Beautiful Vengeance

by Kaylea Cross

  It wouldn’t be like that with Marcus. It would be totally different, because his attraction to her made her want to engage rather than shut down. But what was his fantasy? She could do it all: demure and submissive, sex kitten, bold and confident, dominatrix, innocent, and everything in between. What did he prefer?

  Sighing, she cuddled closer, allowing her mind to drift even as her body remained vividly awake, an almost humming sensation traveling over her skin.

  One big hand began gently stroking her hair. She squeezed her eyes shut, every lonely part of her soaking up the affection like a parched sponge. She wanted to turn her head and kiss him. Lose herself in the comfort and pleasure he might offer, but she sensed he wasn’t ready for it yet, and right at this moment she was too raw and fragile inside anyway.

  She thought he brushed a kiss to the crown of her head, then he released her and leaned back to look down into her face. “Do you need anything?”

  You.

  She wrestled the word back before it could come out. “Just a little rest, maybe.” With him. God, how amazing would it feel to have him wrapped around her as she drifted off?

  He nodded once. “I’ll take you back inside.”

  She was about to tell him she didn’t need an escort, but shut her mouth because she wanted to spend as much time with him as possible, even the minute it would take them to get into the house.

  Marcus bent, picked up his cane, then gave her a gentle smile that warmed her insides before setting his free hand at the small of her back. They walked side by side while Karas limped ahead of them, the heat of his palm sinking through her sweater.

  His touch was protective rather than proprietary. Silently telling her he had her back. And that meant more than anything he could possibly have said.

  “Poor Karas,” she said, watching the dog hobble up the gravel path.

  “She’ll be all right.” He shot her a sideways glance. “She’s strong, like you. And some rest will do both of you good.”

  Inside the house she expected him to drop his hand and leave. Instead he paused inside the back door and looked down at her. “Fancy a nap on the couch by the fire while I get some work done?”

  She smiled, her heart fluttering. He wanted more time with her too, or maybe he sensed she’d feel safer with him there to keep watch. “I’d like that.”

  He nodded once. “Go on then, get settled. I’ll make you a hot brew.”

  Too tired to protest, she made her way to the study. Karas went with her, flopping down on her bed in front of the fire with a loud groan and immediately shut her eyes, as if the short walk to the stable and back had exhausted her.

  Kiyomi sat on the tufted leather sofa and opened her journal. She sometimes jotted down things after a session, but right now she was too drained.

  Marcus came in a few minutes later with a mug. “It’s green tea and honey,” he said, handing it to her.

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded and knelt beside the dog to stroke her head a few times before stacking kindling and logs in the grate. “This’ll keep you both warm as toast,” he said, striking a long match and lighting the kindling.

  Warm, golden-orange light flickered over her, the heat already spilling out into the room. “Here,” he told her, laying one of the throw pillows on the end of the sofa flat. “Stretch out.”

  Feeling a little silly but also like a pampered princess, Kiyomi laid down and curled up on her side, her notebook beside her and pen still in her hand. Maybe she’d rest for a bit and then do some writing in here where it was quiet.

  Marcus took a woven tartan blanket from the wide ottoman that served as a coffee table, shook it out and spread it over her. Her heart squeezed when he gently tucked it around her, then straightened, his deep brown gaze sweeping her face as he passed a gentle hand over her hair.

  “Sleep for a while,” he murmured, that low, accented voice wrapping around her.

  The emotional purge earlier had exhausted her. Being tucked all cozy and warm beneath the blanket that smelled of Marcus while he watched over her from his desk allowed her mind to relax completely. She was safe, cared about, and the sound of the fire crackling in the hearth soon had her eyes drifting shut.

  One last thought drifted through her mind before she faded into sleep, bringing a spurt of anxiety. Marcus was here, watching her.

  She prayed her subconscious would keep her nightmares at bay.

  Chapter Seven

  Marcus glanced up from his computer screen a while later when Kiyomi’s breathing suddenly turned choppy. The fire was burning low in the grate. He couldn’t see her from his vantage point behind his desk, but he could see the edge of the pillow move as she shifted.

  She made a distressed sound and moved restlessly, still asleep. On her bed next to the fire, Karas lifted her head, her gaze trained on Kiyomi.

  Marcus reached for his cane and quietly pushed to his feet, then waited. He could see her now, lying on her side. Her brows were drawn together in a deep frown and she seemed agitated. His heart went out to her. Nightmares and night terrors were horrifically raw and real for anyone experiencing them.

  For someone who had undergone capture and torture like they had, it was hell.

  When she made another low sound and her legs twitched as if she was kicking someone in her dream, he couldn’t stand by and watch her suffer a moment more. He quickly rounded his desk and went down on one knee in front of the sofa. Her notebook lay on the floor. She still had the pen clutched in her hand.

  He set his cane down and reached a hand toward her shoulder. “Kiyomi.”

  Her eyes flew open, blind with panic and terror. Her fist drove upward, the end of the pen aimed at his face. Marcus reared his head back and caught her wrist in his hand just in time, stopping it inches from his eye.

  Realizing what she’d done, Kiyomi heaved upright with a wrenching gasp and tore her hand free, dropping the pen as she shrank back into the corner of the sofa. “Sorry,” she whispered hoarsely, her face pale. “Sorry.”

  “It’s all right.”

  She shook her head and scooted farther away from him, dragging a trembling hand through her hair.

  He couldn’t bear to watch her berate herself for something she had no control over. “It’s all right,” he repeated in a low voice. “No harm done. And I know what that kind of nightmare is like.”

  She dragged a hand over her pale face and exhaled a shaky breath, still avoiding his gaze. “Yeah, I bet you do.”

  They had that in common, something none of the others could relate to. “Here.” He offered her the mug of unfinished tea. “It’s cold now, but the honey will help.”

  Kiyomi accepted it and took a sip, still not looking at him. “Thank you.”

  He didn’t answer, trying to think of something to say to ease her embarrassment. To his surprise she set the mug down, leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  Recovering fast, he drew her close, pushing up onto the sofa to draw her into his lap. Kiyomi nestled in closer, and the way she pressed her face into the side of his neck squeezed his heart like a fist. This woman was as strong as they came. For her to reach for him like this and admit she wanted him to hold her told him just how shaken she was, and how much she trusted him.

  “You’re safe,” he murmured against her hair. It smelled like strawberries and she felt like heaven, soft and warm in his arms. “You’re safe now.”

  She inhaled deeply and let the breath out slowly, her arms tight around his neck.

  Marcus held her like that for a few minutes. Slowly her grip on him relaxed, but she didn’t let go. Didn’t try to pull away, still wanting to be close. Unable to help himself, he nuzzled her hair with his cheek, eased one hand up and down her back in a soothing motion.

  She sighed and seemed to melt into his hold. “I keep dreaming the same thing over and over,” she whispered finally.

  His hand paused on her back. “About what?” he asked, and resumed the motion.

>   She was silent a long moment. “Rahman.”

  He made a low sound that told her he was listening, but didn’t say anything, waiting for her to decide whether she wanted to say more.

  “I’m chained to the floor in my cell,” she continued and Marcus’s whole body went taut, outrage and protectiveness roaring through him. “He’s got the whip in his hand. And I can’t move. I know what’s coming, but I can’t get away no matter what I do.”

  His own ghosts stirred, sending a ripple of cold over his skin.

  Cold. Hungry. Tired. Pain.

  Hands and feet tied to the chair they’d shoved him into the day before.

  The man in the mask standing in front of him with the metal pipe in his hands. Waiting to slam it into Marcus’s pulverized thigh again.

  He banished the horrific memory, focused on the scent and feel of Kiyomi instead. “Helplessness.” He knew it all too well.

  Kiyomi lifted her head, their faces inches apart as she stared into his eyes. Hers were like mirrors, a deep, liquid brown so dark he could see his own reflection in them. “Did the men who hurt you die?”

  “Eventually, yes.” Unfortunately he hadn’t been given the satisfaction of killing them himself. He curved his palm around the back of her head, gently ran it down the cool, silky fall of her straight hair to where it stopped between her shoulder blades.

  “One day I’m going to kill Rahman for what he did to me.”

  The conviction and steely edge to her words sent a streak of foreboding through him. He believed her. Without a doubt, she would find a way to make it happen. Though it likely wouldn’t make her feel much better.

  She searched his eyes a moment. “Does that change the way you see me?”

  “No.” He understood her need to kill the man who had terrorized her, left her scarred inside and out. But if she thought taking Rahman’s life would make everything okay, she was in for a huge disappointment.

  Lifting a hand, she grazed her fingertips over the beard on the right side of his jaw. Marcus stilled as sensation sparked across his nerve endings, a surge of heat rushing through him. With superhuman effort he kept his hands on her back, instead of plunging them into her hair to bring his mouth down on hers.

  He stayed perfectly still while his heart tried to pound out of his chest, the light brush of her fingers trailing over his chin to the other, scarred side of his face, and finally to the corner of his mouth.

  His fingers flexed against her back as need slammed into him. He’d never wanted to kiss a woman this badly, but he wanted to mean something more than comfort to her, and he was a selfish bastard for wanting her when she’d been through so much.

  She drew the tip of her index finger across his lower lip, her expression absorbed as she studied it. He stared at her mouth, just inches away, his muscles rigid with the need to kiss her, taste her.

  Catching her wrist, he held her gently and pressed a slow, tender kiss to the pad of her finger. He glanced up in time to see her pupils dilate, those gorgeous lips part as she leaned forward a fraction.

  It was like trying to fight gravity. He was falling toward her and there was no stopping it, no matter if he shouldn’t touch her, no matter that he wasn’t worthy.

  Biting back a groan, he surrendered to the inexorable pull between them and angled his head to cover her mouth with his.

  Kiyomi slid her hands into his hair and returned the kiss. He held her still, forcing her to take it slow as he learned the shape and feel of her lips. Soft, pliant, he sank into them, exploring first the top and then the bottom as he caressed and nibbled. It was tender. Reverent.

  He wanted to give, not take. Give her as much or as little of him as she wanted. She’d been forced to do things that would have broken most people. He wanted her to feel safe with him, to know that he held complete control over himself and wouldn’t rush her.

  Her tiny moan went straight to his groin, making him rock hard in his jeans beneath the weight of her backside.

  Kiyomi’s fingers dug harder into his scalp, her mouth opening in invitation beneath his. Needing more, he cradled her face in his hands and touched his tongue to her lower lip before gently easing it along the inner seam.

  She made a soft sound and touched her tongue to his, the motion so erotic it made the blood pound in his ears. He caressed her softly, the restraint intensifying the heat pulsing through him. Kiyomi wiggled closer, her rear shifting against his erect cock and her breasts flattening to his chest.

  Marcus couldn’t hold back the rough groan at the back of his throat. She felt so bloody perfect, better than anything he’d imagined. He wanted to touch and taste her all over, strip off everything she wore so he could drown her in the pleasure she deserved, the best antidote he could think of to erase the pain and terror she’d suffered.

  Something cold and wet poked into the side of his face.

  Startled, Marcus drew back to find Karas’s face inches from their own. She stared into his eyes, ears perked, tail wagging in a hesitant swish.

  Kiyomi laughed as she slid off his lap. “Is she jealous?”

  Marcus scowled at his dog and gently swept her aside with one arm. “Away wi’ ye, green-eyed monster.”

  Instead of obeying, Karas plopped her back end down on the rug and stared at him with accusing eyes.

  Kiyomi laughed again, the bright sound making him smile. “I see I’ve got a rival.”

  “No.” No one could ever rival Kiyomi. He ruffled the top of Karas’s head and pointed at her bed by the fire. “Bed. Now.”

  Karas almost glared back at him, then sulkily turned and limped over to her bed, flopping down with a theatrical sigh and gazing up at him with wounded eyes.

  “She should be on stage,” Kiyomi said.

  Marcus grinned. “Aye. Drama queen.” Damn, he loved her though. Karas was as loyal as they came, and she’d got him through some dark times with her unconditional acceptance and love.

  He faced Kiyomi, sorry she’d moved away from him. “Sorry about that,” he muttered.

  “It’s okay.” Her lips curved, a soft look in her eyes. “Thank you.”

  He frowned. “For what?”

  “My first real kiss.” She rose before he could say anything, notebook in hand, and walked out of the room.

  Marcus stared after her, feeling like she’d just knocked the breath out of him. It took every bit of willpower he possessed not to go after her, drag her back inside and press her up against the door so he could kiss her again, this time with full body contact.

  He expelled a hard breath. As much as he wanted her, it was probably never going to happen. His job was to protect her, not get her into his bed.

  There were faceless, lethal enemies out there wanting to see her and the others dead. Marcus was prepared to do whatever was necessary to keep Kiyomi safe.

  Even if it meant letting her go.

  ****

  The whir of saws and screwdrivers echoed in the vast space of the warehouse as Janelle walked through the building site. Everything was finally coming together, after dumping more funds into the project and motivating the project manager to get it moving. In another few weeks, this place would be ready.

  Shortly after that, the first test subjects would arrive. And if everything went according to plan, the woman who had inspired this entire project would be back where she belonged at last.

  “Janelle. I didn’t realize you were coming in.”

  She put on a smile for the project manager as he approached. “I like to keep on top of things.”

  His eyes gleamed with unmistakable interest, hoping for the repeat performance he wasn’t going to get. Even though she was in her late-fifties, she still had it, and looked far younger than her age. “Yes, you do.”

  Fucking him hadn’t been a complete chore, but it had done the job in motivating him to get things with the facility back on schedule. And he was so clueless about what was going on here, she didn’t even have to kill him when this was done. “Everything’s
going smoothly, I trust?”

  “Perfect.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.” Her cell rang. The caller was in the UK, where she’d had a team combing through newspapers and other data, trying to locate any of the missing Valkyries. “Excuse me.” Moving a discreet distance away so the PM couldn’t overhear, she answered.

  “I think we might have found something,” the female voice said. One of her operatives.

  “Oh?” Up on the second floor they were installing the sound-proofing material inside the test rooms. None of the crew had any idea what they were for. Everyone thought this was going to be a medical research lab, looking for cures for cancer, MS and ALS.

  That wasn’t even close to the truth, but it suited her purpose.

  “We’ve been following up dozens of new leads. None of them have panned out yet, but this one caught our interest. A story out of a town here in the Cotswolds.”

  Janelle’s attention sharpened. Every potential lead they’d followed had resulted in a dead end. “I’m listening.”

  “I’ve sent you the link, but basically three teenagers were caught doing stupid shit on Bonfire Night. That’s—”

  “I know what it is. And?”

  “It involves a disabled veteran. There are no names mentioned, but the description of the event was interesting. The boys claim someone jumped out of a tree and attacked them, using flashbangs to stun them, then took them all down singlehandedly, stripped them and left them tied to a tree for an hour or two. One of them specifically used the word ‘ninja.’ Other reports from locals say it couldn’t be the veteran, and two of the boys said the person who attacked them was slightly built.”

  “So it could have been a woman.” Perhaps even a Valkyrie.

  “Yes.”

  Janelle smiled. Men always underestimated them. Teenage boys would be no different. “Anything else?”

  “A police report was filed by a guy named Marcus Laidlaw, a disabled vet. I checked a map of the area and there’s a large property called Laidlaw Hall. Matches the address listed. Locals say he’s sort of a hermit, keeps to himself mostly, but there’ve been cars coming and going from there recently. He’s got no family, no close friends that anyone knows of.”