Chapter 9 #3
Guilt tugged at him as he took her in, standing in his bedroom with wilted posture and betrayal in her eyes. “You poor thing,” he whispered.
Giving her plenty of time to retreat, he lowered his hands to her shoulders. When she still didn’t move, he pushed just hard enough that she let herself fall to his mattress like a marionette with cut strings.
She straightened herself as he went to his nightstand to take out his rum.
Her eyes were watchful and her fingers were white where she was gripping the dark sheets, as if she were ready to propel herself from the bed.
A virgin sacrifice waiting out the altar.
She looked at the rum bottle in his hands with suspicion and more than a hint of judgment.
“Sometimes I can’t sleep,” he offered.
“Do you dream?”
It was an odd question. “If I do,” he said, “I don’t remember.”
He took out a few pocket squares that he kept on hand to wear with some of his more formal attire. “It’s going to hurt,” he warned her, with a glance over his shoulder.
“I don’t care if it hurts.”
He felt his mouth shift into a muted half-smile. “I’m pleased to hear that.”
Someone had definitely dressed some of her wounds already.
Apart from the bandage at her throat, it looked like some of the deeper cuts and scrapes had already been cleaned and treated.
Cal turned his attention to her arm and began to dab at the ones that were still bleeding, probably from the rocks or the splintered wooden boards.
She tried to yank back and he tightened his grip, keeping her arm where he wanted as the pocket square began to turn pink.
“Blood doesn’t bother you?” she asked, averting her eyes.
“No. Not at all.”
“You must see a lot of it, doing what you do,” she said nervously.
The way she side-stepped the subject of his hunting didn’t escape him. Some women got off on his prowess—they wanted to hear how many creatures he’d killed, so they could imagine him in the throes of exertion, sweat on his back, blood on his hands.
“Yes.” He watched her suck in and wince as he attended to a particularly deep cut, remembering the tenderness in her eyes as she tended to that broken sparrow in the square. “That’s true.”
“Someone hurt me,” she babbled. “I can’t stand blood. The sight of it. The smell of it. But it was all I could smell in the dark. I thought I was going to die.”
“I know.” He wiped away a bead of alcohol from her skin. “I’m sorry.”
“News travels fast,” she said bitterly.
“Everything moves fast around here—time, man, beast.” His eyes went to the tapestry, with its frozen depiction of a hunt. “You’ll get used to it.”
“I thought small towns were supposed to be notoriously slow-paced.”
Cal breathed out a humorless laugh. “Not this one.”
She looked out at his open window with a troubled expression. “What—” she cut herself off, shaking her head before starting again, “what do you hunt for out there in the woods?”
“Deer and rabbits, mostly. Lots of small birds.” He got to a nasty-looking gash in her wrist that made her pull away again. His grip tightened automatically, like a trap, and more tears trailed down her cheeks, cutting ghostly paths through the soot.
“Why kill the birds? The songbirds and the sparrows—what do they give you?”
“They’re small and fast and hard to catch.
” He released her hand to examine the other, which had a messy slice across the palm.
“It takes skill to catch something that frightened and determined to get away. You have to be gentle, ruthless . . . patient. And in that first burst of silence after the gun goes off, there’s this heady moment of anticipation—did I get what I came here for? ”
“So you’re a thrill-seeker.”
“No,” he said, with a slight, hollow-sounding laugh. “I hedge my bets. Plato said that the measure of a man is what he does with his power. And I’m very reluctant to part with what I have.”
“A tyrant, then,” she said, the words like a stake in his heart.
“Not here.” He released her wrist. “My father is king of this castle—and my brother will follow after him. But enough about me. When was the last time you let someone take care of you?”
“I—I don’t—” She broke eye contact with a toss of her head, which made her wince. “My aunt takes care of me. And my sister—did. We all take care of each other? Why are you asking me that?” Her eyes turned accusatory. “Why aren’t you asking me what happened in the mine?”
“Oh, is that where you were? I did wonder. Fine then. What happened in the mine?”
“Are you sure you don’t know?” She looked him over, trying to match him to the man in the shadows. His mouth, in particular, seemed to hold his attention. “Since you know everything.”
“I’m a lawyer.” He smiled. “Not a psychic.”
“And you’re always mocking me.”
“I’d do other things if you let me.” Cal slid from the chair in an easy, sinuous movement that made her twitch to her feet with an agility that belied her docile appearance.
Grinning, he pushed back against her thighs, tipping her over at her center of balance to send her sprawling back against his bed. Before she could get to her feet, he gripped her by the ankle, studying the skin exposed by her capri pants. There were fewer scratches here, to his relief.
Nadine leaned over to watch him suspiciously. Her hair spilled forward with the movement and her blouse gaped, giving him an unfettered glimpse of cleavage and lace.
“Do you like me on my knees?” he asked casually.
“Cal.” She sounded scandalized.
He ran his thumb along her ankle, following the tendon down to the upper part of her heel. “I think about it sometimes,” he confessed, before letting his hand fall away. “Getting on my knees for you. I like to imagine the look on your face.”
“Don’t,” she said, but there was a catch in it.
Like she was imagining it, too.
“You shouldn’t go to the mines again.” He pushed his hair out of his eyes, and when he did so, his bare arm grazed the denim-covered bend of her knee. “I’m sure the sheriff told you that. But in this instance, he happens to be right.”
“So you did know about it.”
“Rael told me, yes. He tells me everything. We’re close.”
“But he shouldn’t,” she shot back. “His dad’s a cop.”
“That’s the way it’s always been here, Nadine. Old alliances forged in blood.” A bit of despair snaked into his voice, which he tried to mask with light-hearted mockery. “It’s endearing, the way you see beyond that, but it doesn’t change the way things are.”
That wall came up behind her face again.
“I didn’t fall off the back of a truck, you know.
” Gripping her neck, her fingers bit into the bandage.
“I’m not completely na?ve. Someone left me a note.
That’s why I went down to the mine. They told me they had information, and that I should go to meet them there. ”
Cal set the rum on his nightstand, knowing he would likely return to it later. “And you obeyed? That seems a little na?ve to me.”
“Why do you care?” She slid her legs past him to hoist herself ungracefully to her feet. “I thought you weren’t king of this castle.”
“Is that what you want? Because if you’re looking for someone landed, then I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong brother, little sparrow. Ben—now, he plays for keeps. I’m only looking for a little catch and release.”
“You’re one to talk.” Nadine leaned back against the thick post of his tester bed, looking up at him with folded arms. “You’ve done nothing but screw with me since I came here. Why should I listen to you? Why should I trust you? It’s so obvious you only want one thing.”
“And what thing is that?” he demanded. “Do you think I killed your sister? And now, what? I want to kill you? You think maybe—I want to fuck you before you die?” He met her horrified gaze, and in those clear grey depths, he saw the distorted mirror of the hideous truth of himself and how she would react to it.
“Or perhaps, wait until after? A pretty corpse to play with?”
“No,” she said. “Stop.”
Cal began to pace the room while she stood there, frozen, looking at him like the monster from her dreams. Which he was, though she wasn’t yet aware.
“You know, when I first saw you, I thought you looked tragic. A sad-eyed martyr, bound for the pyre. But there’s something bright in your eyes when you talk about your sister.
Or when you talk back to me. And it’s completely unselfconscious. ”
When he turned in an abrupt volte-face, she was still standing in the same spot, rooted to the floor. He took her by the arms, tugging her away from the bed.
“Tenacity, I think it might be. Or a strange, incurious passion bound up in years and years of diligent restraint. But whatever it is, it’s frozen under glass.
Hot and bright, but very much untouchable.
You never answered my question, Nadine. When was the last time someone took care of you?
And by that, I don’t mean a few tender touches and a pat on the hand like your aunt gives you, no.
I want to know if anyone ever threw you down and fucked you like they were trying to strike a match, until that frozen flame I see in your eyes melted away along with that stubborn will, and all you could say was yes and please. ”
The sound she made had his fingers biting into her flesh tighter, nearly to the point of pain.
They were standing close enough that her chest grazed the still-damp fabric of his shirt with every breath, and what had felt like a baptism now felt like more like damnation with every point of contact between them sending heated ripples of sensation across his body that burned like fire.
She had backed from him before, in the parlor, but she was not backing from him now, and he was getting very tired of letting her run when every subtle tilt of her head shaded into an invitation that opened into yet another locked door.
“I—I’d like to go back to my room now.”
“No,” he said softly. “I think I’ll have my answer first.”
Nadine pulled at her arms, her fear doubling when she realized he had her pinned and she could not break his hold. “Stop it. Stop it, Cal. Let me go! I don’t owe you anything.”
“Don’t you? Because I do. I think you owe me plenty. I don’t think you have any idea what you’ve—” forced me to do, he almost said.
But no, she hadn’t, had she? That was all him.
Cal let go and she stumbled from him in surprise, arms barring over her chest once more. Sighing harshly, he pushed his hair from his face. No. No, he couldn’t take her now. Not like this. She might go along with him in her desperation, but then she would never forgive him.
“I suggest you leave,” he said eventually, every word heavy as lead as it fell into the silence.
He touched the post she had vacated, wrapping his hand around the carved wood.
It creaked ominously in his powerful grip.
“But that is a suggestion—and one you are free to disregard, as long as you understand that I won’t let you go again. ”
Nadine hesitated, her body angled towards the door but her feet pointed at him.
She was trying to look brave, his sparrow, but there was indecision written plainly on her face and he knew, suddenly, with a keen awareness that shot through him like a bolt, that she would come to him.
That she wanted to come to him. That he could, indeed, have her now, if he wanted.
If he cajoled.
If he took.
His fingers whitened.
“Go,” he said harshly.
Whatever battle she saw in his face propelled her into movement. He watched her leave, walking fast—but not too fast—her hair bouncing a little with each hard step.
Cal closed his eyes and heard the door next to his click shut.
But though he waited for the second click, she did not engage the lock.