Chapter 6
6
MARI
My hands trembled as I clutched the glass of golden ambrosia, all too aware of Robe’s possessive hold on my hip. His fingers sketched tiny circles over my borrowed clothing as he held me against him in an embrace both sweet and protective. It surprised me how well I fit against his bulk without the fear of disappearing altogether.
His enormous presence matched his personality, and neither overwhelmed me.
I should have been intimidated or terrified by the men who surrounded me in Robe’s cabin. There was nothing normal about how my brain should have reacted while my world turned upside down and I clung on like a passenger on a weird sidecar ride. Perhaps I’d become more like Alice than I thought—or Dorothy. A mashup. Bring on the blue caterpillar. An inopportune giggle escaped me that I managed to muffle in his thick cotton shirt.
Robe traced roughened knuckles along my cheek in a firm, strong touch I didn’t hate.
Better the demon you know, right?
My demons populated the outside of the house. From what I’d gleaned, Robe’s cabin offered a hell of a greater safety than my previous destination would have. I grasped the lifeline he offered with both hands, existing in survival mode, still burning energy at high speed. Each blink created a disjointed freeze-frame of snapshots rather than a scrolling memory.
What should have been running about in my mind was my future: the need to return to my apartment, call my friends back in the UK even though they seemed to have forgotten me the moment I left after graduation. Even message Mum and Dad. Had they tried to call? Did anyone know I was missing? How long would it be?—
A sob caught in my throat, the answer already forming in my head. I hadn’t spoken to my parents in the initial three months I’d been in the US post-graduation when I garnered my first career job, and since I came to New York, the trend hadn’t changed much. Their opinion of my travels was made clear when, the moment I set foot outside the house, the door was slammed and locked behind me.
Caught in Robe’s embrace and knowing the public face of the demons outside the barrier he and his woods formed around me, I declined the intrusive concept with my most polite British Piss off, you bastards .
Robe’s arm flexed behind me as he drew me deeper into him in an almost imperceptible movement. I didn’t fight his touch and had no desire to escape the haven he offered, different from the hands that?—
Touched, plucked, pulled ? —
No.
I refused to let those psychotic assholes steal my peace now that I had discovered something else I craved. Something healing. Something more.
I am not broken.
I refused to be broken.
I will enjoy physical contact with another human again.
My new mantra. Especially huge protectors like Everest. But a reasonable, whole person wouldn’t crave contact or find safety in the home of a wild man after what I endured.
Why am I so broken?
Tears pricked my eyelids. I dipped my head, squeezing my lashes tight to ward off the pity party raging inside my mind.
You won’t win. I won’t let you.
I made the promise to my foe—my boss, the person I trusted when I first came to this country—over and over. A baker’s dozen of panicked breaths later, I found myself pressed flush to Robe’s side. Chatter rose around me. I ignored it all, his presence providing the peace to block out white noise.
Familiar eyes met mine and held. Something wild, almost manic, flitted there. Robe didn’t hide his demons like I suspected Alan did beneath a facade of smiles and misdirection. No, Robe chose to wear his trauma raw on the outside, like so much armor against a world he had retreated from. The ridge suited him in this way, both barren, bare rock the elements blasted against, but still they held firm. The shadows within his eyes spoke of scars I was sure lingered beneath his beard and shirt. He’d built his body up, either to physically battle what he had to face or out of necessity to survive in his own way.
I wondered what my own crutch would be when my brain freed up enough to allow my numbness to fade.
Robe held his silence as he wound his arms tighter around me, offering a physical barrier from the overcrowded room, and rested his chin on the top of my head. Roughened fingers tangled in my hair as he crushed me against his chest.
Warmth pervaded me, wrapping me in Robe’s fresh forest-and-woodfire scent. My Everest. I marveled at the steady beat in my chest that matched his heart’s solid pounding against my cheek as I leaned into his embrace, taking the security his arms offered.
Leave. Run from the wolf.
Was he a wolf, though? I felt far less Little Red Riding Hood and more a Grimms’ fairy tale where the heroine fell in with a group of uncouth men rife with faults who always ruined the day.
I snorted a little into his shirt, torn between aiming for a second bout of hysterics or settling on a keening whuffle noise.
Spoiler alert: the whuffle won out.
All broken here.
No one ever returned from those sorts of tall tales, or if they did, they weren’t the same. Not the sort of story that suited me. I loved my urban life in New York City, so different from the one I fled my home country to avoid. The cult-escapee girl turned the CEO’s PA, or something like that.
An all-male scent surrounded me, another grounding point of difference. No expensive perfumes worth a month’s pay filled the cabin’s living area with a posy of allergens. If Robe owned a single bottle of cologne, I’d eat my knickers. Not that I had any; they were left behind in my rushed exodus, along with all my other things.
I lost my phone, and I left my car parked out front of my boss’s house. I might as well have called it my independence. Right now, I owned nothing at all: not pride in my body, the ability to call for help or to drive away to a home. All I could claim was a cabin full of men I barely knew and a half-empty cup of whiskey.
Somehow, for now… that was enough.
I chanced a peek around Robe’s massive chest, peering through the open doorway that the blond Viking— Jon —exited through earlier.
Their personal battles scared me. Robe offered me a slice of peace, and I’d take it in a heartbeat, needy creature that I’d become after the horrors I ran from. But the risk of ruining what they had, the community that had continued its existence in his cabin even in my scant days here, listening to their muted conversations, the occasional raised voices through Robe’s heavy, closed door…. Well, half of me wanted to stay wrapped in his arms no matter the cost.
The other half of me, the part that had fueled my headlong sprint through the mountainside, screamed a different message.
—run and run and run ?—
Knickers were the least of my worries.
Run, run, fast as you can. Can you catch me, Mr. Mountain Man?
The niggle itched at my brain again. My old English professor bitched about alliteration overuse inside my head. But no matter how many times I said the words to myself, my feet refused to let me leave Robe’s side.
I swallowed an onset of panic, locked in my own private hell. Serene on the outside, clawing and shrieking on the inside.
Like when he stopped me in the forest.
Help me.
More than broken, definitely. My jaw locked. I couldn’t get the words out that would provide relief from my invisible cage. He stood right there, holding me, and I couldn’t communicate what I needed.
Useless as a newborn, I forced my senses to revolve around him. The rhythmic beat of his heart fast became my benchmark, what I returned to when panic delved deep and took root. The hard ridges of muscle surrounded me in a warm, safe embrace. I didn’t want to leave his arms or escape his cabin.
I wanted out of me .
Crisp mountain air and smoke that had nothing to do with a woodfire slipped through my firewall. I tapped my fingers on the tree-trunk biceps that surrounded me, lightly at first, then more insistently as I tried to bring myself back to the present.
Robe sent a single glance my way, and his features shifted from the facade of civilization he kept up for the men opposite us to something far more primal. He read the panic I couldn’t communicate in any other way as I hit max capacity, my deafening silence my last line of defense as I shuddered with the aftereffects of delayed terror.
Everest released me, cursing beneath his breath as Alan set something on fire in the kitchen. He scooped an arm around my waist and leaned me against the bar like I weighed no more than a Mari-sized doll.
Long steps ate the floorboards beneath him, and then he swept one arm beneath the counter, collecting an overstuffed white paper bag. In a fraction of a second, he upended a pyramid of salt over the small inferno Alan had managed to ignite in a frypan.
Robe stood beside the lithe dancer, his arms folded over his chest. When I expected him to glower at Alan or dress him down, he surprised me by ruffling the younger man’s hair. Footsteps and chatter filled the silence as men clattered up the veranda stairs to the cabin. Three faces peered in at me, two in open curiosity and one in poorly shielded hostility.
My safety net flung wide on the other side of the bar, I stared back, panic reigniting.
—fight flight fight ? —
But no enemy appeared for me to fight, and I had no way to escape. The bodies jammed in the doorway who were barring my lone escape route with their combined physical mass saw to that.
All of the men were the same level of dirty, each of them bound in muscle. Henry Cavill, eat your heart out. Their physiques were clearly sculpted by hard labor, not the sort built for show so common in the city. Even beneath weather-worn jackets, their combined bulk was impossible to hide.
Did Robe have a secret fighting ring buried beneath the house? A little private damage club of his own? I half expected Tyler Durden to stride inside the cabin and start mouthing off at the absurd tableau.
Cue the White Rabbit in three, two….
The men fit tight within the confines of the handmade walls, as it turned out. On any regular day, I might have been amused at their size. A low-level angst simmered to boiling point between the men as they all crowded the room, each additional body stealing precious space and air. Robe and Alan seemed to be okay with the constricted oxygen, while I backed up against the bar’s edge.
Jon offered an apologetic smile and grabbed a beer from the fridge. A stocky young man sporting a buzz cut and a permanent scowl stormed through the house. His footsteps cracked whip sharp as he headed into another part of the house I hadn’t discovered yet.
Will, the other young man Alan pointed out earlier, whose sandy fringe flopped over his eyes, watched me with enthusiasm, his cheeks reddening as he checked me out with no hint of apology. His easy, coasting gaze should have been creepy or unnerving, but his open face took the edge away from his assessment. Nor did he approach me with hands outstretched and grabbing?—
I pressed back harder into the bar. The unforgiving border prodded between my shoulder blades as air evacuated from my lungs.
Robe used up the rest of the available oxygen to address Will, jerking his chin at the younger man with the soul-filled eyes. “Grab some firewood? We’re going to need it when night closes in.”
It struck me that the men should have been bantering with each other the way Alan and Robe did in their odd way. My presence silenced every single man inside the cabin’s tight walls, changing their dynamic until they all teetered on edge, pretending a normality none of us felt.
Their combined judgment weighed heavily over my poor attempt at camouflage. I grasped at nothingness, my mouth open to say—something—but then I didn’t need to. Warmth replaced the cold at my back.
I shivered at the abrupt temperature change as Robe shifted. Broad hands clasped my waist in a firm grip. His touch steadied me, let me breathe. I sucked in a fortifying breath as he slid into place at my back. His heart beat a faster tempo than before but then faded to its regular rhythm, taking my breath with it.
“You’re super speedy,” I murmured, sliding my fingers around the tumbler of whiskey Alan pushed back into my hand. I sent him a grateful, if weak, smile.
Dexterous and fast—Everest encompassed all the qualities a mountain man was supposed to possess. In any other place, he might be an oversized curiosity, but Robe Huntingdon’s presence prevented me from screaming myself hoarse every breathing minute. Even in my panicked state, I knew that tearing back down the mountain with an icy night coming on was a bloody stupid idea.
“I try,” Robe murmured, sliding his hand around my stomach and pressing me back to his huge frame.
Even more than his physical form, his sheer presence threatened to engulf me. At the same time, a protective bubble formed around us. Blocking out the rest of the room, Robe dulled the renewed conversation to a blur between my ears.
If I let him whisk me deeper into the mountains, would Mari Merripen cease to exist altogether? A fanciful notion at worst, but my body chose a different reaction to his touch. A jolt of desire shot through me, hot and electric. Submerged in my daydream, I choked on my whiskey. Arousal in my state shouldn’t be possible.
Heat pooled between my thighs as he spread his fingers over my waist, pinning me to him in a gentle but unbreakable hold. Tiny shocks writhed through my system as I reveled in the ability to feel.
Gideon broke more than my body when he let his friends abuse me. A frigid shiver replaced Robe’s warmth in the cold oblivion of denial. Yet I was attempting to play house with a group of men I didn’t know, struggling to understand my motivations.
There was no way around that not-to-insignificant fact. I didn’t know them at all, and I needed to go home. I had work—well, I used to have a job—friends… a family I spoke to solely on special occasions. Should a missing person’s alert go on my wish list? I snorted into my glass. That was akin to an innocent teen who knew nothing about the world asking, Will you cry at my funeral?
What a morbid creature. My transformation was complete in the wilderness with no one but mountain men to witness my metamorphosis. But I couldn’t go back—not to my apartment in NYC or work. Even the coffee shop between the two where I used to get my morning brew. Gideon knew all those places. And I’d seen faces—knew his face. Surely that meant home wasn’t safe—nor was my workplace. All the familiar haunts were now off-limits, which left me nowhere to hide except to stay in place, right in Robe’s path.
I knew this man could break me without a single word, just as he could heal me. But I couldn’t bring myself to ask.
“What is it?” Robe asked, turning me in his arms as if by instinct.
My glass thudded onto the bar behind me, the dregs of golden liquor sloshing around the cut crystal base. Heat hit me on both sides. I twisted my head back to look up at Jon. The giant’s hand hovered over my shoulder, concern transforming his dark eyes to liquid amber.
His warmth seared my body. Once again, rather than the connection attacking my senses in an invasive touch, I accepted it, leaned into him. I nodded once, and his fingers grazed my skin. A broad palm cupped my shoulder in a gentle squeeze.
“Mari.” Despite his proximity, Robe’s voice hit me from a distance too far away for clarity for my drifting mind.
“Robe?”
I turned my attention back to find him on one knee. He reached out to cup my face between broad, work-roughened palms as he looked at me. A nonthreatening position. My mind still functioned on some level.
“Come back to me,” he murmured.
Behind me, Jon whispered his agreement, both hands sliding to my waist. Steadying, offering enough pressure to ground me.
Mad and unexpected, the dual contact worked.
I am safe here. These aren’t the same men who took from me.
Not even close. Gideon’s friends exuded their own brand of evil, and nothing in this world could make me face that again. Fool him once, maybe. My escape at his hands was the single reason my heart beat on. Fool him twice? Not possible.
Gideon took pleasure in watching others suffer, grandstanding for his moment of leniency when they begged for his mercy. I never gave him that moment, and I knew he hated me for it.
Robe’s breath brushed my lips, warm and welcome. Safe . My eyes drifted shut, and I wondered if he would kiss me. Would I welcome the pressure of another’s lips on mine again, or would I fear my soul could be stolen in a quick breath, leaving me an empty husk?
I will not be broken.
Too late.
“I’m here,” I whispered.
His breath huffed against my cheeks. “Then open your eyes, sweetheart. We’re not the monsters of those nightmares you face. Not in here, anyway.”
Smiling at the image of this incredible group of men as monsters, I opened my eyes.
Robe assessed me with his fathomless gaze, and my stomach dropped at the uncloaked need written there. He reined in whatever was reflected on my face, reduced to something wary, protective.
The loss of his emotion hit me keenly. Part of me wanted to see his desire reinstated, but then I shook my head. “You’re right. The monsters are out there.”
The shivers returned despite the fact that I was sandwiched between two large bodies that brought my safety back in a mere breath. I glanced over my shoulder at Jon, releasing the bars of my new cage that had nothing to do with iron braces and frayed ropes.
Or shadows and glittering eyes and roaming hands.
The expression in Jon’s eyes reflected Robe’s concern, though a smothered, unvoiced need was displayed there too. My stomach flip-flopped. The tethers that wound themselves around me were scented with pine needles and soap and, most importantly, were of my own choosing.
Who knew soap would be something I’d crave.
Robe’s eyes darkened with the sort of fixated obsession I understood could be so dangerous. “Do you want to stay, Mari Merripen? Because if you do, I cannot allow you to leave.”
His words rolled around my head as I stared at him, my heart divided both ways. Yes was the only answer I wanted to give him, but I wasn’t sure which part I agreed to just yet.
Maybe both.
Robe bared his teeth in a brutal smile as his next words contradicted everything I wanted. “Leave whenever you want, Miss Merripen. But I suggest you wait until we’ve organized a safe mode of transport. Running around at night through the forest is… dangerous.”
It was the sort of practiced million-watt smile that made billionaire CEOs a hot-minute trend. All white teeth, dark eyes, not-quite-trimmed beard… swoonworthy.
My stomach flipped as he rose to his full height. “Thank you,” I repeated.
I couldn’t object to Robe’s logic. The forest held its own plethora of threats, and I got the impression that I had taken up residence inside a cabin with five prime specimens the woods had on offer.
“Eat, sweetcheeks. Robe and Jon will let you catch your breath.” Alan walked between the two behemoths and gripped my elbow.
He towed me across the room through the crowded space to a small, round table pushed against one corner. A window overlooked the pine forest beneath the house. I stared out, not realizing how high we’d ascended.
Flashing Alan a grateful smile, I tried to deny the anxiety that threatened to bloom into a full-blown panic attack despite the space I’d craved moments before. The air thinned, my vision graying around the edges. Conversation reached around me but couldn’t touch me. I clenched my fists, and my ragged nails bit into my palms.
A calculated risk that blessedly worked. The sting of bruised skin brought me back. I swallowed gulps of crisp forest air that seemed to follow Robe around until it jammed somewhere between my heart and my head.
Alan pulled out the chair with a flourish, settled me into the leather-covered cushion, and placed a plate of golden-brown waffles on the table. The scent of vanilla and maple indulged my senses. Each sweet treat curled, crispy at the edges. My mouth watered.
“ Buon appetito ,” Alan sang. The epitome of a cruise ship waiter, he sashayed across the room to take up residence in the bar.
Robe caught my eye in an assessing gaze. One eyebrow rose, the manicured one I already loved to hate. He folded his arms and stilled.
I raised my chin and pushed out a thin breath between pursed lips. Anger rose unbidden. That judgy, closed autocratic expression was back. Okay, so it wasn’t just the eyebrow.
I stabbed my waffle, telling myself my appetite had rekindled because Alan put a plate of amazing food in front of me. Not because I swooned for a sexy mountain god who now seemed to think he could stake a claim on my eating habits. Never mind that I sat in his house, wore the clothes he provided, and was washed and clean because of him.
While I did nothing for myself.
The protective way Robe stared at me left me in no doubt that he wouldn’t let anyone else see me in that state. Warmth bloomed in my stomach. Still broken. Holding his gaze, I cut a piece off my waffles and defiantly popped it into my mouth, chewing though my stomach revolted at the thought of swallowing anything. Robe tracked the movement as sweetness and carbs zinged through my overcaffeinated, tortured body that was already riding a whiskey high. I moaned in appreciation, forgetting Robe’s attention, how he fixated on me, the room.
His eyes darkened, black flames wreathed in their depths that promised me I wouldn’t walk away unscathed. I should hide and let the monsters play far away from me, but I wanted to push him, make him reveal every secret, every promise. Part of me needed his brand of darkness to forget my own.
And that was a terrible, dangerous idea.