, looking more confused than ever. “What if I want to be sad. Ever think of that? What if I choose it?”
Ratchet scowled at the female. “You want to be sad?” He’d never heard of such a thing. Who the hell ever wanted to be sad? It was just something you endured, not something you chose.
“I want to watch this show.”
Even if it made her sad.
Well. Fine.
But only after he got what he wanted.
“I’ll turn it on if you eat.”
Marlee stared at him, her mouth hanging open. The split corner of her lip drew his attention. He wanted to reach over and feel it. Test it. See if it hurt. And if it did, find some way to make if feel better.
“You’re bribing me to eat with Gilmore Girls?” Her question came out like a breath. Like she was speaking the unfathomable.
Ratchet straightened his shoulders. Bribing. Yeah, if he had to do something underhanded like that to get food in her belly, he would. Whatever was needed to see to her. He wasn’t a good man. She should expect him to do bad things. Even if it was for a good reason.
“Yeah. I am.” He picked up the tray and forked a piece of the chocolate cake. “The sweet stuff first. You’ll feel better. You’ll see.”
Slowly, because she still looked frightened by his nearness, he brought the fork to her lips. But she didn’t move to eat.
“Open,” he demanded.
“If I eat that, I owe you. I don’t want to owe you.”
Owe him? It was true. She would owe him. But that didn’t mean she shouldn’t eat.
“You already owe me.”
She frowned until a little crease formed between her dark brows. “How could I owe you?”
“For saving you earlier, in the shed. From my leader, Felix. He would have hurt you. But I’m keeping you safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“Keeping me captive you mean.”
He dipped his chin. “As long as it keeps you safe.”
She stared into his eyes, digging for something, searching him out.
“Safe. Even from you?”
Her question was like a punch in the gut. It was simple enough, and an obvious one, since to her, they were hardly more than strangers. The problem was he didn’t know the answer.
From the moment he found her asleep in the shed, he knew he needed to protect her. But how could a lion protect a lamb when he provided the most danger?
The voice inside, the beast that was emerging, so similar to his werecat yet so different, whispered. Your heart will show you how.
“Yes.” He answered his female with confidence because inside he could feel the truth. “I will always keep you safe. Especially
from myself.”
Her eyes grew wide with surprise before narrowing again in distrust. “You could be lying.”
She was smart, his woman. But he would prove himself.
“I could,” he agreed. “But if you want to watch Gillicuddy Girls, you’ll eat.”
“Gilmore.”
“That’s what I said.”
She blinked several breaths away. And then reached unsteadily for the fork. “I can feed myself.”
“You’re shaking. I will do it for you.” He nudged the bite closer to her lips, urging her to comply. The chocolate was so close, it must be torturing her senses.
With a defeated sigh, she parted her lips and he pushed the fork in so carefully. Like he was feeding a cub. Careful with his female.
Her mouth closed around the bite and her eyes did too as he slid the fork back. She was savoring it. A moan of satisfaction eased from her throat and it hit Ratchet right in the crotch, springing his dick to life.
Aw, shit.
He couldn’t deal with that fucker right now. He hadn’t been attracted to a female enough to make him hard in months, and now wasn’t the time for that.
Who was he kidding. With her, there would never be a time.
She might be his, and his heart might need her. But he could never show her his sick way of fucking. It was quick and hard and brutal. And there were plenty of women in the world who liked that. But Marlee… instinctually he knew, wouldn’t.
She would want soft. Sweet. Gentle.
She would want careful touches and slow orgasms that lasted all night. Luxurious kisses that curled her stomach into knots, robbed her breath, and left her body numb with pleasure.
He could offer hard pounding that mixed pain and pleasure and left her a sweaty soaked mess on the floor.
He swallowed hard, willing his erection down just in time for her eyes to open.
“You like it?” he croaked out.
But her eyes were glazed with desire as she stared at the tray. “More. Please.”
He fed her three more bites and every damn time, that moan of satisfaction. It was like food for his soul. Such a little thing maybe, using food to make her happy for a small piece of time, but it felt massive inside, where he was so broken.
“Milk?” she asked weakly.
“We only had one carton and it was opened. Not good for you.”
She eyed him, using her middle finger to wipe a crumb from the corner of her mouth.
“I have more water. Or unopened OJ.”
“Water would be nice.”
He set the tray beside her on the bed and went to the fridge for another bottle. When he returned, she’d picked up the fork, helping herself to the rest of the cake.
“Slow down, little lamb,” he murmured, twisting the cap off the water and handing it to her.
But he didn’t think she heard him.
She gulped the water, spilling some of it down her cheeks, and shoved more cake between her lips.
Ratchet reached for the remote, pressing play on her show, and then pulled over a chair to sit beside her so he could watch her eat. In those moments, he felt more whole than he had in all his years. More satisfaction than any night with a warm willing body. More good than bad. More human than animal. And it had nothing to do with his dual nature. It was his heart, changing.
And it was because of her.
Chapter Eight
The credits rolled for the end of the show Marlee loved. Streaming. Netflix. It was nothing like the tiny boxy television she’d watched for years in the basement. It got only local channels and they were grainy. Ratchet’s TV was crisp and so bright it almost hurt her eyes. She’d think it was some special television only rich people could afford. But looking around his room told her he wasn’t wealthy.
Everything was simple. Clean, but well used. From the rug to the chipped dresser to the plain cotton bedsheets.
Which meant this was just a normal television and the thing she’d been watching for years was probably old as dirt.
She searched the darkness for Ratchet. After she’d eaten what she could, he shut off everything, leaving only the TV for light. Now she found him asleep in the chair he’d pulled over. It was between the bed and the wall. Too close to the door for her to escape.
But something else kept her inside the room now.
The fear of what waited for her beyond the door.
Leah said there was danger. Something worse than her son, who… didn’t seem all that dangerous. Sure, Marlee could feel the restraint he operated under. She could feel that he was dangerous. Had maybe even done bad things. He just didn’t seem dangerous for her.
He let her watch whatever she wanted. Fed her. Gave her clothes. Didn’t ask to use her body. And kept her a secret from the ones she’d seen in the lounge. From his leader, who was apparently Satan incarnate from the way they talked.
But he doesn’t know who you belong to.
Everything would change when Ratchet found out. It would have to. He’d give her up. Unless Leah could get her out before then.
Marlee pushed down the panic that came with that thought, and focused on the sleeping man nearby.
He’d slouched in the seat so that his head could rest on the back. His blond hair was tousled, a few strands of it hanging over his closed eyes. His face was pointed in her direction. Like he’d fallen asleep watching her.
He’d taken the chair and given her his bed.
It was so unexpected. A captor giving instead of taking. It confused her inside. Made her feel safer when she should feel trapped.
The screen of the TV dimmed, preparing to shut off. It sent fresh panic to her middle.
Leaning over the edge of the bed, she carefully eased the remote out of Ratchet’s loose grip. She held her breath, only making a millimeter’s progress at a time so she wouldn’t wake him. But she was still shaking from the residual drugs in her system. Sleep would help. But she couldn’t sleep in the dark.
She nearly had the remote free when her hand accidentally brushed against his.
He growled out a snarl, his eyes snapping open. Their blue nearly glowed in the darkness as he glared at her, and his fingers wrapped around her wrist like a vice, squeezing tight. He moved like lightning, striking so fast she couldn’t have done a thing to prevent it.
“Ow!” she cried.
The remote clattered to the floor and Ratchet’s angry face went slack with awareness. His gaze shot to her arm where he held it, and with the next blink, he dropped her like she’d scalded him.
Marlee scrambled backward until her back hit the headboard.
“Sorry.” His voice whipped from his throat, rough and heavy with sleep. “I didn’t mean to touch you.”
She rubbed at her wrist. It didn’t hurt as much as it had shocked. His touch was hot enough to burn her.
“Not used to having anyone near while I sleep. I don’t…” He cleared his throat, sitting forward and running his palms roughly over his face. “I don’t rest when other people are around.”
Marlee huffed out a breath, forcing the panic down. “Why don’t you?”
He stared at her through the dimness. The light from the TV reflected off his lips that were parted with heavy breathing.
“Never a good idea to be vulnerable.”
Marlee swallowed hard. She’d lived that way too, for ten years. But before, when she was around the people she loved, she hadn’t thought like that. So why here, in his home, did Ratchet need to be so vigilant?
“Your family would hurt you?”
“Not permanently. But yes. If it got them ahead somehow.”
“What kind of family is that?”
“A fucked up one.” He stood and went to the fridge, pulling out another bottle of water and a beer. “You get enough to drink?”
Marlee nodded, still rubbing at her wrist.
“Did I hurt you?” His question was low and soft. Tentative, like he didn’t want to ask and was afraid of the answer.
&nbs
p; “Not really.”
He passed her the water and collapsed back into his chair, expression troubled. His knees spread wide, like he was trying to get comfortable and he dug into his pocket coming out with a ring of keys. Attached was a bottle cap opener in the shape of an animal’s paw. He used it on the beer, flicking the lid into the nearby trashcan before taking a swig.
“I was just trying to get the remote.”
He raised an eyebrow that morphed into a frown. He found the controller on the floor and set it on the comforter next to her legs and raised his bottle to his lips again.
“Was just gonna restart the show. I don’t like sleeping in the dark.” Oh, she shouldn’t have told him that. What was she thinking?
Slowly, he pulled the bottle from his lips, staring at her like she’d given him her darkest secret to guard.
“You shouldn’t tell me things like that,” he said darkly. “Shouldn’t tell anyone your weaknesses.”
“I know.” She did. It had slipped out.
“It’s fine. I’ll keep it tight,” he vowed. “But around here, if you encounter anyone else, don’t show your tender spot. Understand? We… they feed off weakness.”
She nodded, feeling stupid for letting it out. She knew better. One time she’d confided in the dolls how the radio helped her feel connected to the rest of the world. The next day her captor had smashed it and told her she could have another one when she started working for it.
What a bastard.
She eyed Ratchet. Something about him had practically pulled the confession from her. Her instincts wanted to trust him when her mind warned her not to. Her instincts had never been wrong. But now, what if she was too broken and it was leading her astray?
What if she couldn’t even trust herself anymore?
“I work tomorrow,” he said, his tone going remorseful. “I’ll have to leave you for a while. You’ll stay here. You can rest. Watch your show. Whatever. But don’t leave the room. Never leave here without me.”
It was a warning, not a threat. She knew that now.
“I won’t.”
His eyes searched hers for honesty.
“The men you live with aren’t kind.”
“None of us are,” Ratchet agreed.
