ISAAC lay quietly in the dark, staring up at the ceiling, his thoughts consumed by the blue-eyed angel in the next room. Would she be able to sleep? And if she was, did nightmares plague her dreams?
What was it about her that called to a part of his heart and soul that had never been breached before? He could come up with plenty of reasonable explanations, like the fact that she’d saved his life. Or that he’d made it his life’s work to protect the innocent. Or the fact that she was lost in a world of which she had little understanding or knowledge. Or the fact that she needed him.
But the simple truth was that he needed her every bit as much as she needed him, and he couldn’t come up with a reason that made any sense to him.
He’d come across plenty of victimized women who’d desperately needed help, his protection, DSS’s protection, but never had he been even remotely possessive of them. He’d done his job, and it never failed to enrage him and rile his protective instincts. It was who and what he was; he’d never been a man to stand idly by while a woman was in danger or being abused.
But his angel wasn’t just any victim. She wasn’t just any woman in trouble and in need of protecting. And he had no idea what to do with that realization. He couldn’t even call it a realization, as if he’d just been struck by an epiphany as he lay there with no hope of sleeping. He’d known it from the moment she’d touched him, laid her hands on him, and he’d felt her in the very depths of his soul.
It wasn’t sexual—wholly—because he’d be a damn liar if he didn’t want her with every breath in his body. It was spiritual, and he felt like some hokey fool mooning over things like destiny and fate, but how could he call it anything else when from the moment she’d touched him he’d felt a connection that transcended any physical want or need?
And he was consumed with guilt for having sexual thoughts, lustful, needful thoughts, about a woman child whom he didn’t even know if she was of an age for him to be having such thoughts about her. She had the innocence of a girl with the body of a desirable woman. Hell, it was obvious that no matter how many years she’d lived in this world, she’d spent the majority of them sheltered, sequestered from the real world. She was either enraptured with or terrified of things that he and others took for granted.
She’d been conditioned.
He frowned. It appeared that at a very early age she’d been indoctrinated. Brainwashed. Taught an alternate reality that was twisted to fit the agenda of the people who’d kept her under lock and key, and they’d proven they would go to extreme measures to retrieve her. She was a valuable asset to them. Irreplaceable. He wondered when her powers had manifested themselves and as he pondered that question, he wondered if it was what had saved her from a far worse fate. Even the dumbest fucks would realize the enormity of what they possessed in Jenna.
He rolled over to retrieve his cell and punched in Eliza’s number, knowing it was late and that Sterling likely wouldn’t be pleased, but Eliza of all people would understand his suspicions. He needed to bounce some ideas off her.
“This better be damn good,” Eliza growled into the phone. “Because I was about to be the recipient of the mother of all orgasms, and Wade is just pissed enough to throw my phone in the pool and withhold sex for a week.”
Isaac burst out laughing when he heard Sterling in the background.
“Jesus fuck, woman, can we keep our sex life and your goddamn job separate?”
“Apparently not,” Eliza said acidly. “Since one of my esteemed coworkers just called me right in the middle of your best move.”
“You haven’t seen my best moves, baby. Yet,” Sterling said in a silky voice. “I’m saving those for when you’ve been a very good girl. It’ll give you something to look forward to.”
“Lizzie, stop. Please. I’m begging you. I’m going to need to bleach my eyes and my ears. I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important. Give me a few minutes and then I’ll let you get back to your, uh, nighttime activities. And my advice, for what it’s worth: work on being a very good girl.”
She snorted, but then all humor left her tone. “Hit me with it.”
“I was lying here thinking about Jenna and the weirdness of her situation. It’s almost like she’s been conditioned and indoctrinated over a period of years to accept an alternative reality and to reject any semblance of the modern world.”
“Yeah, I could see that.”
“What if she came from one of those survivalist groups. Living off the grid. Government and the modern world are the enemy. It would explain her unfamiliarity with the most basic essentials of what’s everyday normal life to you and me.”
Eliza paused for a moment. “Could be, but that’s not what my gut tells me. Survivalist groups are very aware of the world around them. They have to be, in their minds. How else will they know how to survive, how to resist invasion, being taken over, et cetera. And Isaac, that shit about how the women were treated in whatever fucked-up place she lived? That’s not how most, and I say most because there’s always the one exception, of these groups operate. They have wives, families, children, and they’re very protective of them. They don’t treat them like cattle or breeding stock or starve them of love and affection. I’d say you’ve got yourself one fucked-up situation where a person or persons only play by the rules they themselves make. Those are the most dangerous kind because in their mind, they aren’t doing anything wrong. But they’ve been wronged. First by Jenna by her leaving the fold, and then by the people aiding her. They’re all about control and if they lose that control, they become dangerous and unstable. More so than they already are.”
“Don’t mean to drag up bad memories for you, Lizzie,” Isaac said quietly.
He could almost hear Eliza’s smile through the phone. “He’s dead now, Isaac. He has no hold on me. He can only hurt me if I let him and he can only do that through memories or dreams, and Wade is very good at keeping him out of my head.”
Isaac laughed. “I can well imagine. Thanks, Lizzie. I just needed another perspective. This is driving me crazy. I know we need answers, but I won’t push her. I won’t force her to do anything. I want her to trust me enough to tell me on her own.”
“Understandable,” Eliza said quietly. “And smart on your part. Good luck, and I know I don’t have to say this, but handle her gently. She looks to be very close to her breaking point.”
“You’re right. You don’t need to say it, but thanks anyway.”
“Anytime, Isaac. And be careful, okay? I’d rather not hear about someone I care about having another brush with death.”
“Now you know how I felt when it was you, Lizzie.”
“Good night,” she whispered.
Isaac slid his phone back over onto the nightstand and then went stock-still, his hand automatically reaching for his gun when his door slowly cracked open the barest of inches. But when the door opened wider to reveal Jenna illuminated by the dim hall light, her hair tousled like she’d been restless and unable to sleep, his hand eased away from the gun.
“Isaac?” she softly called.
“Yes, honey, I’m here.”
She took a hesitant step forward, her nervousness evident in her stance and demeanor.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” he reassured her. “Is something wrong?”
She bit into her bottom lip and glanced downward, and he knew if the light were better he’d be able to see the blush that was surely adorning her cheeks.
“Hey, come here,” he said.
She walked forward, stopping at the foot of the bed. She continued to avoid his gaze, finding anything else to focus on.
“Jenna, look at me,” he commanded gently.
Finally she lifted her gaze, and he was gutted by the unease reflected in her eyes.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“I wanted to ask . . . I mean if you didn’t mind . . . I wanted . . . well, it’s stupid, but I couldn’t sleep because I’m afraid,” she whispered. “Would you mind if I stayed in here with you?”
His heart damn near stopped. It was the very last thing he’d expected her to ask, but there was no way in hell he was telling her no. The idea that she’d been lying in the room next to his unable to sleep because she was afraid damn near broke his heart.
“Of course I don’t mind. Get the door, okay? And then come here.”
She turned and retraced the few steps to close the door and then walked to the side of the bed and to his utter bewilderment, she settled down on the floor, curling her knees into her chest, obviously planning to sleep there.
“Jenna, no,” he said, more harshly than he intended.
His tone startled her and then she looked crushed, tears of mortification welling in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I shouldn’t have come. It wasn’t my place. Don’t be angry, please. I couldn’t bear it if you were angry with me.”
He was momentarily speechless as she hurried to get up, but then he was out of the bed and in front of her before he even realized he was there. He placed gentle hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look at him.
“Honey, I’m not angry with you. I’m pissed that you thought you had to sleep on the floor. You will never sleep on the goddamn floor again, is that clear?”
The shocked look on her face only intensified when he simply lifted her slight figure into his arms and then leaned over the bed, depositing her on the opposite side so her head was nestled on the pillows. Then he crawled up on his side, pulling the covers over both of them.
“Come here,” he said again, his voice soft and full of apology.
She awkwardly moved toward him a few inches, so he reached for her and hauled her against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her so her cheek was pressed right over his heart and his chin rested atop her head.
She was stiff as a board and he could barely feel her breathe as she processed the situation. He could feel the panic coursing through her veins and her rapid pulse and increased respirations.
“Relax, Jenna,” he ordered. “Nothing can hurt you here. Now what were you afraid of? Did you see something? Hear something?”
Gradually she began to relax, though it seemed an eternity before she finally capitulated and her soft curves melded to his much harder frame.
“It’s stupid,” she muttered, obviously embarrassed now that she was over her initial fright.
“There aren’t rules when it comes to fear, honey. Everyone fears something and it can strike at any time with no warning, and even the simplest, unassuming thing can trigger it. What was it that scared you?”
“The window,” she blurted. “Since my room is in the middle, the only window is at the back of the house and faces . . . nothing. It’s just dark, and the window is so big and it’s so close to my bed, and all I could think was how easy it would be for someone to take me out of that window before anyone even realized I was gone. I used to long for windows. I hated the room where I was kept because there was never any sunshine. Nothing to see but four walls. But now I hate them, because now I know what’s out there just waiting and how easy having a window makes it for people to get in.”
“That’s not stupid, sweetheart,” Isaac soothed. “It’s smart, and it means you’re aware of your surroundings and the possible dangers associated. But I promise you that nothing will hurt you in this room when you’re with me. And there is no way I’ll let anyone take you from me. Can you trust me that much, Jenna?”
She snuggled even closer to his chest, their legs sliding and bumping together until finally he trapped hers between his and held her close, lending her his warmth and comfort.
“I do trust you,” she whispered. “I know it seems like I don’t because I haven’t told you anything, or at least much. It’s just that I’m so ashamed.”
Tears were thick in her voice and he threaded one hand through her hair and then pressed his lips to the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her honeyed tresses.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of, Jenna. I wish I could make you see that, believe that. God, I can’t think of a person more worthy and undeserving of shame than you. Do you even realize how good you are? How brightly you shine? It’s all there for the world to see. Your gentleness, your compassion, your goodness. And your beauty,” he whispered. “Never have I seen a more beautiful woman than you.”
Her small fingertips dug into his chest and he felt her slight tremble, the effect his words had on her. Then she lifted her head so that she could look him in the eye.
It was obvious she was nervous, and she had the most adorably shy look as her gaze traveled over his entire face.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked in a hushed whisper he had to strain to hear.
His fingers, still tangled in her hair, gently pulled through the strands as he caressed their length and then the tips, wrapping them around his knuckles.
“You can always ask me anything,” he vowed.
“Can I . . . Can I kiss you?”
Heat traveled to the center of his being. His blood blazed a trail of fire through his veins until he was certain his entire core was molten lava. He stared at her with hungry, hooded eyes, nearly groaning with the dilemma before him. The moment her request had registered, he’d gone rock hard, and the last thing he wanted was to scare the hell out of her with a monster erection.
When she started to say something, likely to recant or apologize, he pressed one finger to her lips.
“I have to ask you one question first,” he said huskily.
She looked at him in confusion but nodded her agreement.
Praying the entire time, he drew in a breath and said, “How old are you, sweetheart?”
Her brow furrowed and he cursed himself, because once more shame made her features sad and distant.
“I don’t know,” she murmured.
“I don’t understand,” he said with genuine confusion.
“I only have a few memories of my life before . . . them.”
She shuddered with distaste when she said “them,” and chill bumps erupted over her skin. He drew her in closer and rubbed his palms up and down in an effort to warm her.
“Mostly they’re like random, brief snatches of time, gone before I can grab on to them and hold on long enough to make sense of them. I know I was at least a few years old when I went to live with them and I’ve been with them for almost twenty years, but they’re all a blur, you know? In the beginning I would mark the passing of each day until I realized that no one was coming for me and that time meant nothing. I stopped counting because it didn’t seem to matter anymore. I didn’t matter,” she said painfully.
Isaac cupped her chin, forcing her gaze upward, wanting her to see the sincerity in his expression and words.
“You matter, Jenna. Don’t ever think differently. You matter.”
She swallowed back a sob and then buried her face in his neck, grasping his shoulders with both hands. Then she finally pulled back and looked pleadingly up at him.
“I want to kiss you, Isaac, but I don’t know how. I want it to be all the things you said it could be. I want to pretend just for a moment. Will you help me?”
He wiped the twin trails of tears from her cheeks with his thumb. “It would be my pleasure, angel.”