Settling into the blessed heat, he pulled her against his chest and leaned back, curling both arms around her midriff and holding onto her tightly. “Might as well let the whole damn lot free, little dove. We're not going anywhere for a while.”
Despite the warmth of the water covering her up to her slender neck, Ava trembled viciously. Such a sensitive little thing constantly tortured by her own thoughts. He wondered if the voices were at work now, pecking at her while she was most vulnerable, her defenses too low to be of any use.
Maybe it was time to give them a little competition, he mused. Drown the fuckers out so all she heard was his voice.
“Where should we start, little dove?” he murmured. “We both agreed the slates were clean for this afternoon's mishap, but I'm thinking there's something not quite resolved there. Either that or you really hated what we just did. I'm hoping that's not the case, because I've fucked up more than enough lately, but I'd like to know. Honesty, Ava. I'd like the truth.”
Her head rolled, tucked under his chin. Beneath the water and the freaking explosion of bubbles, her fingers moved restlessly on his broad forearms. Thankfully, her tears seemed to be slowing, and she hitched in a breath thick with remorse. Her voice was quiet, taut. “I didn't hate it. It was different, but you didn't make me feel like a...” Her breath shuddered out. “I shouldn't have worried about it as much as I did.”
“Make you feel like a what?” Finn gave her a few seconds to answer, then took the matter into his own hands. “We've discussed this before, haven't we? It doesn't matter what we do on the kitchen table or in bed, the shower, the fucking horse stalls. You're not a whore or a slut, Ava.” Her shudder gave her away. “I could never see you that way, darlin'. Sure, you're my dirty girl sometimes, and I love that about you. It only means you're a woman in tune with her sexual desires, who understands what she likes and is willing to try things that occasionally scares the shit out of her delectable body. There'll never be any judgement here for being who you are.”
“What if I'm tired of who I am? I mean, look at me, Finn. I'm twenty-seven years old. No job. I can count my friends on two fingers. My arms look like I tried to wrestle a lawnmower. The best thing in my life is you, and who's to say one day I do something you can't forgive?”
Aftercare was not going the way he'd envisioned, but she was talking. Finn decided to roll with it and see what secrets she was willing to spill of her own volition...with a little assistance. “Got to admit, I'm pretty damn gone over who you are, Ava, lawnmower wounds and all. You want a job? That's not a problem, there's enough work around here for you to do if you've a mind to get your hands dirty.” He pressed his lips to the crown of her head, breathed deep. “As far as friends go, to my mind, it's not about quantity; it all comes down to quality. Seems to me, Rosie is pretty high quality.” He paused, his gut tightening as he thought of what he had to say next. “There's only one thing I could never forgive you for, little dove, and if that happened...well, you wouldn't be here to deal with my wrath anyway.”
Her head tilted back, watery blue eyes meeting his hollowly. “I wouldn't?”
Finn's lips pressed together hard. Fuck, he didn't even want to say the damn words. Taking a moment, he gripped her left arm and lifted it from the water. Droplets pattered back into the tub, but his gaze was locked on the thick pink scar marring her flesh. The worst of all the ones she wore, the one that had come so fucking close to destroying her. “This was an accident, darlin'. You know how lucky you are to still be here.” His thumb skimmed over the ruined skin. “This is what I couldn't forgive. Another accident, another cut too deep. Losing you this way,” he told her gently, “is unforgivable in my eyes.”
“I don't want to die, Finn. I swear I don't. But the voices are so...convincing sometimes. Constant, demanding.”
The Dominant inside him sat up quickly, alarmed by the defeat in her voice. For the first time since he'd met her, Finn began to have doubts they could conquer this between them. Though it stung, just a touch, he realized if keeping his little dove safe and whole by his side meant foregoing his pride and asking for help, that was what he would do.
He didn't have a clue where to start looking, but he knew someone who would.
Their return to Black Light might have to come sooner than he'd originally thought.
“Well then, I guess it's down to me to be more convincing, isn't it?” he murmured in her ear soothingly, ignoring the chill of dread jabbing into his spine. “I can be as demanding as you like, little dove. Those voices aren't mine, are they? They can't compete with the voice of your Dominant, Ava. You need to believe that.”
“It's the voice of my father,” she blurted. “The many voices of Bartholomew Conway.”
Hmm, thanks for that, darlin'. Now I have a name. Finn made sure his sub felt the pressure of his arms around her, pulled her attention firmly to him and only him. “Father or not, he's not here, Ava. I'll make it my mission in life to keep him away from you if that's what you need. He has no control over you or your life anymore; he has no right to hound you to death. Your voice is the one that matters. If you can't trust it, then trust mine. We've got a future ahead of us, darlin', and I'll be damned if I let anything take that away from us.”
The slippery body in his arms twisted, water and bubbles lapping dangerously at the edge of the tub, then Finn's chest was assaulted by a pair of breasts he was incredibly fond of. Slim arms roped around his neck, warm lips brushed over his before Ava rested her head on his shoulder. The rest of her was uncomfortably positioned between his spread legs—there was a serious possibility her knee might castrate him if she moved too quickly—but the moment was too precious to lose.
“We're going to see our way through this,” he promised fervently. He didn't care if he had to sell his soul, the ranch, his cattle to keep his word, she was going to come out on the other side of this hell. In one piece, living and breathing. Whatever it took, he would do. How could he do anything else when the only other eventuality in their reality was burying her six feet deep in a pine box, with a headstone summing up the entirety of her short existence?
“Tonight was my fault, Finn. We said the slates were clean, but mine isn't.” She said it so miserably, his heart sank with the forlorn edge of her tone. “I haven't been honest with you. I've wanted to cut for days. Every day when you haven't been here, the voices...my father's voice...it got worse.”
It was the night for confessions, apparently, and Finn braced himself for the barrage of pain he sensed skidding down the tracks toward him. He was man enough to hear what she had to say, process it, and learn from his mistakes. “Why didn't you tell me?”
She sighed heavily. “Sometimes I feel like I don't have the right to. It feels like I'm complaining, and I don't want to be the submissive or the girlfriend who whines about not seeing her lover enough. I'm the outsider, Finn. I don't belong here, not yet. Little city mouse living in the country without the first idea of what to do or how to act. You work so hard and I...I just kinda float around and wait for you to come home.”
Goddamn it, he was going to strangle her. “How long have you felt like this, Ava?”
She shifted restlessly in the water. “A while now.”
He managed not to crack a tooth as his jaw clenched. With remarkable restraint, he kept his tone calm and even. “You're not a guest here, Ava. You live here. If you're unhappy about anything, from the amount of time I spend outside to the color on the goddamn walls, I expect you to tell me. You're not an accessory in my life I've parked here for my convenience, darlin'. You're part of my life now. I don't care if I'm busy, you tell me what's wrong so I can fix it.”
Her fingers worked anxiously against the nape of his neck. “The ranch was here before me, Finn. You can't just drop—”
“The hell I can't!” he exploded, sitting up so quickly, half the contents of the tub flooded the tiles. “Goddamn it, Ava. The ranch will survive without me. I can't survive without you. I can and will drop whateve
r I'm doing if I need to.” He pulled her back so he could look her straight in the eyes. “Especially if it means I don't walk through the door and find you dead.”
“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “Please don't be mad.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, dropping his forehead to hers. Somehow, that simple connection always calmed him. “I'm not mad, darlin'. I'm frustrated.” Yes, that's a better way to put it than absolutely fuming. “You might as well tell me the rest. Aftercare isn't going to be effective if there's still things left unsaid. The voices got worse while I was working,” he prompted.
When she squirmed, her knee insistently nudging his balls, Finn gripped her hips and lifted her so she straddled his thighs. Thrilled with the new position and the naked woman perched in close proximity, his cock perked up with one thing in mind.
Looking adorably nervous, Ava blushed. “They're not nice. They play on my worst fears and call me names, and sometimes when they talk to me for too long, I sink into depression. Not the crawl into bed and not come out for days kind of depression, but...it's hard to explain. I get nasty, bitchy. I feel weak and vulnerable and anxious, and then it all collides and I just want to grab the nearest sharp object and start...” she trailed off with a shudder, her hands fisting between her breasts as though the storm built inside her chest. “I was sitting in the pasture behind the house when you texted me about dinner. I'd gotten my hopes up, thinking we might actually have sex, and then I read your message and I was back in that funk.”
Finn frowned, trying to remember exactly what he'd written in that text. Something about having dinner and going to bed early, he thought. He'd been dealing with a customer at the time, an asshole with illusions of grandeur who thought Finn's stock was worth considerably less than what it actually was, and Finn had been looking forward to a quiet dinner with his girl followed by a night of reacquainting himself with her on a more intimate level afterwards.
“All the doubts came rushing back, and then the voices were telling me to do stupid things, and I got so angry. I didn't mean to leave my phone behind,” she told him earnestly. “I don't even remember dropping it. I just wanted to get away, to run away before...I caved. I got on Kinx and I just...I just wanted him to shut up. So many voices, and they're all him, Finn. It's my fault Kinx is hurt. Everything's my fault.”
“No,” he said grimly, “it's not. Accidents happen, Ava. The mare will be okay, she just needs time to rest. But I think we are going to change the way we do things from here on out.” He cupped her face, his expression fierce. “No more feeling like an outsider, little dove. As of tomorrow, when I'm in the barns, you're with me. If I'm riding fence, you're with me. I'm going to cut my working hours and we'll spend more time doing things you want to do.”
“Finn—”
“Do you honestly want to argue with me right now, Ava? I'm torn between blistering your hide again for hiding this from me and kicking my own ass to Bozeman and back for not seeing it.” When she blinked back fresh tears, he leaned forward and kissed away the one that escaped. “No one deserves to be lonely, darlin', and I know better than anyone how lonely it can be out here. So, when calving's done in a few weeks, you and I are going away. For a weekend, a week, a fucking month. I'd thought about going back to D.C. and visiting Rosie, maybe Black Light if you want to. Or we can go to Australia, France, wherever you've dreamed of going.”
A soft, bewildered laugh escaped her. “I don't have a passport, Finn.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Easily rectified. Next objection?”
“I don't want you to spend money on me. I'm happy right here.”
“Little dove, I have more money than I need for this lifetime and the next. I promise not to go crazy spoiling you, but I've waited a long time to meet someone I have any desire to take care of. Taking a break will do both of us good, and God knows I could use a vacation of sorts.” He acted quickly when she opened her mouth to protest, covering it with his own. When she went limp and pliant, he smiled and eased back. “Now, have we covered everything bothering you?”
She touched her swollen lips with her fingertips. “If I say no, can you kiss me like that again?”
“I'll kiss you like that anytime you wish.”
“I'm sorry I've caused so much trouble, but I think you know everything.” Ava's hand shook as she lowered it, and he saw the secrets still lurking behind her eyes. Not everything, no, but he soon would. For now, they'd been through enough tonight.
He reached out and snagged the washcloth from the rack hanging off the side of the tub. “No more apologies, Ava. Tomorrow is a new day. For the rest of the night, you're going to relax and let me look after you.” He began washing her with light caresses of the cloth, watching her eyes flutter. “Don't ever doubt my feelings for you, little dove. I don't.”
Chapter 5
Ava
At four a.m. the next morning, Ava found herself with her head in her hands on the kitchen island, her eyelids propped open with matchsticks, as her sadistic lover moved gracefully from stove to refrigerator to sink with the ease of a man who fended for himself on a regular basis. Her stomach, baffled by the fact the sun was nowhere to be seen, was both tempted and disgusted by the scent of bacon and eggs coming from the frying pan on top of the huge stove.
Finn wasn't lying when he told her they'd be doing everything together.
She knew he got up earlier than she did most mornings, but this? This was ridiculous. There were some nights when they didn't roll off each other until two in the morning. How the hell did he function on two hours sleep, let alone put in a full day of physical and mental work?
You're about to find out, aren't you? Bitten off more than you can chew with him. Said it before, I'll say it again—you're over your head, little slut. Think you can keep pace with the big rancher? Think again. He can run circles around you. He won't carry you forever, stupid bitch. The sympathy will die, and he'll bury that compassion with you in your grave.
Ava's breath hitched. It was too damn early to have her father pissing her off. Her ass was still tender from her meeting with Finn's belt, which served as a huge reminder not to listen too closely, but the sly whispers were itching under her skin, taunting her to cut them out.
You could be my good girl, couldn't you, instead of an utter disappointment. Trying so hard to please your 'Master', being a bad fucking whore, a dirty cunt, all for the approval of a man who likes what he gets between your legs. If you'd been half as willing with me, maybe you wouldn't be desperately trying to avoid the truth of who you are. Your bitch of a mother called you Ava because it means 'life'. But you cost her hers, didn't you? All you are and were ever meant to be is death.
No, that wasn't right. Her mother had died when Ava was barely a year old. Ava couldn't remember her, and by the time she was old enough for memories, her father had burned every last trace of the mother of his child in a trashcan in the backyard. Sent the last chance of Ava ever knowing anything about her mother swirling in plumes of smoke toward the heavens.
Oh, she remembered that day.
How old had she been? Three, four? The recollection was vague, but it was there. Her father carrying bags and picture frames out into the weed-riddled yard, stuffing them into the can, snapping wood and glass. Standing beside it, swigging from a bottle, then stuffing a cigarette in his mouth and striking a match. Lighting the cigarette and tossing the tiny flaming stick into the pile.
Flames rising, small at first, until they became a roaring inferno, consuming everything laid out before them. Reflecting in Bartholomew's eyes like he was Satan himself. It was the first time she could remember being afraid of her father, without being able to put a word to the emotion. No doubt there'd been times she couldn't remember, or maybe even repressed, when he terrorized her. It was the kind of man he'd been, and probably still was.
What kind of man dragged his toddler up the porch steps by her hair? Starved her of love and care and food? Monsters didn't live in cupboards and under the bed, th
ey didn't lie in wait in closets and in the shadows. No, her monster marinated himself in the devil's juice, drinking and smoking in his armchair with the snowy screen of his TV barely projecting images and the sound warbling nastily through speakers smacked too hard one too many times. Her monster hated women, period. He used the ones down enough on their luck to step into his lair, but he despised the women with the brains and the guts to stand up to him, to turn him down, to go into the world and make something of themselves without needing a man.
Her monster lived in her head.
“You okay, darlin'? You look pale.” Finn turned from the stove, frowning in concern. Christ, what a picture he made. Black jeans, bare feet. Belt buckle undone. His black and gray chequered shirt was open, spread wide enough to show off a wide strip of defined muscle and chest hair. He leaned over the counter to nudge her chin up, study her face. “Maybe I should have let you sleep a bit longer.”
I am not death. I did not kill my mother. I am not listening to him. Ava scrubbed her hands over her face, hoping Finn wouldn't see what she was hiding, then pressed her fingertips into her burning eyes as she forced a laugh. “You won't hear an argument from me on that, Finn. This is not an Ava-approved time to be awake.”
His fingers skimmed her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear. When she let her hands fall, his palm cupped her cheek. “Why don't you go back to bed? I can get some chores done, come back for you at seven. You slept restlessly last night.”
“Oh really? And how would you know that?”
“I didn't drop off until after two,” he said casually, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb. At her arch look, he shrugged one broad shoulder. “It was a difficult night for you. I wanted to make sure you settled okay, and I had quite a bit of thinking to do. Plus,” he added with an amused quirk of his lips, “you kick like a fucking mule in your sleep when you're restless.”
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