“You’re going to be okay, you know,” I inform her as I place my hand on my thighs and stand. I walk over to my log again, sit down, and take the skillet off the fire. I snatch a knife from my bag and begin to cut thick pieces of meat off the deer. “I know it doesn’t seem like it. Your life is complete shit right now. You’re scared. You’re with someone you don’t know. I don’t know where you’ve been, but keep fighting, and your life will eventually get better.” The words are dead to me as I speak them because I don't believe what I’m saying.
Has life gotten better? I’m just as depressed now as I was in prison. I still mourn my family. I haven’t moved on.
I don’t know how.
My new guest groans and moves her legs as she rolls to her side. Good. I wasn’t sure how injured she was. I’m glad to see she has use of her legs. She pushes herself up by placing one hand on the ground and stretching her arm out. She sits that way for a few seconds, her sleepy eyes taking in her surroundings. Her head is turned away from me, so she hasn’t noticed me yet. She scratches the back of her head with her free hand and then she gets a whiff of the food and snaps her neck to the right. Her eyes land on the fire, and that’s when I see what a brilliant blue they are. They shine like aquamarines even in her exhaustion. They are the lightest blue I’ve ever seen, and the shock of them has me holding my breath.
I can’t react this way to someone like her. She’s a victim. I’m going to hell. She has a long journey ahead of her. She doesn’t need some stranger oogling her.
Her eyes finally land on me, and they widen in terror as she scoots away as fast as she can. The leaves crunch under her hands and knees, and she hides behind a nearby tree, peeking her head around the trunk.
“Don’t scream,” I say gentle and slow. I lay the knife down near our dinner and hold my hands up in the air to show I’m not going to hurt her. “I know you’re scared. You have every reason to be. That isn’t going to be fixed with me saying a few kind words. I found you across the river. I gave you clothes. You’re safe here. I’m not going to hurt you. Do you want food?”
She stares at me for a few more seconds, probably wondering if she wants to take a chance on me.
“It’s good food. Got some deer meat, some gravy, whiskey too if you want. It’s my personal stash for a personal reason, but you look like you need a shot or two.” She looks like she needs an entire goddamn bottle, but I’m not going to tell her that, and I’m not going to give her the bottle. The poor girl is skin and bone and probably can’t handle a drop.
Slowly, I sit down on the log and decide to go on with my meal. If she’s hungry enough, she’ll come out.
I place a few squares of meat on my plate and then pile it full of gravy. With my fingers, because fuck utensils, I slosh the meat in the gravy. I shove a piece in my mouth and groan when the flavors burst across my taste buds. I point to my plate just as a drip of juice leaves the corner of my mouth. “This is so good,” I mumble around my mouthful of food. “You’re missing out.” I plop another piece in my mouth and hear a crunch of leaves again.
Come on. I ain’t going to bite. You’re safe.
I keep my eyes on my plate, not wanting to look at her just yet because I don’t want to scare her away.
I hear another crunch of leaves as I chew.
And another.
Until she’s sitting on the blanket I provided for her. I’m relieved. Something inside her trusts me. Maybe it’s just because she’s hungry, I don’t know, but I’ll stay clear. I’ll give her distance. She’s licking her lips, staring at the meat.
“Would you like a plate?”
She nods, still not speaking to me.
“I’ll give you a little—”
A horrible fucking sadness takes over her face, and her eyes swim with tears.
I lift my hands once more and calm her. “Not because you aren’t welcome to it. You are. It looks like you haven’t eaten in a while. If you eat too much too fast, your stomach will go into a shock, and you’ll get sick. Just go slow, okay?” I ask, slicing one piece of meat off and then scoop the ladle from the skillet and pour a bit of gravy on top.
She nods and pushes to her knees, stretching her neck to look over to see the food on the plate. I chuckle and hand it to her, and she greedily snatches it from me. She tilts the plate up and pushes the food into her mouth, and I clear my throat, warning her to slow down.
My strange guest pauses and nods, dropping the plate to her lap. She tries to pace herself and chews slower, but I don’t think it’s working. Poor girl is starving. “You hold that down, I’ll be glad to give you some more. Okay? In the meantime, have some water.” I take a blue mug and pour some water from my thermos. She reaches for it, and I take it back, lifting my brows as I remind her, “Slow, remember?”
She nods again, tilting her pointed chin to her chest and her trembling hands wait for me to place the mug in her palms. She’s chewing slowly, and once she swallows, I hand her the mug. She slurps the water, and her eyes close in appreciation. A cute half smile forms on her lips, and then she takes another drink.
Maybe everything will alright after all.
Four
Jolie
He’s kind, that much I notice. He’s giving me space. He's letting me trust him instead of forcing me to trust. I have a choice. I never have choices. I glance down at my clothes and see I’m in a large t-shirt and sweatpants that are tied on the side of my hip because they are so big. I look at the man who saved me and realize that they are hanging on me because they’re his clothes.
The man who kidnapped me is a big man too, but he isn’t kind. Never once did he show me kindness. I stop chewing on the food when the memories of what he did to me flash in my mind. My stomach turns, and the delicious food turns with it. I stare at the plate, doing my best to calm down, but the anxiety is a slinky, tumbling inside me down a never-ending set of stairs.
“Hey, you okay? What’s wrong?” the man asks.
I shake my head. I don’t want to talk about it.
“Okay, I understand. I won’t push. I know what it’s like to have your secrets.”
I reach for the mug of water again, and the man’s palm lands on my elbow. I yank my arm away from the unwanted touch and cradle my arm to my chest.
“Woah, hey, I’m curious why you have all these bruises. What happened to you? Who did this? Are you running?” His stormy blue eyes narrow, and his jaw tics when he evaluates me and my body. I feel naked with how hard he’s staring. I’m afraid to say anything. What if he’s a partner with the man who kidnapped me?
Trust no one.
Only trust yourself.
I stay silent, and the plate starts to shake from the nerves and fear racking across my heart.
“Listen to me…” The stranger reaches across and holds out his hands, palms up. I glance at them then his face with watery eyes. “It’s okay,” he sooths.
Hesitantly, I stretch my hands out, and they tremble uncontrollably. A tear drips down my cheek, but I’m too afraid to touch him. Touch has never been kind. His fingers curl, and I rip my hand away.
“I’ll let you come to me. You’re in control here,” he says, looking at me through patient eyes. “I won’t hurt you. If I ever do, you can kill me yourself; how about that?”
I gasp and shake my head. I could never do something like that to someone. With a deep breath, I reach out and slide my hands through his. Immediately, I notice the callouses that scratch against my hand, and I’m so used to feeling hands like this in anger, that I’ve never took the time to appreciate how good they feel.
Well, they have never felt good before.
But right now they do.
“There you go. Thank you for trusting me enough for this,” he tells me gently. “My name is Owen Carter. I live around here with a few other guys and their wives. One is pregnant with twins; there is a housekeeper named Julia. Heaven, one of the other guys, he’s a little weird, but if you want, you don’t have to stay out here. You c
an come back with me. You can have your own room, your own space. Food, shelter, clothing. I’ll help you get back on your feet. We are good guys.” His thumbs swipe along my knuckles. “You’re safe with us, and I know that doesn’t mean much, but I want to throw it out there.”
I take my hands away, wondering if this is a way for him to get me alone with others.
He sighs and pulls out a silver flask, guzzling it so much his throat bobs three times. Owen hands the flask to me, and I shake my head. “That’s fair. Whiskey is fucking gross anyway.” He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and screws the cap on the flask. He watches the fire.
My stomach stops twisting, and I can breathe when we lull into silence.
“You’ve been through some shit. I don’t know what, but something, and you’ve survived it. I want to tell you something, something I’ve never really told anyone, but maybe you’ll get a better idea of me and see if you can take a chance on someone you don’t really know.” He unscrews the top of the flask again and takes a swig.
I scoot toward the fire, feeling the warmth against my skin, and I relax. My arms wrap around my legs, and I drop my chin to my knees, wondering what he could tell me that he hasn’t told anyone. It’s been a long time since I’ve learned a secret.
I’ve always been the secret.
The flames dance in his eyes as he sips his whiskey. I want to say he doesn’t have to tell me anything, but I want to hear what he has to say.
“Twenty-two years ago, I was married.” He touches his ring finger, as if he can feel the ghost of his wedding band. “She was…” He smiles, and tears brim his eyes. “She was the love of my life. The kind of thing that only comes around once. She got me to get my head on straight, she believed in me, for some fucked up reason. She wanted me.”
That sounds nice, to be with someone you love like that. I’ve never loved anyone. I’ve only experienced hatred.
“She was pregnant when she was murdered. Some man, I never figured out who, was angry because I worked at a company that sold the medical equipment that killed his wife. Apparently, I was the salesman who sold it to the hospital. He wasn’t happy with me. So my wife called me while the guy was in the house, and I talked to him, listening to her scream. When I got to the house, a knife was embedded in her stomach, and blood was everywhere. I held her in my arms as she took her last breath. I lost her and my little girl. I told the police I killed them because I deserved it. I deserved it, not being able to protect them when they needed me most.” He lands his watery ocean gaze on mine and sighs. “I spent twenty years in jail for a crime I didn’t commit, but I deserved to be there. Still do. When I got out, a guy named Jaxon was waiting for me. Told me I would get the retribution I needed if I joined his team. I never did. Could never find the guy who killed my wife. So I’m in the woods now because it’s the anniversary of her death, and I never really know how to handle it. I lose myself. I mourn. I give myself two days before I’m a robot again. And then I wait another year and do this all over again.” He pours the remaining whiskey from the flask into his mouth and then tosses it in the tent behind him.
It doesn’t mean he’s out, though.
He digs in his bag and pulls out another bottle.
“I usually stay drunk and hunt. I have a lady present now, but I’m not sure if getting drunk is appropriate, so I won’t.” He taps his fingers against the glass of the bottle, thinking long and hard before placing it back in the bag.
I want to tell him who I am now since he shared such a horrible part of him. I’m not sure what to do. I’m afraid to speak. I wrap my fingers around the mug again and sip the water. “My name is Jolie,” I whisper through a hoarse throat and rub my neck as if it will take the gravel away. I haven’t spoken enough.
“Jolie, that’s a pretty name. It’s nice to meet you Jolie.”
I give him a small, tight smile, and debate on what I want to say next. “You too,” I manage to croak out. “Thank you, for the food, water, and clothes.” My cheeks heat when I think about the fact that he must have seen me naked. How embarrassing. My body is in no shape for anyone’s view.
“I see the look on your face. You don’t need to worry. I didn’t look when I pulled the shirt over your head and slid the pants on. You deserve the privacy. You haven’t had much of that lately, it seems.”
I shake my head. No, I haven’t, and I appreciate him giving it to me. It seems like a small thing to him, I’m sure, but it’s everything to me.
“So what do you think? Do you want to stay here out in the woods, or do you want to come back with me? Maybe I can help you find your family, and we can get you back to where you want to be,” he offers, and it sounds nice.
The further away I get from here, the better.
“You don’t have to tell me what happened to you, but I will have to call the cops, and maybe you can tell them what happened. I’m not going to pry.”
I nod. I don’t want to be out here longer than I need to be. And the last thing I want is to talk about what happened to me. I never want to talk about it again. I have to live with the nightmares. I have to live with the fact that I will never be the same person ever again. I’ll see my captor’s face, I’ll see the evil in his eyes as he hovers over me and steals what he wants.
I’ll never be able to find myself again. He took something from me I’ll never be able to take back. Dignity, pride, self-esteem, strength, and much more that I’m too tired to list.
I yawn, covering my mouth with my hand when the exhaustion I’m feeling hits me like a ton of bricks.
“How about you go in the tent and lay down? Get some sleep. I’ll be out here to keep watch. I won’t bother you. Go on.” He juts his head to point me in the direction of the tent, and I don’t want to ask where he will eventually sleep, but I’m not ready to be close to anyone. I stand, rubbing my hands up and down my arms when a cold chill wraps around me. The leaves rustle, and the water from the river rushes somewhere near us. “I’ll get you an extra blanket,” he says, standing to his full height.
I take a step away, tripping over a tree root and falling to my ass. He is gigantic. Tall, broad, muscular, the kind of man who could overpower me without issue. He scares me. My heart pounds quickly, a sledgehammer against my chest.
“Woah, hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” He inches toward me, and I crawl backward until my back hits a tree trunk. I’m trapped. I have nowhere to go. He’s going to kill me.
He squats down and lays his elbows on his knees. He holds out his hand, but doesn’t he loom over me. He gives me space. “I swear to you, I’m not going to hurt you. Don’t you think if I wanted to hurt you, I would have already? Think about it,” he says.
He makes a point.
What if that is the entire reason for him being nice to me? What if he’s building my hopes and trust up? Just to squish me and hurt me. I need to stay on my toes, be vigilant. I have to be able to protect myself from other people.
He waits patiently and tilts his head, eyes softening around the sides as he stares at me. How can he manage to be kind while having bad intentions? I can smell the whiskey on his breath as he exhales. It burns my eyes, and the smell is spicy, like cinnamon.
“It’s my size that scares you,” he realizes. “So someone bigger than you hurt you.” His eyes dart over my face, and his lips form a tight line. “I don’t do that. I don’t hurt women. You don’t have any reason to believe me, but it’s the truth. And neither do my friends. The safest place you’ll ever be is with me and my family. That I can swear on. Come on, let’s get you up and in the tent. I won’t bother you.”
Taking a leap of faith is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do right now. Swallowing my fear, I realize I don’t really have a choice but to trust him. I have nowhere else to go. I’ll die in these woods if I don’t take him up on his offer.
Once again, I slide my hand in his palm and sigh when the warmth seeps into my veins, giving me the bit of strength I need to stand on my
weak legs.
A smile blooms over his face when he sees that I’ve trusted him again. It’s a pretty smile, one I can tell that doesn’t get used often since there are no laugh lines around his mouth, but he does have a hint of Crow’s feet around his eyes, probably from narrowing them so often.
He hasn’t been a happy man.
I walk toward the tent, hands still clasped, and he unzips the flaps of the black tent. “I’ll get you some more blankets. I’m sure you’re cold. Don’t be afraid to ask me for anything, okay? I’ll be right outside. I’m not going to leave you alone. You aren’t going to be alone again, okay, Jolie? Your nightmares are over. I’ll make sure of it.”
I drag my eyes from the tops of his shiny boots and skim his body, ignoring the wide chest invading my vision. I tilt my head back and see his sculpted jawline, Roman nose, and high cheekbones. I hold my breath, afraid to move, afraid to breathe.
Something swirls between us.
Maybe it’s just the wind.
I know it’s something I want to ignore. Men aren’t good for the soul. They love to suck the life out of you until there’s nothing left, leaving you weaker than ever. I let go of his hand and climb inside the tent. I cover myself with the soft plaid blankets and lay my head against the pillow.
He zips up the tent to give me privacy, and something inside me says I need to speak up. “Thank you, Owen,” I whisper, my eyes growing heavier with every second that passes.
“You’re welcome, Jolie,” he says as the teeth of the zipper grind together as they close me in the tent by myself. “Get some rest. I’ll be here.”
Cruel Intoxication: A Dark Romance (Underground Kings Book 4) Page 4
