Chapter 2
2
MARI
I thrashed against the twin logs of pure muscle hefting me over the forest floor while for the second time in my life, a giant of a man kidnapped me. This time, my giant had kind forest-green eyes and spoke in riddles my mind couldn’t untangle, though it did protest that I needed to run and run and run.
Dregs of adrenaline coursed through my body, though my hands shook against his back. The hit diluted my fear until I exhausted my supply, leaving me useless and filthy, unable to protect myself from whatever came at me next.
Not that I’d been able to protect myself in the first place, reduced to a fleeing mess the moment he dumped me onto the forest floor. My brain still screamed at me to run, but my body crashed against its fresh imprisonment.
Wanting to believe that warmth equated with safety, though I knew better.
My new mountain man walked for long minutes through a snow-laden forest I barely saw, his stride blurring into an unmeasurable time, my body torn between memory and reality. Pins and needles assaulted my toes as he rubbed feeling back into my limbs that twitched about on their own with renewed circulation.
I supposed I should be thankful, but instead I added the pain to my current catalog of bodily hurts that overwhelmed every sense while I tried to match my reality with my past and came up with a whole lot of confusion I couldn’t unravel.
And so I hung across his shoulder, my body giving pitiful jerks in the arms of the giant who carried me, too-late reactions to a trauma no longer fresh.
The behemoth ignored my feeble efforts to wriggle free as though I were no more than a flea on a mangy dog’s back. A horrendously strong and wild dog. I noted the beauty of both my captor and our surroundings in a disconnect. Beneath his jacket, my skin numbed, but instead of running cold, I blazed as with an injection of anesthetic, sweltering against his rough shirt.
All dark hair and soul-deep eyes that seared through me when he’d halted my flight through the forest. Now I hung over his shoulder, filthy and damaged, though cleanliness landed last on my list of concerns. He had stripped my identity away, baring me to the world as less than nothing.
Then, when I was at my barest, the man who carried me took my name. One of the few secrets I managed to keep to myself throughout my assault.
I gave that away too. Freely to the man who stood like one of the trees in his forest and refused to shift when I crashed into his solid form. Because surely this place belonged to him.
Rage broke through the fear steeping within me. I scratched at a hard lump on my arm and came away with bloodied fingers. Perhaps a splinter from my dash through the forest. I hadn’t cared about what happened to my skin during the deep-seated need to run .
Something broke inside me as my mouth ran free in a delayed reaction to everything. I cussed my new captor endlessly, uncaring of the outcome. What could hurt worse than when those hands had ripped me out from inside myself? But it was more than that. No matter what I told myself, this nameless, wild man felt safe. And so I unwound my fears, my horror in a place where I instinctively knew that he wouldn’t hurt me more.
Before, my mind and body froze when the multitude of hands touched me, leaving their marks on my skin while I screamed in the silent confines of my mind. Now, those same words exploded from me in a delayed burst. The dual effort drained me faster than the manic energy that came on, leaving my breath ragged.
“You fucking monster, you stole me . Ripped me away. Let me go —” Breath lodged in my throat while a quiet voice in the back of my mind whispered, It’s not him . But my mouth didn’t care, the words tumbling forth without censure, seeking freedom. “Get your filthy hands off me! Don’t touch me, you bastards,” I sobbed as my rage dissipated, only to flare a moment later.
If he helped me after this, it would be into an early grave, albeit a well-deserved one.
Survival and freedom wisped by my outstretched fingers. I craved both like a starved woman, filling my lungs with an alien air, and wished I never left England in the first place.
It’ll be an adventure. A learning curve.
My parents’ disapproving scowls floated past the blurred forest that scrolled by my periphery with every heavy, though not ungraceful, footfall.
A learning curve. What a joke.
Joke’s on me.
What had to have been hours of running for my life gave me plenty of fresh injuries. At surface level, the forest had scraped me bloody. On the inside, unwanted hands had flayed me raw. My single source of warmth and security came from the mountain of a man who carried but hadn’t hurt me.
Yet.
“It’s okay to scream, Mari. It’s fine. You’ll be okay. Promise.” His voice came out rough, as though he wasn’t used to speaking so much, though his words didn’t strain with anger or fury.
I expected a mountain man not to have anyone to talk to, but apparently this one did. The trees, perhaps.
Words abandoned me after that, and I waited for the blows to come. Relief shot through me when he patted the soles of my feet in a comforting gesture as I slumped over his shoulder. A few soft murmurs, a simple touch, and he removed me from the panicked headspace.
Too easy.
My frazzled brain turned that one over and came up with a disturbing conclusion I craved and hated all at once. The reason I felt safe in verbally abusing him was because I wasn’t afraid of him abusing me .
The odd things my brain noticed that I hid from myself in a bout of self-sabotage, ranting in broken rasps that I myself struggled to understand, let alone should expect him to figure out.
Attraction. Safety.
Trust.
My world tipped from one extreme to another, and I wondered if Gideon had pumped my bloodstream full of some exotic hallucinogen while I found myself… distracted.
The fear flowed again.
Hands reaching, sliding, grabbing.
Pinching and plucking and pulling.
Spread apart, wrists pulling and raw, fingers touching ? —
The scream built inside my throat, but it wasn’t an incomprehensible sound that burst free.
“I don’t want to be touched, you fucking prick,” I seethed. My heart thrashed inside my chest, willing my newfound voice to die a quick and silent death.
“Foul-mouthed little thing, aren’t you?” my mountain commented, patting my jacket-covered rump in a familiar gesture. “Is this the usual you, or is it traumatized you?”
When I couldn’t answer, my words run through again, he sighed, shifting my weight to sling me across his chest instead of over his broad shoulder like so many potatoes in a half-empty sack. I stared into the underside of his mahogany beard, able to see little except the tips of thick eyelashes utterly wasted in the wilds.
I shook my head at his unanswerable question, barely able to recognize who I’d been, let alone who I was now. My frozen toes curled beneath me, under his forearm tucked beneath my thighs, to contact his torso, eliciting a soft puff of air. A masochistic smile curled my lips. If I hurt, my brain claimed that it stood to reason that he should too. How broken I’d become in the short space of scant hours. Had it been a day since my world imploded on itself? I closed my eyes, waiting for bile to rise as my stomach attempted to empty itself over his forearm.
But it didn’t.
Thank God, because everything hurt.
Fingers groping, tongues ?—
My stomach did rise this time, bringing with it the bitter edge of acid that teased the back of my throat. I clenched the urge away with effort, removing my ability to speak.
The internal argument rioting inside my mind insisted I never wanted anyone to touch me ever again. So why did this mountainous lump of muscle with his hands around me seem safe? After the abuse I’d suffered at my boss’s—and his friends’ —hands, I shouldn’t be comfortable with anyone, let alone this mountain god, manhandling me. Yet I allowed Mr. Everest to hoist me into his arms when my legs refused to support the weight of my shame.
Maybe allowed stretched the point a touch too far.
I sank against Everest’s hard chest, my cheek grazing rough cotton scented with man-sweat and the sharp tang of pine. I breathed in the scents of home and safety and laughed at myself inside my head. I’d clearly lost it, but I went on cataloging all the comforting features that made him real to my mind. His steady heartbeat became my rhythm. I counted each thump, matching my breath to his footsteps until they dropped into sync with every graceful movement.
Hands pressed to my sides, tearing at clothing, then skin. When they had reduced every part of me to shreds, they tainted my soul.
A raspy shriek battered against compressed lips I refused to open. Fear became my fuel, and I possessed an abundant store.
Sleep was no longer an option.
Despite no new adversary announcing themselves, I huddled within the protection of my mountain man’s jacket as he halted. I craned around him, my body rubbing against the obscene amount of muscle he possessed. I swore he could be the twin of the giant pines that guarded the forest.
A soft huff that might have been a laugh brushed my cheeks. He turned so I could see the circle of ancient trees that surrounded us. In the center of the clearing sat a rustic log hut that looked like it had risen out of a Wild West story from the 1800s.
“Did you—” build it yourself, I started to say, but the rest refused to come out, my tongue exhausted after my tirade.
He seemed to catch my meaning and nodded.
The cabin had an air of strict neatness, as though the occupant couldn’t abide any change to its exterior surface. A narrow wraparound veranda was its sole decoration, the boards bare and clean, lacking in personality or furniture. The windows were empty. No spiderwebs clung to its corners; no leaves tumbled across its clean-swept exterior.
The structure appeared as welcoming as an abandoned hospital wing.
Through it all, Everest stared down at me. A small, possessive smile lifted his beard at one side. Or maybe I imagined his kindness and he would become my new tormentor after all.
My insides frosted at the concept, though my heart took up a faster rhythm than when he’d been walking. When I tried to speak, my brain played ball, and real words fell out.
A tortured whisper worked its way past my lips. “Where are we?” I peered past his beard, ignoring the aches that vexed every abused muscle.
A strong jawline and high cheekbones were emphasized by a full head of tousled hair shot through with dark chocolate strands that highlighted their reddish neighbors. Trimmed neatly at the edges, it was longer on top and swept into a messy knot.
Something darker—harder—lay beneath his expression, as if this man had seen horrors and stored them within himself when others would run screaming. Deep laugh lines were etched around a wide mouth visible through his beard, though I couldn’t imagine his smile. Moss green eyes surveyed me with a tinge of impatience masked by concern—and something else. Determination.
Or possessiveness.
That flicker of obsession rippled over me again, the expression one I recognized from my boss’s face.
They’re not the same. They’re not the same ?—
I’d spent a few minutes at most in this man’s arms. A kind temperament didn’t redefine a lifetime of delusion. He might be the sweetest man I had ever met, or the flip side of the monster I’d fled. Perhaps he was the proud owner of one of the pairs of unknown, disembodied hands.
Though my mind denied the thought, a shiver worked its way along my spine.
His eyes flared, filled with awareness. “My home.” My giant shifted but didn’t release me.
The world rotated in a slow fashion that did nothing whatsoever for my nauseated stomach. Sensing my discomfort, Everest hauled me flat against his chest. I leaned into him, burrowing deeper as the urge to puke on him passed, then squeaked as my legs dangled well above the ground. My bare, scraped feet struggled for purchase against his pants’ tough material.
I lifted both knees to wrap around his waist, but the immediate intimacy overrode my need for freedom. Fighting a closing sensation in my chest, I let him press my body to his as he lowered me to the forest floor in a controlled drop.
Cold pockets of damp pine mulch compressed between my toes as his jacket drew up, leaving my bruised rear hanging out for all and sundry to see. Lucky for me, there didn’t seem to be anyone else around. I yanked at the heavy material, preserving any scrap of dignity I still possessed.
Like I deserve dignity.
Perhaps my ego perceived that thought as a joke. A brutal one at best, and I’d missed the punchline. Or maybe the punchline was me.
A soft sound drew my attention upward. My giant stared down at me, too close, though he didn’t shrink my world. Maybe the world shrank for him instead. His breath brushed my cheeks as he busied himself with wrapping my arms around my body to hold the makeshift barrier in place.
Calloused fingertips paused over my cheek and slid through my hair, avoiding snares by some miracle. A gentle touch for such a giant of a man. Everest caught a rogue strand that tickled my nose, tugged it lightly, and tucked it behind my ear. His unexpected, tender touch left me shivering.
The flash of possession that returned to those forest-green eyes said that this man would kill anyone who touched me without my permission.
And my stupid, broken mind liked it.
My stolen moment of peace lasted until the door to his hut swung open. Three strapping young men bursting with bulk stepped out onto the veranda dressed in an assortment of checked shirts and jeans, their outfits consistent as a uniform. A second giant, who dwarfed the man clutching my frozen form, followed the newcomers. Blond hair tumbled over bare shoulders. He reached obscenely thick arms above his head to grip raw-cut exposed beams that doubled his bulk. He looked capable of pulling the entire thing down on his own.
I tugged at the hem of Everest’s jacket, wriggling closer to hide, but there was nowhere to go. The soft rumble that vibrated against my ear offered a second shock. He was capable of laughter? A smile crept up my face in reply, the expression both alien and forgiving in one. Then I remembered why I stood before him naked and bruised, and the muscles that strained to hold up my good humor died as I cowered into myself.
To my horror, fresh tears welled, prepared to join the filthy tracks already coating my face with God knew what.
“So, British, huh? Work visa?” Everest nudged the top of my head with his chin.
I shook my head, willing him to let me hide between his bulk and his jacket. “That was one of the threats,” I mumbled, debris and sweat tumbling into my mouth. His body stiffened, perhaps imperceptible outwardly, but given our proximity, I experienced every one of his reactions as they were presented. “Stripping me of my documents. Taking away my identity if I didn’t… comply.”
“I’d send you home, but who would want you?”
Certainly not the overly religious parents already on the verge of disowning me for leaving my small hometown to visit the land of sin. I laughed off their backward notions at the time, but now….
“No one will take you back.”
“You’re so much more beautiful when you’re ruined.”
Bile coated the inside of my throat as my boss’s voice echoed around my mind, trapped in the confines where his torturous words played on repeat.
My legs trembled. Pressing my weight forward, I stole a little more of the support Everest offered, sucking his warmth into my tainted bones. He nudged me with such a tender grace that I gave in and raised glistening eyes to meet his fathomless gaze. The soul of a mountain god disturbed by a mere mortal stared back. Understanding flooded his face, something akin to awe tinged with regret. He moved sinuously for a man his size, his body twisting, his bulk threatening to consume me.
My reflexes long dulled, I became a voyeur unable to fight off the pending attack as he engulfed me in a protective embrace. Salt streamed into my mouth, bringing with it all the accumulated grit and filth from my short burst through the forest. From before . I pressed my lips into a tight line, caught in his bottomless gaze that held knowledge of too many dark things.
Broken, ruined, I fell into his silent offer of safety and never wanted to leave.
I need to go home, but home won’t want me anymore.
Which left me a begging orphan beyond her depth.
“Easy, Mari.” Everest kept his hold light but firm, clearly expecting the deranged animal in his arms to bolt at the slightest hint of danger. Freeing one hand to tuck my head into his shoulder, he called out to the men behind us.
I ignored his muted words, matching my breaths to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The regular motion calmed me, the panic that nibbled at the frayed edges of my sanity ebbing.
Enclosing my hand in his, Everest pressed his lips to my temple. His touch offered a simple comfort, a brush of skin that barely equated to a kiss, but the sweet caress gave me a moment’s extra warmth, a contrast to the grabbing?—
NO .
Unaware of my roiling internal conflict, my mountain man marched forward, towing me alongside him. A roar consumed my overstimulated mind. The edges of my vision filled with dark spikes curving inward. Hands jostled me, shifting me from person to person. I tried for logic and failed. My mind took me back to that place, pulled and tugged in every direction.
Everest’s face entered my narrowing vision, my anchor to a world I feared. Concern edged into his verdelite eyes. I made out my name on his arched lips before the world dropped out from beneath me.
This time when the darkness fell, the nightmarish creatures stayed away.