Dance for Me

by Kay Elle Parker

  Bodie’s lip trembled. “I’m sorry for that. I don’t see—”

  “They walked into their house after they’d beaten you to death—or so they thought. Covered in your blood, laughing. Celebrating your death. If you have any thoughts of sympathy for them, don’t. They were high on the rush of thinking you were dead, and your father started on Alicia.”

  Maybe she was wrong, thinking she could handle this. Whatever he said next was going to shred her, she could tell from the look in his eyes. Today was the day she’d have to rebuild her entire world from the scorched earth beneath her feet.

  “She shot and killed them both, then called the police. I’ve kept in touch with the detectives who are in charge of the case, and who have taken yours on as well due to the connection. Alicia’s cooperated with them from the start, and everything she’s said adds up. It doesn’t appear like any charges will be brought against her.” He reached out and took her hand. “She asked one of the detectives if he’d seen you yet. She asked if he would tell you that she loves you, and she misses you. She’d like to see you, Bodie.”

  Do not cry. Stay strong. “W-Where did she get a gun from?”

  “Abraham had stashes around the house in case retribution from people he pissed off came back to bite his ass at home. Alicia feared for her safety; she took one and hid it in a pocket in her wheelchair. By all accounts, she’s as smart as her big sister. Maybe not quite as temperamental.”

  Bodie squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t need to imagine what kind of abuse her baby sister had suffered all these years—she’d experienced it herself firsthand. Her heart snapped in two for what Alicia must have gone through; at least Bodie had been able to walk away from it when she was old enough, to an extent. “Where is she now? Is she okay?”

  “She was discharged from hospital yesterday. She’s going to be fine, Bodie.”

  She shook her head. “No, she’s not. She’s stuck in a damn wheelchair. How the fuck is she supposed to survive on her own? My parents won’t have taught her how to do anything, how to live in the outside world.”

  Atticus smiled. “Well, lucky for her, your Dominant seems to have a soft spot for rescuing McGee girls. Connie and Loki picked her up once she was discharged, and Connie’s taken Alicia under her wing like the mother hen she is. Alicia’s safe, she’s cared for. Now we’ve just got you to worry about.”

  “Braun asked Connie to look after my sister?”

  “He did. He loves you, sweetheart. Did you think he wouldn’t try to provide for the one family member you have left?”

  She never thought she’d be in the position of even considering it. A tear slipped down her cheek. “Why would he do that? Why would Connie? They don’t know Alicia—hell, I don’t know her anymore—but they know about my family. Why would they do that?”

  “Because they love you. We all do. Alicia isn’t the product of her upbringing any more than you are. The pair of you have to be the most resilient, courageous women I know. Despite being raised by a pair of blood-thirsty, psychotic criminals, you’ve made yourselves into good, honest people.”

  It was difficult to cry with a row of staples holding her together, but Bodie managed it. She let the tears flow freely. There were too many emotions twisted inside her to know what they were, but she’d pick through them eventually, untangling them bit by bit, when she was able. This was about freedom from tyranny and finding hope where she thought there was none left.

  Atticus stayed with her as she wept, comforting her with just the touch of his hand over hers. He murmured to her, keeping her calm when sobs threatened to rise, and allowed her to expose her weaknesses without judgement.

  He rose and fetched some tissues to the bed, carefully cleaning up the mess crying left behind. “The detectives will be coming by to see you now you’re out of the ICU, sweetheart. They’re nice guys, and you have nothing to worry about. There’s just some loose ends they need to tie up, and then all this is done and finished for you and Alicia. The both of you can focus on healing and living the lives you deserve.”

  Bodie peered up at him, grateful for his company even though she probably looked like a hot mess. Crying with someone holding her hand didn’t seem as embarrassing as crying alone in the dark. “Who are you, Atticus?”

  “Just your friendly Avalon Master,” he replied with a grin.

  She snorted, winced. “Who are you really?”

  He stood as Braun slipped into the room behind him, although how he knew Braun was there, she didn’t know. His grin widened. “I’m a ghost, sweetheart.” He bent and kissed her forehead to a chorus of grumbles from Braun. “I’ll catch you around, Bodie. Behave yourself.”

  She watched him go, more intrigued than ever.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Six months later.

  “We don’t have to do this tonight, Bodie. What did Faraday tell you about pushing your limits before you’re ready?” Braun leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his bare chest, and scowled at his errant subbie. Seriously, could she be any more stubborn? “Savannah warned you this morning about taking little steps. Little steps, Boadicea.”

  Bodie curled her lip at the mention of the perky but strict physical therapist who was currently the bane of Bodie’s existence. Savannah, in Braun’s opinion, was fantastic. Exactly what Bodie needed when she wouldn’t listen to anything but the driving need to be whole again.

  “Savannah talk is banned from the house,” she told him, replicating his scowl almost perfectly. “She’s a demon in human disguise, and we’re not talking about her.”

  He barely held onto his control, a laugh threatening to erupt. God knew they hadn’t had much to laugh about the past handful of months. Arguing, bickering, temper tantrums with a side of clinging, crying, depression, and despair was their usual daily menu of emotions.

  He couldn’t blame her. An infection in Bodie’s leg during the early months of her recovery had set her back, resulting in an extra month’s stay in hospital. The wound in her stomach had skinned over, then broken open again, leaving them unable to do anything but let it heal from the inside out.

  The doctors were thrilled with how quickly Bodie’s left leg and broken arm had healed. Her cheekbone hadn’t required surgery, much to Braun’s relief—he wouldn’t like to say how much more Bodie could have taken on top of everything else going on at that point in time.

  Braun watched his subbie perform an unintentional striptease, her body shimmying and wriggling as she fought to pull off the extra baggy t-shirt over her head. He loved the few pounds she’d put on in all the right places in the last few weeks, despite the rigorous daily PT routine she pushed herself through.

  Bodie was determined to lose the crutches as soon as possible.

  “For God’s sake, woman,” he muttered in exasperation when she got tangled in the shirt. He strode to the rescue, deftly freeing her. When she smiled ruefully, he bent and nibbled lazily on her mouth until her lips parted for him. “Savannah’s been a godsend and you know it.”

  Her hands landed on his hips as she leaned into him, using him for support when her leg wobbled. “Do you know how fucking happy she is all the damn time? I’m sweating from places no woman should and she’s all smiles and chirpy-chirp chatter. The woman is a monster, Braun.”

  His eyebrow flicked up. “Harsh, little one.”

  “When I cried last week, she patted me on the head and made me keep on doing the stupid exercises. She said they’re harder for me to do now because my stomach took so long to heal.” Bodie pouted, obviously gearing up for a tantrum.

  Braun knocked it on the head before it escalated into a no-holds barred brawl. “Which is why we need to rethink the idea of going to Avalon tonight, Bodie. She put you through the wringer today; you need to rest. Everyone will understand.” There’d be some disappointed people, he knew, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Bodie didn’t need to know their friends were prepared to throw her a welcome home party at a moment’s notice.

  He�
��d found Liam’s stash of banners and decorations beneath the bar a few weeks ago, and the boy damn near quivered at the mention of Bodie returning to the club.

  “They might, but I don’t. I just want to hobble my ass over to the club and sit with our friends, Braun. Just sit and have a drink, talk to the people we know without them looking at me like the poor woman restricted to a hospital bed or house arrest. I’ve got a damn cast on my leg; I haven’t had it amputated.”

  Grimacing, Braun thanked the stars she didn’t know how close she’d come to that outcome. The possibility of losing her leg completely from the knee down had been discussed when the infection ripped through the limb. For three long and distressing days, he’d withheld vital information from her and given Faraday orders not to distress Bodie out any further with something that might not happen.

  It was just another thing he offered thanks for.

  Damn it, he couldn’t resist her when she peered up at him with those big blues. He’d spent six months reading every emotion in the spectrum as they passed through those eyes. Everything from happiness at seeing a friendly face to weary defeat when she reached the point of giving up.

  With a sigh, he treated himself to another kiss before pushing her back onto the bed. “Fine, but no restrictive clothing. Your balance isn’t the greatest at the moment, and there’s no chance in hell you can catch yourself if you stumble.”

  Bodie grinned at him, victory in her eyes. “Crutches, remember?” Her grin turned wicked, teasing. “Well, I guess we don’t have to go to the club. I can think of something else to keep me out of mischief. Sir.”

  He flicked her on the nose. “No sex, Bodie.”

  “Why not? This is all fixed,” she pointed out, running her fingers down the bright pink scar along her midsection, then walking her fingers in a southerly direction to the top of her mound. “Six months, Braun. Jasper’s concerned the curse of blue balls has come back to haunt you.”

  “Oh, is he now?” Braun scowled again as he rummaged through the pile of clothes she’d handily scattered over the foot of their bed. It looked like a bomb had exploded in a thrift store. “Jasper needs to keep his mouth shut before the curse of no balls at all strikes him.”

  Bodie giggled and fell back, spreading her arms wide. “You know, I read that if a guy doesn’t have sex for months, he’s more likely to come really, really quick when he does. We could get that awkwardness out of the way right now.”

  Struggling so damn hard not to laugh, Braun scooped up an armful of clothes and dropped them on her face. “You are such a brat, Boadicea.”

  Muffled laughter came from beneath the material as she spluttered and fought her way free. “But you love me.”

  He plucked up one of his shirts and a pair of mutilated sweatpants. “Yes, I love you, brat. Now sit up and behave yourself before I hand you over to Jasper for the night. He bought a new tawse last week and he assures me it delivers a bloody good sting.”

  Still laughing, she managed to sit herself up, folding her hands prettily in her lap as she batted her lashes at him. “Because we wouldn’t want that, would we, Sir?” she murmured.

  Christ, she was in a mood tonight. Putting a damper on it would do more harm than good. Maybe a night out of the house would benefit her. Hell, who was he kidding? They both needed a night with company other than their own.

  “You wouldn’t, no. Arms up, darlin’.” When she obeyed, he slipped his shirt over them, then popped her head through the opening and let the material cascade over her perky breasts, beautifully showcased in a lacy bra the color of lavender. “Determined to tempt me tonight, aren’t you?”

  “Every night,” she said earnestly, losing some of the manic energy driving her whacky mood. “Doctor Faraday told us two weeks ago you won’t break me if we have sex, Braun. We just need to be careful with my leg, that’s all.”

  “Stand up,” he ordered, giving her his hands for support, easing her onto her feet. As she swayed, he dropped to his knees and steadied her with his hands on her hips. “I’d fuck you in a heartbeat, Bodie. But I won’t risk setting back weeks of progress because my dick is an impatient bastard.” Always eager to join in the conversation, said dick thickened in his pants as he drew the baggy sweats she wore over her hips and wrestled them over her cast.

  He’d sliced the right leg of the sweatpants from thigh to floor in order to make getting them over the cast easier; most of his sweats had suffered the same fate as Bodie had a penchant for wearing his clothes most of the time.

  He’d found one of his well-worn shirts shoved under her pillow, stolen from the laundry basket. When he’d asked her why she was stowing away dirty laundry, her response had been sweet, hitting him in the heart.

  “I smell it if you’re not here and I’m anxious. It calms me down.”

  There’d been no argument for that. He just kept swapping the shirt under her pillow every few days, and Bodie appeared happy with their silent arrangement.

  “We could do it standing up, if I hold onto something,” Bodie said thoughtfully, holding onto his shoulders as he bundled her into a clean pair of pants. “Oh! Or we could use a spanking bench. That would work.”

  God, was she trying to kill him? Images of her rounded backside bent over a spanking bench filled his head and blood pounded through his cock. A man only had so much control, and his was waning. “You’ll be bent over a fucking bench for all the wrong reasons if you don’t shush, little one.”

  “Promise?”

  She squealed when he growled and dug his fingers into her ribs, finding all her ticklish spots. He didn’t stop until she was breathless and crying with laughter. Tickling was her downfall; she had no defense against the sensitivity of her own skin, and he loved it.

  “Where are your crutches?” he asked, rising to his feet. It took him a moment to decipher her reply from the breathless wheeze of giggling, but gathered they were buried under the mountain of clothes on the bed. “Catch your breath before you pass out, Bodie.”

  While she calmed herself down and slotted her arms into the crutches he unearthed from Mount Material, Braun pulled his phone from his back pocket and sent off a one-word text to the Masters and Mistress.

  Tonight.

  It buzzed with replies as he shoved it back where it belonged, then snatched up a shirt for himself and shrugged it on. It took him another couple of minutes to find a left foot sneaker and laced it on Bodie’s foot as she continued to giggle. “There. Got everything you need, little one?”

  She nodded, using her arm to wipe her face clean of tickle tears, and almost knocking him out with her crutch. “Ooops, sorry! I’m so clumsy with these things.”

  “Hmmm.” He rubbed his shoulder. “Lethal in the wrong hands, aren’t you?”

  “Good job I’m in yours, isn’t it, Sir?” she quipped, and set off on her crutches toward the door. She was far from elegant using them—for all her skill as a dancer, she hadn’t quite grasped the concept of working with them, finding the rhythm necessary for a smooth journey. “Last one to the stairs gets a spanking!”

  Braun chuckled, following behind her as she hobbled out of the door into the hallway. He was pleased her mood had taken such a positive upswing. Too many nights had already passed with Bodie being angry at her leg, at the situation, at the world.

  He slipped past her easily in the hall, striding to the stairs and waiting for her with a smile. Tilting her chin in the air like haughty royalty, she passed him the crutches and gripped the banister in her right hand. “I’ll take my spanking at the club, Jeeves. Be a good manservant and inform them of my arrival, won’t you?”

  Braun snorted and tucked the crutches under his left arm, then slid his right around her waist as they descended the stairs together, one painful step at a time. He heard her sharp intakes of breath when she set her cast down too hard, too fast, but she was getting used to the bulkiness of it. “You okay, darlin’?”

  She grimaced. “Mmm-hmmm.”

  They both breathed a s
igh of relief when they reached the bottom. His biggest fear was that she tripped and fell despite her death grip on the banister and his unrelenting hold on her waist. It didn’t bear thinking about.

  By the time his hand was on the front door, Bodie was sweating profusely. Concerned, Braun cupped her face in his hands. “You’re sure you want to do this tonight? You’re exhausted already and we haven’t even left the house.”

  “I’m fine,” she insisted and shook a crutch at him. “Don’t argue with the wisdom of the magic stick, Braun. I can make it to the club.”

  “I fear the magic stick,” he said dryly, opening the door for her, then locking it behind them. “Its power leaves me quaking in my boots.”

  “So it should. You know, we’d get there a lot faster if someone were to give me a piggyback ride over.” She smiled winningly at his arch look. “What? We would.” She gestured to the cars already parked up beyond the garden fence. “And I wouldn’t arrive all sweaty and disheveled. Win-win, right?”

  “Topping from the bottom, brat.”

  “Buuuuut...”

  “But I love you for it,” he told her, shaking his head. He took her crutches and placed them beside the door. Turning his back to her, he crouched low enough for her arms to wrap around his neck, her chest plastered against his back. Her left leg hooked around his waist, and when he rose with her like a monkey on his back, her cast stuck out in front of them. “Grab your magic sticks, little one. Can’t leave them behind.”

  Almost strangling him with an arm, Bodie leaned back and scooped them up, curling her arm around them tightly. “Giddy up?”

  “Nope. No way in hell.” His hands held onto her thighs, fingers digging into the muscles. If he dropped her now, there would be hell to pay. “Hold on tight and no funny business.”