The Damaged Heroes Collection [Box Set #1: The Damaged Heroes Collection] (BookStrand Publishing Mainstream)

by James, Sandy

  When she’d been an adolescent, Joy didn’t want to stand out because of her surgeries. She chose shirts with high necklines to keep her mark hidden. The peace she now enjoyed had come from Janos. He had helped her learn to accept her appearance because he had so easily accepted the scar. His brotherly teasing brought some normalcy to the whole affair. It was, after all, just a scar. She didn’t parade it by wearing revealing shirts, but she didn’t struggle to hide it, either.

  Joy doubted if Lucas was even used to the way his scars looked yet, and she knew he needed to learn that the blemishes weren’t flaws. “These don’t change who you are deep down inside.” It would take time. Lots of time. But she hoped she could help him take those first baby steps toward accepting himself.

  The sleeve was tight, and Joy knew that she had pushed the material up as far as it could comfortably go. She decided to try another tack. Dropping his hand, she reached for the waistband of his worn jeans. Grabbing the shirt’s material where it was tucked into his pants, Joy began to tug the garment free.

  Lucas suddenly reached down to grab her wrists in hands as strong as steel vises. “Don’t.” The word came out as an agonized plea.

  Joy looked up into his eyes and tried to will her calm to him. “Trust me. Please?”

  His amber eyes reflected his fear. He took a hard swallow before he finally nodded.

  Joy pulled his shirt the rest of the way out of his waistband and slid her hands up his torso. There wasn’t an ounce of fat anywhere on the man. She could feel the tight muscles of his stomach and had to calm the frantic beating of her heart as her body instinctively responded to the feel of him. Slowly sliding her palms up to his chest, she could feel the crisp hair that covered his pecs and liked the way it teased her fingertips. “Lift your arms and lean forward, Lucas,” she coaxed. He obeyed.

  In one swift motion, she pulled the shirt from him. Willing herself to keep from reacting to what was revealed, Joy reached down to take his right hand into both of hers as she let her gaze wander over Lucas’s arm.

  Starting right above his bicep and extending all the way to his wrist were dozens of puckered scars. The jagged lines worked their way down his forearm with no distinct pattern. It looked as if someone had taken angry stabs at him. And there had been burns. Thick scars remained in their wake. There wasn’t much surface area that wasn’t affected, that wasn’t marked. The skin was pink and white compared to Lucas’s tanned hand. She carefully took her right hand and began to run her fingertips over his arm. “A fire?”

  “An explosion.”

  “Do they hurt you?”

  Lucas shook his head. “They took pretty good care of me after Brad and I... When I got hurt. I didn’t lose much muscle. I’ve got really good range of motion. At least that’s what the physical therapist told me.”

  “The scars will fade in time. They’ll never go away, but they’ll fade. As will the memories of how you got them. It’s up to you whether you let the scars rule your life.”

  That handsome mouth bowed into a frown. “They don’t rule my life.”

  “Then why were you wearing a long-sleeved shirt in this heat?”

  He seemed to consider what she said for a moment before he replied with a note of resignation, “Touché.”

  Lucas reached with his left hand and let his fingers trace Joy’s scar again. She wondered if he could feel the swift beat of her heart. Surely she wasn’t alone. She couldn’t be the only one feeling the delicious sensations when they touched. She couldn’t be the only one whose blood was boiling hot. She couldn’t be the only one whose body was tense, ready, begging for a loving caress. But his face had such a talent for being stoic, never showing Joy what she needed to know.

  “How long did it take you to get used to it?” he finally asked.

  “I suppose I never really had to.” Joy wondered if he could hear the huskiness in her voice that had nothing to do with her words. “It’s just always been there. Ever since I was little. What bothers me is when people see it and act...I don’t know...scared. Like if they see it, they’ll have a heart problem too.”

  Surely she wasn’t alone. Joy took a small step closer until their bodies almost touched, placed her hand over his, and pressed his palm to her chest. How could he not know how he affected her? How could he not know she yearned for him? Couldn’t he feel the sparks that flew when his skin met hers? “Does it bother you?”

  He looked confused. “The scar?”

  She nodded.

  “No. It doesn’t bother me.”

  “Then why are your hands shaking?”

  Lucas didn’t answer her question.

  “It’s all right, Szivem.”

  “What does that mean, Jozsa? You keep calling me Szivem. What does it mean?”

  She felt herself blush, but she stared up into his eyes and replied, “It’s Hungarian. It’s like saying ‘my love.’ The wind whispered that word to me the first time I saw you.” The gaze they shared was so intense, Joy was amazed the sensations weren’t visible, crackling between their bodies like lightning.

  Oh, yes. He feels it too.

  Lucas’s need of her suddenly rushed through her veins like lifeblood, and the fear and begging in his eyes tugged at her heart and soul. He wanted her. He needed her. And he would have her. Acceptance settled on her, giving her peace and courage.

  Lucas was hers. Always had been. Always would be. And she instinctively knew what he needed from her at that moment.

  In so many ways, Lucas needed to be welcomed home. Not to a building, not to a place. Home to himself, to his own heart. He needed to recognize he was still alive and still loved. He needed a connection.

  Joy wanted him to know her intentions and to understand her depth of emotion for him. He needed to feel her affection. She also knew his emotions were pulled as tight as the string of a bow and he desperately needed a release for the tension and pain he had buried so deep inside himself.

  A saucy smile formed on her lips as she decided the best way for him to find that release. With a gentle motion, she slid the palm he held to her scar over until it covered her breast. Standing on tiptoes, Joy stretched her other hand behind his head and pulled him toward her.

  Lucas resisted for a long, agonizing moment, making Joy’s heart clench in fear. Could she be that wrong? Could she really have been that mistaken? She was about to release her hold on him and mumble a half-hearted apology for being so forward when he suddenly wrapped both of his arms around her waist and jerked her roughly against him.

  His mouth covered hers in a kiss that was brutal, possessive, desperate. His fingers splayed across her bare back, pressing her to him. While she had anticipated a strong emotional response, the power of feeling Lucas brought to the kiss was more intense than she could have ever imagined.

  His need, his hunger dragged her very soul from her body as it flowed from her like blood from an open vein. Joy breathed life into him, restored his life with hers. Restored his soul with her own.

  Standing on the precipice of the world as she’d known it, of a world of order and comfort and predictability, her knees started shaking. Then, without a backward glance, she jumped.

  Lucas couldn’t form a coherent thought, save one. I’m alive. Still alive. His mind simply couldn’t find another idea or another word to grab onto. Alive.

  Another spark flickered in his brain. Another thought formed. He clung to it, trying not to drown in all of his fears and hurt, trying to find a lifeline to drag him from the depths of the pain that had made him feel dead to the world for far too long. Joy. She could save him, would save him. Joy is life. Joy is home.

  There was no control over his actions, no plans being formed. No seduction being plotted or planned. He just...needed. Just had to. Just Jozsa. All he could hold onto was her. She would bring him back to life. She would bring him home.

  Yes, kiss her. Kiss her again. God, how he loved kissing her. Blood raced through his veins. Each pound of his heart echoed in his ears. Sh
e tasted sweet, her tongue gliding across his. Her little feminine cries mixed with the low masculine growls that sounded so foreign that they couldn’t be coming from him.

  His hands moved of their own volition. He had to touch her. All of her. Joy didn’t resist, but he honestly wasn’t sure it would matter if she did. He needed her comfort, her warmth, her strength. Her life. Lucas needed to lose himself in her.

  A shoulder. An arm. A breast hidden by a garment that was soon thrown aside. Her hands covered his as he explored her body. A reassurance? An encouragement? A shared desire? Lucas wasn’t really sure, didn’t care as he knew he should have. He knew he would stop if she resisted, if she hesitated. But he thanked God she didn’t. He wanted to love every inch of that beautiful body with his hands, taste every inch with his lips, with his tongue. And he hadn’t asked, didn’t say any sweet words, didn’t try to coax her response. He just took and took and took.

  Don’t pull away from me. Oh, please, Jozsa, don’t leave me.

  He had picked her up, not remembering doing so, and carried her to his bed. No jeans. No more jeans. No more barriers. They were suddenly gone. Lucas tugged the black panties from her, jerked the clothes from his own body, desperate in his need. Skin to skin. Man to woman. So soft, so welcoming.

  Beautiful, round breasts. A flat stomach. A curving hip. A smooth thigh. And then her. Warm, wet, and welcoming to his frenzied touch as her body arched against him and moans fell from her lips. Home. Bring me home, Jozsa.

  Sweet aching desire throbbed inside him, drowning any logic, any resistance, anything but need. Deep. Visceral. Now. Now. Now. And then he was there, inside her.

  She gasped, tightening around him. Squeezing and tempting and coaxing. Her legs were riding his hips, beckoning, pulling him deeper. “Lucas. Oh, Lucas.”

  Rhythm. Movement. Life. Yes, Jozsa. Oh, yes. Please love me. Please let me love you. And the world exploded inside him in a shower of color and light and sound as he felt her nails scrape his back, felt the frantic beat of her heart as his cheek rested against her slim throat.

  He would have let go now, if he had been able to. Rolling to his side, he pulled her against him, needing to know she was close. He buried his fingers in her hair and closed his eyes.

  Alive. I’m alive.

  I love you, Jozsa.

  Joy felt him relax and recognized the steady rhythm of his breathing. How he could sleep was beyond her. She’d never known passion like they had shared even existed. Not even in love songs. Not even in sonnets. Lucas had wrung feelings from her body, from her heart, that were so intense and moving that they brought tears to her eyes. And he was able to fall asleep.

  She snuggled up closer, hoping to draw some strength from him, knowing now they had made love, she could no longer keep the rest of her world at bay. Not after the choice she had just made. And Joy knew it had been a choice, a very deliberate choice.

  There was no shame, nor were there regrets. No. No regrets. Lucas had needed her, had needed the comfort of her heart, and had needed the comfort of her body. But there was a profound sadness she hadn’t anticipated and a deep feeling of loss she hadn’t expected to be waiting at the end of the important journey.

  Her family would never forgive her. She’d broken the most sacred of rules. A gypsy woman was the bearer of the bloodline; she was never to sleep with a man other than her husband. Her mate. And her mate was supposed to be another gypsy. Always another gypsy.

  Why had fate chosen Lucas for her instead of one of her own?

  Her father might forgive the one time she’d been so young and stupid enough to let herself be charmed by Tamas. Her father would forgive that mistake because he wanted to see them married. But this? This he would never forgive.

  She felt the hot tears spilling down her cheeks. She never even had a chance to stop them. Joy quickly rolled to her other side to hide them from Lucas.

  Please, oh, please don’t wake up.

  She’d never be able to make him understand. In his slumber, Lucas instinctively moved with her and pulled her back to his chest as he bent his legs up to mold them to the back of hers. She tried to take comfort from his embrace, but she still had to choke back the sobs that wanted to wrack her body.

  How could she make her family understand? How could she convince her father that she wasn’t turning her back on her family or her heritage? She’d given Lucas what he needed, had shared her body with him, and had led him back to the world as she knew she should. Because he was her mate.

  But the cost she would have to pay would be high.

  As Lucas slept in his newfound peace of mind, Joy wept silently at his side.

  Chapter 12

  Joy was busily dressing when Lucas woke up. It hadn’t been a dream. He hadn’t imagined it. For the first time in a long, long time, he felt like...himself. Like he was Lucas Mitchell from Indiana who used to be a happy man once upon a time. God, was he grateful to her for giving him that gift, that wonderful, amazing, and loving gift.

  Judging from the shadows cast through the room, it was already late in the afternoon. He rolled to his side, propped himself up on an elbow, and watched her.

  Everything about her intrigued him, excited him. Hell, he was getting hard again just staring at her. “Where are you heading off to?” he finally asked. “I figured we could make something to eat.” Then we could make love again. “What time is it?”

  “It’s late. I need to get home. We slept most of the day away already.” She dropped her gaze to the floor, and Lucas realized she was troubled.

  “What is it, Joy?”

  “Papa is going to be furious,” she replied, drawing her lips into a thin line.

  “You don’t have to leave,” he said, having no idea how to help her. “Why don’t I get dressed and go with you?”

  “No!” she shouted back before calming herself. “No, you can’t. Not...not now.”

  Confusion ran unbridled through his thoughts. Joy never reacted to anything the way other women would. She was a riddle in many, many ways. He figured she would want to cuddle and hear the soft, affectionate words women usually wanted after making love. Heaven knew he sure wanted to hear some from her. But there she was, dressing in a hurry like some man who thought he’d made a huge mistake with a woman he wanted to discard right after sleeping with her.

  “I don’t want you to leave,” Lucas said before he could stop himself. Damn it all if he didn’t sound like some jilted woman, but he was suddenly terrified if he let her go, he might never see her again. He couldn’t let that happen now that he needed her so much. “Stay, Jozsa. Please stay.”

  Joy pulled her t-shirt over her head, apparently ignoring him. Then she started to look around wide-eyed. “Have you seen my sandals?”

  Lucas smiled. The woman was always losing her shoes. It was one of the traits he found so endearing. He pointed over to the pile of wood scraps where a sandal lay half-buried. She moved to grab it, shook off the sawdust, and then searched for the mate. When she finally located it next to a hole in the floor, Joy dropped both flip-flops, slipped them on, and walked over to the bed.

  She sat down next to Lucas and ran her fingers through her long hair, trying to remove the tangles. He sat up and reached out to help her with the task, loving the feel of those thick, silky curls. Then he ran his hands down her arms. He liked the fact that she shivered at his touch, and he was more than a little relieved to realize that her reaction meant she hadn’t cooled toward him.

  If that was the case, he decided he needed to try a little harder to find out what was making her run out of the door like a scalded cat. “Joy,” Lucas said as he leaned in to kiss her shoulder. “What’s wrong? Are you sorry?”

  She turned and stared at him like he had suddenly sprouted a third eye. “Sorry? Are you kidding me?”

  He shook his head.

  Joy let out a heavy sigh. She cupped his face with her palms and looked deeply into his eyes. “No, Lucas. I’m not sorry. Not...not about us. Stop wo
rrying.”

  “I’m not worried.” He realized it was a lie the second the words slipped from his lips. “It’s just this all happened so...fast. I don’t want you to think that I... I don’t know, took advantage of you or anything.”

  The smile that crossed her lips was naughty enough to make his heart skip a quick beat. “I stripped first. I put your hand on my breast. If anything, I took advantage of you.” Joy leaned in and captured his lips in a long, deep kiss. When she pulled away, she stated the obvious. “This is weird, isn’t it? I feel like we’ve got our roles all reversed.”

  “You too, huh? I keep thinking the same thing. You’re running out of here like guys do, and I’m sitting here like some girl, begging you to stay.”

  She smiled at him, and Lucas finally felt himself begin to relax. “I just need to get back. My family is going to be worried.”

  “I understand.” But he didn’t. She was an adult. Her family shouldn’t be concerned because she’d been gone a few hours. “When will I see you again?”

  Joy kissed him again and rose from the bed. “Soon. I promise.”

  Lucas reached out to grab her wrist. He didn’t know how to explain all the feelings tearing through him, didn’t know how he could ever let her know how desperately he needed the connection they’d shared. He didn’t know how he could let her leave.

  He had done nothing but sleepwalk through life since his discharge. He’d chosen to stay isolated and numb. Nothing made him happy, not really happy. Sure, he could play with his niece, work with the horses, and talk to his friends, but he didn’t feel like any of it was real. He’d feared that his heart and soul had been left behind—left in Iraq or buried in that cold, dark grave with Brad. If he stayed numb, Lucas didn’t have to think about the explosion and blame himself.