Maya Banks - Whispers in the Dark

 Her legs shook uncontrollably. She’d barely been able to soap her hair because her hands quaked so violently. Reaction had set in and she was a hot mess.

 Falling apart.

 The horror of the last days hit her like a ton of bricks. She should be jubilant. She should be relieved. She was free. She was safe. Nathan was with her. He’d protect her.

 Instead, tears rolled down her cheeks and her knees threatened to give out. She covered her face and tried to control the sobs that bubbled from her chest.

 Strong arms came around her. The water turned off, and she stood dripping wet and hiccupping as sob after sob es-

 caped.

 Nathan pulled away long enough to wrap a towel around her shaking body and then he lifted her into his arms.

 “It’s okay, baby,” he murmured against her forehead. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

 He set her on the bed then pulled the blanket around her. He kissed her temple. The top of her head. He rained kisses down on her face. Her eyes. Her cheeks.

 She turned her face into his neck and burrowed into his warmth. And his strength.

 For the longest time he merely held her as silent sobs spilled from her chest. He caressed her hair, ran his hand down her blanket-covered body and simply sat in silence while he waited for her to collect herself.

 She loved that he didn’t seem to fall apart at her distress. Or that he didn’t demand to know what was wrong so he could fix it. He acted like he understood.

 When her sobs diminished to soft puffs of air and the shaking ceased, he pulled her carefully away from his body and stared down into her eyes.

 Without a word, without asking permission, he slid the covers down her arms, baring her flesh to his sharp gaze.

 Though there was nothing sexual in his assessment, she was achingly aware that his gaze tracked over her naked body.

 He pulled at the towel, his hands gentle and nonthreatening. He touched every bruise, his expression fierce. His fingers brushed over the cuts and scrapes she’d collected in her flight through the forest.

 The more he discovered, the blacker his expression became. Then he turned her and sucked in his breath at the jagged cut on her thigh.

 He grasped her arms and turned her back to meet the fury in his eyes.

 “What the hell did they do to you, Shea? And don’t tell me nothing.”

 She closed her eyes against the sudden burn of tears. Damn it, she’d only just managed to stop crying and now she was weepy again. A mess. An emotional mess.

 “They wanted me to tell them about Grace,” she choked out. “I refused. You can guess the rest.”

 He cupped her jaw and feathered his thumb across her cheek and then her lips. “Tell me.”

 “They beat me, okay? They held me down and they meted out a very calculated, unemotional beating meant to break me. When that didn’t work, they refused to give me water or food and then they beat me again.”

 Tears streaked down her cheeks. Nathan’s face had whitened. His eyes looked tortured, dark and frightfully cold. His hand shook on her face and he looked very much like she felt.

 “And the cut on your leg? How did you get it?”

 She glanced down and her stomach revolted as the memory of what she’d done came back with startling clarity. Pain snaked down her leg, phantom pain, as if she were enduring the knife slicing her skin all over again.

 “They implanted a tracking device. When I escaped, I knew I had to cut it out so they couldn’t find me so easily.”

 “Son of a bitch!” he cried hoarsely. “My God, Shea.”

 To her shock, his eyes glittered with tears and grief. For her. She swallowed painfully, overcome at the emotion that shone on his face.

 “My God, baby, what you went through. It makes me sick. You’ve already been through so much for me. Why didn’t you call for me before now? I could have helped you. There was no need for you to have gone through any of this. I would have helped you. You have to know that.”

 She turned her face so that her lips brushed over his palm. She cupped her hand over his and kissed the rough skin. Then she trailed her hand up his arm, crossing over the scars that marred the once smooth flesh.

 She touched every one and glanced up at him to see his reaction. He looked sick, like he wanted to pull away from her. She could tell he didn’t want her touching him, drawing attention to the scars that crisscrossed his body. How many more were there that she hadn’t yet seen?

 “You had already endured more than any human should ever endure,” she said softly. “You needed time to heal. To go home and be with your family again. You needed to learn to live again, to want to live. I couldn’t ask you to help me when you needed so much more than I did.”

 He flinched when she put her fingers to the scar on the side of his neck. He tried to turn away, but she levered herself up and cupped her hand over the puckered flesh.

 “Don’t hide from me, Nathan. Don’t hide your scars from me. I more than anyone know how you received them. They aren’t ugly. They’re beautiful. Honorable. Signs of courage and of unflagging determination.”

 He caught her hand and slid it down his neck to his shoulder before holding it there firmly in place. Then he leaned until his forehead touched hers and their lips were tantalizingly close.

 “How is it possible that you’re more beautiful in person than you were as an angel in my mind when I was in that hell. I didn’t think it was possible and yet here you are, so fucking exquisite that I can’t even talk around the damn knot in my throat.”

 He pulled the towel all the way from her body and then laid her gently back on the bed. He touched every bruise and then, to her shock, he put his mouth to one. Then another. He pressed gentle kisses to every hurt, to every ache.

 Chill bumps raced across her skin, puckering her nipples into tight points. Her heart constricted as he moved meticulously down her body, lavishing sweet loving attention on her wounds.

 It was a delicious mixture of arousal and emotional fulfillment. It wasn’t overtly sexual, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t achingly aware of his every touch.

 She’d never felt so cared for in her life.

 “Beautiful. So beautiful,” he whispered. “Mine.”

 She shivered at the quiet vow. His. Yes, she was his. He was hers. That decision had been made the moment she’d first heard his call.

 When he got to the cut on her thigh, he pulled back and hauled the first aid kit from the floor onto the bed. With a touch so light she barely felt it, he cleaned and dressed the wound. After he finished taping the bandage, he lifted her just enough to lay her on the pillows and then he pulled the blankets to cover her naked body.

 He bent down and kissed her forehead. “Get some sleep, Shea. You’re exhausted and you’re going to need your strength.”

 “Where are you going?” she asked fearfully.

 He kissed her again. “I’m not leaving you. I’ll be back. I just need to take care of a few things. We’ll both get some rest and we’ll travel tonight when the chances of you being spotted are fewer.”

NATHAN paced the confines of the motel room, occasionally glancing at the bed where Shea slept. He was about to crawl out of his skin. She lay still, curled into a ball as if she were trying to protect herself even in sleep.

 That was his job now. She was no longer going to go it alone. It pissed him off that she’d been alone for as long as she had.

 He had to think. Shea feared discovery above all else, and she’d absolutely be against him calling in his family. But how could he not? He had no idea what he was facing, and his priority was keeping her safe no matter how he had to do it.

 The logical thing to do would be to call his brothers for help. They couldn’t very well think him crazy now if he produced a real live woman.

 The irrational part of him didn’t want to share Shea with anyone. He wanted her with him. He needed her. He didn’t want to have to deal with intrusions, and his brothers would most certainly be intrusive.

 But he couldn’t do this alone. If it were just him in danger, he’d face it head on and kick some ass. But he didn’t want Shea exposed or hurt in any way. She’d suffered enough, and it was high time someone took care of her like she seemed to take care of the world around her.

 He checked all his weapons, laid a knife on the nightstand beside his Glock. Then he propped a chair underneath the doorknob. Afterward he dragged the small table over to the window so that no one would have clear entry into the room.

 Shea was probably starving. She hadn’t eaten much before when he’d grabbed a sandwich from a convenience store deli. She’d picked at it while they drove. When she woke, he’d make sure she ate better. Then they’d talk about their next move and his desire to call in his brothers. Hell, he’d just put her on the jet and fly back home. How better to protect her than to have her right in the middle of all the Kellys?

 He rubbed his face. But he couldn’t do that to his family. He couldn’t just open them up to an unknown enemy. Nor could he expose Shea and her abilities to so many others, even if he trusted them more than anyone else.

 He’d call Sam. He’d know what to do. Just as soon as he talked it over with Shea. They needed help. She couldn’t dispute that.

 He glanced toward her again, his vision fuzzing with fatigue. There was nothing else for him to do until she woke up, and if he didn’t get any sleep, he wasn’t going to be any good to her.