Her fingers tunneled in his hair and gripped as if gathering courage. “I don’t cooperate with Brett and he hates me for it. Whitney won’t let him mark my face, so he beats my back and legs with his belt and sometimes a cane. I still don’t cooperate, so he forces me when I’m too weak.” There was humiliation in her voice.
She didn’t understand why she told him—only that she had to.
Ken stiffened. He could hear his own heartbeat thundering in his chest. There was a roaring of protest in his head. It had cost her pride to tell him. He wanted to smash something and go on a killing spree, taking down Whitney and Brett and anyone else who helped perpetuate such a vile crime.
She held herself very still. She had given him something important of herself, and she was waiting for his reaction. He couldn’t tear down the walls and roar like a wounded animal. He had to give something equally important back.
“Ekabela had my skin peeled from my back. I guess they were a little tired of making all those nice clean cuts on my front and wanted to get it over with.”
She was silent a moment, her fingers massaging his neck and scalp. He hadn’t said a word about the pain or the fact that he couldn’t possibly have escaped a major infection being in the jungle. It was a wonder he was alive. And it made her even more curious about how far they’d gone with that knife.
“Come up here with me,” she finally said. “Sing to me. That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. I didn’t have a single nightmare.”
Ken slid onto the bed, curling his body protectively around hers, his arms holding her close. He sang softly while she drifted off to sleep, and then he lay still, tears burning behind his eyes and his heart pounding loud and desperate in his chest.
Chapter 10
Mari slept on and off for the next two days, slowly gaining her strength back. Ken stayed with her most of the time, but she was free to move around the room, building up the muscles in her leg again. Ken did a workout with her, push-ups and sit-ups and rubbing her calf muscle for her. Each time she went to sleep, he was there, holding her close and singing softly to her. If anyone else entered the room, he would stop abruptly as if embarrassed, but when they were alone and she asked, he would sing. It made her feel as if there was a connection—an intimacy—between the two of them.
She woke at night, staring up at the ceiling and savoring the feeling of his body so close to hers. She knew he was awake, unable to sleep. She wished she could find a way to take away his nightmares the way he did for her. She could tell by his ragged breathing and the intense heat of his body that the memories were too close. He was sitting beside her, the sheet—and little else—separating them. She was always acutely aware of him as a man. “Bad tonight?”
He turned his head to look down at her, and she caught a glimpse of hell in his eyes before he smiled at her, covering his thoughts, his fingers coming up to tangle in the gold and silver silk of her hair. “Not too bad.” He tugged at her hair, rubbing the strands between his thumb and finger as if savoring the feel of it. “I love to watch you sleep.”
It should have bothered her, being so vulnerable as to sleep with a man watching her, but somehow, he made her feel safe. She wanted that for him. He was the silent sentry, standing guard over her, his nightmares close and vivid, while he made certain she was able to sleep like a baby. It hardly seemed fair. “I wish you could sleep too. We need to find something to help you with that.” There was an unconscious invitation in her voice.
Ken sat beside her, feeling the warmth of her body, the rush of electricity sparking along his skin. He had every good intention, had given himself a million lectures, but being with her night and day, watching the shadows chasing across her face, knowing what her life had been—what it would be again if Whitney had his way—made him feel less of a monster than he was. And that was dangerous.
“Ken.” There was an ache of longing in her voice. She reached up and touched his lips, tracing the outline with a light caress.
He shook his head. “You’re tempting the devil, Mari.”
“I don’t think of you as a devil.”
Ken framed her face with his hands, his fingers exploring, tracing the fine bone structure of her face and sliding down her chin to her neck. “You’re so delicate. How can you have so much strength packed into such a delicate little body?”
“No one’s ever called me that before.” She turned her face into his palm and rubbed like a cat. “You just have big hands.”
Ken found the way her face moved over his hand far too sensual for his liking. Her tongue darted out to taste his skin, a soft, heart-stopping curl along his thumb, sending erotic images into his head before he could censor. He needed Mari to feel safe with him, but she was naturally sexy, responding to their potent chemistry with little inhibition due to the drugs in her system. Her soft br**sts pushed against his chest, sending an electric current through his body. “Maybe you should go back to sleep.”
“Why?”
“It’s just safer for you.”
“You mean safer for you,” she said, mocking him. “You’re such a baby.” She nuzzled his hand again, her tongue and teeth this time sliding up his wrist. Her lips were featherlight against his scars, tiny kisses designed to drive him crazy.
Ken cleared his throat, his heart racing. “I have no idea what kind of drugs Lily is giving you, but I’m sure it’s a potent combination.”
“It’s the drugs? I want you because Lily gave me drugs?” Her mouth engulfed his thumb and sucked hard, tongue fluttering suggestively. All the while her chocolate eyes remained locked with his.
His heart nearly stopped. His body reacted, blood pounding, filling his groin to bursting, centering awareness in one pulsing, throbbing ache. “Sweetheart, you just can’t do things like that. You’re playing with fire.”
Teeth scraped and teased the pad of his thumb. His c**k jerked in response, anticipating the pleasure of teeth scraping along his scars, tongue and mouth tight and hot and oh so moist.
He slid his hand beneath her shirt, sliding over her bare stomach and up along her ribs to cover her breast. He took his time, giving her plenty of time to pull back, to stop him. She arced into him, pushing her nipple into his palm. It was already tight and erect, begging for attention.
“Tell me what your home is like. I’ve never been in a home.”
Ken laid his head on the pillow beside hers, fingers stroking gently. “Jack and I built a house in Montana. We have quite a few acres and the national forest surrounds our property on three sides, so we’re fairly isolated. We’re entirely self-sufficient. Jack made most of the furniture. We have a gold mine—never worked it, but there’s a vein there for certain.”