by Nashoda Rose
It was cruel, harsh, but what had I expected? “Not what I was asking.” His hands settled on my waist and I tried like hell to keep my breath steady. “I meant who am I to you. As in what does the sex goddess over there know?”
Jasper’s brows lifted and his hands rose a little higher so that his thumbs rested just under my breasts. He leaned in and whispered, “My sister.”
I huffed. “She’ll never believe that.”
“I don’t give a fuck what she believes. She’ll accept whatever I tell her.” Then his hands dropped from me and he turned and walked to Julianna and looped his arm around her waist. “Anything to eat, Jules?”
Her laugh sent a shrill down my spine and the cold ice wall slammed shut over my emotions. They walked toward the kitchen arm in arm; Julianna leaned over as if to nibble on his ear and I saw him pull away from her, but then she said something and he chuckled.
I hated him.
I CRIED AND SHOOK SO badly I could barely stand. He stood behind me, making sure I didn’t bolt, although I’d learned a long time ago that running and disobeying only caused more pain, more scars.
I looked over my shoulder at him. “Please. I’ll do better.”
He glared at me; arms crossed, a barricade against any escape. I lowered my head and then stepped into the shower, the freezing cold water instantly soaking into me.
Pain.
How could water cause so much pain? But within minutes, every inch of me was so cold it felt as if I was burning. I wrapped my arms around myself to try and control the shivering, but nothing would stop it . . . except him.
He controlled my pain and my comfort.
Finally, he nodded and I scrambled from the tub. He waited with the towel and then wrapped me in its warmth, his hands gently rubbing my arms and back.
Suddenly, it all changed and I had chains on my wrists and ankles and he was coming at me with the scorching metal rod. No. God no. My Ink. He was going to kill my Ink.
I sobbed on the floor, my foot with my Ink tucked under me. “No. No.”
Now we were at my Talde’s house and I was ten years old again; the day he took me. I was looking in on the scene as Drake and I stood together, his hand casually over my shoulder as we watched my house burn. I wasn’t crying. I was calm and accepting.
Then he said, “Let’s watch Jasper burn.”
I woke screaming.
I bolted upright in bed, my skin damp, hair stuck to my cheeks like cling wrap. The sheet was wrapped around my body like a cocoon. I panicked and scrambled out of the tangled mess, falling out of bed and landing on my knees. I knew it was just a dream but still I rubbed my wrists and ankles, making certain the shackles weren’t there.
The blanket of fear smothered me. I was that girl again, squeezing my eyes shut with a desperate plea that the imaginary world I was living was just that; imagined—it wasn’t.
Desperate.
Alone.
Scared.
I staggered over to the corner of the darkened room, the moonlight lending its hand to show me the way and sank to the floor. Bringing my knees to my chest, I wrapped my arms around them and weaved my fingers together. I was sweating but freezing cold, unable to stop the violent trembles.
The door burst open and I jerked my head up.
Jasper stood in nothing but his jeans which had obviously been hastily thrown on because they were undone and revealed the trail of sparse hair. His dagger was in his right hand, stance wide and ready as he scanned the room. Every muscle was flexed, eyes black and narrowed with brows drawn over them. There wasn’t an inch of him that didn’t look tense and ready to slice apart any that got in his path.
This was the Scar assassin. The man who had every right to be cocky as hell. A beast. Threatening and virile. A predator.
And yet, it was comforting. I took a shaky breath as he saw me sitting on the floor in the corner of the room. He lowered his arm and his shoulders sagged.
“Jesus, Max.” He kicked the door closed with the heel of his bare foot and strode toward me. He came closer and crouched in front of me. I heard the creak of his denim jeans as they stretched. He reached out and picked up a strand of damp hair and rubbed it between his fingers. Letting it go, he traced a finger down the moisture on my cheek. “You’re sweating. And crying.”
“It’s hot.”
“Bull. You have a fever? How’s the wound?” He put the back of his hand to my forehead and I shoved it away.
“It was just a dream.”
His scowl deepened and the lines around his eyes accentuated. Jasper looked primitive; every bone displaying its purpose. There was no uncertainty with the structure of his face, or his expressions. And in some sort of fucked-up way, I liked his scowl the best. It breathed emotion. “One hell of a dream to be screaming like a horde of vampires are in your room.”
I shrugged.
“Don’t fuckin’ shrug at me.”
The remnants of my dream washed away as my anger rose. “Get out, Jasper. I’m fine. Go back to your woman.”
His frown wavered for an instant and then returned full force. “It’s called a nightmare.” Whatever. “What was it about, Max?”
Crouched, arms resting on his thighs and eyes penetrating. And it wasn’t with heated smoldering desire; this was heated anger. He was pissed off. I wasn’t sure why this annoyed him so much. Because I’d woken him up? Or maybe he’d been in the middle of fucking Julianna.
“Nothing.”
“What the fuck was the nightmare about, sunshine? You haven’t had one like that in months.”
I stiffened, eyes darting to him. “What?” How would he know? I knew I had one tonight because of what was happening, but he was right. “How do you know that?”
“My job to know.”
I didn’t believe him. Had he been there? All those times I sensed him near me. Smelling his scent in my room. Feeling as if he was watching me. Had it been true? “Where were you for the last six months?”
He tensed, but after a moment, he sighed and then his face softened. “Been around. Now, what was the dream about?” He moved over to the wall beside me, sat on the floor and leaned against it. Then he stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles as if he was making himself comfortable for a long haul.
Been around? I stared for a second at his bare feet, how his nails were kept short and tidy. For some reason that didn’t surprise me . . . that he looked after himself. “Watching me?”
He ignored my question. “What was the dream about, Max?”
I think that was the second time he’d called me by my name, and despite hating myself for liking it—I did. The way it rolled off his tongue in a deep roguish sound sent tingles across my skin. “My past. Nothing unusual,” I said.
He raised his arm and then in a gentle movement, hesitant, he tucked the hair behind my ear. The second the pads of his fingers touched my face, goose bumps rose and my breath hitched. His expression softened and then he wiped the tears away with his thumb one by one. “They about whoever put those scars on you?”
My breath hitched and I looked away.
“Whoever he is . . . I’ll never let him near you.” I didn’t believe him and why should I. I was a job to him and when it ended, he would leave and those words meant nothing.
“Do you lie to all your jobs?”
It was like a light switch went off in him and suddenly he was stiff and tense. The softened expression was gone and in its place was a harsh, cold anger.
“You scream like that in the wrong place, wrong time and it’s a fuckin’ beacon. I plan to live long enough to get my job done.”
I had no misconceptions of who this man was. However, Xamien probably did. He was an assassin and killed for money. But this job was the opposite. He was getting paid to protect me. I wondered why he’d even do it? Why would an assassin take this job? It didn’t make sense.
“Do you really not know who is after me?”
“No. I wasn’t given that info.” His harsh gr
ip on my chin slipped away and he was silent a minute. I started to get up to go back to bed when he seized my arm. “Are you going to have any more nightmares tonight?”
I shook my head. I never had more than one a night. At least that was how it had been for the last few years.
He nodded, got up, walked into the adjoining bathroom and turned on the shower. My heart stopped and a sliver of unease shifted through me. Why would Jasper do that? How did he know I had a hot shower after a nightmare? Even when we’d first met, he hadn’t known why I’d been showering at midnight.
He came back out and walked straight to me and reached out his hand. I stared at it for a second and it was a second too long because he leaned over and grabbed my arm, hauling me to my feet.
He led me into the bathroom then turned to leave.
“How did you know?” My words stopped him.
He paused and I saw the tension in his shoulders, but I wanted to see his face, because unless Xamien told him, which I was a hundred percent sure Xamien wouldn’t talk about my nightmares with anyone, then Jasper had found out some other way.
“You’re cold and sweaty. Simple deduction.”
Before I could say anything more, the bedroom door opened and I caught a glimpse of Julianna standing there wearing a red negligee that accentuated all her curves and left nothing to the imagination. I never had the need to feel jealous, but I did now. I wanted to run over to the door and slam it in her face. Better yet, grab Jasper and kiss him right in front of her.
I did neither.
“Everything okay, mon cheri?”
My chest tightened and I ground my teeth together. The tension in the room was so intense it was as if the pin on a grenade had been pulled.
“Yeah. It’s good.” Jasper strode to the door, and started to shut it, but not before I caught a glimpse of Julianna placing her hand on his arm.
I didn’t sleep the rest of the night.
Jasper strode into my room before the sun had even risen. He was properly dressed this time, hair wet and tussled, and smelling like papaya and lavender. It didn’t suit him. Jasper had a natural earthy scent—erotic.
He stopped just inside the door and briefly looked at me curled up in the rocking chair by the window. I caught the twitch of his brows lowering and the unsettled storm in his eyes. Something was off and I wondered if Julianna hadn’t satisfied him.
I’d been sitting here ever since the shower, trying to figure out my options. Jasper might not think I had options, but I did. I could’ve left last night and I was betting he would’ve been too busy fucking his French princess to realize I’d gone.
But Xamien told me to stay close to Jasper, that he’d explain everything to me, and I trusted Xamien’s judgment. I could decide what to do when I saw Xamien.
“Get dressed. We need to be on the road in five.” He walked out, leaving the door open.
A minute later, I heard the roar of the bike’s engine and then three revs. Shit. I threw on my jeans and ran to the adjoining bathroom, quickly peed and stuck a wad of toothpaste in my mouth. I slipped on my shoes, ran out the bedroom door and smacked right into sex goddess.
I should’ve politely thanked her for her hospitality and walked away. The old Max would’ve done that. But the rumble inside me from seeing Jasper walk out of my bedroom last night still simmered. My anger was directed at Jasper, but Julianna was playing me and I didn’t like it.
“Don’t think you’re special because my brother was with you last night.” I kept my voice calm and controlled.
Julianne slowly smiled, her lips pulling back to reveal her pearl white teeth. “We both know he’s not your brother.” She raised her chin and my hand curled into a fist as I imagined punching her in the nose and seeing her land on her ass, fawnlike legs in the air. “He was in my bed, not yours. And has been a number of times. That makes me special.”
I raised my brows. “Oh, didn’t you know? Specials are whatever needs to be used up before they go bad.” Her back stiffened.
“Max!” Jasper shouted.
I looked past Julianne’s shoulder and saw him standing at the other end of the hall looking all-encompassing with his stance wide, shoulders broad nearly filling the width of the hallway. I knew he’d heard me; the question was whether he heard the entire conversation. Of course he did; he was a Sounder.
“Get your ass on the bike. Now!”
Julianna snickered.
I glared at him and muttered. “Yes, sir.”
He heard me. “For fuck’s sake.” He turned on his heel and two seconds later, the front screen door slammed.
I glanced at Julianna then raised my chin and met her glare. “Thank you for your hospitality.” Then I brushed by her, followed Jasper outside, walked to his bike and climbed on. He started it up again and I put my hands on the back bar. He reached behind, grabbed both wrists and pulled them forward so my arms were around him.
Then we left Julianna’s.
It was an hour before we stopped again and it was only because I had to pee so badly. I tapped him on the shoulder when the next roadside café came into view and he pulled over and stopped. I was already off the bike and running toward the bathroom before he shut down the engine.
He caught me at the door of the diner, latching onto my wrist.
“Jesus. You have a guy after you who can Trace. Might want to remember that before you go running off? ’Cause, sunshine, no matter how good I am, I can’t fuckin’ Trace, so if he gets to you first, you’re history.”
I hesitated for a second as his words caused a tremor to shift through me. Even the word Trace reminded me of Drake.
Jasper crossed his arms, his foot holding the door open. A man and woman walked toward us, took one look at Jasper, and opted for the other door.
“I’m not scared. I want to know who is after me. It’s important I know.”
His jaw clenched. “Told you. I don’t know. He never told me. But I do know that you are scared. You’re terrified as hell of whoever put those scars on you; otherwise, you wouldn’t be having nightmares about him. Fear is eating away at you from the inside out. I can see that as clear as the fuckin’ sun.”
“Don’t think you know me, Jasper.” Because all he saw was a damaged girl with a fucked-up past and the wad of cash he’d get when the job was done. “You will never know me.”
We stood staring at one another before finally the tension in his arm holding the door relaxed. “Didn’t you have to pee?”
I did have to pee—bad. I attempted to walk away, but Jasper snagged my hand and led me up to the front counter. He chin-lifted to the waitress. “Washroom?”
She replied in Spanish and pointed toward the right of the counter. Jasper didn’t say thank you, merely pulled me behind him, slammed the flat of his palm into the door and walked inside. A girl reapplying lipstick balked at him, eyes widening. She dropped the lipstick into the sink and it clanged, swaying back and forth inside the porcelain bowl. I was getting that Jasper had that effect on girls. Whether she was shocked at a man in the ladies room or because he was currently radiating anger was debatable.
“Out,” Jasper ordered.
I was going with the anger.
The girl fumbled with her make-up bag then quickly ran by us. I was about to say something to Jasper about his rudeness but shrugged it off. Like I always said, people rarely listened to what they didn’t want to hear. Jasper certainly didn’t want to hear what I had to say, so it was a waste of breath.
He leaned up against the vanity, hands curled around the lip of the laminate counter. His brows rose as he stared at me by the door. Was he really going to stand there while I peed? This was about dignity and peeing in front of Jasper even with a closed stall door was . . . well, I wasn’t going to do it.
The tap dripped.
The shitty cigarette-stained counter creaked under his grip.
Dishes clanged in the nearby kitchen.
“Sunshine, Jesus. Have a piss.”
S
hit. Double shit when he crossed his arms. There was no point asking him to wait outside; his answer would be no.
I went into the stall, slammed the door, slid the latch aside and then undid my jeans, sat and peed. When I came out, he pushed off the counter and walked to the door. I washed my hands then went to push the dryer button when he caught my wet hand with his and pulled me out of the bathroom.
“Hey, I need to dry my hands.”
He kept walking. “Blower that loud when I’m trying to listen for anyone coming . . . common sense.”
“You need lessons in basic human civility,” I muttered.
“Not human, angel.” He touched a waitress’s arm on her way past. “Two café solo’s and two rye toast with butter. To go.”
It was annoying that despite his rudeness, the woman looked at him with a dazed look and a brilliant smile. What was it about hot men getting away with being rude? If I had done that, she’d have called me a bitch and I wouldn’t have been served.
“Sure thing, sweetie,” she said with a heavy accent and a wink.
“Thanks, love.” Jasper cocked a grin.
I rolled my eyes. “How did you know that I took my coffee black?”
Jasper guided me over to a stool and I sat. “I notice things.”
“At the first diner, you told the waitress two black coffees. How did you know?” The shower. The coffee. My nightmares. He knew I ate rye toast with butter in the morning instead of the traditional sugary churros. “Jasper?”
He shrugged. “I told you I was watching Xamien’s place for a few days.”
“You got all that in a few days?” A trickle of unease tap danced across my skin.
“It’s my job, Max.”
Suddenly, everything changed in him and the tension shifted to the easygoing playboy. He had this aura about him, a magnet that awakened the molecules in my blood stream from the slow lazy river to an ocean of tidal waves.
His hand casually swept my hair away from my neck and my breath hitched. I glanced up at him while his finger traced over the nodules at the top of my spine. The butterflies fluttered, panties dampened and my heart tripled its pace.