by Leah Holt
Taking one last look around and seeing nothing, I stalked back in the direction of my cabin. This poor girl had been left there to die, either from the bitter cold that sweeps through at night or by whatever some asshole had done to her.
There was bruising on her face and arms, her clothes were filthy and caked in dirt. The skin I could feel against my arms was ice cold and already shading in a faint blue hue.
I'm going to help her.
I'm going to fix her.
I'm going to save her.
Turning around and running would have been the easy way out, I could forget what I had found, I could pretend that it never happened. But that would mean her soul would be lost forever, it would haunt my dreams and my home for eternity.
It would allow the rat bastard who was responsible to walk free, to breathe another day, to eat another meal, all while this poor girl was left to disappear as if she never existed.
That single thought was enough, I wasn't going to let whoever did this get away with it.
“I promise you, I'll fix this. I'll fix it and make things right.” Whispering the words into her ear, I carried her as quickly as I could back to my house.
Kicking the door open, I carried her into the bedroom and placed her on the bed. Her body was still shaking uncontrollably as a cold sweat started to trickle down over her temples. Lifting my hand to her forehead, her skin felt red hot.
Fuck, she's burning up.
I wasn't sure what was happening to her or what was causing her body to react the way it was. Wrapping the blanket tightly around her frame, I ran into the bathroom and grabbed a cool cloth.
Tucked away out here, I only had so much to work with. Aspirin would help her fever, but I didn't have a way to get her to swallow it. The hospital was what she needed, but there was no way I was driving her into town.
She didn't have a name, I didn't know what happened. Who would believe I wasn't at fault?
No one.
They would call the cops and they would have way too many questions that I couldn't give any answers to.
And if she died, if this girl never woke up. . .
Who would they blame?
Me.
She won't die.
I won't have another death by my hands.
Sitting on the bed beside her, I placed the cloth across her forehead and tucked the blanket under her sides. Her teeth were chattering violently as the shaking worsened and took over her muscles.
I did everything I could to help her, tapping into all the field training I had when I was in the army. I kept her covered, I kept putting ice cold water on her face to try and break the fever. I sat by her side all night, until the sun came up and she stopped shivering.
For the next couple days all I did was watch her sleep. I wanted to be there if she needed anything, I wanted to be right there in case she woke up and freaked out.
She seemed restless even in her dreams. The girl would mumble inaudible words, jerk her arms and crinkle her body up into this small package like her insides were shriveling up and the pain was just too much. The color of her skin teetered between pale and ash gray as purple spots and red welts puffed up staining the surface.
Brushing the hair from her face, I gently touched the cut on her lip, leading my hand down her jaw and stroking her chin. She had this innocence about her as she slept. There was no sign she recognized I was there, she was unaware of my hands and undisturbed by my presence.
She was a girl who took refuge in my bed, who needed me even though she was blind to the fact I was right beside her. I didn't have to know her to see that she had suffered, I didn't need her to tell me how badly she was hurt.
Something happened to me the night I brought her home. Something I couldn't explain and wasn't ready to understand.
But that something. . .
That something made her mine.
Chapter Three
Pax
She looked so weak, so tender and scared as she stood in place, full of fear and confusion. Her eyes shifted around in quick jerks, her fingers nervously braided together, only to untie and braid again.
I couldn't imagine what the hell was going through her head, but I didn't want her to bolt and take off running. She had lost her friend, she had no clue what the hell was going on.
But I wasn't about to chase her down through the woods. If she ran, I would have no option but to just let her go. Tracking her down in the dark, fighting against the cold air and hungry animals would do nothing but drag me back ten steps from where I was.
Don't do it, girl, don't run.
It'll be the biggest mistake of your life.
“Come on, sit. I promise, I'll help you figure this out. I need you to drink something at least, you're definitely dehydrated if nothing else.” Holding out the glass, I nudged it towards her. “Take it.”
Folding her arms over her chest, I watched her cringe as she tried to hug herself. “How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you're not the reason I'm like this?”
Sighing, I scratched my fingers through my beard. “Sweetheart, if I was the one responsible for the way you look right now, trust me, the last thing I would be doing is offering you shit to help.” Stepping towards her, I reached for her hand.
The young girl flinched, but she didn't resist my touch, she just watched me. Her eyes burned into mine, filling with distrust and fear.
Holding her fingers gently, I curled them around the glass and stepped back. “Drink.”
Her tongue dragged across her cracked bottom lip, tempted by the sweet liquid it craved. “Did you put something in it?”
“No.” Holding out my hand, I flipped my fingers. “Here, give it, I'll drink some myself if you don't believe me.”
Studying the water, she swirled the glass and watched the small tornado that formed inside. Cocking her head, her lips thinned as her brows dipped in hard. “Okay, here.”
Snatching the glass from her hand, I took a huge gulp, practically emptying the cup in one swallow. Swiping my wrist across my mouth, I wiped away the droplets that perched on the hair above my lip. “See, it's clean. I'll get you some more and you can watch me if you want to, if that will make you feel better.”
The girl eyed me, her lips turning down as she frowned. “It would make me feel better,” she snapped, squeezing her ribs in between her arms.
I could tell she was trying so hard to be strong, to hold in the tears she wanted to shed and the screams she wanted to lash at me. I wasn't going to get pissed at her for it if she let it all out, but I wasn't the one she should be questioning.
She had been through something, something that might have killed anyone else. But whatever had tried to consume her had lost; this vixen to the eyes had won.
Luck was on her side because I had found her. If it had been an hour earlier or a couple of hours later, I might not have seen the smoke and she might have taken her last breath on the cold, hard ground.
And honestly, I was getting to the point where I wasn't even sure she was going to wake up at all. I prepared for that, I made sure I was ready if she exhaled one last breath and let the forever sleep gobble her up.
Only that's not what happened.
Now I had this wrecked soul standing in my living room, glaring at me like I was the devil himself. I wanted to scoop her in my arms and brush my palm down her hair, smoothing it out against her scalp and allowing her to cry into my chest.
Then there was the other side, the part of me that wanted to drive her into town and drop her off, just to be rid of whatever trouble her presence could bring.
The quiet world I had built for myself was screaming at me to bring back the silence and return her to the chaos outside my wall of trees.
I wished I could listen, I wished I could shut down the small part of me that was still somewhat human and send her packing. But I couldn't. She was in need and I wouldn't let her go unless I knew she would be safe.
It wasn't weakness, it wasn't a soft heart that
beat inside my chest; it was life, it was breathing and living that forced me to pick her up and carry her to safety.
It was something about her.
Her feet shuffled across the wood floor, barely lifting an inch off the ground. She looked so uncomfortable and miserable. The girl didn't walk with grace, she hobbled; her face wasn't calm and assertive, instead she grimaced with every movement she made.
I could only imagine what was done to her. I hated the thought, it made me sick to my stomach the pictures that would pop into my head.
And it enraged me, turning my insides into a bubbling inferno. No one deserved to be left that way, especially a fallen angel.
“After you see that I'm not trying to drug you, will you sit down and eat? You really need to rest, your body isn't well enough to be up and around.”
“I'll think about it.” Swallowing hard, she made every attempt to hide the pain that coursed through her body.
Tough little thing.
“Fair enough.” Turing on the tap, I held the cup under the fresh flowing water and watched it fill. “You got a name?”
Shrugging her shoulder, she refused to take her eyes off my hands and the glass. “Does it matter?”
“Yes, it matters a lot.” Flipping the handle off, I passed her the fresh water. “I'm Pax.”
Clutching the drink, she smiled as the water hit her lips and quenched her dry mouth. Smacking her lips together, she moaned from the instant gratification of cold water as she mumbled, “Pax?”
“Yes, Pax. Now it's your turn, name?” Holding up a finger before she could say a word, I barked, “And don't try to cop out and tell me a fake name. Trust me, I'll know if you're lying.”
Shaking the cup over her mouth to get what was left on the bottom, she eyed me. “It's Vera.”
“Okay. . .” Leaning against the sink, I crossed my arms over my chest. “So, how did you end up in my woods, Vera?”
“Honestly—I have no fucking clue. I can't remember anything.” Shaking her head side to side, she held out the empty cup and eyed the faucet. “Can I have another glass?”
Taking it slowly so I didn't startle her, I filled it again and passed it back. Vera downed the second cup even quicker than the first. I stood there studying her, watching her facial features and movements as she gulped the water.
She really was a pretty little thing. Much younger than I was, maybe in her early twenties, but a woman nonetheless.
Her breasts were full, pillowed and peeking out from the v-neck dip in her dirt-stained shirt. Her legs were long and lean, forcing my eyes to the diamond heat between her thighs.
It was wrong, so so wrong for me to feel this primal around a girl who had just gone through what she had. But I couldn't help it.
My brain was shutting down as the animal need built up inside me, turning me from human to beast. I had spent so much time cooped up in this cabin and it had been years since I was that close to a woman.
It was like I could smell her sweet musk as I stood there and it fed my growing desire to bend her over the couch and take her like the wild animal I was.
Get a grip!
She's too young, she probably wouldn't even bat an eye at you if things were different.
Shifting against the counter top, I dragged my hand over my head and tried to not watch her lips as she set them against the rim of the glass. But I couldn't stop the image of her curling those big full lips around my cock.
Fuck! Stop it!
You're too old for her and she's too young for you.
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not elderly by any means. But I was closer to forty now than I was to twenty, we were years apart. Two generations that were spawned from completely opposite life experiences.
And yet, I was so intrigued by this girl that the taboo forces of nature pushing my body to the limit were barely controllable.
I spent four days watching her sleep, watching her tits rise and fall to make sure she was breathing, watching her lips as they formed airless letters, just watching this sleeping beauty.
Now she was awake and I could hear the sound of her voice, I could see her large curious eyes; I could see her.
My cock twitched as my chest became tight and heavy. The air seemed to thicken as I tried to breathe in, pricking my lungs and forcing me to cough.
“What can you tell me?” she asked, sucking the last droplets from the bottom of the glass. “How did I end up here?”
Clearing my throat, I tucked my hands deeper into my ribs, crossing one leg over the other. “I know what I found, and that was you all curled up, beaten and battered and left for dead. So I brought you back here. But that's it, I didn't see anything else.”
Resting the glass on the counter, her arm swiped mine, sending a static charge through my nerves and bristling my skin.
The simple touch, that accidental brush of skin to skin made me shiver. And I liked it, I liked it way too much. It was erotic and tempting, triggering my heart to leap inside my chest.
“How long have I been here?”
Taking a step away from her, I clutched the edge of counter top firmly in my fingers. “Four days.”
I watched the color drain from her face as her hands reached up and pulled her hair tight against her scalp. “Four days. . . Four fucking days?” Dropping her head into her chest, she closed her eyes. “Did you call the police or anything?”
“No.”
“And why not!?” Her neck snapped back, one hand shooting to her hip as it kicked out to the side. “You just left me in that room, you—”
Growling under my breath, I cut her off. “Stop right there, I didn't just leave you in there. I took care of you, I kept you alive. Don't you dare think I just dropped you in there and walked away.”
Vera's jaw hung open as her hands curled deeper into her hips. “Why didn't you call the police?”
“Look around, do you see a phone?”
“That's your excuse? That's your damn reason for not getting me any help?” Leaning forward, her shirt cradled her tits as they bounced. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Look—” Holding up my hand, I squared my shoulders. “I don't know who put you in my woods, I don't know who the fuck you are. The last thing I want is a bunch of cops nosing around my place and bringing any shit here.” Stepping in with a quick lunge, my body towered over her as I spoke through gritted teeth. “I don't need whatever bullshit you got involved with finding its way to me.”
Vera sucked in a breath, parting her lips as she eyed me. I wasn't trying to frighten her, that was the last thing I wanted to do. But I was not willing to risk losing what I built for someone I knew nothing about, she needed to know that.
I helped her, can't she see that?
I could have left her right where I found her, but I didn't. Wasn't that enough to show her I had some form of feelings, of concern?
Stepping back, I cupped my chin and let out a sigh. “I'm sorry, it's just. . .” Stroking my jaw, my lips perched high. “I have no clue what you got yourself into, I just don't want it here. I have to look out for myself too.”
Softening her eyes, Vera's brows arched. “Can you tell me where the hell I am at least?” Stalking to the window in my living room, she pressed her face against the glass. “Where the fuck am I?”
I wanted to hug her, wrap her in my arms and tell her not to worry, that I planned on taking care of her, that I had promised her when I found her that I would fix this.
Only I didn't know what 'this' was and right then, I could see she didn't either.
“You're in Whitinsville, does that sound familiar?”
“No.” Vera's hands slipped down to her sides, leaving long streaks on the clear glass. Her body loosened and deflated, rolling forward. “The only thing I remember is driving with my friend Sara, but I don't remember where—or why—or if—we were meeting anyone.”
“Well, you know who you are, so that's a good thing. We can figure the rest out.” Walking up behind her, I placed
my hands on her shoulders. “But first you need to eat, you need to rest, you can't do anything before that.”
I felt her muscles tighten as my fingers curled over her collarbone and her breathing stopped. Through the reflection in the black glass, Vera's eyes lifted to mine. There was so much life in her gaze, so much sparkle in her eyes even if she wasn't trying to show it.
Hovering over the shell of her ear, I whispered. “I promise you, I'm not going to hurt you. All I want to do is help.”
Chapter Four
Vera
Can I trust him?
I want to trust him.
Sipping the broth off the spoon, Pax sat in the chair across from me, watching me, strumming his thumb against his jaw as his eyes licked my body.
There was something about his eyes that made it hard for me to look directly at him. I wasn't used to having a man—a real man—look at me the way he was. His eyes would linger on my face, every so often drifting to my legs and chest.
It warmed me on the inside, making my stomach flip and twist as the hot soup slipped down the back of my throat. I could feel all my nerves, each and every one, as they sparked to life, sending a torrent of butterflies through my belly.
Maybe I was over-thinking that look, that wonder that sat in the back of his stare.
Maybe he just wants to know who you are.
You're a stranger in his world, why wouldn't he be curious?
I should have had the same curiosity that he seemed to have. I didn't know him, I didn't know if he was a serial killer or some crazed loner who had spent way too much time alone, and had flipped a switch.
If anything I should fear him, not long for the look in his eyes and tremble from the buzzing air between us.
He could let any wariness he had about me go, I wasn't hiding some dark secret, I wasn't pretending that I could barely remember anything from before I woke up.
The truth was, I was just a regular girl before all this. I was in college, I lived at home with my mom and had a dog named Bruto. I was a twenty-one year old girl with the same problems and issues as any other girl my age.
My younger brother was a royal pain in my ass, school consumed most of my time, work sucked, and my life felt like it was set on repeat. Everyday I got up and did the same things, there was nothing about me that was out of the ordinary or unusual.