His Only Hope: The Maison Chronicles, Book 2 (7 page)

Garnering every piece of willpower she possessed, she managed to turn on the steps and make her way upward. One foot in front of the other, one inch at a time, she finally found herself on the second floor, but the memories still suffocated. Her pulse thundered in her ears and she could feel the blood beating against her wrists and neck.

My Liege, I’ve been a good girl. My Liege, please make love to me.

Room 209 loomed in front of her. Not remembering and not caring how she’d made it to her room, she fumbled for her key and unlocked the door.

Hell, she’d been so wrong to keep this from her therapist.

“Gabe,” she gasped before she was sucked back in time by the memories.

Chapter Six

Gabe toyed with his glass, watching snow fall outside his bedroom balcony doors. So much for leaving early. He’d been tentatively optimistic about this weekend, but he’d gone and fucked that up. So stupid, pushing her about that scar, but he couldn’t let it go. Just like he’d pushed too much in their relationship.

She needed a keeper, dammit, and here he was, ready to reapply for the job. Only she wouldn’t admit to needing it. And if he were being honest, maybe she didn’t now. Maybe she had made that much progress.

With a sigh, he set down his water and fell into the posh leather chair facing the balcony. Good thing he’d brought paperwork with him. At least the weekend wouldn’t be a total loss.

But that would have to wait until he’d talked to Kat. He owed Hope this recommendation. Grabbing his key card from the little table by the door, he braced himself for seeing Hope. His mind flashed to the worst-case scenario—Hope with another Top for the weekend—and he didn’t like that one bit. He relaxed his jaw, shook the tension from his shoulders, and let the door click shut behind him.
Always closing doors, huh.

With an angry mental shove, he slammed a door in the face of his guilty conscience.
See how she likes door slamming now.

Halfway to the stairs, an open door across and down a story caught his attention. Prickles crept up his spine. He stepped to the rail for a closer look, but he didn’t truly need it. He recognized that blue button-up, and only one woman had such red hair. He hauled ass around the third-story balcony and down the flight of stairs to Hope’s room, his heart racing like he’d wiped out on his bike.

She lay sprawled in the entry of her suite, hair falling across her face like strands of blood. He dropped to her side, only taking a full, relieved breath when he felt her pulse. He closed the door, knowing she’d not want anyone to see her like this.

He brushed her hair away and undid the top two buttons of her blouse to cool her down and make sure she didn’t have anything constricting her chest. After Hope’s previous collapse, which had scared the almighty shit out of him, he’d gathered information like a madman in case it ever happened again.

Every health issue he’d researched, every diagnosis he’d read flew across his mind, a film reel in fast-forward, and the tension mounted in his chest unlike anything he’d felt before. With gentle hands, he stroked her cheek.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice sounded tired, deadened.

“You left your door open,” he said, reaching his hand out to hers inch by inch. “You had me worried.” Hell, he still was.

“Oh. Thank you.” She moved to rise but didn’t get far before pausing. Her eyes darted to him then to the floor. “I seem to be having trouble… My legs…” Her jaw clenched so hard he thought he could hear her teeth grinding.

“Well, it just so happens that I’m in the business of helping damsels in distress.” Her tenuous smile reassured him. He slipped his arms under her back and knees and lifted her from the floor. God, it felt good to have her back in his arms, to be helping instead of frustrating her. “Couch or bed?”

“Couch, please.” Her words were muffled by his shirt. She had buried her face against his chest and, boy, did that boil the fear from his veins. He deposited her on the deep green couch, missing her warmth as soon as it was gone.

He rubbed his shirt where her head had rested. “Is there anything else I can do?” He wanted to make her talk about what happened.

She cleared her throat and ducked her head. “Don’t leave.”

“I’ll stay as long as you need, sweetheart.”

She was putting on a brave front, but he could feel the tiny tremors racking her body. He sat on the couch and stroked her hair. She’d always liked that during aftercare, for about two seconds before she decided she was done. It had always felt as if she were humoring him, allowing post-session cuddles to make him feel better.

Her eyes squeezed shut. “I’m cold,” she whispered.

He laid a hand against her cheek and it chilled him. He pulled the blanket from under the solid oak coffee table and wrapped her in it, thankful Kat kept thoughtfully stocked rooms. She tucked her head down and away from him. He tried not to feel hurt, but that failed as completely as the rest of his day had.

The room was silent as he slid one arm around her back and wrapped the other around her waist. Snow, illuminated by the balcony lights, fell in big, fat flakes to pile on the metal scrollwork railing.

“Snow’s coming down hard. Looks like no one will be leaving early this weekend.”

A strangled laugh worked free of her tight lips. “He’s here and I’m stuck.”

Alarm bells shrieked in his head but he silenced them, keeping his focus on soothing Hope. He ran his hand in circles across her back, worming his way under the blanket and then her blouse to touch bare skin. He buried his face in her neck and reveled in her sweet smell. Lavender, still.

He hardened in spite of the situation. Not the right time or place. Or woman, he reminded himself. “Baby, who’s here?”

“Master Joseph.”

A wave of hatred swamped him.

Gabe stayed silent, hoping she’d spill some information for once. “C’mere, baby, lie back.” She obliged and he enveloped her in his arms, watching the snow drift down.

This could have been heaven in other circumstances.

Her words broke the silence, but just barely. “He was my Master when I was young and stupid.”

He bit back a growl and waited for the rest.

“I was eighteen and he seemed so worldly. He guided me and protected me, at first. I felt loved.”

Her words made him burn with anger and jealousy.

“And then he said the real work was starting, that he needed to break me before I’d be of any use to him.” She laughed, but it was full of bitterness. “All I wanted to do was please him. Little did I know, all he wanted was a mindless slave to fuck and beat.” She slammed her fist against the couch. “How could I have been so stupid?”

“Baby, no.” He kissed the side of her forehead. “This was not your fault.”

“Yes, it was. I should have left, should have reported him, and now he’s got another slave, and who knows how many more before her, and what if he’s hurt them like he hurt me and it would be all my fault!” She beat her fists again and again, breaking his heart with each blow.

He lifted her onto his lap and held her wrists still in one hand. “It’s not your fault,” he snarled in her face. Her eyes went wide. In a softer tone, he finished, “And I don’t ever want to hear that again from you, do you understand,
cara
?” She nodded. “That’s my girl.” He let go of her wrists and tucked her head against his chest. “You’re safe now. Just relax.”

He reveled in the feel of her, rubbing his hands across her body. Whether to soothe her or himself, he wasn’t sure. Time passed and he felt some of the tension ease from her muscles.

“Why did you leave him?” he finally asked.

The fight seemed to go out of her. She laughed, a slightly crazed sound that broke at the end. “Why not tell? You know the rest of my fuck ups. The scar on my thigh. That was my breaking point.”

The silent, warm room stood in contrast to her agony and it nearly killed him.

“I was chained. He’d been flogging me, back and ass already aching. He decided to pull out the bullwhip.”

“Shit, baby, that’s no plaything.”

Another bitter laugh. “It was a hard limit for me. I like pain, but not like that. I safe worded after the first strike. That one hit my back, only left a welt.”

“Only left a… Dammit, Hope, I’m glad he’s here so I can beat the sick fuck.”

She gave the barest hint of a smile before it faded and she continued. “He said bad slaves don’t get to safe word. They need to take their punishments and deal with it. He laid a couple more strikes on my back before telling me to spread my legs. By that time, the pain had me cowering away in my mind, and not in a good way.”

He didn’t want to hear any more. It was no wonder Hope hadn’t wanted to talk about this.

“Got a nice hard slap for not moving fast enough. He chained my legs apart and the next whip landed on my thigh. Lucky for me,” she snorted. “Lucky, yeah. Master Joseph can’t stand the sight of blood. I should have gotten stitches, but he just unchained me and left. I asked for aftercare, for the first-aid kit, but all he said was ‘Damn shame, disobedient slaves don’t get aftercare’ before he stormed out.”

“Shit.” Gabe wanted to punch something, and he knew exactly who. That would have to wait. First, he wanted to make up for all the cuddles, the tenderness she’d missed out on. “Why were you being punished in the first place?”

She tucked her head against his chest, muffling her reply. “I’d asked him to make love to me.”

His blood chilled. “Baby…”

“Yeah. I was never allowed sex face-to-face, and it was never tender.”

He felt like the biggest bastard. “Is that why you left me?” He felt her nod. “Shit, I…that last night, I just wanted to see your beautiful face, watch you writhe and come under me, wrap you in my arms afterward, even though I could tell you weren’t comfortable with it. I’d never, ah, never wanted that before.” He rubbed a hand across his face.

“It wasn’t just that, Gabe. You saw too much. The questions were building in your eyes and I wasn’t ready to answer them. Took two years of therapy for me to even think about it myself.”

“I’m a selfish bastard.”

“And I’m relieved that I finally got to tell you. You were right—keeping secrets isn’t good for any relationship.”

His mother’s face floated across his mind but he shoved it aside. “What changed? Why share this now?”

She shrugged beneath his arm. “Self-preservation, maybe.”

“That’s not an answer. Try again.”

She looked up at him, reluctance painted across her face. “Before I passed out, all I could think of was you. That you could make it all better.”

Tears constricted his throat. “Hope…” He pulled her in tighter and kissed her forehead and her cheeks and her lips, savoring the taste of her skin, the flavor he hadn’t been able to erase from his memory. He so didn’t deserve her.

She sighed in his arms and snuggled closer to him. Her muffled voice said, “And you were right. I hit a situation I couldn’t run from.”

He smiled and tilted her chin up. “Wanna say that again?”

She attempted a laugh. That was his resilient girl.

“This is kind of my worst-case scenario. I can’t drive away from this mess, from him. Blasted snow. And…” She paused before cupping his cheek and meeting his eyes. Hers were so green and deep and open he wanted to fall right in and never leave. “Talking earlier helped. I’ve known for a while that I had to tell someone other than the woman I paid to listen to my whining. Well, she told me that, but I agreed. I’m glad it was you.”

He gave her a good squeeze, never breaking eye contact. He had his answers, his closure. Now would be the time to share his own secrets, but logic rebelled.

Gently pulling his arm from underneath her head, he shifted her from his lap back to the couch.

“Gabe, I…” She looked so small wrapped up in that soft, thick blanket. Innocent.

“I know.” He stood. “It’s time for me to go, and I think we both know that.” His chest tightened.

She rose and wrapped her arms around his waist. “See, I was going to say ‘I think I need you here with me.’” She bit her lip and looked at the floor. “I may have told you everything, but that doesn’t mean I’m all hunky-dory.”

He smiled, ignoring her first statement for the moment. “You know, you’re the only person who still uses that phrase.”

“Am not!” She smacked his chest, right where she’d been twining around his heart once again.

Oh, she was so asking for a little discipline. He froze, gave her a good, long stare, then grabbed her hand and pulled it behind her back. “Baby, did you just hit me?” he growled into her ear.

She shivered in his arms. “I, uh, well, I didn’t mean it like that—”

Her breathy words went straight to his groin and he ached to press himself against her. But there would be time for that later.

“Naughty girls don’t get to walk around free in this place, you know.”

Her breath whooshed out and her eyes fluttered closed. It looked as if she had been serious about keeping him there. He tightened his grip on her wrist, and her mouth parted in a soft, erotic sigh.

“Am I staying or going, baby?”

“Stay.” She popped open her eyes and he was drowning in green, unable to look away.

He let her go and took a step back. “Are you sure?” His heart sank at the betrayed look in her eyes. “No, honey, don’t think I’m rejecting you. I just want you to know what you’re getting yourself into.”

He pulled the cuff from his pocket. The light danced off the silver links and shiny green leather. When he’d made it, finding the perfect shade of green had taken weeks. “You’ll be mine until we leave. I won’t go easy on you or shy away from your past, because you know as well as I do you’ve still got shit to deal with. You’ll have your ass warmed and your nipples pinched and your hair pulled.” He knew this might not end well, but for two days with Hope? He’d take the chance of pain.

She swayed on her feet. “Yes.”

“Hold out your hand.”

He clasped the band around her pale wrist, the delicate veins beneath her skin seducing him. He wanted to find every blue line and trace it with his tongue. God, her creamy skin was beyond sexy.