Masterful 2 (An Erotic Dark Romance)

by Jesse Joren

"There's one more piece of gear we need," Hex said, unzipping a side pocket of his pack.

  "What might that –" I began, but the sight of what emerged stopped me cold.

  He was holding a soft, black leather collar, complete with silver buckles and a D-shaped ring in the front. It looked expensive and feminine, but there was no mistaking its authority.

  "I don't think that's going to fit you," I said.

  He smiled a little, but his face was serious.

  "Turn around, Eva. The buckles are stiff. You wouldn't be able to work them."

  Slowly I turned away from him, my eyes fixed on a yellow flowering bush several feet away. His fingertips brushed against the nape of my neck as he pushed my hair aside. A shiver went all the way down to my toes.

  Really? He's putting a collar on you like an animal, and you're about to fall at his feet?

  That voice could sneer all it wanted. There was no denying the sudden, hot desire that this oddly formal little ritual created inside of me. Each soft clink of the buckle, each brush of the leather only sharpened those sensations.

  "There," he said after a moment, setting the leather band around my throat. "This will keep you close to me."

  For a brief moment I allowed my eyes to meet his, but the intensity was too much. I pretended to study the tops of my boots.

  "It will, huh? So what is it, a shock collar? Fifty thousand volts if I take off in the woods?"

  I sensed his smile, but he didn't answer, making me wonder what else was in his pack.

  "Let's get going," he said.

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  "Do many people use this trail?" I asked some time later as we wound through the trees.

  "No," he said. "I made it myself. Private trail, private property."

  "I thought you said about six miles each way."

  "That's right."

  "Wouldn't that would be thousands of acres?" I asked.

  But I wasn't sure about that, since math had never been my strongest skill. Measurements didn’t interest me much, except for the distressing ones around my waist and hips.

  "Just under a hundred thousand acres," he said. "I own everything since we turned off the highway onto that dirt road."

  "All of it?"

  My mind reeled at the implications. Holy shit. That was a fortune in land alone, and never mind anything that might be on it or under it.

  Hex glanced over his shoulder as we moved.

  "Everything here," he said with emphasis, "is mine from top to bottom."

  The delicate collar abruptly seemed warmer, more snug around my throat. I put my head down, concentrating on the trail. The quiet rumble of his laugh drifted back to me as we worked our way deeper into the pines.

  Hex moved ahead of me on the trail, his footing sure and firm. His strength and grace were like some half-tamed animal that didn't know what tired meant.

  In spite of all this serene beauty, my thoughts returned to the sore spot inside of me. Sure today's kiss was electric, but why hadn't he approached me since that sweaty, messy encounter in the sink?

  The night of my Michael dream somehow didn't count. That wasn't attraction. It was something else that still eluded me.

  For the hundredth time I told myself that it was a good thing he was leaving me alone. That it shouldn't matter to me. But it did.

  "Something's on your mind," Hex said after a long stretch on the trail. "What is it?"

  "I'll tell you when we stop," I said, hoping he'd forget.

  "There's about another hour until we get to the end of the trail. We're going to have some food, then I'm going to ask you again."

  Okay, he probably wouldn't forget. At least it would give me time to decide what I was going to say. Or make up a good lie.

  Sometimes dishonesty was the best policy.

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  "So what do you think?" Hex asked. "Welcome to one of the tallest secret spots in Georgia."

  "It's beautiful," I said. "No wonder you keep it a secret."

  Instead of the trail petering out into the woods, we were standing in a clearing with a panoramic view on three sides. Miles of dark green pine forest stretched in gentle, rolling hills. After the months of Walden's walls around me, the open vista made me light-headed.

  A hundred thousand acres. He could be lying about owning it, but I believed him. It was in the glow in his eyes, the satisfaction of a man surveying his private kingdom.

  "That's the idea. Not even any cell signal here," he said. "That's why my phone stayed in the truck. We have a place completely away from the world."

  The sudden, intense look he gave me made me wary again.

  "You owe me an answer," he said. "What were you thinking on the trail?"

  "Did you say something about food?" I hedged. "That mocha was a long time ago. Food always comes before answers, right?"

  He pointed to a nearby pile of limestone slabs.

  "You can see all the way into South Carolina up there," he said. "I'll climb first and help you up, then we'll eat. Then answers."

  When he started to unfasten his bulky pack, I suddenly saw my chance for a rare advantage.

  "Last one up is a rotten egg," I teased, sprinting for the rocks.

  My legs didn't even feel tired. Exhilaration coursed through me, a feeling of physical confidence I'd never had before.

  "Eva, wait," Hex called, sounding startled.

  That only increased my cockiness. For once I had the upper hand. Shock collar or not, I didn't think he'd zap me.

  "I can't hear you," I called over my shoulder

  The rocks were rough and warm in the sun. The large, irregular slabs created a sort of crude natural staircase.

  A quick glance back at Hex showed that he was shedding his pack. Determination shot through me. I grabbed at an exposed root for balance and started to climb.

  "God damn it," he said, and now there was real anger in his voice. "I said stop."

  Perversely I sped up, hearing his feet pounding on the hard ground. A low buzzing thrummed in my ears as adrenaline kicked in.

  An instant later he crashed against me, pinning me against the rough rocks. A sharp outcropping was inches from my face. A little to the right and I might have cut my face. Or my eye.

  The buzzing seemed to grow louder, fueled by my anger.

  "What the hell—" I began.

  A brownish blur moved in my peripheral vision. Then I realized that it wasn't adrenaline making that sound. It was the warning rattle of a huge snake coiled on a rock ledge two feet away.

  Snakes won't bother you unless you bother them first. They'll scat when they hear you coming.

  Uncle Dale had said this many times after his encounters with snakes while hunting deer or collecting ginseng. He knew his way around the woods.

  Apparently this pissed-off snake didn't get that memo. With a final sharp burr of its rattles, it drew tight and struck from its coil with lightning speed.

  Impossible to see behind me, but there was no sensation of being bitten. It had missed, striking more in warning than a real attack. Now it would follow the script and flee for its life.

  We had been damn lucky. That was close. Way too close.

  Hex's quiet words in my ear killed the beginnings of my relief.

  "Let's pitch camp," he said. "I don't think we're going to make it out of here tonight after all."

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  "Hold onto the rocks. I'm going to let you go," he went on, his voice eerily calm.

  His body peeled away from mine, then I heard the low whump as he leaped to the ground. It was closely followed by a wet, ripping sound that I couldn't place.

  "Fucker," Hex said, then his hands were on my waist. "Let go, Eva. I've got you."

  An instant later he swung me to the ground. His hands were all over me, urgent but gentle.

  "Did it hit you?" he asked. "Do you feel a bite?"

  I sh
ook my head. "No, it missed."

  There was no mistaking the relief in his voice.

  "He was only batting .500 then."

  "What do you mean?"

  "He didn't miss the second time," he said.

  That was when I noticed the faint bloodstain on Hex's white T-shirt, on the left side near his ribs.

  This was my fault for being a smartass.

  My fault.

  "How bad is it?" I asked, trying to stay calm.

  "I've been bitten before," he said. He gestured to the ground nearby. "That one had a full middle, so it ate recently. The bite should have less venom."

  The snake's head had been ripped off, leaving the limp body in a blood-soaked spot on the dirt. It was as big around as my lower arm at the thickest part, at least three feet long.

  "It was a shame to kill him," Hex said, and there was real regret in his voice. "Very old, from the number of rattles. If it was just me, I would have let it go."

  With a sick feeling, I remembered those wet, ripping sounds. I took a queasy breath and tried to remember what little I knew about snakebites.

  "Let's use the packs to make a pallet. The ground is rough, but—"

  Hex gave me a crooked smile.

  "Did that turn you on?" he said. "Guess I should have had a snake bite me before now, if it makes you want to take me to bed."

  "You shouldn't be moving," I insisted even as I flushed. "That will make the poison move too."

  "I have a better place in mind than hard ground," he said.

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  "I would never have noticed this," I said a few minutes later.

  Hex had led us away from the clearing and into the woods. A small cabin nestled between two huge oaks. It was hard to see, with mossy walls and wood shingles acting as perfect camouflage.

  "That's the idea," he agreed.

  He dropped his pack onto a small kitchen table with two chairs. There was a stone fireplace in one corner, and a set of bunk beds against one wall.

  "There's a shanty in the back with supplies," Hex said, "and a stream out back with clean water. The woods are the bathroom here."

  He unzipped his pack and rifled through it. In a moment he came up with a large Ruger that he laid on the table.

  "Listen to me," he said. "Things may get crazy. Take this until tomorrow morning. Shoot anything you think is a threat. Me included. Understand?"

  I nodded, feeling sick dread collecting in my belly.

  "There's food in the pack, and in the shanty," he went on. "Candles, wood. A storm is coming tonight. I thought we'd be gone ahead of them. Mr. Diamondback fucked up my plans."

  Blood had dried to a stiff little patch on his side. I swallowed hard.

  "Hex, how bad is that bite really? Don't bullshit me."

  He looked at me as if gauging whether I wanted a comforting answer, or an honest one.

  "A lot of snakebites have hardly have any venom," he said. "Dry bites, they call them. All bites are worse closer to the heart, but I've had a bite before. This doesn't feel that bad."

  He dipped into his pack again and came up with a kit. It contained several small vials and matching syringes.

  "Anti-venom," he said. "A partial contingency plan. This isn't the ideal way to receive it, but it's the only option out here."

  He stripped off his shirt. The punctures were puffy and rimmed with red congealed flesh. It looked bad, but I didn't know enough to gauge how serious it was.

  In spite of everything, Hex without his shirt was a glorious thing to behold. The muscles of his chest and back rippled sinuously as he moved. The jeans clung to his hard waist, accentuating the tapered lines of his body.

  My eyes drifted to the tattoo on his upper right arm. The delicate white lettering of ROSINE seemed to dance on his skin as he moved. It was the prettiest and ugliest thing I'd ever seen.

  "Do you have something I can use to wash that bite?" I heard myself say.

  He pulled out a few alcohol wipes. I opened one and began to dab at the punctures. Though I tried to be careful, Hex winced.

  "Keep going," he said. "Even a dry bite can get infected."

  As gently as possible I cleaned the bite until all the blood was gone. Hex's scent curled around me, both memory and promise. Snakebite or not, I found it impossible not to react to him.

  Once the wound was clean, Hex opened the kit and started to fill a syringe. When it was done he turned to me, more serious than I'd ever seen him.

  "I may say and do some crazy shit," he said. "If I get too bad, lock yourself in the shanty. I'd send you back to the truck, but I don't want you wandering in the woods alone."

  He gave me a small grin.

  "You find trouble without trying. If there's an oversized python loose out there, it will end up wrapped around you. Not that I blame it."

  His words were light, but I didn't like the fevered glitter already starting in his eyes.

  "I'm not going anywhere," I said. "Are there any sheets?"

  He jerked his head toward the back door.

  "The key is on the nail by the door. You better get going, unless you want to watch," he said, positioning the needle over his ribs.

  As a matter of fact, I didn’t. I headed for the back door.

  The door opened onto leafy ground. A trail led off to one side, presumably to the stream, and the shanty was on the other side.

  When I unlocked the weathered door, a cool, woodsy odor drifted out. The small room was lined with shelves that were filled with metal boxes. I located a box marked BEDDING.

  Inside was a plastic-bagged set of dark-blue sheets, a blanket of a lighter blue, and a thin pillow. My hands moved automatically, my thoughts far away.

  Five months ago, Hex had kidnapped me and spun an elaborate lie to cover it up. He'd run me ragged by manipulating my pride, my body, my emotions. By any definition, I had been a prisoner.

  This was my chance. But I wasn't running, and I wondered exactly why that was.

  Something occurred to me for the first time in a long time. I put down the bedding and propped my leg on the shelf, loosening my boot laces. My fingers slid inside the thick sock, probing.

  The scars on my ankles were flat now. The last one I'd put there, the deep one Hex had cleaned and bandaged, had left a tiny lump deep under the surface. My finger traced it, a permanent souvenir.

  The feelings I had for Hex were as snarled as those scars, and just as much a part of me. Twisted or not, he had saved me.

  I wasn't the kind of girl to run out on my debts. Yes, that was it. In a queer way, I owed him. Otherwise I'd be out of here in a flash.

  Why can't you just admit the whole truth, even just to yourself?

  With hurried jerks I re-laced my boot and gathered up the bedding. Truth was like medicine, taken in measured doses. That was enough for now.

  Things were going to be fine. He'd taken the anti-venom in time. The night might be long, but it couldn't really be that bad.

  Several hours later, I wondered bitterly how I could have been so naïve.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Rain was lashing against the cabin's single window, occasional drops sizzling as they fell into the fire. Outside the wind howled and clawed at the roof.

  Several thumps had signaled large branches hitting the cabin. This was a strong storm, but the tiny house stood sturdy in spite of being old.

  Dark came early along with the storm. The fire gave warmth and light, with the candles helping out. The storm didn't worry me. The woods didn't either.

  Hex, on the other hand, was scaring the hell out of me.

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  After the injection he'd downed a bottle of water and pulled off his shirt and jeans. Today he was wearing black briefs that fit him like a glorious second skin. Then he stretched out on the bed I'd made up for him.

  "There are a few old books out back," he said. "Probably I'll just slee
p this off, so they might keep you from getting bored."

  Almost immediately he went to sleep, one arm thrown over his eyes.

  I didn't want to be creepy, but this was my first chance to observe him without having to keep up my guard. When his breathing told me he really was sleeping, I stole over to watch him.

  With effort I forced my eyes not to dwell on the delicate tattoo on his right bicep. There were a lot of better things to look at in front of me.

  How beautiful he was, tall and sprawling over most of the double bed. Relaxed in sleep, his face lost some of its control and looked younger, more carefree. I could believe now that we weren't that far apart in age.

  His chest and hard stomach gleamed in the dim light. My eyes wandered down his body, down to where the waistband of his jeans cut off my view. All I had to do was –

  That was when I headed out back to find something to read.

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  Two hours later I was feeling pretty good after a dinner of protein bars and some water. Hex was asleep, and rumbling thunder was announcing the coming storm. The cabin seemed almost cozy.

  The books were oldies but goodies. The Wagons West series. Long ago my family had borrowed and traded these same titles until they were falling apart.

  Once I glanced up from Independence! to smile in Hex's direction. He was more retro than I'd thought. Then my smile faded. Was that just a trick of the light, or did he look different?

  I took the candle and went to him, holding it high. His vibrant tan had taken on a waxy sheen, drops of sweat standing out all over his face. His lips were no longer relaxed, but pressed tightly together.

  With care I pulled back the blanket to check the bite. The swelling was worse, dark purple starting to infiltrate the red.

  There was a clean T-shirt in my pack. Dampening it with bottled water, I wiped the sweat from Hex's face, and he was still and unmoving as I worked.

  Then his eyes flew open, wide and gray and angry. I jerked back, but his hands shot up to grip my shoulders, hard enough to hurt.