by Lili Valente
No matter how many times Jackson assured her that he was firmly on the mend, he knew she was concerned about the isolated state of the cabin and worried about what would happen if his health took a turn for the worse. He also knew that he should be grateful for her love and concern, instead of frustrated by the constant reminder of his own vulnerability, but he couldn’t help wishing she would stop worrying.
He was just so damned grateful to have her back and safe. He wanted to enjoy loving her and let things between them go back to normal.
But worry seemed to be Hannah’s new default setting and things remained far from normal. She still refused to do anything but sleep in their shared bed, insisting she was too afraid of hurting him to make love gently, let alone anything else. Jackson intimated that there were games they could play that had nothing to do with rough stuff, but Hannah acted as if he’d suggested she punch him in his bullet wound so he’d let the matter drop.
They had time. There was no need to rush or push Hannah to drop her guard before she was ready.
They spent the next three days reading by the fire and watching the snow cover the valley below their window, but the energy between them wasn’t the same as it had been on the island. Before, they’d enjoyed easy silences. Now, something lived in the air between them, an unspoken fear Hannah refused to name. Every time he asked her what was bothering her, she would smile and insist that everything would be better as soon as she knew he was really going to be okay.
He wanted to believe her, but couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed, something that might not be as easily mended as his flesh and bone.
By the time the snow melted enough for them to drive into town for supplies on Christmas Eve day, Jackson was going stir crazy and desperate for a chance to prove to Hannah how rapidly his health was improving. They had breakfast at the Four Seasons and then drove to the town square.
There, the fresh snowfall made the Old West style buildings look like something out of an antique Christmas card and strings of brightly colored lights lit up the archway of elk antlers marking the gateway to downtown. Jackson had never been a fan of the holidays—any holiday—but as he and Hannah stepped out into the brisk morning air, he found himself looking forward to exploring and picking out a few surprises for Christmas morning.
“So where do we want to go first?” Hannah asked, looping her arm through his and huddling close to his side though he knew it was more to offer him support than to absorb his warmth. In her heavy white wool coat and white rabbit skin hat, she was more appropriately dressed for the weather than he was in his thick black sweater. “The art gallery looks interesting.”
“It does,” Jackson agreed as he gently detangled her arm from his. “But we aren’t going anywhere. I’m going to need a little time alone to buy presents.”
Hannah scrunched her nose, but he could see the smile she was trying to hide. “You don’t have to get me anything.”
“I know I don’t have to,” he said. “I want to. Let’s meet at the Cowboy Bar in an hour. We can have another coffee and check out the gallery after.”
“An hour,” she repeated, nibbling on her bottom lip.
“Do you need more time?”
“No, I don’t need more time.” She reached up, adjusting the tension on his sling for the third time this morning. “I’m just worried about leaving you alone for an hour. You only have one arm.”
“One arm is sufficient to get my wallet out of my pocket and put it back in again,” he said dryly. “I don’t plan on buying any souvenir antlers so I’ll be fine to carry the packages, too.”
Her frown remained in place. “But what if you get tired? Or what if something happens and you need my help?”
“Nothing’s going to happen.” Jackson forced himself to smile. “I’m fine. The pain is manageable, the wound is closing well, and I haven’t had any fever in five days. It’s time to relax.”
“But you’ve been resting for the past five days,” she said. “You haven’t been traipsing around all over the place shopping and exhausting yourself in the dead of winter wearing nothing but a sweater.”
“The sling wouldn’t fit with my coat and I’m not going to be traipsing, I’m going to be walking at a sedate pace.”
“But—”
“I’ve never traipsed a day in my life,” he pushed on. “I wouldn’t know how to traipse if I tried and shopping is hardly in the same league with the amount of exercise I’m used to doing on a daily basis.”
“You don’t usually have a bullet hole in your chest on a daily basis,” Hannah grumbled, but he could tell that she’d realized it was time to cut the apron strings. Or at least let them out a little.
Thank God. As sweet as her concern was, he was starting to feel suffocated.
“Fine, go shop,” she said with a sigh. “But call me if you get too tired or need my help. And make sure you’re at the Cowboy Bar in exactly an hour or I’m going to come looking for you. And I’m not going to be happy when I find you.”
You aren’t happy now. The thought flashed through his head unbidden, leaving him feeling the cold for the first time this morning.
She wasn’t happy and he couldn’t help feeling like it was something more than his injury causing the sparkle in her eyes to dim.
As he kissed her goodbye and crossed the street, bound for a local crafters’ store and the jewelry store beyond, he decided it was time to put an end to the weird dynamic between them before things got any worse. And he suddenly had a good idea how to start bringing them back together.
Hannah was a strong woman who had proven how brave she was, but she was also submissive. His submissive.
She’d given him so much trust in such a relatively short amount of time. She’d abandoned herself to him, trusting in his strength and control, and then he’d been shot, proving that he was flesh and blood like any other man.
“No wonder she’s scared,” he mumbled as he pushed into the crafters’ store and was enveloped in a rush of warm, dry air, feeling like an idiot for not sensing the reason for her withdrawal sooner.
But Domination wasn’t only, or even primarily, about flesh and blood. Domination was about power exchange and trust as much as sex toys and spankings. He might not be able to throw Hannah over his shoulder and tie her up in a sex swing anytime soon, but he could still take her to the place of safety and abandon she had come to crave. He could still make it clear that he was in control and she could trust him with her pleasure and her pain.
But you can’t promise not to die, leaving her vulnerable and alone.
Jackson frowned down at a row of antler bracelets and delicate white bone earrings carved into lace displayed in the case in front of him.
“Can I get something out for you?”
He glanced up to see an older woman with gently weathered brown skin and bright green eyes watching him from the other side of the display, her long graying hair pulled into a bun and her trim form encased in various shades of brown fleece. There was nothing remarkable about her—aside from the pretty shade of her eyes—but Jackson was struck by how relaxed and happy and normal she seemed.
This was the kind of life Hannah would have had if he hadn’t taken her away from her aunt or taught her to crave sharp edges and pain with her pleasure. When she was happy, it was easy to defend the love they’d found, but watching her fret herself into losing five pounds in four days made him wonder if he was doing the right thing.
No matter how much he loved her, would his love be enough to keep her happy in a world designed for people like this? Normal people who didn’t get off on games played in the shadows?
“Maybe these aren’t quite your speed,” the woman continued, seemingly unfazed by Jackson’s lack of response. “That’s all right. Bones and horns aren’t for everyone.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I mean yes, you have some very nice things. I’d like to see the earrings, please. The ones on the far left.”
With a smi
le that crinkled the edges of her eyes, the woman unlocked the case and reached inside. “Excellent choice. These are my absolute favorites. It’s amazing how Becky can make a little piece of animal bone look like a scrap of lace like that.”
Jackson picked up one of the earrings, letting it dangle from his thick fingers, feeling clumsy and out of place. It had been so long since he’d bought a woman a gift, and even longer since he’d wanted her to like it as much as he wanted Hannah to like the things she unwrapped tomorrow morning.
He only wanted to please her, but somewhere between losing her in Tahiti and finding her in Florida with her hands creased and red from the fabric she’d used to kill a man, he seemed to have lost the knack for it.
“It’s delicate but still strong,” the woman mused, studying the earring from the other side of the case. “A beautiful contrast.”
Delicate, but strong. Like Hannah.
“I’ll take them,” he said, setting the earring back beside its mate. “Do you gift wrap?”
“Not usually.” The woman’s grin widened. “But seeing as you’re in a bit of a bind with that arm and it’s the day before Christmas I can make an exception. Just let me go beg some paper from my friend across the way. Be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
Jackson nodded, moving off to one side of the case as two teenage girls pressed up against it, studying the bracelets.
It was true, bones and horns weren’t for everyone. Neither was the lifestyle he and Hannah had chosen, but they could make it work, as long as he remembered to take care of every part of her—the strong and the delicate, the tender lover and the stubborn worrier who drove him crazy, the brave defender of the people she loved and the frightened woman who looked at him like he might vanish before her eyes leaving her alone.
But he was made of tougher stuff than that and as soon as he got Hannah home he was going to prove it.
With that in mind, he decided against the charm bracelet he’d been planning to buy her at the jewelry store, opting instead to look for something with a more significant meaning.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Hannah
Hannah barely had time to hang her hat on one of the many hooks inside the door and unzip her coat when Jackson slammed the door behind them and ordered—
“Clothes off, on your knees by the fireplace.”
Startled by the abrupt return of his Dom voice, she spun over her shoulder, arousal and unease flooding through in equal measure, leaving her feeling like a light socket that had started to short circuit. “B-but you’re still in pain, I don’t think—”
“I didn’t ask what you thought. I told you to take your clothes off and get on your knees.” He tossed the bag he’d brought in from the car onto the floor and prowled toward her, a hungry look in his hooded eyes that made it clear he meant business.
Or pleasure, rather.
This was the side of Jackson that she usually associated with pleasure, the side that could make her knees weak with a look and her panties damp with a single command. But right now she didn’t want to play games. She was too worried—about him, about the future, and about what Dominic was going to find out now that he’d tracked Harley and Jasper to a village in southern Thailand.
Just the thought of her secret calls to her new spy was enough to cool her desire.
“No. I don’t want to, Jackson,” she said, hanging her coat beside her hat.
Before she had time to say another word, he was across the wide foyer, his good hand fisting in her hair.
She gasped as his fingers tightened at the nape of her neck, her bones melting the way they always did when he touched her like this—like she was his to pleasure or punish as he saw fit. She hadn’t realized how much she missed the thrill of danger mixed with seduction until he drew her tight to his chest and spoke in a dark whisper—
“You don’t tell me no. No is not in your vocabulary when I want you naked and kneeling. Do you understand?”
Hannah bit her lip, torn between the lust spreading, hot and thick, through her mid-section and the fear that Jackson was going to hurt himself trying to prove something that didn’t need to be proven. She was his. She belonged to him and they belonged together and there would be time for the game when he wasn’t barely a week into healing from a gunshot wound.
“No is in my vocabulary when you’re being an idiot,” she said, arousal mixing with the anger in her tone. “I’ll get on my knees, but you have to promise to sit down and take it easy.”
“You don’t give orders,” he said, using the fist in her hair to half drag her across the room to the fireplace, proving he had more strength left in that big body of his than she’d assumed. “You don’t tell me when to sit still or shut up or stop asking for what I need from you.”
“Jackson stop, I—” Her words ended in a cry of pain as she tried to pull away and he answered her attempt by tightening his grip at the base of her neck.
“I’m hurt, but I’m not dying and I’ve still got more than enough mental and physical strength left to top you, sunshine.” His voice was so deep she could feel it vibrate the tips of her nerve endings, sending a fresh sizzle of desire tingling across her skin, making her nipples pucker. “Now take your clothes off and get on your knees. This is your last chance to have this end well for you.”
Hannah glared up at him, her breath coming harsh and uneven. She was turned on, there was no doubt about it—and it was clear he was determined to have his way, even if he ended up ripping his stitches in the process—but instead of reaching for her sweater zipper, she shouted the first word that came to her mind.
“No!” Her volume was loud enough to echo through the room, but saying it once wasn’t enough. Now that she’d started, she couldn’t seem to stop. “No, no, no!”
“No?” Jackson repeated, soft and cold, his control stoking her anger.
“No!” she howled, barely resisting the urge to punch him in the stomach. “I said no, damn you, so let me go!”
“No isn’t the word you use,” he said, again in that completely calm, even tone that made her want to scream. “If you want this to stop you use your safe word. Anything else I’m going to assume is a challenge to up my game until you feel safe again.”
“I’ll never feel safe,” she said, tears spilling down her cheeks, shocking her. She hadn’t even realized she was about to cry.
“And why’s that?” He pulled her closer, pinning her to the strong side of his body though she squirmed to get free. “Why can’t you feel safe?”
“I don’t know,” she sobbed, overwhelmed by terror and rage she hadn’t known she was feeling. “Let me go. I don’t want to touch you right now.”
“Why? Am I hurting you?”
“No,” she snapped, then added with a sob, “Yes, now let me go.”
“I’m never going to let you go,” he said, vulnerability flickering behind his eyes. “You’re mine. Your pleasure and pain are mine, your happiness and sadness are mine, your fear and hurt are mine.” He leaned down, pressing his lips to her forehead before adding softly, “But I can’t help you control any of those things unless you give me the reins, Hannah.”
She sucked in a breath, fighting to keep her face from crumpling. “But I’m afraid,” she said, trembling as the truth she’d been hiding from herself came clawing its way to the surface.
“What are you afraid of?” he asked, his voice gentle now though he didn’t loosen his grip on her hair.
“You said you had respect for life, but not hers,” Hannah said, a dam breaking inside of her. “You said you would never doom your child to having her for a mother. But what if you did, by accident? What are you going to do?”
Jackson froze before pulling back to look down into her face.
“What are you going to do?” Hannah choked out between sobs as Jackson’s hand slid from her hair. “You can’t take her son away. She loves him more than anything. I don’t know what else to believe about Harley, but I believe that. Jasper is the
only thing that matters to her, the only thing she’s living for.”
His lids closed, concealing his eyes, so she had no idea what he was thinking.
“I wanted to tell you right away,” she babbled on, her nose beginning to run. “But I didn’t have a chance to find out if Jasper was yours and I didn’t want to upset you while you were trying to get better.” She sucked in a breath. “But most of all I didn’t want to think about you having a baby with my s-sister. I hated the thought so much I wasn’t sure I was going to tell you, even when I knew the truth for sure.”
She sniffed hard, ashamed of herself now that her secret was out. “But I should have been honest with you, even if I didn’t want to be. I’m sorry.”
Jackson’s eyes opened, but he didn’t look at her. He kept his gaze on the ground as he nodded toward the fireplace, “Sit down on the couch. I’m going to bring you something to drink.”
Hannah gulped. “But I don’t—”
“Sit down, Hannah,” Jackson said, loud enough to make her jump before she backed away to sit down hard on the supple leather couch cushion.
She threaded her fingers together in her lap, heart racing as she watched Jackson move across the large open room to the kitchen. The average person wouldn’t be able to tell that anything was wrong, but Hannah could read the tension in his movements as he fetched a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water from the refrigerator door.
He was upset, most likely angry, too, but her mind couldn’t think past the relief coursing through her.
No matter how much she dreaded the conversation they were about to have, she was so grateful to sense the miserable distance between them beginning to fade away.
She accepted the glass Jackson offered and took a long drink as he crossed the room to the bookshelf and plucked a box of tissues from beside a set of leather-bound classics. By the time he returned—placing the tissues within her easy reach before sitting down on the wooden coffee table facing her—she’d stopped crying and was ready to accept whatever came next.