by Sophie Stern
So, what was it that he wanted?
To her surprise, though, the man didn't react to her question. He didn't stride over and grab her by the throat. He didn't choke her or shake her. He didn't smack her. Part of her wanted him to react. There was a part of her that wanted to see now, right up front, just how dark and angry this guy would be.
Was that so wrong?
She'd never been interested in guessing games. Nope. That wasn't Zoa. Before she'd been taken, she'd been analytical and intelligent. She'd worked her ass off in an accounting firm and her primary job was being able to assess risks and benefits of different things. Now she used that in her everyday life.
Only now, she was assessing him. What did this guy want? Why had he taken her? Oh, she knew her dream was right. He had saved her. He had rescued her from Kellen's place. She never would have escaped without him. Mr. Brotella was shrewd and uncaring, and Zoa wasn't an idiot.
Well, she was an idiot enough to have gotten herself kidnapped.
Still, she knew what he'd been planning. He had been installing new security measures because she'd been trying her best to escape. No matter how much he did, though, she would never stop trying to escape. She'd never stop fighting.
She couldn't.
Zoa just didn't have it in her. She had already lost her identity and her job and her house and her family. She'd already lost everything else that mattered. She didn't want to lose her soul, too. If she gave up trying to escape, it would be like saying that her previous life didn’t matter. It would be as though she were admitting defeat. Once she did that, she’d be no better than the other servants who actually worked for Brotella of their own free will. Yeah, they were being paid, but she’d seen the deadness in their eyes. They’d looked sad. Defeated. They’d looked broken.
"Well?" She asked the man. He was her rescuer, she knew. She should be more respectful. Still, she was scared. She was afraid. What if he wanted to hurt her, too? He could at least be up front about it so that she knew. “What do you want from me?”
He was an unknown. He was something she didn't quite understand. She couldn't figure out where he was coming from or what it was that he wanted, and she hated that not knowing. If he could tell her that he was going to torture her or hit her, then she’d be able to mentally prepare for that. As it was, she wasn’t sure whether she should be laughing or crying or relieved or scared. She needed a clue.
"It seemed like you were trying to escape from Kellen's mansion," the man finally said. He stayed perfectly still. He seemed like he was in no rush at all. Why was that so calming to her?
"Okay." Zoa whispered the word.
Okay.
She was acknowledging what he had said. He noticed she was trying to escape, and that was true. He’d helped her. She still didn’t know why
He raised an eyebrow and waited. He kept watching her. The man didn’t move his eyes away, but he wasn’t staring at her in a creepy way. He just looked like he was giving her a chance to formulate her thoughts.
Fuck, this guy was patient as hell. How'd he get to be so patient? In Zoa's life, she could get pretty much anything by out-waiting other people. Most of the time, people got tired of waiting after just a few seconds of awkward silence. Nobody liked the idea of being socially uncool, so after a moment or two, people always tried to fill that silence with words.
That tactic wasn't going to work with this dude, she realized. He wasn't going to make it easy on her. He was used to being patient, for some reason. She didn’t know what that reason might be.
"Yes," she finally said. "I was trying to escape." There. She’d admitted it. She’d told the truth to this stranger.
"Why?"
He still hadn't moved. She realized he was doing that on purpose. He wanted her to be comfortable. Why? Why was he concerned with her comfort? Maybe he wanted her to be calm. Maybe he thought that if he stayed perfectly still that she wouldn't freak out. Well, it was working. She wasn’t panicking. If he’d been moving or talking more, she would have already tried to run. She could feel it in her bones. She was smart enough to know that whatever this guy was, he was fast. Even if she ran, she wouldn’t get very far from him.
"Because he kidnapped me," she finally said.
It was the first time she'd said the words out loud, and they were just as horrifying as she thought they were. Oh, she knew she wasn't a child. Kidnapping wasn't really the right word, was it?
Abducted.
She'd been abducted by a psycho, and this man had saved her.
"Tell me what happened," the man said gently.
Zoa stared. She bit her lip, and she closed her eyes, and she took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes again, she looked at the man. He seemed so gentle. He was asking such a small thing of her, too. He just wanted to know her story. He wanted her to share it with him.
Could she do that?
For him?
She didn't want to trust him. She wanted to believe he was just another monster, but there was something about him that really was different. She wanted to know what that was. His question, his request, had been so simple. She took a deep breath. She could do this. She could share who she was with him. She could tell him what had happened to her.
"I lost my job," she whispered.
She expected him to say I'm sorry or to offer some sort of condolence, but he didn't. He stayed quiet, and somehow that was easier. If he had interrupted her, even to offer an apology for her unfortunate circumstances, she would feel the need to ramble. As it was, he was giving her the opportunity to just share the specifics. She could tell him as much or as little as she wanted. There was no judgment or commentary coming from him.
"It wasn't my fault," she said. That didn't make her feel better. It was the truth, though. "Someone framed me for something. My boss...he made me the fall guy for his son's mistake. It was brutal. The boss' son lost us a big client and they pinned it on me, so I was fired. The worst part was that even though it wasn't a criminal act, it didn’t matter. In my profession, if word gets around in town that you can't be trusted, and it's impossible to find a job."
That was what had happened to her. Her boss had called every accounting firm within two hundred miles and said not to hire Zoa. It had been very effective, she thought.
Zoa’s rescuer still didn’t speak. He waited. His silence was calming to Zoa, and she found herself talking more. She felt a little freer to express herself and to tell him exactly what she was thinking. He wasn’t interrupting and asking questions, so she didn’t have to worry about explaining things in more detail. She just said what she was thinking.
"After that, I kept trying to find jobs, but I couldn't. My landlord wasn't exactly forgiving when I didn't have the ability to pay rent anymore, so I ended up in my car."
That memory made her blush. She’d always taken pride in being good with money. That was something her parents had instilled in her. She didn’t like to carry debt, and she wasn’t afraid of hard work. Despite her dedication to her career, though, she’d ended up homeless. It was embarrassing.
Humiliating.
She was 28 years old. She was old enough to have a real career, and a life that she liked. She’d been well on her way to reaching her goals, but she'd lost it all.
Everything.
Mr. Brotella had taken advantage of that.
"I met Mr. Brotella at a bar," she said. "I was applying for a hostess position, and he saw me. He was having a drink there, and while I was waiting for the manager to come take my application, Mr. Brotella said that he had a business and needed new team members. He asked what I'd done before, and when I mentioned accounting, his eyes lit up."
She knew now that it was a set-up. He'd waited for her to say what she liked to do, and then he offered her that very thing. It had been a good ploy. It had worked on her fair and square. She’d been desperate, and she’d fallen for the line.
"He fed me a story about how he needed an accountant, and he set up a time to meet with me.
When I went to his office for the interview, I knew right away that something was wrong. I had a sinking feeling that something bad was going to happen. I just didn't know what."
A growl escaped the lips of the man sitting on the beach, and Zoa's eyes widened. Why had he growled? Somehow, she had the idea that he was angry with Brotella: not with her.
"Tell me," the man said. It was the first time he’d asked for more details, and she nodded. She would tell him what had happened to her.
It was hard to think about what had transpired, though. She’d been applying for so many different jobs, most of which were entry-level, that she had jumped at the chance to get a “real” position. It sounded like the job with Brotella was going to be similar to the work she’d done before. She liked playing with numbers. She liked math. Accounting was something that just made sense to her. Kellen’s offer had been perfectly timed, and she’d been desperate enough not to focus on the red flags.
"He started asking me questions. Everything seemed normal at first. He asked really standard questions. You know, he wanted to know where I’d gone to school. He asked about my previous experience. Then he’d casually asked about my family. He wanted to know if I had relatives in the area.”
It had been a strange question, but she hadn’t thought it was weird enough to get up and leave. In hindsight, she should have lied. She should have said she was living with her mom or that she was in town to spend more time with her dad. She could have told Kellen that she had a boyfriend or someone who cared about her. She could have said anything except was she actually had said, and then maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have taken her.
“I was truthful. My parents are dead. They died a couple of years ago. I really poured myself into work after they passed away, so I’m good at what I do. He seemed pleased by that. I thought it was just because he was glad to have an interviewee who was experienced, but now I know he was just happy nobody would miss me. Then someone brought in drinks for us..."
And that was where her personal safety training had gone out of the window. She knew perfectly well not to accept drinks from strange men, but that had always applied to bars - not business meetings. She had thought that this time, it was safe, but Zoa had been wrong, and it had cost her everything.
"When I woke up, I was in a bedroom in his house. The door was locked. I didn’t know what was happening. I had no idea where I was. I eavesdropped a lot. The air vents in his house...well, the sounds carry more than he knows." She took a deep breath. “He left me alone for a long time, locked up in that room. It didn’t take me long to figure out what he wanted to do to me, though.”
The thought made her sick.
Kellen hadn’t raped her. Not yet. He’d been like a cat with a mouse. He’d played with her over and over, hurting her in different ways, but never going in for the kill. Once he crossed that line, Zoa wasn’t sure if she’d be able to recover. Apparently, Kellen had sensed that weakness in her, so he’d waited.
"He was going to hurt you," the man on the beach said. His voice was low. He sounded tired. He sounded angry.
"He already did." Zoa blushed and then shook her head. "I tried to escape before today, so..."
"What did he do to you?"
Zoa could tell him. Right? It wouldn't be so bad. She could show him. She didn't want to, but somehow, she felt like she owed this man her truthful honesty. She could do this. After all, he’d patiently listened to her story, and he hadn’t seemed to judge her. He’d been angry, but that anger was directed at Kellen: not at her.
She stood up and climbed out of the basket. The man didn't move, and that made her feel a little more comfortable. Then she turned around and pulled off her shirt. She let it fall to the sand, and she heard the man gasp.
So, it was worse than she thought.
Fuck.
She knew her back was torn up. The guy had whipped her just days ago. It still hurt like a fucking bitch. Hell, every time she took her shirt off, the scabs were pulled away from the fabric. She bled a lot. She knew all of that. Being punched after the whipping had been bad enough that she’d passed out from the pain. Still, she’d tried to tell herself that she’d survived it, so it probably wasn’t as bad as she thought it was. This guy’s reaction made her realize just how horrible it really was.
"I'll kill him," the man whispered, but his voice was so quiet that she almost didn't hear him. It sounded like a vow. The promise didn't scare her as much as it probably should have.
It just made her feel...protected.
"May I heal you?" The man asked quietly. She turned around sharply, momentarily forgetting she was topless. Then his eyes dropped to her breasts, and she quickly covered them and blushed. Shit. So, this guy probably thought she was a huge slut now. Great.
But what did he mean?
"What?" Zoa whispered. He’d asked to heal her. What did that even consist of? She realized he was a shifter, of course, but she thought shifters just hurt people. Maybe this guy was the opposite of a shifter. Maybe shifters hurt people, but anti-shifters healed them. She didn’t know. It was all too much, and her head hurt from trying to understand.
"May I heal your wounds?"
Zoa noticed that he asked again in a very polite tone of voice. He spoke to her as though he was speaking to someone very fragile and frail, like a grandmother or a little child.
"I don't know what you mean. Do you have a medical kit or something?"
He chuckled.
"Or something. Turn around, little kitten."
She hesitated only for a second before she listened. She didn't know what he was going to do, but the idea of being healed by a big, handsome man was calming to her. Somehow, she knew that this guy, out of all of the guys in the world, this one wasn't going to hurt her.
What was he going to do?
She couldn't be sure.
Hurting wasn't on the table, though. She was safe with him. He’d proven that already. She turned around, closed her eyes, and waited for him. In a minute, she felt his hands on her shoulders. They were a little rough and calloused, but not painful.
"He hurt you badly," the man whispered.
"Yes."
"Now it's time to heal."
Nothing happened for a second, and then she felt something soft and wet against her back. Was he washing her? She hadn't noticed a washcloth in his hands, but a second later she realized what it was.
His tongue.
He was licking her wounds with his tongue.
What.
The.
Fuck?
She jumped up, but his hands held her firmly in place.
"I'm almost finished," he said.
Finally, he pulled away, and she turned around quickly to face him.
"What did you do to me?" Zoa asked.
Once more, his eyes dropped to her breasts, and she realized she'd forgotten about being topless. Quickly, she covered herself, but this time, she realized that she didn't want to. She was being modest and polite, but was it really so bad if this guy wanted to look at her?
She'd never had anyone who just wanted to admire her and to look at her body like this.
She thought she rather liked it.
"I healed you."
"You used your tongue."
"Yes."
"You're not human," she said. She was worried that it sounded like she was accusing him of something, but she wasn't. Not really. This was more of an observation, the same way she'd say, "You own a blue car," or "Your hat is purple."
He wasn't human.
"No."
"What are you?"
"You're curious," he said carefully, cocking his head, "but you aren't afraid of me."
She wasn't, but she should be. He could do anything to her, and while the idea of being hurt by someone like Kellen Brotella scared her, the idea of being touched by this man...
Well, it delighted her, really.
"I'm a dragon," he finally said.
"Dragons aren't real," she whispered.
>
"Oh, we're real," he said.
His eyes were so sharp and piercing as he looked at her, and there were so many things she wanted to say to him.
"Thank you."
"I appreciate being rescued."
"I can't believe you saved me."
"Where have you been my whole life?"
These were all things she wanted to say, but somehow, she couldn't quite get the words out. That was going to be a problem for her. Then she realized that she didn't have to use words to communicate, and things became a lot simpler.
Zoa walked over to the man. She dropped her hands as she moved, and she could see the way he struggled to keep his eyes on hers. He wanted to look at her body, she knew, and she loved that. She loved everything about the way he was looking at her, and she wanted more.
When she reached him, she placed her hands on his chest, and she looked up at him. As soon as he returned her gaze, she leaned up and pressed her mouth to his. It was the softest, sweetest kiss she'd ever felt in her life, and she loved it. She liked the way he was gentle as he kissed her back, and the realization that he was, in fact, kissing her back, made her heart sing.
He pulled away then, and he looked down at her. He reached for her cheek and stroked it softly. The gesture was tender and wonderful. Zoa thought she could stay like this for the rest of her life and never grow tired of being looked at like that.
"What was that for?"
"Thank you for saving me," she whispered. He’d given her a chance to live again. He’d freed her. She owed him everything.
To her slight disappointment, the dragon didn’t say anything for a minute. He just kept looking at her, watching her with those big, deep eyes. She wasn’t really sure what she wanted him to say, but his next words were surprising to her.
"I need to take you home," he told her. He pressed his lips together tightly, as though he was steeling himself. "You're safe now."
"But..."
She didn't have a home to go to. She had nowhere. Nothing. There was nothing left in the world that was hers. She was certain that Brotella had destroyed or ditched her car, and anything she owned was in there. She had nothing left anymore: not her journals or her books or her photo albums.