by Erica Woods
What was the point of dwelling on the past? Like me, she should forget everything that brought her sorrow and focus on the life she’d not yet lived. The future could be a happy place; you just had to will it into existence.
“I just—I haven’t had any before,” she finished lamely, taking another nibble of the succulent, dark treat. A part of me wanted to force-feed her every single one in the box. She desperately needed to put on weight, preferably until she had a healthy glow and was nicely rounded. I didn’t understand why, but the thought of her going hungry bothered me.
Probably because I know how it feels.
“Then this will taste even better.” I smiled at her again, a big, playful smile meant to reassure. It seemed to work—she returned it with a tiny, shy one of her own.
Before that moment, I would have described her as plain. The fact that she was underweight obviously had something to do with it, but she didn’t have any striking features. Her face was heart-shaped, charming but way too thin. With hollowed cheeks and limp, brown hair, she looked haggard.
Obviously mistreated.
Her nose was tiny with a stubborn tilt at the end.
Cute.
She had rosebud lips, full and inviting.
Beautiful.
But the rest of her was pretty much just skin and bones. We all towered above her, and Ruarc looked like a giant when they stood side by side. It didn’t help that she had a waist so small I could span it with my hands.
But looking at her now, with her tiny, shy smile and down-turned eyes, I found her almost . . . pretty. Her eyes were by far her best feature. They were endless wells you could lose your soul in, the color matching the chocolate she was enjoying, only filled with so many emotions it almost made me dizzy.
Too expressive.
That would hurt her when not among friends. If one paid enough attention, I’d bet her eyes would reveal every emotion, every thought before it crossed her mind.
Suddenly transfixed, I stared as she popped the rest of the chocolate into her luscious mouth, closed her eyes, and moaned.
“This is . . . incredible.”
Yes. Yes, it is.
11
HOPE
Jason’s tawny eyes were locked on mine. The color I’d previously found a pleasing, warm brown had transformed until his eyes resembled liquid gold.
Like the sun, I thought, mesmerized by the change.
Gone was the playful, flirtatious boy-next-door. The raw, masculine power staring back at me was definitely all man. A scary yet thrilling tension danced in the air, making the fine hairs on my neck rise.
Searching my face, Jason slowly reached out and tucked a stray lock behind my ear. The motion, the closeness in the act, frightened me, made me think of the violence of men.
Ruarc’s snarling face flashed through my mind.
I had to remember that I didn’t know these men. Even though they hadn’t hurt me yet, it didn’t mean they wouldn’t.
Before his hand could make contact, I jerked back. It was pure reflex, something I’d learned while under the care of the Hunters.
“S-sorry,” I whispered, unsure how he would react.
A dark laugh rasped up his throat. “Never be sorry for following your instincts, love.” His intense gaze left me to roam over the garden before fixating on something far away. There was a weird quality to his voice when he spoke next. “Always do what makes you happy.”
Happiness was the furthest from my mind. Safety and survival was all that mattered. To find a way to be out of the Hunters reach for good without forfeiting my life.
Maybe if I stayed here long enough the Hunters would stop looking for me. I could make my way to Canada, find my uncle before they could kill me.
Relieved he wasn’t angry with me, I decided to let the subject drop. “Could I ask you a question?”
Attention back on me, he lifted an eyebrow and waved his hand, as if to say, ‘by all means.’
I wasn’t sure how to ask without being intrusive, so I hesitated.
“Don’t worry, love, I won’t take offense. Ask whatever your little heart desires to know.”
“Are you guys related?” Before he could answer, I plowed ahead, worried I would lose my nerve if I didn’t get it all out now. “I mean, you all live here together, right? And normally only family lives together. Unless I remember wrong . . .” I trailed off. Could I be wrong about that? Did friends live together? Or maybe . . . maybe they were more than friends. Unsure why the thought depressed me, I peeked up at Jason. His eyes were sparkling with repressed laughter.
“We are . . . business partners,” he said, grinning down at me. “And friends, you could say. But, yes, we are family. Family by choice, rather than blood. We have known each other for many, many years, and although they annoy the piss out of me sometimes”—his eyes warmed and his voice deepened with feeling—“I would die for them.”
Sorrow flooded me. I could feel how much he meant those words. Had anyone ever felt that way about me?
“How long have you known Ruarc?” I asked, thinking about the vicious fight they’d been in earlier and wondering if maybe I hadn’t overreacted. The careless way Jason responded when confronted with Ruarc’s rage indicated he didn’t think Ruarc would seriously harm him.
“Ruarc, eh?” The way he looked at me was unnerving. Before I could freak out under his scrutiny, he averted his gaze and replied, “Around twenty years or so.”
“Twenty?” That was a surprise. “You must have been young when you met.”
“Hmm?” He stared at me, then blinked slowly. The way his eyes widened just a crack made me think something I’d said was troubling him. “Oh, yes. Erm . . . quite young.”
“So you are childhood friends, then?”
Jason laughed, a loud guffaw that made me jump in my seat when it blasted out of him. “That’s rich, love.”
I raised my brows in confusion. If they weren’t childhood friends, then that would put Jason between thirty and forty years old depending on when he considered childhood to end. “How-how old are you?” Heat crept up my neck. Concentrating on forcing it back, I wondered if I’d overstepped. My mother once told me you should never ask people their age, but I hadn’t been able to stop myself. Jason looked younger than the others. I would have guessed twenty-five, maybe, with the others being around thirty. But then again, I hadn’t had much practice over the years. None of the Hunters ever revealed their age to me, and I hadn’t asked.
It hadn’t mattered.
“Ah-ah-ah.” He waggled a playful finger in my face. “If I tell you my age, you have to tell me yours.”
I could have sworn there was an instant of some calculating emotion behind his vigilant gaze, but it was gone so fast I could have imagined it. Revealing my age was of little concern to me. Knowing more about them, however, had somehow become paramount.
“I’m—” With a start I realized I didn’t remember my own age. A wave of sadness cascaded over me, drowning me in its heartache. How had my life gone so wrong?
You know how . . .
Something ugly inside me reared its head, accusing me with flashes of images of things best forgotten.
So as not to awaken suspicion—or maybe I just didn’t want him to look at me with pity when he realized how truly damaged I was—I blurted out the first number that seemed reasonably close, “Twenty-three!”
Jason leaned back, raising both eyebrows and looking me up and down. I didn’t know if he was reacting to my near-shout or if he thought the age seemed wrong, but it made me squirm with discomfort.
When he ended his examination, I let out a relieved breath.
“You’re so tiny, it’s hard to imagine . . .” His voice was low and distant.
Imagine what? I wanted to know, but I didn’t want him to ask any more questions about my age.
I was sent to the Hunters when I was six. It’s been eighteen years . . .
After doing the math I realized I was actually twenty-four.
A quarter of my life gone with nothing to show for it. At least my first few years in that place hadn’t been so bad. Besides the devastating loneliness and wondering if my mother would ever-
I shook my head, determined not to think of it.
“S-so?” It was his turn.
Jason peered down at me, a cryptic expression on his handsome face. Then he blinked once, and it was as if all his previous thoughts disappeared. “I am twenty-eight.”
“That’s all?” I wrinkled my brow. That would mean he was eight when he met Ruarc. Wasn’t eight considered being a child, still?
“You wound me, love.” He clutched at his chest. “Do I look so ancient to you, then? I would have you know, both Ash and Lucien are older than me, and Ruarc would be a valued item at a museum. If they didn’t mind his surly nature, that is,” he added as an afterthought.
That threw me. I would have guessed Ash was the oldest of them. And I very much doubted Ruarc was over thirty-five, if that.
“Then . . . then you have known Ruarc since you were a child? Doesn’t that make you childhood friends?” I didn’t want to fixate on this one thing, I just found it odd. Even more so when Jason looked momentarily startled.
“Oh, right. Well, I suppose it took us a while to become friends.” His wry smile broadened as he lifted his gaze to the night sky. “You could say Ruarc found me a little annoying at first. But I grew on him.”
“Like unwanted mold,” a gruff voice said from behind.
I spun around in my seat.
Ruarc hesitated in the doorway, the scar on his face illuminated by the porch light.
“Meaning you sometimes want mold to grow on you?” Jason ribbed, grinning like a lunatic.
With a dark glare, Ruarc turned to Jason, his massive arms crossed over his broad chest. “Watch it, boy,” he growled, eyes narrowing.
“See?” Jason gently poked my side with his elbow and nodded toward Ruarc. “Ancient and surly.”
Casting a disgusted look at Jason, Ruarc strode across the patio and leaned against the railing, facing me.
Forced to turn back around or end up sitting with my back to them, I eyed Ruarc while my stomach danced with nerves. Of all the men in this house, Ruarc made me feel the most unsettled.
There was just something about him, something I couldn’t put my finger on. My feelings for him ranged from wildly terrified to deeply sympathetic, with several different stops along the way. His capacity for violence and his volatile nature scared the crap out of me. But the other sides of him, the rage he displayed when a hint of my tormented past came up, the gruff way he’d apologized when he’d scared me, the mysterious betrayal in his past, his vicious scar . . . it made something inside me ache with a shared sort of pain.
Eyes locked on me, Ruarc grunted and jerked his chin.
Perplexed, I stayed silent, looking to Jason for guidance.
“Don’t look at me, love. We have yet to decipher Ruarc’s preferred method of communication. It consists of grunts, growls, and chin dips.”
With eyes that were rapidly narrowing, Ruarc bared his teeth in a chilling grimace. “Leave, pup.”
Jason held his hands up in a placating gesture of surrender and chuckled. “What if I promise to behave?” The wicked glint in his golden eyes betrayed his intent.
When Ruarc didn’t reply, Jason sobered. “Consider the circumstances,” he said to Ruarc, casting a meaningful glance my way.
Ruarc took his time scrutinizing me. My skin prickled in a not-entirely-unpleasant fashion where his silver gaze lingered. With a small frown, he inclined his head at Jason.
Glancing back and forth between them, I bit my lip and tried to figure them out. There was no true bite to Ruarc’s words, no unease in Jason’s eyes when the other man growled at him. They clearly cared about each other, in a strange, bickering type of way.
“So, my sweet,” Jason started, brows drawn together and one finger tapping his toned thigh. “What are your plans now?”
“My plans?”
“Yes, what are you going to do when you are off on your merry way?” Jason ignored Ruarc’s low grumble and focused solely on me.
Oh.
Sweat gathered at the back of my neck. Did they want me to leave? I wasn’t ready, didn’t have a clue how I’d find my uncle, much less make my way to Canada. The thought of being on my own again made my hands shake.
“I . . . I don’t know.” Despair was crawling up my throat, threatening to choke the very life from me. I’d never been on my own before—even at the compound when loneliness threatened to break me in a way the Hunters’ torture hadn’t managed, I at least had the crazed ravings of the other prisoners to keep me company. But here, out in the real world? I had no idea how to survive. How would I get money? I had no education, no experience. In fact, my lack of knowledge on all things in this world made me woefully unprepared for just about everything in life.
And did I want to spend the rest of my life on the run?
Not really, a small voice inside me answered. But how could I live a life free of the Hunters? How could I be free of my past and the monster living inside me, clawing every day to get out and ruin my life once again?
“Look what you did!” Ruarc barked, bodily removing Jason from his spot next to me and taking his place.
I was so shaken, so lost in my own thoughts about the future, that I wasn’t the slightest bit alarmed at the display of power. That was probably also why I didn’t react when one of Ruarc’s huge, calloused hands patted my back with startling tenderness.
How can someone so big be so gentle? The question popped into my head, a sidetrack to my rising panic at my upcoming eviction.
“Love, please take a big breath for me.” Jason dropped to his knees in front of me and clasped my trembling hands in his. “I didn’t mean to make you worry. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.”
“’Course she is welcome,” Ruarc snarled, glaring at Jason with an expression that clearly stated this was all the other man’s fault.
Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves and slow my racing heart, I peeked up at them. “B-but why? You don’t owe me anything. Why are you being so nice?”
Ruarc frowned down at me, the big hand at my back that had been rubbing slow, soothing circles stopped moving. “There is no honor in hurting females,” he said gruffly and looked away.
Jason rolled his eyes. “What Ruarc is trying to say,” he started, ignoring Ruarc’s annoyed grumble, “is that whoever hurt you was a coward. A slimy, unworthy piece of scum who should never have been allowed to walk the earth. Leaving you to fend for yourself would make us just as unworthy. Besides,” he added with a grin, “having you around will be fun. Please try bother Lucien as much as possible while you’re here.”
I choked on a watery chuckle, for once not burning up with embarrassment when I did something strange. Their generosity, their kindness touched me deeply and stole my voice.
Both guys cleared their throats awkwardly while I sniffed and avoided eye contact, trying to get my emotions under control. Even though they seemed a little uncomfortable at my emotional display, they comforted me in their own ways; Jason squeezed my hands, thumbs gently stroking my pale skin, and Ruarc stared straight ahead and continued his soft exploration of my back with his huge-as-a-lion-paw hand. Sometimes his mouth twitched, like he wanted to say something, but he remained silent.
When I had my emotions under control I looked up at them with a warm glow heating my chest. “Thank you.”
Later that night, while wind tickled the glass panes of the windows and the guys’ voices had long since quieted, I found myself at the bottom of the stairs. The warm glow that had carried me through the hours between dinner and the moment I had lain down to sleep had disappeared, leaving me cold and small and so very alone.
I wasn’t sure what I was doing or why I’d left the comfort of my borrowed bed. All I knew was the itch right beneath my skin, the violent thrashing of my stomach, and the pric
kle biting at my neck when I squeezed my eyes together and pretended I was safe.
What am I doing?
The sound of my bare feet sliding across the hardware floor whispered at the edges of my hearing. While the rest of the house slept, I crept across the living room and out into the hallway. There, I stopped. Stared at the door that led to the outside. If I wanted to leave, could I?
Metal shone, the door handle an unfinished smile that lured me closer. Not so I could escape my temporary shelter, but so I could make sure I hadn’t traded one cage for another.
I’d been locked away for so long . . .
They wouldn’t keep me against my will, I was almost sure. But something in me twisted with the first stirrings of panic.
Would the door be locked?
My eyes searched for a key, but it was just the door and me and that same half-finished metal smile.
“Just try it,” I whispered to my shaking hand. It twitched but didn’t turn the handle.
My pulse raced and my mouth went dry, and still I stared at the unmoving door while my grip grew damp and threatened to slide right off.
Tremors worked their way up to my wrist, past my elbow, until my shoulder got infected and my whole body began shaking.
What am I doing?
I’d been given a reprieve, a place to rest, to heal, to gather my strength. I should be grateful, not filled with this restless fear.
What am I doing?
The sky. I had to see the sky. Had to know I could run if I needed, that I could be free. Outside. Where there was air.
Air.
My throat closed. One minute I was breathing, the next I clawed at my neck with my free hand, feeling for the rope that had to be cutting off my air—why else would I be choking?—but I felt only skin.
I stumbled against the barricade blocking my escape, still clutching that damned handle.
Bright, red spots dotted my vision.
My shoulder pushed against an unyielding surface, then my back. My knees buckled. I slid down to the floor, still not breathing.