Stygian

by Nashoda Rose

  Fuck. I had to get out of here before some ass was kicked, most likely mine, considering Keir and Jedrik together had the advantage.

  I briefly glanced again at Danni then disappeared into the darkness.

  JEDRIK’S ARM HOOKED AROUND my waist as he yanked me away from the living room window. He pulled me through the house then shoved me back against the wall in the foyer, arm locking across my chest like a safety bar on a roller coaster.

  Keir and Anstice came running down the stairs.

  The familiar fear of being trapped skipped across my skin and I shoved at Jedrik’s chest. “Jedrik, let go, damn it.”

  He lowered his arm, but his eyes were narrowed and fierce, the playfulness gone. “Don’t move.”

  I didn’t hear words pass between the two men, but it was as if they’d spoken when Jedrik gave Keir an abrupt nod, then ran out the front door. Keir took off through the living room into the kitchen and out the back door.

  “What the hell’s going on?” I rubbed my temple, trying to clear my mind from the fog of too many glasses of wine.

  Anstice shifted while staring down at her feet. “The . . . alarm.” I didn’t hear any alarm. “A silent alarm. The boys are checking it out. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  I noticed her hands intertwined in a rigid grip. “Don’t bullshit me, Anstice. What’s going on?”

  Anstice bit her lower lip and wouldn’t meet my eyes. “It’s nothing. Keir’s just being overprotective.”

  “Yeah, no shit, he always is, but that’s not what this is.” Anstice remained silent. “Fine, you’re not going to tell me . . . then I’ll find out for myself.” I strode to the front door, knowing full well Anstice would stop me before I opened it. We’d been best friends a long time and predicting one other’s actions was second nature.

  “Danni.” Anstice stepped forward, grabbed my hand and pulled me to a stop. “I . . . I can’t tell you. God, I want to. Please, you have to trust me.”

  I gaped. “What the hell are you talking about? It’s me. Pinkie swears, remember? We’ve never had secrets from one another in our entire lives.” I yanked away from her. “Tell me.”

  Anstice closed her eyes and, when she opened them again, I saw the tears in the rims. Shit, it was bad. Whatever she was hiding was big. Maybe Anstice had a stalker? Her ex-boyfriend, Richard? No, Richard was a coward. He wouldn’t be caught dead lurking around in the night; he’d send someone else to do his dirty work. Besides, he’d ruin his Armani suit.

  “Anstice?”

  The front door opened and Jedrik and Keir came in and stopped. God, why hadn’t I ever noticed how scary they looked? Tatted, muscled, tall, and definitely overbearing. They both appeared as if they could take down a swat team without even breathing hard.

  Intimidating or not, I wanted answers. “What’s going on? Who’s outside?”

  Keir’s scowl was like a feral wolf ready to pounce on its prey. I unconsciously took a step back, but kept my eyes fixated on him.

  “A guy from my past has returned recently to the area,” Keir said. “He’s wanted by . . . police.”

  “I knew it. You’re involved with drugs.” That was how he afforded this place. And the bastard was dragging Anstice down with him—over my dead body.

  It took me two steps to reach Keir’s unmovable six-foot-four stature. I raised my fist, intent on popping him one right between his eyes. How dare he put my friend’s life at risk with shit like this.

  My fist never made contact as Jedrik grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the stairs. “It’s not drugs, princess. Just some guy pissed at Keir.”

  I tried to pull out of his shackled grip as he continued talking, but my mind had already shut him out. I remembered the steel clamped around my wrists, being unable to move—strapped to a—

  The dead bolt clicked closed on the front door. I wrenched free of Jedrik and stumbled backward.

  Manacles.

  Click.

  My wrists.

  Click.

  My ankles.

  Click.

  Oh, God, I’d been tied down. A table. Cold. So cold. I rubbed my wrists where the scars were still visible.

  “Whoa, you okay, sugar?” Jedrik asked, coming toward me.

  Sugar. That word. He’d called me that.

  Bile rose as I continued to back away, arms outstretched to ward off Jedrik. I banged into the front door and felt behind me for the deadbolt. I cringed as it clicked again.

  Anstice took a step toward me, but Keir pulled her back to his side.

  I had to get the hell out of here. “I can’t . . . I have to . . . I can’t . . . breathe.” I turned and threw open the front door.

  The fresh air cut into me like a bucket of ice water. I took three deep breaths before darting out into the frigid air.

  I heard footsteps behind me and raced down the steps to my car. I tugged on the door handle, but it didn’t budge. It wouldn’t open. Christ, get me out of here. I used both hands, hauling on it.

  “Shit.” I slammed my fist down on the roof.

  The sound pulsated over and over, the click as it snapped around each wrist, each ankle. I’d been cold. Freezing. My back aching, spine digging into the table as a . . . God, why couldn’t I remember?

  “I’m sober. I’ll drive you,” Jedrik said, coming up behind me, passing me my shoes.

  I glanced down at my feet and realized I was standing barefoot in the light dusting of snow. I took the shoes and slipped them on.

  “Always wanted to give a Mini Cooper a whirl. Dying to do the Italian Job thing.” He placed my coat around my shoulders, then walked around to the passenger side and opened the door.

  “I . . . I . . . umm, yeah, that’d be good.” I gripped the edges of my coat closer to my body as I walked around the car and slid into the bucket seat.

  We remained silent for the first five minutes with just the purr of the engine as Jedrik shifted gears. The panic eased and the puzzling memories drifted back into the black void of my mind.

  “So, you ever do anything fun with this car?” Jedrik asked.

  I stared out the windshield. “I drove through a park once to get out of a traffic jam.”

  Jedrik’s brows rose. “Impressive.”

  Silence.

  I knew Jedrik was trying to give me space to catch my breath and I was realizing the guy wasn’t always a dick. His outward I-am-God’s-gift-to-women was a game, maybe it was his way to get attention?

  “Thank you. For driving me. I’ll give you money for a cab, or just take my car. I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”

  “Think I’ll steal your car. It rocks.” Jedrik flashed a dazzling grin.

  I smiled. “You’re an okay guy despite the annoying habit of sharing food across the table.”

  “Too forward?” Jedrik grinned.

  “Disgusting when you’re talking mashed potatoes. Stick to desserts.”

  Jedrik chuckled. “Advice taken.” He turned down Bathurst Street and shifted into third gear. “Wanna talk about it?”

  Did I? Maybe I needed to talk to someone about the flashes of memories. Someone like Jedrik, who was . . . easygoing. Anstice avoided the subject as if it was a disease, and the therapist had been way too intense for me.

  “Manacles, maybe handcuffs, I don’t know which. I remember the sound of them clicking closed.” I rubbed my wrists. “Certain sounds or smells give me flashes. Like clips of a movie . . . I feel like I’m back there again.” I put my hand on my throat. “I had puncture marks on my neck, but the doctors don’t know what caused them. You know, sometimes I thank God I can’t remember exactly what happened.” I paused, rubbing my hands up and down my thighs. “But I think it’s worse. How can I get over something when I don’t know what that something is? Doctors, nurses, the police . . . they’re all guessing, but the guy has never been caught and I can’t remember shit. It’s frustrating.” I sighed, briefly closing my eyes. “It’s like a blanket is smothering me all the time until a memory flashes. Then the
blanket is whipped off and I’m wrapped in fear. I think the only way to get over this is to remember.”

  He shifted into second gear; the corners of his lips pursed together. He pulled up in front of my art gallery on Queen Street and put on the parking brake before turning toward me. “I won’t try to give advice that’s a bunch of bullshit. But I’m a first-rate listener and damn good at being there when you need someone. Maybe that’s what you need. Just someone to vent to.” He smirked. “And I’m one hot guy to hang with.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be modest or anything.” He shrugged. “Try to keep my car on all fours. I’ve already had three speeding tickets this year.”

  I went to get out of the car when Jedrik snagged my sleeve. “Hey, you need company tonight? I like the couch.”

  “No. But thanks. As soon as my head hits the pillow, I’ll be out like a light.”

  “So Tuesday? Pool, beer, and wings?” Jedrik called out before I slammed the door.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Jedrik waited until I was inside before he drove away. I closed and locked the door, then tossed my jacket and purse on the hook.

  Solitude. No sounds. No smells.

  I pressed my fingers to my temple as a wave of pain hit my head. Nice. Another night of debilitating throbbing. Headaches were a common occurrence after a flashback and Advil had become my best friend.

  “Little one.”

  My stomach dropped as the familiar voice broke through the quiet. God, that sounded real. Now I was dreaming while awake.

  I slid down the length of the door until my butt hit the floor and pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. I was officially going crazy and needed medication—lots of it.

  “Jesus, Danni.”

  “Holy shit.” That was real. I know it was. I raised my head, eyes scanning the darkened gallery. Someone was here. He was here. He said my name.

  I scrambled to my feet and slid my arm along the wall searching for the light switch while I kept my gaze fixed forward to where the voice came from.

  I sensed him, heard him breathe in and out, tasted his scent on the tip of my tongue—earth.

  But nothing prepared me for the shadow moving across the room. Paralysis was possible when completely freaked out and my legs refused to listen to my mind telling me to run like hell.

  Steady footsteps strode across the hardwood floor. He was still hidden by the darkness of the gallery, but I knew it was him. The guy with the eyes that drooped in the corners, lashes curving upward at the tips to give the impression of gentleness. The green surrounding the black pupil bold and bright, a mixture of lime and the greenest leaves in the middle of the rainforest.

  If I closed my eyes, I could see inside them, the haunting rage and sorrow churning together to emit an unrestrained expression. He existed inside me, a part of the blood that rushed like a river through every vein, every vessel.

  He stepped into the moonlight that glistened through the front window. I gasped as those vivid green eyes penetrated me with intensity. My heart skipped a beat and then . . . then it was an overwhelming relief that draped across my mind. It was a comfort I hadn’t experienced in two years.

  My arm dropped to my side, lights forgotten, as I stared at the man from my paintings. He stopped a few steps in front of me, his over six-foot height and broad muscled shoulders like a barricade preventing me from any thought of escape. But I wouldn’t escape. No, I’d been desperate for answers about this man for two long, tortured years.

  “Who are you?” I licked my lips to moisten the dryness and his eyes followed the movement.

  My insides coiled like a jack-in-the-box ready to spring free with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness, uncertain whether he was going to leap on me and shred me to bits, or take me in his arms and soothe away all the hurt with a single touch. I prayed for the latter, but I doubted this guy had any sweetness in his mind right now. His eyes were hard and unyielding yet . . . yet there was a hint of haunted anguish.

  My hands ached to reach forward and stroke every crevice on his face, then sift through his hair and touch the dark walnut strands. I inhaled and his earthly scent caused tremors to sprint across my skin.

  Hair? Dry hair? No, it should be wet. I always painted him with wet hair, and yet tonight, it was dry.

  “No, this is wrong.” I shook my head back and forth. I was going crazy; he wasn’t standing in front of me. I had to be imagining him. Holy crap, they’d put me in an insane asylum if I ever told anyone I’d seen the man in my paintings.

  “Danni.” His husky voice sent a shot of electricity through my body.

  “You know my name.” My nickname.

  “Yeah,” he whispered in a ragged tone.

  Oh, God, it felt as if he’d just run his hands over me and my body quivered with desire. I had to pull my shit together. “Tell me why I know you.”

  His eyelids closed over his beautiful, magnetic eyes and his brows drew over them. With his lips pulled together in a tight line, he looked like he was scowling, yet I felt sorrow emanating from him.

  His head lowered and he turned away, but not before I caught sight of one glistening tear as it escaped and slid down his cheek.

  My heart broke into tiny fragments, a crushing pain so controlling I had no choice but to touch him. I reached out, fingers curling into his coat. My breath hitched as heat shot through me, warmth surging and causing my cheeks to burn. It was strange, as if the encompassing warmth made me feel . . . safe.

  “Not a good idea to touch me,” he said, but he remained still.

  I didn’t let go. I needed from him what no one else could give me. “Please. Tell me.”

  I was afraid he’d walk away, leave me again like he’d done before. Even if I had no recollection of the memory, I knew he’d left me. But whether it was my choice or his, I had no idea.

  He swung around in one fluid motion, his arm hooking my waist and dragging me up against him. My breath hitched as he stared at me, one hand splayed across my lower back, the other reaching up to cup my chin and tilt my head up to meet his eyes.

  “I’ve tried, Danni. Fuck, I’ve tried to stay away.” His voice was torn and uneven. “But I had to see you before . . .” He nodded to my easel with the painting of him. “This shit . . . damn it, you have to stop. You have to forget me.”

  My mind screamed no, because I’d never forget him. I didn’t know who he was or why he was here. Maybe it was Stockholm syndrome and he’d been the one to abduct me.

  His voice changed to a rough growl. “Fuck, no, I’d never hurt you.”

  Had I said that out loud? Shit, I was losing it. The man from my painting I’d been obsessing over was standing in my gallery and could hear my thoughts. Maybe I was passed out from all the wine and this was a dream.

  His thumb stroked across the cleft in my chin as if it was natural and he was unaware he was doing it at all. My abdomen tightened and my knees weakened as I reached up to touch his face. I wasn’t scared of him. Regardless of what may have happened, this man was my safe place.

  Wetness clung to his cheekbone and I had the urge to kiss it, sweep my tongue across his skin and taste him. Why? Why was this man driving me insane with these emotions? What had happened between us two years ago?

  His head lowered, his gaze delving into mine. “I can’t stop this.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about, but I did know that I wanted him. “Kiss me.” It was a hint of a ragged whisper, but I knew he heard it by the way his hand at the small of my back pressed into me harder. God, I wanted him to kiss me. Touch me. Make me feel alive again. The realization I desired a guy hit me like a tidal wave crashing against rocks.

  This man.

  It was him.

  He was the key and, yes, the lock. Because he could lock me to him just with his eyes.

  He pulled me closer so I was snug against his broad chest. I felt his heart skip a beat and then take on the same rhythm as my own.

  I ti
lted my head back and looked up at him.

  Our eyes clashed, and then his mouth slammed down on mine.

  UNCONTROLLED. THAT WAS HOW I felt with this woman.

  I’d denied it for two fuckin’ horrible years, but having her in my arms . . . Jesus, the need to have her was like an inferno that was impossible to extinguish. It was so overpowering that it was unnatural. It wasn’t normal, and yet, at this moment, nothing mattered except kissing her.

  Her lips plied easily beneath my demanding assault, opening to my tongue as I tasted what was mine. Her. This woman. I wanted to say fuck them all and take her away. Run.

  But that wasn’t the answer. They’d eventually hunt me down and I’d never risk her getting hurt.

  I’d tried, since the day I walked away, to forget her eyes, those fierce, resolute, cinnamon eyes that had turned into ones of torment. Every time I closed my own, I pictured her; this free spirit who’d once soared with the birds but now was ensnared in a deadly trap of her abduction. I needed to free her.

  She parted my coat and laid her palms on my chest. My cock jerked and I groaned. I wanted to strip her naked and fuck her hard against the wall until she screamed my name. But that could never happen. I was dangerous; shit, I shouldn’t even be here.

  Her tongue boldly swept into my mouth, and my insides erupted with an unrestrained possession. My hand pushed on the small of her back, needing to feel her tighter against me; it was never going to be enough, as if I were drowning, sucked into an abyss.

  Without this woman, I was nothing.

  Any common sense blew up like a stick of dynamite the moment he pulled me into his arms. His hard, demanding mouth, made my senses overflow with him, the touch of his velvet tongue, the feel of his heartbeat beneath my palm, the urgency as he crushed me to him. It was an assault driven by a powerful need.

  His kiss moved down my chin to the arch of my neck and I tilted my head back, eyes closed, afraid to open them and discover this was all a dream. A wine-induced dream.

  “Danni,” he whispered against my ear. His tongue flicked across the lobe, sending shots of desire between my legs.