Bound Guardian Angel (51 page)

He grinned. It felt as though the three of
them had experienced a giant, explosive three-way orgasm. One that
had completely drained them, leaving them flaccid.

The fantasy would have been perfect had
Cordray not twitched against him just then. A moment later, her
shoulders shuddered, and she made a quiet, breathless noise that
sounded like a sob.

Wait. What?

Was Cordray crying?

He had never seen Cordray cry.

“C?” he said quietly. “Are you okay?” A week
ago, he wouldn’t have cared. He would have been infuriated that her
tears might be pity. Pity for him.

But something had changed between him and
Cordray. He
did
care. And he could see that she did, too,
even if she had an odd way of showing it.

At the sound of his voice, Cordray bolted
upright, dashing her fingers under her eyes, collecting herself and
looking away before turning back toward him, keeping her gaze
averted. “I’m fine.”

God, but she was more beautiful than usual
with tears glistening in her eyes, making her irises shimmer like
sapphires in the moonlight.

She was like the apple in the Garden of
Eden, so tempting, yet so deadly. The combination made his balls
tingle.

“Come here,” he said, hardly daring to
breathe for fear of scaring her away.

She hesitated then slowly glided up his body
as if mesmerized.

If only he could touch her. He yearned to
push his fingers into her hair and hold her against him.

Her tears glistened like diamonds. Like
stars. He wanted to catch them in his palm and bring them to his
lips. Taste them. Savor their salty essence.

She drew closer, her face only inches from
his, her gaze locked on his mouth.

Yes, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to
feel her tongue slide over his. He had never wanted anything
more.

He closed his eyes, lifted his head, held
his breath.

And then Cordray jerked to a halt.

“What am I doing?” she said, as if to
herself.

He opened his eyes to find her staring at
him like she’d just caught herself buttering moldy bread.

She reared back. “I can’t do this.”

The about-face caught him off guard. It also
pissed him off. “Why are you fighting this?” He tugged against the
chains still securing him to the table. Anger at her rejection
spiked in his blood.

She pushed off of him, leaving cold
emptiness in her place. “I’m not fighting anything.”

“The hell you aren’t.”

“Don’t you dare presume to know me, Trace.”
She spun around, and all that glorious hair fanned out like silk on
the wind.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.” She stopped at the door and flashed
him a pained glance over her shoulder. “I’ll petition King Bain
tomorrow to terminate your community service at Asylum. You’re
free, Trace.”

With that, she blew out of the room like a
sharp gust.

Free?

She was letting him go?

What the hell was this shit? She couldn’t
let him go.

Staring blindly up at the ceiling, his heart
aching, he felt more like a prisoner now than ever. Because how
could he be free when he wasn’t with her?

Chapter 28

Cordray raced away from Micah’s house, tears
streaking her face.

She needed to go away for a while. The only
way to recover from the hold Trace had on her was to put him in her
rearview mirror and hope that time healed the ache in her
heart.

At the ranch, she pulled into the garage,
swept into the house, through the kitchen, and up the stairs to her
bedroom, where she shut herself inside the bathroom and splashed
water on her face for a good five minutes before lifting her head
to look in the mirror.

The female staring back at her was a
stranger. One who cried all the time like a pussy. One who’d been
weakened by love. One who bore no resemblance to the tough-assed
female she had become. For so long, she hadn’t wanted or even
needed a male. She had purged that need from her system the night
Gideon betrayed her. Trace would just give her more of the same, so
why did she care so much?

She’d almost lost him tonight. But instead
of making her want to confess her feelings to him and let the cards
fall where they may, she’d wanted nothing more than to get away.
Seeing him almost die was a painful reminder of how precarious a
relationship with him would be. Another reminder of how dangerous
it would be to allow herself to love him. Because peril would
always follow Trace around like a puppy. He would always be one
breath away from turning mutant. And she refused to put herself
into another situation where the male she loved could be taken away
from her in a heartbeat, leaving her crushed and heartbroken.

Sighing, she shut off the faucet, dried her
face, and turned off the light as she opened the door.

And came face to face with Skeletor.

* * *

“I need to go,” Trace said weakly. His limbs, which
were draped over the sides of the bathtub, were still as heavy as
concrete from the working over Micah had given him, but he couldn’t
shake the feeling that Cordray needed him.

He hadn’t been able to push her from his
mind since she’d left an hour ago. It was like she was still there,
inside his mind, even though she was gone.

Micah lifted his head from the edge of the
oversized tub and gazed drowsily over the layer of lilac-scented
bubbles at him. Sam was wrapped in his arms. Her head rested on his
shoulder, and her nose was pressed against the side of his
neck.

“You’re not going anywhere right now,
Trace.” Micah’s voice sounded as weary as he looked.

It had taken Micah ten minutes to recover
enough from being thrown across the room to lift himself off the
floor and release Trace from his bindings.

“But—”

“No. I can feel how tired you are. I can see
it.” Micah’s eyebrows rose toward his hairline as he tapped his
temple. “And God how I wish I couldn’t.”

“I warned you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Micah laid his head back and
groaned. “I’ll get used to it, but right now, all your mental vomit
is giving me one hell of a migraine.” He lifted his hand out of the
sudsy water and ran his palm down his face. “So much for aftercare.
This isn’t at all how I take care of my subs after a scene.”

“I’ll live.” Trace’s deep voice echoed from
his chest. It was the voice of a male well-soothed. A male who had
just unloaded a heavy burden and could no longer hold himself
upright from the sheer exhaustion of letting go of so much mental
waste. Waste that Micah now helped him carry.

“Want to talk about it?” Micah’s eyelids
cracked open.

“I thought you had a migraine.”

“Yeah, well, this isn’t about me right now,
buddy. It’s about you. I wouldn’t be much of a master if I didn’t
put my own discomfort aside at least a little bit and tend to your
needs first.”

Trace studied the way Micah’s eyelids
drooped shut again. Clearly, he was exhausted. That had been some
fucked-up shit back there. Connecting to Trace’s mind and his past
had to have been like an acid downpour, laden with sorrow and
heartbreak.

Micah’s eyes opened halfway again. They
glistened with unshed tears. “At least you know now that your dad
and brother didn’t die.”

“That doesn’t bring my mother back, though,
does it? She’s still dead. I still killed her.”

Micah’s eyebrows ticked inward. “That wasn’t
your fault. I saw what happened, Trace. You didn’t kill her.”

“You saw what I did. You saw how I disobeyed
my mother and let my power out in public. You saw how I lost
control and hurt those kids. If I hadn’t done that, their families
wouldn’t have learned what a freak I am. That I was the son of a
witch.” He curled his arms over his head and rocked forward,
sending a gentle wave of water toward Micah and Sam’s end of the
tub. “They never would have come after her—after us—if I hadn’t
lost control of my power. They wouldn’t have killed her.” He
splashed his arms back into the water as he dropped his head
back.

Tears trailed out the corners of his
eyes.

A moment later, Sam laid herself over his
body, hugging him, kissing the side of his neck. “Ssshhh.” She
kissed him again, but it wasn’t
her
lips he wanted
comforting him. It wasn’t
her
body he wanted to feel pressed
against his. He wanted Cordray. He
needed
her. “It’s okay.
Everything’s going to be okay now,” she said.

No, everything wasn’t going to be okay.
Cordray had left. She had told him she was cutting him loose.
Giving him his freedom. And yet, Trace didn’t feel free. He felt
more like a prisoner than ever.

“Why doesn’t she want me?” he said softly,
as if to himself.

“Hmm?” Sam lifted her head from his chest
and frowned at him.

He stared back. “Why is Cordray releasing me
from my community service?” Her behavior confused him. Less than
two weeks ago, she had seemed so pleased with herself that she
would be able to boss him around any time she wished, so why the
sudden change of heart?

The moment Cordray left, an emptiness had
opened inside him. That emptiness had spread inside his chest, to
his stomach, out through his limbs, making him heavy all over. So
heavy he could barely hold his head up.

Sam exchanged meaningful glances with
Micah.

“What?” he said, perking up at their bloated
silence. “What aren’t the two of you telling me?” He rubbed his
thumb up and down his sternum as that goddamn ache stirred back to
life, along with another vibration that Cordray needed him, this
one stronger than the last.

Micah groaned and scrubbed his face again.
“Damn it.”

“Tell me,” Trace said pushing upright. “What
are you keeping from me?”

Sam sighed, glanced sideways at Micah, then
looked at him. “She’s in love with you.”

“Who?”

“Cordray.”

He shook his head. How could she love him
when she pushed him away at every opportunity. He’d kissed her the
other night, and she’d practically burned a path in the carpet to
get away from him. He’d all but invited her to kiss him tonight,
and what had she done instead? Told him she was terminating his
community service.

“No, that can’t be true.”

Sam’s eyes filled with sympathy. “Micah,
tell him.”

Trace looked from Sam to Micah, who breathed
out a heavy, resigned exhale and nodded. “It’s true, Trace. As much
as I hate to admit it, it’s true. Cordray has fallen in love with
you.”

“But it’s more than that,” Sam added. “Did
you know she can’t feel?”

Trace frowned. “What are you talking about?”
From the way Cordray reacted to him, she could feel plenty.

“Until you came along,” Sam said, “she
couldn’t feel a thing. Nothing. Not even a bullet.”

“Did she tell you that?” If this were true,
it shed a whole new light on Cordray.

“She told me last night.”

He searched his memories of all the
encounters he’d had with Cordray. Of how she’d sucked in her breath
and stared at his hand on her arm the first time he touched her
outside King Bain’s courtroom. She had looked at him as if he were
an alien. And every time he’d been around her since, she seemed to
be on edge and intent on putting distance between them. He just
assumed it was because he frightened her. And maybe she
was
frightened. Not of
him
, but of how he made her feel.

He looked from Sam to Micah, seeking
confirmation even though he didn’t need it.

Micah pulled Sam back into his embrace.
“Sam’s telling the truth, buddy. Cordray couldn’t feel shit before.
But now—and only with you—she can.” His gaze fell to Trace’s hand,
which continued to rub his sternum as the ache in his chest
deepened. Micah let out a soft, reluctant snort.

“What?” Trace frowned.

Micah jerked his head toward Trace’s hand.
“You’ve mated her.”

Trace opened his mouth to protest, but no
words came out as Sam sat up and let out a startled gasp and
covered her mouth with her fingertips. He glanced down at his hand
on his chest. No way. Sure, he thought Cordray’s body was bangin’
hot. Yes, he had fantasized about how it would feel to have sex
with her. And absolutely, he missed her like crazy now that she was
gone. He wanted nothing more than to go to her
and . . .

He glanced back up as his mouth fell open.
He dropped his hand into the water.

Holy fuck. He couldn’t have. Had
he . . .? Was Cordray . . .? She was
his mate?

“Believe it, buddy.” Micah sighed. “You’re a
mated male now.” He shook his head. “Shit, there goes a perfectly
good safeword.”

His gaze collided with Micah’s as disbelief
tangled with shock. He was mated? Had he finally found his
match?

A smile began to creep over his face, relief
and joy swirling like fluttering butterflies in his stomach. He was
mated. The search was over.

Then a bolt of panic rammed into him.

He ricocheted backward against the tub.
Water sloshed over the sides as searing dread wrapped its heavy
fist around him and squeezed. He arched against the pain, gripping
the cold porcelain on either side of him, then splashed back into
the water.

Micah lurched forward. “Trace! Are you okay?
What’s wrong?”

His gaze shot around the bathroom as he
climbed out of the tub, flinging water everywhere as he stumbled on
the bath rug then dashed toward his clothes. Fear cinched his
heart. Cordray needed him. She needed him now.

“Cordray’s in trouble. My mate’s in
trouble.”

Chapter 29

After a brief but aggressive confrontation, where a
little blood might have been shed and furniture broken, Skeletor
gained the upper hand and threw Cordray face-first to the floor.
Stars and Tweety Birds broke free in her vision. Good thing she
couldn’t feel anything or this could be one fucking ugly sitch.