“Well, that’s a relief ‘cause you kind of smell like poo, too.” Cheryl wrinkled her nose in what would have been an amusing comment had it not been directed at her and her current lack of personal hygiene.
Realizing for the first time that she was no longer wedged between a bathroom counter and a door preparing to barter with a would-be rapist for her freedom, but lying safely tucked under her own sheets in her own room surrounded by her friends, Cheyenne took a moment to breathe a sigh of relief.
“My god,” she whispered, throwing her leaden arm over her eyes. “I’m alive.”
“Well of course you’re alive,” Tabitha snarled uncharacteristically. “We wouldn’t all be sitting here talking to you right now if you weren’t.”
Cheyenne peeked under her arm in confusion at what she could have possibly said or done to elicit such a reaction.
“Tabs,” Kris barked, “why don’t you take a walk?”
Screwing her face up in disgust, she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Cheyenne’s head throbbed anew as sharp, blinding stabs of pain lacerated her skull.
“Would someone please remove the knife from my brain?” she moaned, clutching her head, desperate for it to end.
“Get her some of my ibuprofen,” she heard Kris say to someone.
After she swallowed down a couple of the horse pills and marveled briefly at how something that large could actually fit down her esophagus without choking her to death, Cheyenne curled up on her side again, taking comfort in Kris’s insistent stroking of her hair.
“Tell me what happened,” he said in a low, soothing voice.
“I don’t know.” Reaching for the memory, another searing pain shot through her. “I can’t remember.”
“It’s okay, baby, don’t worry about it right now, just rest.” Leaning forward, Kris kissed her clammy forehead.
As he watched her fall back to sleep, he frowned, worried over her mysterious disappearance and reappearance. One whole day and night she had been gone. He and Sebastian had turned over every rock and searched every crevice they could think of trying to find her and had come up with nothing. Desperate, he had returned to her room the next morning after and leading an all-night search party, only to find her lying peacefully in her bed.
She looked like hell warmed over. Her hair was nothing but frizz exploding out in every direction as if she’d stuck her finger in a light socket. Her skin was pale. At first glance, she had looked deader than a doornail. Racing to her side, he’d grabbed her up into his arms and shook her, panic ripping through his insides.
When he realized that she was still breathing, he checked all of her vitals, which thankfully turned out to be normal, but when he’d taken her hand into his, he had noticed that the tips of every finger on her right hand were blackened, almost like they had been singed. Or she had indeed stuck her finger in a light socket…one by one.
He couldn’t think of a plausible explanation.
Just thankful that she was alive, he had called the rest of the team to tell them he had found her and had remained steadfastly by her side ever since. He would not fail her again.
Turning to the rest of his friends who were lounged in every available corner of the room, he drew in a long-suffering breath. “Why don’t you all go get something to eat and head back to your rooms for the night? There’s nothing much left to do here.”
“Are you sure?” Tim asked, though the twinkle of hope in his eyes belied the deep felt concern ringing in his voice. Kris knew for a fact that he was aching to go after Tabitha to try and patch things up since their break-up early that morning. Kris almost smiled when he thought about the reaction Cheyenne would have when he told her the news that he’d won their bet.
“It’s fine. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on her.” He showed them to the door. Once they were gone and he was finally alone with Cheyenne, he crawled into bed beside her, wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her hair. God, he loved her so much. The way she smelled, the feel of her slight yet curvaceous body fit against his.
His chest ached at the knowledge that she most likely wouldn’t return the sentiment, and so he took what little comfort he could grasp in the small amount of time he had to be with her right now.
Pulling her so close not even a whisper of air would dare to come between them, Kris snuggled up to catch a little shut eye of his own.
Waking up to an empty bed, Kris sat up, allowing his sleep filled eyes to rove over the room in search of Cheyenne. When he heard the shower running, he laid back in the bed giving a cat–like stretch. His night spent in her bed had been the best sleep he had had in a long while.
Pressing his nose to her pillow, he reveled in her lingering scent and remembered back to when they had shared mornings like this together laughing and smiling with one another.
He could still see her radiant face, the sunlight cutting across her peachy skin in a golden blaze. Her long Auburn hair trailed down her back, caressing her flesh the way he now wished he had done with his own fingers.
The last morning he had spent in their bed before he had gone and screwed it all up, she had sat at the edge of the bed brushing her hair. He couldn’t even remember what he had said to her, but whatever it was; she had turned to look at him over her shoulder, her big brown eyes warm and full of laughter. He had caused that. The memory of that one perfect moment was etched into his memory like a brand, and was just as painful because it was something that he may never have again.
Emerging from the bathroom wrapped in her black silk robe, Cheyenne went to the closet to scrounge up a pair of jeans and a sweater. Her first thought when she’d woken up was that she was in desperate need of a shower. Her hair was tangled and greasy, her skin oily, and she hated to admit it, but she wasn’t smelling so hot either.
Once the warm spray was beating down, dispelling the chill in the air, a second thought presented itself: What happened last night? She had a gaping hole in her memory. Did she drink too much at dinner? Oh, God, did she sleep with Kris? That would explain why he’d been in her bed, snuggled up next to her, when she woke up. The last thing she wanted to do was go down that road again. Kris was a great guy, but she had tried the whole relationship deal with him and had gotten royally screwed in the process.
No, she didn’t want to deal with the repercussions of a mistake like that. And she knew as she turned off the faucets and stepped out of the stall that she’d have to sit down with him to make sure that they were on the same page.
Still, a little horrified at the amount of grime that had been on her, she looked bashfully at Kris, who lay sprawled across her bed, an easy smile playing on his face.
Even though they weren’t together anymore, the idea that he had even been that close to her funkiness was hugely embarrassing and brought heat to her face considering what he must have been thinking while he breathed her in throughout the night.
Even so, it warmed her heart to know that he cared enough for her to withstand her griminess, even if it meant that he didn’t have any standards when it came to women and cleanliness.
“Hi,” she said when their gazes met. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”
“No,” he said quickly, rising up to rest on his elbows. “Don’t worry about it. I just woke up. All on my own. Yes ma’am…” his voice trailed off.
If Cheyenne hadn’t been so intimately familiar with his outgoing, showoff, playboy personality, she would almost think he was nervous. “Okay,” she said, elongating her response. She pointed behind her. “I’m just going to go get dressed real quick, and then you can have the bathroom.”
He nodded, but before she got far, someone knocked on the door. Leaping from the bed, Kris made a beeline for the door like someone had lit a fire under him. Cheyenne had never seen him move so fast in her life. Eyes wide with curiosity, she stood in the center of the room to see who it was.
Kris pulled open the door and had to look up to meet the visitor’s narrowed gaze. S
tanding at what must have been six and a half feet tall, the man was dressed in a navy sweater that clung to his body and did a piss poor job at hiding the fact that the guy was ripped like nobody’s business. His dark hair was slicked back into a pony tail, and his lips were set into a tight line. Cold as ice, his blue eyes burned him to his soul with an unwarranted fury that made Kris cringe back in fear.
“Um.” Clearing his throat, he fumbled for words. “Can I, uh…Can I help you?”
“There was a woman here last night,” he said in a thickly accented voice so deep it rivaled James Earl Jones as he peered over his shoulder into the room.
More than a little unnerved, but more concerned with protecting Cheyenne, Kris moved to block his view, pulling the door slightly closed behind him. “Look, man, the only woman here is my woman, capiche?”
Bearing down on him, Kris could have sworn he heard the man growl at him.
After several long, freaky ass seconds, the feral look dissipated and the man’s face turned somewhat pleasant. In his thick accent, he held out his hand to him. “Sorry for the misunderstanding. Wrong room.”
Kris shook his hand. “Been there, my man. Rough night last night?”
He flashed a cunning smile. “You have no idea.”
“The name’s Kris,” he introduced himself, feeling more at ease.
“Erias.”
After their introductions, Kris returned to the room. During their brief talk, he had learned that the man was a native to the area, and that he knew of their presence and why he, and his teammates were there.
A bit of an adventurer himself, he had asked to tag along on their expedition back up the mountain, and seeing no reason to deny someone with first–hand knowledge of the terrain; he had agreed. Besides, he seemed like a pretty cool guy once you got past the hard outer shell. They were supposed to meet up for breakfast in an hour.
“Oh, man, you wouldn’t believe what just happened,” he started. Taking one look at the horrified look on Cheyenne’s face, his words died instantly. Rushing to her, he enveloped her in his arms. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
She was shaking like a leaf and muttering incoherently against his chest. Holding her back so he could see her face clearly in the dim light cast from the open bathroom door, Kris asked her again. “Cheyenne, tell me what’s going on?”
“It’s…it’s…” Tears streamed down her face in torrents.
Giving her a sharp shake, Kris bent down to her level bringing their faces in line with one another. Hooking her chin with his finger, he forced her to look at him. “Tell me,” he demanded.
“It’s him,” she whimpered. “He’s the one who attacked me last night.”
“Who? The guy at the door? Erias?” he asked, his heart racing a mile a minute.
Her fingers clutched desperately at his collar before she nodded, her eyes welled with tears as she stared back at him pleadingly.
Impotent fury coursed through him as her words washed over him.
He was going to kill him.
Chapter 12
She couldn’t even believe that Erias had been there. The second Kris had opened that door it was like the floodgates had been shoved open, and the black hole in her memory was instantly filled in. Initially, she tried to talk herself into believing it was all just a dream. A really horrible nightmare complete with a devastatingly handsome boogeyman that she wouldn’t mind taking to her bed, but she knew better, of course. She’d been kidnapped, tortured, and then…she’d woken up in her bed.
How as that possible?
One thing she did know, she hadn’t slept with Kris. Thank God for small favors, she was relieved to have at least one problem solved, but that left her with one monster of a problem to solve. A psychotic killer was in the hotel with her, and he was clearly after her.
He had been right there, just feet from her, a flimsy door and Kris—who looked like a waif next to his burly frame—the only things standing between them.
God what would she have done had he shoved Kris aside to get to her? Probably nothing, that’s what. The moment she heard his voice her body had stiffened, gluing her to her spot in the middle of the room. And as terrified as she was, she was ashamed to admit that another part of her–some very, very distant part of her, the sickest part, the one that clearly needed mental help–had wanted him to come for her.
Kris had stormed from the room right after she told him about her encounter with Erias. His eyes were blazing with rage that he barely held in check. She wanted to ask him to stay, not to get killed, but she couldn’t make the words come out.
Numb, she waited for him to return. Though, she had no real hope of that happening because from the cold, calculating brutality she had witnessed, Erias would rip him to shreds.
Kris sat at the small table across from the man Cheyenne had claimed attacked her. In her state, the way he had found her, he could understand how a story like that could be believed.
She’d looked like she’d been attacked.
The thing was, and as Erias had explained, they had met the first night their crew had arrived, talked a bit here and there in passing, and last night, when she appeared at his door, he had welcomed her in.
According to him, after a few drinks one thing had led to another. Knowing Cheyenne like he did, he didn’t actually believe that she would make up a story like that and drag a good man’s name through the mud, but he did know she closely guarded her virginity like a national treasure, and she wasn’t much of a drinker.
He could just imagine the horror she must have felt waking up in some stranger’s bed after a night of drinking to realize that she wasn’t pure anymore.
Nowhere near pleased that she had slept with the man but knowing he had no place to say anything about it; he slumped back in his chair. “Man, I really am sorry for coming at you like that. I feel like such a tool right now.” Kris shook his head in embarrassment.
Clapping him on the shoulder, Erias chuckled. “No worries, man. Women can be confusing creatures.”
Kris grimaced as he watched Erias rub the stubble on his jaw where it was red and swollen. “Are you sure you don’t want any ice for that?”
“You have quite a right hook on you there, brother, but I’m cool. This here,” he pointed to the tender spot on his jaw, “I’ve had worse. Besides, I’m a quick healer.”
“Cool.” Standing, Kris stuffed his hands into his jean's pockets. “I should get back.”
“Yeah, I’ll see you out.”
Once in the hall, Kris spun around. “Still on for breakfast? I know the crew will be interested in meeting you. They never can get enough of history.”
Erias flashed him a smile that reminded him of a rabid dog eyeing his prey. Not pretty. “I’m practically history walking. See you there.”
“I’ll talk to Cheyenne, smooth things over,” Kris called to him as the door shut in his face.
What a peculiar man.
Cheyenne popped up from the bed like a jack–in–the–box on steroids, and ran up to meet Kris at the door.
“You’re alive,” she breathed.
Kris gave her a funny look. “Uh, yeah. What else would I be?”
Moving to the table by the window, Cheyenne grabbed a seat next to him and watched as he unlaced his boots and set them on the floor against the wall.
“So…what happened?” she asked, eager for details. “You don’t look too worse for the wear. No signs of being bludgeoned. What did you say?”
“Sadly, the only one who was bludgeoned was him.”
Cheyenne’s eyebrows arched up in surprise. “You hit him? Whatever possessed you to do that? You could have been killed!”
“Well, thank you for the vote of confidence,” he said irritably. “I was trying to defend your honor, and I succeeded in socking an innocent man in the face.”
“Innocent?” she screeched. “That man is nothing of the sort. He makes Hester Prynne look like a Catholic school girl, for crying out loud! From the second I met th
e guy, he hasn’t been able to keep his hands or eyes off of me. It’s creepy.”
“Well, he apparently he wasn’t creepy enough for you to keep your hands to yourself, was he?” Crossing the room, Kris folded his arms across his chest and gave her his back, too angry with her–with himself–to look at her.
“Just what is that supposed to mean, Kristopher Allan Klein?” she snapped.
“Nothing,” he mumbled, afraid of what he might say. “Just forget I said anything.”
“Well, I can’t forget. If there’s one thing you can’t take back, its words,” Cheyenne argued. “Now tell me what you meant by that.” When he didn’t immediately answer her, she marched up behind him and wrenched him around by the shoulder to face her.
His face a mask of rage, Kris’s lips pulled back from his teeth as he leaned down, bringing them almost nose to nose. “I meant that we’ve known each other our entire life,” he snarled. “And out of the whole year that we spent as a couple, the furthest you ever let me get was sleeping in your bed, but after meeting some random guy in the middle of nowhere, you hop right into bed with him and give him everything you’ve denied me and everyone else who’s ever been in your life.”
Cheyenne was shocked stupid at his claims. She had never done any of the things he accused her of. Yes, she had shared her bed with him. Yes, she had never allowed it to get further than kissing or touching, but then she had always dreamed of giving her virginity to the one man she intended to spend the rest of her life with. The fact that he, her best friend, had been able to hurt her like he had just proven that she was right in not giving in to his pressures.
“I can’t believe you,” she ground out, jabbing her finger into his chest to punctate her words. “I gave you everything I had to give. I gave you my trust, my love, and the one thing I wanted to keep for myself, that I would have given you; you couldn’t wait for. No, you had to get it from somewhere else. How dare you try to hold that over my head, you know how much it means to me.”
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