Celia Kyle - Battered Not Broken

by Celia Kyle

  Gillian shook her head, unwilling to admit her feelings for the brothers to anyone. She still hadn't accepted them herself. Good women didn't go around fantasizing about having three men at once. They just didn't.

  "It's hard to accept at first, I admit. Society doesn't look upon our relationship as a normal one, but in our tribe, it's as normal as a man marrying a woman. When identical twins or triplets are born, they are each part of the same soul. Our tribe believes that in order for the men, or women to be happy, they must find their true soul mate.” Ethel shrugged slightly, “But how can identical siblings who share a soul find their soul mates when part of their own being is so intimately connected to their brother or sister? We believe that in order for them to be happy, the brothers must stay together and search for the one person who can complete and compliment them all."

  Gillian's mouth went dry, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth. “You're saying ... you're saying I'm their..."

  "I believe you are, and I couldn't be happier. I have a feeling they believe you are as well, but they're afraid. But I didn't tell you this to frighten or burden you, dear. I just wanted to prepare you for the three hulking men who look a lot like the boys and will be joining us shortly. My sons won't rush you into anything; their fathers and I raised them better. But I also won't hide my love for my husbands, and I didn't want our behavior to shock you."

  Tears burned Gillian's eyes. Their mother thought she was their soul mate and couldn't be happier. With a few chosen words and squeeze of Gillian's hands, Ethel had eased her fears about being in what society would deem a “perverted” relationship. Not holding them back, the salty fluid leaked from her eyes, streaming down her cheeks. Gillian wiped them away, drying her hands on her jeans.

  Ethel clicked her tongue. “None of that, dear, none of that. No crying in heart-to-hearts. Dinner's about ready, and we'll have six hungry men descending on us in any second. Why don't you pop into the bathroom and wash up?"

  With a nod, Gillian rose on shaky legs. Not questioning her need, she shuffled around the table to stand face-to-face with Ethel and enveloped the older woman in a tight hug. “Thank you."

  "Oh no, dear. Thank you. You're perfect for my baby boys and they've been looking for you for so long. I meant what I said, you shouldn't allow yourself to be rushed, but I know the four of you will be very happy together."

  Gillian had a feeling their mother was right. Pulling out of the hug with a sheepish smile, she padded down the hallway and into the bathroom, anxious to dash warm water on her face and clean up any remaining blood from the scratch on her head. She didn't think much remained, Max hadn't even seemed to notice the cut, but she didn't want to take any chances.

  Running warm water in the sink, she splashed it over her face, wiping at the last remnants of blood along her hairline. With any luck, the other two wouldn't notice. Turning off the water and drying her face, she bent at the waist and crossed her arms before laying them on the cool counter top. Propping her chin on her arms, she closed her eyes, her mind rolling with the information Ethel had shared.

  Three men and one woman? Wow, apparently in their tribe, such a relationship was viewed as normal. Gillian had never been one to believe in legends and soul mates, but she couldn't deny the feelings Ronan, Conner and Max elicited from her. A general sense of safety, along with warmth and protection enveloped her when in their presence. She didn't think anything bad could happen to her with them around.

  Ethel seemed to think she was the missing piece of their foursome, but did Gillian feel the same way? Beyond a sexual attraction lurked other feelings she didn't know if she could release yet. She'd trusted once before and loved fully, only to be betrayed and nearly killed. Fear still lingered in Gillian's heart, but maybe it was time to release the fear and open up to them. They had proven their worth to her already. The least she could do was try.

  Opening her eyes, another figure in the mirror captured her attention. Her heart stopped before picking up a galloping beat and fear, deep seeded, physical beating imposed fear, held her in place.

  "I've missed you.” Kyle stepped closer, a mud-caked hand stroking the top of her head and still she didn't move. “I've been hunting you, and now I've found you.” Thick, dirty fingers dug through her hair, snagged and pulled at the strands as he forced her head back as she stood, moving with his grasp. “You've been running a long time, Gillian. But I've found you, and now, I'll cleanse you before I take you back.” His breathing came harsh. The stench nearly overwhelmed her and she opened her mouth to breathe. She could taste his hate in the air. “Got to wash those men off of you. You whored your body out to them, but I'll wash you clean again."

  He yanked on her hair and toppled her backwards. She landed with a thud and a scream muffled by his hand over her mouth. His hand moved and closed around her throat, his grip tightening with each breath, cutting off her airflow.

  "Ah, ah, ah. No screaming, Gillian. You remember our rule."

  Of course, she remembered. No screaming, no yelling, no fighting back. Lie there and take it, bitch. She'd close her eyes and take it, take everything. Nodding, she sighed as he relaxed the hold he had on her throat.

  "Gilly? You okay in there, dear?” Damn, Ethel. Ethel needed to run, to hide. He'd hurt her and Gillian would never forgive herself. Never.

  His voice grated in her ear. “Get rid of her."

  Good, he didn't want Ethel, only her. “I'm fine, Ethel, just tripped and I'm having a bit of trouble with a door."

  "All right dear. If you're sure?"

  "I'm fine, Ethel, really. Just trouble with a door and then I'll be out.” Please let him be too drunk to realize what I'm trying to say. Please.

  Kyle yanked on her hair again and she followed his tugs, bending at the waist as he dragged her toward the bathroom window. Pulling a gun from his waistband, she eyed the barrel as he directed her with harsh roughened whispers. “Out. Don't yell for help. I'd hate to shoot someone because you couldn't remember our rule."

  She'd hate that too. After climbing through the window, she made sure each step she made left large, deep prints in the snow. Maybe they could follow them and rescue ... No, they'd only get hurt. Gillian couldn't stand the thought of them getting hurt. She'd have to figure a way out of this on her own. She'd escape and come back to them. She would.

  The gun pressed into her back as she stumbled through the woods, her adrenaline pumping, and her muscles ready and waiting to be put into use. She'd act docile and wait. Wait for the perfect moment to run, hit, or hide.

  The sound of rushing water filtered through the trees and Eric's previous words came back in a rush. I'll cleanse you before I take you back. No! Her mind screamed, and her body rebelled. She stopped moving, frozen to the spot. Instinct told her he planned to use the river as his cleansing medium. There was no way she'd go willingly into the frozen waters of the river. No.

  "Move.” He cocked the gun, the bullet dropped into place as he prepared to shoot it into her body. “Move your ass.” Kyle shoved the barrel into her spine, digging into her through her layers of clothing.

  Death by beating and Kyle's version of cleansing or hypothermia, which should she choose? Neither sounded appealing, but the water—it moved fast, deadly cold. It would sweep her away. Maybe ... maybe she could swim to safety—dive into the freezing, turgid waters and let the current carry her away from him, away from danger.

  Stars burst behind her eyes as something hard, cold crashed into her temple. Pain lit every nerve ending and she stumbled, catching herself on a tree. The bark dug into her palms, but the extra twinge kept her coherent while Kyle barked orders at her. “Move.” He struck her with the butt of the gun. “Your.” This time, he punched her in the stomach and she slid down the trunk. “Ass.” She hadn't seen it coming and wasn't prepared for the kick. His foot struck her ribs and what little air she'd sucked in rushed out with a wheeze.

  Kyle didn't give her time to recover though. He dug his fingers into her hair, g
rabbed a handful and yanked. She had no choice but to follow. Gillian stumbled to her feet, tripping on twigs and rocks as she followed Kyle's path. Bent over at the waist, she still couldn't catch her breath. Tiny droplets of blood stained the snow beneath her and she prayed the brothers wouldn't see. She didn't want them following, not when Kyle had a gun. And he'd use it.

  They'd reached the bank of the river, and Kyle threw her as he released his grip. Gillian took a step forward, choosing her fate. She'd get away and begin her run again. As much as she wanted to return to her three men, she couldn't risk bringing this danger upon them again.

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  Chapter Ten

  Warmth surrounded her. A dull ache throbbed through her body, but the warmth kept it mostly at bay. Sweet, tender heat enveloped her from head to toe. With heavy eyelids, she awakened to her room. Hmmm ... Even in death she dreamt of her place with the Bearclaw brothers. Ironic. She should have told them of her growing feelings for them before she died, should have confessed to her attraction to the three of them. Too late now.

  With a sigh, she rolled to her side and the ache increased for a moment, transforming to a shooting pain which covered her completely before resuming its previous dull throb. Damn, heaven had been touted as the perfect place, so why did it hurt so much? The warmth shifted behind her, covering her now exposed back and she settled back into her peaceful sleep, dreaming of the three men she had left behind.

  Time passed as she continued to rest, semi-waking occasionally to find the same heat surrounding her, infusing her with feelings of love and protection as she slept. She imagined sleeping with the Bearclaw brothers would feel like this—protected from all sides, cared for and loved like no other. Part of her wondered if God would let her go back, go back to her men and profess her feelings. After staring into Kyle's hate-filled gaze, she realized her feelings for Ronan, Conner and Max had to surely be love.

  She grew restless, light burned through her eyelids, and she threw an arm over her face to block out the morning sun. Her other arm came into contact with a large, warm body. Jerking awake, she went rigid with the realization that she wasn't alone.

  "Gilly?” Ronan.

  She'd been sent to hell. Nowhere else would phantasms of her loves be presented to torment her. Whimpering, she covered her face, tears burning and soaking the sheets as she cried.

  "Poppet?” God, not Conner, too.

  The devil was cruel, creating creatures similar to two of her loves. Would Max round out the threesome?

  "No.” Please no.

  "No what, Gilly? You need something, love?” She needed to be alive, not trapped in hell with Ronan and Conner.

  Unseen hands tugged at the sheet covering her face and she relinquished it reluctantly. Gillian squeezed her eyes shut, tight. She hadn't expected the warm, callused hand stroking her face, or the silken lips kissing away her tears. The apparitions kissed a dead woman and the pain nearly tore her apart.

  "Dead,” she croaked. Her voice sounded harsh.

  "No one's dead, poppet. You came close, but you seem to be doing well now,” Conner whispered against her cheek.

  "Don't lie.” Gillian didn't have the strength to say much else, but she didn't dare hope the specter spoke the truth. Because if it did, it meant she wasn't too late. She could confess her feelings and open her arms to them. If...

  "Not a lie, Gilly. Never a lie. You were in bad shape when Dad pulled you from the river, but Mom fixed you up right. Your body is probably sore from banging on the rocks and from ... from the beating Kyle gave you, but you are alive, my Gilly,” Ronan's voice assured her, his lips brushing her ear with every word.

  Alive? She lived? Not a lie? Not hell. Not illusions. Alive. God, she wanted to dance and sing and hug the men beside her, but she didn't have the strength.

  Snippets of her memory came filtering back as she lay on the bed, wrapped in the warmth of Conner and Ronan's bodies. Images of Kyle beating her, striking her as he pushed her toward the water filtered through. The butt of the gun had struck her once ... no, twice, at her temple. Had she said something to make him angry? She couldn't remember. But he wanted her clean, cleansed.

  Gun cocked, ready to shoot, he'd pushed her toward the water. It had been her chance. Instead of stepping in slowly like he'd no doubt expected, she jumped, not thinking of the way the ice cold water would freeze her muscles, tighten her body. Once wrapped in the river's embrace, she had been powerless to direct her body's movement. A victim of the roaring current, it swept her downstream, leaving a raging Kyle behind.

  She remembered hearing screams and shouts. The echo of gunshots flittered through her mind. Had she been shot? No. Conner and Ronan hadn't mentioned her being shot. What about...

  "Max?” Her eyes traveled from Conner to Ronan and back again, and she didn't think she would like what she was about to hear. Their faces paled slightly, brows furrowed as if thinking of a lie to tell her. “The truth."

  As if conjured by the mention of his name, Max's voice traveled through the silent room to capture her attention. “She's awake? Oh, Gilly..."

  Levering her body up, she rested her weight on her elbows as she stared at Max in the doorway. A white bandage wrapped around his head as well as a sling cradling his right arm told her that if anyone had been shot, it had been Max. Her carefree, smiling, mischievous Max. A sob tore at her throat, but she swallowed it back. No matter what she'd been through, it was obvious he'd been through worse.

  "No tears, Gilly. I'm okay and so are you.” He closed the distance between them. Conner rose, giving Max his place. The moment Max settled on the bed, she laid her head in his lap, anxious to feel his touch. His hand stroked through her hair and pulled at the tangled strands, but the sharp tugs of pain reminded her she was alive. She didn't complain.

  "What happened?” She had to know. Had to know how they knew she needed them and they came to her rescue.

  "Maybe we could talk about this another...” Max tried to push it off, but she needed to know.

  "Now."

  The three men sighed in unison and she imagined them sharing a look of annoyance, but it didn't matter to her.

  "Poppet?” Conner hedged.

  "Now, please now.” She gripped Max's thigh, afraid he'd disappear and not give her the answers she needed.

  Ronan pressed against her back, his chest, groin and thighs melding to her. Conner laid on the bed near her feet, but in her line of sight. Surrounded. Her men surrounded her, each of them stroking a part of her with gentle touches.

  Max spoke first. “We came in after fixing your car and Mom said you'd been in the bathroom a while. At first ... at first, we thought she'd told you more about us than we would have liked and you were hiding out. We got pissed and argued.” Gillian smiled as she twined her fingers with Ronan's on her hip. She just bet they argued. “Then she mentioned that maybe you were stuck. You said you were having trouble with a door."

  Ronan's fingers tightened around hers, he growled in her ear. “We knew he had you. God, we ran harder and faster than we ever had before. Broke the door down and saw his footprints on the floor.” It figured Ronan would notice the footprints. “I followed through the window, running, needing to find you. Max was on my heels, Conner got our dads. By the time we caught up to you and Kyle, you'd already thrown yourself into the river. I ... I tried to come in after you, but it swept you away...” Hot, wet tears fell onto her cheek and she realized what her life meant to them. She'd been willing to end her life to save them and he'd been willing to do the same.

  Max brushed the hair from her face. She looked up into his eyes. “I fought him. He ran, up the outcropping, firing at me, but I didn't care. I thought he'd ... he'd hurt you, killed you. Before I could get to him, he fell over the edge and into the river. Still firing as he went in."

  The tension in the room rose, thrumming through the brothers. Conner stroked the tender skin of her ankle, drawing her attention. “Dad and I found you, floating, near f
rozen. We pulled you...” His grip tightened as he drew a breath. “Pulled you from the river, stripped you and wrapped you in our jackets, brought you home.” They'd brought her home. Home. She liked the sound of that word. “Mom took care of you, told us what to do. We wanted to take you to a hospital, but Mom said your spirit is strong.” Conner gifted her with a half smile. “She was right."

  "I said her spirit was strong, but her body is not invincible!” The four of them jumped, jostling Max and sending new aches through her body. Ethel, framed by the doorway with three large men crowded behind her, stomped her foot. “Leave the girl to rest."

  "Aw, Mom,” the three men groaned in unison.

  Conner spoke up for them, trying to cajole their mother and fathers. “Please?"

  Fathers, wow. Staring at the men standing behind the diminutive Ethel, Gillian saw where the brothers’ size came from. At least now she had a good idea of what her men would look like in about thirty years.

  Ethel stomped forward, an imposing presence even if the only reason she towered over the men was because they were lying down. “She needs her rest and so does your brother, Conner Bearclaw."

  "Pop?” Max whined. A thirty-year-old man, whining.

  "You heard your mother,” one of their fathers spoke. Gillian could hardly keep the brothers straight in her mind, how would she differentiate their fathers? Then again, when had she decided she would stay? When I thought I'd died and lost my chance. No chickening out now.

  "Father...” Ronan pleaded. At least now she knew what the references to Pop, Father and Dad were. It was how the family differentiated between the different fathers. Good idea, she'd have to remember that when she...

  "Now, Ronan,” another father replied. They all looked the same! Dammit! Midnight black hair, brown eyes, and the cinnamon skin of their ancestors—and all three of them wore large grins as the brothers tried to weasel their way into staying.