Heart of Ice

by P. Jameson

  And he froze too. Like he didn’t want to move too quickly.

  Because he scared her, she realized. And… he didn’t want to scare her?

  Marlee said he had claimed Vegas. Whatever that meant. And that one day, he might have a Firecat like Ratchet’s. If he was worthy.

  Vegas didn’t understand. Didn’t need to. Because Marlee said she was free to decide her fate. Her future. All of it. That nothing could be forced on her here. Not her and not the others.

  The thing was… she didn’t have anything. No parents to track down. No friends to find. No history besides the one Bastian had given her. She had nothing of her own. Nothing to move forward with. Nothing on the horizon and only the most brutal shreds of a past.

  She’d never wondered what would happen after freedom. There had only been the desire to be free.

  Now what?

  Who was she if she wasn’t Bastian’s?

  Where did she come from if not his hell?

  And where did she go if there was nowhere to go?

  She might as well be a slip of grass in the wind.

  Vegas wrapped her arms around her middle, trying to quell the chill that thought gave her.

  “I…” Monster looked around like he didn’t know where his gaze should settle. “… have food. For you.”

  Food. She needed to eat. She also needed to rest. The shower had taken all her strength and she’d hardly done more than rinse off.

  But he didn’t move. The way he took up the entire entrance meant she either had to stay there or move back into the bathroom.

  “Marlee says it’s okay here.” Her voice was almost non-existent. Could he even hear her?

  Monster nodded. “You are well protected here.”

  She eyed him. Too close. She took a step backward.

  “Protected? Or guarded?”

  He frowned. “Is there a difference?”

  “Guarded… is what we were before. In the basement. Protected is something else.”

  His brow furrowed with her explanation and he ran his fingers roughly over his jaw. Over his scars. For the first time ever, she wondered how he’d gotten them. What had he endured to leave him so disfigured?

  “I’m not sure,” he said finally. And at least she could appreciate his honesty.

  Silence filled the space while she shivered, stuck between his huge body and the bathroom.

  “Will you eat?” he rumbled, sounding almost irritated.

  “Yes.”

  Still, he didn’t let her pass. Was there a secret word to make him move?

  She kept his gaze, even though it was hard to see him in this different light. Not hard to look upon him. But hard to imagine he could keep from growling at her.

  “Why aren’t you eating, woman?”

  And there it was. The tone that usually made her flinch.

  But this time, it did something else.

  It made her brave. Just for a breath. Just for a moment.

  “Because you’re in my way,” she snapped.

  Monster’s face lost all hint of his frown. “Oh.”

  He stepped aside, giving her just enough space to squeeze past him into the room.

  On the low dresser that took up half of one wall, was a literal feast spread out like she was a queen or something. Realistically, she knew it wasn’t like that at all. It was simple and in plastic cartons, but it was more food than she’d seen in… god, years. And it felt like she’d won the lottery. The food lottery.

  There was fruit. Apples and peaches and even bananas. Bread that looked warm and fresh. With butter. Something steamed from a container. Soup, it looked like. A dish held sliced chicken in a creamy sauce. Bright green broccoli was piled along the side. She’d never been a fan of it, but the green was so pretty, she wanted to gobble it down.

  And then she saw the desserts.

  Chocolate chip cookies. Apple pie. Cheesecake with cherries. And… jello? Bright green jello with a little dollop of cream on the top.

  Her mouth watered.

  She wanted to start with the jello and work her way across the dresser like a garbage disposal.

  But one thing stopped her.

  “How will I pay for this?” she whispered. She didn’t expect him to answer. It was more a rhetorical question.

  She wouldn’t cook for him and the cats. She wouldn’t make drugs ever again. Or package them. Or even look at them. She was done. And she had nothing else to offer them for this food.

  “You will eat it,” Monster ground out, “for free.”

  Vegas turned to him. “Nothing is free.”

  He pushed his jaw out. Crossed his big arms over his chest. “It is here. With me.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?”

  “Yeah. Why are you doing this for me? Why am I here with you and not with Janet and Skye?”

  The question seemed to stump him, but she hoped he would give her an answer. His scarred face twisted back into a frown and his mouth opened and closed more than once without making a sound.

  “I won’t lie to you anymore. Not now that you are here and safe.”

  Vegas swallowed the lump in her throat, preparing for whatever stipulation he would give her. Whatever it was, it had to be better than her deal with Bastian.

  “You’re here because I need to see that you’re taken care of. You’re… special. And no one else will be as careful with you as I will. And because I want to make you stronger.” He cut off awkwardly, as if he’d said too much.

  She resisted the urge to ask why again. Why did he want to make her stronger? Because his answer didn’t quite explain things.

  “Sit,” he grunted. “I will bring your food.”

  “I can—”

  “Sit.”

  Vegas stumbled over to the puffy chair and lowered herself into it. It felt like landing on a cloud. The white fluffy kind that roll in before a storm.

  It wasn’t pleasant.

  Monster stared down at the food spread. “What do you want to try first?”

  “Not sure. My stomach is…”

  “Cramping?”

  How did he know?

  “Yeah.”

  “We’ll need to go slow,” he murmured. “Small bites, sips of water. Let your system get used to real food. Not that sketchy shit Bastian gave you.”

  He spoke like he had experience with being starved.

  “How ‘bout bread?”

  She’d had a lot of bread in her lifetime. And this looked so much better than any of that. But the idea turned her stomach.

  Vegas shook her head. No bread. Not yet.

  “Banana?”

  Again, her stomach lurched threateningly.

  She shook her head.

  He eyed her, curiously, like he was trying to learn her. He turned back to the food and picked up the jello, bringing it over with a spoon. A metal one. Not plastic.

  “This always worked for me when I felt like shit. Mama Kitty makes it. She uses apple juice and 7-up or something.”

  Vegas reached for the cup, but Monster didn’t hand it over. Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed and scooped some gelatin onto the spoon.

  “You wanna try it?”

  Vegas nodded, reaching for the spoon. But Monster held it out of reach.

  “I’ll feed you.”

  “But…”

  “Open.”

  She didn’t have the strength or will to argue. Maybe after a bite or two.

  Vegas let him spoon the soft green food into her mouth and swallowed it down. It was sweet and a little bubbly. And it was just what she needed to soothe her tumultuous stomach.

  “Good?” Monster asked.

  Vegas nodded, and he spooned up another bite. Then another. And one more.

  This time, she reached across the arm of the puffy chair and gripped the spoon before he could get it to her mouth.

  Monster scowled, meeting her gaze.

  “I can do it.”

  “No. I feed mine.”

  She
had let Nyla feed her before. But letting him do it now felt… like surrender.

  To what? She couldn’t say. But she wasn’t ready to trust him yet.

  “I would like to feed myself now.” Her voice shook, but like with Bastian, she held her ground.

  A test maybe. To see if Monster would lord over her too.

  And if he did…

  What? What could she do about it.

  Frowning hard, he let go of the spoon and with trembling fingers, she brought it to her mouth, sucking down the soft food.

  Monster watched, his gaze troubled. But he passed her the cup so she could keep going. And she finished the jello off, her queasiness beginning to level out.

  When she was done, she handed the cup back to him and he slid the water bottle into her hand.

  “Drink.”

  Sipping the water, she realized his demands were out of concern, not because he wanted control.

  Monster was concerned for her. It was a hard rock to swallow.

  He went back to the dresser. “What now? Some fruit? Chicken?”

  “Are the other girls eating?”

  “Already have,” he said, not looking at her. “They’ve been given whatever they asked for. Think Janet asked for a burger. And Skye, a chocolate milkshake. And Mama Kitty made ‘em eat good stuff too. Like this broccoli shit she made me bring you.”

  Good. This was good.

  “Did she keep it down?” she asked, “Janet? Did the burger stay?”

  Monster lifted his eyes to hers, and she realized he didn’t do that very much. Hadn’t done it much in the basement. He looked at her, sure. But he didn’t let her see him.

  “No. But Smokes said she smiled when she ate it. That’s a good sign, right?”

  He sounded genuinely curious.

  “Yeah.”

  He held up a banana.

  Vegas shook her head. “Chicken.”

  The look of satisfaction on his face was nothing she’d ever seen from him before. It transformed his rough scars into something softer. Something she knew he didn’t let out often. Or maybe ever.

  And it scared her.

  Like everything did these days.

  She closed her eyes to him as he sliced the chicken and dished it up. The faint clink of the flatware upon the plate kept her from fading off to sleep. And then his boots tromping the concrete floor as he brought it to her pulled her eyes back open.

  “You can lift the footrest.” He stood so tall over her, it was awkward to look up. “There’s a button,” he said. “There on the side. By the cushion.”

  Vegas felt for the button but couldn’t find it.

  “Here…” Monster reached beside the arm of the chair and flicked a lever that had her feet shooting forward and her head falling back.

  Vegas let out a surprised yelp and scrambled back to a sit.

  “No. Put it back.”

  “You don’t like it?”

  “No.”

  Monster shrugged. “Okay.” With his heavy boot, he pushed the foot rest down until it clicked back into place. He set the plate carefully on the arm of the chair and waited for her to eat.

  Vegas chewed the chicken slowly, letting her stomach get used to it. It was delicious and tender. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had anything but mystery meat that was the texture of cardboard.

  When she’d had all she could fit, Monster took the plate back and finished what she hadn’t eaten.

  Vegas stared at him, wondering why he didn’t just get a plate of his own.

  But he caught her looking and stopped.

  “Does it bother you?”

  “What?”

  “Watching me eat.”

  Vegas frowned. “Why would it bother me?”

  He lifted one shoulder in a shrug and set the fork down. “Fang says watching me eat is like watching a hairless cat do the Macarena.”

  What?

  “Talking about my scars, I guess. The way they move when I eat…Never knew if he was serious or just giving me hell.”

  The way he said it so casually. Like he was always told how ugly he was, it sent a little thread of pain wrapping around her heart.

  “It seems to me like Fang is an asshole.”

  Monster nodded, setting the plate aside. “Worse than that. But you don’t have to worry about him. He wouldn’t dare cross me.”

  A shiver ran up Vegas’s spine at his words.

  Not many people dared cross Monster, she guessed. And it wasn’t because of what his face looked like. From what she could tell, most of the Alley Cats were just as rough around the edges.

  But him? He was different.

  He felt like he had a purpose, a mission, and anything in his way would be leveled.

  “You can ask me anything,” he said finally. “I will answer all your questions, snowflake. But you can’t leave this room without me. Okay? Not yet. I’ll take you anywhere you want within the warehouse, get you anything you want. Whatever. But I need you to stay here unless I’m with you. So… ask. Anything.”

  “Why can’t I leave?”

  “Because there are a lot of people in this clan I don’t trust. And like I said, I want you safe.”

  “Are Skye and Janet safe too?”

  He nodded. “Smokes is keeping an eye on them. And Ratchet. They’re secure.”

  “Do you turn into fire like Ratchet?”

  Monster rubbed his palms together. “Not yet. One day.”

  Good… maybe. She couldn’t imagine Monster with that kind of power. What kind of beast would he be if he could spit fire? What wrongs would he do for Bastian then?

  “Will you still work for him?”

  Monster’s face went hard as stone. “Never. It was hard enough to stomach doing it for as long as I did. Fucking bastard deserves to die—”

  “Why did they send you to watch over us?”

  He blew out a slow breath. “Because of my face. And because I asked to be the one.”

  Okay. That didn’t clear anything up.

  He must’ve seen that in her expression because he continued. “I look mean. Bastian wanted someone mean.”

  “But you wanted to do it.”

  He was quiet for a long time before answering.

  “There’s a picture. Of you. Marlee brought it with her.”

  The photo she’d promised to give the police.

  “When I saw it… I knew.”

  “Knew what?” Vegas whispered.

  He found her eyes. “That you were her. The one I needed to make me whole again.”

  “H-How can I do that?”

  She didn’t have any special skills. She didn’t know anything that could help Monster. She only knew what she’d learned from Bastian. And none of it could yield anything good.

  “I don’t know. But I think it starts with me making you safe. So that’s what I’m doing.”

  But Vegas didn’t believe she was safe. Not yet. And maybe not ever.

  Chapter Twelve

  Monster stood in the doorway of the bathroom, watching Vegas as she snoozed, sitting straight up in the easy-chair. She’d eaten. Little bits at a time, until the color returned to her cheeks some, and her body didn’t shake so much. She went quiet after he’d told her about the picture. And when he heard her soft snore and knew she was asleep, he decided it was time to clean up the damage Ratchet’s claws did to his chest.

  Except now he couldn’t pull his gaze from her to shut the bathroom door.

  It was hard to believe she was here. In his space. Far from the hell Bastian put her through. Seeing her resting in his chair, even if she wasn’t completely peaceful, it did something to his chest. Gave him that burning sensation he always got when he was near her.

  But more than that. Something he couldn’t quite name. Something good and right.

  Satisfaction, his beast purred.

  And yeah, that was it, wasn’t it? His girl, in his domain, under his protection. It gave him so much satisfaction he could hardly brea
the.

  He dragged his eyes over her again. Hair to her shoulders, blond as the August sun. Skin so pale she desperately needed the slight pink shade her cheeks gave off now. Delicate shoulders that looked too small in the oversized shirt Marlee had brought. The chair swallowed her. But she was…

  Perfect.

  She was perfect. And he had to be very careful not to ruin her. He had to prove Ratchet wrong. He had to prove his father wrong. He had to be good enough for her. Because now that she was here, he couldn’t imagine letting her go.

  Keep her.

  He swallowed down the knot in his throat and let the bathroom door click shut.

  Quickly, he stripped and stepped under the spray of the shower, letting the hot water blast his skin. He cleaned off as fast as he could, anxious to get back to Vegas. But when he reached for his cock, he found the thing rigid.

  “Shit.”

  It’d been a long time since he’d thought about his body’s needs. Too preoccupied with getting his girl free. But now she was, and his boner was reminding him it had been a while.

  Goddamn it. Now was not the time.

  Bracing his forearm on the wall, he pressed his fist into the tile and breathed deep, willing the thing down.

  But it didn’t work.

  Finding females to fuck had never been a problem for him. There were plenty of broken girls wanting attention, and they didn’t care that it came from his ugly ass. Especially when he shared with Fang.

  But he didn’t want that now.

  He wanted something real. Something that didn’t feel like desperation and novelty. He wanted someone to see past the shit on the outside, all the way to the man inside. The one who had a normal face and a supremely fucked-up heart.

  Maybe right now his body just wanted a release, but his head, his soul, wanted a fucking connection.

  With her.

  He banged his head against the wall. “No, no, no.”

  This was what Ratchet was talking about, wasn’t it. The new beast, demanding a bond.

  But was it just the beast?

  Because he wanted to touch her more than he wanted just about anything in the whole damn world. Just a hint of her skin. Just to know what she felt like. The small contact when he lifted her out the window, it wasn’t enough. He craved more. Even if it was just her breath, just a whisper. He needed it.

  Damn, why did he need it so much?