BLYSS (Blyss Trilogy #1) (10 page)

Holy hell, he is a smooth operator,
I think as he leans in close, wiping my stray tears with his thumb. His tender touch and his act of kindness make me want to weep even more. I find myself captivated by his enchanting spell. Those beautiful, familiar green eyes stare into mine, speaking to me with compassion and understanding. I believe he’s trying to speak to me through his eyes, but I can’t interpret the meaning; yet his calm and quiet demeanor seems to soothe me. Have I lost my mind, or is what I’m feeling part of the shock process?

“Shh now, it’ll be all right. Take a deep breath for me…breathe.”
 

Oh. My. God. The way he’s attempting to pick up the broken pieces of me has my heart slowly beating back to life. It’s good to hear his now-familiar voice again, speaking with a smooth, husky, and deep tone. His soft touch and his voice seem to provide a safe haven of solace for the moment, a comfort I desperately need in this time of disparity. I didn’t realize I was barely breathing until I find myself taking a deep, shaky breath at his request.

If I had met this man in another place and time, garnering me with this type of affection, I would’ve thought I’d won the lottery. He wouldn’t have needed to capture me to make me his. He could have simply been a stranger crossing my path, and if he were to stop me and ask me out, I would have accepted on the spot without hesitation.
 

I slap the palm of my hand hard against my forehead with a loud smack, and the sound resonates through my head. Something is seriously messing with my brain.
What the hell? What about Adam?
I slap myself in the forehead again, needing to clear my hazy thoughts.
 

“Hey! Hey, now...stop,” Travis says firmly. He takes my hands in his to prevent me from causing further self-injury, and I let out a wail of frustration.
 

“What’s happening to me?” I cry out. Since my hands are trapped, I find myself starting to bang my already-sore head against the headboard, wincing in pain.

“Stop it!” Travis bellows, and his reverberating voice freezes me in place. He lets go of my hands and wraps me in a strong, warm embrace. His familiar scent of leather envelops me, warming my insides. I can feel the muscles in his chest and biceps as he pulls me in closer to him, pulling me out of both my shock and my tantrum.
 

“You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you,” he whispers softly in my ear. For some strange reason, I find myself slipping my arms around his thick body, returning his embrace; I can’t help myself. Being wrapped in his arms gives me the illusion of being out of harm’s way. I feel his muscles flex in his upper back while my nose nestles into the crook of his neck, inhaling pure man.

He then mirrors my actions, leaning in to nuzzle my neck, his soft breaths cascading over my neck, sending goose bumps down my spine. I allow myself to take comfort in the moment and get lost in his touch. I don’t know what it is about Travis, but he has a magnetic-like pull on my body and mind, and seems to have the ability to erase the bad.

I’m scared—actually, more than scared, perhaps utterly terrified. What if my father and his men don’t get to me in time, and I’ve been shattered beyond repair by the things Nick has planned for me? What about Adam, and our future plans? Oh, God! Who’s going to be the one to tell him what had happened? I can’t imagine what’s going through his mind right now. I feel myself getting upset all over again, and new tears begin to form.

By the sound of it, Nick has been planning this for a long while. My body shivers at the thought, and I fist the fabric on the back of Travis’ shirt in a frustrated death grip. He feels my growing anxiety and pulls back to see my eyes mimicking a deer in headlights, as the reality of my new world sinks in.
 

“I need you to trust me,” he says with a deep, firm voice. “I’ve got you, okay?” I pull my lower lip between my teeth in worry. I don’t know what he’s trying to say, but I decide to nod my head in agreement anyway, as if I understand. “I’m serious; you will come to learn really quickly that I’m a man of my word, and I mean what I say.”
 

I nod again to placate him. He wants me to trust him to do what? Trust he will abuse me, use me? It takes a lot to trust someone, let alone a couple of thugs who have wicked plans, and if I don’t comply, they will give me away to sex traffickers. My stomach twists in a knot at the thought.

Leaning in only inches from my face, he lets out a sigh. “If you don’t want to be called ‘Princess,’ what would you like me to call you?”
 

Well, that question came out of left field. I shake my head, giving him a puzzled look, and croakily answer, “Julianna. My name is Julianna, but my close friends…they call me Jules.”
Now, why the hell did I just tell him that?
It’s as if I’m saying, ‘Yeah, hot captor babe, you can call me Jules.’

“Well, how about I start with Julianna then? Would that be all right?” I take a deep breath and nod. “That-a girl. Focus on your breathing.” Travis moves his hands to my tear-streaked face and wipes away the wetness. I sniffle and take in more oxygen. “Keep taking deep breaths for me,” he urges.

His thumbs are still on my face, but he’s no longer wiping my tears. He’s caressing my cheeks where Nick held me so roughly before. His soft touch is distracting me from my troubled thoughts, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s trying to rub away the memory of Nick’s touch. Thinking of Nick again sends a shiver through my body.

“Shh, settle down now,” he whispers. The way Travis is staring at me makes my heart race. I’m becoming hyper-aware of him and the effect he’s having on me, and I hate myself a little more. I feel blood rushing to my face, and he gives me a sexy, knowing grin. I shift my gaze downward, studying his forearms to hide my forming blush.

“All right then, Julianna,” he says, and I love the way he rolls my name off his tongue. He then places his calloused finger under my chin and slowly lifts my gaze to meet his again. He inclines his head, and it feels as if he’s going to move in for a kiss.
Whoa
—my heart beats double-time, and my stomach flips into a knot. “Julianna,” he whispers my name as if it’s a prayer, “you are safe with me. I promise you can trust what I say. I’m not going to hurt you.”
 

I look into his sincere eyes and somehow, I believe him. His words are as sweet as honey, rich and smooth, soothing my frayed nerves. I find myself wanting to hang on to every word that proceeds out of his mouth. Just when I think he’s going to close the distance for a kiss, he pulls back, leaving me feeling bereft. His eyes searching mine, he asks, “Do you understand me now?”
 

“Yes,” I answer in a small voice and nod my head, because I think I do understand he won’t let harm come to me, but Nick is another story. Transfixed on his searing gaze, I repeat, “Yes, thank you.”
 

Um, thank you, Jules? Really? Thanking your captor?

I tell myself it’s not my fault; his close proximity is too distracting, making my brain cells misfire.
 

“I know you have plenty of unanswered questions, and I will answer the majority of them tomorrow, when you’re better rested, but if you wish, I can answer a select few for you now. I’ll tell you if I’m not at liberty to answer something for you or not.”
 

Before I have the opportunity to speak, he holds up his finger, indicating he’s not done. He gets up, retrieves the tray of food, and carries it back with him. He sets it on the nightstand beside me, and I watch him remove the dome lid, uncovering a steamy, hot meal. “Why don’t you eat a little bit first? You haven’t eaten all day, and you’re going to need your strength.”

He has a forkful of roast beef with potatoes speared onto the end of the fork when I look over, and I find myself in a trance again, watching him bring it up to blow on through his soft lips, cooling my food. The steam swirls then dissipates into the air, leaving a delicious smell in its wake. My stomach decides at that moment to embarrass me and grumble.

“Ah, I heard that. I see dinner is just in time,” he says with a smirk as he steers the bite of food straight toward my lips to feed me. I’m dumbfounded at myself as I comply, my lips automatically parting, accepting the warm bite of food before me. “That-a girl,” he praises.
 

“Mmmm.”
Shit, I can’t believe I just moaned.
 

He reaches for a napkin, then dabs the corners of my lips with it. “Our finest cuisine, Madame, made especially for you.” He speaks the words with an exaggerated French accent and gives me a grin, and then in the same accent, he says, “I guess meat and potatoes are gluten-free, no?” I almost giggle, but I repress it with a shy smile. “Ahhh, now that’s a beautiful sight. I must thank the chef personally.” The meal does taste wonderful, especially since I haven’t eaten in twenty-four hours. Despite the circumstances, I do appreciate him trying to make me feel better, especially now that he’s told me he won’t hurt me.
 

However, I know I shouldn’t get too comfortable with him, and I also know I’m not thinking rationally right now, either. I have no idea how to deal with this situation, and I feel so foolish allowing myself to slip into denial. This has got to be part of the shock process I’m going through, escaping into Travis-land as a self-preservation mechanism. After Nick’s jolting blow by threatening to sell me, I can’t seem to admit to myself the full reality of my circumstances anymore; my consciousness simply refuses to acknowledge it.

An inviting grin plays across his handsome face while he stares intently at me, lifting one brow. He’s damn good at playing this game; I’ll give him that. My state of mind went from irate to shock, and then my tears turned into small smiles, all at record speed. I feel like I’m out of my mind as my emotions have been scattered all over the map.
 

“You are, you know…” he says rather seriously, “…a beautiful sight.” I blush, averting my gaze from his. He chuckles at me while turning to gather up another forkful of food. I’m sure I’m a sight, all right—all battered and bruised.

I glance back up at him, his profile facing me, and I notice through his scruffy beard there’s a long line where facial hair hasn’t grown. It’s a scar, and it starts in front of his right ear and runs along the underside of his jawline. It’s a thin scar, barely visible to the naked eye, which makes me think it’s old. It only adds to his sexy, yet dangerous persona. I have the urge to trace it with my finger, but of course, I don’t.

I don’t feel threatened by Travis at all, even though there seems to be a certain unreadable edge to him. I can’t quite put my finger on it. With Nick, you can feel the evil emanating from him, and it screams at you from a mile away. He doesn’t try to conceal it either. Travis, on the other hand, seems to be one cool cat. You don’t know what he’s thinking or feeling. He’s obviously a well-practiced master of controlling his own emotions and expressions.
 

I snap out of my deep thoughts the moment I feel him tapping on my lower lip with the tip of the fork, willing me to open for him. My lips automatically part, allowing him to slip the warm food into my mouth. I have a niggling question, so as soon as I swallow my bite,
 
I tentatively ask, “When can I get this needle out of my arm?”
 

“Tomorrow morning, I promise. We left it in for your own safety. Now that you’re up, eating, and feeling better, it can come out.”

His doting is a welcome distraction. He feeds me from then on in a comfortable silence, leaving me with my own endless thoughts and unanswered questions. Before I know it, I’m swallowing the last bite of food.

“What are you thinking about, Julianna?”

I close my eyes, letting out an audible sigh. “You really don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do. What you think is important to me.”
 

I lift my head to stare into his eyes, trying to decide if he’s being sincere, but he’s unreadable. “Why?”

“Why what, Julianna?”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” I follow his movements as he places the fork on the empty food tray.
 

Looking toward me again, he tilts his head, peering at me through his long eyelashes with a tenderness I can’t describe. “This is just a small part of my job. Your safekeeping and care are my responsibility,” he softly replies.

I don’t know how to respond to his declaration, so I attempt to stay on track with my line of questioning, and ask, “Why me?” I find my voice, finally steadying out. “Why is it you guys specifically wanted me?”

He looks down to find my hands and gently captures them in his own, tenderly holding them. My hands look so small against his calloused ones, and we both watch as his thumbs trace a pattern across the backside of my knuckles. The question hangs in the air, and my anxiety escalates. I want to cry again for being held here against my will. My food suddenly sits on my stomach like a rock, and I want to vomit. Even though Travis says he won’t hurt me, the fact remains, I’m a captive.

Why they specifically want me is a really simple question, and yet neither man will give me a straightforward answer. After a brief hesitation, he lifts his gaze to mine, and I’m immediately caught up in feelings and emotions I have no business entertaining. The man seems to get more handsome with each passing minute. I close my eyes tightly, rest my head against the headboard, and think of Adam. I’m losing my freaking mind with these bizarre thoughts.