Jane: A Jane Eyre Retelling

by Lark Watson

  The next button on my shirt slipped free without me even noticing.

  “I have the filthiest thoughts about you and the things I’m going to do to you—and the things I’m going to have you do to me.” The next button was gone now as well. “You’ve tortured me, Jane, and for that you’ll have to be punished. But, not tonight.”

  “Yes, sir.” I said it purposefully and felt his response immediately, the quick, hard rub of his cock against me through his jeans and my skirt.

  “You’re playing with fire now, little elf. Is it because I didn’t tell you what I think of…perhaps I should tell you what you do in my fantasies when I’m alone in my room.” He straightened enough to stare down at me, forcing my head back to look up at him as I felt another button slip free. “Do you want to hear about how I rub my cock and think about you sitting up in your little window? How I think about opening the shades so you can watch me make myself come, your name a stuffed scream locked in my throat? The things I imagine as I pump into my own fist? Does that horrify you?”

  Should I be ashamed to say that it did not? It didn’t at all. I thought of my voyeuristic nights staring down at his closed drapes and wishing for a sight of him. How would I have reacted if he’d done that? Been equally intrigued and horrified? Given him his privacy?

  I couldn’t guess because I was here now and my shirt was being slipped over my shoulders and down both my arms.

  But, with my shirt gone, I felt an odd type of freedom.

  Instead of feeling the need to cover myself—to protect—a rush of bravery swept over my already heated skin. My own hands raced up under his shirt, lavishing in the ripple of his muscles under my touch as I pulled at the layers he still wore, working them from his pants.

  His skin was hot and more than dusted with dark, wiry hair. I couldn’t help but inspect it as I pushed his sweater and undershirt up, up, and up more exposing his rigid muscles, a barrel chest, then wide shoulders.

  He ducked his head and raised his arms, letting me continue the clothes’ path up and over and off until he stood before me naked from the waist up.

  He smiled again and I realized that these were for me, for us. No one else. They were not sly or mocking or cruel. They were not part of a skit it felt like he was always playing out. They were smiles, as you would give to one you cared for.

  He shifted me, walking me backward down the short hall between his office and bedroom, the smile shifting to a teasing, darker look that pleased me straight through.

  His fingers brushed the lace of my bra while his other hand worked at the zipper on the back of my skirt. When he slid it down, I had a moment of horror as only a woman can the first time she’s with her lover that he’s going to see her in a bra and panties and be underwhelmed.

  I reached up wishing for cover, wanting to go both forward and back to the safety of cover. But, as I did, his fingers trailed up my side, his hand cupping my breast, forcing a gasp of breath to silence me.

  I glanced down, watching his hand caress me, watching it ease up so his fingers could brush across the top of the material, teasing at the edge, touching skin to skin.

  Before I knew what had happened, the bra fell away and Thorne’s mouth came down where the material had been as he backed me toward the bed. I’d lost all thought as I lay under the ministrations of his mouth and hands, the weight of his body rubbing down on me as my body urged up into his, wishing the rough ride of his jeans no longer separated us.

  He reached down, pulling back enough to flick the button of his jeans and yank the zipper out of the way, his hands less steady than they’d been on me. The entire time, his dark, glazed eyes stayed on me, focused beyond their typical intensity.

  His mouth came down on my neck, giving it a quick nip that had my head arching back, giving him all the access he wanted as he let me push at his jeans, not even able to get them past his hips for the weight he kept on me.

  He braced himself on his elbows, lifting himself away as I worked at the top of his pants again, the grin he gave me so self-satisfied I was tempted to smack it off him. Instead, I gave up pushing at his clothes and wrapped one leg around his and pulled him back down to me to smother that grin with my own mouth on his this time, diving deep into the heat of him.

  I was far from sensible when the bed shook, the heat and percussion of an explosion washing over me so thoroughly that for a moment I believed it was nothing more than my body reacting to the hard squeeze of my breast in his hand.

  But, when Thorne’s head jerked up and away from my own, I knew the shockwaves were from more than just the pleasure rushing through me.

  A second blast came from outside the door, rocking the wall the bed that rested against. A cold rush of air swept over me as he pulled away, his body jerking up and off the bed as he turned and sprinted to the door, his jeans open but still hanging from his hips. I sat up, watching, trying not to panic as the outer French doors crashed open and a man in head-to-toe black pushed into the room, a ski mask obscuring his face.

  He raised his gun and I flinched as Thorne rushed him, the guttural roar of pissed off man rising out of him as he reached for the muzzle of the weapon, forcing it up and away from both of us.

  I watched, frozen as they grappled, the man in black nearly overcoming Thorne too many times for my comfort. Then, he released the gun and, as Thorne worked to swing it around toward the man, a knife flashed in his second hand, coming up at Thorne’s gut too fast for me to shout a warning.

  A shot from outside sounded, echoing in through the door on the cold path of the wind. The man jerked, pushing at Thorne as if he could finish his mission before the bullet finished its.

  As he slid down, collapsing at Thorne’s feet, he revealed Finn, armed and sweeping the view with a quick glance. His gaze paused on me for only a moment before rushing on, making me remember my nakedness.

  Thorne straightened, blocking his view and took a step forward.

  “From below?” he asked.

  “Yes. All’s clear in the cottage.” Finn took a step back as he answered.

  I’d wrapped myself in the comforter, not bothering to move far enough to look for my clothes, keeping myself as small as possible in the room.

  “He can’t be the only one.” Thorne pulled at his jeans, zipping them as he did and glancing around. “Micha?”

  “Sweeping the front. We were taken from the—“ Finn’s body jerked and fell forward into Thorne.

  Even as he stepped forward to pull Finn into the room, he was shouting at me over his shoulder.

  “Jane. My closet. Now.” I leapt up, rushing out of the room, following directions not because of fear but because I knew that any other action on my part would cause Thorne’s attention to be split.

  I hurried into the small walk-thru closet into the bathroom where I grabbed towels for Finn.

  As I rushed back into the closet, Thorne came in and pushed back a row of suits to show a long line of small screens.

  “You’re going to stay here. You’re going to open that door only if it’s me or Micha. No one else. Not even Finn or the cops.” He flipped up the bench under the screens revealing a long row of weapons.

  I watched, hearing another round of shots from outside as he pulled on a thick sweater and then wrapped a holster over his shoulder, sticking a gun in each side, then one in the back of his waistband and another in his hand, more armed than I thought one man could be.

  “This is a safe room. The house could burn down around you and you’ll be fine in here. There is zero reason to leave.” His free hand cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing over my skin as he firmed his grip forcing me to meet his gaze. “Remember this number. 7648. Repeat it back to me. “

  “7648.”

  “Again.”

  “7648.”

  “If something happens to me, you’ll know when to use it. “

  His mouth slammed down hard on mine, stealing the air from my soul.

  Before I could say another word, he grabbed a r
ifle off the bench and stepped back, shutting the door. I hard snick of metal on metal sounded and I closed my eyes, trying not to feel a rush of claustrophobia.

  I glanced toward the screens, watching him make his way to where Finn was propped up out of the line of the French doors. He handed him the rifle and stepped cautiously toward the door, his gaze darting about in a quick sweep of the area beyond the doorway.

  With a swift lethal grace, he passed by the broken doors to his bed, his hand slipping under the lip of his bedside table and, in the blink of an eye, the most of the house and grounds went dark.

  I watched for a moment as he stepped out into the darkness and lost him in the swirl of snow and shadows.

  Chapter 38

  I stood, staring at the door a moment, hoping for the knock that would set me free. After a long silence, I decided that even if there was no immediate threat, Thorne would leave me there while as he assured himself we were all well past any danger. Then, he’d check the house himself and reassure the household—who, I was just remembering—were unaware I had returned.

  I shifted in the blanket, remembering my state of undress and reached for one of the shirts hanging on the opposite wall. Pulling it on, I nearly laughed at the way it dropped around me, the shoulders coming down almost to my elbows even buttoned. I sucked in a breath, taking the scent of him in from his shirt and closed my eyes, imagining that the night had not taken such an unexpected—not to mention, violent—turn.

  Finishing the buttons, I looked for pants that might fit, but realized the shirt was more of a dress on me, and that was fine seeing as Finn had already seen me naked. Not something I was going to deal with well later when the adrenaline crashed.

  I turned back to the screens, watching as an occasional shadow snuck across an open doorway or from tree to tree below the house.

  For the first time in years I felt helpless. It was an emotion I’d long since become inured to. While things were usually out of my control, my reactions were not. I had learned to manage them, and as much of my environment as possible, for years.

  Until Thorne had shut me in this closet.

  Studying the screens more closely, I saw that things had turned. The empty lower lawn was now speckled with men, unfamiliar ones creeping up from the path along the lake. I ached to rush out and warn them, to point to the men hidden still by the shrubs. The idea that anyone would be returning for me besides Thorne making the hole in my chest grow and ache even as my heart pounded away.

  I finally gave the security system my full attention, reading the knobs and dials, checking the screens. I found Micha coming around from the far side of the house, as he reloaded a gun I wished was far larger. A moment later, I saw a flash of Thorne lowered behind the tree we’d stood beneath in the rain what now seemed like years ago.

  The men were creeping up toward him and I saw him cock his head as if listening.

  A roll of nausea swept through me, not wanting to watch him be overtaken. Glancing around desperately for a way to contact him, I stopped to finally reread the panel. And, with a prayer that I was doing what I’d hoped, I flicked the switch, powering on the lights that flooded the walkway and the path at the lake.

  Holding my breath, I watched as the men dropped to the ground and Thorne turned toward the house a moment, letting me catch a clear view of his profile in one of the cameras looking calm and amused.

  I flicked the lights back off and, as the men started to regroup, turned them back on.

  If this weren’t life or death, I’d have found some humor in playing the hand of God. But the moment was filled with nothing but dread and fear and a sick feeling that no matter what, now that I understood the strength of my own position, I played the roll in someone’s death—but knowing the only unacceptable outcome was the loss of Thorne and his men.

  I watched as, blinded, the men discarded the night goggles they’d been wearing.

  In a different screen, I saw Micha come down and around, circling off to their side. Then, one of them dropped—then a second.

  I counted three more. But, Thorne turned again and looked directly into the camera, then ran his hand across his neck. I wanted to shake my head as if he could see me, but he pointed to each light…even the ones I had not turned on, and made the gesture again.

  I sent up a small prayer to a God who at this point must owe me at least one favor and cut the lights, yard and house, in one quick run of switches.

  The screens went nearly black. Even against the white of the snow, I could barely see the men on either side of the line. And, the soundproofing of the room kept me from tracking the events outside.

  I sat on the bench, back to the screens, knowing that no matter what, now I had no way of knowing…of helping.

  The time stretched out in a way I’d never known it to. At moments seeming like as if this had just begun, other times as if I’d been trapped in the small panic room for days.

  Finally, a light knock came on the door and I rose, holding my breath. I searched for the camera outside the little room and praying the man would be the only one I wished to look on.

  Chapter 39

  My heart stopped and I closed my eyes, afraid to look when another, more insistent knock echoed. I turned toward the screen, eyes still held tightly closed against a message I feared to find.

  When I let them loose, quivering open, my knees gave out, crashing me to the ground as I saw the face I loved above all others staring up into the camera, a look of concern beginning to grow on his dark brow.

  Rising, I pushed the button at the side of the door, releasing the safeguards and unlocking the inner bolts.

  I was standing, my whole body fluttering with quivers, when Thorne stepped in and pulled me to him, his arms locking me to him in an embrace so tight the air I couldn’t pull in before was an unnecessary space between us.

  “Jane.” It sounded like a prayer of thanksgiving drifting down to where I was wrapped safely within his arms.

  We stood, just a moment, together as the silence caught up to me.

  “Finn?”

  Thorne eased back and lead me into the room where Micha was barricading the French doors, armed to the teeth, and Finn lay propped on the bed where I myself had been stretched out earlier.

  He had a bloody towel held to his side, a gun held in his other hand. The ease I’d felt being let out and seeing all three back inside faded away on the note that they were all still armed to the teeth.

  Micha glanced away from the door and gave me a reassuring smile.

  “Hey there, mouse.” His gaze shifted back to the door and windows even as he continued. “Brilliant move with the lights.”

  A phone—still somehow in Thorne’s back pocket—buzzed a text and a door slammed in the distance.

  A voice came strong, and quick down the short hall. “Clear, 448. It’s Marcus.”

  He strode in even as he was finishing the declaration.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised to see him holstered to, but it seemed so out of character for a doctor to be armed that I couldn’t help but stare.

  “Thorne, your nanny has lost her clothes.” He gave me a broad smile as he made his way to the bed where Finn lay.

  Thorne pulled me behind him with one hand as he glared at Dr. Marcus. “Don’t make me shoot you before you’ve patched everyone up.”

  “Give me a count.” Dr. Marcus had his large bag open and was pulling out a light he strapped on his head like a spelunker.

  “Finn is the only one of the house. We have one down and out in the courtyard. Four shot and cuffed below. I’m not sure at the cottage.”

  “One dead,” Finn added in on a hiss as Dr. Marcus pulled away the bloody towel.

  “Micha?” Thorne asked, obviously expecting the answers he wanted.

  “Same count. Donovan has been called in.” Micha’s voice was curt, direct. “I hit the alert at the first notice.”

  “Me too,” Finn added.

  Micha glanced his way. “So, an
hour and a half ago?”

  Finn jerked a nod.

  “Good.” Thorne turned, holding me in place and finally taking a long look at me. “Jane?”

  “I didn’t shoot anyone.”

  Finn snorted from his spot on the bed and Dr. Marcus growled at him to hold still.

  “I’m aware of that.” Thorne gave me a look that would have silenced his men. “I’m actually thankful for that. I was more inquiring about your well-being.”

  “Oh.” I knew that, but I hadn’t expected him to push the topic here with his men and the doctor and me garbed only in his shirt. “I’m…as expected.”

  “Jane, you are never as expected.” His arm came around me and I was surprised to find him affectionate in such a manner in front of the others.

  “I’m glad we’re all okay. Beyond that, I really couldn’t say.”

  The violence here today was far more than anything I’d been around. Explosions and men in black covered far more emotional mileage than your school hustlers or gang violence.

  He wrapped his free arm around me, still holding a gun in the other. The men talked through matters, a buzz surrounding me as the shorthand and slang didn’t add up to sentences I could follow. I could not begin to guess if that was purposeful or from years of working together.

  Because, the assumptions of life in Tower House from before had come to roost, had they not?

  The businessmen with their bodyguards and the closed-door meetings. I’d known Thorne was not just a normal businessman. I’d known the house and its occupants held secrets I’d never be privy to. And yet, my imagination had not run as far as the truth.

  “Are you cold?” Thorne grabbed the blanket of the edge of his bed and wrapped it around me.

  I hadn’t realized I’d begun to shake, my muscles feeling tight and my teeth a quick, rapid chatter.