Page 5

Tabitha

Thoughts, feelings, instincts, they’re all still part of you.

But she didn’t want them to be. It was so much easier to be void of emotion. No fear, no guilt, no obstructions getting in the way of her goals. Just solid focus, her weapon of choice in her hands, and a very simple checklist in her head.

She should be out in the big, wide world right about now, hunting down the Irish prick who had the utter gall to put a hit on her head. There were a few candidates on her shit list she could take care of on her way to Ireland, but no, she was losing herself in Rory McCabe, doing idiotic things like sitting astride him without a damn stitch of clothing.

Out there, she was fearless, the undisputed queen of fearlessness.

In here, she was female. Reduced to a growing puddle of hormones and anxiety, unsure of where to set her feet in case the ground opened up and swallowed her whole.

Grit watched her with those fascinating eyes, as patient as a cat on the hunt. His body was relaxed, even his shoulder muscles were free of tension despite the punishing grip of her nails into his flesh.

He was an excellent specimen of a man, she supposed. The time he’d spent working undercover on the construction site had honed his already buff frame. Everything about him was perfectly proportioned, although she suspected he’d probably been gangly as a teenager, before maturity and his physically active career rounded him out into the finished product.

Tabitha shifted uneasily, not enjoying being put on the spot this way. Admitting anything while she was trying to avoid making contact with his erection was a dangerous game. “Attraction is subjective…”

Those eyes darkened slightly. “If you were any other woman, I’d get an answer a different way. Sliding my fingers into your tight little pussy isn’t going to gain me anything but a black eye, though, is it?”

Her core clenched savagely on emptiness. “Maybe a broken nose as well.”

“Might be worth it,” he muttered under his breath. “Are you wet, little tiger?”

Heat rose up her throat to illuminate her cheeks. “I-I can’t produce natural lubrication without pharmaceutical intervention.”

Namely, one of Rita’s experimental drugs which had been rigorously tested on Tabitha during her sexual education with Dominic. The guinea pig lifestyle she’d endured through her teens wasn’t a time she remembered fondly.

“May I?”

May he what? Confused, she frowned at him. When his gaze dropped pointedly to the space between her thighs, she turned rigid. Trying to play it cool and not let him see how the idea rattled her, she arched an eyebrow. “Are you so willing to risk that pretty face, big boy?”

“Yes. Do you think I’m going to hurt you when you can snap my neck faster than I can blink?”

Fuck, she really wished he’d said no. Voluntarily kissing him was preferable to having her core exploited. It was the one part of herself she couldn’t stand to leave unprotected, the place men liked to hurt most. She could take beating after beating, be stabbed and shot and throttled to the point of unconsciousness, but when her center was violated, it gouged deep into her brain, far deeper than any weapon could reach.

Swallowing hard, she said glibly, “It’s your neck, I guess.”

“Yeah, it is.” Slowly, he lifted his hands from the back of his head. His left stroked up her arm to her shoulder, then along her collarbone to her throat. It curled around the nape of her neck before his fingers cradled her skull gently. “In BDSM, subs have safewords, Tabitha. Red, yellow, and green. If the urge to break anything substantial on my person becomes overwhelming, all you have to do is say red. Okay?”

Jesus, she really was insane, wasn’t she? This was going against every self-preservation instinct she possessed, and each one was screaming at her not to do this.

“I want you to watch me, Tabitha. Don’t look away, don’t look down, don’t close your eyes. Your eyes on mine.” Grit nudged her chin up with a finger. “I’m not your father. I’m not any of the men who caused you pain for fun. This isn’t going to hurt, I promise you.”

God help her, she believed him. Trembling, she attempted to hide the flinch as his right hand rested lightly on her thigh. Her skin twitched under the slow up and down glide of his palm as he caressed her leg from knee to hip.

“I-I-I…”

“It’s okay if you need to safeword, Tabitha. I know I’m pushing your limits. Let me go as far as you’re comfortable without escalating into fear.” His fingers trailed lazily along the inside of her thigh. “The last thing I want is for you to be afraid of me.”

Her arms shook as she tightened her hold on his shoulders. One of her nails broke with the pressure of digging into his skin, yet he never reacted; his eyes locked on hers as though the world around them failed to exist.

“Breathe, baby. I’ve got you.”

That big hand slid between her thighs, covering her sex. Her heart ricocheted into her ribs as her lungs stopped working completely. The cereal she’d consumed so happily was determined to make a reappearance.

Releasing her grip on his shoulders, she slammed her palms against his chest, shoving herself away as far as her arms allowed.

Panicked whimpers filled her head.

“All right, little tiger. Shush now. Shush.”

“I can’t… I’m sorry, I can’t.” The words squeezed through the obstruction in her throat, croaking free.

“Don’t ever apologize for this.” Grit grasped her face in both hands, his eyes dark and intent. She hadn’t even realized he’d stopped touching her there. “None of this is your fault, Tabby Cat. We took a good, positive first step and we’ll leave it on a high note.”

She wheezed in a breath. “You barely touched me.”

“All my bones are still in one piece. That’s a win.” He tilted his head. “You were a good girl, letting me touch what is obviously a trigger point. That’s a bigger win. Did it hurt?”

“N-No.”

“We’re on a roll. Three wins in a row. Jackpot.” Winking, he tapped a fingertip on her rigid arm. “Relax these for me, little tiger. I’d like to hold you if you’ll let me.”

This request, she didn’t hesitate to obey. She slumped forward, her face pressing into the curve where his neck met his shoulder as the rest of her went limp. The shaken part of her resisted Grit’s arms as they wrapped around her, firm yet light.

“Rest your head for a while, Tabitha. Aftercare isn’t going to kill you, no matter how much you believe otherwise.” One big hand began rubbing circles on her lower back, encouraging her to relax. “It must be tiring to carry around all this shit in your head. We’ll try this again later when you’re calmer.”

God, he smelled good. “Do you hate your neck that much you’d risk it twice?”

Grit laughed and nuzzled his cheek against her hair. “I’m in no particular rush to get inside your panties, little tiger. I’m actually enjoying your company; sex is just an added bonus. For now, we’ll take baby steps toward a goal. Little kisses, a gentle petting of this shy pussy, a lot of care and attention.”

“That sounds like hell,” she whispered against his throat. “Unjust punishment.”

“It would be stupid of me to use desensitization as punishment. I want you to find the pleasure in being with someone instead of cowering away in the shadows. I won’t lie—it’s going to be rough as fuck for a while. You have triggers buried everywhere like fucking landmines under your skin, and I’m bound to hit a few. That’s just how it is.”

She was tired enough to knead her fingers against his chest, discovering the small motions of her hands on his bare skin were strangely comforting. When it dawned on her that her breasts were flush to his skin, she felt her pulse lurch for several beats before it settled.

“That’s good, Tabitha. Handle the scary moments just like that.”

When his hand didn’t venture any further south than the top of her ass, Tabitha gave herself permission to rest. She sank into him, one vigilant section of her brain keeping a wary eye on his cock as she switched off everything else.

“Grit?”

“Hmm?”

“There’s a slight possibility that I might find you… attractive.”

“Well now, there’s another ray of positivity. Thank you.”

“I’ll probably be sad if I have to break your face, y’know,” she mumbled, wriggling deeper into his warmth. “Won’t be so pretty then. Broken things never get put back together quite the same way.”

“They don’t,” he agreed slowly. “But sometimes, the new way is more appealing. An unblemished ornament, all shiny and freshly painted, is pretty to look at, sure. Me, I’d rather hold something with a chip, a crack, some of that pretty paint worn off in interesting places, and wonder what history it’s seen.”

Her breathing slowed to a more natural pace under the soothing caress of his rough palm. Head lolling, she rubbed her cheek over his skin.

“When I hold you and feel your scars,” he continued, “I think about how each one came to be here.” The circling stopped, his fingertips tracing scar after scar. “They raise questions—how was each one made? What tool marred this beautiful skin, and whose hand wielded it? More importantly,” he murmured in her ear, “are they still alive, so I can strip their skin away inch by inch and listen to them scream for what they did to you.”

A full-body shiver rippled through her. “Careful, big boy. You’re starting to sound like me.”

“Don’t forget what I do for a living, little tiger. Being a mercenary isn’t all quick, clean, and quiet. I do what the job demands, and I’m no stranger to torture. I can peel a man like an orange just as effectively as putting a bullet through his brain.”

“Oh, be still my heart,” she giggled, shocked by the sound.

“There, that’s better. Such a sweet laugh.” Teeth nipped her earlobe. “Before you take a nap on my lap, sit up and kiss me, Tabitha.”

Of course, her whacky brain latched onto his unintentional rhyme and proceeded to loop it into a chant of nap lap, nap lap, nap lap. Humming it in a jaunty two-step under her breath, she touched her lips to the side of this throat.

“Missed the mark by a mile, little tiger. Aim higher.”

Grumbling sleepily, she pecked the underside of his jaw.

“Higher and to the right.”

Pernickety asshole, she thought with amusement. Shifting her weight, she pushed herself into a sitting position, leaned forward, and dabbed her lips against his.

“Perfect. Again.”

Still humming, Tabitha didn’t give it a thought. Playfully, she booped his mouth again, lulled by the stroke of his hand over her back. Touch really wasn’t so scary when it was soothing and gentle, even with his big paws doing the touching. He didn’t snatch or pull at her, grope or hurt her.

“Very good, Tabby. This time, press your lips to mine and count to three.”

There was a trap here, she was sure of it, yet she watched his mouth form the words, heard them clearly, and felt only a subtle desire to obey. So subtle, it seemed as though the suggestion came from within her, not from him.

Focusing on his hand, Tabitha brushed her lips across his, forcing herself to linger as three beats of nap lap looped in her head. Her stomach began to knot uncomfortably as the seconds ticked past, her mind flicking the switch from fun to threat.

“Breathe,” Grit advised when she jerked back. “You did good.”

“That… I… Fuck.” She stared at him, completely unnerved. “I need space.”

“No. Right now, you need to cuddle into me, balance yourself, and process everything. You bent a hard limit today; I’m proud of you.” He shifted his hand to her nape, kneading precisely where tension tried to fuse her vertebrae together. “We’ll get you through this, Tabitha. I’m going to teach you that a kiss doesn’t have to be taken by force, and sex shouldn’t feel like a violation. Everything I do to you needs to make you feel good, not terrified or in pain.”

“That’s a very Dom thing to say,” she said between clenched teeth.

“Maybe because I am a Dom,” he replied, eyes glinting with humor. “Part of me is starting to believe that’s why you’re here. You’ve been on your own a long time, Tabby. Your body has needs it doesn’t recognize—or that you won’t permit yourself to acknowledge. I think you know you can trust me, even though you don’t want to, and that I’m strong enough to take the shit you throw my way. This isn’t going to be a quick ride in the sheets; it’s a fucking marathon.”

“Just because you’ve got a pretty face—”

Grit snorted in amusement. “Men aren’t pretty, little tiger. Gorgeous, handsome, ruggedly attractive, striking—”

She clapped her hand over his mouth with a roll of her eyes. “I dislike admitting weakness. This is a weakness, Grit. It makes me vulnerable.”

His response mumbled against her palm, but he didn’t fight. Instead, his fingertips dragged over her shoulders, following her spine, trailing all over her skin until a place deep in her belly began to ache. Her core clenched in response, her nerves tingling as he caressed every inch of exposed flesh.

Tight muscles went lax; her hand slid away from his mouth. With a soft groan of capitulation, she deflated against him.

“That’s better. Humans have weaknesses, Tabitha. We have vulnerabilities. Despite everything your father brainwashed you with, you are a healthy human woman, requiring all the things any woman needs. We crave companionship as a species; we’re not designed to live alone. We may think we’re apex predators, but in reality, we’re pack animals. Without weapons, we are way down on the hierarchy.” He rested his cheek against her hair. “You don’t need me for protection; you’re more than capable of defending yourself against most threats. But part of you desires physical contact. Listening to a heartbeat beneath your ear just so you know you’re not alone. A voice murmuring to you in the dark as you fall asleep. Warm skin pressing against yours; arms wrapped around you, keeping you close when you’re afraid.”

“I hate you,” she muttered, unable to stop her eyes from fluttering shut.

“Only because I’m right.”

Well, duh. She huffed an irritated breath over his throat, not bothering to reply. She lost herself in the nap lap rhythm ticking away in the back of her brain, and the patient patterns he drew over her skin.

Lost herself in thoughts, then dreams.

*

Grit

Knocking on the door was one of his most regrettable moments, probably because he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. It was likely the worst idea he’d had in a long time, yet here he was, lifting his knuckles away from the wood.

Just a couple of rooms down, Tabitha was sprawled facedown on the bed, covered to the waist with a blanket, with her right wrist cuffed to the headboard. Being pushed to her limits twice in a short period of time had sucked her dry, leaving her so exhausted she’d actually fallen asleep, naked, on his lap.

Trust was given and treasured.

The door swung open and Grit’s head tilted back to meet the curious brown gaze of Evander. The guy was six-foot-seven and fit all the criteria for a surfer audition—tanned skin, dark blond hair, and a physique that put a lot of men to shame.

Grit included himself in that category, seeing as Evander had a few years on him and could probably deadlift Grit’s weight with ease.

“Grit.” Curiosity switched to open welcome, before unease filtered through. “Oh, shit. What’s happened now?”

“Nothing. Everything’s fine,” he assured Evander quickly, holding his hands up. “As far as I know, the previous issue we had before is still dormant. The team is working on it.”

“Thank fuck. Jesus, way to give me a heart attack.”

“Sorry, it didn’t cross my mind you’d think there was a problem.”

“It’s been a rough few weeks, doesn’t take a lot to make me paranoid at the moment.” Evander shrugged, then jerked his head. “Would you like to come in?”

Glancing down the hallway to where he’d left his room door open so he could catch Tabitha if she woke up and made a break for it, Grit refused politely. “Actually, I just need to ask you and Elias for a favor…”

“Oh?”

“I was wondering if Callie might be available for a playdate this afternoon.”

Thick arms folded over a barrel chest as Evander leveled him with a dark stare. “We don’t share our wife outside of the three of us, Grit. Three’s perfect, four’s a crowd.”

“What?” Confused, he frowned before it dawned on him. “Oh, shit, no, not that kind of playdate! I meant for Tabitha to come spend some time with Callie in a completely non-sexual manner.”

Those brown eyes regarded him balefully. “Tabitha as in the deadly femme fatale you’ve spent weeks protecting Elias from? That Tabitha?”

Oh, that sounded bad when he said it like that. Sucking air between his teeth, Grit lifted his shoulder. “I seem to have acquired a woman who goes by that description, yes.”

Evander laughed. “I’m not sure I approve of your acquisition spending time with my Little, Grit, I have to be honest. Given her psychopathy and talent for playing with sharp, shiny objects…”

Reading Evander’s body language more than listening to the words, Grit’s shoulders slumped. He’d expected this on some level; of course he had. Tabitha was a killer and proud of it, particularly of her pro bono work, so it wasn’t a surprise that his idea was meeting strong resistance.

However, it was opening his eyes to the trials she must face—not only as an adult, but throughout her entire life. Prohibited from socializing as a child, ostracized once she escaped Dominic’s reach, vilified as a grown woman.

No wonder she was socially inept and possessed a serious lack of friends. She didn’t know how to be herself around the general public, and her conversational skills were basically limited to snaring her next target.

“Why don’t you come in?” Evander invited, opening the door wider.

Shaking his head, Grit took a step away. “Thanks, but I need to get back to her. She doesn’t handle restraints well and she’s handcuffed to the bed. Don’t want her waking alone, screaming the hotel down.”

“Grit—”

“It’s fine, Evander. I understand, don’t worry about it.” With a nod, he began walking back to his room, playing through alternative options to keep her occupied through his head.

Taking her outside the hotel was a definite no. Although no one had officially picked up her contract on the dark web, it didn’t mean there weren’t people out there willing to kill her before claiming the reward.

Denver was a big city with a lot of unfamiliar faces, too many tall buildings with easy accessibility for sniper nests, and no goddamn backup crew in place.

Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing his idea wasn’t going to happen. Tabitha was pretty unpredictable, especially when faced with stimuli she couldn’t handle. While she tolerated Alicia when she visited Phoenix, and put up with Anarchy’s mischievous bratty side, Callie was a stranger.

An occasionally hyperactive Little still exploring her boundaries.

He approached the open door, jolting as Evander fell into step beside him. “Fuck, for a big guy, you’re light on your feet.”

“Years of practice,” Evander said easily. “Why is she here, Grit?”

Pausing, Grit gave him the side-eye. “Because she came to me. She’s not what we think she is, not completely. Far from it, in fact. Now there’s a bounty on her head, I need to keep her locked down.”

“Or just keep her?”

Grit laughed. “You don’t keep a woman like Tabitha unless she wants to be kept. She needs a safe place and a strong hand; with me, she’s got both.”

“Mm-hmm. And the, ah, playdate? What’s that all about?”

Grinding his teeth slightly, unused to being questioned about his actions by someone who wasn’t his immediate superior, Grit cocked his head. “Doesn’t matter now, it was a stupid idea. If you’ll excuse me, I need to check on her.”

A big hand twice the size of one of his own rested on his forearm. “Explain, please.”

He couldn’t, not really. Divulging her secrets wasn’t something he would do even if there was a knife at his throat. Her childhood, her past, was no one’s business but hers… well, and now his, he supposed. “I thought it would be good for her to have some company other than mine. Until the threat is terminated, she can’t leave the hotel. She’s not used to long periods of inactivity, so I hoped making a new friend might alleviate some boredom.”

Evander’s dark eyes gave away nothing. He studied Grit with curiosity, as though searching for an ulterior motive, then gestured toward the door. “She’s important to you? As more than an assignment?”

“Yes.”

“Huh. I’d like to meet her. Callie is the love of my life, Grit. Introducing new people into our circle isn’t something I do lightly, not when her safety is at stake. I’m sure you understand that.”

“Of course.” Indecision warred in his gut; Tabitha was naked in his bed, sleeping, handcuffed. Ambushing her with a giant Viking would likely be damaging to his health, not to mention the trust they were slowly building. “Mind waiting in the living room? I’ll see if she’s awake.”

“I’m not in a rush.”

Pushing the door open fully, Grit stepped over the threshold and caught a flash of bare skin. Something whistled past his head; he heard a thud and turned to stare at the knife quivering in the doorjamb, perfectly level with his forehead.

Bristling with fury, Tabitha stood by the coffee table, poised to throw another deadly blade. Blood trickled down her right wrist, the one he’d secured the handcuff around, and her thumb was bent at a painfully odd angle.

“Should’ve used the binders,” he muttered to himself, lifting his hands in surrender.

“Should’ve used the binders,” she mocked, adding a snarl. “Only a fucking idiot would leave me tied to a bed with handcuffs. Unsupervised to boot.” Her hand was the slightest bit unsteady, which he didn’t expect. Was it pain or anger causing that little shake? “I do not like being tied down, Grit. Do you hear me?”

Oh, he heard her just fine. It was about time she comprehended just what she’d signed up for when she plunked her tight ass in his bathtub like a lost child, what the hours of stalking him and sneaking into his hotel room were about to cost her.

What the beast in him demanded when let off its leash.

Evander momentarily forgotten, Grit straightened and squared his shoulders. His muscles seemed to swell as he shrugged on his dominant persona to its full extent. “Put the knife down, Tabitha.”

“Make me,” she hissed, full of piss and vinegar.

“No problem.” Stalking forward, he covered the distance between them in a handful of strides. Not a hitch of hesitation, not a flinch of doubt. “I won’t ask twice.”

Ordinarily, it would’ve pleased him to see her wearing one of his shirts. It dwarfed her down to the knees, baggy and unflattering. Now his temper was swirling dangerously, he wanted nothing more than to rip it off her body and dole out her punishment with her naked ass raised high.

The closer he got, the more her teeth bared. She shifted her weight, the hilt of the blade flipping in her fingers from a throwing grip to one intended for up close and personal damage.

When he took the last step, he shortened it, leaning back a fraction to avoid the calculated swing. It swiped across his chest, missing his skin by the width of his finger. Grinning, he tsked softly and taunted her, snagging her wrist on the fly. “Someone woke up from her nap on the wrong side of the fucking bed today.”

She twisted, but his fingers were locked around her wrist like a clamp. Careful of her bones, he put pressure on the joint until she had no choice but to let go of the weapon.

As he kicked the knife aside, Tabitha shoved her weight into his chest, hooking her foot around his ankle and sending them both toppling to the floor, narrowly missing the coffee table.

They grappled for control, Grit on his back beneath her, wedged between the table and the couch. She didn’t aim for the usual spots a woman attacked when cornered; oh no, she went straight for his throat, her small hands trying to latch around his neck, while she lodged a knee firmly against his balls.

Unwilling to be bested by his crazy wild cat a second time, Grit decided to play dirty himself. Ignoring the nails drawing blood on his neck, he reached up and slid his fingers up her nape into the soft white-gold locks at the base of her scalp, fisting them viciously enough she actually cried out.

Using it as leverage, he pulled her head back and reared up, grunting when her knee shifted, digging deeper into his crotch. He took an elbow to the underside of his jaw, a swipe of those damned nails across his chest, and just missed her teeth sinking into his fucking ear.

Forcing her head toward the couch, he pressed her cheek to the cushions, dodging the flailing blows as she bucked and cursed a blue streak. Somehow—by the grace of God, he thought—he managed to roll up onto his knees without losing his balls or his teeth.

“Bad girl,” he ground out, his voice ominous and dangerously dark even to his own ears. Catching her wrists, he pinned them at the base of her spine in one hand and used his leg to immobilize hers. “Very. Bad. Girl.”

“Get off me, you fuckwit.”

Flipping up the hem of his shirt over her backside, he was immensely satisfied to discover no panties. The pale globes of her buttocks weren’t as full as they should be, in his opinion, but then she hadn’t been taking care of herself.

He flexed his hand, squeezing his fingers into a fist, stretching them wide. “Given your circumstances and the fact I’m trying to build trust with you, not destroy it,” he said in a cold, disappointed tone, “this goes against my instincts. But you will fucking learn how to control yourself, Tabitha, and you will learn the hard fucking way.”

“Touch me and I will take you apa—”

Smack. Grit hissed through his teeth as his palm connected with her right cheek sharply. Her flesh rippled under the force, though he hadn’t used undue power. “Threats. Throwing knives. Trying to fucking stab me.” Smack. Smack. Smack. “Bad language. Being rude. Dislocating your goddamn thumb to get out of restraints put in place for your fucking safety.”

Smack. Smack. Smack.

Tabitha held her silence remarkably well, though it wasn’t what he wanted from her. She was rigid, her muscles trembling in a way that told him she was no longer revving for a fight, but trying to shut herself down away from the pain.

“Do you think I like punishing you this way, knowing what your father did to you? Do you think hurting you makes me happy?” He injected ice into his voice, dropping an octave so the words seemed to resonate like thunder, when he felt the first sob seize her chest. “I don’t. I don’t fucking enjoy it one damn bit, Tabitha, because part of me knows you don’t deserve it.”

Flesh connected against flesh again and again, turning her bottom a rosy shade of pink. When pink began to edge toward red, he kept the spanks coming, lessening the impact so he wouldn’t bruise her.

Finally, she went limp, her pain erupting in a cacophony of broken sobs.

Everything in him yearned to comfort her. Pull that shuddering body against him and let her cry until she fell asleep. Soothe the sting of her first spanking with aloe gel and a light touch. Show her that despite the punishment and the reasons for it, he still cared for her.

But it was a punishment, and he wasn’t done yet.

Releasing her hands, Grit dragged the backs of his fingers down her damp spine lightly, only a fraction of the reassurance he wanted to give. “Stand up, little tiger, go to the bathroom, and clean up. When you come back, be ready to apologize for your behavior.”

For several long seconds, she didn’t move. She remained exactly where she was, choking on tears, until she damn near broke his heart and shattered his resolve to be a hardass.

When she finally clambered unsteadily to her feet, he fought the urge to reach out and take her arm. Those big blue eyes met his for the briefest moment, dull and haunted and full of misery so deep, he felt the wound in his own chest.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, hardly more than a breath.

“I know. We’ll talk, Tabby, after you clean up.” Relenting slightly, he cupped her cheek, running his thumb over the tears leaving tracks from her pale eyelashes to the subtle point of her chin. He couldn’t care less about the snot or the tears; she was a beautiful, wrecked mess. “Don’t be long.”

Wearily, she shuffled away without argument, warning him he’d pushed her very close to her limit. Perhaps too close. Running his hand over his face, he sighed heavily.

“Here I was, thinking Elias was the strictest Dom I know.”

Shit. Grit jerked his head up, focusing on Evander. The giant Dom leaned his back against the door, the knife Tabitha had launched in his hand. He looked strangely at ease, amused even, as he regarded the minor chaos left behind from the short battle.

“I’m not that strict,” Grit muttered. “She pushed my goddamn buttons.”

“So I noticed. Yet the spanking you gave her wasn’t half as brutal as I expected—the expression on your face was eerily foreboding.” Evander straightened, holding out the knife by the blade. “Then again, neither is she. I was anticipating someone more… brutish, if I’m honest.”

Walking over, Grit took the knife. “Sometimes I’m convinced she’s an elf.”

Evander laughed. “Indeed. She definitely has that ethereal look about her, especially when she’s trying to rip out your throat.” He tapped a finger against his neck. “You have a little blood here.”

“Guess this didn’t weigh on the right side of the playdate scales.” Shaking his head, Grit went back and retrieved the other knife, taking both to the room safe tucked behind a false air vent in the wall and securing them.

“On the contrary.”

Snorting, Grit gave him a disbelieving look. “Tabitha’s just shown you part of what makes her certifiably crazy, and you shrug it off? She’s a hellcat, Evander, a fucking tiger with a firecracker taped to her tail when she gets in a mood.”

“Callie turns into something similar when she’s on her period. The important thing I learned from this is that you can handle Tabitha, quite admirably, even when she’s hellbent on killing you. A lot of men would have retaliated, you know that, right? Impotent pride demanding they prove they were the bigger, stronger element.” Brown eyes thoughtful, he cocked his head. “Never gave beating her a thought, did you?”

“What would that accomplish?” She was already afraid of physical contact, of things that a woman should never be fearful of experiencing. Acting like her father, using pain beyond her limits to control her, wouldn’t achieve anything.

“Exactly. Obviously, she’s dangerous in her own right, but she respects you. She could’ve nailed you with that first shot,” Evander pointed out. “I don’t get the feeling she’s the kind to miss what she aims for.”

“Hmm.”

“You mentioned her father—she’s Jasper’s sister, right, which means Dominic was—”

“Yeah. I guess you learned about him from J?”

“Not much but enough to understand Tabitha a little better.” Checking his watch, the giant frowned slightly. “Callie will be going down for her nap about now. Give us an hour, then bring your hellcat. As long as she keeps her temper under control, I don’t see the harm in a friendly visit.”

Relief swamped Grit from head to toe. “Appreciate it. More than I can say.”

“She seems like a good woman, Grit. Traumatized and reactive, sure, but underneath that… I’m not going to tell you she’s a Little, but maybe try a pacifier when she gets in a mood. Sucking is self-soothing.”

“A pacifier isn’t the first thing that comes to mind for sucking.”

Evander’s grin flashed, stark white in his tanned, bearded face. “Takes a brave man to offer his dick to a woman with murder on the cards. That one has teeth and knows how to use them.”

By God, did she ever. She wasn’t afraid to, either. That ferocity was part of her allure—all that wild, ruthless, primal instinct carefully bound in chains to protect her softest side.

A man either slid beneath those chains to reach her fragile core, or he was met with the full and unapologetic force of her fury.

“She’s worth a bite or two,” was Grit’s solemn reply.

“Braver man than me, then. An hour, Grit. Make sure your girl wears something comfortable; Callie’s a pajama girl on weekends.”

“Thanks, Evander.”

“Anytime, Grit. Any damn time.” Chuckling to himself, Evander walked out, closing the door behind him quietly.

With one complication gone, Grit settled himself on the couch and waited for the second one to drag her poor, pink ass out of the bathroom. He doubted she’d come out swinging—the spanking hadn’t just knocked the breath from her, it had stripped her down to the bare essentials.

In his opinion, spanking was one of the best tools in his arsenal. It served as both punishment and reward, didn’t require anything but his hand, and was incredibly intimate. Paddles, crops, belts were all well and good, but he found they created a distance between him and his sub that a good, old fashioned hand-spanking lacked.

Skin to skin. Dominance commanding submission.

From the corner of his eye, Grit saw her shadow darken the bathroom doorway before she emerged, just as subdued as when she went in. He gave her his full attention, noting her face was clean. Tears were still shimmering in her reddened eyes, but they didn’t fall.

She padded toward him, each step slow and hesitant. Maybe she’d actually learned something from the spanking, he mused silently. Perhaps she understood now that the balance of power between them shifted easily, steered by his hand.

“Are you ready to apologize?” he demanded coolly.

Worrying her lower lip between her teeth, Tabitha started to sink down on her knees in front of him.

“No. Straddle me, Tabitha. I want to read your eyes. Consider it part of your punishment,” he told her when her shoulders sagged. “You can’t hide shit from me when I can see how that busy brain ticks.”

Obviously deeply unhappy, she clambered onto the couch to obey his command. Her butt perched uneasily on his thighs, her hands clasped together against her stomach, with her chin on her chest.

“Eyes, Tabitha. I won’t ask again.”

God, she took his breath away. Even though her eyes conveyed her misery, the blue listless and flat, she really was a stunning woman. The starkness of her hair made the color of her irises pop.

Grit waited, his palms pressed flat to the cushions. Petting her was far too tempting; she’d get that luxury once she identified her misbehavior, admitted and apologized for it. Comforting her now sent the wrong message, teaching her she could let her wild side run free and still be rewarded.

He wasn’t the kind of Dom who dictated every moment of his sub’s life, but he’d be damned if he allowed her to use his head as a practice target.

“I’m sorry,” she said, so quietly he strained to hear her. “What I did was reckless and inexcusable. I panicked when I woke up handcuffed to the bed, I felt trapped, and maybe…” She licked her lips nervously. “Maybe I overreacted. Just a smidge?”

“What are you asking me for?”

She twisted her fingers nervously, drawing his attention to the now clean wound on her wrist, and the slightly bruised joint of her thumb. She heaved a sigh. “I reacted to protect myself because even though you haven’t done anything to hurt me…”

He laid his hands over hers, stilling her restless fingers. Carefully, he turned her wrist over, frowning at the raw marks. “I’m still an unknown quantity.”

“Yes.”

Nodding, he growled softly, displeased his actions were the cause of her injuries. “I cuffed you to the bed so you couldn’t run away and get yourself into mischief; that’s on me. I should’ve had more trust in you. I took precautions to make sure if you woke and reacted badly, I’d be with you in seconds.” He skimmed his thumb over the main joint of her thumb. “Did you call for me when you were scared, Tabitha? Did you shout for me before you deliberately hurt yourself by dislocating your thumb?”

“It didn’t hurt that much,” she mumbled.

“Did you call for me, even once?” He already knew the answer—after all, he’d been listening for her the entire time.

“No,” she admitted sulkily.

“Why?”

“I’m not a princess who needs rescuing by a white knight, Grit. Never have been. Don’t you get it yet?” Her voice was hollow, empty. “I’m the villain in the story of everyone who crosses my path. The monster under the bed, the demon lurking in shadows. A nightmare.”

“One man’s nightmare is another man’s dream.”

Grit cupped her face, his heart swelling when she tilted her cheek into his palm. How lonely she must be with all those thoughts niggling at her, believing she was meant to be alone. Would she ever realize how much she had to offer the people in her life, the ones she kept close despite her insistence she loved no one and nothing?

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m sorry. Truly, Grit.”

“I figure a sore ass ought to be penance enough. But be warned, little tiger,” he added darkly, adding ominous depth to his tone, “the next time you throw anything at my head—deadly or not—I will get the biggest butt plug I can find, use it to pry open your tight little asshole, and wedge it so far inside you that you’ll taste the fucking metal. Am I making myself clear?”

Color leeched from her face as her bottom clenched; the resulting hiss of pain was immensely satisfying. However, it was the fire in her eyes when they popped open that got his cock hard.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Tabitha snapped, her switch from contrite sub to defensive, almost hostile killer happening so quickly, he barely had time to blink. “Nothing goes near my ass. If any part of you comes near me there, I will slice it off in thin pieces and make you eat it. Tongue, fingers, cock, I don’t care, I will make sure you fucking choke on it.”

It wasn’t a surprise to find Dominic left no part of her unscathed. A man like that, who felt entitled to do what he’d done and take, take, take from innocent children wouldn’t think twice about violating her until she had nothing left.

“They hurt you,” Grit stated calmly, though it was difficult to keep his voice level. “Will you tell me how?”

Her shoulders hunched, ugly memories scrolling through her eyes like a muted movie, all shadows and darkness. “No.”

“Okay.” He nodded thoughtfully, dragging his lower lip between his teeth. “This is gonna be hard to hear, Tabby. I’m saying it anyway, because you need to know where I stand, and I’m not going to lie you.” Encouraging her to hold his gaze, he spoke quietly, firmly. “If you stick with me, stick with this, I’m going to touch you where and when I want. Not by force, not to hurt you.”

“Sex hurts,” she ground out between clenched teeth.

“You told me, I remember. Their way isn’t my way, little tiger. I don’t want to hear you scream as though I’m pulling your fingernails out. My favorite sound is the throaty, needy cries that vibrate in a woman’s throat as she comes.” Testing her, he leaned forward to rub his lips over her forehead. “The first time I ease a finger into your pussy, your ass, your brain is going to revolt. Memories of pain and torture will rain down on you because that’s what you’ve been taught to expect. It’s not unreasonable to expect you to claw, bite, kick… hell, do absolutely fucking anything to get away from me.”

“I-It’s not?”

“Of course not. Jesus Christ, Tabby, they put you through hell. Protecting yourself from going through that again is only natural.” Fuck, she made his heart ache. “Brave little tiger, you trusted me enough to start this journey. It’s my responsibility as your Dom to get you to wherever we’re going, with you feeling more at ease about yourself.”

“My ass is not on board with this plan.”

He chuckled softly, daring to brush his lips over her cheek this time. “Tabby, I really don’t think you have to worry about that right now. It might take me a year to actually touch your pussy without you freaking out.”

Mortification flushed her cheeks red. “A year’s a long time.”

“I’m starting to think I wouldn’t mind spending that much time with you.” At her startled expression, he shrugged and tugged on a lock of silky hair. “I’d be crazy to complain about having a stunning, beautifully complicated, weirdly adorable woman in my life. One predisposed to gouge my eyeballs out, no less.”

“I probably wouldn’t gouge them,” she admitted, a half-smile gracing her mouth. “I’m kind of obsessed with your eyes. Damaging them would pain me.”

Grit laughed. “Is my pretty face gonna save me from your wrath?”

“No, sorry. Once my bitch switch gets flipped, it’s mainly death and destruction until someone knocks me out.”

“Well damn, adorable and feisty. The perfect combination.”

Something like pain creased her forehead, adding cute furrows to her smooth brow. He heard her breath hitch as she inhaled. When her cold fingers lifted to his cheeks and held them, he forced himself to stay still.

Tabitha wriggled uneasily on his lap until her core rubbed against the bulge in his pants. A shudder tore through her, triggering an aftershock of trembling he felt resonate inside him.

She stunned him by touching her mouth to his, her lips quivering as she initiated a kiss all on her own. Hesitant, sweet, so unconfident in her advances that he struggled to believe she’d ever snared her victims by seduction.

One move, an involuntary twitch, and she’d skitter away.

The half-erection taunting him became a fully-fledged hard-on when her tongue traced the seam of his lips. A moan rumbled lightly in his throat, startling her, but she rallied valiantly against her nerves to take a little more.

Hands fisting beside his thighs, Grit gave her the freedom to explore. Not an easy choice for a Dom, not when he fought the urge to seize her by the hair, tilt her head back, and plunder her sexy goddamn mouth like a savage.

Yet that freedom allowed her to run her fingers through his hair, raking over his scalp before she tightened them. Clever girl, using her firm grasp to limit his movements.

Seemingly encouraged when he didn’t take control and force her hand, Tabitha attempted to deepen the kiss, her breath huffing nervously down her nose.

This wasn’t a woman who’d kissed her first love behind the bleachers at a ball game or indulged in make out sessions in the back seat of some young punk’s car. She didn’t know how to take the lead in this particular dance; all her first experiences had been stolen from her—Dominic’s desire to dominate her hadn’t taught her anything but to be afraid.

Because saying anything would halt this miracle in a heartbeat, Grit kept silent. Slowly, he parted his lips, kissing her back tentatively, little more than firm pressure and a hint of tongue. Guiding her without words, leading her without wresting the control from her hands.

Her tolerance lasted thirty seconds, but by God, they were the best thirty seconds of his life. Feeling her quiver on his lap until something snapped in her head and she jerked away, panting as though she’d just ridden him to the finish line, with sweat dotting her hairline.

Wild blue eyes met his with bewilderment before she dropped her forehead to his shoulder with a thud, shuddering as he lifted his hands to stroke the damp length of her spine through the shirt. “Trusting people isn’t in my nature. They’re pawns to move around, sources of information, future victims. Ready to stab you in the back the moment you let your guard down. Never have I ever given anyone a piece of me, not of my own free will.”

“Am I worthy of such a gift?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“I think you’re the only one who is.”

Her words struck him in the chest, more effective than any fist. Somehow, through the course of her midnight stalking and their short time together, she’d allowed herself to bond with him. A fierce bond that obviously gave her a sense of safety, yet wasn’t strong enough to grant him her full and unabashed trust.

Only a week ago, a month, the idea of being shackled to her in such a way would’ve been—to put it mildly—horrifying. Emotionally and psychologically tied to a candy-cane psychopath? Unthinkable.

Now? He was learning she was far more than he’d believed—a complicated, twisted maze of intricate insecurities, phobias, wit, strength… the list was endless, and he was of the mind that no matter how much time he spent with her, he’d never unravel her down to the core.

She was exceptional.

Flattening his hand over her chest above her breasts, Grit eased her back and took in every nuance of her face. Lips parted, breath rushing through them in hurried gusts. Lines of strain around her mouth and eyes; arousal and stress clashing together in her gaze.

“I’m honored, little tiger.” A smile threatened to come when her eyelids lowered shyly. While she didn’t identify as a Little, he’d spent enough time with Alicia, Sierra, and Callie to understand she possessed similar qualities. “Do you believe me when I say I’m proud of you?”

Was that a flush of pleasure or embarrassment staining her cheeks? “Yes?”

Grit laughed and ran his hand through her hair. Soft and so damn white, like snow threaded through with fine strands of gold. “So suspicious, Tabitha, or are you just unused to praise?”

“People don’t usually praise me,” she admitted softly. “More often than not, I get cursed out or screamed at. Dominic would only tell me I’d done good if he approved of a kill.”

“Approved how?”

She shrugged. “Level of torture, information extracted, blood spilled.”

“The more the better?”

“Nothing was too extreme for his tastes.”

Grit’s lip curled in disgust. Judging by Dominic’s treatment of his own children—the girls in particular—everything about that asshole had been extreme. Extremely fucked up. “Well, get used to being told you’re a good girl on a regular basis, little tiger. I like the way your face lights up when you hear those words.”

She made a quiet sound in her throat.

“But for now… I think it’s time for you to have some fun.”

Tabitha made a swishy motion with her hand. “My kind of fun?”

“Ah, no.”

The look she gave him brought a laugh, rich and rolling, from the depths of his belly. Wary, disbelieving, and one hundred percent suspicious.

God, she was delightful.