Hearts Collide

by Masters, Ellie

  “You waited too long. High tide brings the water to the base of the cliffs here. That was very dangerous.” His fingers tightened around her much smaller hand. “Nothing is worth putting yourself in danger like that.”

  He almost pulled her into a hug, but stopped at the hard grip on her hand. An unwavering presence, he stood head and shoulders above her, a protector of sorts, and turned with her to gaze out to sea.

  She should pull away, rip her pixie hand out of his grip, but she basked in the moment. She’d never had a man hold her hand who wasn’t also making her do something loathsome.

  As much as Bent grated on her nerves, he’d never once forced himself on her. With plenty of women willing to jump into his bed, he didn’t need to waste the energy enticing her into it.

  That was both a good thing and a sad thing. If a spark hadn’t ignited yet it never would, but she was good with that. She’d settle for a little friendship, and they might get there one day. For now, Bent remained nothing more than a frustrating client.

  Bentley

  Bent

  Piper’s tiny palm fit well cupped inside Bent’s much larger hand. Her delicate fingers intertwined with his, forming a perfect match. Her grip was firm enough to let him know she was there. She didn’t try to fight him or power through a contest of who was in charge. Nor did she hang limp and lifeless in his grip, like she didn’t want to be there. Warmth surged between them, and for a moment he considered what it would be like to wrap Piper in his arms and finally taste her pouty lips.

  A seabird squawked. Piper jumped and the moment dissipated on the swirl of the salty sea breeze. She tugged out of his grip and dipped her head to look away, pretty much at anything but him. He lost the moment before it had ever really begun.

  Her attention swung back to the area they’d vacated. The small channel of water they’d crossed now raged with a torrent of water. A subtle shift in her posture had him stepping close. Her normally rigid spine loosened. Her proud shoulders drooped. Her head tipped forward. The poor thing looked as if she’d lost something precious. She was hurting and he didn’t know why.

  It couldn’t be the pen. Nobody cared that much about a damn pen.

  The urge to wrap her in his arms overcame him. He stepped close to pull her into an embrace, not an intimate hold, but rather one of comfort. Only as he stepped toward her, she moved away. Heading back to the now impassable channel of sea foam and swirling water, her gaze cast to the cliffs. A deep inhale bowed her body. With what looked like defeat, Piper crouched down and clutched at her sides.

  Was she crying?

  He tilted his head to see if he could hear her soft sobs, but the waves pounding against the beach made that impossible.

  What was he supposed to do? Leave her? Comfort her? Stand here like a fool?

  There were no instruction books for stuff like this. This was an area well out of his wheelhouse.

  He wasn’t the kind of man who soothed women. He used them to get off, and had been for well over a decade. For him, that was all women were good for. If they were willing to spread their legs and give it away, then he had no problem taking every last bit of their dignity.

  The power behind commanding any woman he chose was an incredible rush. It had his dick twitching, thinking about exercising that degree of power over another human being. Standing over Piper felt wrong. He should do something to ease her pain, but whatever that was he hadn’t a clue.

  Instead of going to her side, he walked a short distance away and surveyed the empty expanse of the beach. By law, California beaches were open to the public. However, the cliffs and rugged coastline insulated the beach below Insanity from the casual interloper. Their beach, for all intents and purposes, was nearly private. A few eager fans made the mile long trek over treacherous rocks to reach the base of the cliffs over which Insanity perched, but they seldom lingered.

  He preferred it that way, because it allowed him the freedom to explore. He especially enjoyed gazing into the tide pools. More than a few of his afternoons were spent exploring the various sea creatures which made the small pools their home. He’d been known to comb the beaches for hours, waiting for the sun to set. Watching a fiery sunset turn the sky ablaze had to be one of the most surreal moments of the day. Some of his best times had been spent on this beach alone.

  Sometimes, he hung out here with his bandmates. They would goof off as the sky darkened and the stars dusted the heavens. Sometimes, Ash and Bash would bring everyone down for an impromptu jam session when they were writing new songs. He lacked that gift. Much like Ryker Lyons, Bent played more by ear. He could read music. He’d been classically trained, but he preferred to let the natural rhythms direct the next step. Perhaps that’s why he and Ryker had hit it off as well as they had. Bent had a profound respect for the man’s skill.

  There had been some awkwardness at the start. Bent had practically begged Ryker to step up and save the USO tour a few months back. Ryker wouldn’t have anything to do with it. Having been in a band before, he understood the unique dynamics binding a group of guys together. Ryker had thought playing for a few months would tear the band apart, but he hadn’t understood how Angel Fire worked. Ash, Bash, Noodles, Spike and Bent were more than brothers. They shared an unbreakable bond, one which had been tested more than once.

  Bent glanced back at Piper. Having moved off a few paces, he gave her distance to sort out whatever was going on in that head of hers. They had a few hours before his next therapy session and he was itching to spend time away from her. The physical closeness of those sessions, and his continued lack of progress, didn’t sit well with him.

  The crunching of rocks had him turning around. Piper headed back to the small group of buildings at the base of the cliffs.

  “Hey!” He jogged to catch up with her. “Where you going?”

  “Back up.”

  She had left without so much as a by your leave.

  “Were you going to just leave me?”

  His long stride closed the distance. She shifted back when his shadow covered her face. What was it with her pulling back from him all the time? A big man, he held a commanding presence, but he’d been nothing but sweet to the girl, at least as sweet as he was to anyone.

  “You seemed to be having a moment.”

  “A moment? You were the one having a moment. I was giving you space.”

  “Well, I had enough space. Now, I want food.”

  “And it didn’t occur to you to tell me? You just walked off and left me. That’s kind of rude, don’t you think?”

  “I didn’t realize I had to inform you of my comings and goings.”

  He vented a frustrated sigh and bit back a colorful string of expletives. “You don’t have to do anything, Piper, but would it kill you to be polite?”

  “I’m overly polite to you.” She kicked at a pebble, then resumed her march toward the cliff. She stopped suddenly, after realizing he was not trailing after her and gave a huff. “Are you coming? Do you want lunch?”

  “Sounds great. I’m hungry and I know the perfect place.”

  Her cute little fingers curled into tiny fists. “That’s not what I meant. I wasn’t asking you to join me.”

  The woman was insufferable. “Would it kill you to share a meal with me? I don’t bite.”

  “Well, thank fuck for that.”

  “No need to be a bitch about it, and watch your mouth. Swearing doesn’t look pretty on you.”

  “How exactly was that being bitchy? And if you remember, we had a deal. One you broke. When you decide to give me your all in therapy, I’ll consider reining back on some of my swearing. But that’s a two-way street. You’ve got the mouth even a sailor wouldn’t be proud of.”

  “You make it sound like the worst thing in the world would be having lunch with me. And it’s different for men. Swearing is expected.”

  “Whatever.”

  Piper glanced out at the ocean and closed her eyes. She took three deep breaths before opening them a
gain. Those few moments had his heart thudding. He didn’t think she had any idea how incredibly beautiful she was, and he certainly wasn’t going to be the one to tell her. The woman already had a chip on her shoulder.

  “You want lunch? We’ll eat lunch. I just don’t want to blur any lines, that’s all. I’m here for only one reason, and that’s not to be getting chummy with you and sharing meals. It’s best if we don’t lose sight of that.”

  How the fuck had they gone from holding hands, however tenuous and short-lived that connection had been, to this? Another argument.

  He had missed something, but a quick review of the past several minutes had him coming up blank. Maybe all women were emotionally unbalanced. Yet another reason not to get close to them. Fuck them and leave them wanting more. It was a good motto to have.

  Maybe that’s what he needed? A good nameless fuck. He didn’t know if any groupies were still hanging around Insanity, but it wouldn’t be hard to find one. If there weren’t any about, then he could make a trip down the road and hit up one of the local bars. There was always willing meat to be had there. Once the women found out who he was, he’d have a line waiting for a quick fuck in the bathroom. It would be good to relieve some of his growing tension.

  There was only one problem with that, and it stood in front of him with fiery red hair and tiny clenched fists. If he missed their afternoon therapy session, she would run off and tell Forest. It wouldn’t take long before Forest was chewing him out again. Not that he feared Forest. The man was more bluster than bite, but Bent wasn’t interested in going head to head with the man and finding out.

  “If you don’t like your job,” he said with a grunt of irritation, “then don’t come back. I don’t need you.” It was his turn to stalk off.

  A cute little roar of irritation rumbled past her lips and rocks crunched beneath her feet as she ran to catch him.

  “You’re not firing me, Bentley Hawthorne! We’ve been over this.”

  He spun around and thrust out, grabbing Piper by the neck. Her round eyes widened with alarm as he tightened his grip. Her windpipe wasn’t in danger of being crushed, and he wasn’t hurting her. But he sure as shit was making a point. He was actually being quite gentle.

  “Don’t ever call me by that name again. You hear me?” The words rolled out of him in a long rumbly growl. One which had her eyes stretching impossibly wide.

  She clutched at his wrist and dug at his fingers, but he was over twice her size, probably a bit more. Something stirred in her face, a feral instinct to fight, but instead of resisting, her entire body suddenly went limp. Her arms dropped to her sides and she stared at him with unwavering submission.

  The way her entire body gave up had the hairs on his arms lifting and his skin tingling. His balls drew up, shriveling with an unsettled emotion. This wasn’t the first time he’d choked a woman. He enjoyed a hefty dose of kink with his sex, and asphyxiation play topped his list. But this? This was something else entirely. All his senses fired, and not in a good way.

  While he understood the reason for his reaction to the use of his full name, he didn’t understand her reaction to the choking, even if he’d only meant to startle her.

  Releasing her throat, he took two steps back. He ran his hands through his curly hair and stared at the pebbles beneath her feet.

  “Shit, Piper. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…I just…Shit!”

  He spun and put more space between them. Threading his fingers together, he cradled the back of his head and stared up into the sky. The wind whipped at him, bringing back memories which belonged firmly in the past.

  There was only one person who had ever called him by his full name, and while his mother’s end had come tragically, it had been well deserved. He would never forget the screech of his name on her lips, or the terror it had churned in his gut. His reaction came as instinct, with rage replacing the terror of a little boy. It wasn’t something he controlled and was the driving force behind his insistence people call him Bent. Most thought it was a stage name, but he’d insisted everyone call him Bent the day after his mother had hanged herself.

  He hadn’t been the one who bore the brunt of her cruelty, but he had been forced to watch what happened to a person after years of physical and emotional abuse. These were not memories he visited often, and the profoundness of his guilt at the joy sparking in his heart when his mother died still rested heavily on his shoulders.

  Those were not memories for now, and this was not the time to indulge in the horrors of his past, not when tears streamed down Piper’s face. She didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of his anger, and that more than any of the rest of it, twisted at his gut.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He’d frightened the hell out of her, and something else.

  Between one moment and the next, something deep inside of her had shifted. He didn’t understand it, but an unusually strong need to protect her overcame him. He didn’t like the way that aroused him, either, because it filled him with dread. He wasn’t a man who took care of a woman. He was the kind that used them.

  Protect her? The man who had wrapped his hand around her neck now wanted to protect her? He was fucked in the head. Those two thoughts didn’t even make sense together.

  “It’s okay, Bent.” Her soft hand sought out his mangled arm.

  His instinct was to rip the offensive appendage out of her grip, but her soothing caress wasn’t something he was willing to give up.

  “I’m sorry I reacted like that. The reasons behind it are complicated, but it was wrong of me to lose control like that. I’m sincerely sorry.”

  She found his fingers and she twined hers with his until their hands were bound together. He hated her holding his weak hand, but she gripped it with reverence and respect. She cupped their interlocked hands and brought the backs of his knuckles to her lips.

  “It’s okay.”

  It was anything but okay. His body responded in ways it had no business responding, and he needed to end the fleeting contact. For the life of him, he couldn’t find that strength.

  He turned toward the outbuildings. “Come, let’s get something to eat before…” Before he was forced to spend another grueling two hours in her presence. No way in hell was he going to spend any more time alone with Piper Raines.

  His lips twitched at the corners, thinking again about that pool. He would make their time together as wretched as possible. Maybe then she would decide to finally leave.

  Gondola

  Piper

  The walk to the base of the gondola took less than five minutes, but during those minutes Piper's lungs struggled to find oxygen. The drumbeat of her heart rattled her ribcage, pounding loud enough that she was certain Bent could hear the terror swirling in her veins.

  But was it terror? Is that what had happened?

  If so, why was she allowing him to hold her hand? That question swirled in the muddy mess of her thoughts. No answer revealed itself.

  Unknowingly, Bent had activated her trigger. Through deprivation, punishment, and sexual depredation, she had managed to resist her tormenters, but strangulation had been the final tool which had broken through her last reserves. The threat of death, one exercised again and again, had finally driven her to her knees. Resistance really had been futile. With a hand wrapped around her neck, she'd learned a horrible truth. Anyone could be broken.

  Everyone had a breaking point. Her foster father had found hers. Living meant surrender, and the torment didn’t end. He had enjoyed the obedience which came with each pull of her strangled breaths. For over a week, he had subjected her to the stimulus until her brain equated strangulation with submission.

  She’d escaped with the help of Forest. Paul hadn’t been as lucky. She wasn’t done looking for him and she sure as hell wasn’t done trying to save him. Which was how she came to find herself walking on a rocky beach with Bent’s hand in hers. Despite the warm temperatures, a shiver raced down her back. She pulled out of Bent’s grip and staggered be
neath the weight of the memory.

  “You okay?” Bent placed a hand on her shoulder. It took everything within her not to shrug him off.

  “I’m good.” She gave a tight nod, but the arch of his brow said he wasn’t convinced.

  Immediately, she missed the comforting warmth of his hand and wondered what it might feel like to be held in the arms of a man who didn’t intend for pain to follow. Bent appeared at a loss for words, which was unusual. He didn’t even curse.

  His insistence that she clean up her language was laughable at best. She wasn’t one to swear and only did because it got a rise out of him. If she could use his anger to get him to apply himself during their sessions, then she would. She could curse with the best of them, although she preferred to keep her language clean.

  As for their little deal? She had no doubt she would come out ahead in that one.

  Now, what to do about the tension swirling between them?

  “You don’t look good.” He helped her up the small step, gently guiding her by the elbow, then let go.

  “It’s just been a long day.” That wasn’t a lie. Emotionally, she’d been through the wringer. Mentally, she’d racked her brain trying to figure out a way to break down Bent’s barriers. Physically? She was ready to run a marathon.

  “It’s barely noon,” he said.

  “You know that’s not what I mean.”

  “Look, about back there…”

  “How about we talk about what happened later?”

  She glanced over her shoulder, a pang of regret bit at her for what she’d lost, but there was nothing she could do about it now. The pen was gone. Paul was gone. It had probably been silly to have clung to the pen for so long. It wasn’t even that the pen had any special significance, except it was the last thing of his she had left. That silly pen tied her to her brother. It wasn’t as if she was a superstitious person, but without the pen her last link to her brother was gone. Her greatest fear was that meant she would never see him again.