Chapter 18
Black Knights Inc.
Consciousness returned slowly, like sunlight creeping over the horizon.
Sabrina liked sunrises. But she didn’t like this.
She wanted to stay in the cool and dark. In the dreamless void where there was no thought, no pain, no cruel reality.
She tried to hang on to the oblivion. Tried to will her mind back to nothingness and her body back to numbness. But the more she struggled to stay asleep, the more wakefulness tugged at her.
Sound was the first thing to return…the low, slow rhythm of someone’s breaths.
Sensation came next…the smooth, cool sheets beneath her fingers, the faint stitch at the bend of her elbow.
Her nose twitched at the scent of her favorite laundry detergent, clean linen and crushed lavender.
And then she smelled something richer, something that reminded her of earth and woods and safety and man.
Hew.
Her lids were heavy, but she forced them open.
The golden glow of the lamp on her dresser spilled dim light across the room, showing her all her favorite things.
There was the bedspread she’d ordered from Etsy.
There were the books she’d borrowed from Hew sitting next to the ones she’d picked up from the secondhand bookstore after she regained her freedom.
There was the man who’d made it all possible because he’d been the shoulder she leaned on and the ear she spilled all her grief and trauma into when her whole world had been turned upside down.
He was still in his flight gear. Black tactical pants. Fitted black thermal shirt that stretched tight across his wide chest. Combat boots that had seen better days.
He looked…lethal.
He was lethal, she supposed. But he rarely looked lethal. At least, not to her.
Because he was her Hew. Her quiet, gentle, generous Hew.
When he was teasing her or talking to her or tenderly brushing away her tears, it was hard to remember that he was also a trained killer. A man who dropped bombs and pulled triggers and bested bad guys.
He’d dragged beside her bed the armchair she usually kept shoved in the corner. And somehow, he’d curled his massive frame into the thing.
His big arms were folded across his chest. His long legs were stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle. His head was tilted back into the corner so that his Adam’s apple bulged in the tan column of his throat.
There was that hollow at the base of his neck. That vulnerable dip in a body that was otherwise hard and honed.
It had fascinated her from the start. And after she’d begun to heal, she’d spent her days fantasizing about flicking her tongue into it and her nights dreaming of what it would be like to taste his tough skin right there.
He was asleep.
But only just.
She’d learned from all her nights curled against his back that, even at rest, he remained vigilant. The tiniest sound could pull him straight into action. The slightest movement had him lifting his head and asking, “Everything okay?”
Something about that, about the thought of him never fully resting, made her throat tighten.
She could have gone on watching him forever.
Memorizing the exact shape of the whorl of dark hair over his forehead, the inky shadow his thick lashes cast on his high cheekbones, and just how plump his lips looked when his mouth was relaxed.
But her gaze was drawn across her room to the tall, leaded glass windows and the muted, golden light pressing against them.
Daytime? She blinked in confusion. How long have I been sleeping?
The chopper ride to the private airport east of the city was a blur. She remembered choking back tears at Hew’s thoughtfulness when he handed her the plushie. She remembered being hustled into a dark car for the ride back to BKI. And, to her chagrin, she remembered losing it.
When Hew had slid into the back seat beside her, throwing an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close, all the spunk and spirit that had kept her going for the last day had deserted her.
Silent, hiccupping sobs had wracked her chest and burned her lungs.
And no matter how hard she’d tried, she couldn’t stop them.
He had whispered comforting words that had blended and blurred together in her brain as they mixed with snippets of conversation from the front seat.
“—dangerously dehydrated. Call Ozzie and make sure—”
“What are we gonna do with—”
“—get some damn answers about—”
She remembered the car nosing out of the Bat Cave—the tunnel dug beneath the Chicago River that was BKI’s secret entrance. And she remembered the concern on the faces of the people around her as she attempted to smile and reassure everyone she was all right.
She vaguely remembered being helped up the stairs and coaxed into bed as Peanut purred and curled into her side. And there was a fuzzy memory of Hew bending over her before…
Oblivion. That sweet, dark, dreamless void.
When she shifted slightly now, Peanut blinked at her with sleepy yellow eyes. Then, having determined he’d done his duty by her, he yawned, stretched, and hopped off the bed with a solid-sounding thud.
No doubt going in search of breakfast, she thought fondly.
She went to stretch, but stopped when she saw the tube snaking up from the crook of her arm. She followed it to its source. A clear plastic IV bag hung from her headboard.
It was nearly empty, explaining the urgency building in her bladder.
“You’re awake.” Hew’s voice was rusty from disuse. But his green eyes were as sharp as ever when her gaze darted to his face.
“How long was I out?” Her eyes flicked again to the window. The light flooding in was brighter now.
He checked his watch. “Nearly seven hours.”
“Seven.” She blinked. “Did y’all give me something?”
“With the level of dehydration you were suffering, disorientation and extreme fatigue are normal. We didn’t need to give ya anything. You went out like a light as soon as your head hit the pillow.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, big hands dangling in the void between them. “Didn’t know if we were goin’ to have to haul ya to the ER.” He pointed to the IV bag. “That’s your third one. Your poor body’s been soakin’ it up like a sponge.”
“Well that would explain why my bladder’s about to burst.” She grimaced. “How do I—?” She waved vaguely at the needle and the tubing.
“Here.” With careful, practiced hands, he peeled the tape free, withdrew the needle, and pressed a cotton swab to her arm.
Then…poof…a Band-Aid miraculously appeared from the first aid kit on her nightstand. Hew pasted it over the injection site.
“You’re a deft hand at that,” she murmured, only slightly surprised. He was a man of many talents.
He winked and reiterated her thoughts. “Just one of my many talents.”
A few months ago, she might have thought he was flirting. Now? She knew better.
“Thank you.” Her throat went tight. “Thank you for coming for me. I was so afraid y’all would walk right into her trap and—” She blinked as a hundred questions bloomed to life inside her brain.
“Wait. How did you avoid her trap? Did someone tell you what she was planning? Did you know that she was hired—”
“Hey.” He stopped her flood of words and worry. “Take a beat. Take a breath. We’re okay. You’re okay. And we have all the time in the world to talk about what happened.”
Her relief at being back at BKI with everyone safe and sound mixed with the remnants of her fear to have a sob bursting from the back of her throat. It shocked her with its suddenness.
In an instant, Hew was there. Pulling her against the solid wall of his chest.
No questions. No hesitation. Just him offering her everything she needed while silent tears fell and her soul emptied out the last of the terror she’d carried since the black van rear-ended her and sent her careening off the side of that country road.
“It’s over now,” he murmured against the top of her head. “You’re safe. You’re home.”
Home.
Such a simple word. Just four little letters and one little syllable. But its meaning was immense.
Home was a windy exhale after a long-held breath.
It was where she could shut away the world, and no one would ask her to be anything but herself.
It was the familiar creak of door hinges.
The light pooling in certain corners at sunset.
The scent of strong coffee and old paperbacks and fresh-baked pastries.
It was where her name sounded right, even when spoken in a whisper. Where silence didn’t feel like absence but acceptance.
And she’d never truly had any of that until BKI. Until Hew.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as gratitude swelled inside her. It took over all the space horror had left behind.
Hew…
With his tender heart and lopsided half-smiles and love of books, with his courage and loyalty and steadfastness, he had become her sanctuary. Her shelter.
And she wanted him.
All of him.
She wanted his quiet words and his unpredictable wit. His silly jokes and his soft silences. His heat and his hardness. His warm breath and his firm lips. His calloused hands and his hot—
Blame it on her recent near-death experience. Blame it on the lasting effects of the drug her abductors had given her. Hell, blame it on the long months she’d gone without knowing the feel of a man inside her.
Or blame it on me, she thought as she inhaled deeply, sucking his scent all the way down into her toes before…
She did it.
The thing she’d been dreaming of doing since the moment she reclaimed the part of herself Eddy Torres had taken. She opened her mouth over the hot skin of his neck, over the pulse that beat strong and steady, and flicked out her tongue to taste him.
Hot and dark. Sweet and savory. The flavor of him hit her tongue with the eye-crossing joy of melted sugar.
The hand that had been smoothing her hair stilled. But his heart raced against the tip of her tongue. And the low growl at the back of his throat seemed to reverberate in the achy spot between her legs, making her keenly aware of its emptiness.