Chapter Fourteen

 

“Come on in before you set fire to the bushes with your sexy-as-hell self.”

He stepped inside and took up the foyer space with his massive size. Stalking toward her, he forced her to back up into the decorative table. With hands on her hips, he squeezed and leaned in close enough for her to feel his breath upon her throat. “This negligee…it’s all sorts of sexy and hot. You buy this for me?”

All she could muster was a hoarse whisper. “Yes. Do you like it?”

He licked his way from the hollow of her throat down to where the slopes of her breasts met lace. “Very much.” He kissed each breast through the satin, raising hardened peaks that he “twiddled” with his thumbs. “I knew I’d find something worthwhile to do with these.”

She purred her approval, and as he knelt down before her and lifted the hem of her negligee, she raised a leg to rest on top of his shoulder. He moved in close, making lazy circles with his tongue around her belly button, and blazed a trail straight to where she ached the most.

The one leg she’d stood on buckled and he deftly caught her in his hands. He picked her up and carried her to the living room couch, where he perched her atop to lean against the wall, and knelt before her to start all over again. He placed his hands on both her knees and slowly spread them apart, opening her like a book. Kissing her inner thigh, he worked his way back home and read her story over and over until she grabbed a hunk of his hair and tore him away from her. That didn’t stop him from exploring her with his thumbs and driving her to climax a second time.

“You,” she cried out, chest heaving and wagging her finger at him. “You are a master twiddler.”

“I try.” He shrugged and wiggled his brow. She reached out to pull off his shirt, but he backed away.

“What’s going on?” Had she said or done something wrong? “Why won’t you let me take off your shirt?”

He helped her down and led her to her bedroom. “My plan was to pick you up and bring you back to my place, but I couldn’t fight the hunger. When I saw you standing there, looking all hot and sexy, I couldn’t help myself. I had to taste you. I want to take you back to my house and finish what we started.” He stopped by her bedroom door and grasped her hands in his. Casting his eyes down, he continued, a tinge of vulnerability exposed in his voice. “When you’re in my house, you make it feel like a home.” He raised her knuckles to his lips and kissed each one. “So throw something on and ride home with me.”

She lifted herself up on her tiptoes and kissed him delicately on his lips. “I’ll ride anywhere with you.” She kissed him again and scampered into the room to change.

 

Rolling thunder below her, a lightning show above, and her legs wrapped around the angel she loved. Nothing felt as liberating as cruising down the highway with him on his bike. The exhilaration of the ride and the stormy weather only enhanced her already sensitized body. They’d made it to his home just as the storm clouds opened up and dumped an ugly amount of rain in a matter of minutes.

She stood just inside the garage and marveled at nature’s display. “Holy shit! That was a close one. Look at it out there. I haven’t seen it rain this hard since last monsoon season.”

Not able to tear her gaze away to look back, she heard him cleaning off his bike. “Smells like wet dirt and piss to me,” he scoffed. “I hate it.” The door shuttered down before her, forcing her to take a few steps back. “It always reminds me of…never mind.”

She turned to find an unsettled man tinkering with his toys. “It reminds you of…what?”

“Nothing.” He created a raucous, sifting through metal things in his toolbox. “Forget I said anything.”

“Hmmm,” she mused as she met up with him at his work bench. Placing a gentle hand on his to stay the fidgeting, she continued. “I don’t think I’m going to let this one slide.”

He slammed the toolbox drawer shut and faced her, clearly agitated and at war with himself. “All right. All right. You see, the sickening smell reminds me of this sixteenth century Hungarian village I…lived in, and what it used to smell like most of the time. With all the rain, the dirt turned to sticky, smelly sludge. Add all the piss and shit in the gulley and the heat, and you’ve got ripe, foul-smelling air. Disgusting, but after living in the squalor long enough, it didn’t seem to bother the people around me. I never got used to it.”

“Why would a memory like that cause you to be all out of sorts, though? It’s in the past. A very long ago past, at that. It’s disgusting, but it shouldn’t affect you so now. Come on. I’ll make us some tea and we’ll talk for a bit. I’ve a feeling there’s a lot more to this story.”

He wiped his hands off with a rag, and straightened the motorcycle wrenches lying on the work table. Scrubbing his face, he let out an anxious sigh. “Damn rain has me all out of sorts. I’m sorry. I guess I should get things out in the open between us while the memories are fresh once again. You should know more about me. It’s only fair. I know everything there is to know about you. You’ve seen the work side of me, but this…what I’m about to share is not going to be easy for you to hear. ” He muttered something unintelligible, as he extended a hand to guide her into the kitchen.

“Tea?”

“Yes, that would be great.” He kissed her forehead and held onto her, as though he’d drown in the memories without her.

She would let him make his own timetable now that he finally agreed to share his mysterious past with her. “I’ll make it. When you’re ready, start talking.”

He sat at the counter, silent, and watched her prepare the civilized drink. She let the tea infuser, filled with loose leaves, steep in the boiled water, and poured each of them a cup. “Follow me. I think we need a more comfortable place than this to talk. What you’re about to tell me is harsh enough, I imagine. We don’t need to abuse our bums on hard chairs.”

He agreed, without a word. They walked arm in arm to the family room, the coziest of the house, besides his bedroom, and sat together on the oversized couch. “So, the tea is ready, the couch is inviting, and I’m here. Just know, whatever you have to share about your past, it can’t hurt you now.”

He smirked. “That’s not entirely true. My past has messed with my mind worse than any physical pain I might endure. It’s that kind of hurt that surprised you the other day when I ran around like a crazed lunatic.”

She took a sip and said nothing, knowing far too well how a mind can be played. She simply waited for him to begin his secret story.

 

****

 

Fucking rain! Why? Why did it have to rain now? He was so ready to have an amazing evening of marathon love-making, but the rain had let loose a deluge of horrid memories that continued to plague him centuries later and killed any sexual desire he’d harbored for the last few hours.

None of the Saviors could offer him a reprieve from his plight, though they kept trying and were perplexed by their impotence. Only one reason made sense as to why they could do nothing for him. E.L. had decided it should be so. Was it punishment for returning to the Beyond so many times? For not sticking it out like the rest of the Brethren? Or was it in preparation for something in his future?

Every moment that slipped by, his desire to run and hide rather than share his story increased tenfold. What good would telling the horrors of his past life do for him now? Absolutely nothing, except earn pity from the woman he loved. That didn’t sit well with him at all. He needed to tread carefully. She’d never view him the same way ever again.

“You’ve lived a long time. I know you were the first to manifest here. I also know you went back to the Beyond a few times before committing to stay here forever. I listen very well, my sweet angel, and pick up on subtle nuances. You didn’t have to say much for me to figure out something very dark and horrible happened to you during one of those instances. I need you to know, I don’t judge. I have nothing but love and support for you.”

He nodded, took a cleansing breath, and began. “It was in the year fifteen eighty-one when I happened to manifest in Hungary. This particular manifestation had occurred so different from the times before in that there was immediate pain. I’d come to Earth on a frigid, rainy day, naked and struggling to survive the first moments of an earthly life. I remember scrambling into an empty villager’s house to steal a pair of pants and a shirt from a drying rack, when someone spotted me leaving and raised a commotion, calling me out as a thief. People came running from everywhere with pitchforks and all manner of weaponry to stop me from running off. It wasn’t appropriate at that point to show my wings and fly off. We’re not supposed to exist. Had they seen anything remotely like angel wings on me, it would’ve made my predicament all the worse. So, I let them grab me and take me to the manor house, where I was thrown into a dungeon and chained to the floor.”

“Lovely people, those Middle Ages folk.” She sneered and bade him to continue.

“Well, days went by and no one came to bring me before the Lord or Lady of the manor. One day out of the blue, she came. The Countess. She made quite the scene of spitting on some of the dungeon residents and throwing rotten food at others. When she got to me, she stopped and scrutinized me for a good five minutes. She ordered me to stand, turn around, and bend over.”

“I don’t think I like where this is going.”

“I remember every word she said that day. It would change my life forever. ‘This one,’ she said. ‘I want this one, here. Bring him to my room, scrubbed down until he glows red. Don’t bother putting clothes on him. He’ll never need them.”

A shiver ran across her back and shoulders. “Who was this Countess?”

“People know her as Erzabet Bathory. Today, she’s known as one of the top ten most evil women in the world. The only reason I’m alive today is no thanks to her, but because I’m an immortal, and E.L. finally showed some kind of mercy on me.”

“I know who she is! I learned about her in History class. Oh, my God. I remember learning what made her so notorious.”

“And I know firsthand.”

 

There was no preparing herself for what he was about to tell her. She’d never imagined he’d have a past with someone as infamous and degenerate as the Countess. Scooting close to him, she took one of his mammoth hands in hers and squeezed. “What did she do to you, honey?”

“What did she do? What didn’t she do? She kept me leashed like a dog, and paraded me around the castle to her sick friends. She’d bring me down to the dungeon and threaten to put me back inside one of the cells if I ever tried to escape. Many times, peasant girls were brought to her chambers for repeated beatings, and she’d make me watch as she performed depraved acts on them. She loved to cut off their cheeks and eat them raw. She’d burn them and mutilate their hands, and stick needles in them like they were pin cushions. More times than not, she’d scream as they screamed, hers being due to her own orgasms.”

“Holy Jesus,” she muttered, swiping at her moistened eyes.

He nodded, and bent his head, refusing to look at her. He’d become quiet and reserved. When next he spoke, his whole demeanor had changed from the strong, powerful Protector, whose voice could make the Devil quake in fear, to one of a wounded bird crying out to anyone within reach. “She made me her sex slave, Hannah. She made me do things with the peasant girls, with the peasant boys, with her. Anything her sick, sadistic mind could conjure, she had me play out before her and with her. Anything and everything. Day in and day out, new girls and boys, and no one to protect us from her sick, twisted….” His voice trailed off as he succumbed to years of repressed emotion.

Her heart shattered into a million pieces as she watched old horrors shred his controlled façade. His body, now hunched in a protective position beside her, trembled and shook, as if he’d fallen into an icy abyss. At that moment, he seemed too far gone from the present to even recognize she sat beside him.

He called out. “Please, Countess! Don’t make me do this. She’s only a child! Please!”

Nightmarish memories had gripped him, and they’d no plans of letting him go until they destroyed his sanity.

She was not about to let that happen, so as petite as she was, Hannah wormed her way onto his lap to hold him and caress his face, and to bring him back to her. “Look at me, honey. Come back to me, my angel. There’s nothing for you but pain in the past. The Countess is dead and gone. She can’t hurt you anymore. Come back to me. To our present. To plan our future.”

His stormy eyes, frantic and brimming with unshed tears, sought answers in hers that she didn’t have. He grabbed her shoulders and shook, and yet he didn’t harm or frighten her. “Why didn’t he protect me? He’s supposed to be our protector, isn’t he? Why did he make me suffer and live through such atrocities while others got their reprieve through death? Why?”

He repeated his question over and over again, why, why, why, and nuzzled against her throat, where its steady pulse served to calm him. She stroked his hair and rocked him while whispering sweet nothings and words of love and support. He took a shaky breath, and another, and voiced the answer to his suffering he’d probably known all along, but refused to acknowledge. “I know what these stolen kids live through every day. We need to protect them. We need to protect them all, and bring down every last depraved soul who thinks they can exploit our children and get away with it.”

“I know, baby. We are and we will. I promise. Shhh. It’s fine. We’re going to fight the good fight because that’s what we do.” A stillness came over him as she continued to stroke his hair and place light kisses against his temples.

“Hannah?” His voice, uncharacteristically meek, played her heart like a weeping guitar.

“Hmm?”

He glanced up at her, eyes fringed with moistened lashes, and her breath hitched from the profound sadness she saw there. “I’m so tired of this emotional rollercoaster ride. I feel more and more pieces of me warp each time I have an episode. I’m becoming more and more unstable. I don’t know what to do.”

“Come.”

She untangled from his embrace and led him to his bedroom, over to his bed. Taking off her clothes, she laid them in a neat pile on the footstool. Her broken angel remained standing where she’d left him, lost in a miasma of past and present, so she guided him to the bed.

“Lay down, sweetheart, and I’ll join you.”

He did as he was told, just like every other lost soul would. He’d probably follow lemmings off a cliff if told to do so. She crawled onto the bed and nestled beside him. His arms wrapped around her and drew her in close. For a while, they didn’t speak or move.

She adjusted in his arms after a while so she could get a good look at him and didn’t like what she saw. “Here, let me do a little something I think will help you at least for the moment. Sit up for me.” As he did so, she shimmied behind him, straddling to allow his back to lean against her. “Now, relax.”

He blinked a few times and let his eyelids fall closed. She lightly massaged his forehead and temples with gentle pressure, making circular tracks down to his jawline and back up again. He moaned softly, and his body relaxed into her. Yes, a massage would help ease the tension and melancholy that had gripped him. If he’s going to be the strong Brethren Protector to bring down Teddy Hatchet, he needs to return to the controlled, imposing man I know and admire. The kids’ lives depended on it.

She continued the massage for a good long while. Every now and again, he sighed or purred, and she noticed him doing breathing exercises along with her massage, reenergizing and rebalancing after the emotional upheaval.

With eyes still closed, he reached up to grasp her hands and kissed each palm. “Thank you. Time and again you save this ancient, misused, and abused soul from himself. Are you Warrior, Savior, Protector? You behave like all three rolled into one.”

“I honestly don’t know what I’ve become. I just…am. The only thing I am sure of is that I will be all of these things for you. All of these things.”

He hooked an arm around her neck and pulled her close for a kiss so tender, so sumptuous, and filled with gratitude. He sat up before her, eyed her naked body, and looked down at his arms and legs. “I’m dreadfully overdressed for this party.”

“I’d have to agree with you.” Her heart sang. His humor had returned. That was a huge step in the right direction. “Shall we remedy the situation?”

“Absolutely.” He ripped off his shirt without taking his gaze off of her, and tossed the shreds to the floor. Next to go were his boots and socks, which he flung clear across the room. Wiggling his eyebrows, he scrunched his pants down to his ankles and flicked them off to rest in a heap at the foot of the bed. “That’s better. Nothing worse than being inappropriately attired.”

She laughed and flung herself into his arms, where he held her in his strong, sure grasp. “Protector, it’s good to have you back on this side of fine.”

“It’s good to be back. I’m sorry. In all the years you’ve known me, this hidden secret, my PTSD, it must be quite a shock for you to know. I wouldn’t blame you if you decided to cut and run in the morning.”

“Aw, you can’t get rid of me that easily. Nope. I’ll be hanging around a good long time. Don’t you worry.”

“Well, can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I’ve got a warning for you.”

“Yes?”

“If you don’t hurry up and make love to me, someone’s gonna have a hissy fit right here, right now, and wind up taking matters into her own hands.”

“As intrigued as I am to watch such an event, and I may just ask to watch someday soon, I do believe mine’ll be the hands taking up those matters, along with my mouth, my tongue, my….”

She assaulted his lips before he could get another word out. He retaliated with even deeper kisses, and lowered her to the bed. “So, I see we’ve had some dreamy sexual exploits together. Shall we try them out for real now?”

Blanching, she covered her face in her hands. “Dear Lord, please don’t tell me you’ve somehow seen my dreams. Please.”

His low-timbered laughter send her belly all aflutter. “I won’t. Even though I did. So, what do you say? How’d you like to try some tantric sex?”

“Mister, you have crossed the line of propriety. Now, we’re going to have to do it just to see if you can live up to the dream.”

“Mark my words, fair lady. That was merely a beginner’s dream. Wait until I show it all to you.”

No further words were spoken as he taught her, step by sensual step, the art of tantric sex. When they both reached sensory overload, they allowed themselves the ultimate release. With bodies tangled in a human knot, they fell into a synchronized breathing rhythm.

“I hear your heartbeat. It’s slower.”

“I guess that’s another change to tick off the ever-growing list.”

“Hannah?”

“Yes?”

“I want to close my eyes with you.”

“Okay.”

“You’ll be here when they open again?”

“Every time.”

“I love you.”

She breathed in the words and his essence, and knew them both to be vulnerable yet pillars of strength. With her own steadfast resolve she responded, “I love you, too.”