Claw 1

by Lucian Bane

  “You got it. Call me with the rest of the deets and I’ll get started asap.”

  “Thanks man.”

  “So how hot is she?” he asked.

  “Let’s just say I don’t want to look at her much less touch her.”

  He made hissing noises. “Damn man!”

  “Yeah, lucky me. Shit she’s coming. I’ll call you later.”

  Dante eyed her as she walked toward the guest house only to see her remove her bathing suit wrap next to the lounge chair. She made her way to the pool, her steps quick. What was she up to? Nobody ever swam in the pool and yet here she was. Taking him up on his suggestion.

  I’m not a harlot Mr. Dante.

  Hmm. He wasn’t so sure about that now. Sure as fuck didn’t feel like a coincidence that she offered to help him with any need he had and good ole husband concurred.

  He froze. Holy shit … were they trying to use him to … get her pregnant? Now that would be sounfucking cool. Why not just get a sperm donor?

  No, couldn’t be that. Who the fuck in their right mind would want ex-con sperm?

  This was something else. Maybe he read the dude’s words wrong. He’d said something about having more than one wife, not more than one husband. But her, on the other hand, was a different matter.

  There was nothing that Dante hated more than a woman who was unfaithful to a good man. Daryl may be weird but if he was wrong about him, then he seemed to love his wife. God damn he’d be so disgusted if she was a slut.

  He’d be watching her. She’d tell on herself soon enough. And he bet he could easily bring that about without hardly trying.

  ****

  Rin sat at the edge of the pool, her heart trying to hammer out of her chest. Would he come out? Did he even see her? Maybe she should have worn her hair down. But it was hard enough to wear the bathing suit. She never wore her hair down. She remembered the book. God, that book! She’d skimmed past the non sex stuff and before it was over, she felt like she’d ascended into heaven through the gates of hell. Her body still hummed and tingled and her heart would never stop racing it seemed. Now, more than ever, she wanted to talk to Dante. Ask him things about what she read. She cringed at the thought of asking.

  She heard the door open behind her and gripped the edge of the pool, waiting.

  He sat next to her and instinct made her move over a little. She wanted to kick herself.

  “You done already?” he asked, his voice even.

  “Pretty much,” she said, trying to keep her words strong and normal sounding.

  “Did you learn anything?”

  She nodded and gasped. “That I did.”

  “Good,” was all he said, putting his feet in the water. “Any more questions?”

  Oh God. She focused her gaze in the water and he suddenly removed his shirt, making her gasp. “So fucking hot out here,” he said, standing. He dove in the pool and she jumped with the slight spray of cold water.

  She watched him swim underwater across to the other side, her gaze devouring the designs carved on him. They seemed to glow under the water. He came up and tossed his head, slinging the water from his hair. Magnificent. He looked over his shoulder and her heart caught in her chest when his brilliant blue eyes aimed at her.

  “Well?” he swam toward her, making her stomach clench in excitement. He stood in the water before her, his upper chest glistening in the sun. She wanted to look him in the eyes but her gaze refused to move from his scars.

  “What … are those from?” she asked.

  “Body art,” he said. “You like it?”

  She tried to raise her gaze to his, but her eyes didn’t make it past his mouth, his smile, his lips. The fullness and shape of them. She went higher and swallowed when their eyes locked. She tried to recall the questions. Did she like it. “The book was unlike anything I’ve ever read.”

  He glided his hands in the water, angling his head at her. “First time reading erotic romance?”

  “Erotic romance?” She knew both of those words in a vague sense and heat pooled in her stomach. She managed to shake her head then remembered the question. “I mean yes. First time.”

  “Did you like it?” he asked.

  “I …” hadn’t she answered that? “Loved it.”

  “Most women do,” he said lightly.

  “Have you … have you experienced those things?”

  He eyed her in such a direct way, the place between her legs ached. “I have. You?”

  She shook her head quickly. “Nothing like it.”

  He lowered his gaze, “Why not?”

  “I … I don’t know.”

  This time when he raised his gaze, they paused at her breasts. “Do you want to?”

  She knew her lips had parted and her breathing had turned gushy. God, she hoped it wasn’t as loud to him as it was to her. “I do,” she whispered and swallowed, licking her lips. “Very much.”

  He moved to the edge of the pool and put his hands on the side and pulled himself up. She eyed him with a furtive glance over her shoulder as he walked to his door and went inside. She faced forward, clenching her eyes tight and gasping for air. Did he want her to follow?

  Oh God, could she do this? Visions of what the man and woman had done in the book set her on fire with little whimpering sounds. What happened to him not being that kind of man?

  Not wanting to anger him, she got up and hurried to her wrap, eyeing the screen door as she put it on. She finally made her way to it. She took slow steps, feeling the pull of hot power in her limbs. The promise of exquisite pleasure that would change her forever.

  Her breaths came faster as fears crept up alongside her. What would happen after? What would he do after? What if Daryl found out?

  What did God think?

  She spun and hurried away from his door as fast as she could, running when she got close to the house entrance. She then ran up the stairs to her room and locked herself in it. Panting for more air, she threw herself on the bed and grabbed tight hold of the pillow, burying her face in it. She laid there, breathing, breathing, breathing through the rush of everything. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t scared. She wasn’t worried. She was something else, something that made her tremble with a new energy.

  She was … alive.

  CHATPER SIX

  WTF

  Dante shook his head, back to confused. All those looks in her eyes, the way she stared at him, the things she said, the tone she said them in, the things she didn’t say and do. Fuck, she was a piece of work, wasn’t she? She was so good, he’d nearly fell for that genuine reaction, that sincerity.

  Now what?

  Now he’d just do his fucking job, that’s what. Now, he’d pretend that he was paranoid and go on about his fucking business there. If she was a slut, she’d have to bring it all the way. He wasn’t going to lure it out of her, just in case he was wrong. Like hell he’d be the blame if she chose to fall. Fuck, if he hadn’t already! He needed to keep his distance. That’s what the fuck he needed to do. And would.

  Dante spent the next day focusing on ordering everything for her protocol. She’d not come back since the day before and already half the day was gone and still no sign of her. Good. Maybe she realized her mistake—if she’d actually made one—and was correcting it.

  He finished his order and printed out the protocol to give her a copy of it. He’d need to go over it with her and boy did he look forward to that awkward moment.

  He called Daryl and filled him in on the plan, and for the first time, Dante felt like the dude really couldn’t be bothered with the details. He stared at the phone when he hung up, shaking his head at how baffling the two of them were. In prison, it wasn’t like that. You knew what people were about just by looking at them. Their body language, or just one conversation. But out in the real world? The facades were thicker than an elephant’s cock. And he was at a disadvantage with Mr. Bernard since he’d not met him. The pictures of them in the house seemed old. Marriage and honeymoon kin
d, not real, current life kind.

  He spied the maid watering plants near the pool and hurried out to her. “Miss Renee?”

  She straightened and beamed her smile. “Dante,” she sang.

  “Can you give this to Rin? And let her know I’ll call her cell to go over them with her. I’m going to be taking it easy for the rest of the day. I’d like to go over everything with you as well so that we’re all working together.”

  “Sure sure sure,” she said with concerned brow. “So you think you can fix her?” she whispered.

  Dante looked at her and she hissed. “I know about the baby thing,” she said. “I’m not a fool, I hear everything.”

  At seeing the look in her dark eyes, Dante pried carefully. “Does … her husband love her Renee?” It was the question that would cover it all.

  The woman’s face slowly fell until it looked dark. “I need to water your house plants Mr. Dante,” she said loudly, making her way over. He realized what she was doing and casually followed her.

  Entering his guest house, she was waiting with an eager look on her face. “Mr. Dante, I don’t like to get involved but Mr. Bernard is a very cruel man to Rin.” She shook her head with a sick look on her face. “He has brought other women here to this guest house. I see this. Rin doesn’t see it or maybe she does and pretends to not notice?” she shrugged her full shoulders, her brows furrowed in pain. “He comes once a month just to try for a baby and he talks to her worse than an animal. Not in front of me. Never," she shook her head quickly. "But I hear what goes on behind closed doors.” Her headshaking slowed to dreadful while Dante’s heart hammered harder with every word.

  “Does he hit her?”

  The woman nodded slowly. “He’s very careful not to leave marks but I hear it. My sweet Rin,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “You never meet such a pure heart. Loves the Lord so much and just wants to be good,” she whispered, her face twisting in agony. “I think he is slowly killing her and I’m happy you’re here. I pray for this!”

  “She needs to leave him,” Dante said.

  The woman shook her head with wide eyes. “She can’t. He will kill her, I hear him say this.”

  “Like fuck he will,” Dante said.

  “This church he is go to is very big and powerful. Not good Dante. They treat the women like sex slaves. I hear Mr. Bernard try to make her do things with other people from the church! And Rin has been with him since she was twenty, she is stuck. She won’t leave. She thinks it’s a sin to leave!”

  That motherfucker. Dante was pacing now. A sin to leave? That was fucking bullshit on a platter.

  “Oh, she is coming!”

  Dante got busy doing something while Renee watered his plants and hummed.

  Rin knocked on the door and he called, “Come in.”

  She entered and he glanced at her, trying to appear clueless while she stood in the door glancing between him and Renee with a sick look of worry.

  “All done,” Renee sang as she turned. “You’re up. Good, I was ready to throw you out so I could get your laundry.”

  “Don’t forget to go over that list I gave you Renee please,” he said as she hurried out.

  “Will do.”

  Dante didn’t look at Rin as he picked up a copy of her protocol and handed it to her. “I’ll need you to read over it and ask any questions.”

  “Fine,” she said, taking the papers.

  He paused and eyed her finally. “You okay?”

  “I’m absolutely fine,” she gasped. “I’m ... I"m here to apologize to you.”

  He leaned against the bar and crossed his arms. “About what?”

  She kept her gaze lowered. “I … I have had … improper thoughts about you and I’m so very sorry and ashamed," she strained. "I have confessed and repented and want you to know that no improper thing will-will happen again.”

  For the first time Dante allowed himself to stare at her. Really stare at her, standing there with her head hanging in shame.

  He didn’t have a lot of experience with women but he had enough to know that considering what he’d just learned about her husband … he’d never met anybody more beautiful. Ever.

  His blood raced through his body as his brain connected a lot of fucking dots in the span of ten seconds. That bastard had hired him to heal his wife. And he would. But by the time Dante was finished, she’d walk out of there and never look back. He’d not need to lay one finger on her to do it either. Or maybe he would.

  She finally looked up at him and their gazes locked. “Don’t be sorry, Rin,” he said softly. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to start your protocols immediately.”

  She nodded, wiping her face. “Of course. Just tell me what to do and I will,” she gasped, fighting not to sob.

  “I’ll need to see you here tonight for a physical.”

  Her eyes jerked to his.

  “Nothing painful, I promise.” The agony in her gaze struck him hard. He understood for the first time what she was fighting. Years of neglect had her fucking starved and she could hardly contain her need.

  Dante fought his rage that she’d been suffering in that way for that long.

  “What time should I be here?”

  “Come after supper.” He turned to his supplies and picked up a bottle of sea salts soaked in pure lavender oil. “I want you to use this.” He handed it to her. “Take a twenty minute hot soak before you come. I need to check your muscle tone, joint function and flexibility.”

  She nodded and swallowed. “Okay. Soak and supper.” She shook her head. “Supper and soak. Then come here.”

  “Yes.” He wondered now if she’d ever even had an orgasm. His body finally caved under all the thoughts he was having and he turned to hide his growing arousal.

  “I’ll … do that. Thank you Dante.”

  “You’re welcome Rin,” he said, not turning as she hurried out.

  Dante turned and stared at the black bag with the massage table. First order of healing for her was being touched. Touched by hands that understood adoration. By the time he was done with her protocol, he'd have complete healing accomplished. And that dirty sick bastard would pay for every bit of it. He'd pay Dante to teach his wife that she was beautiful. That she was desirable. That she was the most amazing woman in the world. And then he’d teach her how to crush his balls and leave him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  DANTE’S INFERNO

  Rin laid in the tub for twenty minutes, exactly as instructed and not a minute less or a second more. She was burning in the water. Burning at the stake looming ahead, her mind and pores flayed in the soothing scent of lavender oils. But it wasn’t the lavender. It was him. It was the memory of his touch, his look, his smile, his lips, his tone. And now it was the curse of a promise singing in her blood. Torture. That’s what she was bound for. The most sinful, rapturous torture she would ever feel and never be allowed to feel.

  Why? Why had her life turned out this way?

  This was her cross. Her cross to bear. If she had not played the harlot she would not be here. If she had been obedient to God, she would not be laying in a tub that felt like a burning grave. Preparing for her death under the touch of a man she should not even look at.

  She dressed as one preparing for battle. Layers and layers of material to protect her from what was coming. She would pray through it, that was all. She would pray her hardest and she would do what was right and suffer. That was her own doing. It was not this man’s fault she chose the wrong husband. It was not this man’s fault she’d missed the signs and turned a blind eye to the lies.

  It was her cross to bear. And she would bear it in obedient silence and God would see to the rest. She held her breath and strained down the sob fighting for freedom, fighting to speak up in her defense, speak out in protest, scream in fury and beg in desperate longing.

  God would see to the rest. He would. He would.

  She made her way to the guest house in a half daze, the warm tile under her feet ba
rely registering. She knocked on the door before she lost all nerve.

  “Come in,” he called.

  Her hand froze on the door handle and she closed her eyes, gasping through the sudden flood of fear. God prepare your servant and instill in me your love and word that I might stand against the enemy in my flesh and conquer him. Amen.

  She walked in and shut the door, keeping her eyes cast down.

  “I need to perform a standard massage to assess muscle tone and joint movement. I’ll need you to undress and cover with this sheet. I’ll step into the bathroom to give you privacy. Just call me when you’re done and covered.”

  She fought not to hyperventilate at this request, at this horrific and unexpected request. He’d just ordered her to remove her shields, her flimsy bullet proof vests.

  “Call me when you’re ready,” he said, shutting the bathroom door.

  “Oh God,” she whispered, looking around. She thought to leave and never come back. Take your punishment, harlot. You wanted pleasure, now you’ll get it. Take your torture.

  Her hands trembled as she removed her clothes, one layer at a time. She took so long, she feared he’d open the door to check on her while she was half done. Grabbing the sheet, she shook it out and wrapped in it then quickly kicked the mountain of clothes into the corner, really wishing she could fold it all.

  She sat on the table and closed her eyes, performing her panic exercises. She was very practiced from dealing with the church and Daryl. God, that would be so easy compared to this. Her anger was her shield and rod at many of those times. She had none of that now.

  “Ready,” she called, her voice carrying like a mouse. “Ready,” she said louder.

  The door opened and she remained face forward, eyes on the floor.

  “Perfect,” he said, coming to the table. “Do you … always wear your hair up?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, nodding.

  “Can I take it down?”

  Her fearful gaze shot to his before she whispered, “A woman’s hair is her covering and must not be worn loose like a harlot.” Regret from that truth burned her chest and throat.