Heart of Ice

by P. Jameson

  But she remembered what he looked like fresh from the shower, towel wrapped around his waist.

  He wasn’t how she imagined he’d be. He was muscular, yes. And so huge, if they were side by side, she’d look like a twig. But he wasn’t normal. No smooth skin. No dusting of hair over his chest. And his scars moved beyond his face to cover much of his body.

  He was like art.

  And not the pretty kind that hung in a gallery. He was the messy kind, full of emotion. The kind that made you feel something when you looked at it. Scared but moved. Intimidated but grateful.

  Like he needed to be interpreted but each person’s translation would be different.

  Vegas watched his bare feet pad along the floor as he began flicking off the lights. He left one lamp on before he lowered himself to the floor beside the bed. Reaching over, he yanked down a pillow and bunched it up before lying down.

  What was he doing?

  Ask anything, right…

  “Why are you there. And not on the bed?”

  “My girl sleeps on the floor, I sleep on the floor. Simple.”

  “You’re going to stay there all night?”

  He grumbled a noise that implied yes.

  “Why?”

  “Because.” He paused and she thought that would be all he said on the matter. “You’re scared of me. So I’ll stay right here. Otherwise, I would be under there with you. Right next to you. As close as you’d let me.”

  Vegas went quiet, trying to process his words. Him, under the bed. With her.

  She wasn’t sure how that made her feel but… it wasn’t altogether bad.

  “You are scared of me. Aren’t you?” His question wasn’t grumbled like the rest. It was quiet. She liked his voice when it was quiet. It felt safe, and like a bit of a secret. Like he probably didn’t use it all that much.

  But he did with her.

  “Only a little now.”

  “Enough to keep us from holding hands?”

  She couldn’t answer his rough question. It felt like something she couldn’t comprehend. He wanted to hold her hand. Like people did in movies?

  She’d never done that before. She’d never done a lot of things. Most things.

  “Or we could hold pinkies like Ratchet and Marlee, so only a little bit is touching.” He stuck his pinky up and held it out to her. It was just outside the shadow where the light hit it. “Like this.”

  Vegas stared at it from her dark spot.

  Hold pinkies.

  Her heart thundered with the idea. She didn’t like being touched under normal circumstances. There were too many bad touches, and never any good ones.

  But maybe with Monster, it could be different.

  “My hand is scarred and ugly. But it will never hurt you. Not ever. I swear it.”

  After a few moments of it hanging there, he drew it back, settling back to the floor. He took her inaction as an answer. And though he frowned hard, he didn’t push her.

  “Is there something littler than a pinky?” he murmured, almost to himself.

  Silence settled between them as she watched him stare at the ceiling overhead. Brow furrowed like he was really thinking about it.

  “A fingertip,” she whispered.

  Monster turned his head to peer under the bed. But he couldn’t see her. Not well. Too dark.

  She squeezed her eyes closed and blew out a hard breath. The idea of him touching her made her tremble and she couldn’t tell if it was the cold or not. But she was willing to try.

  “You put yours there, on the floor. And wait. And I’ll put my fingertip to yours.”

  She could do this. Convince herself he wasn’t the Monster who’d lorded over the dolls in the basement. That he was safe.

  Sort of.

  That’s what Marlee had said. Sort of.

  So not completely safe.

  A rustling movement had her opening her clenched eyes. Monster turned on his side, facing the bed. His palm was pressed to the floor, thick fingers splayed wide like he wasn’t sure which of them she would choose. And he stared at it with so much hope in his expression, her heart stumbled over its next beat.

  He wanted this badly, her touch. And she’d never wanted to please a person so much in her life.

  Slowly, she slid her own hand near the edge of the shadow, inching closer to the line of gold light that bathed the floor from the lamp. Touch the light, then touch the monster. Easy. She could do this.

  “Don’t move,” she breathed.

  He gave a short nod and pressed his mangled lips together, looking determined to follow her orders.

  Her finger breached the light and her stomach rolled at the sight of it. Bruised, half-missing nail. Scratched knuckles. Chemical burns.

  She inched closer, stretching her arm out, spreading her fingers wide just like his were. Just a little touch… and then she’d yank her hand back to safety.

  Drawing courage from deep down, she carefully pressed her middle fingertip to his matching one.

  And left it there.

  His skin was hot against hers. His finger warming hers, and it made her wonder if all of him was hot like this small part.

  Vegas frowned in the darkness. If she could let him hold her entire hand, would she finally get warm?

  Warm.

  The idea of feeling heat instead of chill brought tears to her eyes. But even they weren’t warm like they should be.

  The breath rushed out of Monster and his hand started to shake against the floor. Like he was struggling to keep from moving and it was making his muscles jump.

  “Move,” he ground out.

  Her gaze snapped to his face. It was pinched like he was in pain.

  “Move, Vegas. Now,” he ordered, and she yelped, yanking her hand back into the darkness, her heart racing so fast she could hardly swallow.

  Monster stood so quickly her gaze followed him up and she banged her head against the bed frame.

  He paced the room, back and forth three times before he said anything.

  “I’m sorry, snowflake.” His voice was strained, but before she could answer him, he reached for his phone off the nightstand and tapped in a number. “Need Marlee. Now,” he growled into the receiver.

  ***

  Marlee burst into the room without even knocking and Vegas drew in a shocked gasp at the sudden invasion. The only sound in the room before it was Monster’s heavy breathing and the rapid pat of his feet as he paced the length of the space.

  “What happened?” Marlee demanded, letting the door slam shut behind her.

  Monster stopped just before the bed, only his feet visible to Vegas. But he didn’t answer.

  And Vegas was curious too.

  Why did he yell? Why did he pull away like she’d poisoned him? And why did he call Marlee here?

  Vegas shivered and tucked her legs closer to her body.

  Was he going to make her leave?

  A spiral of horrible thoughts started swirling in her mind. If she’d done something wrong, maybe Monster wanted her gone. Maybe she really was dangerous. Maybe whatever scared Mama Kitty away would scare him away too. And if he lifted his protection, would the Alley Cats give her back to Bastian? Would they send her back to the beast?

  “Monster.” Marlee’s voice put the brakes on Vegas’s avalanche. “What the hell happened?”

  “I… I tried to touch her.”

  “You did what?” Marlee’s voice rose three octaves and held an edge of that anger she used to have in the early days of Bastian’s dungeon.

  “Just a little,” Monster rushed out. “Just barely her finger. The middle one. She said I could, but…”

  “But what?”

  There was a long silence where Vegas held her breath. When Monster’s heavy sigh burst from his chest, hers did too.

  “I hurt her,” he said, his voice crackling over the word hurt. He sounded like burning embers from a campfire.

  Vegas frowned.

  Hurt her?

  He hadn�
��t hurt her. Scared her. With his voice when he told her to move.

  But his touch hadn’t hurt her at all. Just the opposite. It was new and strange, but also something she wanted to… explore? It was careful and soft and warm and best of all? It was her choice.

  “How could you?” Marlee hissed. Vegas had never heard that kind of venom in her voice. “You promised you would do things right. You said you cared for her.”

  Cared for her?

  Vegas inched closer to the edge of light.

  Monster remained silent and Marlee kept up her angry tirade.

  “We trusted you. I told her you were safe. How could you do this?”

  The floor against Vegas’s cheek vibrated as Marlee stomped over to the bed and crouched low to peer beneath it. Her eyes softened as they landed on Vegas where she’d stopped just barely still in shadow.

  “Hi,” Marlee said carefully.

  “Hello.”

  “Where are you hurt?”

  Vegas opened her mouth to explain that she wasn’t but then snapped it closed again when she couldn’t find the right words. Inside, she scrambled to process what was happening.

  “Is it very bad? Should I get help? Can you walk? We’re getting you out of here. You never have to see him again.”

  God, too many questions. She picked one out of the air to answer. “I-I-I can walk.”

  Marlee pushed her hand forward, expecting Vegas to take it. “Let’s go then. You can stay with me for a while. We’ll make Ratchet sleep in another room until you feel safer.”

  But Vegas didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay under the bed where she was safe. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to know why he cared. Why he sounded hurt. She wanted… to be warm. Maybe not let Monster touch her anymore, but if he stayed close enough, she could probably get warm from the heat radiating off him.

  If she went with Marlee, that wouldn’t happen.

  Vegas backed further under the bed. “No.”

  “No?”

  She shook her head, doubting Marlee could see it.

  “I don’t want to come out.”

  Marlee frowned.

  “I’ll leave,” Monster ground out, voice snagging in a strange way. “She can have my room. Give me… give me a minute.”

  No.

  She watched him rush around the space like a storm, pulling things out of drawers.

  “No,” she said, but he didn’t hear her. He was going to leave and all because of a misunderstanding. He didn’t hurt her. He didn’t.

  He never had. Not even in the basement. Not even in the hallway where there were no cameras to stop him.

  He walked into the bathroom and the rattling of glass bottles jolted her. He emerged seconds later, and started for the door, moving so fast it was like the floor was lava.

  Except it wasn’t. It was ice cold without him near.

  What the hell was happening to her?

  Monster yanked the door open and—

  “Stop!” Vegas scrambled out from under the bed, pushing Marlee aside. “Don’t go.”

  He froze halfway through the doorway, his back to her, rigid and tense. The fingers of one hand gripped the frame so hard she wondered if it would leave indentions in the wood. And his rapid breath made his shoulders heave so they were the only part of him moving.

  “It’s yours, snowflake,” he whispered. “The room is yours. I won’t come around no more. Okay? You’re safe. Believe it. Safe from me. From it all.”

  She didn’t need to be safe from him. He wasn’t the enemy. He wasn’t her captor. He wasn’t Bastian.

  He was the monster who freed her.

  And the difference mattered. More than she could say. Words weren’t on her side right now.

  “Please,” she tried again. “Don’t leave.”

  Before he could decide, Marlee spoke up. “Vegas, are you hurt?”

  “No. That’s… that’s what I’m trying to say. He didn’t hurt me. Nothing happened.”

  Monster twisted to find her eyes. He scowled hard, but she saw it for what it was. Desperation to understand.

  “I’m not hurt,” she told him.

  “He frightened you then?” Marlee guided her to sit on the bed and eased down beside her.

  “No. Not… not really.”

  Marlee glanced at Monster, frowning like she was confused too.

  He shook his head. “You cried,” he accused. “I touched you, and it made you cry. I’ve watched you, female. You cry when you’re hurt.”

  How could he have known about her tears? She’d been in the dark.

  “I was crying because…” Vegas swallowed hard and tried to hold his gaze as long as she could. “because it felt… nice.”

  All the air escaped her lungs with that admission. It was pure relief. She didn’t understand it, but she felt it.

  And maybe it had the same effect on Monster because every part of his tense expression deflated. His shoulders sagged, his clenched jaw relaxed. His eyes peeled back to reveal so much emotion, it cramped her stomach.

  No one looked at her like he was now. Like… like… he wanted to promise her the world on a silver platter. Like her rushed explanation had turned her into his one and only desire.

  She had to look away.

  Marlee cleared her throat but her next words were careful and quiet.

  “You have to tell him when things feel nice. Okay, Vegas? They don’t know.”

  Vegas stared at her friend. Marlee had done this all before, hadn’t she? And she’d found a way to be happy.

  “They won’t know when it feels nice to them either. They just know they want things, you see. They’ve been hurt too, like we have. You have to understand that.” Marlee sighed. “Remember that time a customer gave Skye a blanket and Bastian let her bring it to the basement?”

  Vegas nodded.

  “It was very soft. Remember?”

  “The softest thing I’d ever touched,” Vegas agreed.

  “But you didn’t like it. And neither did Skye. She used to say it was too weird. It gave her chills. Like nails on a chalkboard. Because she was so used to the rough sheets and pilled wool we used all the time. That was what she was most comfortable with.”

  Vegas remembered.

  “It’s like… how I prefer the hard floor over the soft bed.” The darkness over the light.

  But not the cold. She’d take warm over cold any minute of the day.

  Marlee nodded, her expression sad.

  “When bad is all you’re used to feeling…when it’s your normal, anything good can feel really bad. But not forever. Just until you learn to recognize it. Then it has the power to make you forget all that bad stuff. And that’s where miracles happen. So tell him when things are good. So he won’t be afraid. Okay? And then one day, no one will have to tell either of you anymore. You’ll just… know.”

  New tears leaked from Vegas’s eyes, Marlee’s too. She prayed her friend was right, and the day would come when forward didn’t feel like backward and right didn’t feel wrong.

  Because hope was as fragile as a snowflake. And she desperately didn’t want to break it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  He loved her.

  Oh shit.

  He loved her. The fierce pain in his chest told him so. He’d never felt it for anyone before, but he knew what it was. Knew the only thing that could make him sick like this was love. The real kind that burned like fire behind his ribs.

  He was weak. So fucking weak. To fall this hard and this fast with just her simple words: It felt nice.

  They weren’t even great words. They weren’t a promise. Or a declaration that she loved him too.

  It felt nice.

  They were about as simple as they could be. Barely even a compliment. But they wrapped around his heart so tight, there was no changing what they did.

  He loved her.

  Because she thought his touch was nice.

  He was so fucking weak.

  She made him weak.


  The right kind of weakness can become strength, his beast purred.

  Yes, maybe. If he was very careful. If he was careful with her, maybe he wouldn’t fuck this up. But what did he know about loving someone?

  Mate will show you.

  He swallowed the wonderful ache in his throat, not the least bit concerned what his eyes were revealing right now.

  Strange how it could feel equally good and bad. Made him want to cry and smile at the same time. Neither of which he’d done in a long damn time.

  Vegas looked away, focusing on the floor at his feet.

  He wanted to demand her attention again. Wanted to watch what her face did next. He wanted to tell her what was swirling in his chest like a violent tornado.

  No. Be careful. Go slow.

  All he could do was stare as Marlee spoke. He heard every word. Locked it all down in his memory. But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t shut the door. Couldn’t stop the vicious pounding of his heart.

  And then Ratchet’s mate was standing to leave, squeezing Vegas’s hand in hers. More tears fell from Vegas’s eyes, but Monster couldn’t decide if they were good or bad now. Maybe these were good too. Like before. He didn’t want to get it wrong again.

  Marlee squeezed around him and shut the door behind her, leaving them alone again.

  Without looking his way, Vegas quietly slipped back under the bed, pulling the blanket along with her.

  Monster took his time returning his clothes to the drawers and his stuff to the bathroom before settling back on the floor beside her. He was still shaken from the emotional tsunami threatening to flood him in ways he’d never experienced before. But it was enough just being there with her.

  He’d been ready to leave her alone for good if it meant she wouldn’t be scared anymore. He couldn’t stomach the idea of her fearing him for another goddamn second. Not now. Not after everything.

  But it wasn’t that at all.

  She wasn’t under the bed because she feared him. She was there because it was comfortable. Like Marlee explained about the blanket. Damn, he could understand that, couldn’t he?

  He was used to rough everything. Rough words, touches. Rough looks, reactions. But Vegas’s touch, small as it was, was the softest, gentlest thing he’d ever encountered. And her words, her barely-a-compliment words, were enough to have him tumbling into fucking love with her.