Brave (7 page)

“
Fuucckk
!”

My
cry was hoarse, the pleasure so intense made me go liquid inside as
my orgasm released with a stunning backlash of pleasure that went on
and on. A shudder racked me, my hips rocking against her with a
rough, frantic motion.

I
knew it was a terrible mistake, a terrible miscalculation on my part.
My body throbbing with the pleasure she’d given me, I felt as
if everything had exploded into chaos, all the work I’d done to
make myself numb, she’d destroyed it in a few moments.
Pulsating life slammed through me, and in that moment I realized,
dear
god, I was alive. So alive.

Suddenly
her cries touched off something. Things got hazy, and the world
shifted into that sick sensation I knew way too well. There were
noises that I didn’t want to hear, and I tried to cover my
ears, but they weren’t silenced. I turned my head, and Elsa’s
eyes stared at me, pleading with me. But I was chained. I couldn’t
move. I couldn’t get to her.

“No!”
I shouted, and in my delusion, I knocked Alissa to the floor. It was
as if the flashback overlaid my eyes and I saw two different
realities. I scrambled off the couch, but it felt like the hard
ground to me. In my haste, I hit my head on the coffee table, but it
was a rifle that connected to my temple. Stinging agony rolled
through me. My raw back stung with open wounds from the torture I’d
received only hours before. The wind caused spikes of pain through my
ruined shirt.

“Elsa!
Fuck, no! Stop it you bastards! Leave her alone!”

I
pulled and pulled, my wrist a bloody mess, but the chain held me. I
wanted to kill them with my bare hands, and it shattered my sense of
who I was, the pieces jagged and sharp stabbing through everything I
was.

The
chain broke and I lunged forward. The man with the scar was my world.
My only focus. I hit him like a battering ram, knocking him to his
back. My hands went around his throat and squeezed.

I
snapped out of the flashback, panting on my hands and knees, the
smooth wood floor beneath my palms instead of that bastard’s
throat.

I
turned to look at Alissa, and her eyes were wide with compassion, her
hand over her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears.

“This
is why you’re here. Why you’ve isolated yourself out here
in the wilderness. Something terrible happened to you, and you can’t
control the memories,” she said.

I
shut down. Everything she had just awakened went numb, and my heart
squeezed over the loss of that bright and beautiful everything. I
couldn’t tolerate her pity, and her compassion cut me.

I
shoved up off the floor and fled out of the living room and out the
back door, slamming it behind me. The cold bit into my overheated
skin. Skin that Alissa had just touched and made me totally
understand that I wasn’t dead. Not dead like I thought. What
did that mean? What could I do?

A
cruel wind blew and I looked for it. Drew closer to the dark abyss as
my demons laughed and danced and urged me on.

I
took a step. I was tired, exhausted, broken and bleeding out inside.
There was nothing left. Nothing. I looked at the cliff again, thought
of hurling myself off it, knew my stomach would drop in the free fall
to my real death. The snow was still coming down. I was so damned
tired.

Then
her eyes flashed in my mind, the beauty of her smile, the smell of
her, and the feel of her hands on my skin. Taking care of her and her
ankle had rekindled that need in me to help, to do the job I’d
studied so hard to master, to find myself somewhere among the
scattered pieces. But she’d been wrong. Dead wrong. I hadn’t
come to isolate myself. I hadn’t come to heal. I hadn’t
come to work things out. I’d come here to die like I should
have died on the Ivory Coast of Africa. But why hadn’t I done
it? What was holding me back? If I did it the pain and guilt would
finally, finally be gone.

Cold
air blew across my wet jeans and shame burned in me for my inability
to even hold on to my own convictions. I hadn’t come in my
jeans like that since I was a teenager. But it had been so long, and
I wanted her too much.

The
slow slide of moisture from my temple slipped down the side of my
cheek and I ignored it, and the throbbing.

I
took a step forward and I heard the door open behind me. “Dakota.”

I
didn’t turn around.

“
Dakota.
”

She
pulled me backwards, her voice like a siren, tantalizing, promising
such riches, if only I would accept, drawing me back from the edge
while my demons howled their fury.

I
turned and she offered her hand to me. It was a simple gesture. But I
felt paralyzed until I met the summer blue of her eyes. And in the
cold, damp night, with my anguish raw, her warmth infused me. But I
still couldn’t move. She kept her earnest gaze on me, her lips
parted a little, and I wanted to kiss her even now. Her breathtaking
eyes, so solemn, full of compassion. I felt a gushing rush, a surge
of protectiveness and resentment. Why didn’t she just let me
go?

She
didn’t know anything about the way I was, or the dangerous
state I was in—trapped in a maelstrom of anger and terror and
lust. But her bravery in the face of my breakdown and erratic
behavior warranted at least some kind of response. I raised my hand,
reached out, and she moved to clasp it.

She
dragged me into the house and to my room and into the bathroom. I
just stood there like an idiot. She left me, and I wanted to sink
down and disappear.

She
came back with fresh clothes, turned on the shower. With a soft sigh,
she wet a washcloth and gently wiped the blood off my face.

She
brushed her fingertips against my jaw to get my attention. “Dakota.
Take a warm shower. I brought some clean clothes. Then we’ll
have dinner. I’m sure you’ll make something wonderful.
Okay?”

I
stirred and looked down at her. She was a miracle I wanted to
deserve. “Thank you,” I said softly and she left, closing
the door behind her.

I
got in the shower, letting the warm water relax everything, heat my
skin, release that hard ball of pain in the pit of my stomach. Some
of what I had experienced with Alissa came pouring back, and it hurt
like blood rushing back to a numb limb.

I
wanted that. I wanted her. I didn’t know how to find myself to
give to her. I couldn’t see how to put myself back to the way I
was before the blood, before the death, before failure and the
breaking of my vow.

She’d
loosened something inside me by giving me all that she had given me,
being so open and trusting. Her compassion made me wonder, made a
tiny bit of hope grow in me. It was so, so fragile.

Covering
my eyes, I sank down and cupped my face with both of my hands, my
hope and despair mingling with the blood from my gash and the warm
water from the shower.

#

When
I came out to the kitchen, she rose from the table. Our eyes met and
she smiled. “You look better. Are you better?” she said
it quietly, without a trace of pity or condescension. Then she
frowned and limped over to me. “You’re still bleeding.
Sit down. Where is your amazing case?”

“Over
there.”

She
made her way to it, bent over, and rummaged around inside. Finding
what she wanted, she limped back to me.

“Is
it okay to touch you?”

I
closed my eyes and nodded. I couldn’t think of anything in this
world that I wanted more.

Her
fingers were warm as she stroked my temple, brushing away my damp
hair. I kept my eyes closed so I could focus on every nuance of her
closeness. It was hard not to stiffen up. I was so rusty at this. The
long day had taken a pretty big toll, and I was dead on my feet, so I
felt the panic more than I showed.

I
sensed her move and couldn’t stop the faint groan I made when
she placed her mouth against my temple. The kiss was gentle, almost
sweet, and I felt my heart catch a little when she wove her fingers
into my hair and held my head to apply the bandage.

“I
could have done that myself, you know,” I said.

“You
could probably slay dragons bareback. But, I wanted to do it for you.
You’re so tired. Emotionally ragged, as would be expected of
someone who had gone through what you’ve gone through.”

“Alissa…”

“It’s
my turn to help you. Let me, please.”

Those
words sounded so good like an answered prayer. I hadn’t ever
sought help. After I had been rescued, the nightmares and the
flashbacks had driven me out of my home to this place that had become
my prison.

“Thank
you for what you did on the deck,” I said. “What happened
in the living room…I’m…I’m sorry for that.”

“Actually,
I’m sorry I woke you up, but I’m not sorry that I kissed
you like that. I’m not sorry I touched you. I’m not sorry
about what happened. I’ve never known passion like that,
Dakota. Never. I’ve never felt more alive than I have here in
this cabin with you. The way you look at me…I can’t
describe it. It’s so…real. So, I hope the hell you’re
talking about the flashback and not what we shared.”

“That
should have been a mistake.”

“But,
it wasn’t.”

“You
don’t even know me.”

“That’s
not true. I know you carve beautifully, part of my fascination with
your hands. I know that you’d risk your life to save a total
stranger on the edge of a cliff. I know that a woman’s tears
affect you so profoundly that you’d risk your life again. This
time for a silly backpack, without even asking what meaning it has,
only knowing that it has meaning. And, I know that you are a
wonderful healer, with a sometimes-grumpy bedside manner.” She
took a deep breath. “And, I know that you are an amazing
kisser.”

I
turned to look at her and she smiled at me. Maybe I didn’t have
to find all the pieces. Maybe she was rebuilding me with her delicate
hands, reshaping me, finding the heart of me within all that
shattered mess. Giving it back to me, uncovering the beat and
strength I once knew. It was like she was bringing me back to life.
Giving me the courage to live again instead of this cold, numb limbo
I’d wrapped myself in for six months. Dared I hope that much?
My heart contracted. With this woman in my life, I
could
slay dragons. Could I find the courage to do that? Could I seek help
from a professional? Get my life back?

Ending
my life. That was the coward’s way out, and admitting that to
myself was a wakeup call that I did need help. Seeking it, going
home. Those would be tough things to do, but finally telling someone
about what happened? That would be the hardest part of all.

When
I didn’t respond, she cupped my face and kissed me softly. I
couldn’t remain still with her mouth on mine. I kissed her back
with all the emotion I had swirling in my chest.

“See?”
she said. “Amazing.” She pulled out one of the chairs and
sat down facing me. “Have you talked to anyone about what
happened to you?”

I
shook my head. “Never. I just ran away.”

“Why?”

“I
don’t know. It’s too awful to talk about. Maybe I wasn’t
ready.”

“Do
you think you’re ready now?”

“Maybe.”

Her
face grew really serious. “I know what it’s like to be
lost like that, Dakota. There was a very dark time in my life when I
took an ugly path because of my isolation.” She reached out and
snagged my wrist and turned it over. “So many scars,” she
whispered as she traced the rough skin there. “What happened
here?”

“I
was chained with a metal cuff to the ground. I tried to get free more
than once and it shredded my wrist.”

She
closed her eyes. “Oh, God,” she said with anguish. “Oh,
God.”

I
curled my fingers over her hand and squeezed, her compassion closing
some of those open and bleeding wounds inside, starting the mending
process.

She
looked at me, her eyes brimming with deep sympathy. We sat there in
silence until she released me. She forced a smile and said, “So.
What are we having for dinner?”

I
stared into those warm, reassuring eyes of hers. My world had
changed, tilted and shifted to some new alignment. Alissa must have
had mysterious, unlimited cosmic power, to accomplish in two days
what I had been unable to even begin in six months. It should have
scared me more, her power, but it didn’t. I wanted far more
than I could give at the moment, so I took a deep breath, and,
miraculously, I was able to smile back at her. She grounded me. I got
up and went to the fridge. “You’ll just have to see.”

“You’re
such a tease.” She sat down at the table. “So, why are
there no decorations?”

“Is
the question and answer period open again?”

“It
is, Mr. Smarty-pants. It’s going to be Christmas, like, in
three days. Doesn’t your family have decorations? Oh, my God.
Don’t tell me. You’re the Grinch. You don’t look
very green.”

I
knew what she was doing and the distraction really helped. “
I’m
not the Grinch. That’s my evil twin.”

“Would
that make you the Grouch?”

“Humbug!”

“Scrooge?
Is that you?”

I
laughed. She was ridiculous. “No, I just didn’t have any
Christmas spirit before you came.”

“But
now you’ve changed your mind?”

“I
have. There are decorations in the attic. I’ll get them down
for you.”

She
watched me with admiring eyes and it made me feel powerful. Like I
could make a difference in not only my own life but in hers. With
that thought, I suddenly yearned to be back at work again.

“Are
you going to help me? I want to make it festive. I’ve never had
the chance to do that.”

“I’ll
help you.” Anything to make her happy, to see those expressive
eyes lit with pleasure. I tried not to think about how she looked
straddling me, her rapt expression, and the fact that Alissa was also
an amazing kisser.