Wyatt shifted at her side, taking his human form, grateful he’d grabbed their jackets. He still held them in his hand when he shifted. After shrugging into his, he dropped to her side, set a hand on her back, and stroked her fur. For a while, he did nothing but pet her, inching toward her head until he smoothed her soft pale fur back from her eyes. “Paige.”
She didn’t move or acknowledge him in any way.
He wasn’t sure what to do. She was in shock and much too large to carry in her bear form. “Paige, I need you to shift.”
Nothing.
“Babe, I know it’s hard. I know you’re hurting, but I need you to shift so I can get you down the mountain.” He glanced around, assessing exactly where they were and how far he would have to hike if he could get her to transform. Totally doable. Not more than a few miles, and she was so tiny in her human form.
Seconds turned into minutes. He continued to soothe her. And then he tried again. “Paige, it’s cold out here. I know you don’t care, but I can’t leave you here. I won’t. I’ll never leave you. Shift for me. I won’t ask any questions. I just need to get you off this mountain.”
She blinked her eyes open, held his gaze, and then exhaled a long breath. But she finally complied. As her body took its time converting to human form, Wyatt removed his hand from her fur and leaned back. Fifteen seconds later, she lay curled on her side, looking much smaller than she was, cold, shivering, wet, shut off from him.
But it was enough. He’d gotten through to her enough to get her to shift. He reached for her limp, unresponsive body, lifted her into his arms, and cradled her against his chest. She was freezing. He wrapped her jacket around her. As he stood, she leaned her head against his shoulder. He wasn’t sure she was aware of what was happening, but he cherished the moment anyway and started the arduous walk back to civilization.
While he headed down the mountain, he reached out to his father. “Dad, need your help.”
“What is it, son?”
“Can you send someone over to Paige’s apartment to tell Gavin that Paige is with me? She’s safe. I don’t want him to worry.”
“Of course. I’ll have your mom go. Is everything okay?”
“No, but it will be. Someday.”
“All right. Anything else?”
“Yeah, I won’t be at work tomorrow. Cover for me?”
“You know I will. Let me know if I can do anything else.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
It was going to take a while to get down this mountain, and then Wyatt assumed it was going to take even longer to get into his mate’s mind and help her.
Chapter Ten
It was dark when Paige opened her eyes, confused and shivering. In seconds her vision adjusted to the lack of light, and she realized she was in Wyatt’s house, on his bed, under a blanket, but still cold.
The second thing she noticed was that Wyatt was sitting next to her, his back against the headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him so that his thigh was near her face. He wasn’t touching her, but he was close.
“You’re back,” he whispered.
She slowly rolled onto her back from the tight ball she’d been in, staring at the ceiling and tucking the blanket higher up her body. She was stiff. Her entire body hurt from running too hard and then lying in a fetal position.
Wyatt leaned forward and reached for another blanket from the end of the bed while she watched in her peripheral vision. As he draped it over her, he spoke again. “You’re so cold. You’ve been shivering for hours. I…” He hesitated. “I would have held you, but I thought you might wake up flailing. You kept kicking off the blankets. When you feel up to it, I’ll run you a hot bath.”
She swallowed. A tear slid down her cheek. His kindness. His thoughtfulness. The way he knew exactly what she needed when she’d been nothing but a royal pain in the ass since she met him. It tugged at her soul. It burrowed in deep. It was thawing her hardened heart even in this crisis.
“What can I do, babe? You want me to call someone? Maybe your parents? Gavin? He must be worried. If you won’t talk to me, at least talk to him.” He sighed.
She knew it pained him to make the suggestion, but it was also the most valiant gesture he could have made. He would do anything for her, including turn her over to the hands of another man for comfort if it meant she would feel better. “Hold me.” The words came out so softly she wasn’t sure he heard. But he did. Or else she managed to communicate the wish in his mind also.
He eased closer, slid under the blankets, and pulled her body toward his until her back nestled against his front.
She warmed from the chill that reached her bones. Deep breaths. She still shook almost violently, but the cold gradually slid from her body until it was manageable.
She glanced around his bedroom for the first time, trying to concentrate on slowing her breathing. The same color scheme as the great room extended to his bedroom. The comforter was a patchwork of oranges and browns. The walls were painted a deep rich chocolate that might have made the room look smaller, but instead soothed her. His furniture was all stained so dark it reminded her of coffee.
She inhaled long and slow, in part to steady her racing heart, in part to bring his pheromones into her body. Calming.
Wyatt held her head against his biceps, his other arm wrapped around her middle under her breasts. He’d tossed one leg over both of hers. She couldn’t be any closer in their fully clothed state. When he flattened his hand and smoothed it up her body between her breasts and cupped her face, she let out a sob. “You’re not going to leave me?”
“Never.”
“You’re going to wait?”
“Forever.”
She dipped her face into his palm, finding comfort from another human being after years of not permitting anything of the sort from anyone. Even Gavin was permitted only small pieces of her and usually in an effort to pretend they were a couple. Rarely in private did she allow him to touch her and never this tightly.
Her parents had touched her of course, but for over a decade, even they had been shut out to a certain extent. She had given them enough to keep them from being suspicious, but every time she hugged one of them, she held her breath until the normal expression of love was complete.
For a long time, they just lay there, Wyatt stroking her cheek and the soft skin beneath her ear. He waited with the patience of a saint.
“I was fourteen when it happened,” she began, not even realizing she was going to spill her life secret to him yet.
He may have flinched, but not much. Still giving her what she needed.
“He was a student at U of C. He was in my mother’s class. I used to hang out in her room or in her office sometimes after school. I was old enough to stay home alone, of course, but I liked being there. It made me feel older to hang with my parents.”
Wyatt still cupped her face, but he stopped stroking her skin.
“I flirted with him. I flirted with lots of guys. They were so much older. Most of them smiled or teased me cautiously, but they never said much. They wouldn’t dare risk their education by making advances on the teacher’s kid.
“I was probably kidding myself anyway. Why would any of them actually be interested in a girl my age? It was preposterous. But it was innocent and fun. And I played the game well. I knew I was pretty. I could tell by the looks men and boys had given me from a young age. By fourteen, I was almost fully grown, filled out, curvy in the right places. With my blonde hair and blue eyes, I knew I was attractive,” she repeated.
How she managed to spill all this as if it were no big deal after keeping it buried so deeply for so many years was a mystery. But once the words started flowing, they just kept coming. “He followed me after class one day. I was heading home. I had told Gavin I would meet him. We had a tree house our fathers had helped us build in the wooded area behind the homes.” She smiled for the first time at the memory of a place she had not returned to in ten years.
She had love
d that hideout. Until that day. “Gavin was late. Not his fault. He just was.”
Wyatt gently kissed her shoulder, his lips a soothing balm she was shocked to appreciate.
Deep breaths. “At first I didn’t realize he was still following me. And then I thought it was kind of heady that he found me interesting enough to bother. I was stupid. I was a kid. I didn’t know my actions were so idiotic. I led him right to the tree house, pretending I didn’t know he was behind me.”
Wyatt’s fingers stroked her cheek again. So much kindness. He held her tighter.
“The moment I stepped inside, he lunged at me, grabbing me and throwing me to the floor. I’ve never been so scared in my life. He covered my mouth with his hand before I could scream or even suck in a breath. A crazy man. Nothing like the guy I’d been flirting with after class.” She swallowed, pulling herself together.
“You don’t have to finish if you don’t want to.”
She shook her head in his grasp. “No. I do.”
“Okay.” His body was stiffer. This was going to hurt him. But he would listen. And then she would know if he could live with her haunted past or not. She needed to know. She needed to look into his eyes and know if he felt pity or anger or sorrow or disgust. In fact, she wiggled free of him and twisted to sit up next to him.
She stared down at his face as he leaned his head on his palm and met her gaze. “Whatever you need, babe. I’m here. Tell me now, or tell me later, or tell me never. I’m here.”
Another tear. It slid down her face so slowly it seemed as though time stalled.
Wyatt reached up to rub it away with the pad of his thumb. He slid his hand down her shoulder and then her arm until he could grasp her hand. He kissed her knuckles and then held her hand tight against his chest. “Tell me.”
Did he realize that was the path she needed?
Now that she’d adjusted fully to the lack of light, and because she could see much better than regular humans in the dark, she could easily read his expression and the devotion in his eyes. A deep inhale, and then, “He smashed his palm against my mouth, keeping me from crying out, although it wouldn’t have done any good since no one was nearby to hear me.
“With his free hand, he reached for my crotch and cupped it. I thought I would die right then. No boy had ever touched me like that. I had only recently come into the realization that I might like someone to. In seconds, his hand slid from my crotch to the button of my pants. He jerked them so hard the button went flying, yanked the zipper down, and then tugged my pants down my hips.
“I fought as hard as I could, but he was so much larger and stronger than me. I didn’t stand a chance. Before I knew it, my panties were ripped off, and I was naked from the waist down.”
Wyatt swallowed. His eyes were watery, but he didn’t release the grip on her hand at his heart. It was poignant that her palm covered his heart.
“When he released my mouth, I screamed, but he slapped me so hard against my butt that I froze from the shock and the pain. He hissed at me, telling me he would kill me if I made a single sound. I couldn’t breathe, let alone speak or scream. Before I knew it, he yanked me onto my hands and knees. He demanded that I spread my legs for him.
“I was crying silently, unable to make any rational decisions. My nose was clogged. My vision blurred. My throat was dry.” She glanced away from Wyatt for a moment, reliving the feelings. “Funny. I can still recall all of those parts so vividly. The way he smelled of sweat and filth and alcohol. The way my ears seemed to be muffled so that everything he said came from far away. My face was hot and streaked with tears, but I stopped feeling touch.”
Wyatt wasn’t breathing. His lips were pursed when she looked back at him. She needed to get this all out.
“I know his hands grabbed my hips because there were bruises on them the next day, purple enough that even my shifter blood hadn’t healed them yet. I know he kicked my knees apart farther because they were bloody from the rough wood of the floor. But the only particular pain I felt from that moment on was the moment he thrust into me. Blinding insane pain so unimaginable I left my body and hovered above myself while he raped me.”
Why was it suddenly so easy to tell this story as if it had happened to someone else after a decade of keeping it buried? Paige had no idea, but she kept going. There was no other choice.
“I lost track of time, but I don’t think it took too long before he came. I only know this because the evidence was in my pants later when I took them off again. When he was finished, he released me, slapped my ass again hard, and then jumped to his feet while I curled into a ball. I didn’t have the ability to cry tears by that point. I was numb. Dead. I wished I had died. It would have been so much easier if he had killed me.” Every emotion she’d felt in that moment flooded back into her system, dragging her back in time to almost paralyze her with fear. She fought to stay in the present.
Wyatt’s face flinched, the only sign he wasn’t holding it together as well as he appeared outwardly. She knew she was hurting him worse than any human should ever endure, but there weren’t other options. He had to know this about her. He had to be able to make an informed decision before he continued to put all his effort into wooing her.
“I didn’t open my eyes, but I was aware of him as he pulled his jeans back up and zipped them. He was still hissing at me, making demands that got louder. If I told anyone, he would kill them. If I called the police, he would kill me. If I told my parents, he would kill them.”
She needed to let the last important detail out. She did it in a whisper. “If I told anyone, he would kidnap my little faggot friend, rape him too, stab him several times, and leave him to die a slow death in the woods.”
For a moment, neither of them breathed or moved. Neither of them blinked.
That was it. It was over. It was the hardest thing she’d ever done, but now that it was out there, she felt a certain sense of peace. No matter what happened, even if Wyatt couldn’t live with the knowledge that she was broken and soiled, at least she had purged some of the pain.
When she finally let out a slow breath, Wyatt moved. He released her hand, pulled himself to sitting, and lifted her onto his lap. He held her so tightly, she thought she might break a bone.
She let him, but his actions brought out another emotion just when she thought it was all over. Pain. Deep horrendous pain for the little girl’s lost innocence. Tears fell. Two of them. And then four and six and eight and hundreds. Sobs. Deep wracking sobs that shook her body and blinded her and made her throat hurt. Her nose ran.
She had never let herself feel this pain before. Not that night or later that week. Never. She had snuck into the house, beating her parents home, thrown the clothes in the trash, and showered for an hour. Unable to move a muscle afterward, she’d climbed into bed where her mother found her later and accepted the notion that Paige had a stomach bug.
There was no way to milk that idea for more than a day because shifters could heal quickly even in human form, but she forced herself to pull her shit together, blocked the entire thing, begged Gavin never to mention it again, and shut herself off emotionally from any other beings. For the rest of her life.
Until today. Until now. Until someone loved her enough to take a chance on her and forced her to trust him with her heart.
Until she saw that photo of her attacker in the home of Allister and Beth Tarben. Their oldest son.
Chapter Eleven
A piece of Wyatt died while he listened to his mate tell her story. He’d known something had happened to her. He had never once imagined it had been this bad.
The woman in his arms was the strongest woman he’d ever known. And she’d finally trusted him enough to reveal her darkest day on Earth.
As she gripped him with her fists to hold on to some piece of reality, he held her as tightly as he dared without crushing her. She cried. She even screamed, letting the pain out. Her tears soaked his T-shirt, and her hair hung in matted clumps around her neck.
He couldn’t see her face, but he knew it was swollen and red. Her eyes would be bloodshot. At one point in her frustration, she beat her fists against his chest, and then she gripped his shirt again, balling it in her small hands. Her body was wracked with deep horrifying sobs.
She cried for over half an hour.
He could do nothing but wait, holding her, stroking her hair, cupping her head with his palm. Giving her nonverbal reminders that he was there and would be for the rest of her life. The road ahead was going to be tough. There were hurdles.
For one thing, he knew for certain that Antoine Tarben had been her rapist. If he were honest, he’d known that from the moment she dropped the picture in Antoine’s parents’ home. He hadn’t wanted it to be true. He’d prayed for something else, anything else. But he’d known. And he needed to convince her to let him turn this in to the Arcadian Council. It wouldn’t change anything. Antoine was already in custody and would be for life, but there would be others who came forward, and the council needed to be informed each time.
Another hurdle would be the way she had shut herself off from the world. She had never dated. And he closed his eyes against the real possibility that her one and only sexual experience had been at the hands of a madman ten years ago. A painful experience that would have left behind its physical reminders for days and then its emotional reminders for years. Ten of them.
There was a good chance she had healed physically. She would have been fully grown at fourteen, and she had shifter blood to speed the healing process, but he couldn’t know for sure yet.
So many questions raced through his mind. What role had Gavin played? Wyatt had the impression Gavin knew the details, but how? And what kind of man let his friend live with that much pain without telling anyone?
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