Hear Me

A sudden premonition that she would ruin this fragile peace left her cold. Surely she wasn’t important enough to warrant that. She was a piece of trash he found on the beach, not a treasured lover. Not his lovely pet. She shivered.

“We should head back.” Abruptly, he stood, catching me from falling off his lap with a firm grip. “Hey. Don’t worry. Everything will be just fine. You can talk to him at dinner tonight. Who knows? You two might hit it off.”

* * *

The savory smell of the steaks that Brendan had brought simmered in the air. Her mouth watered even as her stomach turned over. She was a bundle of nerves, a mass of fear. If Sam found out that Brendan had fucked her, he wouldn’t only cast her off, he would give her to Brendan.

Maybe worse than that, she had to get through a meal with Brendan. It wasn’t just what he had done to her. She had been hurt before, worse. He didn’t seem especially cruel. There was something about him that made her skin crawl with both wariness and recognition.

She slipped on the dress Sam had laid out for her, a soft purple one that flared out at her hips and ended mid-thigh. She had figured out by now that these clothes had belonged to the woman Sam had loved.

It was only a little bit creepy to wear the clothes of a dead woman. After all, the cell she inhabited had been covered in a gooey metallic substance when she arrived, and it hadn’t taken a genius to figure out what had happened. Any squeamishness she might have had in a former life was long gone.

It was more that wearing the woman’s clothes served to underline that she didn’t wear the collar too. It underlined her complete and utter lack of permanence here. He did seem to want her and had about admitted as much, which was an improvement over when she had first arrived. But that was a long cry from wanting to keep her… preferably forever. Ironically, he seemed to think she would want to leave soon, but she wouldn’t.

As she stepped out of the cabin, he turned to face her and raised his eyebrows. “You look good, subby. How are you with a knife?”

He set her up with a pile of onions and a chopping block. “Slice them thick for the grill,” he said.

She went to work, but paused to push a strand of hair back from her face with her forearm. He hadn’t included any sort of tie for her hair. The muscles of his forearm caught her eye. Her gaze traveled upward to where a lock of black hair curled over his brow. No, she didn’t want to leave, it wasn’t anything to do with how handsome he was, in his own dark way. It wasn’t because he made her feel safe. Not even because he had woken her from the prison of her own mind.

It was because he made her think of the future. She could see them together: watching him work with the wood, cooking together under the warm sunset, having kinky sex in the sweetly sticky nights. It was a fantasy, a fairy tale, but it was more. She ha

d slipped out of survival mode without even realizing it. Her thoughts weren’t consumed with avoiding the next blow or earning the next meal. Thinking back on how she’d been only a few days ago, terrified and broken—it was like waking from a nightmare, sweaty, heart-pounding.

His hand on hers startled her. “Be careful there. Can you even see anymore?”

She couldn’t, not with the tears in her eyes. The knife slipped from her fingers, and she let him take it. Trust, that’s what it was. Even with all of their power, as cowed as she was, the men at the compound would never have handed her a knife. Even then, she would have used it on them.

Sam trusted her.

“Hey. What’s this?” He pulled her in for a hug. She breathed him in, once again enclosed in him, safe with him on a hill in the woods. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Whatever it is, I’ll keep you safe.”

“Very sweet,” came Brendan’s voice, and something stirred within her, like remembrance. “Am I intruding?”

Sam had tensed when Brendan came out; he relaxed by degrees. Though he said that his brother was harmless, there was some instinct that remained wary. “Of course not,” Sam said. “The food’s almost ready. Why don’t you set the table?”

“Sure thing, brother,” Brendan said with an enigmatic smile that sent a shiver down her spine.

Even when Brendan returned inside to the table, Sam and she worked in silence, the air shimmering with tension. She carried in a plate of steaks while Sam finished grilling the vegetables.

Brendan stood when she came in and took the plate from her. “Here,” he said. “Have a seat next to me.”

She eyed the chair on the far end with longing.

“That’s no good,” Brendan chided. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. The prettiest thing I’ve seen in weeks. Months even. You wouldn’t deny me the pleasure, would you?”

Her trepidation rose at his flowery words, meant to trick and subvert.

“Ah, brother,” Brendan said. “You finally made it. Tell your girl here to have a seat before she falls over.”

Sam frowned, but he said slowly, “Sit down, subby.”

She did.

“Good.” Brendan sat beside her. “Right in the middle. We can share her.”

When Sam raised his eyebrow, Brendan merely smiled. “The sight of her lovely face. I was just telling her how long it had been for me since I had seen someone like her. Too long.”