T. Grey - Tempting Whispers

“What is it?”

She pictured him taking a golf swing. Maybe it was because he was so tall, or built, or that he looked like he belonged in metal armor with a lance and horse, but she busted out laughing at the image. He gave her a look that said her laughter clearly made him unhappy, then took her empty plate with a snap of his wrist and washed it. By time he finished, she had the laughter down to a soft chuckle.

“God that felt good. I haven’t laughed like that in...a long time.”

“Okay, now you talk. I want all of it.” Brayden leaned against the dark granite countertops and crossed his arms.

Vanessa couldn’t keep her eyes from tracing the hard muscles in his forearms, the sable dusting of hair across his tanned skin, or the way his biceps flexed and tightened when he stood like that. A flutter of pleasure swept through her body, making her breasts ache, but only for a flash of a second. Then the desire faded. She wasn’t stupid; she knew sex didn’t always have to be as it had been for her. She knew it could be good, maybe even beautiful or emotional.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” His hard voice cut into her thoughts like a hatchet.

Her lips twitched, caught between wanting to speak the truth and being afraid to. Her eyes met his, and again, that safe, comforting feeling came over her like a warm blanket. These weren’t the eyes of someone who hated her, who’d hurt her. These were the eyes of a real man, a protector. He’d proven that to her before.

Her voice calm and low, replied, “I was looking at you like that, because I was thinking of what it would be like to make love with someone and it would actually feel good.”

His face flew through a flurry of expressions before settling on stoic. “What?”

The old her poked her head up and she grinned. “Do you want me to say it again, Brayden?”

His eyes closed, and he shook his head. “No, no. Just talk, will you?”

She did. She told him about her father coming to get her from Vane’s two years ago and how she was mated off to Joseph Harrington within the next month. So much for her pleas and cries to her father. He’d ignored her. After all, it was ‘best for the pack.’ It didn’t matter that she’d wanted to go to college to study nursing. She’d had her eyes lined up in the medical field for a long time. She wanted to help people, and maybe she could even become a pack healer, but with some updated modes of treatment. So many packs like the Kategans’ still used old medicine. And not that those practices didn’t work, but they weren’t as efficient as modern-day medicine. She’d wanted to explore that, be the first to bring better medical practices to her pack. But no, no. What was more important, at least, according to her father, was combining the packs for more land. Everyone could have bigger houses, more space, yadda yadda.

Brayden listened to her story without interrupting, unless to ask her to clarify some details. However, when she got to the part of the forced marriage—the forced marital sex—an entirely frightening look came over him. She even surprised herself at how easily the words came. She had a feeling that if she were having this same conversation with Vane or any of the other Kategans, she wouldn’t be able to get the words out. But, Brayden wasn’t family; he was just a man, and maybe one who could help her.

She trembled beneath his glare, remembering a time when she’d seen that look before. When she’d been naked and frightened, kidnapped by Claude Phelan’s clan members. They’d almost raped her then, had torn her clothes off her body and laughed at her, freely groping and touching how they wanted while on the run. She’d thought that had been bad...until she wed Joseph.

The look on Brayden’s face was the look he’d had after he’d killed her kidnappers with his bare hands. His eyes were widened a hair, more alert, and inside they were cold with frighteningly controlled anger. His top lip was pulled up into something close to a snarl and his hands had dropped to his sides and curled into fists so tight no air could pass through them.

Vanessa stood slowly, feeling like she was approaching an animal about to tear fang and claw through any and everything in its path—even her.

“Brayden...” She put one foot in front of the other, slowly making her way toward him. His eyes never met hers. They stayed trained on the far wall, unseeing but locked in that cold angry haze. Her every muscle vibrated with tension; ready to bolt, dive, or duck, in case he made a move toward her. She stopped a few feet away from him and started to raise a hand to touch him before she let it drop back down, her own fear not letting her go through with it. So she tried again. “Brayden, are you okay?”

He blinked; his head shook once. Then his eyes landed on hers, the cold frigidity melting as he looked at her until his gray eyes relaxed, almost warmed. “Sorry; I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

He just looked at her, then shook his head once. “Nothing important. So, you want a divorce.”

“More than anything,” she said with a sigh. She never wanted to go back to that man. She’d sooner take her life then let that bastard lay a finger on her, or a fist, rather. He made her feel weak; and with him, she had no control of her life. A bitter taste filled her mouth. She’d never had control over her own life. Not since her mom left.

“He’s not going sit idly by, either. I’m property to him.”

His eyes flicked down her body for a mere second, then returned to her eyes, his brows pinching forward. “I see. You can’t get a divorce without his signature on those divorce papers. I’ll need to talk to him.”

“What?” The room spun in a sharp circle. The floor dipped out from beneath her feet so fast, she couldn’t be sure she didn’t fall down.

“I’ll arrange a meeting with him. I’ll act as Justicar and see if we can come to an arrangement.”

She laughed a sick, hoarse sound. “He won’t come to any arrangement. He wants me back in his house, obeying his every command. He won’t agree.” She could feel it. His hands on her breasts, squeezing and touching her. Her stomach convulsed; the yummy meal she’d eaten turning into something vile.

Brayden frowned. “Then what’s your plan, Vanessa? Work at the coffee shop and keep on the run forever? How can you support yourself? If he finds you, and he very well might, what will you do then? Where will you go?”

Tears threatened to escape her eyes. He voiced all the same questions and fears she’d had since she escaped nearly a month ago. Once again, she felt like a stupid teenaged girl standing before the handsome vampire with shaking fists. “I’ll think of something. I’ll do whatever it takes.” She thought of the pocketknife in her satchel upstairs and knew she’d use it on him. He would not touch her again.

“It’s not like you can return to Vane’s place, either. He can’t lawfully keep you there, even if he wanted to. That’s probably the first place Joseph will look.”

She angrily swiped at a runaway tear. She hadn’t thought about that. God, he could be there right now and then everyone is going to be worried about her, and she couldn’t call and tell them she was fine. They’ll push to learn where she is and she might just give in. She couldn’t do it.

“You can help me,” she said.

Brayden paced the length of the kitchen before turning back to face her. Lines appeared around his eyes, his jaw looking harder, clenched. An almost frightening look was in his eyes.

“I have a job to do. I made a promise to Vane and Sarina---”

“About me?”

He paced again. “What? No, it has nothing to do with you.”

Somehow, that made her feel deflated like a flat tire. “Of course, it doesn’t.”