A WILDer Wonderland - Sexy Stories Of The Season

by Angel Payne

“I don’t yearn for it, all right?”

  He stepped back, making her feel like an astronaut floating in the space where the sun had once burned. “I call bullshit.” He shook his head, the wrath in his gaze joined by something terrible and twisted and full of fury. “Your ass may be the most delectable thing on the planet, but it’s dunked in bullshit, Rayna Chestain.”

  She cocked her head in defiance. “Then maybe you need to take me someplace and spank it.”

  “And maybe you need to stop lying to me like this.” His features broke into a snarl, a look she hadn’t seen him use on anyone since the day Mua had tried to steal her back to Thailand. His torment had petrified her that day, because she knew if the neurotoxin hadn’t debilitated him, it would’ve induced him to kill Mua with his bare hands. His conflict terrified her even more now.

  “Lying?” she sobbed. “Because I’m trying to save this? Trying to save us?”

  “We can’t be saved, Rayna.” He roped his hands around her shoulders and jerked her close, towering over her. “I can’t be saved!”

  She didn’t move for a long second. At last, she raised her fingers to his face, pressing them to his cheek as her chest compressed beneath the weight of wonderment.

  The intense light in his eyes wasn’t the fire of rage. It was the sheen of tears.

  “I love you so much,” she whispered.

  “I love you more.” His words peppered her face in harsh bursts. His stare never left her. “That’s why I have to let you go.” He pressed closer, dipping his mouth toward hers, before yanking back with a brutal choke. “I have to let you find your happiness.”

  As grief clawed at her soul, she curled her fingers in and raked at his face. Hot, wet stings tore down her cheeks. “Does this look like happy?”

  When Z responded with nothing but grim resignation, she clearly recognized her position: at the base of his cliff of stubbornness, without any climbing gear or helicopters. He thought that this valley would bloom for her, make her happy, but the bastard failed to see a crucial factor in his warped plan. She made damn sure he knew about it now, though.

  “You took away the sun.”

  A frisson of confusion twisted across his face. “What?”

  Rayna gazed up at him once more. With shaking fingers, she reached up and unfastened the latch on her collar. As she pressed it into his wide, warm palm, her whisper was as broken as her heart. “You beautiful, amazing idiot. Nothing grows without the sun. Especially happiness.”

  * * * * *

  She’d managed to turn and stumble away, though she’d be damned before returning to their table. Luckily, she found her way past the hostess stand and onto an empty outdoor patio.

  The club was located at the top of a fancy downtown office building, which meant the views were spectacular on the three nights a year the city didn’t get fog, mist, rain, or sleet. Right now, it seemed the elements had tuned themselves into her psyche and decided to bring on a mix of all four to match the freezing agony she’d once called her heart and mind.

  She fell into one of the chairs, hard and wet without its cushion, and curled her knees up to her chest. The patio had a roof but the air itself was a sponge. Within minutes, she was damp and chilled. That was good. Really good. She sat, shivered, and prayed for numbness. And begged Heaven to make her body so cold that her heart couldn’t feel anything, either.

  Heaven wasn’t listening.

  The bitter weight of her tears, spilling from her soul, confirmed that ruthlessly enough. She peered through the haze of them, seeing the world in a blur.

  I have to let you find your happiness.

  She had no idea how she was going to take her next damn step, and he wanted her to go Indiana Jones into the wilderness for happiness? She couldn’t even take retribution by making him sit still for a Raiders marathon.

  She palmed her cold cheek, feeling her lips quiver against it as she did, and rasped, “You still owe me that marathon, Hayes.”

  And a trip to Comic-Con. And tango lessons. And a repair job on the broken shelf in her garage. And a thousand more things that their life together was supposed to be filled with. That their life could be happy with.

  Grief tore through her chest and left her lips on a grieving choke. “Shit!”

  “Not my favorite subject to discuss, but it’s a start.”

  She was about to let the sob-fest commence when the voice, smooth and male and confident, slid across the patio. She looked up to observe a stranger who’d also scooted beyond the glass doors and now leaned against the wall in a stance as polished as his designer tie. The green and black checked pattern of the thing was a trendy contrast to the stripes in his equally expensive-looking shirt, which was encased in a luxurious charcoal jacket. He looked like a guy who occupied one of the huge mergers and acquisitions offices below them.

  And he eyed her like his next big-dollar deal.

  Before Rayna could collect herself to respond, he walked over, pulled a chair next to hers, and sat down in it. That definitely jump-started a few words.

  “Uhhh…as you can tell, I’m not great company tonight.” She nodded toward the door. “I’m sure there’s someone in the bar who’s more your speed, my friend.”

  “You mean the bimbos in matching minis who just want to snag a guy from the tower?” He extended an arm across the chair behind her shoulders. “I was over that an hour ago, which was why I went to enjoy the band.” His eyes, framed by a head of expensively-cut hair, gentled. “As I walked in, you walked out. It appeared your night was turning out as lovely as mine.” He put a scornful spin on the assertion.

  Rayna averted her gaze to her hands, now meshed in her lap. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Suit Stud didn’t take the hint. He tucked a couple of fingers against her nape and circled them there. “For the record, he’s an idiot.” At her curious glance, he clarified, “The gorilla in the dark suit? You came here with him, right? He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, either. Looked like you made off with his favorite teddy bear, which certainly begs the question why he let you walk away. Not sure I’d have been so stupid.”

  “I really don’t want to talk about it.” The glacial air wasn’t so attractive now. She surged to her feet, intending to go in, ask to use the phone at the hostess stand, and call one of the girls from work to pick her up. It was well past Racer’s bedtime, and part of Sage’s treatment plan for her postpartum depression included regular sleep.

  She had to slide against the wall to get back to the door. The wall that Suit Stud was easily able to use to his advantage.

  As he straddled her head with both his hands, he pinned her lower body inside the cage of his legs. “Then let’s not talk, beautiful.”

  He could not be serious. “I—I think you have things a little twisted, buddy.”

  He scowled at her. He was probably pretty cute when he wanted to be, and the bewilderment in his eyes spoke volumes about this tactic being a tried-and-true tactic for him.

  “King Kong dumped you, right? So screw him. Time to take back your life.”

  Damn. Okay, he was serious. “And you’re here to help?” She quirked an eyebrow.

  Suit Stud leaned closer, dipping his dark blue gaze to her mouth. “Don’t get mad. Get even.”

  “No.”

  The growl, so vicious that she wondered how it didn’t visibly knife the air, made Suit Stud shift back a little. Two seconds later, he was forcibly hauled back by six feet. Even then, Zeke didn’t let the poor guy out of his grip. He sat the man in a large decorative planter, face branded in wrath, lips curling in rage.

  “The only ‘getting’ around here is lost, asshole. By you. If you dare even peek at her while you leave, I’ll grab you again for a little neck-breaking practice, got it?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Zeke!”

  The horrified glimmer in Rayna’s eyes cut deep into his gut. The stare was identical to the one she’d worn when he’d been ready to kill Mua’s men for attackin
g her in the street outside Bastille last year. And God help his fucked-up soul, a lot of that same protective fire burned through him now.

  After collecting himself on the dance floor, he’d scoured the club looking for her, needing to make sure she was all right. She’d left her purse at their table, and he didn’t think she was distraught enough to leave without it, but he couldn’t be sure and that scared the crap out of him. Christ. Her collar had only been around his fingers instead of her neck for ten minutes, and he already felt as aimless as a lion tamer in Antarctica. Or perhaps the lion itself.

  After prowling through the place, including a sneaky check of the ladies’ room with his own eyes, he’d caught sight of her outside, being hit on by fifty shades of smooth operator. And his world had gone code red.

  The color still fringed his vision as he parked pretty boy’s ass more firmly in the planter. “Go inside, Rayna,” he growled.

  “Zeke, he didn’t do—”

  “Go inside, Rayna.”

  As the glass door whooshed open then shut, pretty boy glowered at him. “Look, asshole. I was playing nice. I don’t make women do anything they don’t want—”

  “Who the hell are you calling ‘asshole?’” He yanked the guy up by his trendy tie. “Last time I checked, the umbrella of that definition was big enough to include dickheads who openly move in on someone else’s woman.” He leaned over the guy further, grimacing at model’s boy glare of defiance. “Does that sound like playing nice, pretty prince?”

  The guy held up his hands. “Hey, I apologize if I misread the situation. I didn’t know you two were just having a spat. Looked like a break-up to me, She’s not wearing a ring. You can’t blame a guy for making a play to be rebound man, right?”

  A couple of new sensations curled through Z’s chest. Shame. And regret. He swallowed hard before letting the guy loose. “No,” he muttered, “I guess I can’t.” Hell. He’d definitely made plays to be rebound man a few times in his wilder days. Scorching sex, no strings; a coveted gig, indeed.

  His stomach churned at the thought of doing something like that now. It roiled harder when he thought of anybody being Rayna’s rebound man. Ever.

  He mumbled an apology to pretty boy, which the guy easily accepted. But even after the man turned and returned to the bar, his words clung to the air and chilled Z’s bones deeper than the winter mist.

  She’s not wearing a ring…can’t blame a guy…right?

  His bones were freezing. But his spirit was galvanized.

  With a pace he usually reserved for busting in on terrorists, he stormed back inside. As he’d prayed, Rayna was still there. She sat at their table with her coat on and her phone in hand, fixated on the screen as if debating who to call for a ride home. A knot of dread and urgency formed in his stomach. He rocket-boosted the speed on his advance. Put the phone away, Ray-bird.

  As soon as she saw him, she stood. She wasn’t on her feet for very long. He grabbed her, hauled her against him, and crushed her to him in a smash of lips filled with one purpose. Raw, pure possession.

  “Ummm…huh?” she murmured when he let her go, many minutes later.

  Z gazed at her, tugging at her scalp with the same unalterable command that laced his response. “I’m—” I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry. I was wrong. Worse than wrong. I was an idiot. “I’m—”

  Her eyes warmed with gorgeous green lights. “What?”

  “I’m—taking you shopping tomorrow.”

  The lights disappeared. Her gaze narrowed. “Shopping? Why?”

  “You’re going to pick out a ring.”

  “I’m going to what?”

  “You heard me.”

  Her whole face crunched. “No, I’m not sure I did.”

  The adorable pinches at the corners of her mouth were open temptations to kiss her again. Instead, he gripped her head tighter and made sure his gaze drilled deep into hers. “I’m saying—that—I never want this to happen again, okay? You’re mine, Rayna—and damn it, I want the whole world to know it. So let’s go do this thing. I’m ready.”

  Her expression only tightened more. Inch by excruciating inch, she slipped from his hold. As if fate knew he needed a helping hand, the band began a new song. He almost turned and gave the guys a fist pump of thanks. What could express things better in this moment than the classic Aerosmith ballad about not wanting to miss a thing about her? She had to understand things now, right?

  Wrong.

  The tangle in his gut cinched tighter as she stepped back again. “Thirty minutes ago, your story was different.” She shook her head, the move as uneven as her voice. “How have things changed in the eighteen hundred seconds since then?”

  He swallowed hard. Grimaced against the burn in his chest. He’d only known this feeling a few times in his life—every time the team had fallen short on a mission or lost a man in the doing. “Because they were the worst goddamn seconds of my life.”

  “Because I was outside talking to another guy?”

  The burn became a growl. “He wanted to do more than talk, ’bird.”

  “No shit, soldier. But I was fine handling the situation on my own, okay?” She threw up a hand when he drew breath to protest. “You may know how filet a man fifteen ways and jump out of an airplane prettier than an angel, but I went through the same basic training you did, Sergeant. I could’ve turned his backside into a weed just as fast as you did. Remember that.”

  Her rant pushed him down the hill straight into frustrated and desperate, though not before bouncing over boulders of seriously turned-on. The conflict left him standing in a weird paralysis, hands curling into fists, eyes fixed on their dinners, which could have been lemur shit for all the appetite he had now. Like anything about this situation felt any more comfortable. Even the tense moments on the dance floor with her had been better. At least he’d been able to rehearse all that. But this, right here and now…sucked. This was his emotional backside, bare and exposed, hanging off the side of life’s Black Hawk over the surface of fucking Mars. It was strange and scary, and he had no idea what to do except lift his head far enough to mumble back, “Duly noted.”

  The song ended. As the band announced they were taking a break, an uncomfortable silence descended. Rayna tugged at the cuff of her coat as she shifted from one foot to the other. “You know that I love you, Ezekiel Gabriel,” she finally murmured.

  Z let a dark rumble vibrate up his throat. “Yeah, firebird. I do.”

  “Then you also know I won’t go shopping with you tomorrow.”

  She took a soft step closer, which made him look directly back at her again. Fuck, she was so beautiful in the candlelight. Ethereal…and sorrowful.

  “You’re talking about opening up a big chunk of your soul, mister—because as your wife, I’ll demand no less. Less than an hour ago, that wasn’t a change you thought you could make.” She reached into his jacket pocket, where her collar was coiled at the bottom. She pulled it out and wound the leather strand around his fingers. “My heart is in your hands, Sir. Be true to yours in deciding what to do with it. I’ve earned that much from you, Zeke. No matter what you decide, I deserve your truth.”

  He couldn’t reply. But damn it, there was so much to say. She grabbed him in the gonads now just as hard as the night they first met, when the nastiness of doing his job had faded beneath the awe of her serene strength, the enchantment with her frank humor. With the clarity of hindsight, he realized he’d started to fall in love with her right then.

  Life had never been the same since. It would never be the same again.

  Every stunning glimmer in Rayna’s eyes told him that she knew that, too, which meant her demand deserved every shred of honesty he could give in return. She’d given him nothing less from the start, in her friendship, her submission, and her love—and she’d offered him that truth even after discovering how ugly his really was. She accepted him, even after seeing his street rat past and his extreme Dom present. She saw how it all meshed to make him the sold
ier she supported and the man she adored.

  She loved him in spite of everything. Because of everything.

  But he’d been making her extend that love from a distance, behind some damn high fences.

  It was pretty fucking hard to get a ring on a woman’s finger through a fence.

  Could he take the ax out and do it? Let her into places in his life, in his heart, that nobody had been since his tenth birthday?

  He owed her an honest answer to that—no matter how shitty the answer might be for them both.

  CHAPTER SIX

  For the six hundredth time in the last three days, Rayna was wide awake at four a.m., thanks to the most masochistic question her conscience had ever created.

  Why didn’t you just say yes?

  She shook her head and stared at the ceiling, wishing for an answer to magically burn itself there. An answer that made sense, anyway. Because when the man of a woman’s dreams made her most precious fantasy come true, wasn’t she supposed to shut the hell up for all answers except one? Wasn’t she supposed to thank fate for the gift, unwrap it as fast as she could, and clutch it selfishly forever?

  “No.”

  She deliberately voiced the assertion aloud, breaking the thick silence of her bedroom. She didn’t yell or sob it. She only needed to hear it, soft and steady with conviction, reinforcing the power of no to the very depths of her heart. Sometimes, no had to be okay. Sometimes, no was for the best. She refused to settle for yes out of desperation, fear, and Z’s misplaced jealousy. She was better than that. They were better than that.

  She knew Zeke got that part, at least in his heart. But forcing his soul to slog through years of baggage for it, too? Making the man look at parts of himself that hadn’t been vulnerable since he was a kid? Telling him he had to shuck the backpack of pain that he’d carried for twenty years, then jump off the ultimate cliff of commitment with her?

  As the days went by, she started losing hope about a happy answer to that.

  The conclusion, as quiet as her affirmation, somehow ninja’ed past her composure and gashed into her heart. The tears she refused to shed were now impossible to fight, racking her as she grabbed for another pillow. His pillow. Every inhalation was filled with the smell of him. Every exhalation ached with the loss of him. She cried until exhaustion overcame her, dragging her into a sleep as bleak as her heartbreak.