You Are Mine (6 page)

“I think,” he said gently, “that it's time someone told you what to do more often. And that you should listen.”

“Or what?” She was operating on sheer bravado now, he could see it. “Are you trying to intimidate me? Is that what you're trying to do?” She took a step toward him, then another. “Nice way to treat your friends, asshole.”

All the color had leached away from her face now, her cheeks pale as ashes. Her eyes glittered, fear bright in them despite her tough words.

That was the problem with his angel. She was a fighter; it was her greatest strength. Yet it was also her greatest flaw. Because she didn't know when to stop. That sometimes there was more strength in surrendering than in fighting.

You can teach her how to do that.

Oh, yes. He could. There were so many things he could teach her if she'd only let him. But of course, she was never going to let him.

Zac took the last step, closing the distance between them, getting right into her personal space. He wasn't touching her, but they were only inches apart. It was a tactic he used to intimidate and overwhelm. To assert his authority, his dominance.

Because if there was one thing Eva King had to learn it was that he was the one in charge now. Yes, her anger was preferable but her fear was also a useful tool, and use it he would. To break her.

It wasn't something he relished doing; it was necessary in order to protect her and the lives of their friends.

Bullshit. You do get off on it. The Dom in you wants the challenge, it always has.

He ignored that thought, crushed the reflexive surge of desire as her eyes widened at his nearness, as she held her ground in front of him. Good Christ, she was nothing if not brave.

He'd never been this close to her before since she didn't like to be touched. So close he could feel the warmth of her slight body, see the quickened beat of her pulse at her throat, smell the sweet, subtle scent of the jasmine and vanilla body lotion he knew she favored.

Desire rolled and stretched out inside him, lazy and hot. Fuck, she smelled delicious. It woke all the urges that should have been awakened by the sub in Limbo days ago but hadn't.

Not a good sign. Because as much has he wanted to, he wasn't here to dominate her. She wasn't ready even if she'd shown an interest in him. And she'd never shown an interest. Not once.

No, he couldn't satisfy those urges. Information any way he could get it, that's all he was here for.

“Are you challenging me?” Zac murmured softly, looking down into Eva's white face. “Because if you are, you're making a mistake. I'm not a man you want to challenge.”

Her chin came up, courageous to the last. “Yeah and why is that? What are you going to do? You can't force me, Zac.”

He smiled and deliberately let the mask of the gentleman drop. “Oh I won't have to force you, angel. There are ways and means, and believe me, I know all the ways. I can make you want to give it to me.” He let his smile turn savage. “I can make you want to give me everything.”

*   *   *

Eva couldn't move. She could barely breathe. Her fear battered against the walls of her control, demanding she run, screaming at her to back away, throw herself out of the windows, something. Anything to get away from the man standing right in front of her.

Towering over her. Tall and dark and intimidating as a mountain. A demon. It was all she could do not to whimper.

But she wouldn't give into the terror. She never had, not while she was on the streets, not while she was in the house, not when He had had her over and over again, and certainly not now.

Even so, she couldn't quite process the fact that the man she'd always thought of as safe wasn't quite so safe any longer.

On the surface he was the same Zac she knew, wearing a beautifully cut suit even in the middle of the night, every button done up, the collar of his black shirt perfectly pressed, his dull gold silk tie knotted just so.

But something had changed. Like a blade drawn from the scabbard, he was all razor sharp edges and bright, glittering danger. A danger she'd never really understood.

I'm not your fucking pet …

The smile on his face held no amusement, only a savage intent that made her heart race even faster, panic burning in her blood bright as magnesium. It was the smile of a predator, pure and simple. And the look in his amber eyes … wolf's eyes.

She'd always thought the heat in them was anger. But this wasn't anger. This was something else, something far more intense and far more complicated.

The world spun as she became aware of other things, other aspects of him she'd never noticed.

Because you've never let yourself notice.

His height in comparison to hers had always added to that feeling of safety but now … she didn't feel safe. She felt something she couldn't quite pinpoint. It was fear yet there was another element in there like … excitement. The breadth of his shoulders too and the hard strength she knew went right down through muscle and bone to the core of him. The kind of strength you could dash yourself against and never make a mark. The kind of strength you could rest on, that could hold you up. Then there was the absolute authority in his voice. God. As if he knew all the answers to every question she'd ever thought to ask. And the answers would take away all the doubt, all the fear …

Her breath caught, a tight sensation in her chest, a pulse somewhere down low inside her.

Jesus Christ. What the hell was happening to her?

These weren't feelings she'd ever associated with Zac, at least not the Zac Rutherford she knew. But then this man
wasn't
the Zac Rutherford she knew. He was someone different. And he …

Terrifies you?

No, of course
he
didn't terrify her. What a ridiculous thought. Okay, so he wasn't acting like the friend she'd come to know and rely on for the past seven years, but he was still the same guy underneath that. Wasn't he?

“Give you everything, huh?” Ignoring the tremble inside her, the dread that dried her mouth and made her breath catch, Eva forced herself to lift her hands and touch him, smoothing the lapels of his suit in a casual movement. “That sounds ominous.”

She only wanted to prove to herself that these feelings didn't matter. That she wasn't afraid and that he didn't intimidate her.

She'd never touched him before, not once in all the years she'd known him. Yet as soon as her fingertips met the fine wool of his suit, she understood that she'd made a mistake.

Even through the fabric she could feel the heat of his body and the hard, tensile strength that was part of him. Like a wall between herself and a raging fire. And if that wall were to collapse, she would be consumed.

She looked up, unable to stop herself, and as she met his intent, golden gaze, realized she'd only compounded her mistake by looking at him. Because the fire she'd sensed was in his eyes. Burning her to ashes.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” he said softly. And before she could move, before she could even take a breath, his fingers closed around her wrists.

She had no more breath to lose. No smart-ass comebacks or sarcastic put-downs. No more tough-girl veneer. Nothing to put between her and the sensation of his bare skin touching hers.

The first touch in seven years, and she froze on the spot with blind panic.

He didn't hold her tightly but that didn't matter. She hadn't been able to bear anyone's touch after what the shithead in that house had done to her, and the sensation of those strong, scarred and tattooed fingers around her wrists was completely overwhelming.

Before she could even think properly she was wrenching her hands away, stumbling back, falling against the windows and sliding down on her ass, her heart beating so fast she thought she was going to die.

A helpless sound escaped, that whimper of fear she'd been holding back, and she had to close her teeth against the rest that threatened to spill out.

How fucking humiliating.

Zac looked down at where she sat trembling on the floor, neither making a move toward her nor backing away. The expression on his face was neutral, as if she hadn't just collapsed in a heap. “Are you ready to tell me now, Eva?”

She swallowed, every part of her trembling. God, she didn't know if she was angry at how humiliated she felt or relieved that he hadn't said anything about her failure of nerve. Why the hell had she touched him? What on earth had possessed her? And then he'd … touched her in return. Which never, ever happened. It just wasn't what their friendship was about.

After a moment Eva slowly pushed herself back up on her feet, the windows behind her, trying to calm her racing heartbeat. If she pretended the last minute hadn't happened, then it wouldn't have. “Okay, okay,” she said thickly. “I'll tell you.” She couldn't keep denying him, no matter how awful it was to talk about it. He was right, there were other people to consider and those people were important to her. They were her friends, the only family she had. And if there was one thing she'd always wanted, it was a family.

Anyway, if she kept to the facts, then it would be fine. She could keep the details to herself.

Zac folded his arms, waiting.

“When I was sixteen, I was taken by some men. I don't know who they were. I was taken to this nondescript suburban house in upstate New York and … kept there. At first, I kind of liked it because I'd been living on the streets and now I had a proper bed and a roof over my head.” She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans because they'd gotten cold again. Stick to the facts. Only the facts mattered. “I was a prisoner though. I wasn't allowed outside and I didn't understand why they were keeping me until…” She stopped. No, she didn't need to elaborate on that. “Anyway, that guy on the video tape was one of my guards. He—”

“Wait.” Zac's voice was flat and uninflected. “Let's go back to the beginning. What do you mean you were taken by some men?”

They'd never talked about their past. Not once in all the years they'd known each other.
Don't ask, don't tell.
God, so many cans of worms were going to be opened …

She didn't want to go into her shitty family life—what little she'd had. Her crack-head father and the mother who'd left when Eva had been seven. Ostensibly she'd gone to visit relatives in California, but then she'd never come back, so who knew? All that mattered was that Eva had had eight years of dealing with a drug addict dad, finally leaving when she was fifteen because the streets weren't any worse than the crappy apartment full of his drug-addict friends, dealers, and hangers-on. Men who didn't care she was only fifteen, groping her and generally making her feel unsafe. Better to look after herself than to trust someone else who didn't give a shit.

“My dad liked crack,” she said baldly. “And I didn't like him or his friends. So I left.”

Zac's dark brows pulled down. “Left for where?”

He was not going to like this. Not one bit. Ah, well, too bad. He'd have to cope.

Eva met his stare belligerently. “My fucking mansion in the Hamptons. Where do you think? Manhattan's got some nice alleyways in the summer, and there's a few homeless shelters in the winter.”

“So you were on the streets.” His tone was mild but the look on his face was iron.

“Yes I was on the streets. That's where they took me from.”

“You don't know why?”

Now they were getting down to brass tacks. “I was a sixteen-year-old girl. Why do you think?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You were eighteen when I found you. Which means you were kept in that house for two years.”

“Yeah.” She had to swallow again, her throat tight. “I'm not going to tell you specifics of what went on in there, okay? The only thing you need to know is that a man used to come and visit every couple of weekends. I was…”—
say it—
“kept for his use.”

Zac may as well have been carved out of granite for all the movement he made. “Who was he, this man?” His voice was full of gravel and rough edges, the flames in his eyes leaping higher, his anger a living thing, straining at the leash.

“I don't know. I never saw him.” She made herself hold his gaze. Would he think less of her that it had taken her two years to escape? Would he think she'd enjoyed it somehow? “I was blindfolded each time.”

He didn't speak, only stared at her. There was no accusation in his expression, no judgment. But she could feel the weight of his anger like a heavy stone pressing down, crushing her.

“It's not your burden to bear, Zac,” she said tautly. It was too much to have to deal with his anger, let alone her own. “So don't you get any stupid ideas about revenge in your head. Anyway, it's over now. It's history. What matters is that the guy who guarded me is the same guy as on that tape.”

“That's the connection.” It sounded as if he'd forced himself to speak. “The man who held you was related to the Lucky Seven in some way.”

The glass at her back was cold and she could feel that cold seeping through her, into her blood and her bones. It was nothing new. Even in that house she'd felt cold, no matter how high they'd turned up the heat.

“Yeah, it seems that way.”

Zac took a short, almost involuntary-looking step toward her. “It's one of the Devils. It has to be. Either Mantel or Fitzgerald.” The expression on his face was suddenly blazing. “We'll find out which, I promise you.”

There were ice crystals in her blood and her mouth was far, far too dry. Because if anyone could find out the identity of the Man, it would be Zac.

And you don't want to know.

That fear turned over inside her again, the fear she'd told herself for seven years she didn't feel. Because no, she didn't want to know. All she wanted to do was forget.