by Mary Martel
"Why does your butt hurt?" He asked curiously.
"Why do you think?" I snapped and was super proud of myself when I didn't wince at the pain it caused inside my mouth. That was more like it, pain and I, we went way back, and she was my reigning bff. “I fell off the bed because of you, and landed on my butt on this stupid hard floor that this stupid rug does absolutely nothing to soften the blow when you take a tumble out of bed and land on it. I should know, this isn't my first time. At least this time I didn't land on my face."
A strange noise escaped him, and he quickly raised his hand to cover his mouth in a tight fist. The action hadn't fooled me, I knew he was covering his laughter. I didn't think anything was funny, and I blamed him for everything.
"This isn't funny," I growled at him. The inside of my mouth only stung a little. "And, it's all your fault."
It absolutely was his fault. Who in their right mind wakes a person up like that? I would never do such a thing to someone else. Why would he have done that to me? It was absurd.
He released his fist and spread his hand out across his mouth and cheeks. I imagined him smoothing out his smile, trying to hide it from me. His eyes widened as he lowered his hand to rest atop his knee. I think he widened his eyes in another effort to keep from either smiling or laughing at me and angering me again.
"How's it all my fault?" He asked and, I had to admit, he truly sounded like he didn't understand. I didn't know how he couldn't get it, though. I mean, really?
"Tyson," I said his name slowly, as if I was seeking patience, which is exactly what I was doing, and I wanted him to understand every single word I had to say to him. "You woke me up, in the complete darkness might I add, by grabbing ahold of my feet and forcefully dragging me down my bed. It freaked me out and I fell off of the bed and when I landed, I bit the inside of my cheek and hurt my butt. I wouldn't have fallen out of the bed if you hadn't dragged me down to the bottom of it like that. I mean, seriously, why would you do something like that? That’s not normal behavior, and I can’t understand why you did it."
At the end, I was whisper shouting at him because I wasn't sure who else was in the house to hear me. Which was stupid because no one else had come running when I'd screamed bloody murder because of him. If there had been anyone else in the cottage they would have coming running to my rescue minutes ago. And they would have likely hit Tyson for freaking me out and scaring me like that. Which is probably the only reason he felt safe enough or stupid enough (depended on how you looked at it) to do what he'd done.
"I wasn't trying to hurt you," he told me earnestly. "I only wanted to get your attention. And part of it was because I was mad at you."
I sat back against the bed in a huff, resting my shoulders against it. Great, this was just great.
"Why ever in the world would you be mad at me? And why would you wake me up in such a way just because you were?" I asked in a quiet voice. I had to admit, I was bewildered and a little more than hurt by his actions and the fact that he didn't understand. He'd hurt me on accident because he'd been mad at me over something I didn't know.
He pressed both knees into the rug and crawled towards me on his knees. He pushed my legs further apart and kept coming at me from in between my legs. His knees hit the insides of my thighs and he spread his legs, spreading my thighs apart with them. When my legs were spread wide in a v, he dropped his ass to his heels and leaned forward, partially into me. His hands went under my thighs and he roughly shoved them back, reaching behind me. When his hands were underneath me he turned them over and cupped my butt. His fingers put pressure into my cheeks as he squeezed and lifted with his hands.
I let out another girly sound as he lifted me up, this one a quiet shriek, and I wasn't at all embarrassed by it. Only because I didn't have the time to be embarrassed. Tyson pushed his hard thighs underneath my soft, spread ones and he pulled my body closer to the heat of his. Our fronts pressed together. Chest to chest. Groin to groin. And I was suddenly a whole lot closer to him than I had ever been before.
"What are you doing?" I asked in a strangled voice.
I had forgotten that he'd scared the crap out of me and that the inside of my mouth and my bottom had been mildly injured and still hurt just a bit. I forgot everything but Tyson and his dark, dark eyes staring me in the face.
His fingers dug into my backside as he studied my face carefully.
"Did you do it?" He asked in a voice that held a soft thread of accusation. "Did you tell him about Annabell?"
I shook my head, confused, as I tried to clear my thoughts and tried to chase out the promise of the heat in his eyes that I had mistaken for something that I wanted it to be when it was something else entirely. Something I'd only experienced from Tyson the one time. There was anger in that heat, and it was all directed at me.
"What are you talking about?" I demanded to know. "Did I tell who what about her? Tyson, what is the matter with you? I haven't talked to anyone about that... woman. I thought we were working together on this. And, now you're acting like a crazy person. Why?"
Something had happened that I was unaware of. Something that had set him off, and he'd decided to take it out on me.
I didn't like it.
I leaned back, away from him, and put my hands in his chest. As much as I didn't want to be up close and personal with him when he was acting out one of his little anger episodes, I wasn't willing to deny my body what it really wanted in that moment, and that was to be pressed up close to him.
The closer I got to them, the more I was coming to realize I was beginning to crave their touch, a closeness to their bodies and the strange, magical heat they gave off. It was an addictive warmth, and, even mad at him, I wasn't sure I would ever be able to get enough of it.
This did not bode well for my future amongst them if they all gave off the same heat, and, I was sure they did.
He frowned at me. His hands left my bottom, and ever so slowly, slid up past my hips and then moved up my back. They stopped just under the sides of my breasts where he spread his fingers wide. He pressed in and held my upper body as close to his as it could get, with there being no space between us to even slide a piece of paper between our bodies. I was forced to tilt my head back at a painful angle to be able to continue to look him in his dark eyes.
One of his hands moved over to the middle of my back where he kept his fingers spread wide. the other one left my side as well to move further up my back, towards my neck. His long, wide spread fingers creeped up the back of my neck and slithered into my hair. He spilled his fingers into my hair and tangled them with my messy ash blonde strands.
He held me there, firmly in place, exactly where he wanted me to be, and his hold on my hair was tight enough that I knew it would hurt to try and pull my hair out of his grasp or move my head. He'd never shared this side of himself with me, and I had a brief moment to wonder if I should be frightened. Vivian The Imposter had had a firm hold when it had come to my hair. But I wasn't afraid of Tyson the way I'd been afraid of her. No, I wasn't afraid of Tyson, maybe I was just a little bit nervous though. Not because I was afraid he'd hurt me, it was more of a fearing of the unknown.
He leaned down until our noses almost touched and his eyes changed. What had been a dark anger before and bled to sadness and misery. I made a low, pained noise in the back of my throat because it hurt. All that sadness and misery swimming in the surface of his eyes hurt like a mother for me to stare into. When you cared about someone, truly cared, their pain was your pain. Just as their happiness was yours, as well. You laughed, carefree and bright in the face of their joy. You danced and cheered when they were happy, and you cried when they cried. For me, it was just that simple, and it was a part of myself that I was starting to embrace with open arms. It didn't make me weak to care so much about another human being that their emotions bled through to mine.
“Uncle Quint, Ariel.” He breathed out in a soft whisper that ghosted across my lips. “Did you tell him about Annabell? I kn
ow the two of you have a special bond, and I don’t begrudge either of you it, but I need to know that when you’re with me you’re actually with me, that when you promise me something you actually mean it. I need to know that I mean something to you too, at least enough for you to keep your damn word to me when you promise me something.”
I drew in a shuddering breath and tried to shake my head. His fingers loosened in my hair and slid down. They came free of my hair easily, and he cupped the back of my neck in his big palm.
I was no longer confused by his words, but I was now starting to get angry.
When I’d given him my word, I’d meant it. I didn’t appreciate how easily and fast he’d thought I had turned on him. Especially because not telling Quint was making me feel bad, like I was doing something wrong. Tyson had no right to question my loyalty.
Did he usually feel like I was off somewhere else in my head, with someone else when I was with him? How horrible.
“You know what, Tyson?” I asked in a cold voice that hid the hurt and anger I felt inside. Or, at least I hoped it hid it from him. Tyson didn’t miss much, so it was probably a lost cause. Then again, he didn’t usually act like this either, so maybe he’d miss it because, clearly, he was off his game.
“Screw you,” I said in that still cold voice. I turned my head to the side, no longer meeting his eyes and shoved at his shoulder. My voice might be able to hide my emotions, but I didn’t think my eyes would be up to the task. “You come in here, invade my space, act like a Neanderthal moron, and then you have the guts to accuse me of things I didn’t do when I’ve given you no reason whatsoever to doubt me in any way.”
I shook my head as tears started to pool in my eyes. Damn it and damn him. I would not cry. I was stronger than this.
“Ariel,” he whispered my name apologetically, and I knew he’d finally got it, that I hadn’t done what he’d thought I had, and knew he’d acted rashly for the wrong reasons.
“He got off the phone with you earlier and he’s been a crazy, mean asshole ever since.” He said, trying to explain.
“I hung up on him,” I muttered sullenly. “And he didn’t take it very well.”
“Look at me,” he demanded.
I pursed my lips as I shook my head, still too upset, too close to tears, to look him in the eyes just yet. I needed to reign in my emotions first.
“Ariel,” he said in a louder voice. “Fucking look at me.”
It was the tone of his voice, the steel that had threatened its way into it, that had me turning my head and looking at him against not only my will, but my better judgement.
He looked me in the eyes and winced.
“If you cry on me then I’m going to have to kick my own ass,” he told me.
I wasn’t going to cry. I’d gotten it together. Sort of. Okay, that was a lie. The truth was more along the lines of I’d buried it all under the surface enough so that I no longer felt the need to cry. My emotions did not rule me, and I would not cry. It was something I had learned with Vivian, and couldn’t believe I had started to forget her lessons already. It hadn’t been that long. I could still remember the sound of her voice, the smell of the perfume she liked to wear, the graceful way she walked in heels, and the horrible sound it made when the back of her hand connected with my face, or any part of my body, for that matter.
Suddenly cold, I shivered. Tyson mistook it for something it wasn’t, and his hand slipped around to the side of my neck where he traced my jaw line with the pad of his thumb.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “So damn sorry, Ariel girl. I was so angry thinking you’d turned on me that I acted out before I had the time to think things through.”
“What were you planning on doing if I’d told you that I had told Quinton everything?” I asked. This seemed like an important thing to know. Just how far had he been willing to take his anger?
His thumb stopped gliding across my jaw as his eyes bore down on me.
“I would have yelled at you, to be sure. I would have said unforgivable things that I would have immediately wanted to take back as soon as I walked away from you. Then I probably would have left here, gone straight to the motel where Annabell’s at, and done something horrible to her, because I blame her for this whole awful mess I’m in.”
I supposed that sounded slightly reasonable. If I’d thought he had turned me in I might have yelled at him, too. We were now partners in this, and partners stuck together.
“But did you have to manhandle me first?” I asked.
He ducked his head, hiding his eyes from me and his cheeks actually tinted red.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured in an embarrassed voice. “Even when I’m upset I can’t stop myself from wanting to touch you. Your skin is like a drug, and I fear it’s gotten worse because I’m upset and projecting my emotions left and right, I can’t seem to keep them to myself. The more upset I get, the more I seem to crave your touch, your heat, your magic calls out to me and touching you is the only way I can get close to it.”
I relaxed against him and shook my head, shaking away his hand from my jaw. His hand fell away in rejection and he looked up at me from half lidded eyes. I wasted a small smile on him before wrapping my arms around his back and burying my face in his neck. He wrapped me up in both his arms and held on to me tightly.
“You’re not mad?” He asked in a small voice.
I shook my head in his neck and immediately felt the tension go out of him.
“Did you really hang up on Uncle Quint?” he asked.
I nodded against his neck, that I had indeed hung up on his Uncle.
“You’re in big trouble now, girl.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. He was calling me girl again, and he no longer sounded upset or tired or any of the crappy things he’d been in the past couple of days any time I’d been around him. The smile was back in his voice, and it had been put there by me.
“Do you want to watch a movie with me downstairs while I wait for someone to show up so I can get a ride home?” he asked in a sweet voice.
I nodded against his neck again, but I was a little confused.
“Why would you need to wait on someone to give you a ride home?” I asked. “What happened to your Audi?”
“The Audi’s fine,” he told me. “It’s at home in the garage. I had your Range Rover, remember? I drove it over here. Even pissed, I was still smart enough to bring you your damn SUV back. I felt bad about having the thing when I should have just asked you to drop me back off at home, or had Dash drive me home. I don’t like the thought of you being out here without a vehicle even when someone is out here with you.”
I didn’t like being without a vehicle either. It stupidly made me feel safe, and I used it as one of my many security blankets. The last time something bad had happened, having a car hadn’t made the least bit of a difference. Neither did having a damn cell phone. There were some things you couldn’t prepare for, and tragedy often struck whether you were ready for or had the tools to see your way past it or not. Was it dumb to look out the window and be comforted by the sight of my SUV parked in the driveway? Probably. But it comforted me all the same, and I felt a little bit ashamed of myself for thinking it. I’d found my home, my place in the world, even if I hadn’t worked out all the messy details yet, so why did I still feel the need to check on my SUV and make sure I had an escape just in case I needed one?
The guys would be hurt if they knew how I felt. And I never, ever planned on telling them. If I ignored it, would it go away? Would the need to have an escape plan at the ready go away with time? I sure hoped so, but I think I needed bad things to stop happening every time I got comfortable first.
With Annabell on the loose, and Chucky hanging out with the Council, I didn’t see it happening anytime soon.
And that thought made me sad.
Chapter Seven
Tyson held my hand as we made our way down the stairs. Binx was absent, which was weird for me. The little furball hadn't
been in bed with me when I'd been so rudely awoken, either. I couldn't remember if Ty was one of the guys Binx liked or not. That cat was extremely picky when it came to who he shared his affections with, and a lot of the guys didn't make the very short list. But, where ever I was, even if someone he despised was by my side, the little guy was never far from me.
It was odd enough that I found myself asking, "Does Binx not like you or something?"
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and shot me a curious look. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "Everyone knows Binx only pretends to like people. He either fakes it with you or he's a little asshole to you."
That was a damn lie and I wanted to call him out on it, but didn't, because it wasn't important at the moment. Besides, I wasn't sure if he'd only said that to make himself feel better because maybe he was one of the guys that Binx didn't like. I know if that sweet little boy didn't like me it would probably break my poor, poor heart into a million little pieces. Maybe Tyson didn't like cats? He'd never said so before.
He shook his head as he pulled on my hand. We bypassed the dining room and headed in the direction of the kitchen. I followed along without protest because I was hungry, and I didn't have anything better going for me at the moment.
"But, have you seen him since you got here?" I asked.
We entered the kitchen and Tyson flipped the switch, turning on the light. My eyes roamed around the room, searching every available space I could see, looking for Binx. His food and water bowls were on the floor in front of the cupboards by the sink. He wasn't anywhere near them. The countertops were empty as well. I know, I know, I said countertops. Dash had lived alone for a very long time, and his only roommate had been his beloved little cat. He let Binx go wherever the hell Binx wanted to go. On the counter? Sure, that was alright with Dash. On the table? Sure, why not. The dining room table? That was okay, too. I had even found him in the sink in the bathroom once, he'd been sleeping in there. I always left him to it when I found him on or in places I didn't think a cat should have been because his owner didn't care and, as much as I wanted him to be mine, Binx didn't really belong to me.
