Lesson In Faith (Club Serenity #4)

Chapter One

Tamsyn

Frost crunched under her feet as she staggered through the forest toward the lights she’d been following for the past four nights. It was so cold, her breath streamed out in plumes, billowing around her on air brittle enough to shatter.

There hadn’t been a lot of time to prepare for running away in the middle of January before she’d actually done the running—she’d dressed in clothes she’d stolen from the shed, shoved her feet in boots two sizes too big, and bundled herself up in an old jacket that had seen better days.

She’d taken nothing else, because she owned nothing else.

She was numb from the top of her head to her painfully cold toes. Honestly, she was surprised she’d made it four nights out in the wild with the temperatures dropping to below freezing every time the sun went down, and barely warming up enough to melt the frost during the day.

She didn’t dare stop moving for long; not just because she might curl up in the roots of one of these massive trees and succumb to the cold, but because if she stopped for any length of time, her father and his friends would find her and drag her home.

For all twenty-six years she’d been alive, the mountains had been her home. Conceived, born, and raised in a remote community miles away from the hustle and bustle—and sins—of the general population.

Her father called her a dreamer, always thinking of things she shouldn’t instead of focusing on the matter at hand. Dreamers weren’t valued; neither were women in general.

Tamsyn tripped over her own feet as her vision wavered, hunger threatening to shut her body down if she didn’t find something to eat. The thought of food, however, ignited an urge to throw up when she remembered how close she’d come to missing the signs of her father’s betrayal.

She found her balance, catching herself on the thick trunk of a tree, then went flying as she took another step forward and slid on an exposed root slippery with frost. This time, there was no chance of recovery—she fell hard, her body rolling down the steep gradient, picking up momentum until the world became a nauseous whirlwind of revolutions and pain.

Something ripped. Something popped.

Her wrist struck a hard object, the bone crunching.

She rolled through piles of decaying leaves, slowing her down enough that when the inevitable happened, the impact of hitting a tree didn’t snap her in two. It did, however, jar her to an agonizing stop, stealing what little breath was left in her lungs, showering her with pain.

Groaning, she lay there in the dark for several minutes, trying to gather her bearings. Come morning, she was gonna be bruised to high hell—worse than the time Elder Richard caught her playing tag with his sons in the orchard. The beating he’d given her hadn’t just brought blood to the surface of her skin, but sent the message deep into her muscles.

She hadn’t been able to sit down for a week without crying.

Whimpering under her breath, Tamsyn untangled herself slowly, torn between throwing up and passing out when her left arm throbbed in time with her heartbeat. Maybe the freezing conditions would prove to be a blessing rather than a curse.

When she sat up, she realized the next few days were going to be hell. She knew from experience the worst pain wasn’t when trauma happened, but the time after, and she hurt now. Luckily, nothing seemed to be broken but her wrist, and maybe it wasn’t actually broken. A fracture would be easier to deal with, but when she tentatively tried to rotate the joint, she bit back a scream as the bones ground together.

No, definitely broken.

She dropped her head onto her knees, wincing when her muscles protested and her battered body wept. There was no choice but to move; if she stayed here, she was going to seize up, then the cold would eat into her bones, leech into her veins and heart until her blood froze.

Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing—when her father found her, she’d rather be dead than let him take her back to what waited for her.

She’d been in worse situations than this, she told herself, rolling carefully onto her knees. God knew she’d been in a hell of a lot more pain. This is a cakewalk compared to some of her father’s torture.

Pushing to her feet, she swayed in place. Tiny dots of white flashed through her vision, dancing merrily in the dark. After a few seconds, it dawned on her that they weren’t dots.

It was snowing.

Oh, wonderful. Inching her way out from behind the tree, she was relieved to find the ground wasn’t as steep. It was more of a surprise to find the lights she’d been heading for were literally under her nose.

The gentle flurry of snow was quickly gaining strength. More and more flakes were tumbling from the sky, growing larger by the minute. It was settling, melding with the frozen ground until a thin layer of white blanketed everything.

Tamsyn tilted her head back, letting it kiss her face. There was something soothing about snow. Peaceful. Beautiful. Quiet. She loved how some flakes fell straight down while others twirled. The straight shooters and the dreamers.

Tentatively, her body turning into one massive pulse of pain, she headed toward the clusters of buildings in the near distance before they were lost in the snowstorm. It was stupidly easy to get turned around in a snowstorm, and if nature decided to be a bitch and elevate things to blizzard level, she didn’t want to miss her chance at salvation.

She was more careful with where she set her feet this time, padding through the snow and the dark as she cradled her broken wrist. She tried not to make a sound whenever it jostled; she didn’t want to wake anyone, after all. All she wanted was warmth and safety, for however long it lasted.

The locals couldn’t be any more hostile than her own community.

As she approached the first buildings, she realized they were cabins. Big, solid log cabins with curtains in the windows. Smoke drifted lazily from some of the chimneys, and there were lights glowing behind some of those curtains.

Oh, to be warm again.

By her guess, it was well after midnight. She didn’t want to scare anyone by hammering on their door in the early hours of the morning, especially when she didn’t know who lived here or how they’d receive her—her father welcomed anyone who knocked after eight p.m. with a loaded shotgun in their face, and he knew everyone in the closed community like family.

Getting shot would be the frosting on her cupcake of misfortune.

Her oversized boots crunched on a gravel path, the sound muffled by snow. Small lights lined either side of it, beckoning her to follow. Trudging forward, her teeth beginning to chatter with the cold and maybe a touch of shock, she wound her way through the maze of cabins until she reached more buildings. More cabins?

No, she deduced, not cabins. They were similar on the exterior, built to look like cabins, but they didn’t have curtains or chimneys. In fact, several buildings seemed to have blacked out windows, which sent a shiver of foreboding down her aching spine.

The biggest building of them all was just across the way, a hulking shadow looming through the snow. To her relief, there were more curtains, and several chimneys on the roof; when she got nearer, she eyed the porch and the furniture slowly disappearing beneath layers of fluffy white.

Glancing around, Tamsyn bit her lip. There was no harm in trying the door, was there? If it was locked, she could curl up in the corner and wait for morning—at least the porch roof would keep the worst of the elements off her for a few hours.

Gripping the stair rail with her good hand, she crept up the three short steps onto the porch, shuffling toward the door. Maybe her hand trembled slightly as she reached for the handle, but she was the only one who knew it.

The door swung open easily, without so much as a squeak of hinges.

A wash of warmth flooded out, hitting her like a fist to the gut. It flowed over her, luring her in until she found herself standing in a fancy hallway, shivering and swaying.

There was a desk to her left, the chair behind it empty.

Voices, many voices, hummed from a pair of doors to the right.

She heard a man laugh, low and deep, followed by several more, and suddenly she was aware of what kind of situation she’d dropped herself in. Lost, lonely female walking into a strange compound, into a house full of stranger men…

Christ in heaven, how stupid could she be?

Looking down at herself, she realized there was no way to pass herself off as anything but lost and injured. Her boots were obviously not hers, her bare toes visible through a split in the leather and new holes in her wet socks. Her pants were ripped in several places, her jacket was in shreds, and apparently she was bleeding from a few nasty cuts she hadn’t felt.

They would eat her alive.

“…get that for you.” Heavy footsteps came toward the doors, and it dawned on her that the glass was, well, glass. As in see-through. As in, they could see her.

Panic picked her up and swept her away. She stumbled forward, pitching herself down the hallway. A staircase was on her left, but there were several doors to her right. She dove for one, tugging uselessly on the handle, before hurrying to the next.

More laughter erupted, louder this time as the doors opened.

Tamsyn nearly cried as the second handle she tried pushed down. She wrenched the door open and dove into a darkened storage cupboard. It was bigger than expected; light from the hallway illuminated stacks of boxes and shelves lined with bottles of every cleaner and disinfectant known to man. A row of mops and brushes were tucked away in the corner.

Hearing the boots come her way, she shoved herself behind the shelving unit, crouching down in the narrow space, cursing when she noticed she’d left the door wide open.

A massive shadow filled the open doorway a heartbeat later. “Wish people would learn to shut the damn door,” a deep voice muttered in displeasure. “Swear to God, half the goddamn staff were born in a barn.”

Just close the door and go on your merry way. Tamsyn sucked in a breath and held it, praying he would hear her silent command.

As always, her prayers went unanswered.

He stepped in, muttering to himself as he bent and searched the shelves for whatever he was looking for, using the light from the hallway to guide him. A big hand reached for something on the shelf level with her head, long fingers curling around a bottle.

He grunted in approval, turning around and leaving, slamming the door shut for good measure, leaving her in the dark.

Tamsyn exhaled slowly, swallowing down bile as her nerves threatened to break free on a laugh. She shoved her fist against her mouth, breathing through her nose, to keep it from escaping.

That was far too close for comfort.

Now she just had to wait until they all left or went to bed so she could sneak out again. Although now she’d felt warmth, she really didn’t relish the idea of wandering around in the cold and snow. Plus, she was going to have to find help for her wrist—it was starting to swell now her body was warming up, growing hot and painful.

The door opened again.

She froze, unable to even draw a breath.

This time, the light overhead flicked on. Through the gap where the bottle had been, she saw just how big the man really was—he was rather large, she thought, pressing her back against the wall. Older, judging by the silver shock of hair.

Suddenly, the whole row of bottles were swept aside by two of those big hands, and a pair of hard green eyes locked straight on her. “Huh. Thought I saw something back here. Bit late to be playing hide and seek with your Dom, girl. Come on out.”

She didn’t have a Dom, did she? No, she hadn’t come here with anything but the mangled clothes on her back. She had no idea what he thought she was playing hide and seek with, but when she tried to speak, her voice simply up and died under his unamused gaze.

“Don’t make me drag you out,” he said wearily. “It’s too late for games.”

A whimper rattled in her throat. She edged away, intending to cram herself in the corner where he couldn’t reach. There was no way he could get those broad shoulders between the unit and the wall.

Only, someone had stuffed the corner with enough toilet paper to last a lifetime.

Silver eyebrows, several shades darker than his hair and beard, drew into a frown. “You’re not a guest.”

She chewed on her lower lip.

Heaving a sigh, the man pulled something out of his pocket, hit a button, and held the device to his ear. “Grit, you seen anything suspicious on the cameras tonight? Shit, when did that start? Oh fantastic.”

Oh, it was a cell phone. Curiosity nearly got the better of her. Some of the residents, mainly the newer ones who joined the community because they were sick of ‘modern living’, often spoke about the technology available in the outside world, but Ridge Point was a strictly no-technology area.

“Yeah, we have a problem,” the man continued. “We have an uninvited guest lurking in the storage cupboard at the club house. No, female. Hang on.” He crooked a finger at her through the shelf. “Might as well come out. There’s only one exit, and I ain’t moving.”

Well, neither was she.

His eyes narrowed. Taking the phone from his ear, he pressed a button and set it on the shelf. Rolling his neck, he emanated waves of irritation and aggression.

Whimpering, Tamsyn cowered back further. She was intimately familiar with the kind of anger he displayed toward her; she felt the same intimidating emotions whenever she was in her father’s presence. Once that anger reached a certain point, it became volcanic, blowing up without warning, spewing terrible words and raining violence down on innocent people.

“Grit, do me a favor and get Vi out of bed.”

“It’s… two thirty-nine a.m., Merrick.”

“I know what damn time it is.” Easing his way around the end of the unit, slower this time, the man peered at her. Those hard eyes raked her over from head to toe, taking in every inch of her, before his frown disappeared. “Gonna need you to light a fire under Linnie’s ass as well.”

“Well, shit.”

“My thoughts exactly,” the man called Merrick murmured as he squeezed himself further into the narrow gap, holding out his hand. “You got a name, little owl?”

Little owl? Confused, Tamsyn looked over her shoulder, wondering if she’d somehow rolled over and squashed a feathered friend on her kamikaze fall through the forest. There were no feathers, no mutilated bird, so she guessed he was actually talking to her.

“Yes, you, darlin’. What’s your name?”

She didn’t need to open her mouth and squeak to know her vocal chords were locked. Whether it was from the cold or the fear hugging her like an overfriendly demon, she didn’t know, but one thing was for sure—she was muter than a dog toy with its squeaker ripped out.

“Think we maybe got off on the wrong foot here,” he continued when she remained silent. “Don’t know what happened to you, but you landed on your feet, little owl. Why don’t you give me your hand and let me help you out of there?”

Her eyes dropped to the offered hand. Twice the size of hers, the palm wide and strong. A ridge of calluses marked the base of his long fingers. It was obviously no stranger to hard work; it was just as obvious it could break her without too much effort.

“Violet’s on her way, Merrick. Linnie will be with you in ten.”

“Tell Vi to come in quietly.”

Tamsyn’s eyes widened. Reinforcements were coming? Was this beefcake not enough to subdue her on his own? She wondered if she was fast enough to shimmy her way to freedom through the shelves. She was quick on her feet if she didn’t get them tangled; maybe she was faster than him—he was muscular, built for lifting, not sprinting.

When her heartbeat picked up and her wrist screamed, she realized how futile daydreaming of alternative outcomes really was; she was at a distinct disadvantage on all fronts.

Skinnier, shorter than him—check.

Broken wrist, badly bruised, barely able to stand now the adrenaline was wearing off—check.

Hungry—check.

Thirsty—check.

Trapped in a corner—triple check.

What would happen if she slipped her fingers over that rough-skinned palm? Would he grab her, yank her out? Drag her off and rape her the way her father warned her men outside the community did?

Not that the men in the community were any better, she told herself.

“Little owl, you keep slidin’ down the wall there, I’m gonna have trouble getting you out. No one’s gonna hurt you here.” He wiggled his fingers. “Put your hand right in mine. That’s all you need to do.”

The warmth was beginning to addle her brain. It was finally starting to burrow under her frozen skin, sinking into her battered muscles until her body became a giant ache. Along with the discomfort, a horrible kind of fatigue nagged at her.

If she passed out, he was going to haul her out anyway, wasn’t he? What harm could she do by taking that step voluntarily? The end result was the same.

Warily, Tamsyn extended her right hand, surprised by the unsteadiness. It was practically dancing on the end of her arm, jittering away with nerves and hunger and whatever else. She set it lightly in his, snatching it away when his weight shifted.

“Close but no cigar, darlin’. Nice and easy,” he coaxed.

Exhaling slowly, she tried again, allowing him to gently curl his fingers around hers until he had a firm grip on her. Instead of yanking her toward him, he drew her out carefully, tugging lightly on her hand until she wobbled stiffly from her hiding place.

Merrick led her from the storage cupboard into the hallway, grabbing his phone, then closing and shutting the door so she couldn’t bolt back in. His gaze roamed over her a second time. “Got ice in your bones, and some pretty nasty wounds. That wrist sprained or broken?”

Tamsyn used her body to shield the injured appendage from him. It was twice the size it should be now, the skin hot and stretched too tight, her pulse echoing where the bone was snapped in two.

“No good hiding, little owl. You need help, you’re gonna get it.” Merrick lifted the phone between them. “Grit, I’m taking our visitor upstairs to wait for Linnie.”

“Is she okay?”

“My guess is she’s been better.” He reached out and pinched the back of her hand. “Dehydrated, obviously hasn’t eaten in a while. Banged up, bruised, and broken. Skittish,” he added, his lips twitching when she took a step back. “Concussion, maybe—her eyes are a little unfocused, and she’s cold enough she doesn’t know she’s shaking.”

Well, that was a lie.

Merrick’s eyebrow rose; his hand released hers, lifting to cup her cheek. She thought his grip was warm when it encased her colder one, but the feel of that wide palm covering her cheek was like a brand, heat searing into her skin. “She’ll need some fresh clothes when Linnie’s done with her. What she’s wearing is as ripped up as she is.”

“Leave that to me. What size?”

“Just send a robe over for now. She’s on the small side.” Reclaiming her hand, he urged her to take a couple steps toward the stairs. “Thanks.”

The lights shimmered and splintered into a thousand pieces for several long seconds. She shook her head to clear it, but that only made the illusion worse. Taking another small step on suddenly heavy legs, she swayed, forcing her knees not to buckle.

Merrick cursed and shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Here, darlin’, let’s get you upstairs before you collapse on me.” An arm hooked her around the backs of her knees, another across her shoulders. She was caught up in powerful arms, curled gently against a broad chest. “It’s okay if you need to pass out.”

Oh, she was floating. It took too much effort to hold her head up, so she rested her cheek against his shoulder. Everything hurt. As she slowly warmed up, so did the pain.

Merrick held her gently but firmly, climbing the stairs as though she weighed nothing. Each step jostled her, irritating her injuries. “Christ, you’re like a block of ice.”

Right down to the heart of her, she agreed silently. It felt like she’d never be warm at the core again; the bitter wind had driven winter into her bones. Running away in the middle of January probably wasn’t her smartest life decision, but given the alternative…

Dying in the mountains was preferable to—

“Merrick!”

He turned at the top of the stairs, sending the world spinning around her. Once it started, she didn’t think it was going to stop. Fisting her good hand in the soft material of his shirt, she anchored herself before the momentum picked her up and flung her into oblivion. “Violet, thanks for coming.”

A woman rushed up the stairs behind them, one of the most beautiful women Tamsyn had ever seen. Snow dusted her dark hair, the shoulders of her long jacket, and she left a trail of it on the carpet from her boots. “What the hell? Who is she? Where did she come from?”

“Don’t ask me.”

Tamsyn hadn’t heard a voice like that before. Even though there was urgency behind the questions, the voice was like liquid molasses. It stroked over her, comforting in a way she hadn’t felt since her mother died when she was just a kid.

Merrick waited until the woman caught up, then set off again, his long legs eating ground effortlessly. “Found her in the damn cupboard downstairs. Jonah was having a meltdown after one of the su—” He broke off, glancing down at Tamsyn. “One of the ladies left an unsavory stain on a stool. I offered to go get the cleaning stuff, almost missed her. Did miss her,” he corrected with a shake of his head. “Went back for a second look, and there she was, wedged behind the goddamn shelving unit.”

The woman was keeping pace with him easily. “She has to be a guest. Security would’ve picked her up if she was simply wandering. What did she say?”

Merrick scowled. “Nothing. Either she’s too scared to talk or too fucking cold. Can’t get a word out of her, but she’s not in the best physical condition. Did you see Linnie on your way over?”

A low, soft laugh. “Can’t see much of anything out there, the snow is falling pretty heavy. Luckily, the path lights are still visible. Here, let me get the door.”

The warmer light of the hallway turned brighter, starker, as Merrick carried her into a room. It gleamed on white walls and glass-fronted cabinets, stainless steel appliances and sterile counters.

Despite the warmth of the room, Tamsyn felt herself growing impossibly colder. Her body went rigid, turning stiff and unyielding with silent resistance. She’d been in a room like this before, several times over the years, and she knew what happened once the door closed.

She feverishly searched the room for the man she hated more than anything, half expecting the community doctor to spring out and capture her, forcing her down onto the table as he wrestled the straps over her.

It was always the same—arms, legs, hips, chest.

She didn’t want to be in here.

“Easy, little owl. I’m going to set you down, okay? Violet will help you out of these damp clothes, then we’ll get you wrapped up until Linnie arrives to check you over.”

Wrapped up was too close to strapped up.

Merrick released her legs, trying to get her to stand. When she refused, he made a soothing noise in his throat and sat her on the table instead; she whined and gave her best attempt to crawl into him, clutching at his shirt with her good hand and burrowing into him.

“Huh, this doesn’t bode well, does it?” he murmured. “Vi, can you throw a blanket over the table?”

“I don’t think that’s going to make a difference. She’s terrified.”

“I know, I know. Fuck, she needs to get out of these clothes.” Shifting from side to side, he rocked her, still making those calming noises. “All right, here’s the deal, little owl. The clothes need to come off, there’s no way around it. I can step out, let Violet help you if that makes it easier.”

She shook her head.

He sighed. “Want me to hold you while Violet—”

No. She wanted out of this room, as far away as possible. Her skin was crawling with memories, nausea rising up her throat. She wished her voice would work so she could tell him, beg him, to take her away.

“Sorry, I got turned around in the snow. Grit said we had an emergency?” Another woman hurried in, yanking her jacket off and tossing it aside as she kicked the door closed behind her. “He gave me a brief rundown. Not a guest?”

“Morning, Linnie. No, not a guest.” Merrick relaxed slightly. “We don’t have a name or know… anything really, aside from she’s beaten up and scared. She really hates being in here.”

Linnie turned, sliding on a pair of glasses. She frowned, pretty blue eyes taking in the situation. “Uh-huh, that’s understandable. Why don’t you put her on the table, Merrick, and I’ll take a look at the damage.”

“Don’t think she’s gonna let me do that.”

“Oh. All right, let me do a quick exam as she is, then we’ll figure something out.” She approached slowly, holding her hands up. “Hey there. My name is Linnie, I’m a doctor. I just want to check your eyes and your blood pressure, is that okay?”

Tamsyn buried her face into Merrick’s shoulder.

“She’s got a broken wrist,” he said quietly. “Some nasty cuts.”

“Nothing we can’t handle,” Linnie said cheerfully. She pressed her fingers to Tamsyn’s throat, finding where her blood pulsed beneath the skin. “Okay, I don’t see the need to stress her out. Give me a second.”

Trembling, Tamsyn clung to Merrick like a lifeline. She heard the doctor rummaging through a drawer, the click of a cupboard door opening and closing. Maybe if she tried to beam her thoughts directly into his head, he’d pick up the silent messages she was trying to send him.

Please take me out of here.

Don’t leave me here.

Take me somewhere safe.

“I can’t sedate her until I know it’s safe to do so. This is just a muscle relaxant, it’ll take the edge off her anxiety and give her a chance to rest.”

She jerked her head up at the word sedate. She knew what that meant, and it wasn’t happening. She wasn’t going to be helpless and unconscious, held hostage at someone else’s mercy. Even as she reared back, pushing against Merrick’s chest, something stung her butt.

“All done. Set her down when you’re ready, Merrick.”

Tamsyn grabbed the collar of his shirt, fisting it tightly, her eyes boring into his with a silent, screaming plea for help. Her eyelids grew heavier, drooping until they were barely open. All resistance faded, going as limp as her body.

She whimpered quietly as her fingers went lax, losing her grip.

“There we go,” he murmured. “That’s better, darlin’. No need to be scared.”

Why couldn’t he see she was scared? Was he as blind as the men she’d left behind, or one of their ilk, taking pleasure in pinning a woman down and terrifying her?

She tried to roll as he laid her down on the table, but the only things working were her heart and lungs. Everything else was just floppy and useless; whatever they’d given her, it reduced her skeleton to mush, her muscles to water.

“Merrick, stay close to her head so she can see you while she’s still awake. You don’t have her consent to undress her,” Linnie said quietly, “and you’re not her Dom. Just keep her calm. Violet, are you willing to get your hands dirty?”

“Point me where you need me.”

“Everything off from the waist down. I need to cut off the top layers.”

Tamsyn stared into worried green eyes, wanting to cry. She felt hands pulling off the scraps of leather that were her boots, the frayed remnants of her socks. Pain stung her feet, air kissing burst blisters that had rubbed and rubbed until the cold numbed them.

She made a panicked noise in her throat when Violet carefully wrangled her ruined pants down; Merrick placed his hands gently on either side of her face, his thumbs stroking her jaw. “Shush, little owl. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Linnie knows her job.” He didn’t break eye contact even when Violet cursed in that liquid molasses voice. “Close your eyes, darlin’. I’m gonna be right here, my hands exactly where they are, while you sleep. Can you do that for me?”

“Ease back a little, Merrick.” Linnie leaned over, her glasses perched on the end of her nose, then flashed the beam of a penlight in Tamsyn’s eyes, blinding her. “Yeah, she’s okay to sleep. We’ll have to wake you every couple hours, just to be safe.”

Sleeping wasn’t safe. Not here.

No matter how heavy her eyelids were, how soothing the stroke of Merrick’s thumbs were, she refused to let down her guard. She needed to be awake, alert, ready for danger to strike. She was in her own personal nightmare with no way out.

The snip-snip-snip of scissors cutting through cloth made her feel sick. They were stripping her of her last defenses one by one. What were they going to do when she was naked?

She blinked slowly, once… twice…

*