And then he smiles, and his whole face changes. For a split second, I feel safe, but then I remember I’m chained up like a dog, and all faith leaves me.
“You’re awake.”
His voice matches the rest of him, a baritone that rumbles in his chest with enough power to shake the building we’re in. His presence fills the room, sucking up all the oxygen. It leaves me light-headed, and the earlier nausea returns. I breathe slowly through my nose to try to quell the awful sickness in my stomach and follow him with my eyes as he reaches me in two large strides. He perches on the end of the bed, and my whole body braces.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he says, surprising me with how gentle he sounds. “I’m sorry about the restraints. They’re for your own safety.”
I snort, and then my eyes widen in horror, and I flinch, bracing for a slap, a punch, a vicious twist of my nipple, or a fist shoved inside me.
But he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he unscrews the top on a plastic bottle of water and, supporting my head, lets me drink. With my dry throat lubricated, I sink back into the pillow. Only then do I notice how soft it is.
He sets the bottle of water on the floor beside his feet and returns his gaze to me.
“How’s the pain? I gave you a shot last night, but it must be wearing off by now.”
“Who are you?” I ask. There’s something faintly familiar about him, but I am certain we’ve never met. He’s… unforgettable. Intimidating. Scary as hell. There’s not a chance I’d bump into a man like him and simply forget the encounter.
“Name’s Hawk.”
“Hawk.” I frown. “Like a codename or something.”
He laughs. “No, that’s actually my real name. I think my dad was drunk at the time.”
The thought of this hulk of a man having parents just doesn’t sit right, nor does the idea of him as a small baby. It’s like he was born a giant and never went through the growing stage.
“Where am I?”
“My place in the Rockies. About four hours north of Denver.”
I now realize that he’s willing to answer my questions but won’t volunteer any information. If I want answers, I’m going to have to make sure I frame the right questions.
“Why am I here?”
He picks up a lock of my hair and feeds it through his fingers. I try not to recoil. He’s being kind right now, but at any minute, he might turn on me, and I fear the consequences if he does.
“I’m sorry about what happened to you.”
I squeeze my eyes closed as the image of evil crowds my mind once more. The idea of living with the memories of last night, knowing they have the ability to hold me prisoner at will, causes a tear to leak from the corner of my eye. When I open them again, he’s staring at me with an expression I can only describe as deeply sorrowful.
“It wasn’t supposed to go down like that. If I could have saved you from what he did, I would have.”
Anger and a terrible, crippling fear send my body shooting into flight mode, and I try to scramble away, but I can’t. I can’t because this man has me shackled to the bed.
“Let me go!” I scream, yanking on my restraints.
His large hands grip my shoulders, and he leans halfway over me, pinning me down with his huge frame. It’s like trying to throw off a slab of granite, and without hands to punch with or feet to kick out, he subdues me in seconds.
“Calm down, Calla.”
The use of my name makes me freeze. “You know my name?” I whisper.
He lifts himself off me, although his eyes are wary, on the lookout for another imminent meltdown.
“I know everything about you, Calla. I’ve watched you for a while now, but what happened last night was a mistake. You weren’t supposed to fall into their hands. The man who stole you from me and caused your suffering paid dearly for his error in judgment. No one takes what’s mine without there being deathly consequences.”
There’s so much to process that I find I can’t do much more than rapidly blink while my brain figures it all out.
“Who are you really? Who are those men? Please tell me. I have to know.”
He stands, and I think I’ve pushed him too far. But then he unfastens first my left ankle and then my right before moving on to my wrists.
He’s letting me go?
I don’t move. I lie completely still, waiting for… actually, I don’t know what I’m waiting for.
Fear and panic and hopefulness propel me to my feet, but I barely make it two steps before my legs collapse beneath me. Landing in a heap on the floor, I start to crawl toward the door.
He picks me up as easily as lifting a feather, and although I strike out with my fists and kick my legs, my blows bounce off him harmlessly. It’s like pounding on a rock face. The only person getting hurt is me.
I fully expect him to chain me up again, but he doesn’t. Instead, he sits on the bed with me in his lap and holds me. Confused by his actions, I don’t know what to think. He holds me, rocks me, whispers soothing words that I can’t take in through the shock of his gentleness. The small fightback has left me exhausted, though, and despite the fear simmering beneath the surface, I find I’m oddly comforted, too.
Once I’m calm, he lifts me off him and sets me back on the bed. Drawing my knees up to my chest, I warily watch him. He stands and holds out his hand.
“Let’s get you fed and sort out some medication for the pain, and then I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
Chapter Six
Hawk
I
