Page 57 of Recurve Ridge

Will caught my wrist and levered up, stealing my space. I shuffled back, but his other hand clamped at my waist, holding me in place.

“Don’t ask what I can’t tell you, Mari.” His voice strained, he leaned forward, rubbing his nose against mine.

Warmth sank into my skin where he held me, his body arced over mine, gaze darkening. The boy disappeared in a blink, replaced with the sort of unyielding man who prickled my skin, and my breaths shortened.

“What can’t you tell me?” I forced myself to stay still despite the tingles that raced over my arms, his mouth so close that if he tipped his head, he’d kiss me.

A deep rumble filled his throat. “Christ, you smell like strawberries.” Releasing me, he pushed back and resumed his position on the blanket, staring unblinkingly at the clear, pale sky.

“I thought you liked strawberries?” I frowned, trying to put the complex man I’d mistakenly assumed was a simple soul back together in my head.

“I do. That’s the problem.” His hand shot out to squeeze my wrist in a quick, intimate gesture that left my heart thudding in my chest.

“Oh.” My pulse fluttered beneath his too-fast touch. I tucked my fingers together, making a basket for the berries he’d given me.

His phone buzzed. He wrenched it out of his pocket, exhaling a sharp breath. “They’re back. Let me sleep for thirty minutes, and then I’ll take you back to Robe.”

I nodded, though his eyes closed too fast to see it, and stared at the waterfall.

But what if I want to stay here with you?

The cascading water gave me no answers.

Within seconds Will snored beside me. I ate my strawberries, wishing I could curl up at his side, and told my confused, traitorous heart to shut it.

* * *

The next severaldays continued in the same pattern. Each morning I pushed myself out of Robe’s bed and dressed, ignoring the remaining scars and shadows of bruises beneath my skin I still saw no matter how much they faded and the shame I saw every time I glanced in the mirror by accident. My household of sexy captors forced me to eat amazing food, drink good coffee and better tea, and plied me with alcohol under Robe and Jon’s strict supervision.

Alan’s absence left a void in the house. His lighthearted jokes, flirting with everything in sight… I missed him. We all did, but at least they knew where he’d gone.

I spent days out with Jon learning the forest, or Miller took me to train while Robe shot nearby or chopped wood. Fresh-cut pine would forever hit the top of my favorite scents list. I’d never thought of woodsmen as attractive before, but muscles and fresh sweat and pine needles did it for me.

Also soap.

The longer Alan stayed away, the further Robe retreated into himself. Nevertheless, his brooding presence skyrocketed, filling the cabin until I found myself tongue-tied when he looked my way, communicating through a rare touch or conversations behind closed doors where my invitation didn’t extend.

Every night I fell asleep in his arms, his bulk the foil to my nightmares, though they had nothing on the hole in my heart that remained from the night he stayed away. How much I relied on him terrified and healed me all at once. When I woke, a scream lodged in my throat and phantom hands trailing over my body, he secured my flailing limbs with a gentle but firm hold, lulling me back to a land where the phantoms reached out but couldn’t touch me unless they were his.

My hours dwindled in a timeless fashion. I learned more about Robe, Jon, and the two younger men through listening to their conversations. Maybe professional eavesdropping could be my new thing when I got to… wherever life took me.After. With no place in mind, I headed toward a gray destination yet to take form.

When that boredom suddenly changed, I wished I’d never whined about it at all.

At breakfast on the fourth morning after the boys had returned from their mission or whatever the hell they’d been up to, heavy footsteps resonated outside the house that were so different from the footfalls of our sole absentee, they drew every eye.

“Do you get visitors?” I whispered as Robe and Jon took up position on either side of the doorframe.

Miller withdrew a matte black handgun from beneath the bar and sighted the entry. “No.”

“Fuck me.” Robe glanced out the side window and whipped the door open in time to catch the bundle that collapsed inside.

Alan lay on the floor, panting in short, staccato breaths, covered in dark fluid. Dirt or something else crusted his temple, and his hair stuck out at all angles. Deep circles hung beneath his eyes, and his skin had paled into an unhealthy, sallow hue.

“Alan!” I grabbed a cloth off the bar and shot beneath Robe’s arms. His quick intake behind me said I’d crossed a line, but I didn’t care. “Jesus, where are you—never mind. What happened?” I dabbed at his face, trying to locate the source of the injury.

“It’s not mine. Mari, stop.” Alan caught my wrist and pressed it to his chest over his heart. “I’m not hurt, sweetcakes. Just exhausted.”

“This”—I waved my dirty cloth to encompass his entire body dripping fluids, some of which looked like blood—“qualifies as hurt.”

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