Masterful 2 (An Erotic Dark Romance)

by Jesse Joren

  "Fuck you, Rosine," he snarled. "You ruin everything. Fucking poisonous bitch."

  "Hex, it's me. Eva," I said in the most soothing tone I could. "You're having a nightmare."

  "Did it hurt when you went under?" he slurred. "Stay buried, bitch. Don't you…don't you…"

  His eyes were starting to unfocus, the harsh grip loosening.

  "I mean it. Don’t you…don't…"

  "I won't," I said, my voice trembling.

  "Cunt," he said clearly, making me catch my breath. A moment later he was unconscious again.

  My whole body was stiff with gooseflesh. The hatred in his voice had been like a physical thing.

  Who was Rosine? He'd once cared enough to add her name to his body. What had she done, or not done, to make that hate pour out of him? Or maybe anti-venom wasn't like booze that brought out truth. Maybe it just made you see what wasn't really there.

  The fire was dying, so I got up to add wood. The Ruger on the table caught my eye.

  Did it hurt when you went under? Fucking poisonous bitch.

  I went to the gun and checked to make sure it was loaded. Just in case.

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  The night passed with agonizing slowness. Without a phone or clock, there was no way to tell time. There were some energy waffles tucked into my pack. I washed one down with water, and it tasted like caramel sand.

  Several times Hex muttered out loud, but he didn't wake up. I was afraid to go near him now, but I wasn't locking myself up while he struggled here. At least I could make sure he wasn't alone.

  You should have taken those keys and left before the storm hit.

  That was the smart thing. The logical thing. When had anything about my relationship with Hex been logical? If I had been smart and careful, we would never have met in the first place.

  And there was a deeper truth that I had been crushing down for hours. Now it rose up, and I could no longer fight it.

  I was terrified, plain and simple. With every minute that passed, I realized that he'd downplayed how bad the bite really was, no doubt trying to protect me.

  Watching him thrash and rave made me feel more helpless than I'd ever felt at Walden. We'd been through so much strangeness, wasted so much time, but I was only starting to know him. He could die here away from any kind of help, with me unable to even get to his truck in the dark.

  Surely life couldn't be so cruel, to take him like this. But I no longer had any belief in the fairness of life. Michael had been snatched from me without warning. I knew all too well that Fate was a heartless bitch who laughed at my tears and then pissed in my face.

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  "Eva."

  I jerked up from trying to focus on my book, hearing the strain in Hex's voice. Outside the storm continued to roar.

  Cautiously I approached the bed. He looked tired, but he smiled at me in that way that made my heart do funny things.

  "Could one of you get me some water?" he asked.

  Relief crept through me. The fury had gone from his eyes, but he was so pale under his tan. I held the bottle for him to drink.

  "How bad was I?" he asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

  "Not too bad," I lied. "You just thrashed around a lot. I was afraid you were going to run outside or hurt yourself."

  Or me, if I got too close.

  "You look exhausted," he said.

  "Thanks for the compliment. So do you," I said.

  "We may both be more tired than this before it's over," he said. "I'm going to need another dose. I think the fucker had more venom than I thought."

  "Bring me the kit in my pack," he added. "I'm seeing two of you and both are blurry. Stop me if I try to ram the needle in my eye."

  Once he had the kit, I saw what he meant. He had trouble filling the syringe without help. In the end I guided his hand and clumsily helped him do the injection, just above the bite. His sharp whistle of breath told me how much that hurt.

  That's all your fault too.

  "Whatever I did or said, tell me later," he said. "It'll probably happen again. There's some rope in my pack."

  For the briefest instant his smile resembled the sly grin so familiar to me.

  "Just this once," he said, "you get to tie me up. Get the rope. There's a knife in there too."

  The bundle I pulled from his pack was typical white cotton clothesline rope. The bed had rough, low posts at each corner, heavy and square. I looped the rope around Hex's wrist closest to me, then again.

  "Evangeline," he whispered, "this is at my pleasure, not yours. Don't forget that."

  This was serious business, but I couldn't stop a smile as I knotted the rope around his wrist. He raised his arm and allowed me to pass the length around the heavy post, giving him enough slack to rest it on the pillows.

  "I can tell you don't know shit about knots," he said. "Double-knot that one, and tighten this one on my wrist. I could slip this, easy."

  "Excuse the hell out of me," I muttered, jerking the knots tighter.

  Hex nodded. "Good. Now the other side."

  That post was against the wall. There was no way to get to it unless –

  "You'll need to get on top of me," he said. "Straddle me and tie my other wrist."

  My face flamed as I climbed on top of Hex, one knee on each side of his waist. I was able to reach his wrist now with no problem, but I had much more trouble with the knots.

  Slowly he bounced me a couple of times. Even as weakened as he was, I felt the power in him. His muscles were hard, and there where our bodies pressed together, something was coming alive –

  "The knots," he reminded me. "What's wrong? Distracted?"

  "No," I mumbled, making him flash that weak grin again.

  Finally I got his other arm attached to the bed, though there would be no prizes awarded to me for grace. As I climbed off, he tested the knots.

  "That's better," he said. "Just a precaution. This round should do it."

  That strange glitter was forming in his eyes again, despite his casual words. I wanted to be optimistic, but I dreaded that the worst was yet to come.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  This time Hex didn't sleep after the shot. He dozed and tossed fitfully while I watched from across the small room. The books were forgotten. No way I could focus.

  A sudden sharp sound made me jump. Hail, beating on the wooden shingles.

  Even in his twilight state, Hex heard it too. He strained against the ropes.

  "Give me the gun," he demanded. "Killing you, fucker."

  If anti-venom was truth serum, I didn't like to think what Hex's past had been. He looked at me and through me, his eyes glittering in the firelight.

  "Thought you were gonna kill me, huh? You're not that fucking good."

  His laugh sent a prickle of horror through me. The posts creaked as he tugged at the ropes.

  "Get these goddamn snakes off me," he snarled.

  A moment later his voice trailed off to a mutter, his eyes going unfocused.

  "It's all gone," he mumbled. "Strathshade is gone. No more killing, no more Rosine. Gone like the fucking wind."

  I wished he'd stop talking about killing. I wished for the anti-venom to wear off. I wished we were both back at Walden, debating business and the finer points of Candide. Even the bike was looking like a great option right now.

  His eyes were still half-open, words pouring from him. Words about bastards and double-crossers and deals gone bad. Strathshade, over and over. About killing.

  "Rosine?" he called.

  "Here," I said through clenched teeth.

  "I know why you're still here," he said, a crazed smile on his face. "Like witchcraft right? I got the cure for that voodoo shit, Rosie. Got it right here."

  His arms strained against the ropes as he whipped his head to the right. Like a wild animal he snapped at his upper arm, his teeth barely grazing the ROSI
NE on his skin. The ropes held him as he bit air, but another half inch…

  A vivid mental picture rose before my eyes. The ropes gave way as Hex chomped into his upper arm, ripping away the tattoo and leaving a ragged hole.

  Again and again he lunged at his own arm, each effort growing a little weaker. Finally he hung from the ropes, his pants filling the small room.

  "Next time, Rosie. Last trace of you. No more voodoo. Stay dead."

  I backed into the darkest corner behind the stove until he could no longer see me. That seemed to help.

  "Good. Stay gone this time," he muttered.

  His mumbling trailed off into regular breathing after a few moments. I was grateful for the silence.

  Guess the tat won't be a problem if he bites it off.

  If he was no better at dawn, I should take my chances with the storm and rough trail, taking the gun with me. It would be the smart thing to do.

  Damn straight. Start getting things together.

  But his crazed ravings and self-cannibalization attempts didn't matter. Being smart didn't matter. I was staying with Hex until…whatever. No way I could leave him like this because –

  That dangerous truth tried to surface again. I mentally slammed the door on it and threw the deadbolt.

  The truth was complicated. It always was. And no truth in my life was ever more twisty than my feelings for Hex. In the darkest part of my heart, I thought he might have saved my life.

  My thoughts returned to those scars on my ankles. Always on the ankles, never the wrists, keeping the evidence of my pain hidden. The secret that only he and I knew. No confessional booths or therapists for Eva Bright.

  Before Hex showed up, those cuts had started losing their dark magic to take away my pain and grief. My thoughts had been drifting to more unspeakable things.

  Things like handfuls of sleeping pills. Gas stoves left running at bedtime. Bridges with shallow guardrails that crossed conveniently deep water.

  Maybe that was why I'd never really worried about Hex hurting me. It wasn't just that I didn't think he would. Some part of me had shrugged and said, "So what if he does?"

  Yet in the end, Hex and his twisted diversions had taken me from that dark path, made me savor the taste of my own life again. He had been my captor and my savior.

  For fuck's sake, Eva. Just admit it. You're in love with him.

  I whipped around to see if Hex had somehow heard that forbidden thought. He was having a low, intense conversation with someone who wasn't there.

  I hated that inner voice. Especially when it was right.

  Somewhere along the way, I'd fallen in love with the enigma that was Hex. Maybe that happened long before he turned up in Atlanta. Waiting for just the right spark to set things aflame.

  Now he didn't seem to want me anymore, and it hurt. Was he just on a power trip after all? Or maybe he didn't know how to end whatever this was, now that the thrill had worn off.

  The storm outside provided a good cover for the sobs that I could no longer hold inside. They ripped out of me like rusty blades, pain and relief all at once.

  It took a long time for my tears to stop. Meanwhile Hex went on pulling the ropes and cursing, fighting ghosts only he could see.

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  Gray light filtered into the cabin and woke me up some time later. I was curled between our packs on the floor, using mine as a pillow. The fire had gone out in the night, leaving me shivering.

  I glanced at Hex. At first I thought he was asleep, but his tired eyes were on me, the same gray shade as the morning.

  "How long have you been awake?" I asked.

  Every muscle was stiff and sore when I sat up. My eyes felt puffy from crying, but maybe I could pass it off as lack of sleep.

  "A little while," he said. "I wanted you to rest."

  "How do you feel? I asked, getting to my feet.

  "Hungry and tired," he said, "but whatever was working in there is gone. I haven't been able to check the bite. I order you to untie me."

  In spite of my depressed mood, that made me smile a little. I got the knife and slashed the knots. His wrists were raw from straining against the ropes.

  "Good knots," he said, "no matter what grief I was giving you. How bad was it?"

  What's bad? Just a nice long rant about bastards and killing and shooting. With a side of spooky Rosine thrown in just for fun.

  "Not too bad," I said. "You slept a lot when you weren't trying to gnaw off your own arm."

  Tired or not, his eyes were sharp as they read my face.

  "You still lie for shit," he said.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Hex raised the tousled sheet to check the bite. It was incredible how much of the red had receded, the swelling rapidly disappearing.

  Just tell him already.

  Nope. No way.

  While he gulped down two bottles of water, I got a clumsy fire going again in the little stove. Hex was still in nothing but his black briefs. Even after wrestling with toxic venom for a night, his beauty made my heart hurt a little to look at him.

  "I'm going down to bathe at the stream," he said, gathering up his clothes. "It's going to be cold as hell, but that might not be a bad thing."

  Tell me about it.

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  "So how are you really?" I asked him when he came back a short time later.

  He toweled his wet hair and thought about it for a minute. He'd dressed in his boots and jeans, but his chest was bared in all its golden glory.

  "Whatever poison was in there, the anti-venom burned it out," he said. "Something to eat and I'll be fine to walk out of here. I'm hungry. Good sign."

  He sometimes didn't strike me as fully human. How could someone just have breakfast after night like he'd just passed? My eyes couldn't stay off the snakebite.

  "Do you want me to clean that up a little more?" I offered.

  "If you want," he said. "There's a first aid kit in my pack."

  "It's probably going to leave a scar," I said as I found it.

  "Probably," he agreed with a crooked smile. "So did I say anything interesting last night? Like talking in my sleep?"

  Looking down at the kit gave me a good excuse to avoid his eyes.

  "Sounds like you had a love-hate relationship with Rosine," I said, deciding to let it go at that.

  Hex didn't say anything, examining his bite as if I hadn't spoken.

  Did you expect anything else? The guy is nothing but a big ball of secrets.

  "That's kind of a long story," he said finally. "Not one to tell on an empty stomach."

  "Okay, but I'm not going to forget," I said, sitting down on the bed and opening the first aid kit.

  He smiled at me and brushed his fingertips against my cheek. In spite of the awful night that had just passed, a thrill went through me.

  "My darling Evangeline," he said, "I have no doubt about that."

  The bite looked much better after a good cleaning. It was two ugly punctures that I guessed would leave a pair of white little scars in time.

  "You probably need a tetanus shot," I said, taping gauze over the wound.

  "I'm current for overseas trips. Lately some private business has kept me mostly local."

  He gave me a knowing smile. His whole upper body seemed to flow and ripple whenever he moved. Bitten and bandaged, tired and worn, he was still the most beautiful guy I'd ever seen.

  Somewhere in the dark night just gone by, my feelings for Hex had intensified. My faint glimpse of his inner demons made me want to run away, but they also made him seem human.

  "I saw some concentrates in the packs," I said, changing the subject.

  "After last night, I owe you breakfast," he said.

  "You owe me already. I'll put it on your bill."

  "I'd hate to see how high that tab is now," he said.

  "Pretty high," I said. "Don't think I'm being nice, by
the way. I just don't want you dripping venom and blood into my food."

  "Deal," he said with a smile.

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  If I say so myself, the breakfast wasn't bad. Powdered eggs and freeze-dried bacon made a decent omelet. The stovetop coffee was the star of the show, though I was never going to be a fan of canned milk.

  Hex looked more normal now, sitting across from me at the tiny table. He paused over his coffee.

  "What?" he asked. "Something wrong?"

  "I was just thinking that you don't look like a man who was just poisoned by a rattlesnake," I said.

  Not to mention trying to chew off your own arm.

  "I'm glad it happened here," he said. "Otherwise you would have been in a tent, and I would have been tied to a tree."

  "What is this place?" I asked.

  "It came with the property. Probably an old hunting cabin. I just made repairs and supplied it."

  "I like how the trees grow all around it, sort of hiding it," I said. "They must keep it really cool in the summer."

  "You may live in the city, but you're an Alabama girl at heart," Hex said.

  "Hey, we have cities in Alabama too," I objected.

  "It's not an insult. Far from it. It's one of the many reasons why –"

  For some reason he stopped.

  "You're asking a lot of questions," he said. "My turn. Why didn't you leave?"

  "In that storm? Are you crazy?"

  "You could have left at first light. I was even tied to the bed. You must have had some reason."

  I had reasons, all right. But there was no way he was hearing those from me.

  "Human decency?" I suggested.

  He didn’t press me further, getting up to pour more coffee for us both. Even so, there was a pleased look in his eyes.

  "Why do you have this place?" I asked. "Another cabin hidden in the woods. Isn't Walden enough?"

  He laughed. "Walden. Is that what you call it?"

  "Well, it sort of is," I said. "It's isolated, and it's primitive, even though you have technology hidden in it."