“Ava, wait. I’m—”
His words are cut off when I enter my room and slam the door, locking it behind me. I crumble against it, trying hard to keep my voice down, keep my sobs quiet. I slide to the bottom and hug myself tight, thinking of all the ways tonight has failed. Then there’s the future, and all it holds. The despair stabs me like a knife, over and over. I curl myself up tighter, hoping I can ball myself up so small, I’ll just disappear.
A soft knock sounds. “Ava?”
I don’t answer, just squeeze my eyes shut, trying to drown him out.
“Ava, please—”
I hear the faint sound of the latch being tried, then he sighs. There’s a grating slide of something against the door. When he speaks again, he sounds like he’s down on the ground, at my level. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I was trying to scare you.”
I have nothing to say. No words to offer.
A silence settles in, broken only by my muffled weeping.
How long we sit there, I’m not sure. It’s a strange sort of intimacy, with him on the other side of the door, separated by only a couple inches of wood, and yet it feels like he’s still so far away.
Eventually, I hear his voice. “I wasn’t prepared for you, Ava.”
My throat tightens and I find myself struggling to reconcile this man with the beast in that room. I turn around and lay my hand flat against the door, as though I can touch him from here. My tears have settled, my breath has quieted, but my head is still sorting through it all.
I swallow and ask the question burning my tongue. “Were you telling the truth?”
It’s quiet on the other side of the door, and I think perhaps he isn’t going to answer, but then…“Yes.”
His words echo in my mind.
I’ll push you to your limits.
You’ll beg me to stop.
Hopefully even cry.
“Why?” I ask.
“That’s just the way I’m made, Ava. The way life shaped me.”
I press forward, not willing or able to give up on him. “And the women you’re with—they like it?”
“The type of woman I choose to be with, yes, they like it.”
“What type is that?”
A sigh drifts through the door. “The type that can survive me.”
I think of Candace then. So beautiful, but so cruel, and so cold.
There’s a shift against the door and I can tell when he speaks again, that he’s standing now. “I won’t keep you any longer. I just wanted to say I’m sorry and…to thank you. You brought…” He pauses for a long moment. “You brought light to an otherwise dark place. Thank you, Ava.”
My body warms, pumping with renewed blood. There are no more doubts. No more fears. I’m up and out the door.
“Gavin, wait.”
He pauses in the darkened hallway, a few steps from his bedroom. His head hangs low, his body stands still.
I walk towards him, not stopping until I’m so close my nipples graze his skin.
He shakes his head and closes his eyes. “You test my control, Ava.”
I wonder if he’ll send me away again. But then…“One night,” he whispers, looking at me now. “One night only. Understand?”
A light suddenly appears at the end of what has been a very long, dark tunnel.
I nod.
He reaches out and slides a fingertip across my cheek. I close my eyes, cherishing his touch. It’s so delicate, so thoughtful, but I know it won’t last. Not after all he’s just revealed. His hand falls away and I open my eyes to see him extend his arm towards the bedroom, a darkness brewing in his gaze. “After you.”
I walk into the moonlit room and hear the click of the door behind me. A heartbeat later his presence is at my back. He stands there, hovering, the only contact the heat that simmers off his body onto mine. Then I feel it—a fingertip, or perhaps the back of his finger, moving slowly up and down my spine.
“Do you know what a safe word is?” he asks quietly.
I swallow and nod. I’ve read the books.
“I need you to think of one,” he says. “Something you’ll remember. ‘No’ and ‘stop’ won’t save you, but your safe word will. That will be my promise to you, Ava. But I need a promise from you, too. I need you to promise me you’ll use it, when you get to that point. Can you do that for me?”
I nod, and adrenaline begins to float through my blood. I should be scared, but I’m not. In fact, I’m determined to show him I’m not as delicate as he thinks. An idea comes to mind, along with a word.
“Oscar,” I whisper.
“Oscar?”
I turn to face him and nod. “If you want an Oscar, you’re going to have to earn it.”
“Ava,” he says, in a tone so reverent my heart wants to burst through my chest.
I smile. “But you’ll have to catch me first.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
I giggle as I sweep past him and out the door into the hallway. By the time I’m at the bottom of the stairs, I hear him coming for me. I flee across the living room and with trembling fingers open the door and lunge into the backyard, where we played and frolicked only a short while ago. Now we’re playing another game. A dangerous game.
I risk a look back and see the surprise on his face that I ventured outside. Then I see him smile, and it’s chilling.
I turn and sprint to the left, the light of the full moon embracing me once again. With quick steps, I run past the pool and down the path to the dark forest that beckoned to me earlier.
I enter the black wall of trees, my bare feet moving from lush grass to a painful terrain of leaves and rocks and whatever else rests along the woodland floor. My heart races as tree limbs and bushes tear at my naked skin, but it doesn’t stop me, because I’m in my element now, with the sky above me, and the earth beneath me.
This is my home.
He’s close now. So close, I can hear his quick breaths, hear the twigs breaking beneath his feet as he hunts me down. The moonlight pulses overhead, peeking here and there though the canopy of trees. Quick, quick, quick, my legs carry me but I know my freedom’s coming to an end. Up ahead, I see a tall chain link fence where the earth levels out, so I cut to my right, only to find myself being hurled to the ground.
He’s on me in an instant. His weight, his hands, his entire body. I pant and claw at his face, nothing more than a shadow amid the darkness.
Strong hands grab my wrists and pin them above my head. I writhe and squirm, my back protesting against the earth, while he growls and lunges for my neck, biting and mauling. A past trauma tries to overtake me, tries to turn my fear into terror, but I force it back.
He’s between my legs now, wedging me open. I close my eyes and search for a moment of peace amid the chaos. This is it. This is what I’ve been waiting for. The moment’s finally here. And somehow, some way, I always knew it would happen like this.
Teeth tug at my nipples and I arch beneath him, trying to let the hunger consume me as it consumes him. I open my eyes when he lodges my wrists into one hand, and with the other, pulls something from the waistband of his underwear. He tears it with his teeth. A condom. I didn’t think of that, maybe because I have an implant. Still, it was reckless of me. Warmth curls up within, grateful he’s looking out for us both, even while playing this savage game.
Or is it a game?
I breathe heavily beneath him, seeking him out. Through the darkness, I find him in a sliver of moonbeam, panting above me. His hair is mussed and falling over his forehead. A line of blood trickles down the side of his face from a scratch along his cheek. Did I give him that? I look at another scratch along his chest, then further down the muscled body that crouches over me. Then I gasp, because he’s exposed to me now, and ready, and there’s no way that can fit inside me. A whimper leaves my mouth and I begin to struggle in earnest.
“Wait!” I plead.
His eyes turn feral, and he takes my wrists back in both hands and lunges inside me. That’s when
I realize—I said the wrong word.
A scream erupts from my lungs but lodges in my throat as he groans, withdraws, and thrusts into me again, deeper. The pain explodes, followed by the tears. I feel so full, like I’ll tear at the seams. Again he pulls out, only to force his way back in. I’m struggling. Struggling to take him, struggling to survive. I fight against him, but it only seems to feed the beast on top of me. The rough stubble of his jaw grates across my cheek as his head falls to my neck. He takes me then, pumping over me like some wild animal, his muscles straining, his hips jerking, the sound of his body mating with mine echoing throughout the silent forest.
It’s too much. I thought I could handle him, thought I could play his game, thought the memories of the past were just that—the past. But they’re not. They’re here, hovering, haunting. It feels like I’ll crush under the weight of it all. He shifts above me and lets my wrists go, then wraps his arms around my upper body, hugging me while he separates my back from the forest floor. That’s when our eyes meet, and he blinks.
“Ava,” he whispers, stilling for a precious moment. His lips graze along my cheeks, soaking up my tears. I whimper and weep, the sudden tenderness a balm I so desperately needed. His lips find mine and we kiss, his tongue seeking me out as he holds me in his arms. He’s inside me now, in so many ways.
He pulls back and gazes into my eyes as I reach up and stroke the scratch along his cheek. My finger comes away streaked in blood. I bring it to my lips and suck, tasting copper, tasting him.
The change happens in an instant. His eyes dilate fully and turn to black. He dives into my neck and bites, hard, while he grunts and shoves his body into mine. I cry out, but my voice isn’t in protest.
I stare up at the night, at the moon peeking through the treetops, and somehow, some way, I always knew it would be like this.
He shifts his angle, and finds his way in deeper, his body pulsing and rubbing against that center between my legs. It sends shockwaves blasting through every cell, every nerve, until I arch into him, throw my head back and come. The world explodes within me, but he’s there to hold me together. His arms tighten around me and I meet his eyes while he comes with me. In that moment, I see a life—my life, our life, but it’s a life I know can never be.
“Oscar,” I whisper.
He stills, gazing at me with such tenderness I think I might break from the weight of it. His lips graze across my tears, his cheek rests against mine. Ever so gently, he withdraws from inside me and gathers me into his arms. I’m limp, unable to move. He holds me to his chest as I begin to weep. Without a word, he stands, cradling me against him, and walks us back through the trees, past the pool, and into the house. By the time he makes his way upstairs to his bedroom and into the bathroom, where he turns on a soft light, my tears have dried
He sets me on the vanity counter and takes my chin between his fingers and looks deep into my eyes. “Are you alright?”
I nod, even though I don’t feel alright. But I don’t feel bad. I just feel…different. Like I’ve been reborn, in a brutal sort of way.
Gavin studies me. The beast is gone, sated for now, leaving the man with tender green eyes. He shakes his head. “Crazy girl,” he whispers.
His gaze drifts past me and remains there. “Do those hurt?”
I crane my head over my shoulder and blink when I see my reflection in the mirror. On my back, along with some smudges of dirt, are a maze of cuts. Some are small, some are large, some are seeping blood. There are some bruises as well, but nothing bad. I turn back to him and shake my head.
He grazes his fingers over more scratches along my legs, my hips, my arms and up by my shoulders. “What about all these?
I shake my head again, and that’s when I notice his arms. I gasp and reach for his hands and hold them while I stare at the outside of his forearms—his mangled forearms. There’re covered in blood and bruises and gashes. All of them would’ve been on my back had he not protected me.
“I’m sorry,” I whimper.
“Don’t be. I’m not.”
I can’t stop staring, can’t stop the tears that fall.
“Hey,” he says firmly, cradling my face with his hands. “Look at me. Don’t be sorry. I’m not sorry. That was…,” he pauses and closes his eyes, “that was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.”
The sincerity in his words touches me deep, easing the hurt. “Really?”
“Really.” He taps me playfully on the tip of my nose. “Now stay here and don’t run off. I’m not sure we’ll survive it. I’m going to start us a bath.”
Gavin steps away and walks across the bathroom to an oversize black bathtub that sits beneath a large window, the lights of Santa Barbara twinkling beyond it. Around the tub is a soothing palette of silvers and charcoals, with flashes of obsidian stone from the nearby shower that shimmers under the overhead lights.
I sit there in a daze—a dreamy, delirious daze, while I watch him. His body is scratched all over, much more so than mine, giving his tall muscled build a warrior’s appearance, as though he’s just been through a battle, which in some ways, he has—we both have. I watch him sit on the edge, testing the water with his hand while he adjusts the temperature. His ab muscles bunch and ripple as he leans over, his biceps flexing with every movement. I imagine him here on his own, drawing a bath for no one but himself. It seems a lonely act. But I sense that’s how he lives his life. On his own.
With the water now rushing, he walks past me and adjusts a switch on the wall that sends the room into a deeper glow. He steps back and takes me into his battered arms without a word.
I cling to him, watching his face, watching his long dark lashes rise and fall against his green eyes. The cut on his cheek has dried too. It gives him a feral look that heats me to the core. I reach up and gingerly run my fingertip over it. “Did I give you this?”
He smiles and meets my gaze. There’s something like pride in the way he looks at me. “Yes.” He leans down and kisses my forehead. “Yes, you did, my little nymph.”
My…
The word strikes me like a fist to the chest. It shouldn’t mean so much, but it does. Because it means I’m his, even if just for a night. I stare at him while he stares back. Something in the way he looks at me has me wondering if he let the word slip. He almost seems as struck by it as I am. His mouth tightens and he looks away.
Neither of us speak as he approaches the tub.
He steps in and carefully lowers me down. I suck in a gasp when the water envelopes the cuts on my feet and legs, but he holds me steady. With one hand, he reaches over and turns off the faucet, and sudden quiet descends. Now there’s nothing but my shallow breaths and the ripple of the bathwater as we move.
He guides me down, holding me as a new wave of pain envelopes me with every cut that breeches the water. When I’m fully immersed, he sinks in behind me, making no sign of the pain I know he feels.
He takes the soap in his hands and begins gently washing my back. When his fingers graze the cuts, I whimper, but stay still, relishing in the healing touch. I’ve never been cared for like this. And I wonder if I ever will again.
When he’s finished with my back, he reaches around and begins on my arms, my breasts, my stomach. But while the touch is intimate, it isn’t sexual. He’s washing me with a reverence that makes me feel like the most precious being on earth. His touch runs across a cut on my arm and I flinch. His arms tighten around me. “You’ve got something in there,” he says. “Be still.”
I watch his fingers gently but firmly work at the cut until a tiny thorn emerges. It falls into the water and drifts away. “Better?” he asks.
I nod.
After he’s worked his way over my body, I take the soap from his hand. “Your turn,” I whisper, pulling away and turning myself so I’m between his legs, facing him.
I gasp again at his arms, the gashes more revealed now that the water has soaked much of the blood away. I frown and take his right arm in hand. “This one
may need stitches,” I say, running my finger alongside a particularly deep cut along his forearm.
“It’ll heal, hopefully scar.”
I look up. “Why would you want it to scar?”
“So I’ll always have a memory of you.”
I turn away, a tightness settling around my throat.
Quietly, I set to work, washing every nick, every cut. More small thorns appear, along with little pebbles and fragments of dirt and slivers of wood. I move on to his other arm while he never makes a sound, never adjusts his breath. I notice a set of small marks on the inside of his left wrist—a tattoo—and I run my fingers over it. It’s four vertical lines with a line running diagonally through them, with two more vertical lines next to it, for a total of seven marks. I look up, wondering what it means.
He stares at me, his eyes dark, perhaps even sad. “You don’t want to know.”
I look back down and nod, knowing we both have our secrets to keep, then move on from his arms to the rest of his body. I soothe every hurt, caress every part of broken skin. In many ways, this was my doing. I led him down there. I ran knowing he would chase me, and even more certain he would catch me.
When I finish, I look up and meet his stoic gaze. I want to say I’m sorry again, but his eyes stop me. He stands, water cascading off his body as he holds out his hand. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to.
He’s hungry again.
I rise and let him guide me out of the tub, where we left our mark on the water—it’s murky and tinged pink.
Once again, I’m swooped up into his arms and he walks us back into the bedroom, water falling off us along the way. The moon has shifted, but there’s still enough light to see his face, to see the desire set deep into his eyes. He lays me down on the bed, watching intently as I wince from the contact of the sheet to my wounds. He grabs a condom from the drawer and with a quick, graceful move, he’s on the bed, crouched over me.
“I know I hurt you before,” he says. “I know you’re hurting now. But I’m still going to hurt you again.”
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