Caro sat up and clutched her legs against her chest. The words sounded as if they were being dragged out of her. It took a few tries before she could even begin.
“It was November and cold,” she said. “I remember that. I had my thin wool jacket on and I was thinking how it never got cold in the city.” She laughed unevenly. “It’s funny how you recall these things. Stupid and meaningless.”
Eric curled himself behind her and stayed silent, giving her the room she needed to say what had never been said.
“I’d been at the library, picking up some reference books for work. They must have been watching me, must have known my routines. There were two of them.”
Caro paused to take a deep breath. “There were two of them,” she repeated. “At first I thought they were after my purse. I let it slip down my arm but when it hit the ground, I knew I was in real trouble.”
She finished the story quickly, as though she couldn’t wait to get it over. The terror she felt at being dragged into the alley. The unheard screams for help. The way the knife thrust didn’t even hurt at first but how she could feel it being pulled out, cutting its way back through the flesh. Then again. The gush of blood when they sliced her stomach.
Then, she said, nothing but blackness.
There was a long pause before she started again. “I healed as well as could be expected, but I’m still afraid of the night.” She laughed shakily. “Like a little girl.”
“Never,” Eric said fiercely. “You’re a fighter. A survivor.”
“No.” The word was barely more than a sigh. “I used to be. I was tough. They all called me a bulldog.”
“Who did?”
Her hand reached up tentatively to stroke his face. “I thought it was over when he was in jail, but I always wondered if he’d find me again. I had no proof, but I knew it was him.”
“Who?” Give me the name, he begged silently. Let me make him suffer.
“I didn’t tell the truth earlier.”
Suddenly, he knew what she was going to say. “It was Iverson.”
“They were his men.” She said it reluctantly.
Decades ago, Eric had been with a woman who said he made her so angry she saw red. At the time, he’d thought it was an interesting way to put it. Exaggerated, of course, but evocative.
He hadn’t realized at the time that he could become so filled with rage that his vision would actually be tinted with the blood boiling in his veins. Until now. Before, his hate for Franz Iverson had been somewhat detached. Iverson was a ruthless man who had to be stopped. It was a matter of business and fundamentally conflicting worldviews, but nothing personal. Iverson wanted what was his, and Eric wouldn’t let that happen. What happened when Iverson drew Caro into it merely confirmed his decision. He wasn’t worried, because he knew he could keep her safe.
Now, as he held Caro’s shivering body and remembered the thick, jagged scars Iverson’s thugs had left on her golden skin, he realized that he was going to take great pleasure in ripping Iverson apart with his bare hands. Had Caro thwarted him? What had happened?
Caro’s shoulders shook and he tried to cool his anger. His Caro—because she was his, even if she didn’t know it yet—his proud and feisty woman, had been turned into a little mouse by Iverson. It cut him to see her like this but Eric was under no illusions. He wasn’t a therapist or a doctor. He couldn’t help her like that.
He was, however, a soldier. Soldiers were trained to take out threats.
First, though, he had to keep her safe. “Caro.”
She shook her head, her dark waves swishing against his chest. It wasn’t going to be easy to get the rest of the story.
“Iverson didn’t come to you yesterday because you know me, did he?”
She shuddered in his arms. “I’m a different person now. I…” She took a deep breath. “I…”
A resounding knock came at the wooden library door. “Sire, the power should be on in several hours.”
Eric cursed the interruption but Caro shook her head and blinked as though she was coming out of a dream. She pulled the robe tighter around her body.
“I got in the way of his business once,” she said. “Iverson. Then he saw me on the street here and recognized me.”
As he suspected. It was typical of Iverson to turn to violence to remove any barriers. No doubt he thought that a woman he’d already hurt would be too frightened to say no to him now. “Listen to me. I’m going to tell you straight because you need to know. You need to stay here. I can protect you here.”
Her back stiffened so fast it was as if she’d been jerked on a chain. “I said I’d do one night and see.”
Eric exhaled slowly. Beaten by Iverson she might be, but Caro had an independent streak a mile wide that nothing could take away.
“You can’t go back to that apartment.”
“I’ll move.”
She didn’t understand. Her association with Eric could mean her death warrant. If it wasn’t for him, she would be safer. Iverson would fuck with her head, terrorizing her to revel in her fear, but probably not kill her. Stopping her on the street was only the beginning. “He’ll find you.”
“No, he won’t.” She sounded too confident. Eric gently pulled her around until she faced him.
“Why not?”
“Because he won’t know what I look like.” Caro paused and it was as though she had to force the next words out. “I’m going to learn to take on a masque. If that’s what I need to do to stay safe, I’ll do it. You’re going to teach me.”
Chapter 25
Did she ever think she would say those words? Eric wondered. In the dim light, Caro looked stunned, as though she couldn’t believe what she’d said and still heard them reverberating in her head.
“Are you sure?” he asked. His hand rose to stroke her hair and she leaned into his touch. Something clicked deep in his chest.
“No,” she admitted. “I’m not. I hate it. It makes me feel sick, but that doesn’t matter. If this is how I can be free from Iverson, then that’s what I’ll do.”
“Hate? Or fear?” His voice was gentle. “What do you feel?”
“Both.” She paused. “Fear.”
“It’s a scary thing,” he said. “I was terrified when I first started.”
She laughed shakily. “Not helping.”
“We need to talk about this before you do it. Why do you hate the idea of taking a masque so much?” It was almost pathological, but Eric didn’t see the benefit in pointing that out.
“My mother was a masquerada. I never saw her as my mom. She was always someone else. A stranger.”
Eric tread carefully. “Strangers is what it may look like, but that’s only on the surface,” he said. “We take on masques. Our core self remains unchanged. She was always there.”
“Which is fine if that’s what you’re raised with or what you are. My dad and I—not so much. Dad couldn’t handle it.”
That made sense. “Humans find masquerada exotic at the beginning, but then want the stability of a relationship. It’s rare for a partnership to even start in the first place. All arcana are incredibly cautious about humans knowing what they are.” He didn’t add that such relationships were frowned on in general as they contravened the Law.
“My mother was a loner. She didn’t have any friends, that I know of anyway, and Dad would have died rather than betray someone’s trust. He was loyal to the core. It was my mother who chased him away. All he wanted was for her to be the person he fell in love with when she was with him. That was it. She couldn’t even do that.”
“And for you? Would she do it for you?”
A hint of desolation entered Caro’s face. “Dressing up and pretending to be someone else was more important than her own family. Then when she couldn’t do it anymore, she killed herself.”
“I’m sorry.” Eric laid h
is hand on Caro’s, then tugged her close. She felt small in his arms. He filed away her mention of her mother’s inability to take on masques and subsequent suicide. Now was not the time to go into it but it gave him a sick feeling.
“I don’t understand why we weren’t enough for her.” Caro’s voice was muffled against his shoulder.
He spoke into her hair. “I can’t say how she felt, but I can tell you that for me, it’s not dressing up. It’s like breathing—something I have to do, something I can’t live without. Your mother may have been trapped between two worlds, each wanting her to conform in its own way.”
“It’s hard for me to believe.” Caro’s voice was fierce, but she stayed nestled in his arms. “You have to take on a masque? What if you don’t? What’s so bad about being one person?”
What if he didn’t? He would lose everything. His throne. His value. His power. Perhaps his life.
Yet, he wanted no secrets from her. Better she should know now, and judge, before he fell even deeper for her. “We suffer.” He inhaled, then said the words out loud for the first time. “I can’t take on masques anymore. It’s been…difficult.”
“What?” Caro sounded shocked. “Is that what happens after a convergence?”
“Sometimes.” Why was he doing this? She was going to leave him. She may be only a half-masquerada but the respect for power was so ingrained in their culture that it seemed almost genetic. Perhaps that’s why he had such a hard time fighting it. Shit, did he even believe it himself? What was it that disturbed him most—the thought that others would despise him, or the contempt he felt for himself at his own inability? What was a masquerada who couldn’t masque? It was in the damn name, for God’s sake.
“What happens?”
“There’s a wall that I can’t seem to get through. I want to shift—I wanted to shift—but then I…can’t.”
During the silence that followed, all Eric could hear was the thundering beat of his own heart. This was it. He’d said it. It was real. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t take on a masque. He wasn’t worthy. Soon, he would feel her warmth moving away from him. She’d be gone, disgusted by his weakness, the same way his people would.
Instead, her hand came and lay flat on his chest. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I understand.”
“You do?” He was floored.
“Kind of, with the dark. I can’t go out in it. I haven’t been out after dusk in a year.” She laughed without humor. “So I get it.” Her hand inched down and grasped his.
He blinked, filled with wonder. She didn’t despise him. She didn’t leave.
Too bad he still despised himself.
Caro was still speaking. “Will it be hard for you to help me?”
He couldn’t believe she was worried about him. He cleared his throat. “I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
He slid his hand around the back of her head, twining his fingers in her hair, then leaned forward until his lips were almost touching hers. “I’ll never lie to you.” The words tickled her mouth.
“You won’t?” She sounded vulnerable.
“I swear. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ll help you, if you trust me.” This time he claimed her mouth, and she parted her lips, letting him in deeper.
Then he pulled back. “Do you trust me?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? Did she? He watched her, almost seeing the words write themselves across her lovely face. Her mother must have hurt her deeply and Eric ached for that lost little girl. It wasn’t surprising that it had colored her experience of her masquerada nature.
“I don’t know,” she finally said. “I think so.”
He chuckled deep in his throat. Caro was nothing if not honest. It was what he admired most about her. “That’s better than nothing. Let’s see if I can change your mind at all.”
* * * *
Caro felt his hand slide into the front of her robe, and around her body to pull her tighter. He bent down and kissed her again, plundering her mouth as she gasped beneath him. Then, he lifted her.
“Bedroom,” he murmured. “Now.”
“I can walk.”
“No.” He moved her so that her legs wrapped around his waist and his hands cupped her ass. “I don’t want you to.”
“So I can do this?” Caro shoved her hands between them and quickly unbuttoned his jeans, springing him free. Then she wriggled so that her slick core was pressed against his rock-hard shaft. He almost stumbled and she laughed. “Two can play that game.”
His eyes darkened. “You’re going to regret this, Caro.”
“Oh?” She squeezed her legs even more tightly around him, moving so that he almost slipped into her. It felt amazing but she refused to give in to the temptation to ride him as he carried her. “I’m not feeling much regret here.”
“If you’re trying to get me to hold you up against that door and fuck you until you beg for more, I’m here to tell you that you won’t succeed.”
“No?” Another wiggle, this one at an angle that hit her exactly right. She moaned softly, almost shaking with the need to feel him deep inside of her now but also loving teasing him.
“God.” Eric groaned. “Keep doing that.”
Keeping Caro tight in his arms, he left the library and was up the stairs before she could react. As he placed her gently on the bed, she gaped at him. “How the hell did you move so fast?”
“I told you. Fast-twitch muscles.” He moved around and candles began to flare, casting a warm glow over the room.
Caro looked down. Her robe was still tied but had opened enough to show a sliver of her body. Now he knelt beside her and slowly untied the belt. “We’re going to play a game this time,” he said, his voice low.
“What’s the game?” she asked as he leisurely spread her robe. She loved the abandoned feeling of simply lying there as he exposed her to his hungry gaze.
“The game is easy. All you do is make a choice. Either I’ll do whatever you want me to do, while you lie there and enjoy it. Or, you’ll do whatever I want.”
Her head swam with possibility. “Anything at all?”
“Anything.” He pressed his big hands on her stomach, circling her waist with his fingers. “Which do you choose?”
God, what a choice. She debated, weighing the idea of being Eric’s willing sex slave against being able to completely dictate his pleasure.
“Hard decision?” His voice was teasing and his hands moved up toward her breasts. That cinched it.
“Not at all.” She smiled at him. “I’ve decided.”
“And?” He all but purred at her as his hands captured her sensitive nipples. She arched her back in pleasure.
“I’m in charge,” she said confidently. “You’ll do as I say, Hierarch.”
His eyes flickered. “As you wish. Command me.”
“You’ve got too many clothes on,” Caro mused. She was going to enjoy every moment of this. “Take them off.”
He rose gracefully off the bed and stood beside her. Hooking his thumbs under the hem of his shirt, he drew it off slowly, while Caro feasted her eyes. It was impossible for a man to be so perfect. Shadows played on his broad chest and shoulders. Muscles rippled down to form a sharp V at his groin. His jeans soon joined his shirt and he stood proudly nude, his cock springing up and so hard that Caro nearly abandoned her game to beg him to take her.
Show some patience. “Come here.”
Smiling slightly, he stepped forward until he was standing against the edge of the bed. Caro came up to her knees and shrugged the heavy robe off her shoulders. “Now, don’t move,” she said. She brought her mouth to his abdomen, marveling at the feel of the heavy muscles under her lips.
“You’re not playing the game,” Eric warned her.
“I am. I told you not to move. The rule is you do what I say
and I enjoy it. Correct?”
He groaned as she reached down to grasp his cock with both hands and gave it a slow stroke before letting go. “Yes.”
“Good. Then don’t move. If you disobey me again, you won’t be allowed to speak, either.” She got off the bed and walked around him, shaking her head at the sheer gorgeousness of his body. His ass was incredible, with long indentations on the flanks showing where the muscles lay beneath his smooth skin. Standing behind him, Caro pressed her breasts into his back while she ran her teeth along his shoulders. Damn, I wish I was taller. The man’s neck begged to be kissed, especially where it met the broad shoulders. Never mind. She’d make do. Bringing her hands around him, she ran over the muscles of his wide chest before sliding her hands down his sides, admiring the feel of him. Then, she returned one hand to his chest, flicking his nipples while the other circled his cock. She caressed him gently, barely touching the burning flesh.
“Do you like this?” she whispered.
“Yes.” It was more of a groan than a word.
“Tell me what you want. That’s an order.”
“Let me feel you,” he said through gritted teeth. “Let me taste you.”
“How do you want me?” Caro was so hot she could barely say the words.
“Like this.” He pushed her down on the bed, on her back so that her legs were hanging off the side. Kneeling between them, he reached up and put a heavy hand on each of her breasts, pinching her nipples until she cried out in pleasure. He teased her for a moment, breathing lightly on her mound before lowering his mouth to capture her center. Caro writhed but his hands kept her from moving too far, keeping her in place at his mouth.
This time, his tongue took the place of his fingers, pushing deeply inside to explore her. He settled into an unpredictable rhythm that had her hips bucking—deep thrusts interrupted by hard licks and gentle bites.
Her head spun. She urged him on with her hands, running them through his thick hair. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “Don’t stop.”
“Is that an order?” he murmured against her.
“Damn straight.”
Her back arched as she approached her peak—and he stopped, looking at her with eyes glazed with lust before flipping her onto her stomach.
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