Page 26 of Stray

“Most people didn’t run naked at gunpoint through that kind of scenery.” It slips out, and I hear his bottle drop to the floor, and I turn to look at him.

“What?” He whispers, ignoring the water spilling on his rug.

“It’s n–” I watch him come to stand closer. His hand goes out, maybe to touch my face, but he stops and pulls back, and… it kills me. It kills me because it’s exactly what I need but not what my body will allow. I want him to touch my face, call me baby, and wrap his arms around me. He has such strong arms. I bet they would feel so good if my fucking body would let it happen.

“I don’t know what to do.” He admits, and again, it kills me.

“How so?” I whisper, looking up at him through my lashes.

“Ozzy,” His voice is almost pained as he looks at me. “I don’t know how to help when I can’t get close to you. I don’t know what to say because I don’t know what happened.”

“I needed to feel safe. I… I had a flashback in my sleep, and...” I hear his sharp intake of breath when I hold my arms up to show him the scratches. “Yeah,” I let out a weak laugh. “Haven’t done this in a while.” Jackson walks to the foot of his bed and sits on the floor. I watch him slip his arms through the metal posts of the footboard.

“Alright, Tink, come on.” He jerks his head, indicating for me to go to him, and I do. I kneel in front of him and look over his naked torso. There isn’t one tattoo on his body, but my eyes find a scar on his abdomen and frown.

“What happened here?” I ask softly, and Jackson chuckles.

“I was fifteen, trying to impress a girl at a rodeo my brothers and Pops were watching. Fucked with a bull and he fucked right back.” I gasp at his story while inspecting the jagged scar closer. “It could’ve been worse. I would’ve taken the bull’s ass beating over Pop’s ass chewing once he knew I would live.” I chuckle lightly as I run my fingers over the raised skin. I watch his muscles tense, and I rip my hand away.

“I-I’m so sorry, I don’t know what–”

“It’s alright,” He chuckles lightly. “Just tickled a little.” I give him a soft, shy laugh as I move closer.

“I’m sorry–”

“Don’t be,” he interrupts, his voice low and serious. “You got to have someone you can trust, Tink. If this is what has to be done to help you, then I’ll do it.”

“Why?” I manage to get out, and he attempts to shrug.

“Because you’ve done a lot for me and my family. You saved my boys. You stayed with Pops despite what very well could’ve been the end. You gave without question, and you deserve someone to do the same for you, Ozzy.” Leaning in, I wrap my arms around him while burying my face in his neck, trying my best not to cry on him again. I feel his cheek pressing against mine again, and I revel in the feeling of it. The bristle of his beard, the feel of his breath on my jaw, and his clean smell. I want this, god I want him.

This is a bad, bad idea, Ozzy. You’ve been so careful. What in the fuck are you doing?

I hear my inner voice screaming at me, but for once, I don’t listen. Pulling my head back, I look into his warm eyes. They flick down to my neck before returning to meet my gaze again. I take a breath before straddling his thighs, deciding that he deserves to know something about my past.

Running my hand over my neck, I open my mouth. “I was drugged at a bar,” I say through the lump in my throat. “They took me and… kept me. One of the ways they made sure I couldn’t leave or misbehave was a correction collar they forced me to wear. It was modified and sharpened to stay pierced in my skin, and when it was tightened, or they jerked on my leash…” I trail off as the thought of the collar ripping my throat flashes through my mind. “Well, I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Ozzy…” He whispers, and I know he’s trying to meet my gaze, but I can’t look at the pity that I’m sure is there.

“So yeah,” I say, trying to muster up the strength to put my emotions away. “I got out of there and was pretty bad off, lots of scars…I didn’t want to look at something so ugly, so…” I gesture to my tattoos.

“Nothing about you is ugly,” his firm voice causes me to look up and meet his gaze. What I find isn’t pity or disgust. He looks protective. Caring. “Tink, you are so beautiful, tattoos, scars, all of it. Those scars aren’t ugly. They prove that you survived something ugly; you came out the other side, which is beautiful.” I don’t know what comes over me as I lean forward and crash my lips against his. His mouth opens on a gasp. Taking advantage of his open mouth, I slip my tongue between his lips and feel a jolt run through my body at the feel of him. Jackson caresses my tongue with his. It’s so soft and kind, and I can’t help but whimper against his mouth as I press myself closer, needing more. I run my hand through his hair, gripping it tightly and earning a growl that shoots right into my core. Fucking hell, when was the last time a man made me feel this way?

“Stupid slut, you don’t want to beg, I’ll just bite those lips off.”

Hugh’s voice causes me to gasp, and I shove away from Jackson, scooting back on my butt until I’m pressed against the opposite wall. “Oh my god,” I pant, eyes wide. Jackson stares at me with equally wide eyes. “I-I got to go,” I say, jumping to my feet.

“W-what? Ozzy, Ow!” He curses as he tries to stand, but in his haste, he must’ve forgotten his arms are tangled in the posts.

“I-I’m so sorry,” I whisper while running out of the room and down the stairs. I am about to go to my room but stop, knowing Jackson will follow me. Grabbing my purse, I run out the door just in time to see Jackson leaving his room. I jump into Gretchen before starting her up and racing down the long driveway. I don’t know where I’m going, but I know I’ve got to get away from here.

* * *

“Ozzy,” Indy hisses over my nearly dead phone. “You can’t just leave them. Morris needs–”

“I know,” I snap, breaking off another of my fake nails with my mouth and spitting it across the car. They were going to have to come off anyway. They were getting ridiculously long. “I’m going to go back. I just… the flashbacks are bad right now, Indy.” I admit while popping off the last nail.

I hear Derek in the background grumbling to Indy about it being three in the morning. “Stop being so old,” she sighs. “Now, I get that it’s scary, Ozzy, but Jackson is a good guy.”

---