Masters 02 Master of the Abyss (30 page)

Silence. His face tightened as he obviously warred with his need to shelter her. His protectiveness made her feel so safe and, oddly enough, helped her stand on her own feet. A contradiction, that—like how giving away love could increase it.

He caressed her cheek with gentle fingers, then walked back up the path, leaving her in the empty clearing, alone with her memories.

“My place,” she whispered to the memory of the murderer. “I belong here. You don’t.”

When the murderer appeared again, she crossed her arms over her chest, then shrank his body to the size of a field mouse, gave him a tail and ears, and watched him scamper away. “Your balls were only mouse-sized too, you cowardly asshole,” she muttered when he returned, cudgel held high. She turned him into a mouse over and over. Then she took the sounds of her screams, of yelps, of his roar and lowered the volume until the noise of violence disappeared under the happy tumbling of the creek.

She stepped back from the horrifying sight of Virgil, helpless on the ground, and with jaw set, she substituted his laugh and groan when she’d told him that joke. Virgil’s laugh could lighten any sadness, and a second later, she grinned. If he gave her any trouble before his ribs healed, she could start telling jokes.

Finally she came to the terror of Jake fighting the monster. She let fear drip like water from her fingers to the stubbly grass, and pulled Jake’s protectiveness around her like a warm blanket.

She walked her clearing slowly, changing pain into pride. She’d done well. Her family was alive; Jake was alive. No more women would be killed.

Time passed. The moon rose until it floated high in the sky, outshining the stars. The creek’s happy gurgling made her smile once again, and the pines blessed her with a motherly shushing sound. Distant barks came from coyotes running in the moonlight. And she knew the rustling in the underbrush meant a tiny shrew, not a monster.

She was shaking again…but whole. And her sanctuary belonged to her. She opened her arms, wishing for a way to embrace a place, to somehow return the comfort it had given her over the years. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Turning, she realized she was still alone despite the passage of time. Had he gone back down the trail? Had he left her—as she’d asked? The sense of abandonment stabbed through her, and then she shook her head and laughed. Not Jake, Mr. Overprotective himself. The certainty stabilized the ground under her feet as if she’d moved from a rolling boat onto solid land. “Jake? Where are you?”

“Here.” His voice came from up the slope. A minute or two later, he appeared, walking down the tiny path. He must have gone back up the trail to leave her alone but stayed close enough to return if she needed him. Balancing her requests against his own needs.

“Thank you,” she said as he walked up to her.

The moonlight showed how his gaze took her in, studying her face, her hands, her shoulders. He smiled slowly. “You look better.”

“I am.”

“As long as we’re here, I want to talk to you without your cousins hovering over you.”

She took a step back. Friends. Nothing more. She started to shake her head.

“Can’t you trust me enough for that?”

A memory of the first time he’d asked for her trust stole into her mind: “
Can you trust me in here, surrounded by other people, to restrain you, spank you, and give you pleasure
?” Her cheeks heated, and from the way his eyebrow raised, he knew exactly what she’d thought. She straightened her shoulders. “Only to talk. I’m not going to start anything up again with you.”

“Clear enough.” He pulled a bottle of water from the side pocket of the backpack. “Drink, sprite.”

The thought of never hearing his nickname for her again hurt. She took a couple of sips and handed the bottle back, watching him drink, the sight of his strong throat as he swallowed disconcertingly sexy. He unstrapped the sleeping bag from the bottom of the pack and flipped it open.

“Sit.”

She dropped down and crossed her legs. Jake followed, and as she turned to look at him, she realized he’d positioned himself so the moonlight illuminated their faces. He not only wanted to talk but also see her reactions.

Why in the world had she agreed to stay? It would only hurt more. Already she felt her strength failing.
I can’t do this again: needing him, wanting him, losing him. No no no
. “I changed my mind. I’m going to go back down now.” She pushed up to her knees, then started to stand.

“No, you’re not. Not unless you use your safe word.” He grasped her wrist and gave her a level stare.

“Damn you, this isn’t some game. I don’t want to stay here.” She tugged, and yet she couldn’t…couldn’t use her safe word and bring an end to everything.

He cupped her chin, keeping her from moving. “Look at me, Kallie.”

Tears filled her eyes without warning, and his face softened. “Oh, sugar, don’t do that. You’ll break my heart.” He stroked his thumb over the curve of her jaw.

“Why do you keep doing this?” She met his eyes. “I still…” She smothered the rest—
still love you
—and took a gulp of air. “I know you don’t want anything serious. But I can’t do this anymore.”

“I’m damned sorry for the hurt I caused you, sprite. I was an idiot—and the coward you called me. When you said you loved me, it scared me spitless.” His grim eyes trapped her gaze. “I just couldn’t be responsible for another woman’s happiness.”

“I know,” she whispered. It didn’t help.

He brushed a wisp of hair from her face. “You see…I’d not only screwed up and had been so careless of Mimi that she had no hope, but somehow I hadn’t realized she wanted to die. I’m a dom. To know I could miss that—I couldn’t risk taking another submissive.”

She curled her fingers around his strong hand. So strong, yet he’d been hurt so badly that her heart ached for him. His protectiveness was one of the things she loved about him—here was the reverse side. “You know you didn’t miss anything, don’t you? She didn’t commit suicide. Andrew killed her.”

“I know. Now.” His face turned to stone, and rage flashed, turning his eyes to ice. “I shouldn’t have killed him so quickly.” He inhaled and exhaled in a long, controlled breath, and his gaze softened as he looked at her. “I’m sorry; I don’t mean to scare you.”

Maybe it shouldn’t have, but his anger made her feel safe. He was a warrior like Virgil, and the world held too few of them. She raised her chin. “You don’t frighten me, Hunt.”

He snorted a laugh. “You think I’d know that by now.” He rubbed his knuckles gently against her cheek and paused, his eyes on hers. “Kallie, even before I learned how Mimi died, I was already on my way to your house. For you.”

The ground underneath her seemed to tilt. No.
I don’t want this
. She’d needed his love so badly before, but not anymore. Too risky. Too much pain. “No.”

“Oh yes. You were right; I ran…and I hurt you. I’m sorry, sprite.” He looked so unhappy that he’d caused her pain; her heart broke for him. “Can you forgive me for being such a coward?”

He hadn’t wanted to hurt her—she didn’t want to hurt him now. “Of course I forgive you,” she said before thinking it through.

Lifting her hand, he kissed her palm, his lips soft, his breath warm against her skin. “Thank you.”

“Right. Well.”

He didn’t release her hand but used it to pull her closer. “Now the past is out of the way, we can move on…” After brushing his lips over hers, he deepened the kiss.

She could have kissed him all night, but eventually his words registered, and she slapped her palm on his wide chest and pushed him back. “Wait. Move on? To what?”

His lips quirked. “To the fact that I love you,” he said, his rumbling voice only a murmur but very certain. When her mouth dropped open, he smiled and took her face between his hands, holding her gaze with his as he repeated, “I love you, Kalinda Masterson.”

Hellfire, he never did anything halfway, did he?
Love
? The sweeping wonder died under the onslaught of fear. She couldn’t risk this, couldn’t stand to lose someone again. Her lip quivered, and he ran his thumb over it soothingly.

“No. I don’t want you.” She kept her hand on his chest to push him away, felt the contoured muscles, the warm skin, and wanted to stroke instead. The crisp hair scattered over his chest—she’d ruffled it once. A long, long time ago. Her breath hitched with the desire to touch, to be held.

The moonlight glimmered across his face, his hard cheekbones, shadowing the line between his brows, showing the way his eyes narrowed. “Little liar. Yes, you do.”

Shoving his hands away, she shook her head no, yet wanted to bury her face against him and cry.

Jake watched Kallie, realizing more fully how much damage he’d done when he’d pushed her away. He’d reinforced her belief that no one cared for her. Her admission that she loved him had been a gift he didn’t deserve. In fact, if she hadn’t been half-asleep, he’d never have heard the words from her.

For now, he gave her time. Reaching out, he stroked her hair as she wrestled with her old fears of abandonment and believing no one wanted her. She had good reason for her anxiety. The world came with no guarantees. And he couldn’t promise her they’d always be together. But if she risked her heart with him, every day of their life, he would show her exactly how very much he loved her.

And no matter how much she protested, she wanted to be loved so badly that it made his chest ache.

She was stuck, he realized, unable to move forward, unwilling to retreat back into her lonely space. If she’d been a different submissive—one with other problems—he might have mounted her on his cock and pressed for an answer…but she needed to come to him with both her mind and heart. “Kallie, do you love me?”

The straightforward question did it—because she couldn’t deny what they both knew. Her eyes closed, and the answer came reluctantly. “Y-yes.”

The laugh almost choked him, and her eyes popped open. “Sweetheart, you sound as if you’re admitting to kicking puppies, not telling a man you love him.”

She blinked, frowned, and then took a deep breath. “You’re right.” As he had done, she set a hand on each side of his face and stared into his eyes. “I love you, Jake Hunt.”

And there it was. A future. Hope. Love. Joy fountained through him, lifting him from the depths where he’d lived for so long, to the heights to come.
Hell of a ride.

She shivered, as if she’d opened a door, letting the air into her house, a clean, fresh,
scary
scent.

He pulled her into his lap and whispered, “Thank you, sprite.”

As he held her and stroked her back, she realized she’d been trembling. With a sigh, she relaxed. For a while they simply sat, enjoying the closeness, the sounds of the forest and creek. Eventually he stirred. “The air has cooled—let’s get into the bag.”

She stilled. Spend the night? Before she could formulate a protest, he’d pushed her to her feet and stood up. He unzipped the bag. “Hop in.”

After toeing off her boots, she bent to get in and squeaked when he gripped the neck of her shirt and pulled her upright. “I want you naked now.”

She stared up at him, at his utter self-confidence and the power radiating from him, and she swallowed. “Yes, Jake.”

He touched her face with his fingertip. “My sprite,” and the sheer satisfaction in his voice stopped her breath.

Then he stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. Excitement shot through her, and her fingers fumbled as she pulled off her clothes. The night air had chilled, and goose bumps rose on her skin; her nipples turned to tiny puckered buds. The air against her groin felt cool where she’d already grown wet. As she drew off the last sock, she stumbled. He caught her, setting her on her feet, then ran a hand over her breasts. As if he had the right.

She tried to take a step back, but he tangled his fingers in her hair, holding her in place, and deliberately palmed a breast. “My body, Kallie.” Something had changed in his manner, the way he looked at her. No longer controlling, but possessive too, as if to say,
I am your dom.

And she was his sub. The thought sent a thrill across her skin, and she answered without thinking, “Yes. Yes, Sir.”

His lips curved in pleasure—pleasure she’d given him. He released her and patted her butt. “Get in the bag.”

The inside of the bag felt like smooth ice against her skin. It would warm up quickly, but
brrr.

By the time she’d squirmed her way in, he’d removed his clothing. The firelight flickered along his body to highlight the curves of his pectorals, dance over the ridges of his abdomen, and shadow his groin, and she wanted to touch him everywhere. He sheathed himself in a condom, then slid into the bag beside her. After bunching his shirt up to serve as a pillow, he rolled onto his side.

Shivering, she inched closer; his big body gave off heat like a roaring furnace.

“Little ice cube,” he muttered and pulled her closer—a generous act if she’d ever seen one. As their legs tangled together, he ran his hands over her hips, pressing slightly, watching her face. “Any pain?”

She hissed when his fingers found the bruise from the club, and another spot on her shoulder.

“I remember the place on your back. Is that all the bad ones?”

She nodded.

“Good.” He firmly pushed her legs apart, opening her, and an intense surge of desire made her moan. His smile was hard, satisfied as he stroked her folds, finding her wet, already slick for him.

Suddenly a surge of anxiety hit her, and she grabbed his wrist, wanting—needing—to stall. Yes, she’d admitted she loved him, but now to have him inside her, surrounding her… That seemed too intense, as if it would leave all her heart and emotions vulnerable to him. If he left her…

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak or try to reassure her. He just waited, his steady gaze on hers. A minute passed, and her fears seeped away. People loved her. No one had abandoned her. And Jake would never deliberately hurt her. He loved her, and she could trust him with…everything. She sighed and smiled at him. “Mini panic attack. You made me take off my big-girl panties.”