by Maggie Ryan
“Ha, ha, very funny.”
“That was a really nice dinner. I like them. Your family.”
Stryder nodded and walked to where an oversized armchair sat in a corner of the room and sat down. “They have their moments.”
She walked over to join him and sat on the edge of the bed across from him. “Your father allowed me to make a call on some special phone?”
“We use what are called burner phones for certain calls. Basically untraceable.” He paused and then asked gently, “So, did you speak with your family?”
“I did… they were glad to hear that I made it safely to Moscow. I-I didn’t tell them much as I had to fight not to cry, but they just believe I am a bit homesick.” She looked up, her eyes shimmering and yet she smiled. “Thank you. I needed to hear their voices.”
“You’re welcome. When this is all over, you can speak to them again.”
She nodded and changed the subject. “Oh, and Adira showed me around the ranch after you left, so you don’t have to worry about doing so.” She fiddled with her hands in her lap. “The place is lovely. Is it true that you, your brothers and your father built the ranch yourselves?”
He nodded. “Labor of love.”
“It’s obvious. I’ve never seen such a pretty home. And the land…” She looked down at her feet, nervousness was clear in her actions. “But like I said, Adira showed me the place, so you didn’t have to return tonight.”
“That’s not why I’m here,” Stryder admitted.
“Your father said after you left that we wouldn’t get to work until tomorrow. He said we all needed our rest.”
“That’s not why I’m here, either.”
“Then why are you?” She swallowed hard. Was he scaring her? He would never do so on purpose, but he knew softness was not one of his finest qualities.
“I’m going to sleep with you tonight.”
“Wh-what? You want to sleep with me tonight?” The tiny motions of her fingers playing with her nightgown ceased, and the delicate flesh on her lovely cheekbones pinkened.
“Yes. I don’t want to leave you alone.” He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “It’s my job to keep you safe. I don’t take that mission lightly. I know you are safe under this roof. We have the best security a man can buy, but I would still feel better if I am with you at all times to protect you. It’s how I do things.”
“You want to stay in my room to protect me?”
“Yes. Does that bother you? I’ll sleep in this chair, and you won’t even know I am here. But you’ve been through a lot, and I don’t think you should be alone.” He had seen this before with other women they had saved in the past. Nightmares, screams in the middle of the night, crying heard throughout the quiet hallways of the house. He wouldn’t allow that to happen for Zoya. She had already suffered more than any woman should. If him sleeping nearby could help prevent any of those things from happening, then he would make this chair his permanent bed until the day she left the ranch.
“Yes, I mean no, I mean…” She took a deep breath. “Yes, you can stay in my room tonight.”
He wasn’t really asking, and would have stayed regardless, but it certainly made it easier that she agreed to having him room with her. She paused for a moment but then pulled down the down comforter of her bed and crawled between the sheets. She was surrounded in white as though she lay engulfed in fluffy clouds. Fitting of the angel she was.
She leaned over and clicked the light off that rested on the nightstand, casting them in darkness. “Goodnight, Stryder.”
“Goodnight, Zoya.” He twisted and turned his body to find the most comfortable way to sleep in the chair. Thankfully, he was exhausted, and by the weight of his eyelids, he knew it wouldn’t be long before he completely passed out, no matter what type of furniture he was sleeping on.
“Stryder?” he heard her small voice ask from the dark room.
“Yes?”
“How long will I be scared? Of Poplov? Of the rest of those men? Of everyone and everything?”
His heart shattered. He felt physical pain when he heard the tremor in her voice as she asked such a truthful and vulnerable question. He wanted to jump up, crawl into bed with her, and hold her tight, rocking her to sleep. God, he wanted to take away her pain, her fear, her awful memories.
“I don’t know. But it’s my job to make sure that you are safe. I’ll die trying to take away your fear, and I will never leave your side until the day you look me in the eye and tell me you feel safe. Truly safe.”
“It sounds like you take your job seriously.”
“I do.”
The room went silent again, and just as Stryder was assuming that Zoya had fallen asleep, she asked, “Are you comfortable?”
“Yes.”
“Are you lying?”
“Maybe.”
“Would you like to sleep in the bed with me?” He heard shuffling and movement in the bed as she made room for him. “It’s large enough for the two of us.”
“It’s okay. I’m fine.” He didn’t want to scare her off. He knew that it was common for saves to panic and suddenly try to flee. Zoya seemed okay now, but he needed to tread lightly.
“Okay,” was her only response.
Another few minutes passed and he heard her soft voice cut across the darkened room again. “Will you hold me?” There was a long pause. “I’m scared, Stryder. And I could really use a hug.”
He thought his heart had shattered before when she showed her vulnerability. But nothing compared to what he felt now. Hell yes, he would hold her. Not only would he hold her, he would never let her go.
Silently, he got up and moved to the bed. “Yes, I’ll hold you for as long as you want.”
When he lay down, he didn’t have to make the first move. Zoya instantly scooted toward him and snuggled her warm body up against his as she burrowed her face into his chest. Wrapping his arms securely around her, he whispered, “You’re safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“I know.”
“Goodnight, Zoya.”
“Goodnight. Thank you.”
Chapter 10
Though she hadn’t known what to think when he’d made his announcement that he intended to sleep with her, the moment he’d slid into the bed beside her, she’d known that this was exactly what she needed. She pressed her face into the soft cotton of his t-shirt and inhaled deeply. This was why she hadn’t worn the gown that she’d found lying at the end of the bed on the plane. Intellectually, she knew it didn’t make sense, but the mere smell of him—soap, some sort of spice and an earthy essence—all combined to make a unique scent, one that was Stryder’s alone. One that calmed her with each breath.
She smiled as she remembered being a little girl and so excited when her father brought home a puppy. She’d named him Mr. Wiggles because he wiggled all the time, his tail and hind end constantly whipping back and forth. She’d spent the rest of the evening playing with him. When it was time for her to go to sleep, she’d attempted to sneak the puppy into her bed only to have her father tell her that dogs needed to sleep in the main part of the house. It was Mr. Wiggles’s job to guard the family.
While she could understand, and felt proud that her puppy had such an important job, she’d lain in bed hearing the poor little thing whine and cry until she was holding back tears, wanting so desperately to obey her father and yet her heart just ached at the puppy’s cries. When her door had opened and her father entered, she’d not known what to think but had been terrified that he was upset.
“Papa, please don’t give him back—”
“Nyet, kotyonok,” he’d said, coming to her bed. “Where is the blouse you were wearing?”
She’d climbed from her bed, retrieving the garment from the chair where she’d dropped it and had taken it to him. Evidently, her expression showed her confusion because he took it and smiled, explaining that it contained her scent and that would comfort Mr. Wiggles even though she wouldn’t be actually h
olding him. He’d taken her hand and led her to the box they’d prepared as the puppy’s bed. Mr. Wiggles was on his hind legs, whimpering and trembling. As she knelt beside the box, petting his head, her father had laid the blouse over the towel her mother had put in the box. After a final pat on his head and a softly uttered assurance that she’d play with him soon, she’d allowed her father to help her stand. Though the dog whined a few minutes longer, it wasn’t long before he dropped down out of sight and they heard some shuffling noise. A few minutes later, she almost giggled when she heard what sounded suspiciously like a snore. Her father had led her back to bed and tucked her in and this time, she couldn’t stifle her laugh, asking the man who had always been her hero if he thought it strange that it took a blouse belonging to his “kitten” to calm her new puppy.
He’d laughed with her, explained that it wasn’t strange at all as every living thing needed comfort at times. After he’d kissed her good night, she’d fallen into sleep, the house quiet. Now, with her hand splayed across Stryder’s chest, her fingers tapping and stroking, she truly understood what her father had meant. The fear she’d felt begin to consume her once she was in her room, alone, was seeping away, replaced by gratefulness that this man and his entire family were evidently the same sort of people as her papa… making it their mission to help and comfort those who needed it the most.
“I promise you are safe, Zoya. There’s no need to cry.” The words were softly said, accompanied by a soft stroking of his palm against her back.
Shifting her head to look up at Stryder, she found a softness in his eyes, illuminated by the moonlight shining in through the window, which she’d not seen since the moment he’d stepped into the shower to do nothing more than comfort her. “I wasn’t—crying, I mean.”
“No? Well, that’s good. I didn’t mean to wake you—”
“You didn’t. I wasn’t asleep.” Curiosity had her asking, “Why did you think I was crying?”
“You were sniffing and… sort of slapping at me. I thought maybe you were dropping into a nightmare.”
She felt her face heat and ducked her head to see that her palm was still splayed over his chest, though her fingers had stilled. Understanding had her shifting back but discovering that he obviously had no intention of letting her go far.
“It’s all right. You have every right to cry, to try to get away from that nightmare.” When she didn’t speak, only gave a little moan, he was the next one to shift. Releasing her, he pushed up to sit against the headboard, tugging her up as well. “Talk to me.”
What was she supposed to say? That unlike him and his family, she wasn’t brave? That while she had shed an ocean of tears while being held captive, she’d not fought… not even the tiniest amount? That all it had taken was witnessing what happened to one of the women… to see her being dragged from the room, to hear her screams and then her begging, to know that she wouldn’t dare make a move against any one of the men, or even the woman who were constantly in and out of their room. Where she’d been able to push the memory away once he’d lain down beside her, held her, now that he was looking down at her, his eyes concerned, she wondered how his expression would change when he discovered that she was a coward.
“I-I didn’t fight,” she said. “I was too scared.” Her confession had the tears he thought he’d heard welling in her eyes. “I should have. I just-just let them do whatever. I’m nothing but a coward.”
“Bullshit,” he said instantly, pulling her to sit not beside him, but on his lap. “You were a survivor, Zoya. Any woman taken would be terrified… hell, most men would have been as well.”
“Not Sophia, she fought.”
“And did it do any good?” he asked, stroking against her arm. “Did her resistance set her free?”
“No, they took her away and all we could hear was the screaming. It-it was awful and when she finally was brought back, the guard was… was slapping this thick cane against his leg and asking if anyone else had something to say. He said that he’d be glad to show us what happened to bitches who didn’t know their place. Said that if we didn’t want to sell to the-the worst men, the ones who didn’t mind sloppy seconds, then we’d better follow every order given. No one said a word. She was the only one who tried to fight. Maybe if instead of being a coward… maybe if we’d all joined together and tried—”
“You all would have been beaten or worse,” Stryder said, cutting her off. “Zoya, you and the others weren’t the first women stolen from their lives and sold into slavery. Human trafficking has been going on since time began. I promise, you aren’t a coward. You are a survivor. A survivor who will do your fighting with your art, with sharing your memories of what happened with us even though all you want to do is forget.”
She remained silent for several minutes, her mind churning as she tried to accept his words. Could what she drew, what she shared, really help bring down Poplov? If what Stryder said was true, the man had to be not only evil, but had the ability to find other men just as evil. There had been women from many nationalities in that room with her, so Poplov apparently didn’t even worry about authorities from other countries. Anyone who could steal and then sell a human being without worry of being arrested was someone who had power. Sitting a bit straighter, she turned her eyes back to his and made her decision. No matter what he said, she knew she’d never be all right, not completely, if she didn’t do everything she could. She’d never be a coward again.
“I won’t forget—not until that man and the others are in prison—or better, dead. I will not forget until the women he took are free.” She paused, his arms tightening around her, giving her the strength to say, “You must promise me something.”
“I have already promised that we’ll get him—”
“No, not that,” she interrupted. “Promise me that if I start to falter, if I try to forget, to run… you won’t let me. If you do, then no matter what happens to me, I will never be truly all right. Will you promise me that?”
The fact that he didn’t instantly agree didn’t upset her. She hadn’t spent that much time with this man and yet had already learned that he didn’t tend to give false promises or issue useless platitudes. He took his time to consider, and when he did speak, she knew that he meant what he said.
“I promise,” he finally said, giving a nod of his head. “But you must promise me something as well.”
“Whatever it is, I promise,” she said, not taking even a moment to consider.
He grinned and she was a bit startled when she felt the hand that had been stroking her arm move to pat against her ass. “Just know that my methods of making sure you keep your promise to yourself might not be the ones you are expecting.”
“What… what do you mean?” The press of his fingers against her rear instantly brought forth the memory of the startling swat he’d given her before dinner. Her slight wiggle did nothing but have his fingers closing to give her flesh a squeeze and her to give a little gasp.
“I think you know,” he said, his eyebrow quirking and her heart skipping a beat when it did. “I’m not one to waste a lot of time on dialogue. I believe the quickest way to remind you will be my hand against your ass… your bare ass.” She gasped, and she felt her cheeks heat again and yet he simply grinned, removed his hand from her buttock and gave her a hug. “Not only the quickest, but the most efficient as well. Still wanna make that promise?”
“Ye…” she began, the word incomplete until she cleared her throat and tried again. “Yes, yes, I promise.”
“Good.” When his head bent, she lifted her face, and when his lips touched hers, she felt as if the room tilted upside down. Before she could consider what his kiss might mean, he’d pulled back, leaving her feeling… alone, yet he was still holding her. “All right now?” he asked.
She could only nod, her ability to speak gone, though she definitely wanted to protest when he slid her from his lap. As he settled her to lie down, curling up—behind her this time—her bottom nestl
ed in the warmth of his crotch, she felt another wave of heat rush through her. She’d thought the kiss had only affected her and yet, she could feel the hard length of him against the crack of her bottom. Thoughts raced through her head. He was aroused and he was her… owner… her Master… and yet, once again, he was not taking advantage of either of those facts. His arms held her, she could feel his warm breath against her neck. She didn’t know what to do, what to say except to voice the question that pulled at her heart.
“Stryder?”
“Hmmm?”
“Do you… um, sleep with all your saves?” He didn’t answer for a moment, and she could have kicked herself for asking such a rude question. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business. I-I’m just glad you are with me—that’s all.”
“I’m glad as well,” he said. “Get some sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.” He gave a low chuckle and a tighter squeeze. “Unless, of course, you’re anxious to see what happens when I need to remind you of that promise.”
Not truly surprised to feel her bottom clench, she was surprised to feel her pussy spasm. She should not feel this way, should not have to fight the almost irrepressible desire to turn in his arms and ask him to make love to her. Yet, that was exactly what she had to do. She wasn’t one to initiate anything, not one to take charge. And she knew in her heart of hearts that if she did… and if he refused her, she would somehow break. It wouldn’t be fair to the women she so desperately wanted to help, nor would it be fair to him. Yes, he’d saved her. Yes, he owned her. Yes, she was positive she’d felt his erection. But… and that was the important word… but, he hadn’t done more than press his lips to hers gently, not in any way demanding, but to offer comfort to a woman he’d thought was sniffling in tears, not knowing she’d been inhaling his very essence. A woman he’d thought was slapping her captors—not knowing she been absently stroking his chest, wishing she could touch his bare flesh.
