by Maya Banks
Slowly she shook her head. “Let me get cleaned up first, Nathan. It looks worse than it is right now. There’s no sense you getting worked up. After I shower, you can see.”
He frowned. It was likely the opposite was true. It was worse than he thought, and she wanted time to clean up to try to make it look better.
“I’ll be waiting when you get out,” he murmured. “I have a first aid kit in the jeep. I’ll get it while you’re in the bathroom.”
SHEA stood under the spray, eyes closed, her brow creased in pain. She’d scrubbed the blood and dirt from her body, but there was nothing she could do about the bruises.
Her legs shook uncontrollably. She’d barely been able to soap her hair because her hands quaked so violently. Reaction had set in and she was a hot mess.
Falling apart.
The horror of the last days hit her like a ton of bricks. She should be jubilant. She should be relieved. She was free. She was safe. Nathan was with her. He’d protect her.
Instead, tears rolled down her cheeks and her knees threatened to give out. She covered her face and tried to control the sobs that bubbled from her chest.
Strong arms came around her. The water turned off, and she stood dripping wet and hiccupping as sob after sob es-
caped.
Nathan pulled away long enough to wrap a towel around her shaking body and then he lifted her into his arms.
“It’s okay, baby,” he murmured against her forehead. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”
He set her on the bed then pulled the blanket around her. He kissed her temple. The top of her head. He rained kisses down on her face. Her eyes. Her cheeks.
She turned her face into his neck and burrowed into his warmth. And his strength.
For the longest time he merely held her as silent sobs spilled from her chest. He caressed her hair, ran his hand down her blanket-covered body and simply sat in silence while he waited for her to collect herself.
She loved that he didn’t seem to fall apart at her distress. Or that he didn’t demand to know what was wrong so he could fix it. He acted like he understood.
When her sobs diminished to soft puffs of air and the shaking ceased, he pulled her carefully away from his body and stared down into her eyes.
Without a word, without asking permission, he slid the covers down her arms, baring her flesh to his sharp gaze.
Though there was nothing sexual in his assessment, she was achingly aware that his gaze tracked over her naked body.
He pulled at the towel, his hands gentle and nonthreatening. He touched every bruise, his expression fierce. His fingers brushed over the cuts and scrapes she’d collected in her flight through the forest.
The more he discovered, the blacker his expression became. Then he turned her and sucked in his breath at the jagged cut on her thigh.
He grasped her arms and turned her back to meet the fury in his eyes.
“What the hell did they do to you, Shea? And don’t tell me nothing.”
She closed her eyes against the sudden burn of tears. Damn it, she’d only just managed to stop crying and now she was weepy again. A mess. An emotional mess.
“They wanted me to tell them about Grace,” she choked out. “I refused. You can guess the rest.”
He cupped her jaw and feathered his thumb across her cheek and then her lips. “Tell me.”
“They beat me, okay? They held me down and they meted out a very calculated, unemotional beating meant to break me. When that didn’t work, they refused to give me water or food and then they beat me again.”
Tears streaked down her cheeks. Nathan’s face had whitened. His eyes looked tortured, dark and frightfully cold. His hand shook on her face and he looked very much like she felt.
“And the cut on your leg? How did you get it?”
She glanced down and her stomach revolted as the memory of what she’d done came back with startling clarity. Pain snaked down her leg, phantom pain, as if she were enduring the knife slicing her skin all over again.
“They implanted a tracking device. When I escaped, I knew I had to cut it out so they couldn’t find me so easily.”
“Son of a bitch!” he cried hoarsely. “My God, Shea.”
To her shock, his eyes glittered with tears and grief. For her. She swallowed painfully, overcome at the emotion that shone on his face.
“My God, baby, what you went through. It makes me sick. You’ve already been through so much for me. Why didn’t you call for me before now? I could have helped you. There was no need for you to have gone through any of this. I would have helped you. You have to know that.”
She turned her face so that her lips brushed over his palm. She cupped her hand over his and kissed the rough skin. Then she trailed her hand up his arm, crossing over the scars that marred the once smooth flesh.
She touched every one and glanced up at him to see his reaction. He looked sick, like he wanted to pull away from her. She could tell he didn’t want her touching him, drawing attention to the scars that crisscrossed his body. How many more were there that she hadn’t yet seen?
“You had already endured more than any human should ever endure,” she said softly. “You needed time to heal. To go home and be with your family again. You needed to learn to live again, to want to live. I couldn’t ask you to help me when you needed so much more than I did.”
He flinched when she put her fingers to the scar on the side of his neck. He tried to turn away, but she levered herself up and cupped her hand over the puckered flesh.
“Don’t hide from me, Nathan. Don’t hide your scars from me. I more than anyone know how you received them. They aren’t ugly. They’re beautiful. Honorable. Signs of courage and of unflagging determination.”
He caught her hand and slid it down his neck to his shoulder before holding it there firmly in place. Then he leaned until his forehead touched hers and their lips were tantalizingly close.
“How is it possible that you’re more beautiful in person than you were as an angel in my mind when I was in that hell. I didn’t think it was possible and yet here you are, so fucking exquisite that I can’t even talk around the damn knot in my throat.”
He pulled the towel all the way from her body and then laid her gently back on the bed. He touched every bruise and then, to her shock, he put his mouth to one. Then another. He pressed gentle kisses to every hurt, to every ache.
Chill bumps raced across her skin, puckering her nipples into tight points. Her heart constricted as he moved meticulously down her body, lavishing sweet loving attention on her wounds.
It was a delicious mixture of arousal and emotional fulfillment. It wasn’t overtly sexual, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t achingly aware of his every touch.
She’d never felt so cared for in her life.
“Beautiful. So beautiful,” he whispered. “Mine.”
She shivered at the quiet vow. His. Yes, she was his. He was hers. That decision had been made the moment she’d first heard his call.
When he got to the cut on her thigh, he pulled back and hauled the first aid kit from the floor onto the bed. With a touch so light she barely felt it, he cleaned and dressed the wound. After he finished taping the bandage, he lifted her just enough to lay her on the pillows and then he pulled the blankets to cover her naked body.
He bent down and kissed her forehead. “Get some sleep, Shea. You’re exhausted and you’re going to need your strength.”
“Where are you going?” she asked fearfully.
He kissed her again. “I’m not leaving you. I’ll be back. I just need to take care of a few things. We’ll both get some rest and we’ll travel tonight when the chances of you being spotted are fewer.”
CHAPTER 17
NATHAN paced the confines of the motel room, occasionally glancing at the bed where Shea slept. He was about to crawl out of his skin. She lay still, curled into a ball as if she were trying to protect herself even in sleep.
That was his job now
. She was no longer going to go it alone. It pissed him off that she’d been alone for as long as she had.
He had to think. Shea feared discovery above all else, and she’d absolutely be against him calling in his family. But how could he not? He had no idea what he was facing, and his priority was keeping her safe no matter how he had to do it.
The logical thing to do would be to call his brothers for help. They couldn’t very well think him crazy now if he produced a real live woman.
The irrational part of him didn’t want to share Shea with anyone. He wanted her with him. He needed her. He didn’t want to have to deal with intrusions, and his brothers would most certainly be intrusive.
But he couldn’t do this alone. If it were just him in danger, he’d face it head on and kick some ass. But he didn’t want Shea exposed or hurt in any way. She’d suffered enough, and it was high time someone took care of her like she seemed to take care of the world around her.
He checked all his weapons, laid a knife on the nightstand beside his Glock. Then he propped a chair underneath the doorknob. Afterward he dragged the small table over to the window so that no one would have clear entry into the room.
Shea was probably starving. She hadn’t eaten much before when he’d grabbed a sandwich from a convenience store deli. She’d picked at it while they drove. When she woke, he’d make sure she ate better. Then they’d talk about their next move and his desire to call in his brothers. Hell, he’d just put her on the jet and fly back home. How better to protect her than to have her right in the middle of all the Kellys?
He rubbed his face. But he couldn’t do that to his family. He couldn’t just open them up to an unknown enemy. Nor could he expose Shea and her abilities to so many others, even if he trusted them more than anyone else.
He’d call Sam. He’d know what to do. Just as soon as he talked it over with Shea. They needed help. She couldn’t dispute that.
He glanced toward her again, his vision fuzzing with fatigue. There was nothing else for him to do until she woke up, and if he didn’t get any sleep, he wasn’t going to be any good to her.
He dug into his bag for a clean pair of boxers and a T-shirt. Then after another look in her direction to make sure she was still sleeping, he turned his back to undress.
He quickly shed his clothing and pulled on the clean boxers. He picked up the new T-shirt to pull it on, when he heard a sound from the bed.
He jerked around, still holding the shirt to his chest to see Shea staring at him with stricken eyes. Her gaze was riveted to the scars that covered his body.
Shame crowded in that she’d see him, his ugliness, his marks of weakness.
“I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice. “I didn’t think you were awake.”
She shook her head. When he started to retreat to the bathroom, she held up her hand. “No. Don’t go.”
He stood a moment, the shirt clenched tight in his fists. “I don’t want you to see.”
She sat up, holding the sheet to her breasts. “See what, Nathan? I’ve seen you at your worst. There’s nothing you can show me that will shock me.”
Her expression was so fierce, almost angry. He was rooted to the spot, unsure of what to do. Hit the bathroom? Hurry up and finish dressing? He felt exposed and he didn’t like it one bit.
“Come here, Nathan,” she said softly.
His brow furrowed.
“Please.”
He hesitated but then walked toward the bed. He still held the shirt to his chest when he eased onto the edge beside her.
She leaned forward and the sheet slipped down enough that he caught a glimpse of the plump swells of her breasts. The dark imprint of her nipple tantalized him from underneath the thin sheet.
She tugged gently at his T-shirt until he reluctantly allowed her to pull it away. Then to his surprise, she let the sheet fall from her chest as she got to her knees and edged toward him.
Heat flushed through his body, tightening his groin. He couldn’t quite breathe right. Nothing he did seemed to pull enough air into his lungs. Even bruised and fragile, she was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in his life. It took all his restraint not to pull her into his arms and make love to her.
It didn’t matter that, until a few hours ago, he’d never actually seen her before. She went deeper than physical attraction. He wasn’t even sure what he felt was physical. It was emotional. She belonged inside him. Deep. The kind of emotion you didn’t ever get rid of.
He shivered when she placed her palms on his chest, right over two gnarled ridges of skin. To his further shock, she pushed until he was forced to recline on the bed. She hovered over him, her eyes glowing. Then she lowered her head and pressed her lips to a scar over his shoulder.
He sucked in his breath, shocked when she slid her mouth lower to the next scar, beside his collarbone. And then just as he’d kissed every bruise, every scrape and every hurt on her body, she kissed each of his scars.
He stared in wonder as she kissed the line next to his navel. Then she dropped lower, sliding off the bed to kneel so she could reach the scars on his legs.
When she reached his feet, she kissed the top of his foot, carefully tracing the puckered scar that curved to his toes.
Her touch was light and so tender that he ached. He had no idea how to respond to such unselfishness. There were no words that could have convinced him that she wasn’t repulsed by his body. But her sweet, loving kisses convinced him when nothing else could.
“You don’t repulse me, Nathan.”
For a moment he’d forgotten that she could slide into and out of his mind. She would have sensed his doubt. His fear.
She crawled back onto the bed and knelt at his side, staring down at him as she slid her fingers over the scars on his belly and chest.
“How could you? Every scar is a testament to your strength and your will to live. They’re beautiful. Like you.”
Placing both hands on his chest, she leaned down. Their gazes locked, and he realized she meant to kiss him. Every part of his body and soul reached for her, strained for her, wanting her touch with a need that verged on obsession.
She licked her lips just before she pressed them to his. It was a little nervous gesture that melted his heart.
He reached up to frame her shoulders and he kissed her back, no longer bothering to hide the fact that he wanted her more than he wanted to breathe. He’d already pretty much given up breathing for her.
Their lips fused hotly. They fit. So goddamn perfect. Her body molded softly to his. Such a contradiction. Softness to his hardness. Smooth to his rough. Perfection against imperfection.
He wrapped his arms around her and slid his hands up her body. He massaged the plump globe of her behind while his other hand stroked up her spine and into the silk of her hair.
“If you had any idea how many nights I lay dreaming of this. Of you,” he whispered hoarsely.
Her breasts pushed into his chest. Her nipples rubbed erotically through the smattering of hair and they puckered into hard points.
“I’ve dreamed of you too, Nathan. Of us. Like this. I feel like I’ve known you for so long. Like I’ve been waiting for this moment.”
He wrapped one arm tightly around her and rolled until she was underneath him, his knee wedged between her thighs. Then he kissed her. Like he’d been wanting to from the moment he heard her voice again.
He devoured her mouth. Hungry. So damn hungry. She was a missing piece of himself and now he had her back. After he’d felt so damn empty for such a long time, the sudden sense of completion threatened to unhinge him.
“I have to make love to you, Shea.”
It was a demand, a request and a plea all wrapped up in one simple statement.
She cupped his face in her hands and stared up at him, her eyes as hungry as his. “Yes, Nathan. Yes.”
He claimed her mouth again as he settled between her thighs, his cock bursting through the material of his boxers. As badly as he wanted to bury himse
lf as deep and as hard inside her as he could get, he forced himself to hold back. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her. This had to be perfect. As perfect as she was.
He kissed her neck, inhaling her scent, wanting it imprinted on his brain. He never wanted to forget how she smelled, how she felt in his arms, her body covered by his.
Then he slid his mouth down over her collarbone and lower to the satiny plumpness of her breasts. She sighed and arched into him when he claimed one of her nipples.
So velvety. Plush. He loved the feel of her in his mouth. Loved her taste and how she went so soft every time he sucked at the taut nub.
He ached to touch her but he hated to put his hands on the softest, most sensitive places of her body. She was fragile. His hands were rough. Fingers calloused. Scars on the back sides. The contrast of such ugliness to such beauty turned his stomach.
Her gaze softened and she reached down for his hands, bringing them to her breasts. She cupped his hands over the mounds and then rubbed her fingers up his arms to his shoulders.
“Touch me, Nathan. Make me yours. I want your hands on me. Your mouth. You’re so perfect.”
He shook his head. “Perfect? Hell, Shea, you’re the perfect one. So goddamn beautiful. Look at me. Really look at me. I look like some damn jigsaw puzzle. I look like fucking Frankenstein’s monster and here I am acting like I have the right to touch you.”
She rose up, curled her arms around his neck and pulled until their faces were just inches from each other. “I gave you the right. You’re not a monster. I wouldn’t care if you were. I think you’re perfect. Just so perfect. You came for me. You saved me. You kissed me like I was the most precious thing in the world.”
“You are,” he whispered. “You’re the most precious thing in my world.”
“Then make love to me. I’ve waited so long.”
He reached down to push his boxers away. He kicked impatiently at the material until it fell to the floor. She parted her thighs farther and slid her legs along his before wrapping her slender limbs around his.
His dick was so rigid that he groaned. It slid between her thighs, rubbing along her tender folds. He reached between them and gently parted her flesh. His thumb found her sweet heat as he positioned himself at her opening.