by Tisha Wilson
“Just hear me out.”
“No.”
“But all I’ll need is-”
“No.”
She had some trouble getting over the roots in the yard but managed to get to the truck in one piece.
“If you let me I could just-”
He picked her up and strapped her in to the truck before he looked at her again.
“No.”
He slammed the door closed before she could respond. They were nearly down the mountain before she opened her mouth to speak again.
“No,” he said again cutting her off.
“I need a-”
“No.”
“I just-”
“No.”
“Ramp.”
“No.”
He stopped on that last part and glanced at her. He turned onto the highway and she kept her mouth shut this time. He tried putting on his stone face but she saw it slip.
“A ramp?” he asked at last.
“If you’ll get me a few materials I can build a small moveable ramp. Then I could get my own glass of water if I needed it in the middle of the night,” she finally said.
“Oh,” was all he said and she wanted to laugh in his face.
They entered a small historic town filled with tourists here to hike the trails. He pulled in front of a small hardware store and then helped her into her chair. He was right. People eyed him as if he was about to jump on their backs and beat them up. It made her a little upset the way they acted towards him. If only they knew what he did to keep them all safe. She rolled herself ahead of him and entered the store. Yep. She definitely had Stockholm Syndrome. Here she was in the center of humanity and not only did she not have the inclination to run for help, she was mentally defending him as if he were Batman!
She quickly pointed out the things she would need. He added a new bathroom door and doorknob and a few other things to repair the damage that had been done to his house to the basket. He paid for the purchases. The dour faced man behind the counter looked as if he might pull out his shot gun and blast Braden should he make any trouble.
They exited the hardware store, dumped their purchases in the bed of the truck and then started towards the clothing stores. “You weren’t kidding Braden. You seem to have made the wrong impression on people around here.”
She stopped in front of a place that looked promising. He shrugged at her comment as he opened the door for her to precede him. She entered and wheeled her way towards the youngest female clerk she could find. This clothing was a little bit trendier than some of the places she had seen and the young girl with too much make up, too many earrings, and a megawatt smile greeted them happily.
“It is good ta see a smiling face around here,” Miranda commented happily.
“I know. This place can be a real drag some times, especially when the old heads think your being too outrageous or loud,” the girl said conspiratorially.
She looked like a dark haired Madonna with her skirt over fishnets, combat boots, and large garish hair bow to top it all off. She looked like she walked straight out of a nineteen eighties punk rock video.
“I love your gloves. They are badass,” she said as she lifted one of Miranda’s hands to look at the embroidery across the knuckles. “I would love to get my hands on some of these to sell in the store. Those hikers would kill for something like this.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Miranda said happily as she gestured towards Braden.
“I need you to help my friend here.”
He did not look at all happy to be in this store with the loud music blaring out on the large speakers mounted to the walls.
“Yeah. I see what you mean. That look went out with seventies rock. McJagur might still pull it off but he’s old, and you are way too young and way too hot to rock this,” she said as she flicked a piece of fluff on Braden’s fur coat. “Do you have a price range?”
“Do what you must but if you would, avoid shirts with logos that say I love anything,” he said seriously.
Miranda giggled and the clerk smiled brightly as she motioned another of the young ladies over. They began to pile clothes and then ushered Braden towards the fitting room. He sent a pleading look over his shoulder but Miranda only laughed and smiled.
After they finally shut Braden into the fitting room with a selected outfit, they waited. The new clerk admired Miranda’s gloves as well and asked where she got them. Miranda was just in the middle of explaining how she made them when Braden stepped out of the fitting room.
Her mouth watered at the sight of him. He had on a pair of low slung jeans that, even with his t-shirt, showed off his eight pack right down to his hip bones. A silver chain looped from his front pocket to the back which the black combat boots with silver buckles complimented. His T-shirt read ‘I hate everything… including you’. He looked down at the t-shirt and back up to her and her heart nearly stopped. He was smiling ear to ear at her and the girls beside her nearly swooned.
“I could learn to like this shirt,” he said approvingly, crossing his massive arms over his broad chest.
“So will every woman you walk past I’m sure. That might be good for hanging out around the house but…” She shook her head and made a face.
He nodded in agreement. “You’re right. I don’t think these pants would be good for crouching or fighting.”
“Are you into martial arts?” the young Madonna, whom Miranda had learned was called Gwen, asked. It was such an old name for someone so young and trendy, but people rarely got to choose their own names.
“You could say that,” he said slowly.
“Well then. That changes everything now doesn’t it.”
She and the other young woman, Windy, went off in search of more clothes. Miranda took a moment to look him up and down. He rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“Are you going to drool?” he teased.
“I might.”
“Well don’t. I couldn’t hide my holsters anywhere in this get up.”
“Still, it’s like telling someone to look at every thing on the David except for his…”
The girls returned, piled his arms, and shoved him back in just as he gave her a curious look. This time when he came back out she nodded in approval. He had traditional black BDU’s on and a black thermal shirt. He wore a clothe trench coat lined with some heavy material designed to keep the wearer warm. There was also a dyed black wool vest beneath the jacket and the black tie up combat boots. It worked for him.
“Now you look less like you just stepped out of a Viking long boat,” she teased and he cast her a warning glance.
The two girls giggled as they picked out varying shades of the pants and shirts and the t-shirt he insisted on keeping. He wore the clothes out of the store, leaving everything else besides his calfskin britches, and the under armor he kept on him at all times. People still looked at him because of his size, but not like he was about to punch their lights out and eat their children.
He nodded in approval as he helped her up into the truck. He then went to his side of the truck and started it up before looking at the sleeves of his new jacket. “It feels too light to be so warm,” he commented.
He rolled his eyes as he saw the warm look she was giving him. “Don’t,” he warned before he headed off towards the grocery store. He would never say she was right about the clothes, even if he did like them.
When they were on the way home from the store she chattered on at him about the merits of organic fruit versus not organic fruit and commented several times on their local grocer’s lack of variety. She was nervous again and he could guess why. The sun was going down. It would be dark when they got home. Nearly time to sleep. Then would come the morning. Despite her earlier bravado in the clothing store, she was now nervous.
It was hard for him to breathe when he thought about how much he wanted tomorrow to come. He tried to control his thoughts but they seemed to have gotten completely away from him lately. Clips of her w
rithing beneath him… of the taste of her, of her mouth, her breasts, her clit and deeper inside kept running through his mind as he looked at her at various times through the day. It was all he could do to string together more than two words around her.
It was suddenly very apparent to him how very long it had been since he’d had sex of any kind. He couldn’t even really bring it to mind other than to know he had done it. He had once been good at it, or so he read, and he supposed he couldn’t forget how things went. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and was shocked by himself yet again.
He was hard as stone. He was as hard as he could ever remember being and it was for her. The tiny ex-cheerleader who embroidered ‘smiles make me happy’ on her wheelchair gloves. This was bad. This could only end bad. He hoped that there was an e-mail from Bateman saying he was on the way to get her right now. One part of his brain told him that, but another part of his brain rebelled at the idea of anyone besides himself being there when she woke up in the morning and needed…
And he would be there, and this time, it was going to happen for real. He had done what he’d done this morning to give himself time to think, but tomorrow… Tomorrow made his mouth water. He wanted her and he would take her if she should offer him again. That simple.
* * *
They arrived to the cabin well after dark. Miranda was nearly ready to jump out of her skin at the thought of climbing in to that big bed with Braden. What would he do, strip off his shirt and wait for her bare chested? Did he have pajamas? Did he expect her to sleep naked? Did he expect to take her tonight just to get the deed done and then sleep on the couch again? Would that even work? Would she still wake up calling out to him and would they do it again?
She felt a rush of fear and… excitement at the thought. Braden was hands down the most gorgeous man she had ever seen in real life, but did he want her? Was he merely trying to avoid further damage to his house? Was he merely doing it because he could no more control what seemed to be pulling them together than she could? Of course that was what it was. Why would someone as attractive as he was really want to make love to a plain simple girl like herself?
Not only was she fairly plain, but she was also in a wheel chair, except when she was a hunter. Sure, she had been looking healthier lately, her hair was healthier, her hips and legs were fuller, her face was smoother, but at the end of the day she was still just a woman in a wheel chair. She still clipped coupons, she still wore lace and frill, she still loved pink and kittens, and she was still small town.
He was worldly. She could see some biker chick on his arm or at the very least a tall bleached blond supermodel. She felt small next to him, nearly insignificant. Except for this morning. This morning she had felt like the seductress.
She had felt irresistible to him and he had been drawn to her… weakened by her. It was something to be able to make a man like this lose control. It was a heady power and she didn’t really think that she would regret an encounter with him at all. In fact she might look back one day and be proud of herself for it. Still, when he came around to help her out of the cab and into her chair she felt her hands trembling and her heart racing.
She was about to start talking to him about The Copy Shop again when he halted and put a hand up for her to stop. He sniffed the air silently before he swung around and picked her back up. He took her to the truck and dumped her inside.
“Lock the door,” he commanded and she hurried to do what he said as he walked away from her towards the cabin.
Braden stepped inside the cabin and surveyed the damage. The first thing he noticed was the spray paint on the walls. It read ‘we know what you are.’ The paint was blood red, meant to look like blood, and ran in streaks down the wall to pool on the floor. He took a deep breath to calm himself. The television was smashed. His lap top was in pieces on the floor, his antique records were strewn about and two of the chairs at the table had the legs broken. Most of his dishes were broken and the refrigerator stood open.
His bagged blood had been torn open and spread around on the floor. The glass jars containing peaches and pears had been dashed on the floor and it was all generally a mess. He headed towards the bedroom and it had been tossed in a similar fashion. They had taken knives to the mattresses and left filling everywhere. The whole thing was very immature. Humans were odd creatures, destroying for the sake of destroying alone.
He sniffed the air again before he strode over to an overturned lamp. He took the small devise from the inside cover and looked at it. They were going to try and listen in on his house. He sniffed out three more devises before he took out his cell phone. Saul was on the way without a word of question. He stood back and looked at the spray painted wall again. It was time to move. These were obviously people who thought they had found some evil creature that needed destroying. He grabbed Miranda’s bag and then clicked the button to open his weaponry up.
He filled several more duffel bags before he made his way out to the truck. He loaded the duffels in the bed and waited for her to open the door for him. He got in and started it. As they drove back through the forest he opened the ashtray and pressed a little button. Miranda made a little frightened sound and ducked as the explosion filled the night with violent noise. She looked behind them at the flaming cabin.
“What happened… what about your stuff,” she asked frightened.
“The journals are crated and encased in cement beneath the floor. I may come back for them in a few years,” he replied without feeling.
“But… why?”
“Some humans were there. I come across them from time to time. They think they’ve found out about me or know something about me or our organization. They make it their personal crusade to expose us, drive us into the light, and kill us. They think we are evil. It just is part of the job. Do you have any type of identification you may have left in your bag that they might have seen?”
“No… but I’m pretty sure my sister’s military bag had her identifiers on the inside flap.”
He cursed himself silently. He hadn’t even thought of the sister’s things. All well. If anything came of it they would deal with it.
“Where will we go?”
“I have a secondary location an hour away. Saul will call me when he is sure that the area is safe.”
“Saul is good to have around in a tough spot,” she said as she sat back against the seat.
Braden felt something uncomfortable in his gut at her praises of Saul. True as her words were, he just didn’t like to hear her talking about him that way. They made it to the new location without incident and Saul along with two other men were waiting for them. Braden handed over the devices and Saul quickly pocketed them.
“We are still looking for them,” Saul said in way of greeting.
Miranda had to pause at the threshold. This place was a near exact copy of the cabin they had been in before except the drapes were mixed with burgundy instead of green. She looked up at Braden. Didn’t he say that he didn’t make a lot of money?
“I hope you find them so I don’t have to take care of this myself. If I have to get involved it won’t be pretty.”
Braden said it in such a calm and serine way that the threat was sort of creepy. Who said things like that in such a matter-of-fact way? Saul didn’t seem phased though as they followed her inside. She watched as Braden clicked the button on his chain and the floor opened up, an empty weapons rack lifting up out of the floor. The two agents standing near by moved to get the duffel bags out of the truck without having been asked.
Saul gave her an uncertain look. “Is she stable?”
“As far as I can tell she is not going to go through a complete change,” Braden said as he took a bag that one of the agents handed him. He moved towards the kitchen and began unloading groceries. Saul continued to eye her.
“She doesn’t drink blood?”
“No.”
“She eats regular food?”
Braden gave him a drool stare. “No she
eats monkey brains.”
The look on Saul’s face made her burst into full out laughter. “He’s teasing,” she said out loud as she wheeled herself forward. Braden stepped aside and handed her things to put into the fridge as the agents dumped more on the counter top and then went to loading the gun racks.
“Excuse me. Did you just make a joke? Oh my God. Senorita you are a goddess to get him to make a joke,” Saul said with a lopsided grin. He was tall and leaner than Braden, but still athletic looking.
“I know. I was shocked the first time he did it myself. He really has a good sense of humor,” she responded as she put the apples in the crisper. “Most days,” she amended.
“Lies,” Braden murmured to which Saul laughed out loud.
“If I knew all it would take to soften up old frost bite was a pretty woman I would have thrown one at him long ago.”
A warning grumble emanated from Braden and Saul just shook his head. Miranda felt her cheeks flush and turned quickly back to their chore. When she was finished she turned back to Saul.
“Would you like to have some coffee,” she asked.
“Aye Dios Mio. She has made you to buy coffee too. Truly,” Saul took her hand and fell before her as if stricken to his knees.
“That is enough. Don’t you need to be out there looking for whoever broke into my house,” Braden snapped as he pulled Miranda’s hand away from Saul’s. She felt the heat of his touch all the way up her arm before he reluctantly released her. At least she thought it was reluctance the way he hesitated, as if he wanted to hold on to her.
Saul’s eyebrows shot up as he rose to his feet again. “They will call me. I believe the lady asked me if I would like some coffee.”
Miranda felt amazed at the brazen way Saul pushed past Braden to pull out a pot to fill with water and begin boiling. She took the fresh bread they had bought and a knife and headed for the table. She pulled herself to a chair and began slicing the bread. Braden had asked her why she didn’t buy the sliced bread, but she had always enjoyed fresh baked bakery bread.
