Take Me, page 4
Memories of the last Second she had let dominate her raced through her mind, over her body, and she went rigid. Every muscle in her body strung tight. He’d thrown her down, tied her up. Shame slithered over her spine at how she’d enjoyed it. And then he’d hurt her. She’d enjoyed that too, the pleasure that ripped through her along with the pain.
And then…then he’d gone too far and the pain hadn’t been pleasurable. Then it had been about degradation and not mutual enjoyment. She’d struggled and screamed, used her Panther strength to rip herself free from the bindings, but her strength was nothing to his. And he’d laughed at her, mocking her. He’d used his fangs and claws to tear into her very human flesh until she bled. Until it had made her weak with blood loss.
There wasn’t much she remembered after that, just that she had managed to escape and flee to her rooms. Passing out, she’d awoken the next day healed by the magic inside her. A part of her hadn’t been sure she’d wake up at all.
As ashamed as she’d been, she found the courage to tell her father and he hadn’t believed her. Her own father had believed his Second when he said Andrea exaggerated, that she was too inexperienced to understand the feral nature of Panthers. That she’d been more than willing and was now embarrassed by her own appetites.
Just enough truth to bury her.
She’d packed her bags and left that day. Nothing she could have said could make up for the fact that her parent—someone who should have defended her no matter what—had hung her out to dry when she told him she’d been abused. That was the end. She couldn’t remain in the Pride after that.
And she’d never let anyone take control during sex again either. She’d cut that part of herself away. The weak part of her soul that craved pleasing other people. She was in charge of her body, her mind. Miguel needed to understand that. “I’m glad you stopped by, actually.”
A quiet grin lightened his handsome face. “Are you? Good.”
“Don’t look too pleased. I need to talk to you about what happened…last night.”
The grin turned wicked and his gaze slid over her body. She felt it like a possessive caress against her skin and she responded. Her nipples tightened, her sex dampening. She clenched her thighs together, but it did little to ease the empty ache between them. An ache that only he could assuage now. The thought of another man touching her made her skin crawl. She cleared her throat and met his gaze. “It can’t happen again.”
He blinked, confusion flashing in his brown eyes for a moment. “Make love? But, we’re mates, Andrea. Surely, you can’t expect that we’ll—”
“Not the sex part. That was…I mean…I want that part to happen again. If you’re willing, of course.” A blush heated her cheeks. How the hell was she supposed to say this?
“I’m willing.” He took a step toward her, obviously intending to show her just how willing he was. Right now. Fire exploded in her belly and her sex contracted with want.
She held up her hand, tripping back a step and almost sprawling on her ass when she ran into her overturned chair. This was not going the way she’d planned. “I meant the hitting. You can’t hit me again.”
He froze in place as a mask settled over his features. If she’d thought him difficult to read before, now it was impossible. Not a single movement or flicker of expression crossed his face. He’d gone dangerously still. “You didn’t protest at the time. I thought we both enjoyed ourselves.”
“I—I did. I mean, I didn’t.” She swallowed, the blood leeching out of her face. “You didn’t do anything I wasn’t willing to do, so don’t think that’s what I’m saying. It’s—it’s wrong for people to do that, and I’m just not into that kind of thing.”
Liar. But the way he flinched and went pale stilled her tongue.
He pulled in a deep breath, his eyes shuttered, and his voice was a harsh rasp of sound. “From what I could tell each time we fucked, you need pain with your pleasure. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“It’s sick and twisted and wrong.” She shoved her fingers through her hair. He had to understand. He had to see that she was right. If he tried to do that again… Shame and longing slid through her. God, she was so fucked in the head. Hadn’t she learned what could happen? Men couldn’t be trusted to protect a woman, let alone respect her when she was vulnerable. And yet her body still craved the pain. She choked on a breath. “I’m sick inside and I can’t make it stop.”
“Is it sick that I enjoyed it as much as you did? You weren’t the only one there.” Reaching for her, he let his hand wilt to his side when she recoiled from his touch. His jaw firmed. “Everyone’s needs are different, Andrea. I can give you that. You need me.”
“I do not need it.” Rage exploded from somewhere deep inside her, a dam bursting. She scooped a glass paperweight off her desk and launched it at his head. “And I don’t need you! I don’t need anyone.”
Lightning reflexes had his hand snapping out to catch the projectile midair. What killed her was the understanding that softened his expression. “Anger won’t make it—or me—go away. You have to accept this part of yourself.”
She shook her head so wildly the short strands of her hair whipped into her eyes. “Stop. Just stop. I don’t want to talk about this. It’s disgusting.”
“Andrea, please. It’s not—”
She didn’t listen, she turned on a heel and raced for the door. Tears streaked down her cheeks and more filled her eyes so fast she could barely see through the blur of moisture.
Shooting out into the hall, she slammed into a broad chest. She skittered back to see Antonio. He looked at her and then over her shoulder at her room where Miguel was clearly outlined in the open door.
Swiping at the tears on her face, she tried to sidle past him. “Excuse me. I’m sorry.”
“Andrea.”
She stopped dead, unable to resist the command in his tone, to disobey her leader. Some habits were just too ingrained to ignore. “Yes, sir?”
He winced and gestured her toward the stairs. “Don’t speak to me the way you would Father.”
“You have the power he did. Why would I assume that you would wish to be treated differently than him?” Stomping on the emotional upheaval of her conversation with Miguel, she scrambled to maintain the calm she’d worked so hard to present to her family so far. She wasn’t the rebellious teenager she’d been when she left, but she didn’t know who she was now in terms of Panther society. And everything that was going on with Miguel had the power to make her unravel. She had to hold tight or she’d lose sight of herself.
Antonio rested his hand between her shoulder blades as they walked down the stairs and into his study. “Why would you think I’m different than him? Solana, for one. Do you think I could mate with her and not understand how poorly Father treated her? That his inability to accept her as she was left her a teenager on the streets with no protection?”
She stared at the floor for a moment, uncomfortable under his probing gaze. “She’s no longer a non-shifter.”
“I’d already claimed her as my mate by the time we discovered she could shift. I suspected, but in the end it didn’t matter. She was mine and I was hers. It was that simple.” He walked around the big wooden desk that dominated the room, leaning his palms on the polished surface.
“And that complicated.” She met his eyes, her shoulder lifting in a shrug.
“Indeed. Plus, you know I never got along with Father. I find it…sad…that you think coming into power of my own would turn me into him.” He plopped into the chair that used to belong to her father. Her muscles locked as the familiar tension of being called onto the carpet in this room settled over her body.
Exhaustion rolled over her in an overwhelming wave. Everything that had happened with Miguel and now the ghosts of the past were just too much for her to deal with. If she had to stay here until Antonio’s child was born, and if there was no way to convince her brother to let her leave after, then she’d have to learn to co-exist with Miguel until his tenure as Second ended and he went back to South America.
With their different outlook and needs in the bedroom, she couldn’t imagine them ever deciding to mark each other and lock themselves into a mating with one person who couldn’t fulfill them. Because there was no way she could ever let him spank her again, let alone do anything else he might come up with. She refused to let herself think of what that might be. Remembering the closed look on his face when she told him not to hit her made guilt of another kind stab through her. He deserved an explanation of her past, of why she was so opposed to pain in the bedroom. It might help keep the peace between them, which she needed right now.
She swallowed and straightened her shoulders to face her brother, hoping to get this over with so she could crawl into bed and not awaken for a year. A sad smile curved her lips. Maybe it would all have gone away by then.
Miguel sat in his office when Andrea knocked on the door. It was her, he knew it was her. He could smell the sweetness of her. His hand tightened on the silver pen he was using until the metal groaned. He hadn’t gone more than a few moments at a time without thinking about her, wanting her.
Could he handle her right now? His control hung by a tenuous thread. That she regretted what had happened between them made a bitter taste flood his mouth. It also made him angry that something so precious to him would repulse her. She wasn’t the first woman not to share his tastes in the bedroom, but she was the first in a long time. He usually judged his bedmates better than that. That his mate was a woman who would recoil from him was a harsh kick to the gut.
But he didn’t believe her protests. He knew she shared his desires—she simply didn’t want to share them. Something had scared her and he wanted to know what. Protectiveness swamped him. No one had ever gotten under his skin so fast. He wanted to soothe her fears, assure her she was safe—if for no other reason than that he’d move mountains to make it so.
Women and children should be protected at all costs. It was a man’s duty to take care of what was his, and he didn’t give a damn if it was a Neanderthal attitude to have. It wasn’t that he thought women incapable of looking after themselves, just that they should be cherished. He knew firsthand what could happen when a man disregarded his responsibilities to those under his care. His father’s inattention had cost his older sister her life.
His father was the younger son in the ruling family in the South American Pride. He’d been charming and carefree, pampered all his life, and expected others to do for him. Miguel’s mother had worshipped him to distraction, but that hadn’t left much attention for either of their children.
Miguel had sensed for weeks that something was wrong with Violeta. Something building, some powerful magic about to burst forward. Perhaps he was more sensitive than most, he’d never know, but when he’d told his father, it had been brushed off.
When Violeta disappeared from the Pride’s vacation retreat in Peru one summer morning, his father had left it to others to worry. She was fine, she’d return soon. Miguel had been unconvinced and had set out alone to find her. They were close in age, only a year and a half apart, and had learned to depend on each other in the face of their parents’ neglect. Neither of them was old enough to shift forms—that part of Panther magic only unleashed with the hormonal influx of adolescence.
And his sister had shifted for the first time that day. It took hours for Miguel to track her into the rainforest surrounding the hacienda—something a full-grown Panther could have managed in a fraction of the time. When he’d found her, it was already too late. Hunters had shot her and left her for dead. She’d barely clung to life—her breathing had the hollow rattle of death. He’d curled his human body around the silky black fur of her young Panther form and held her until the life slipped from her, and her ragged breath stopped altogether, sobbing until he’d been hoarse with it, until there were no more tears left.
He’d never spoken to either of his parents again. They hadn’t protected Violeta, looked after her as they should have. Miguel had been determined from that moment on to never be that way, to be trustworthy, to work for what he got, to take his responsibilities to the Prides seriously and help safeguard all Panthers.
He’d found a way to channel that intense need to protect in his sexual preferences. Protecting a woman while she was at her most vulnerable, while she explored her need to submit both aroused and fulfilled him. And that Andrea would be disgusted by that shook him. It also challenged him because her reactions had been so intense that he knew her needs matched his in bed. He just didn’t know why she would run from it.
Her knock came again, this time softer and more tentative. She knew he was in here, and he didn’t have the heart to turn her away. He sighed. “Come in, Andrea.”
The door opened and she edged in, the knob clutched tightly in her hand. “Miguel.”
A long beat of silence passed while they stared at each other. God, she was so lovely. The light played over the angles of her cheekbones, caressed the curve of her jaw. Her great dark eyes were hooded, shadowed with secrets she kept from him. He hated that. He wanted nothing between them. “Did you need something?”
“I wanted…” She swallowed and looked away, her gaze moving around the room. “It’s very different in here than when I lived with the Pride. I noticed it when I took that call in here yesterday. The Second then liked a more…old-world ambiance. Leather and carved wood. Like an old gentlemen’s club.”
He blinked at the light topic, so at odds with the white-knuckled grip she had on the door handle, the complete lack of expression on her face. She was nervous. But, why?
Another secret, another dead end. Too many questions and no answers. It fascinated as much as it frustrated him. He sat back in his chair, forcing himself to relax into the unassuming second in command that most Pride members were comfortable with. “Yes, I redecorated when I got here. Though there were a few Seconds between him and me, I’m guessing no one changed anything because it looked exactly as you described. I prefer a modern flair.”
He flicked his fingers to indicate the metal and glass furniture that dominated the room. Interspersed were pieces he’d brought with him from Buenos Aires, carvings, painted gourds, glossy ceramic vases and bowls. Touches of color so that it wasn’t sterile and uninviting. The previous decorations had made the room feel like a dark cave closing in on him.
“It suits you.” Her hand fell away from the doorknob, clasping and unclasping in front of her.
He wished he knew what troubled her, what he could do to help, but her face remained closed. He rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Come in. Sit.”
“I—I don’t want to interrupt.” A giggle burst from her lips, the slight hysteria at odds with her composed expression. “But I already have, haven’t I? I’m sorry. I’ll go.”
“Stay,” he barked the order, and she jolted. He took a deep breath, again relaxing his muscles into his desk chair. He smiled. “I’d like you to stay. Please, come in and sit down. You obviously have something on your mind. If you care to tell me, I’d like to hear it.”
“I…I just…okay.” She pulled in a deep breath and stepped forward, closing the door behind her. She sat stiffly in the chair opposite him. “I’m just going to get right to the point. I want to explain about why I freaked out earlier…why I don’t want anyone to s-spank me in bed.”
He nodded, but when she didn’t continue, he decided to make sure they were talking about the same kind of sexual desires. There was a lot she could be misinformed about when it came to dominance and submission during sex. “You know that a submissive has the ultimate control, right? What happened between us—what I hope will happen again—doesn’t make you powerless. You can say no. You can stop anything that’s happening. It’s an exchange of power, Andrea. Not a taking.”
She looked down at her lap, a bitter smile twisting her lips. “That’s not always true. Sometimes—sometimes they don’t stop.”
Those few words told him so much about why she’d been terrified to give in to her needs. Rage boiled high and hot within him. That his mate would have been abused, that any man would dare to hurt her, made the feral side of his nature want to claw free, hunt the man down, and rip his throat out. His teeth ground together for a moment before he could form a coherent sentence. “You tried to explore this side of yourself and some asshole pushed you over your limits. Who was he?”
“His name doesn’t matter. He was my father’s Second.”
“Shit,” he breathed. His hands actually shook with the need to damage this man. The look on Andrea’s face—he never wanted to see that kind of betrayed pain from his mate again. His belly knotted and it took all his willpower not to reach for her. He sensed she needed to purge this more than she needed his comfort. He doubted she’d ever told anyone about this before. Whether she realized it or not, she was trusting him with something she’d locked away for a long, long time.
Her shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Father went through Seconds like toilet paper. It meant they never gained much influence here. He had all the power. But his Second made me realize men don’t want me for me. They want to toy with me because of who my family is, they want meaningless sex, or more than I can willingly give. After that—after that I chose to remove myself as a player in my family’s politics and…I chose the meaningless sex. I was in control. I gave only what I was willing to part with.”
He moved around the desk to kneel before her. His hands covered hers, her fingers icy cold against his. He looked up, meeting her troubled gaze. “I am so sorry.”
“Me, too.” Again, her shoulder jerked in the semblance of a nonchalant shrug and she glanced away. “But it was an important lesson to learn. I never looked back after that.”
“I’ll kill him for you.” His voice went flat, deadly serious. He didn’t even try to temper his response in this area. The man deserved to die for damaging a teenaged girl’s trust to the point that she ran away from her family…and herself.
