by LeAnn Mason
Large arms wrapped around me and squeezed. My God, Nat, I am so sorry. I-I haven't… I haven't broken down like that in a long time. He ran a hand down his face like he was wiping a vision from his eyes though we both knew it would do nothing to expel the images. I'm okay.
The last seemed like he was reassuring himself as much as me, if not more. I hated that he had to deal with such pain again. Hated that it was in part my fault. “I'm so sorry, Holden.”
What? Why are you sorry? You didn't do it. Turbulent mercury eyes pierced my soul when they met mine. I'd only ever seen them that color when he was worried about me. When he was scared. I hated that anyone was able to make him scared for his life. The strong, intuitive and caring man I'd come to know should never be reduced to the quivering mass of pain that I'd witnessed.
The true horror came when I realized this was as a child having this reaction because of his parents. Family was supposed to cherish and nurture, not torture and maim. And there welled the tears again.
Holden noticed and ran a tender finger under my eye to catch the runaway saltwater. Baby, you should never cry. It kills me that I'm the reason you are now.
“No! It's not you. It's those vile… things who hurt you.”
My pare—
“No,” I growled, catching Holden off guard. He scrunched his brows while he puzzled out what to say.
“Those people are not parents. Parents do not berate their child for not speaking. Parents don't try to murder said child!” The tears were really flowing now. It seemed the angrier I got, the faster they fell. I hated it. It made me feel weak, not to mention it was confusing the hell out of Holden and making his anxiety ratchet up again.
Geez, I was botching this big time. Deep breaths, Nat, I reminded myself while Holden rubbed his hands up and down my back in his own attempt to soothe me. “I'm sorry. I'm good now.” I just needed to convince myself of that fact. “Good news is I was able to pull you out of it.” I gave a watery smile and looked up at him from under my lashes.
That you did. Though I’m not sure I'd welcome any time you'd like to wake me up like that, he cringed, a lingering shiver wracking his large frame.
“Is that why you don't speak at all?” I wanted to let it drop… I really did, but my mind was still spinning with it. My inquiry was met with jumbled and tumultuous thoughts, feelings and images. It took a long few moments for Holden to calm and organize those thoughts.
That incident. The one you witnessed, I was ten, and my father gripped me so hard that he damaged my vocal cords and windpipe. My uncle stopped by just in time to save my life. I'd blacked out already. I was still breathing but not well.
Holden took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling, trying to detach from the emotions of the past. His voice succeeded in sounding like he had, but the rest of his thoughts and the creeping red haze belied his calm. At least he was pissed now as opposed to scared. I'd take that any day.
He rushed me to the Emergency Room where a younger doctor did his best to save my independence. Saved the windpipe but at the expense of the vocal cords. My head moved with his deep shrug. A big movement to help convince me he didn't care. A lie of course.
The doctor was your father, Nat.
CHAPTER 16
THE DOCTOR WAS YOUR father. The utterance of those five words was like grabbing a live wire with my bare hands. It fried all my comprehension. I didn't understand what he was telling me. My head was shaking so much I was making myself dizzy. This night was frying my brain cells. Every time I recovered from one blow, there was another right behind it. A perfect combination of punches delivered by an expert fighter.
He and my father… knew each other? I couldn't wrap my head around it, but then I remembered a curiosity I'd witnessed when I first told my father about Holden. That one inciting conversation at the barn those months ago, I told my father about it when I’d gotten home. He'd mumbled something about coincidence when I'd mentioned Holden was a mute Primal. It had struck me as odd, but I'd quickly forgotten about it, and neither man had given me any further indications that they’d known each other. They’d had to have though. Not only from the surgery, but there would have been a follow up, probably many, to check that Holden was healing correctly. That situation would have stuck out in my father’s mind… right? So why had he not told me? Why hadn’t either of them mentioned it?
This last straw was just too much for the day. There was no way I was getting back to sleep now. I had too many unruly thoughts swirling anxiously around my brain. I scrambled from the bed, flicking my eyes to the clock on the stand next to it. The neon green numbers read 4:12. Rubbing my face, I paced away from the bed and to the chest where my clothes resided. There was enough moonlight filtering in through the curtains that I could make my way around. I needed to move, to expel the energy, the turmoil raging through me.
Where are you going? Nat? Come back to bed. Please.
I couldn’t look at him, not right now so I just shook my head without turning and continued rummaging through my drawers. While there was enough light to move around my room without maiming myself on the furniture, there was not nearly enough to actually see the difference in garments within the drawers. I settled for just grabbing something that felt comfy and called it good. I heard rustling behind me and knew Holden was coming for me, so I snatched what I had and beelined it for the door. “I just… I need a moment,” I begged, yanking open the door to flee into the upstairs bathroom.
What a week! What else was going to fly at me? Murder, broken foot, revealing my healing to Holden, meeting his bitch of a mothe… realizing that Holden had nearly died as a child and that my father was the one to help him get through it. My head was going to explode. I wasn’t sure there was room for all the revelations and my sanity. One might get pushed out, and right now it felt like it would be my sanity. With one last thump of my head against the bathroom door, I set about getting dressed.
While I had succeeded in grabbing comfy clothes, I had failed to get matching attire. Go figure. Icing on the cake of this craptastic twenty-four-hours. Whatever. I’d have to worry about fixing it later. I shoved my legs into the floral patterned stretchy pants with a grimace. I had no idea where they had come from, definitely not my type, but when most of the clothes available to you were cast-offs from the ninnies outside the walls you were shut behind, sometimes you made do. These pants seemed to fall into that category. The shirt wasn’t much better, what with gold stars adorning its surface. Luckily, it would most likely be at least a couple of hours before I had to deal with jeers from the rest of the team.
Right now, I needed music and a run. Maybe then I could clear out the mess rattling around in my head. I brushed my teeth quickly, because yuck, and took a fortifying breath before heading back to my room.
The room was empty. No Holden still lying in my bed. I was both relieved and oddly saddened. I snatched my music player and headphones from their charging station on the nightstand. Then, grabbing my running shoes from the closet, I made my way to the door.
I’m so sorry, Nat.
The words came as I reached the head of the staircase. Looking over my shoulder, I saw a distraught Holden pulling a shirt down over those defined abdominals I had spent so long memorizing. His mind was a mess. The man had been with me every step of the way on my journey of revelation, many things impacting him more than me. I mean they’d happened to him after all. “I know Holden,” I took a deep breath while I searched for what I needed. My arms rose and fell to my sides, making it look like I was trying to use them to fly. I felt so helpless. “There’s just a lot to process. It’s been a shit week. For both of us. I’m going for a run… if you want to join me.”
I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to accept my offer or refuse it. I didn’t know if I needed space or to be forever wrapped up in his strong embrace. Two steps and he was to me, those beautiful, ever-changing eyes struggling between blue and silver. He was worried but fighting it. That tumult gave me my answer, and I hurried into his hard bo
dy, his arms instantly wrapping around me, securing me. Saving me. I was pretty sure I could get through anything if Holden were by my side. “I’m sorry for bailing,” I murmured into his warm chest.
He just squeezed, kissing the top of my head before putting me at arm’s length and turning me back toward the stairs. I know your foot is apparently healed, but you should probably not push it the day after losing the boot.
See. The voice of reason. I needed him around.
Especially when you can trip over thin air.
I took it back. I stuck my tongue out at him over my shoulder then promptly missed the next step and began to tip forward, my shoes flying from my grip to bounce away. I was thankful that my music player was basically glued to my hand. I’d be devastated if I ever broke it. I really didn’t want to fall down the stairs this morning, not after Holden’s comment especially. My newly freed hand scrabbled for purchase on the railing to keep me upright.
I got you, Holden chuckled from behind me as a hand snaked around my waist to hold me. Another few steps, and we reached the bottom where Holden finally released me. My cheeks flamed with embarrassment as he quipped, See? What would you do without me? before lightly smacking my bum as he brushed past me toward the kitchen. Get a little something in your stomach before we head out. It’s still dark out, so we’ll need headlamps, or we can just go out to the training barn.
Ugh, I did not want to be awake this early. I wasn’t a morning person on a good day, and this wasn’t a good day. The hour was nowhere near decent for waking. Maybe we could do some weapons training. That could break the tension riding me. Maybe. “Weapons?”
Well, we can train, but I think it’s probably too early to pull out the guns. Wanna prod me? He waggled his eyebrows, hands on hips. Holden’s version of joking was still a beautiful picture – the loose, silky shorts sitting low on his hips; that treasure trail again peeking from below the hem of his tight white tank and drawing my eyes.
Was I drooling? I drew my fingers across my mouth just to check. Nope, not physically, just mentally.
“Okay, how about a spar? Then maybe we can do weapons a bit later?”
Holden nodded and grabbed a bottle of water for each of us along with a package of granola bars. Fuel. You’ll need something in your belly. I don’t want to hear it yelling at me just yet. He quirked his lips in a devilish smirk, the move causing little lines to crinkle the corners of his striking eyes. All traces of the nightmare scrubbed from his features and, like a ghost only whispering suggestions of hurt, barely noticed in his mind.
That was impressive. I needed to get him to teach me that trick though I hated to think about just how he’d gotten so good at burying his pain.
*****
Pain radiated from my side as Holden and I circled each other on the springy mat of the training ring, the red ropes enclosing it like overgrown rubber bands, effectively keeping us within the confines of the raised square. I’d bounced out of their embrace a couple of times already in my ineffective ploys to get away from Holden’s mean right hook. He’d landed one though, which explained my side.
Remember to watch for cues. Most people will give you some indication of their intentions with their bodies, Holden preached as he jabbed me backward again.
I took a deep breath, bouncing on the balls of my feet a couple of times to shake out the heaviness in my limbs. Focus. I needed to focus. Mind reading came in quite handy in a fight. Well, with some people. Holden was good at not thinking about his next move, so his words about reading the body were helpful for those instances.
I learned that if he was going to strike with his right hand, his weight went subtly to his left leg, and his right shoulder hitched a little higher while the left dropped a bit. I used it to smash my fist into the now exposed left side of his face. A love tap to him, sure, but I still made contact. However, so did he. The movement of the strike he’d shown didn’t stop the arm from shooting forward when mine delivered its counter blow.
The impact of brain and skull had me seeing stars as pain exploded across my cheek.
The read was good, but you need to keep your guard up just like I do. Dropping your hands away from your face will be your biggest window to be taken down. If you have a choice of being struck in the head or body, choose body.
“I’ll never match you,” I complained as I dragged a ragged breath into my burning lungs. “Fights look so easy on TV. They’re such liars.”
Holden’s throaty chuckle was like a balm to my pounding head. You are very right. Most fights cannot be sustained for more than one minute. It takes too much energy. The longer you fight, the more draining. If there is a way to end it quickly, do it.
“Well, that would only happen if I fought dirty,” I countered, punctuated with a jab.
Then fight dirty. You do what you need to do to come home to me.
“The only one I can think of is to kick a dude in the balls. That and scratch and pull hair… and cat fighting isn’t my style.”
Yeah, you’re too strong for uncoordinated attacks like that, He smirked at me again and batted my hand away as it sailed toward his face. Go for any soft spot you can reach. I’d say groin, throat and eyes. But you can’t be squeamish.
“Pssh! I’m not squeamish,” I scoffed.
If you push your thumb into a man’s eye, you can’t let up until you feel it burst. Holden challenged then shook his head as I most likely turned a little green at the image. He pointed at me as he stood in the ring, all movement coming to a stop. See? That right there. Can’t do it. He sauntered slowly toward me, those intense eyes pulsing, the silver trying to gain purchase as Holden fought to control his wayward thoughts of me being attacked and needing to gouge out someone’s eye. The vivid image once again had my measly breakfast threatening to make a repeat appearance.
I need to know that if you are in a situation you cannot win, you will fight to survive. At all costs.
Holden was totally all up in my personal bubble now, our breaths heavy and eyes hooded. He was so intense, so consuming, that I often lost myself in him. I hated to admit that I loved that he worried about me, that he cared enough to, but I couldn’t let his fear for me rule our decisions. As long as he was giving helpful advice and not just freaking out, I was going to take it.
CHAPTER 17
“C’mon, Captain! This one’s all yours.” Devlin chuckled lightly from the doorway as I stood my ground while the giant boulder of a man barreled toward where I stood planted squarely in the middle of the walkway doing my best impression of a brick wall. I was so totally going to be flattened in about 2.5 seconds, and Devlin just watched, a cheerful twinkle in his eye, completely at ease with the idea that I was going to be a pancake. He would be rid of me, free to go about his merry way and not have to deal with the hybrid Enhanced girl who shocked him at every turn. He wasn’t a fan of the idea of actually liking me eventually… but I was growing on him.
The Primal currently bearing down on me, not so much. His thoughts were totally in the fight or flight, “flipped” mode of instinct, and he was in flight because he didn’t think he could take Dev. He didn’t have that problem with me. I was a much smaller obstacle, easily overcome.
He was here, my time had run out. “Stop!” I yelled. A sneer was my only answer.
I huffed, heart rate exploding. I couldn’t think of a rational way to stop him except…
A howl of pain so anguished I expect dogs would cringe rent the air as the big guy dropped to his knees just in front of me then fell to the ground on his side. His knees pulled up to his chest with hands cupping his groin just as he… exploded into flames. His eyes streamed tears that were instantly vaporized to steam as he squeezed them closed and mentally recited a litany of just how much pain his manhood was now in. That worked rather well… minus the fact that he was a writhing fireball now. We couldn’t get anywhere near him, never mind actually detaining him.
“Remind me never to piss you off,” Devlin lamented as he stood beside me
on the walk, cringing in sympathetic pain with the downed Primal.
“Holy crap! The guy’s a flamer.” I stood stock still, gaping. “I’ve never encountered one.” I bobbed my head as I amended, “At least as far as I know, anyway,” more to myself than Devlin. It seemed that kicking a male as hard as you could in the twig and berries truly did render them incapable of aggression, of anything really. It even made this one burst into flames. I’d have to tell Holden that our talk this morning about fighting dirty was utilized – and worked – at least until the pain dulled, and I had a sneaking suspicion that time was fast approaching.
“He’s about to snap out of it Dev, could you please do something before we have to worry about wrestling him again? Or he decides to give me a very heated hug?” Geez, we’d not gone over how to deal with flamers. The heat was intense, the smell like a bonfire as all his clothes melted away and fluttered away on the breeze. What can I do to a guy who was literally on fire? I wondered.
“Well, you didn’t finish the job now did you Cap?” Oh, he was in a rare mood today. I quirked an eyebrow and delivered a dead eyed stare, which I hoped conveyed just how much I appreciated his take on the situation. Devlin huffed a raspy laugh, his baby blues twinkling and blonde locks mussed.
The problem with this whole “longer on top” look Dev was rocking nowadays, was that whenever we actually had to do something, it totally got in the way. It was like being around a girl who refused to put her hair in a ponytail but then constantly complained about it being in her eyes; exactly like that, only on a gigantic Primal male whose muscles all had muscles of their own. The Diva.
I shook my head in feigned annoyance while trying to hide my smirk as Dev tossed his head around over and over in his failed attempts to dislodge the mane from his field of vision as he bent over the now recovering and naked male at my feet in order to secure his hands. If I weren’t telepathic, I’d never know that the reason Devlin was sporting a hairstyle which was absolutely absurd for our everyday activities.