Page 11

Tabitha

When Grit drove her out to Serenity a week after they arrived back in Denver, she had a feeling something big was coming. Good or bad, she couldn’t tell, but the vibes coming off him were… complicated.

It was how she’d describe her life now, so nothing new there.

After he’d made her come on the jet, his mouth on her, his fingers in undesirable places, she’d been conflicted on several levels. Retreating to dissect and assess those conflictions seemed like the smart thing to do, although Grit probably disagreed.

On one hand, she was relieved they hadn’t gone the whole hog. She’d cut her own tongue out and burn it before admitting his dick was intimidating; he was significantly larger in both length and girth than Dominic, and she’d struggled to take her father despite the fact he fucked her daily, sometimes more than once. The men he’d gifted her to—his friends, potential buyers, business acquaintances—couldn’t hold a candle to Grit, either.

What completely baffled her was that Grit had been hard. She understood the physical anatomy of a penis, how the vascular structure worked, where and how deep she could cut without bleeding out a man prematurely, so it wasn’t why he was hard that confused her; it was why he hadn’t taken the opportunity to use his cock when she’d given him the green light.

Honestly, by the time she came, her mind was so floaty, he could’ve fucked her without any form of protest on her behalf, but he’d just cuddled her, tended to her, as though his balls weren’t turning an increasingly dark shade of blue.

Now she was in a bind, wasn’t she? Every time she thought about Ireland, her heart punished her with a sharp twang of pain. She had a job to finish, a mafia dimwit to put down, and her sense of independence belonged to him.

Maybe if he’d just fuck her as she asked, she could regain it. Sex was all pain and sweat, like fire under her skin. Scorching the earth, so to speak, might be enough to sever her dependence on him.

Was that really what she wanted?

Tabitha glanced down when the man possessing her thoughts linked his fingers through hers. The warmth of his skin, the rasp of his calluses, calmed her the way they always did.

“Heavy thoughts, little tiger. Want me to take some of the weight?”

If she asked, he would. He’d shoulder whatever she couldn’t handle, plus a bit more, without making her feel ashamed or weak. It was who he was; the core of him was forged from sugar and spice, and all things morally nice.

This weight, however, was hers and hers alone to bear. It was her who was fucked up so badly, physical intimacy was akin to the seventh level of hell. Maybe the ninth. Regardless, the problem was hers—and Dominic had spent years training her how to get herself out of problematic situations by any means, fair or foul.

She shrugged. “Not as heavy as you think. Just musing.”

His harrumph was full of disbelief. “Musing doesn’t usually turn your eyebrows into a hard vee, Tabitha, or leech the color from your face. You’ve been withdrawn, far too quiet, since we got back here. Even your day with Callie didn’t cheer you up.”

Tabitha pursed her lips. She liked the woman, she really did. There were a lot of similarities between her and Alicia that gave Tabitha a sense of familiarity. Like coming home, if she had one. “I’ve had a lot to… muse.”

Grit’s eyes were on the road, concentrating on not running their borrowed truck into a tree, but he squeezed her hand gently. “We need to talk about what happened on the jet, Tabby.”

Denial rested on the tip of her tongue, ready to lash out and strike him down. Instead, refusing to let her fear rule her reactions, she adopted a more mature approach and simply changed the subject. “Why are we going to Serenity?”

“A couple reasons. Before we get there, we really do need to talk. More specifically, little tiger, I need you to do the talking.”

Her version of in-depth, meaningful conversation came in the form of carving her emotions into someone with her favorite knife. Somehow, she didn’t think he’d be impressed with that, seeing as he was the only one in the immediate vicinity.

Averting her eyes, she stared out of the window, watching the scenery fly past in a blur. Trees, rocks, the occasional furry heap of roadkill. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Question and answer time, then.” Grit cracked his neck, inhaled slowly. “When we do… intimate things, does it feel like I’m forcing you?”

What the fuck? Shock smacked her in the chest as her head snapped around. The thought he might believe he was making her do sex stuff against her will caused her physical pain. “What? No! Jesus, Grit, I… No, never.”

“Good.” The tension in the truck eased into relief. “Do you feel as though we’re rushing things in the bedroom? We seem to be picking up momentum, stepping from one milestone to another in rapid succession.”

Now she rolled her eyes. “Grit, I practically begged you to fuck me.” Goddamn it, he was going to make her express herself in a way she didn’t know how. “I know this is difficult for you. You didn’t ask for this, for my crazy brain to latch onto you like a stalker, for these psychoses to become part of your life. Honestly, I didn’t think you’d keep me around for this long. Dominic did because he had ulterior motives; to him, I was something that served multiple purposes. A living, breathing experiment. His personal sex toy he could play with whenever he wanted, share with whomever gave him the best bribe. A future broodmare, because let’s face it, that would’ve been my final contribution to his program if I didn’t die in the field.”

“I don’t have any ulterior motives, Tabby. I’ll admit I wasn’t thrilled when you set your sights on me, especially after the shit with Elias. A few days in your company, however, and that changed. There is so much more to you than what they made you become. You deserve the opportunity to reach your own potential, not theirs.”

Tears stung her eyes and were quickly blinked away. “My potential isn’t in the bedroom, Grit; I think I’ve proven that. You are the one man I’ve ever given permission to touch me that way. Everyone else just took and took, stealing pieces of me. With you, it feels like I get some of those pieces back. Maybe it’s because sex is so tangled for me, and fighting so instinctive, but you just keep on being gentle and patient. I’ll never be sane, I’ll never wash the blood off my hands, but I can shore up some of those holes because of you.”

Grit lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “I love you, little tiger.”

If God was real, she wished He’d grant her the ability to dig deep beneath the melting ice around her heart, to hack her way through the decrepit remnants of that vital organ, so she could say those words back to him and mean them.

“I’m not capable of love, Grit.” The remorse in her voice was obvious.

“You are.” Shaking his head, he slid his eyes in her direction. “The limitations you set on yourself have nothing to do with your heart, Tabitha. It’s bigger than you think, warm and giving. It will love if you let it, and I believe you already are—your brothers,” he reminded her when she scoffed. “Jasper, Archie, Alicia. Whether you like it or not, you have family of blood and family of the heart.”

“My brothers are only involved in my life because they pushed their way in,” she muttered sullenly. “Bossy, commanding, dictating assholes.”

“Yet you love them in your own way.” The truck slowed as a trio of moose ambled across the road in front of them. “The only thing limiting your capacity to feel is your head. It learned how to protect itself and your heart because… well, the amount of abuse you took as a child was monstrous. They didn’t rob you of emotion, Tabby; you buried it six feet down so they couldn’t hurt you more than they already were.”

What. The. Fuck? Tabitha stared through the windshield, not seeing the huge moose cow and her two cute calves disappearing into the tree line. She wasn’t seeing anything at all.

It would never cease to shock her how well he saw her. Not just the crazy, not just the shit in her past, but her. The girl she had been, the woman she was now, who she might become in the future.

“I’m not asking for the words back, little tiger. You’ll give them when it’s time. But for me, this is my time. Telling you how I feel isn’t supposed to pressure you or make you feel trapped.” Grit paused, dragging his lip between his teeth. “Evander and Elias offered me a job, Tabitha. A damn good one. Head of security for Serenity.”

That wasn’t a surprise. Ledston wanted the best, could afford it, and Grit’s experience would make him a competent and efficient security chief. “Atticus won’t be pleased.”

“Att’s a smart man. He knows I’m not gonna be able to run missions forever; it’s why he’s got the next generation of mercs in training. The older I get, the higher the risk I get killed on the job. I love the work, the team, but I’m discovering I love something else a whole lot more.” Tapping his fingers on the wheel, he seemed nervous, which wasn’t like him. “One of the reasons we’re going to Serenity today is the future, Tabby. Mine and, God willing, yours.”

Okay, that made her heart stutter. “Mine?”

“Ours, little tiger.”

Holy fuck. Shuffling in her seat, she turned slightly so she could see him better. Was he kidding? No, his expression was deadly serious. He wanted a future with her? Maybe he was the crazy one if he was considering hitching his wagon to hers. Did he not realize her life was the equivalent of a dumpster fire?

“Don’t bother trying to warn me how insane you are; we both know I don’t care. I’ve been in this business for twenty years or more, and you’re the first woman who’s ever made me think about leaving it. Family is important to me, yet I set it aside for a long time because I know the work I’ve done has saved lives and made the world a safer place.” He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I think there’ll be greater satisfaction in helping you do what you do, to be fair.”

Now she choked on her own saliva, coughing violently to clear the obstruction suddenly blocking her airway. When she could breathe without wheezing like an old woman with emphysema, Tabitha wiggled her hand free from his and pressed it against his forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Pretty damn good.”

“Grit, I kill people. Murder them in cold blood. I’m wanted by a dozen government agencies. There’s a judge somewhere just waiting to sign his name on my execution date.” Dying didn’t scare her, but being incarcerated? Locked up in a cell for years? That dried the spit in her mouth to dust. “I have an exit plan for when I get caught. It’s not going to be sunshine and roses, a happy ever after for me. Any future with me lands you in prison as an accessory. I can’t… I won’t let that happen.”

His jaw tightened, the muscles tensing. “I’m an adult, Tabby. A grown man who can make his own decisions. Aside from the fact you’re too damn smart to get caught, I’d rather spend an unknown quantity of years with you before they slam the cage door behind me than be without you.”

“That’s love talking,” she muttered. “Love makes fools of men.”

Grit laughed. “Little tiger, I may be a fool, but don’t forget I’m not entirely a law-abiding citizen myself. My time as a merc hasn’t been spent sitting behind a desk peddling paperwork. I’ve washed blood from my hands more times than I care to remember. I know how high a man can scream with the right incentive. My gun and my knife are extensions of my fucking hand.”

She huffed. “Stop being argumentative.”

“Stop being stubborn because you’re scared of taking a step forward.” He flicked the blinker on, slowing down to take the turn onto the private road leading to the construction site. “Do I wish you’d take a permanent break from murdering people? Yeah, part of me does, because that part understands what each kill takes from your soul. Will I ask you to give it up?”

She held her breath, waiting for the word that severed their relationship here and now.

“No, because I also know that this is your healing process. No point looking at me like that,” he said mildly when she frowned at him. “No one protected you from predators when you were a child. The authorities didn’t rush in and save you from your abusers. You were alone, helpless, brainwashed by violence into a world of rape, murder, and drugs. Experimented on and tortured by the two people who should’ve loved and guarded you.”

Her breath shuddered out on a low, almost inaudible whimper.

“How many children have you saved by exterminating pedophiles, Tabitha? Sonic’s stepfather raped and murdered, what, nineteen young girls? If you hadn’t stopped him, how many more would have suffered?” He shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, it’s not lawful. It would divide the general public on a moral scale; a lot would condemn you, sure, because we’ve been taught as a society that taking a life is wrong. But I think more would fall on your side of the argument—one predator destroys countless lives. How many rape survivors lead normal lives? What percentage turn to drugs, drink, prostitution, suicide? In an ideal world, pedophiles would be sentenced to death, but we exist in a time when the rights of the criminal mean more than those of the victims. The justice system is flawed, fucked beyond recognition.”

“You get it,” she whispered.

“I get it, and I get you.” Reaching out, he curled his fingers around her nape. “What you do heals your heart, Tabitha. Defending children, avenging those you can’t save, is why you haven’t overdosed or turned into an alcoholic. You have a purpose, a reason to live when you have a dozen more not to keep going. I’ll stand with you, help you, because I love you.”

No one ever believed in her the way he did. Her brothers were aware of what her training entailed—they’d probably gone through similar trials; it wasn’t something any of them talked about, at least not with her—but none of them understood what she was, what she’d had to become to survive.

“Stop the truck,” she whispered.

“Tabby?”

“I said,” she said slowly, licking her lips, “stop the truck.”

To his credit, Grit didn’t slam on the brakes and give them both seatbelt burns, which was good for her health seeing as she was already freeing herself from the constriction. As soon as the truck stopped, he turned toward her. “Are you feeling sick? Do you need—”

She didn’t let him finish the question, and she sure as hell allowed herself no time to think. Acting on instinct, she launched across the leather bench seat, clamping her sweaty palms on his beard and digging her nails lightly into the skin beneath.

Of her own volition, she kissed him.

Made love to his mouth the way she imagined normal people expressed the emotion. Soft, gentle, yet energized by the fierceness of what she felt for him. Whether or not she ever said those three words back to him, she tried to show him instead.

Grit didn’t miss a step, despite the flare of shocked pleasure in his eyes. He kissed her back without taking over, keeping his hands on the wheel. A rumble of appreciation hummed in his throat.

The leather squeaked as she dared to shift closer, her knees bumping his thigh. She deepened the kiss, hesitantly adding her tongue. Between her legs, her core throbbed, remembering how he’d gone down on her, eating her out like she was some kind of delicacy.

Anxiety ricocheted, tearing through her like a bullet, bouncing through her until the trembling started. She broke away, rearing back, surprised to discover she was breathless for all the reasons she wasn’t expecting.

“Easy, little tiger.” He lifted his hand, tucking an errant strand of hair away from her cheek. “If you’d like to make that a habit, I have no objections.”

She inhaled slowly through her nose. “I can’t… the words…”

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to the spot on her forehead that always settled her nerves. “You don’t have to, Tabby. You already told me what I wanted to hear.” His gaze lowered to her mouth. “Put your seatbelt back on. The road gets rougher up ahead.”

Her head cocked, catching the subtle warning. Instinct told her he wasn’t talking about the actual road. “You aren’t angry?”

Grit smirked, putting the truck into gear and continuing their journey. “That you kissed me?”

“Without your permission,” she mumbled.

“Did you miss what I just said about making it a habit? Little tiger, you can kiss me whenever the hell you like, no matter what time of day, as long as you’re comfortable with it. Anything I have, everything I am, is yours.” He dragged two fingers from the hollow of his throat down to his belt suggestively, shooting her a wink. “That includes this very attractive body complete with prime fitness, magic hands, and not as many miles on the clock as you think.”

Tabitha stared at him, blinking as she processed all that. After a few seconds of silence, she started laughing; a quiet, happy noise that quickly escalated. “You sound like a porn star masquerading as a car salesman, listing all your attributes.”

He grinned. “Not all of them, little tiger.”

Heat rushed into her face. “I noticed you left your monster cock off the list.”

Grit muttered something under his breath that she interpreted as, “Not for long.” Before she could ask him to repeat it, they hit a rough patch of road, the surface pitted and pocked by numerous construction vehicles.

He navigated the worst of the potholes slowly, but her ass still bounced on the seat as though they were riding a storm in the Atlantic. The closer they got to the site, the rougher it became until suddenly the truck hit a stretch of smooth, new tarmac.

“If Evander wants to deter clients, the road will achieve his goal,” she commented, running her tongue around her teeth to check they were still intact.

“He’s got it covered. By opening week, it’ll be perfect.”

Yeah, she believed it. Evander was the money man, after all. Whatever it cost to achieve perfection for his newest venture, he would pay it. What was that saying? Start as you mean to go on. Success was achieved by setting off with all the little duckies in an immaculate row.

Admiration filled her when Grit pulled up beside the crew cabins and switched off the engine. So much had changed since her stint undercover; the dilapidated carcasses of the old ranch buildings were no more, replaced by a series of cabins that blended into the surroundings as though they’d always been there.

She remembered the blueprints, mentally identifying the different sectors as she looked around. It was a big resort, bisected by a number of graveled pathways. She knew which buildings were completed by the freshly laid turf being watered by sprinklers—on timers, no doubt, to miss the brutal heat of the afternoon sun.

“They’re ahead of schedule,” she said quietly.

“They are. Evander’s dream is coming to fruition.” Unhooking his seatbelt, Grit opened the door. “Come on, little tiger. I’ve got something to show you.”

Her eyes zipped over to the left, landing on the biggest building. It looked like a two-story cabin, all wood and glass, but she was aware of the basement hidden beneath—she’d done some work down there. That building was designed to be the heart of the club, where BDSM was the core focus.

It was good Evander dedicated areas for other kinks; not that she’d be using any of them.

“As long as there aren’t any whips or chains in the vicinity,” she told him, following him out of the truck. The late afternoon heat hit her once she left the air-conditioned comfort of the vehicle. “If Evander didn’t fork out some dough for a pool, he’s an idiot.”

Laughing, Grit rounded the front of the truck and took her hand. “He’s many things, but an idiot, he’s not. BDSM might be the reason for building Serenity, but rest and relaxation is an important part of any vacation. The pool, hot tubs, sauna, and steam room are all completed. Ever been in a hot tub when it’s snowing, Tabitha?”

The first and only time she’d been in a hot tub, she’d drowned a woman who preyed on prepubescent boys before damaging the heating element, ensuring the police found an overboiled corpse.

“No.”

“Well, something to look forward to, then.” He gave her a tug, leading her down one of the pretty paths. “Part of the deal I have with Evander is living on-site. It’s stupid having the head of security commuting from the city every day, especially if there’s an emergency.”

“Makes sense,” Tabitha agreed.

“He brought me here the other day to choose one of the permanent residential cabins. He’s going to decorate it however I want, furnish it to my taste. The thing is…” Grit stopped, turning her to face him. “I don’t want this to be about me, Tabby. I know I’m throwing a lot at you today, and there’s more to come, but I see this as the next chapter in my life. A chapter I hope will be full of us.”

“You and me?”

“You and me. I told him I needed to bring you here myself, to ask you if relocating to Denver might be something you’d be willing to consider. I’m not interested in an empty house where I just exist when I finish work, Tabitha; I’ve already got that in Phoenix.” His thumb caressed her cheekbone. “I want a home. Somewhere meaningful. When someone asks if I’m going home, I want to say yes, I’m going home to my beautiful woman, to cuddle with her on the couch while we watch a movie and throw popcorn at each other’s heads.”

She snorted in amusement. “An excellent way to lose an eye.”

His lips quirked. “Not the point I’m making. The main reason we’re standing here is—”

Tabitha pressed her finger to his lips. “I don’t have a home, Grit. Never have. I’ve got bases, squalid little apartments here and there in case I need a bolt hole. I don’t have nice things, fancy furniture, any of the frivolities. You’ve told me what you want; I’m telling you I have no idea how to build a home or a family, or even have a relationship.”

Grit’s brow dropped into a frown.

“I guess I can learn. Try to, at the very least. So, yes, I will move to Denver with you and camp out in the kinky sex club. Just remember it’s not easy living with insanity, okay? I don’t think I’ll be the easiest person to live with, but I’ll…” Insecurity washed through her—so many things could go wrong. “Don’t throw me away if things get crazy. That’s all I’m asking.”

“I love your brand of crazy,” he assured her.

Her shoulders relaxed. “I may need that in writing.”

“Would our signatures on a marriage certificate suffice?”

She jerked back, narrowing her eyes. “That’s jumping a bit too far ahead, big boy. Let’s just try living together without murdering each other in our sleep first before you bring formalities into the equation.”

“Little tiger,” he said with a heavy, faux sigh of exasperation. “You do realize we’ve essentially been living together for a few weeks now, and we’re both still alive? We’ve already achieved several milestones.”

She was sweating; whether it was the heat or her own nerves, she didn’t know. Attempting to redirect his attention, she gestured to the path. “Did you choose a cabin?”

Taking the hint, Grit started walking again. He was an intuitive man; he probably knew if he made a big deal of her agreement, she’d get anxious enough to backpedal. “I have one in mind. I’d like you to pick your favorite, though. We have free rein to choose.”

Boot scrunching on gravel, she followed him as the path wound through the club buildings and out toward the forest framing the rear of the property. The cabins were externally identical to the kink buildings, but they varied in size.

“I thought the residential housing was designed to be all one size? Same internal layout?” She studied the first two cabins, comparing them to the ones beside and behind.

“Originally, yes. I think Elias convinced his husband to make alterations to the designs during construction which was slightly inconvenient, but he did make a good argument for the changes. The original design was basically intended for single occupants or those with a partner. The point he made was that every family isn’t the same—space would be tight for triads or poly dynamics.” Grit’s gaze swept over the cabins, assessing each one. “Evander upgraded several cabins to accommodate larger dynamics. Some have bigger master bedrooms, others have additional bedrooms. Personally, I think it was a smart decision.”

Tabitha strolled along, her brain clicking onto the rhythm of her boots on the pristine pathway. “Crunch, crunch, crunchity-crunch. The bunny wants dinner but the mean man says lunch.”

She heard him chuckle, but he didn’t follow her. He just let her wander from cabin to cabin. It was kinda like being Goldilocks, she thought. This one was too big, that one was too much in the middle. She drifted toward the right, drawn toward one cabin in particular.

She walked up the steps to the front door, pressing her hand against the wood. What was she waiting for, a sign to tell her this was the one, her home? How the hell was she supposed to know what made a good home when she’d never had one? It had walls, a roof, amenities.

Still, she liked this one.

“Are we allowed to go inside?” she called back to Grit, then jumped as he reached past her to unlock the door. “Jesus, I thought I was supposed to be the ninja.”

“You’ve been spaced out for a good five minutes,” he told her, shoving open the door and gesturing her inside. “Sneaking up on you wasn’t difficult.”

Well, hell. Wearing a black scowl, Tabitha stepped over the threshold carefully, unsure what she’d find. It wasn’t a surprise to see the bare bones of the place exposed, but all it was waiting for was someone to come along and make decisions. Paint color, carpet, furniture. “You live dangerously, big boy.”

An arm looped around her waist, hauling her back against his chest so his laugh rumbled through her. The happy vibration shot straight between her legs, as though pleasing him was a reward. “Gonna live with you, aren’t I? Doesn’t that tell you I like to walk on the wild side?”

She almost asked him to fuck her again. The question perched on the tip of her tongue; she was sure she could go through with it. But if he agreed, what if she failed again?

Grit nipped lightly at the side of her neck, then gave her ass a swift, stinging smack that only intensified the ache beneath her belly button. “Go take a look around, Tabitha. Imagine living here, with me, and see how it makes you feel.”

It was an empty cabin, she mused, with counters and windows, doors and cupboards. How was it supposed to make her feel anything? Her knowledge of pretty fabrics and what color reflected the current fashion was severely limited.

She liked black because it concealed blood. Certain shades of blue and green were appealing, and she found buttercups appealing because of how yellow they were. Purple was pretty, although she’d never owned anything that rich in color because it drew attention when she didn’t need it.

Her bootsteps echoed in the empty rooms as she wandered down the hallway. The kitchen and bathroom, both spacious, were on the right. The living room was on the left; the focal point wasn’t the wide window looking out over the resort, but the big-ass fireplace and stone surround. A large storage area was tucked into an alcove between the living and dining areas.

The end of the hallway split in two directions. The door to her left opened up into what she assumed was either an office or a room reserved for other things; a rec room, games room, maybe even some kind of playroom, although why anyone would want a sex room in their cabin when they were in a literal kinky playground baffled her.

The master bedroom was massive, like the entire square footage of her old apartment. There were built-in drawers and wardrobes hidden behind sliding doors, and the view out the window was nothing but forest and hills.

She spent several minutes doing as Grit asked, envisioning herself being normal. Rolling out of a big, superking-sized bed in the morning, using the interlinking door to go into the bathroom for a shower. Drinking coffee in the kitchen while Grit slept after a long nightshift.

How did that make her feel?

Domesticated. Tamed. Safe.

It was going to be an adjustment. Not just relocating, but moving out to an incredibly rural area where the only traffic was whatever wildlife chose to cross the road. The commute wasn’t too terrible, and at least Denver had an airport.

A flash of movement in the window caught her eye; she saw Grit walking up behind her in the reflection, so she didn’t jump when his hands landed on her shoulders.

“Thoughts, opinions, comments?”

“It could be home,” she admitted.

“Yeah? We can view some of the others if you’re not sure.”

Tabitha tilted her head back to meet his eyes. He seemed pleased by her choice, which meant she hadn’t said anything wrong. “We should go see the one you picked out, right? Compare them? This is pretty small.”

“That’s considerate of you, little tiger, but unnecessary. This was my first choice. Must be fate.” He rested his chin on top of her head and exhaled contentedly. “I think we’ll be happy here, Tabby. Fresh air, privacy, good friends. Think you can handle the country life?”

Who knew for certain? But one thing she was sure of was that she was willing to try.

*

Grit

All things considered, she was taking everything in her stride.

He’d fully expected a vehement fuck off at his suggestion they move in together, and she was holding steady through the whole house selection process they were doing right now.

Yes, she was pale. Yes, she was trembling slightly.

But so far, aside from the odd blip, she was keeping her anxiety under control, which in turn stopped her brain from taking a detour into next level craziness.

The question hung in the air, much like a guillotine blade dangling over his neck. He’d watched her studying each cabin before her instincts landed on this one, which had to be a sign. Once inside, she’d drifted through the rooms, muttering to herself—although he didn’t think she was aware of the habit.

“We haven’t got much to lose, right?”

It wasn’t the overwhelming yes he’d prefer, and he wanted to admonish her for believing they had nothing to lose; in his mind, they had it all on the line, and he’d do whatever necessary to protect it.

Instead, he played it light. “Is that a yes to being my cabin bunny?”

“I… yes. This is it, Grit. Our place.”

“You belong here, Tabitha. You belong with me.” His heart did a slow roll in his chest when she turned and wrapped her arms around his waist. “We’re gonna make this work, little tiger. I don’t care what it takes, it’s you and me now.”

Her forehead thunked against his sternum. He loved how small she was, how delicate she felt in his arms even though she was strong enough to kick his ass to Alaska and back. “What if we… what if I can’t…”

“Finish the sentence.”

“Sex,” she whispered hollowly.

Fuck, he was hoping to tackle this issue a little later. The proposal he had in mind required tact and diplomacy to explain, yet he couldn’t lie to her now. If she was brave enough to raise the subject, he was man enough to give her honesty in return. “I was intending to talk to you about this, but you’ve beaten me to it. First of all, I love you, Tabitha. Body, brain, and heart. If time proves that intimacy of that level is too much, it doesn’t matter. I’ll still love you.”

He heard her breath catch, felt her breasts hitch against him.

“I talked to Evander about certain aspects of our relationship. Talking to someone about a problem is often useful,” he told her sternly when she stiffened. “Talking to me is a habit I’m going to encourage you to learn. He had a suggestion.”

She stepped back and skewered him with a glare. “You spoke to your new boss about our nonexistent sex life? How dare you.”

Luckily, he caught the edge of humor in her tone before he shot down her attitude. “Totally worth it when he gives good advice.” Without drawing her attention, he checked his watch, calculating the time. “Let’s walk and talk, little tiger. There’s something else you need to see.”

Tabitha nodded slowly, rubbing her cheek on his shirt in a way that suggested comfort rather than agreement. She eased away, letting her arms drop from around his waist. “Haven’t we had enough excitement for one day?”

Concern rippled through him. Studying her, he tipped her chin up with a fingertip, assessing everything from the lines around her eyes and mouth to the changing color of her irises. The blue was darkening to a shade he associated with her anxiety; a subtle tell he doubted anyone else would pick up on. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Tabitha.”

She attempted to smile, but it fell horribly flat. “Putting pieces together before someone jams a knife under my ribcage is one of my talents, Grit. We need to talk is generally code for you’re not going to like this. Throw in that you’ve had a manly chat with Evander, he’s giving you helpful suggestions, and now we have to go see a mysterious something… that’s not a knife in my ribs, Grit, it feels more like a noose around my throat.”

He collared said throat with his hand, monitoring her pulse. “No noose, no leash, no chains. It’s only a suggestion, not an order. Just walk with me and listen, okay? Ten minutes, little tiger, that’s all I’m asking.”

She heaved a sigh, shooting mini daggers at him with her eyes. “Fine. For the record, you’ve asked a lot tonight. Many things,” she grumbled under her breath. “Many things, and singing rings, and the arcade machine goes ding-ding-ding.”

“None of that made any sense.” Grit bent and skimmed his lips over hers before releasing her neck. Reaching for her hand, he linked their fingers and led her from the bedroom. “Do you know you’re adorable when you go off on one of your rhyming tangents?”

A snort of disbelief was her answer.

“No, seriously. It’s like part of you regresses, softens, accesses some hidden reservoir of innocence. Half of what you babble is gibberish, but it’s kind of fascinating how your mind rolls it all together.” To his relief, she offered no resistance as they walked to the front door. Her fingers were chilled, her palm damp, but she trusted him enough not to balk. “It amazes me how you managed to protect your inner child.”

“There’s a big difference between protected and dead, Grit. They hollowed me out, carved me up, and what they couldn’t use, they left to rot. The rhyming isn’t the child I could’ve been expressing herself; it’s the toxic shit brewing from the dead pieces of me.”

“Hmm.” He heard the disapproval in the sound. Well, he better add this to the ever growing list of issues they needed to tackle. At this rate, he’d have to ask Connie to fly out and lock Tabitha in a room with her; the psychologist knew how to deal with rape victims a lot fucking better than he did.

It was hard to see Tabitha as a victim. The thick, volatile shell she’d built layer by layer around herself was damn near impenetrable unless a smart man knew where to look for the cracks. Her career as a killer might not endear her to many, but those who’d been victims themselves, those who understood that taking the law into vigilante hands was the only way to get real justice, would raise her high and worship the ground she walked on.

The one who got away and made a difference in the fucked up world where men believed they were gods.

Grit stepped out into the late afternoon heat, locking the door and pocketing the key once Tabby joined him on the steps. He was going to ask Evander about adding a porch, a quiet place where he could sit with Tabitha on his lap and just take time to breathe.

Unwilling to continue the previous track of conversation in case he inadvertently sent her plummeting down a rabbit hole of memories, Grit held his silence as they walked along the path. The crunch of gravel and birdsong were the most prominent noises in their surroundings; tomorrow, the peace would be shattered by the crews returning to the site.

“I don’t like surprises, Grit.” Tabitha kept pace beside him, her stride even and purposeful. Obviously, she was determined to prove she was strong, unfazed by whatever was heading her way. “If you’re going to explain whatever the fuck is going on, now would be the time.”

Heading away from the cabins, he steered her in the direction of the main play areas. The proposed plan was solid; finding the words to lay it out wasn’t quite as simple. “Eli and Evander had a few issues with Callie due to her past. She’s reactive to certain triggers like whips and belts. Has she spoken to you about that?”

She shrugged. “I offered to kill her father for her. She said no, but he’s on my list for when I get bored. The other asshole who abused her is already dead, more’s the pity.”

Of course she’d offer to murder the man who made a young girl’s life absolute misery, he thought with pride and exasperation. With a half laugh, he shook his head. “Well, then you understand that intimacy for her is difficult when one of her husbands is a sadist. They did a scene at Avalon to start the desensitization process, and as support, they drafted Thane as a chaperone.”

She didn’t break stride, didn’t falter an inch, but he felt her retreat. “I see.”

“Evander suggested that something similar might be worth trying in our situation. Not an active participant,” he assured her, “but a silent observer in the room to act as moral support.”

“For you or me?”

“Both if needed.” Honesty rang in his voice; he wasn’t ashamed to admit that sex might end up being a harrowing experience for them both. There was no way of knowing how she’d react when she felt a man inside her again, if she’d even realize it was him and not her father. There were too many unknowns, and she was a killing machine with a multitude of triggers. “I get that this might not be the right track for you—Dominic put you on display for his friends, fucked you for show, and I understand if this is a hard limit.”

Tabitha’s teeth gnawed on her lower lip. She wouldn’t look at him, just focused her gaze on the ground at her feet as she took each step. “It doesn’t bother me. I spent years being paraded around naked. Flesh is just flesh.”

He diverted her toward one of the smaller buildings. “That was then, little tiger. This is now. You have a choice; your voice matters.”

Now came the hesitation. As they approached the door of the medical play cabin, the same building where they’d had their first fight, her feet began to drag. He felt her body resist, leaning back slightly. “W-When are we meant to be testing this suggestion?”

“Soon, if you’re willing to try.” There was no need for a key this time; he simply took hold of the handle and swung the door open. “There’s no medical equipment in this building yet. The shipment was delayed by a few days.”

Breathing heavily, she eyed the threshold. “W-Who’s going to be the watcher?”

“That would be me.” A low, calm voice echoed down the hallway, followed by steady footfalls. From the shadows further in, Evander emerged like a Viking king. “Good to see you again, little hellcat.”

The pulse in her throat throbbed even though her expression went flat. “That went from suggestion to confirmed in short order.”

“I thought it might be easier for us to sit down with Evander and figure out if this could work. You have to be comfortable with him.”

Her chin jutted up. “It’s not like we haven’t done stuff in front of him before.”

A shudder tore through her, but she shook it off, straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders. Twisting her head from side to side as though limbering up for a fight, she tugged her hand free and moved forward with determination. “You want to put on a show, let’s get on with it.”

Grit’s eyebrows rose when she elbowed past Evander, leaving a swath of aggression on the air like ink in oil. “Well, fuck.”

Evander rubbed his thumb over his mouth. “Those mood swings are lethal.”

“Unfortunately, they’re not the only thing capable of killing me.”

A huge hand clapped down on his shoulder. “She likes you, she won’t kill you. Maim, maybe.”

“That’s so helpful, thanks. Here goes nothing,” he muttered, setting off after her and wondering if either of them would be whole when they came back out.

*

Tabitha

Anger fueled her as she bulled her way into the cabin. It was definitely different to the last time she’d been in here; the bare bones of construction she’d left behind were now fleshed out with board and plaster, the scent of fresh paint and varnish lingering in the warm rooms.

The hallway was decorated in a rich apricot color, adorned with framed pictures she was sure were pretty if her temper wasn’t blinding her. The skirting boards were white; the floorboards sanded and varnished so the wood grain popped beneath the golden brown stain.

She had a frustrating urge to slam her boot through the perfection and create an ugly hole to mirror the one inside her. Instead, she stomped her way to the end of the hallway, to the only door that was open.

Fear was a fist around her heart. Impetuousness brought her here, her pride and temper forcing her inside the cabin rather than breaking away and bolting as fast and as far in the opposite direction as her legs would carry her. Now she had to rely on both of those things getting her through this in one piece.

Angry sex probably wasn’t what Grit wanted, but by God, it was what he was going to get. Biting, clawing, bloody fucking that stopped her from thinking and feeling, because if she let her brain regain any sense of control, she was going to throw up.

Stepping through the door, shock punched her in the gut. He hadn’t lied when he told her there was no medical equipment—she didn’t think even her brand of recklessness would’ve overridden her self-preservation instincts on that score—but there was a rather large bed, neatly made with obviously new sheets and covers.

“Talk it through, my ass,” she ground out between her teeth. “He knew. He fucking knew. That’s okay, this is good. Get mad. Get mad, get mad, get mad.” Those two words began to swirl and gather momentum in her head as fear and fury went to war. “The bunny’s out of luck, gonna have to fuck. Today she’s not the only one who’s not a lucky duck.”

Blindly, she started to strip. The lightweight T-shirt she wore fluttered away, forgotten. Fighting with the stupid clasp of her bra, she tried to toe off her boots and almost fell flat on her face.

Warm, callused hands caught her upper arms, holding her steady. “Stop, Tabby. Stop panicking, it’s okay. This isn’t—”

On a cry of rage, she whirled, freeing herself. In a one-two strike, she smacked her forearms against Grit’s, knocking them aside, before slamming both of her palms into his chest. The impact radiated painfully through her bones from fingers to wrists to elbows. “If you want to fuck, be a man about it.”

“Tabitha,” he said gently, trying to appease her, “calm down.”

She heard her teeth snap together in warning, felt her lips peel back in a snarl. Angry, black energy thrummed through her, the kind she experienced when in the middle of a particularly gory kill. The kind that drove her to do bad, bad things to even worse men.

When she lunged for him, Grit’s expression altered swiftly, hardening into a reflection of his own deadly headspace. He met her halfway, colliding with her body without hesitation, knocking her off balance. When she bounced off all those goddamn muscles, he didn’t stop.

Tackling her onto the bed, he let his full weight come down on top of her, pinning her under him so effectively, she struggled to find a way out. His forearm pressed across her throat, jammed firmly under her chin as she growled like a feral wolf and tried to savage him with her teeth. “Stop.”

Didn’t he understand that she couldn’t?

Kicking better than any mule, she drummed her heels against his legs, using her boots as a weapon until he shifted his knees and rendered them useless. One big hand captured her wrist, leaving her with only one limb free.

“Little tiger,” he crooned. “Stop.”

She tried to clap her hand against his ear; he turned his head so her palm slapped the side of his neck. When she raked her nails down his skin, he hissed loudly but didn’t retaliate. Nothing she did got any reaction from him; that was when she knew she’d lost.

Still, she fought. Squirming, bucking, thrashing as though demons writhed under her skin. She fought herself, waged war on him, until she couldn’t drag in a full breath. Body burned out, mind mentally exhausted, she went limp.

“Good girl.” Grit sighed in relief. “Take a minute to process, Tabby. Breathe.”

There was a horrible buzzing noise in her ears.

“That’s her version of a panic attack?” Evander asked calmly.

Grit rested his cheek against hers, his beard acting as a cushion. “Yeah. Once it gets its teeth into her, she can’t stop until we reach this point.”

“Talk about living in hell,” the other Dom said in a pitying tone.

“Welcome to our world.”

Tabitha tuned them out, closing her eyes. The vibration of Grit’s voice was soothing, persuading her to relax. When her breathing finally slowed and her heartbeat returned to normal, she was almost asleep.

The heavy weight on top of her disappeared. She felt an arm curl under her shoulders, easing her into a sitting position, then something super soft and comforting wrapped her up in a cocoon. She was lifted for a few moments, then her bottom settled onto hard thighs.

“Drink, little tiger.”

“Huh?”

The plastic rim of a bottle tapped her lower lip. As if on cue, she opened her mouth and almost choked on the first sip of refreshingly cool water. She drank greedily, then dropped her head wearily to his shoulder.

“Ready to listen now?” Grit murmured.

“Mmmn.”

“We’ve taken some big steps to get here, right? This is the last hurdle, Tabitha. I know it’s not easy for you to trust me, and the fact you do is… humbling. Having Evander here is a precaution; think of him like an old security blanket at the foot of the bed.” Grit rubbed his cheek over the crown of her head, filling her with a sense of contentment. “Maybe you don’t need him, but he’s right there within reach if you do.”

Her gaze flicked over to the big guy where he perched on the edge of an armchair tucked into the corner. In washed-out jeans that were almost white and a white T-shirt, he was a non-intrusive entity. Only the dark blond of his hair and beard, the color of his eyes, made him stand out from the clinically white walls.

Evander leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his fingers linked together. “This is where I tell you I have no doubts about Grit as either a man or a Dom, Tabitha. When you use your safeword, he’ll stop because we have rules in BDSM and that’s pretty much we all abide by if we don’t want to be put in the corner with a red hot bottom.”

The image of Grit standing with his nose to the corner of the room, his ass hot and red and on display, brought a timid smile to her lips. “I’m not going to use a safeword.”

The kindness in his eyes didn’t lesson, but the authority in them sharpened, along with his voice. “You will, because Grit is going to make you use it.”

“That’s not—”

“Being married to Callie has taught me a lot, Tabitha. Not just about Littles—being a Daddy Dom wasn’t something I ever dreamed of—but about strong women with complex histories of abuse. This guy,” he continued, jerking his chin at Grit, “wouldn’t hurt you if I held a gun to his forehead. You know it, but understandably, you don’t trust it. It’s a catch twenty-two, sweetheart; he needs to shove you into a place you don’t want to go so you understand just how deep the trust between you runs.”

“So you’re here as what? A sex referee?”

Grit tried to conceal his laugh by coughing; Evander just grinned.

“No, little hellcat. Like Grit said, I’m a communal security blanket.”

No, there was more to it than that. Her brain might be ninety-percent fried from the panic attack from hell, but she wasn’t stupid. Narrowing her eyes, she weighed him up, then lifted her head to give Grit a suspicious side eye.

When it struck her, she smirked. “You’re here in case I go postal.”

Evander pursed his lips. “That’s one reason, yes, but not the main one.”

Hmm, wouldn’t that be an interesting fight? He was six-seven, outweighed her by a good… one-fifty by her estimation, maybe even a bit more, and he wasn’t some gym-fit wannabe warrior. His muscles were built from scratch through years of hauling lumber and hammering in nails. Physical stamina was one of his strengths.

Add in Grit—who wasn’t quite as tall or heavy, but whose fighting skills she knew on a personal level—and they would definitely provide her with a challenge, one she’d enjoy in a primal sense.

Would she win?

Possibly, she mused. The odds of taking them both down were slightly on the lower side than them flattening her.Although… if she lost control, let fear yank the reins from her hands, there really wasn’t any way of predicting what she’d do. The occasional times she’d done just that with a target, she had no recollection of what she’d done, just a mutilated body to dispose of however she saw fit.

Because keeping up appearances was vital, Tabitha chuckled menacingly, forcing her mouth to curve into a devilish smile she didn’t have the energy to reinforce. “Hate to break it to you, but if that happens, it’ll take more than just you two to stop me.”

“That’s not our concern, Tabby.” Grit kissed her temple. “This is your choice. We can try to do this now, or we can wait until you feel ready. Evander will stay if you want him to, or he can go. There’s no rush, no pressure.”

“So the bed just magically appeared?” she asked with a touch of sarcasm.

“No, that’s on me,” Evander admitted. “Grit volunteered to broach the subject with you, and we agreed meeting here would give you more privacy than the hotel room. Not to mention it was convenient, given that he wanted to show you the residential cabins.” He sat back and offered her a rueful smile. “Right now, the play areas are largely unfurnished; the equipment that is in place wouldn’t be suitable for this.”

Hmm, perhaps she could give them the benefit of the doubt. She didn’t sense he was lying to her, and Grit’s body language was relaxed.

Wetting her lips, she inhaled slowly and counted the beats of her heart. When she deemed herself steady enough to make a decision, she exhaled and shrugged off the blanket. Standing, she let it fall to the floor, then reached for her bra clasp.

“Buckle up, buttercup,” she told Grit in a cool, unaffected tone. “Don’t embarrass yourself in front of your new boss.”