The room was as masculine as Dax's but had more personal touches. I wondered why he kept pictures of him with his friends in a guest room and not his own, but men were strange creatures. I recognized him at much younger ages in almost all the photos and smiled at how carefree he seemed. At the end of the dresser sat a frame with what I assumed was him with Jeremy. They were crowd deep in a family cookout, and I recognized a little bitty Julie in Jeremy's arms. Her hair was just as unique then as it was now. When I opened the closet to toss my bag inside, the musty-or maybe stale-smell hit me like a wave of heat. Rollerblades and cleats lined the floor, a body board and skis stood in the corner, and a lifejacket hung on a hanger-alone. Instinctively, I reached up to touch the floatation device, overwhelmed by sadness. But before my fingers met the material, Dax's hand grabbed at my elbow and the bruises surrounding it, pulling it down with more force than necessary.
"Don't touch it."
I waited for him to continue, say something else, but instead, he picked up my bag from the floor with his free hand and ushered me out the door and across the hall by my elbow. I wasn't a child caught with my hand in the cookie jar and didn't appreciate treatment as such. The force of his grasp scared me, and my only thought became escape. But he dropped my arm as quickly as he'd taken it, along with my stuff on the floor. Without a single word, he stomped out of the room and closed the door behind him. The air caught the weight of the wood, and it crashed shut, causing me to jump at the stark sound in the silent space.
I didn't have a clue what I'd done, but somehow, I'd screwed up. My hands twisted with each other while fear and paranoia took hold of my thoughts. I desperately wanted to go home-to the comfort of my things: my bed, my music, my stuff...my life. I still didn't have a damn cell phone, but I had been smart enough to get my friends to write their numbers down for me in case I needed them. There was a landline in Dax's bedroom-I'd seen it when we toured the house-now I just had to figure out how to get to it without alerting him.
With my ear pressed against the door, I listened for sounds of activity on the other side. When I heard nothing but silence, I dared to crack, and then open it and move down the hall in silence. The shower ran in his bathroom, but there was no way he could have been in there long. Inhaling deeply, I steeled my resolve, crossed the floor, and picked up the phone. Sutton was my best bet-uber protective and would die trying to kick Dax's ass if she thought he had hurt me in any way.
Thank God, she answered the unknown number when I called. "Sutton, I don't have time to talk, get a piece of paper and listen to me."
"Jesus, okay, Cam. What's going on?"
"I'm at Dax's house. I have no idea where my car is, I don't have a cell phone, and I want to go home. Will you please come pick me up?" I could only hope she heard the desperation in my voice and didn't waste time dwelling on the whys in favor of responding.
"Your car's at your house. Rachel and I got it out of impound the other day. I thought you were getting a new cell when you left the hospital."
"Seriously? Are you going to come get me or not?" Incensed my eyes darted from the phone to the bathroom door and back.
"Yeah, sure. What's the address?"
"Fuck, I don't know, Sutton."
"How the hell am I supposed to pick you up if you can't tell me where you are, Cam?" She'd gone from willing to frustrated faster than I could formulate answers.
I gave her directions the best I could remember. But I'd lived in this area my entire life so I could give general instructions on how to get just about anywhere. Fortunately, Sutton knew where I was talking about, and the fountain made for a vivid landmark. She promised she'd be here in twenty minutes, so I hung up and scurried out of the room right as the water stopped.
Thankfully, my new room-the one Dax had abruptly left me in-faced the front of the house. Sutton had agreed not to pull into the driveway or honk. I promised to keep an eye out and would come when I saw her pull up. The second I caught a glimpse of her car on the street, I crept down the stairs. The TV played in the family room, so I gingerly opened the front door.
As soon as I could see the light of day through the crack, an electronic voice chimed, "Front door ajar." There was no way I had been so preoccupied or enamored with his home when we came in that I'd missed that obnoxious reminder.
Out of options and my choice made, I closed the door once I was on the other side of it and ran the best I could for Sutton's car. Each step sent pain through my hips and arms and reminded me of every bruise on my body.
But the fountain didn't cover the noise of the front door opening. I didn't have to look back to know who it was. Dax's feet hammered the ground behind me as he called out my name. "Cameron. Wait!"
Sutton was now out of the car readying herself to step between Dax and me. But he caught me with an arm around the waist from behind-shooting me back to the night in the parking lot. Reality escaped me, instincts sent me into fight or flight, panicked and trying to get away when we hit the grass. My brain couldn't discern whether I was against a brick wall without my panties or on the grass in a bear hug. All I felt was pain. Clawing at the ground, afraid to open my eyes and scrambling to get away, I sobbed for Dax. He hadn't been there that night, but my subconscious believed he could save me.
"Dax, please...," I pleaded between cries. I needed him, needed him to stop this man from hurting me.
"Baby, I'm right here."
"Please let me go." My arms flailed and my legs kicked. Even with my eyes open and the day bright around me, I couldn't see reality. I wept, begging my attacker to let me be...repeating his name, over and over on the broken hiccup of a sob.
"Cam, look at me."
I'd heard the words but wasn't able to attach them to security.
In a firmer, authoritative voice, he reiterated, "Cameron. Look. At. Me."
My eyes blurred with tears, but I could see the green of his. My comfort. I relaxed in his arms, although the tears didn't stop. The shelter only provided a safe place to come undone.
Sutton screamed a few feet away. "What the hell just happened?"
Her question might have been directed at him, or maybe me, but I didn't know since I couldn't respond. And since I hadn't responded, Dax did.
"She has triggers-although, I don't know what caused this one. They send her back to the night she was hurt."
"Jesus, has this happened before?"
"This morning with the officers who were trying to take her statement. I don't know what happened then either because I wasn't in the room, just that she did the same thing. A blood-curdling cry followed by a name, repeating it like a chant that would somehow end her nightmare."
"Cam, sweetie," Sutton cooed in the softest voice the military allowed her to use. "You don't need to be alone. Why don't you come to my house tonight? I'll get the rest of the girls to come over." She'd been to war, served the United States government in the armed forces, and she needed backup. God, even my friends didn't want to deal with this shit.
"She's not leaving my house, Sutton." He stood with me still tucked in his arms, turning toward the house.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Dax? You can't hold her hostage." Sutton had launched into angry, protective-friend mode, having snapped out of whatever had overwhelmed her like the flick of a light switch.
"I'm not holding her hostage. This is where she needs to be." He was firm in his response, and I already knew he wouldn't concede, regardless of what she said.
"She needs to be with people who love her, not some barbaric ass out to prove himself." She'd just issued a challenge, and she didn't back down from them.
"Was she crying your name, pleading for you to save her, Sutton? No. She wasn't. She was sobbing mine, begging me. You and your friends are welcome in my home anytime, but do not come here thinking you're going to take Cam away because you love her."
I stayed silent, clinging to his neck the best I could with one good arm and one in a cast.
"Dax! Stop this shit. She needs us!" Sutton wailed and followed us inside.
He settled into a chair in the family room that welcomed the two of us as one and then turned off the television. I could see my friend from my peripheral vision, standing motionless in the doorway. But my eyes had grown heavy, and I struggled to keep the lids open.
As though he could sense my needs, he tipped his mouth to my ear, and cooed, "Sleep, baby. I've got you."
I allowed my eyes to close, promising myself I could still listen to their conversation as he stroked my hair, and I nervously traced the scab on my lip where the stitches had been.
"She's my responsibility, Sutton. I'm not going to argue with you. You're upsetting her."
"I'm upsetting her? She called me to come pick her up. Where the hell were you when that conversation took place?"
But I missed his response when I succumbed to sleep.
I woke to dark windows and stars in the sky with all four of my friends on the floor of the family room. And when I attempted to stretch my cramped muscles, two huge, unrelenting arms locked around me tightly. Dax relaxed his hold when he realized I was awake and only trying to get comfortable, not fight him.
"Hey, kitten, did you sleep well?"
I glanced at him and then around the room. I hadn't thought things could have been any more off when I woke up in a hospital bed, but finding my friends comfortable in Dax's home was just as off-putting. "What are you guys doing here?"
Rachel, the loudmouth, piped up first. "Apparently, Dax went all fierce on Sutton. She called us and refused to leave. By the time we all got here, everyone had calmed down, but you were out like the damn dead in his arms."
I knew she had more to say when she took in a deep breath before continuing.
"We've all agreed this is the best place for you to be for now, Cammy." Ahh, fuck. She used a childhood nickname to coddle me. "Fisher gave Dax the name of a psychiatrist, who's supposed to be the best in town for dealing with sexual trauma. We think you should stay with him while you go to counseling."
"Are you guys fucking crazy? I'm not staying here. I want to go home. I want to be in my house, where life is familiar. I don't even know Dax." My choice of words seemed a bit ironic since he was the person I pled for every time something sent me hurdling back to the events of the assault. I felt him tense at my words and knew I'd hurt him.
"Sorry, Cammy. Dax made good points we couldn't argue with. He isn't working, so he has the freedom to be with you all the time and can take you to and from appointments. He can deal with your...episodes." She hesitated, looking for that word but not knowing what else to call it.
"And let's be honest, Cam, his voice seems to be the only thing that pulls you out of them." Piper always had to be rational, but I couldn't believe she was selling me out to Dax.
I attempted to pull away from him, hurt. My friends didn't want me. Dax saw me as a responsibility. I wiggled free and stood on shaky legs. "I'm sorry I'm such a burden for you guys," I apologized while meeting each of my friends' pathetic looks before turning to Dax. "And a responsibility to you."
My heated glare scorched Dax. My feet took me stomping out of the room and up the stairs to the room I'd been sequestered to earlier. After locking the door behind me, I threw myself onto the bed and winced the instant I landed. I could hear them all talking in the family room through the vents, and it did nothing but further upset me.
"We knew she wouldn't take it well. Dax, you have to understand how independent she is. She hasn't relied on anyone since her parents died. She's going to want to go back to work. She's going to fight you on pressing charges. Hell, she's going to challenge you on everything you try to make her do. I hope you know what you're in for, because your life is about to be all kinds of complicated." Charlie sent a fair and honest warning.
"I can handle it." His indignant response was insufferable.
"So help me God, Dax, if you hurt her, I will kill you. I don't mean I will be a little bitch who annoys the shit out of you. I mean, I will take a forty-five to your goddamn head and blow it off." Sutton's years in the Army had eliminated her ability to sugar-coat anything for anyone, and if she said she'd kill him-it wasn't an idle threat.
I heard the front door open, accompanied by the automated voice, and then listened for it to close. The house went silent, except for the heavy footsteps on the stairs.
Then came the tap on the door.
"What?" I felt childish after the hissy fit I'd just thrown in front of my friends and a guy I had all kinds of crazy, mixed-up emotions over. It was embarrassing, and I just wanted to be alone.
"Open the door, kitten."
"No."
"Open the fucking door, or I will kick it in." It was amazing how menacing his words were, but his tone wasn't the slightest bit intimidating. He'd issued the warning without raising his voice, but I also knew he was serious...and it wasn't my house.
Without a word, I stood and unlocked it, but didn't open it before I went back to the bed and buried my face in a pillow. The door creaked when it opened, and seconds later, the mattress dipped under Dax's weight, but I refused to acknowledge him.
"When I came back from Juilliard, Jeremy moved in with me. He was my best friend, my brother. Our families are so intertwined most people don't know where one ends and the other one begins." His heavy sigh garnered my attention, but I didn't lift my head. "He didn't want to live at home, I had the house, and he was here so much working on it, it just made sense for him to live here.
"When he died, I never touched a thing in his room. I left everything exactly where it was. And it stayed that way until about a year after he passed away when I had the maid go through his clothes and donate them to Goodwill. But other than that, nothing has been touched except to dust-the closet never gets opened. Everything in that room is exactly how he left it ten years ago. I never stepped foot in it again. I should have explained when I found you in there, but I wasn't thinking. I told you any room because in my mind that meant any room but that one...because that's Jeremy's. I'm sorry."
I remained silent-heartbroken. This man who outwardly was authoritative, controlling, demanding, domineering, and completely alpha, was weak, too. The fissures in his armor all pointed to Jeremy, a heartache that would probably never heal. The fountain, the bedroom, the things in it-they were all memories of a man he would never see again on this side of eternity.
"So, whose room is this? Are you going to throw me out of it next? Since you won't allow me to go home, I need to know what you will and will not permit me to touch and do in your home." It was a cheap, petty shot, but I took it anyway because I had lost the illusion of control. I wasn't able to cope with the intimacy of my pain, much less his-lashing out prevented both.
"It's your room, Cam. You can do whatever you'd like in it. If you want to decorate it, paint it, color on the walls, I don't care. But, while you're in my home, you will treat me with respect. You will not act like a child."
"Respect? Are you kidding me? You want me to respect someone who's holding me captive? Who convinced the only family I know this is where I should be, against my will?" The anger I felt radiated out through heat in my cheeks. I could only imagine my skin burned a hundred shades of red.
"It's late, Cameron. I'm not going to debate respect with you. I do believe this is where you should be because it's where I can provide for you best. If you consider that being held captive, you can leave after you meet with the psychiatrist-if she agrees you shouldn't be here. Your appointment is tomorrow at ten. Surely you can suffer through one night." He got up to leave.
"Why do you feel responsible for me, Dax? You didn't create this problem. You weren't even there. It's not like you failed me in some way or handed me over to the man who hurt me. I didn't even know you."
"Because you're mine, Cam." With that, he closed the door behind him.
The sound of his retreating steps left me with more questions than answers. He was insane-his proclamation asinine. I didn't belong to anyone and hadn't since my parents' death. This wasn't some cheesy romance novel where all the pieces magically fit into place.
I wanted to believe I controlled my destiny.
I didn't need anyone else to claim me, nor did I want it.
The nightshirt I changed into didn't bring the comfort I'd hoped. It still smelled medicinal from my time at the hospital, but I didn't have any other options. I folded my dirty clothes the best I could with one good arm and put them in the bag, and when I stuffed them into the closet, there was a light knock on the door. But the hallway was empty, except for a T-shirt and pair of men's boxers that sat by my foot. The note on top welcomed me to anything I wanted in the kitchen if I got hungry, but the thought of food made my stomach turn and bile rise in my throat.
But the clothes were a welcomed distraction, and I couldn't get them on fast enough. Dax's woodsy scent engulfed my senses, and sleep took over the moment I climbed under the covers and put my head on the pillow.
His hands tore at my blouse, and my bra ripped from my arms. Fighting as hard as I could, I still couldn't break free-I couldn't escape. The sound of torn lace ripped through my mind like a bullhorn to the ear, but the second the intrusion stopped, my eyes popped open. The sheen of the metal pipe caught on a light I couldn't see as he pulled it from his pocket. He tortured the skin on my thighs with the ragged edge, digging into the flesh. The cold, smooth metal sent a chill of terror up my spine when it parted my legs. But the temperature did nothing to dull the pain when it sliced through my most sacred place. A scream tore through me in agony.
"Cameron! Wake up!"
I jolted forward, drawing my knees to my chest in an attempt to shield my body from the onslaught. I had no idea where I was-the darkness was blinding-and this was unfamiliar. It wasn't the hospital, and it wasn't my house. Ragged breaths raked through my lungs, and my heart thrummed in my ears
"Cameron," the ominous voice called out again. The call of my name, the peace in his tone, it begged my attention. The figure kneeling half on and half off the bed held his ground. Dax. "Look at me, Cam."
I could see the outline of his face and the shadows of his features, but I couldn't see his eyes. The sage green.
"Light. Please. The light."
He understood what I tried to say as he reached up to pull the chain on the ceiling fan. The instant his features were illuminated, I grabbed his cheek in my hand, staring deep into the depths of greyish green and hints of yellow striations-finding my solace. Even without my admission, he knew they grounded me, and he stared into my soul completely exposed. But through my panic, he stayed controlled. Picking me up, he carried me down the hall to his room. There was no discussion of what we were doing or what I needed when he set me on the bed and crawled in behind me. I probably should have argued, but instead, I pulled the covers up and allowed him to slide his arm under my neck just before he hooked my waist and drew me impossibly closer.
"You shouldn't have been in there to begin with." He referred to the bedroom, but I didn't know why.
"But you told me to use that room." I'd missed something along the way that left me completely muddled. He'd told me to use that room-I could do anything I wanted to it.
"It is yours to do what you want in, but it's not where you'll be sleeping anymore."
"I don't understand, Dax. You're confusing the hell out of me."
With a slight adjustment, he turned me over to face him. "Did I make my intentions clear in your office weeks ago when I asked you to dinner?"
"You didn't ask me. You ordered me."
"That's not my point. Did you understand my intentions?"
"That you wanted to get me in your bed? Yeah, I got that loud and clear. Oh, and look, here I am. Guess that worked out for you, huh?" I huffed with exasperation.
"Good God, Cam. First of all, I never said I wanted you in my bed. I told you to meet me for dinner, and we would discuss the rest then. Was there any doubt in your mind what I wanted to discuss?"
"No, I figured you were looking for a fuck buddy and assumed I would be quiet about it because of my job. Hence, the reason I didn't show."
He laughed.
I mean, genuinely laughed at me.
My brows came together in a show of disdain.
"Bullshit, you didn't show because you were afraid and unwilling to give up control-which, kitten, you will give up. I know you heard my conversation with Julie that day at her desk. I know you heard her ask me if I had gone all Dom on you. I also know you heard me say I didn't believe a word of what she said-you are submissive. So, you knew my intentions on some level. You further knew I was serious in regards to my intentions when I never left your side in the hospital. Did you not?"
"Yes. No. God, Dax. I don't know." I couldn't explain my confusion when I didn't understand it myself-the attraction to him, the way he made me question who I was, everything I had believed about myself suddenly turned upside down every time he was in my presence.
"Then let me make this clear for you. I've watched you for well over a year. I could have had any number of women during that time, but I didn't-haven't wanted to and still don't. I want you. I will have you in every sense of the word, but not until you're ready. You will, however, sleep in my bed. You will let me hold you. You will allow me to comfort you. You will allow me to take care of you.
"None of those things are optional, Cam. You don't belong in another room; you belong with me, here. You don't have nightmares with me. You don't fall prey to triggers with me. You cry for me when they hit you. Subconsciously, you know you need me in the way I need you. The rest of it will come in time but understand, in no uncertain terms-from the top of your head to the tips of your toes-You. Belong. To. Me."
"I don't belong to anyone, Dax."
"Oh, you do. You're mine. You know it, and you can't explain it-and that's what scares the shit out of you most."
I chose to ignore his proclamation and tucked my head into the nook of his shoulder, wondering how my life had taken this turn.
"Good night, kitten," he whispered and then kissed the top of my head.
