"Baby, just come to me. Two steps. I'll do the rest, but you have to take those two steps."
There was no give in his voice--or his eyes. He was implacable, and she had no idea what would happen when she did what he said and took those two steps toward him. Still, she obeyed the command in his voice, in his eyes, moving toward the side of the bed, not looking away from him, but no longer seeing him. Not when her vision was totally blurred. She felt a trickle of wetness making its way down her cheek.
She felt as if she were giving herself to him with every step she took. Letting him take the last little part of herself that she guarded so carefully. Her throat closed, but she forced her body to move, because if she didn't, she would lose everything. She would have nothing. She couldn't live like that anymore, believing she was worthless. That child in the laboratory, in a tiny little cell with eyes staring at her all the time. She had to be more, and she had to have someone see that she was more. That someone had to be this man.
Trap's fingers shackled her wrist as she lifted her hand to wipe at the drops. He tugged until she was forced to put a knee on the bed. Then she was up on the bed with him. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't catch air. Her throat was too clogged, and her eyes burned like hell.
"Don't, baby," he whispered.
There it was. That voice. His beautiful, sensual voice that caressed her skin, but more, slid deep inside to caress her empty heart. He could fill her with just his voice. Give her an anchor, something to hold on to when she was being tossed around in the wind like so much silk. Instinctively, she knew he didn't use that tone on anyone else. Just her.
"I could have really hurt you," she confessed, a hitch in her voice. Her throat was so tight she could barely squeeze words out.
"You didn't," he assured, dragging her down over his chest, pressing her face into his neck. Showing no fear in spite of the fact that she'd bitten him. Injected venom. She couldn't detect the least bit of fear. None.
Everyone was afraid of her. She couldn't remember a time that anyone came near her without elevated heart rates and weapons close. Even when she'd been a child. She had often watched every member of the Fontenot household--even the scariest of them--cuddling the triplets. Holding them close, just as Trap was holding her.
Her body lay curled over his chest. Her front to his front. She straddled him, her legs on either side of him, pressed tight to his ribs. She took up his entire chest, her face in his neck, breathing him in, pulling him straight into her lungs. Her heart pounded harder than ever and blood roared in her ears, but she didn't move, because the storm kept building and she knew it was going to be terrible.
She held herself very still. Fight or flee? She didn't know what to do. He was warm and his hand was soothing in her hair. He was comforting, like Nonny's room, only better. His arms went around her, holding her close, not demanding anything from her. Not speaking, but he began to hum softly. Like Nonny's music box, only better. He had a beautiful pitch to his voice. She'd never really heard anything that beautiful in person before and she knew it was only for her.
Cayenne loved his speaking tone, but found his music voice even better. She closed her eyes because she couldn't help herself. She was completely vulnerable to him in that moment and she knew it. She just didn't care. All the fight was out of her. She just needed. Trap. She needed Trap. She was giving herself to him and she knew it, and she was acutely aware that he knew it as well. She allowed the last bit of feral spider in her to move aside enough to let the soft notes Trap hummed to penetrate until she stopped shivering.
The storm broke, wild and uninhibited, yet quietly, sobs welling up uncontrollably, terrible, from her heart. From her soul. Her fingers curled into his shoulders and she pressed her face tighter against his neck while the storm took her.
Her eyes leaked tears and she wasn't certain why, only that she felt safe enough in his arms, there in the dark, to shed them. She had years of tears stored up, so she was very happy when the humming turned to words and he sang softly to her, stroking soothing caresses through her hair and down her back. She could spend a lifetime right there, letting the tears flow, listening to his voice and feeling the warmth of his body against hers while his hands moved through her hair and massaged the nape of her neck.
Trap held Cayenne as close to him as humanly possible and just let her cry. He'd never held a weeping woman in his life, but from the moment he'd touched his mind to hers, outside in the hallway, when he'd heard the first hesitant Trap, he'd known she needed him with the same intensity as he needed her. Maybe it was for different reasons, but he wasn't alone in this and that was all he needed to know.
This wasn't just about the explosive chemistry between them. Right in that moment, the only thing in his mind was to hold and comfort her. To find ways to show her what life with him was going to be. He wanted to give her everything he could possibly give her. She deserved that. She'd never had anything and she would never expect anything from him.
He knew what greed was. He had far too much money pouring into his accounts every minute of every day. He'd worked for it, but still, thanks to the magazines making him one of the most eligible bachelors in the world, the write-ups on him, the disclosure that he was a billionaire several times over, women threw themselves at him.
Trap was often rude. Beyond rude. He'd developed that as a form of protection and now it was ingrained in him. He was demanding in bed because he knew he could be, and then he kicked the women out, refusing to allow any woman to sleep in the same bed with him. He never took them home with him. Never. None of the women had any idea who he was, or even cared to know. They knew about his bank account and that was enough for them.
Cayenne had no idea about bank accounts and whether or not he had money. She could care less. She was alone. Afraid. Different. A throwaway. He'd been thrown away by his father and uncles. He had trust issues and recognized that Cayenne had those same issues deeply ingrained in her.
He hated that she was weeping as if her heart had broken, but he was grateful she'd come to him. That she'd given him that. She had handed him something precious. He knew he was a bull in a china shop when it came to relationships, but he read books and he observed carefully. No detail got past him. And he had instincts. He had always relied on his instincts.
Cayenne was vulnerable to him--and only him. She would never show this side of herself to any of the other men no matter how much she was hurt. He had that from her. That raw honesty. That soft spot. The truth that was her heart, and he would protect it with everything in him.
"All right, baby," he crooned. "You're going to make yourself sick. If Nonny wakes up and hears you crying, she'll be in here like a shot. She'll box my ears and take you under her wing. I like holding you when you need it, so I don't want that to happen."
She continued to weep but much more silently.
He smiled at the ceiling and tunneled his fingers in the thick mass of hair. Silky soft just like her skin. A man would get lost in that hair. "I'll admit asking for that might be a little selfish. I want to be the man you turn to when things get all out of whack for you. I want you to feel safe with me and not anyone else."
Her hand moved. She'd laid on him without moving a single muscle, almost as if her body had melted into his. Now, her hand stroked down his shoulder, over his biceps. He felt that touch burn through sinew into bone.
"I don't know where to go, Trap. I know that's your home, not mine. But I don't know where to go," she whispered, choking out the admission.
His hold tightened on her and he found himself frowning. "Is that what this storm is all about? Baby, I had that apartment built for you. I chose every piece of furniture down there. For you. It belongs to you."
He heard--and felt--her breath hitch. Very slowly she lifted her head, her tear-drenched green eyes searching his blue ones. "Trap." She whispered his name. Disbelieving. "You did?"
"What the hell am I going to do with all that girlie shit, baby? I knew you were using the bas
ement. I don't like you in it, but I reinforced the walls against flooding just in case. Still, eventually, I hope to lure you upstairs with me. I'm giving you fair warning about that. I want you in my bed, and I'm not going to play bullshit games. Right now, you need your space, and I'm going to give it to you as long as I can. So yeah, that apartment is all yours. I won't go down there unless you invite me."
"Really?"
This time her voice was breathless. The sound shot straight to his cock. He was stark naked and he didn't need that happening. Not now. Not when she needed reassurance and a gentle hand. He wasn't a gentle lover. He was demanding. As bossy and as abrupt in bed as he was outside of it. He didn't want to scare her away.
"I just said it. I don't like bullshit, Cayenne. When you want or need something, you have to come out and tell me. I'll do the same. I don't want you robbing people. I want you safe, with a roof over your head. I want you warm with food in your belly. I don't have a clue what women need in the clothes department, so I'm setting up a little safe in the kitchen. It'll always have cash in it. You need something, either put it on a list and I'll do my best, or take the cash and buy what you need."
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. Her cheeks were wet and splotchy. He thought she was beautiful. He had to fight the urge to kiss her.
"I don't know how to do that. Or where to go to do it. I've never left the swamp," she confessed. "I stole these clothes off a line, and I'm always afraid I'll run into the woman and she'll know I took them even though I left her money twice."
She sounded ashamed. He had hoped he could get her to see that stealing was wrong. He realized she knew stealing was wrong, but she'd been desperate. He didn't like her feeling ashamed.
"Don't worry, honey, we'll go into town together and get you clothes. You're a fast learner and I have no doubt you'll learn all about shopping."
She blinked rapidly, her dark lashes fluttering, drawing his attention to their length. Beautiful. He loved her face. He could look at it forever. Perfect symmetry. High cheekbones. Oval shape. That generous, generous mouth with her bowed lips. Small straight nose. Her large, fuck-me-all-night eyes surrounded by long, feathery lashes.
"I don't like to go where there are a lot of people. That's why I chose the Huracan Club to hunt--that and they have peanuts for free and he sells burgers. There weren't a lot of people to choose from to rob, but I can't control or manipulate a large group of people with my voice and I didn't feel safe out in the open. The club was deep in the swamp."
"We'll get you past that, Cayenne. That's one thing we're going to do. Make certain you feel safe. You'll have to know what's coming at you now."
She blinked again. "Coming at me?"
"You're mine. You gave yourself to me, and I'll be damned if I let you take that gift back. You can have time, baby, but you don't have a lot of time. I told you I'd tell you about my life when you're lying next to me in bed, and I will. But you have to know now that I have enemies and they'll come after you to hurt me. Caring about you makes me vulnerable. I haven't been vulnerable in a long time, not since they murdered my aunt when I was very young."
"Why do you care about me?"
He should have known she would dismiss the danger. Cayenne wasn't afraid. She had all the confidence in the world as a warrior. She didn't have confidence in herself as a woman--a human woman.
His fingers tightened in her hair. Fisted. Forced her head back exactly where he wanted it, his eyes boring into hers. Claiming her. Possessive. She needed to see that about him. He didn't let many people into his life, but he was utterly loyal to those he did. He had never claimed a woman for his own, had never wanted one enough to risk her or to fight for her, but all that had changed.
He was fierce in battle. Ice-cold, but ferocious and relentless. He'd learned every skill he could so he was always prepared for anything. Prepared for this moment. This claiming. His woman. The woman he never believed he'd have.
"I'll never let you go, Cayenne. You'll be as much a prisoner with me as you were in that cell. I can teach you to live life large. To live it free. But I won't let you go. We have trouble, you don't like something, baby, you'll have to learn to talk to me. I'll do everything in my power to make you happy, but you're mine, you stay mine."
She frowned. She didn't look afraid of him, but then, she was a spider, a woman who could slip in and out of places and she didn't realize he wasn't talking about physical captivity. He knew her mind would go there first.
Trap shook his head. "I'm not talking about locking you up, baby. I'm talking about keeping your heart. Holding you close to me always. Never giving you back your heart. Never. You give me that, I'll keep it safe, but I won't return it."
She laid her head back down on his shoulder, turning her face into his neck. He felt her breath. He lost her eyes, but her body had once again melted into his. Her tongue tasted his skin right under his jaw. A tentative touch, but that told him she was curious. More than curious. She had a need just the same as his.
He had to be patient. He had to let that need build until she came to him. He couldn't take it from her. Too much had already been taken. He needed to be the one that gave her whatever she needed or wanted. Give her everything she could want or need until she understood that she was safe with him and that he was real and his caring was real.
"I don't think that's such a bad thing, Trap," she whispered against his jaw. Softly. Clearly trying to puzzle out what could be the deception--the con--he was running on her.
She was in his mind. He felt her there, a soft little presence, clinging when she didn't notice that she was. It was intense to have someone sharing one's mind. To feel them gently pouring into every shadow, those dark places where insanity lurked. He knew she couldn't help but feel his sincerity--or hear the honesty in his voice. She didn't trust it, and he didn't blame her. He had to earn that.
"I want to show you what it's like to have a family. To live in a house and laugh and love. I want that for you. I didn't have it very long, but I did have it. I want the chance to make that happen for you. I started with the apartment because I want you to feel you always have your own space. Even when we're together, when you're living with me and sleeping in my bed, when you need it, that apartment will be there."
He turned his head and brushed her forehead with his mouth. "Just remember, baby, once you share my bed, that's where you'll sleep. Right beside me."
She was very still, stroking his arm, her fingers absently tracing little patterns over his muscles there. "Why? Why would you want that?"
"I want to be able to hold you just like this. You have a bad day, I need to be there for you. I have one, I want your arms around me." His hand shaped the nape of her neck. Slid down her spine to the curve of her bottom. "I want to reach for you in the middle of the night. It takes a lot to keep my cock happy, baby, and I'm fairly certain with you there, ready for me, for the first time in my life, I won't be thinking about fucking every minute of the day because you will have satisfied me. I swear, Cayenne, I'll do everything in my power to keep you satisfied."
She was silent, absorbing the information. Still unsure of him. Still nervous about giving herself to him, but knowing she already had. He felt that. He knew she wasn't rescinding, only feeling her way.
"Everything is new to me, Trap," she confessed. "I lived in a cell and had minimum contact with people. All my training was done in closed environments because they were afraid I'd escape and be let loose on the world. They were right to be afraid, I would have. But just like now, I wouldn't have known what to do. I might have even gone back. I don't understand about family or relationships. I don't know the first thing about a home or how to make one or be in one. I don't know how to support myself or anyone else. I don't know how to please you that way at all."
He groaned softly. "Baby, you kiss like sin. That's a good thing. Hot and wild, just like I need. You light up for me. Catch fire. That's all you. Eve
rything else, I can teach you. I know what I'm doing. I want that chance as well. You've got instincts, Cayenne, good ones. You burn for me when you get close. I have no doubt you'll please me and I'll please you. I tend to be very good at giving instructions and telling a woman what I want from them. I'll want you to do the same."
She turned her face into the hollow of his shoulder and bit down gently. "I don't like that."
He held himself still. He didn't want her agitated where she might really bite him again before he had the chance to build enough antibodies in his system against her particular type of toxin. He was absolutely certain he could find a way to do that.
"Don't like what?" he murmured, keeping his voice gentle.
"The idea of other women with you." She lifted her head again, her green gaze searching his blue one. "Why is that? I mean, I really don't like it. My stomach just got tight and I felt the venom wanting to be released. Also, the thought kind of hurts."
He wanted to smile at her voice. That thoughtful, interested tone, with just a small note of annoyance. "Of course you wouldn't like the idea of me with other women. I don't like the idea of you being close to other men. Didn't you notice I was really upset when Pascal put his hand on your ass?"
She nodded, not taking her eyes from his. Not blinking. Looking for the information she needed and trying to understand. "Yes, I knew that upset you, but I didn't know why. When you got all snarly with me, I tried to figure it out, but nothing made sense to me."
"Men and women often have multiple sex partners, but not when they make a commitment to each other." He searched for the right words. "You belong to me, and I belong to you. That's the commitment. The promise we give each other. That means, I don't fuck other women and you sure as hell don't fuck other men." He couldn't keep the growl out of his voice. He had animal DNA and he was an alpha. The idea of another man putting his cock in her was more than he could take.
She nodded her head but she was frowning almost in confusion. It was a point he didn't want there to be any confusion over. None.