by ML Guida
Unless you wanted to open Pandora’s box.
She carefully unwound his bandaged shirt, but not carefully enough. Skin pulled. She hissed loudly.
Can’t go slow.
She yanked. Pain slammed into her. Her breath ceased.
Shit.
She tossed her head back and squeezed her eyes shut. One, two, three––breathe.
Her breath returned. She grabbed antiseptic, cotton balls, a wash rag and butterfly bandages out of the cabinet. “This isn’t going to be fun.”
She washed the blood away. The ugly cut was long not deep. “Just do it.”
She dabbed the wound with a soaked cotton ball. She stiffened, gripping the cotton tightly while her shaking leg did the bunny hop. “Crap that stings.”
Walfea’s torn bloody shirt was crumpled on the marble tiled floor. Where had he come from? He’d be hard to miss on the trail.
Walfea must have thought she was crazy. Maybe she was, but she knew what she saw.
Forget about it.
She stripped and hopped into the shower.
Within a few minutes, she was huddled in a robe, stretched out on a recliner in the living room, watching Supernatural. The sun’s rays warmed her face and damp hair. Pine and aspen branches fluttered out the window. Tall majestic peaks dared anyone to defy them. She was so small compared to them. She had a large cup of steaming hot tea next to her. An ice pack rested on her throbbing ankle. Not much to do but watch Sam and Dean. They were both handsome, but not as intriguing and mysterious as her handsome rescuer.
They were just characters, but Walfea was real.
Her cell phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number and let it go to voice mail.
A red light immediately appeared on her phone that a message was left.
She grimaced. Her number was supposed to be unlisted, but try telling that to the stupid telemarketers.
She curled up under a blanket. The phone rang again. The same unknown number. Seriously? She rolled her eyes. The red light flashed on.
Another voicemail? The hair on the back of her neck rose and her chest tightened. What if it wasn’t a telemarketer?
The phone jingled again. She sat taller in the chair, quivering, and wrapped the blanket around her throat.
Her lungs squeezed shut. Breathe, just breathe.
It’s not him. It’s not him. It’s not him.
The phone rang again. The same damn number. The light flashed again.
Three messages.
She typed in her code to pick up the messages.
Her phone buzzed. She yelped, dropping it onto her lap. Same number. Only one person would keep calling her like this––Hector.
She shivered, and her teeth chattered as if the temperature had dropped a hundred degrees.
How did he get this number? Had someone given him the number?
She grabbed the phone and immediately called Steve.
“Hey, Skye.”
“Steve, did you give anyone my new cell number?” Her accusatory tone slapped down his happy voice
“No. Why the hell would…” His anger immediately died. “He’s got it again, doesn’t he?”
His soft voice killed her anger, and the fear rolled over her like a bulldozer. She didn’t want to be alone––too vulnerable. She needed people.
A tear rolled down her cheek. “Someone keeps calling me, but I’m not answering.”
“Where are you?” His voice was quick and sharp.
“I can’t…I can’t… tell you that.”
“Why the hell not? I’m your manager.”
“I know, Steve, but…”
“But what?” Anger and hurt spiked in his voice.
Someone beeped in again. The same damn number.
“Steve, he’s…he’s calling again.”
“Skye, I can’t help you if I don’t know where you are. If he got your cell number, he’ll be able to track you. Damn it, tell me where you are?”
She opened her mouth to tell him.
A large dark shadow crossed past the door.
Her throat and lips froze. Air hissed between clenched teeth.
“Skye, are you there?”
Her phone dinged. This time it was a text.
I don’t like being detained. The police can’t keep us apart.
He found me. He found me. He found me.
Someone pounded on the door.
Her heartbeat thrashed in her ears. She screamed.
“Skye, damn it, tell me where you are?”
She dropped the phone, flew out of the chair, crumpled to the floor. Pain shot up her leg.
He’s here. Weapon. Not happening again.
She scrambled to the kitchen on all fours.
Someone busted down the door.
Can’t breathe. White dots swirled around her eyes like spot lights.
Nononononononono.
Someone grabbed her and yanked her off the floor.
Unleashed fury exploded inside her. A wild cat attacked. She kicked, clawed, and scratched. “No. Stay away from me.”
Someone held her close against a strong chest. “Skye, what’s wrong?” A voice rumbled like thunder.
She beat her fists against walls of muscle. “Put me down, you bastard.”
“Skye. Skye. It’s Walfea. Stop. I won’t hurt you.” The calm, soft voice penetrated her fury. No Spanish accent.
She lowered her fists and gulped air. Her hair hung in her face, but through the strands, she stared into green eyes, not brown.
“Walfea?”
“Yeah.” He brushed the hair out of her eyes and held her in his arms. He lifted her onto the couch. “Are you okay? I heard you scream.”
Her phone had slid under the couch. She could hear Steve yelling, but didn’t care.
“I’m sorry.” Her thrashing heart slowed down. “I didn’t mean to scream.”
She smothered herself against his muscular chest. His slow, steady heartbeat calmed hers. She should have untangled herself from him, but his strength conquered her fear.
“Skye, answer me. Answer me.” Steve’s frantic voice had gone to a high-pitch chipmunk.
One arm around her, Walfea frowned and picked up her cell. “Who’s on the phone screaming?”
Skye took it out of his hand. “My manager. I need to talk to him.”
“Sure.” He released her, and she immediately missed his protective arms.
She glanced down and gasped. Heat flushed to her face. Shit! The robe had come loose, and one breast peeked out. She scrambled to the tie around her robe.
He bent over and picked up the blanket and ice-pack, acting as if he hadn’t noticed.
But he was a guy. Of course, he had.
“Skye.” Steve’s chirping voice forced her to look away from Walfea.
“Steve?”
She shook her head. “No, no, I’m fine.” She pushed her hair behind her ears. “False alarm. I thought…I thought it was Hector, but it was…the caretaker.”
Man of your dreams.
“You nearly gave me a fucking heart attack.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Walfea knelt in front of her and gently examined her ankle. His brushed his calloused thumb over her flesh and she shivered.
Not from pain.
But something she’d hadn’t felt for a long time.
Their eyes met, the love story stare when Hallmark characters meet for the first time. The stare when time stops, rooms get smaller, and melodies play. He mouthed sorry.
She wanted to kiss him to find out if Hallmark was right. Would their first kiss equal true love? She leaned closer, giving into her body’s responses––rapid heartbeat, blood pulsing through her, breath heavy, but a sharp shrill stopped her.
“Skye, are you there?” Steve was sputtering––about to go Daffy Duck on her.
“Steve, I’m fine. I’ve gotta go.”
“God, you need to let me know where you are.”
“If you need to get a hold of me
, Sandra knows where I’m at.” She cringed. Shit! She shouldn’t have told him that.
“Sandra? You trust her over me?”
“Bye.”
She quickly hung up.
The phone rang again. Not Steve. Same damn number.
She trembled uncontrollably.
Walfea grabbed the phone out of her hands.
“Walfea, no. Don’t––”
But he answered the phone.
“Hello?”
He frowned, the kind that would scare the pants off her if she met him in a dark alley.
“Who the hell is this?” He pulled back his upper lip. His green eyes turned darker and he grew larger. His shadow fell across her.
Her heart nearly clawed out between her ribs.
But it wasn’t a man. It was a bear.
“Fuck you.” He hung up.
His size diminished and his shadow was a man’s.
Her heartbeat returned to normal. She shook her head. No, she’d just lost her marbles.
He handed her back the phone. “Who the hell was that asshole?”
Their hands brushed, and the same desire teased her. She sat on her trembling hands to keep from throwing herself at Walfea. “Savage. Hector Savage.”
“Old boyfriend?” His soft husky voice slowly broke down her will to be a good girl and behave.
“No, not at all. He was roadie, and I had a drink with him.” She held up a finger. “Just once.” She leaned her head back on the couch. “Worst fucking choice of my life.”
Confusion clouded over his eyes. “What’s a roadie?”
“A roadie sets up and takes down our equipment. They work on the sets. Stuff like that.”
“And this Hector was a roadie? Did you do a background check?”
She glared. “I don’t personally hire the roadies. My manager and head of security does that.”
He sat next to her. “No offense. They did a piss-poor job.”
God, he smelled so good––like pine and mountain air. “The band never had any problems until now.”
He put his arm around her shoulders and stroked her hair. “He hurt you?”
Her will shook. God, he was making it so hard for her to resist. “Yeah.”
Maybe just one kiss.
“You’re safe, now. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
She studied his face. His green eyes were fierce and meant every word he said, but she knew better.
“Everyone says that, but it’s a lie. You don’t know him. How determined he is.” Her voice faded as her heart beat fiercer. She rubbed her temples to block out that horrible night.
“I’m not everyone. I used to be on a security force. So, if I say I can protect you, I can.”
She dropped her hand. “Fine.” But Steve had said the same thing. So had the cops.
But Hector wasn’t the normal run-of-the-mill villain. He was Thanos.
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
She shrugged, but kept her mouth shut.
Her phone dinged.
You know what will happen if you’re unfaithful.
“Shit! You shouldn’t have answered the phone.” Tears blurred her vision and she slammed the phone down. “You’ve made things worse.”
He snatched the phone and threw it across the room. Her pink iPhone shattered into trillions of pieces.
Desire vanished. Her heart galloped up her throat and she couldn’t breathe. Oh, Shit. He was another Hector.
“What the hell did you do?” She blurted before she thought of the consequences.
He flashed her a cocky smile. The same one Hector had given her when she misbehaved.
Holy Crap, she was isolated, alone, and vulnerable. Why had she listened to Sandra? With his large hands, he could easily snap her neck in two.
He moved toward her.
Adrenaline popped inside her. She grabbed a cushion and threw it at him. She leaped off the couch. Pain slammed into her ankle, and she dropped like a rock.
Strong arms caught her.
Trapped.
She snagged another pillow and hit him in the face.
“Will you stop? Shades, you’re worse than a pissed off squirrel.”
“Put me down. Why do you keep saying Shades?”
“Shades is a name of a god.”
She frowned. “It is?”
“And no. I’m taking care of a problem.” His flippant answer made her want to smack him in the face with thousands of pillows.
“By destroying my phone?” She wiggled in his arms.
“I have another one for you.”
“Excuse me?” She swung her palm.
But he easily caught her wrist. “Now, that’s not very nice.”
“Let go of me!” She struggled to breathe and kicked her feet.
“I won’t hurt you.” His grip was powerful, but he wasn’t hurting her. “If you’ll stop acting like a pissed off grizzly, I’ll release you.”
She sucked in air and slowly stopped struggling. “Fine.”
He immediately released her wrist–something that Hector never would have done.
“He won’t be able to contact you.” His voice rumbled. No, it was more of a growl.
“Like I’ve never heard that before.” She crossed her arms. “Walfea, I need a phone. People will be worried. I have an agent, a manager, a band. Don’t you get it? I have a career.” She gritted her teeth. “I’m not going to give up everything I worked so hard for because of Hector.”
“I’ll get you another phone.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you think I’ve gotten new phones, new numbers? I’m not an idiot.”
“Never said you were.”
He just knocked the wind out of her rant.
“No matter what I do, the bastard’s able to call me.”
Walfea’s face darkened. “Not anymore.”
For one single minute, she thought he could handle him. “Who do you think you are? My bodyguard?”
“Yes.” He flashed her a winning grin.
“I didn’t hire you.”
“No, but Sandra asked me to look after you.”
She lifted her chin. “I can look after myself.” A total lie, but she hated being a victim.
“Apparently, Sandra thinks otherwise. Look, you’re a mess. You need my help.”
Skye wasn’t going to give in that easy. “And how can you do what the cops haven’t been able to do?”
“First of all, I’m going to give you a new phone.”
“Didn’t you just hear what I said? Done that. Doesn’t work.”
His grin vanished. “I’m right here. You don’t have to shout.”
“I’m sorry.”
He headed toward the French doors.
She squirmed. “What are you doing? I can’t go out of the house dressed only in a robe, Genius.”
“Relax, we’re just going to the caretaker’s house.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
He held her with one arm as he opened one of the French doors. “To get you your new phone.”
He was strong, incredibly Hulk-strong. “You have one just lying around the house, especially for me.”
“Actually, I do.”
Great. Another He-Man who thought he had all the answers.
Chapter 5
Walfea carried a silent Skye Carr down to his simple cottage. Sunlight reflected off her red-hair and her vanilla scent made his cock stand at attention. But that wasn’t the only thing that made him want to take her on a soft bed of grass.
Earlier her robe had slid open. He’d glimpsed a creamy breast, the budded nipple begging for his lips to suck it. If she had been an Arian, she’d be flat on her back, enjoying his attentions.
But she wasn’t.
“Why hasn’t Hector been imprisoned?”
“Wouldn’t know. Not my call.” Her tone was icier than space.
He’d no road map on how to navigate an Earth’s woman’s many moods, but smashing her phone obvious
ly had veered him off the track.
The star on her delicate wrist glowed. She wouldn’t see it until she consented to be his mate. And she would consent.
But it wouldn’t be easy.
He’d single-handedly wedged a gulf between them farther than the Grand Canyon.
She rubbed her swollen ankle.
“I’ll look after your ankle again.”
She nodded but kept silent. Her once soft warm body was frigid and frosty.
His gut twisted the guilty acid burning through his stomach walls. “I’m sorry I broke your phone.”
“Sorry isn’t going to buy me a new one.”
He raised his eyebrow. “Not the forgiving type, are you?”
“Not anymore.”
Patio furniture with stuffed seat covers and pots stuffed with all kinds of flowers were all over the deck. He’d no idea what kind they were but they smelled good.
“Do you want to sit out here while I get your new phone?”
She shrugged. “I guess.” Her voice cut out the hope that he’d be able to mend the gulf.
“You look a little gray. Would you like something to drink or eat?”
“Wine. Red wine would be perfect.” Her voice thawed a little.
His heart jumped for joy. “Wine, it is.” He was as giddy as cub ready to play outside.
He lowered her onto a lounge chair that was in the shade.
“No, I’d like to be in the sun.”
“Sure.” He easily sat her down on a chair that had a foot stool.
“Thank you,” she muttered.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” He winked. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Her frown turned his hope into a rainy day.
She folded her arms across her chest. “Like I can with my throbbing ankle.”
She wasn’t fooling him. Skye wasn’t a doormat and would do anything to survive.
He quickly went inside and poured her a glass of wine. He sighed with relief as she was still sitting on the deck. He handed her the glass.
“Thank you. What about the phone?” Her Captain Tash tone sent him running.
“I’ll be back with it along with a bottle of wine.”
Within a few minutes, he was back on the porch with her. He refilled her glass.
“Thank you. You really have a nice view of the mountains and forest.”
Another thaw.
“I do. I’m going to program your phone for you.”