Heather's Gift (Men of August 3)

“Fuck!” he snapped out, shaking his head to clear it of the dreamlike memories. “Just tell me what the fuck happened. Tell me, Cade, so I can remember.”

“I killed him. And I’ll do it again if I have to, Sam. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect us this time. This time, I won’t fail any of you.” Cade’s voice was a broken, ragged sound of pain as he turned and stalked from the barn.

“God damn.” Sam turned, his fist plowing into the bale of hay behind him, the force so extreme that the bales trembled, shuddered as his hand bounced back.

His chest heaved with his breaths as he fought for control, fought to make sense of the foggy memories that assaulted him at will.

“The bastard will destroy us again,” he whispered to himself, hearing his hoarse whisper as it settled in the air around him. “And once again, it’s my fault. All my fault.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Feigning sleep had never been one of Heather’s strong suits. But she had done just that as she lay and listened to Cade and Sam’s argument. After the older brother left, Sam’s torn, ragged cry had her heart clenching in pain. The shadows in his eyes, the dark nightmares, it all made sense now. And as she lay there, drifting in exhaustion and worry, a horrifying suspicion began to bloom within her mind. She could feel the seeds of knowledge ripening, and she hated it. Hated the truth she knew was being hidden from the man she loved. A truth she didn’t want to face herself.

Finally, after long moments, she heard him sigh and move. She almost jerked in surprise as he wrapped the robe around her then turned her over and picked her up in his arms. Strength and heat surrounded her. Safety. She was safe. She had never quite known this feeling in anyone’s arms before, especially a man’s. Men were generally intent on release from what she had seen from other relationships. Tenderness was merely a bribe to get them there, quickly forgotten when the end had been achieved.

But he was tender. Careful to hide her nakedness, to hold her in arms that lacked the rough dominance of his sexual embrace. Not that she would dare protest that embrace. Despite the exhaustion and the lingering aches in her body, the pleasure had been more than worth it. He had taken her higher than she had ever dreamed she could go. Pushed her to limits she would have sworn she didn’t possess. And now, he was tender.

If she had the strength she would have blushed when she felt Sam step up to the porch and heard Rick’s muttered curse as the front door opened. Sam ignored him and strode quickly through the house and up the stairs. Within seconds he was opening a door and closing it quietly behind him.

Surprise rushed through her as she opened her eyes lazily and recognized her own room. She stared up at Sam as he tucked the blankets over her and stood looking down at her. His eyes were still shadowed, his face drawn into lines of somber regret.

“Sam?” She whispered his name, confused now.

“I’m sorry.” He sat beside her slowly, a sigh shuddering from his body as he stared down at the floor.

“For what?” She kept her voice quiet, fought to keep him with her.

He raised his head and breathed in deeply, though he still didn’t look at her. He stared at the wall, seeing the past, or his own fears, she wondered. His profile was shadowed, his broad shoulders straight and tense, though she suspected the weight that dragged at them.

“For hurting you. For restraining you.” He wiped his hands over his face and shook his head as his jaw clenched violently. “I’m as bad as the fucking monster that destroyed us, Heather.”

She could feel the violence vibrating in the air around them. The restrained hunger, like a dark, powerful beat in her blood, still throbbed in his voice. She knew what the nightmares of the past did to these strong men. Had watched it for over a year. Sam would fight within himself until he restrained it as tightly as possible. He would put up the barriers at all costs, and he would try to smooth the worry or the fear that he felt he was causing.

“Sam.” She sat up, desperate to touch him, to take away the bleak pain that resonated from him. To help him face the demons that were rising from within the lost memories.

“Don’t touch me, Heather.” He caught her hand, staring at her then, and the hard, slate gray gaze had her gasping in concern. She had never seen Sam’s eyes so dark, so ridden with shadows.

He released her wrist carefully as he laid her hand on her thigh. Each move was carefully coordinated, the muscles in his hand and arm tense from the hold he had on whatever urges were driving him.

“Sam, tell me what to do,” she said softly, fighting her tears, her need to comfort where she knew there was no hope of it.

He watched her silently, almost calculatingly. It was as though he were gauging her sincerity, her needs.

“Why did you stay here?” he finally asked, his voice rough. Angry. “Your life is in danger and you live with the knowledge that in accepting a relationship with me could mean accepting one with my brothers as well. Is that what you want, Heather?”

Fury pulsed in the air around him, a carefully contrived insult, Heather thought, delivered to her heart. She nearly flinched in response.

“Why are you hiding again?” she asked him instead, fighting to keep the hurt from her tone. “Every time I get close to you, Sam, you throw up the same barriers. You know, this was my first time with a man, rather than a vibrator. The least you could do is lay down beside me, maybe hold me for a while. Or have I just been relegated to a line in a little black book? Maybe under the header: August Plaything Wannabe?”

His eyes narrowed in surprise before he shook his head, a sarcastic snort of laughter coming from his throat.

“You want to be in there?” he bit out. “I could put you in there, baby, if that’s the position you’re looking for. But you have a hell of a lot to learn before you’re up to taking on all of us.”

“Learn?” The inelegant snort was deliberately pulsing with sarcasm. “Really, Sam. What’s there to learn? Say ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ and ‘up the ass please, sir?’”

His eyes narrowed further, his body shuddering once, hard as she watched him fight for control.

“You’re dangerous to yourself,” he bit out. “And I’ll be damned if I’ll sit here and listen to you bait me.”