Midnight Temptation

by L Ann

  “I’m sorry, I thought you knew I was here. Will you come inside?”

  Pull yourself together. You’re alive. You can get over this.

  Gemma took a deep breath and nodded, following Isabella into the TV room.

  “I know you probably want to clean up,” Isabella began softly, glancing toward her hair. “But Chase has asked if you can wait a few minutes longer. He’d like to check you over, make sure you’re okay.”

  “He doesn’t need to do that.” Gemma swallowed against the sudden onset of panic at the thought of anyone putting their hands on her. “I’m fine. All I really want to do is shower and sleep.”

  Isabella frowned. “Gemma, Cassie may not know but we are shifters.” She placed a hand on Gemma’s arm. “You’re not fine.”

  “Please don’t touch me.” Gemma shook her off and moved past her. “I’m well enough. Are my clothes still in Deacon’s room?”

  “Yes, would you like to go up there? I’ll walk with you.”

  “You don’t need to do that. You should be with Shaun … and Cormac.”

  “The Alpha and his brothers don’t need me to be there. You shouldn’t be alone.”

  Gemma shook her head tiredly. The one thing she didn’t want was people looking at her, pitying her, questioning her.

  Until Deacon had appeared before the cage, she had come to terms with the very real chance she was going to die. She had wanted to die. She had begged Damien to kill her more than once.

  Maybe she would still end it.

  Something brushed against the edge of her awareness, a caress at the back of her skull, and the dark thoughts plaguing her lost their power. They were still there, but they were … less.

  She tried to smile, knowing Isabella was watching her. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll just go upstairs and rest.”

  Isabella sighed, and followed her out of the room. Pack members lined the hallway upstairs, and Gemma paused, uncomfortable with the thought of passing so close to them. Isabella moved beside her, rested her palm against Gemma’s back and guided her to Deacon’s room. She opened the door and stepped back to allow her inside. Gemma stopped in the doorway. Deacon’s scent was stronger here and she almost relaxed, until she spotted the sandy-haired man waiting within.

  “Chase,” Isabella greeted the Pack doctor.

  “You’re wasting your time,” Gemma told him. “You’re needed with Shaun.”

  Chase inclined his head in response to Isabella’s greeting, his eyes focused on Gemma. “Izzy, would you mind leaving Gemma and I to talk?”

  Isabella frowned, her gaze going to Gemma who looked away, letting her attention wander around the room.

  “Chase, she’s not–”

  “Her reaction isn’t unusual. Go, make yourself useful.” The male shifter turned Isabella around with gentle hands and propelled her back toward the door. With one final look in Gemma’s direction, Isabella stepped through and closed it carefully behind her.

  “Gemma? Do you want to talk about what happened?”

  Gemma turned her head to focus on Chase, trying to ignore the closed door and how she was alone with him. “No. I just want to forget about it. I want to shower and then sleep.” She skirted around him to sit on the edge of the bed, curling her fingers into the blanket. “I’m so tired.”

  “I know, but I need you to answer a few questions for me. Do you think you can do that?”

  Gemma frowned. Didn’t he understand?

  “There’s nothing to say. I was there, now I’m not.”

  Don’t think about it.

  There was another light caress against her skull and her frown cleared. “It’s Shaun you need to look after. Damien spent most of his time with him.”

  “Will you at least let me run some tests?”

  “What kind of tests?”

  He crouched in front of her, bringing his face eye-level with hers, careful not to touch her. “There’s no risk of STDs, but pregnancy could be a very real–” he broke off when she laughed, the sound discordant in the quiet room.

  “I’m not pregnant.”

  “Let me test–”

  “I’m not pregnant.”

  Please don’t ask me how I can be so sure.

  Her fingers dug into the soft material of the blanket as fear threatened to break through the fragile calm she was maintaining.

  “Okay, alright. Does anywhere hurt? Can I give you something for any cuts?”

  “No.” She scooted backwards until she was sitting in the centre of the bed and drew her legs up beneath the jacket. “Please, I would like you to go and help Shaun. He needs you.”

  Deacon left Shaun with Cassie after assuring himself she would be safe with him and trudged toward his bedroom. It had been a long-ass night, and he couldn’t shake the feeling it wasn’t over yet.

  “Do you think she’ll be able to handle him or should I post someone outside?” Cormac’s quiet voice sounded behind him. Deacon stifled a sigh and turned to face his older brother.

  “Who? Cassie?” He waited for Cormac’s nod. “If anyone can help him through this, she can. Their mate-link is the real deal. You can see it. She makes him want to be a better version of himself.”

  “And her sister.”

  Deacon stiffened. He’d avoided thinking about Gemma since leaving her outside. “What about her?”

  “Chase said she wouldn’t let him check her over. Do you think she’ll be ready to talk soon? She might have overheard Damien talk about Scarlet.”

  “I doubt it. She’s not one of us, Mac. Neither Gemma nor Cassie grew up in our world.” He pushed his hair off his forehead, noting absently it had grown long enough to impede his vision again. He really needed to find time to cut it. “I don’t think human females are the same as Shifter ones.”

  “She’s not human, she’s a half-breed.” Cormac disagreed. “They were always nothing more than a rumour, and now we have two under our roof. Add to that, our discovery the Draydon Pack massacre wasn’t a random tragedy.” He sighed. “There’s something building, Deacon. Something big. And instinct tells me Damien has a part to play in it.”

  “Yeah … yeah,” Deacon replied softly. “We need to find out where he’s ran to.”

  “We will. But first, you need to get some rest. It’s been a long night and I don’t think things are going to get any easier.” He patted Deacon’s shoulder. “You’re the best tracker we have and your skills are going to be in high demand in the coming weeks. For tonight, though, we can rest easy. So get some sleep, brother.” Without waiting for a reply, the Pack’s Alpha walked away.

  Deacon watched his brother’s retreating form until he disappeared into the stairwell, then sighed and took the remaining steps to his bedroom.

  “Deacon?”

  Dredging up a smile he didn’t feel, he paused with one hand on the doorknob and turned his head to see Isabella moving toward him. “What can I do for you?”

  “I wanted to catch you before you go in there.”

  One eyebrow arched up. “Before I go into my bedroom?”

  “Gemma is in there. She refused to let Chase examine her and, although she claimed to want to shower, I don’t think she has actually done it.” Isabella rested a hand on Deacon’s arm. “Did she say what happened?”

  He shrugged her off, uncomfortable having the female his brother was supposed to be mating with touch him. “And when would that have happened? Back when I took her out of a cage? Or maybe on the slow drive back while Shaun was thrashing, screaming and frothing at the mouth?” he snapped.

  “Deacon–”

  “What?” He dragged a hand through his hair, and took a deep breath, forcing himself to contain the anger boiling under his skin. “Why does everyone think she’ll tell me anything?”

  “Deny it if you must, but there’s a connection between you. You know there is. She trusts you.” Her hand returned and squeezed his forearm. “Get her to talk to you. She can’t move forward until she deals with what happened.”
<
br />   Deacon grunted, knowing if he spoke he would spill out words that would cause hurt. He shook off her hand once more and pushed open the door.

  His eyes fell on the figure sitting in the centre of his bed. Gemma’s knees were drawn up beneath her chin, and her arms draped loosely around her legs. At the sound of the door opening, her eyes snapped open and he had to hold back a flinch at the emptiness he saw in them. One of the things that had always attracted him to her had been the mischief in her eyes - now they looked … dead.

  Deacon entered the room, closed the door gently behind him, blocking Isabella from view, and leaned back against it. He folded his arms across his chest and considered what his next step should be.

  It was all very well for both Cormac and Isabella to think he held some sort of magic ability to fix Gemma. But how did you fix something you didn’t think was broken? She was damaged and hurt, yes, but she was strong and he was confident she would get over this.

  “Did Chase come and see you?” he asked after a moment’s silence. He was curious to see if she would lie.

  “I sent him away. Shaun needs him more than I do,” she replied.

  She could have been commenting on the weather for all the emotion she displayed. Deacon’s wolf growled inside his mind.

  Something isn’t right.

  “Look, I get it. You saw what Damien was doing to Shaun and, in whatever fucked up version of events you’ve twisted it into, nothing he did to you is worth worrying about.” He pushed himself away from the door and stalked toward her.

  He could smell Damien on her, and his wolf’s growl grew louder and angrier inside his head, pushing him to force a reaction, any kind of reaction that broke her out of the dull-eyed lethargy she was displaying.

  “Here’s the thing. You fucking stink and you’re polluting the space I sleep in. I honestly don’t care whether you let Chase check you over or not, but you will take a shower.”

  He watched her tense with every word he hurled at her, waited for the spark to return to her dull eyes and braced himself. He wasn’t disappointed. She launched herself forward off the bed, and slammed bodily into him.

  Deacon rocked backwards as her fists hammered into his chest.

  “I stink?” She threw the words at him. “I am so sorry I wasn’t able to take a fucking shower. I was busy being locked up in a cage and treated like a cheap whore! He chained me up, Deacon! He put a collar on me. He made me beg for water and scraps.”

  “Yes, he did,” Deacon agreed, while he scooped her up into his arms and opened his bedroom door.

  “When I refused to … to …” she gulped in a breath, tensed and shook her head. Deacon was sure he saw a flash of light blue eyes, but when she looked up at him, they were the same dark blue they had always been. “He hit me.”

  “What did you refuse to do?” He kept his tone conversational as he carried her into the bathroom and set her on her feet.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  It mattered. Deacon could smell it on her. The air surrounding her was thick with how much whatever she’d refused to do had affected her. He filed it away to investigate another day.

  Leaning past her, he switched on the shower and fiddled with its settings until he was satisfied with the temperature.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You’re taking a shower, Starshine. I’d run you a bath, but I don’t trust myself right now not to fucking drown you when you open your mouth again and spew out more bullshit of how everything is fine and you don’t need anything.” He unbuttoned the jacket she still wore and slid it off her shoulders.

  “No!” She lifted her hands to warn him off, turned her face away. “I’m not … I can’t …”

  “Gemma … Gemma …” he murmured her name, realising his error too late, and used one hand to turn her face back toward him. “Do you think so little of me?” He caught her wrists, lowered her hands back to her sides and tugged the jacket down her arms. Slinging it to one side, he hooked a hand around her elbow and tugged her forward beneath the spray of water. “Do you really believe I’d start something with you right now?”

  “No. Why would you want to?” The apathy was back, and Deacon ground his teeth, frustrated at his inability to keep her emotions engaged.

  He turned her until she faced away from him, then joined her, fully clothed, beneath the spray.

  “Why wouldn’t I want to?” he asked.

  Her head bowed and the scent of her shame had him clenching his jaw.

  “Because he–”

  “No, I can tell you right now, that whatever you’re thinking is not the reason,” he bent to whisper close to her ear. “It’s because you smell way too bad for my sensitive nose right now.”

  Her back stiffened. “You’re not funny.”

  “I’m a little fun–” The air left him in a rush when her elbow connected with his stomach. Deacon gave a satisfied chuckle and reached for the soap. Squeezing a generous amount onto his hand, he smoothed it over her shoulder. She tensed beneath his touch.

  “I promise, Starshine. My intention is simply to get you cleaned up.”

  And examine the marks and bruises covering her skin, he acknowledged to himself.

  “I can clean myself.” Gemma’s protest was half-hearted and she made no move to stop him.

  “I know you can.” He picked up a wash cloth and gently started to wipe the dirt from her body.

  Gemma closed her eyes and let the warm water wash over her in a soothing wave. She could feel Deacon behind her, his fingers firm against her scalp as he shampooed her hair and she tipped her head back at his murmured request so he could rinse out the soap, lulled into a semi-daze by his gentle ministrations.

  When he cut off the water and stepped out of the cubicle, Gemma stayed where he’d left her, content to remain in the quiet steamed up shower, closed away from the rest of the world. She knew she should be feeling more than she did, but refused to examine why she felt so lethargic and detached.

  She could hear Deacon moving around if she concentrated hard enough – the wet slap of bare feet against tiles - and then he appeared before her with a large soft towel held outstretched in his hands.

  “Come on, Starshine, let’s get you dried off.” He didn’t wait for her reply, seeming to recognise her need to stay quiet, and engulfed her in the warm towel. He wrapped it around her before he lifted her off her feet and carried her back out of the bathroom and into his bedroom.

  Part of her knew she should protest, send him away, and keep some distance. Another part of her, the part that whispered at the back her mind, welcomed his attention because it meant she didn’t have to do anything, didn’t have to think. And she really didn’t want to think about what had happened … not yet. Maybe not ever.

  “Gemma?”

  Her name pulled her out of her thoughts and she forced herself to focus on the man uttering it. She frowned, trying to figure out why his face seemed to be floating above her, and it took a moment for Gemma to realise she was lying in bed.

  When had that happened?

  “Chase left some pills for you to take. To help you sleep.”

  She blinked at him, glanced at the tablets lying in the palm of his hand and shook her head. “I don’t want them.”

  “But–”

  “No!”

  “Come on, Starshine. Just swallow them and then you can sleep.”

  Swallow it, bitch. Take it all. Every last drop.

  His fingers pressed against her lips, prised them apart and she tasted the acrid flavour of the tablets on her tongue.

  “No! Nononono!” Her voice rose steadily with each word and she clutched at his wrist, trying to twist her head away, knowing it was too late.

  “Fuck! Gemma? Gemma!”

  Hands caught her wrists, pulled her fingers away from him. Arms wrapped around her, an exotically dark scent surrounding and warming her shaking body. Gemma’s eyes snapped up to meet golden ones, narrowed, dark and worried.

  “
D-Deacon?” She twisted her head around and discovered she was half-sprawled across his lap, her fingers clutching at his wet t-shirt, clinging tightly to the material. “I don’t–” she frowned at her damp fingers. “Why are you wet?”

  A faint smile pulled at his lips briefly. “Downside of showering with clothes on.”

  Showering? Gemma struggled to gather her thoughts together, but her eyes refused to stay open.

  “The tablets?” she whispered. “Did you … what did you give me?”

  “No idea, Starshine,” Deacon replied, his voice far away. “Chase said they’d help you sleep and that you should take them.”

  “But I didn’t want them.”

  She felt him move, lift her back onto the mattress and draw the sheets over her.

  “I know you didn’t. But you needed them.” His fingers brushed over her cheek. “Sleep now. It’ll be better in the morning.”

  Deacon slammed the bedroom door shut, his frustration over the lack of information on Damien’s whereabouts clear in his every move.

  It had been seven days since their cousin had escaped from the pack.

  Seven days since they had brought their brother back – broken and addicted to a drug he hated.

  Seven days of repeatedly asking Gemma to tell him what had happened during her captivity and getting nowhere.

  He’d thought he had broken through to her when, after showering the dirt from her body and tucking her into his bed, she’d caught his hand as she was drifting off into a drug-induced sleep and whispered her request for him to stay. He had hesitated, knowing there was a high chance the drugs were directing her actions. But his wolf hadn’t wanted to leave her alone, so he’d stripped off his wet clothes, pulled on some clean sweats and lay beside her. During the night, she’d sought him out, burrowed against his chest and slept in his arms. He had convinced himself he could break through the barrier she had erected and discover, for certain, what Damien had done. But no, by the next morning, she was back to her prickly standoffish self and that’s where she stayed.

  Until night fell, that was. Every single night for the past week since then, he’d been sleeping on the couch in the games room. He had considered staying beside her in his bed, but her daytime attitude made him feel she would throw him out. In fact, during the day she acted like Damien hadn’t taken her at all, and met any attempt by Deacon to discuss the subject with deflection and avoidance. But every single night, without fail, he would wake up to the door being opened and Gemma crawling onto the couch. She never slept too close or ended up in his arms like she had the first night. She curled up at the end of the couch and she never mentioned it.