Beneath the Scars (Masters of the Shadowlands #13)(56)

On Friday, Holt finally had the energy and time to clean up his place. Fuck knew, he didn’t like living in a mess.

After a couple of hours, he had the kitchen and bathroom scrubbed down, his laundry done, and he’d moved on to the living room. Swiping at a cobweb, he caught an eight-legged inhabitant with it. “Sorry, guy, you need to live outside.”

As he walked out the front to shake the cobweb—and spider—off the duster, he heard Imagine Dragons playing from Josie’s house. Interesting. Her appearance would suggest a Celtic music fan. Her Texas accent said country-western. Instead, she liked alternative rock and the odd mixes Z played in the Shadowlands. Everyone in the club enjoyed watching her dance in place as she mixed drinks.

He smiled. Last Saturday with her had been amazing. She’d been nervous, but she’d trusted him to take care of her. Was authentic in her physical responses. Had loved being bound and taken to the edge of pain, over and over. The way she’d felt in his arms had been…right.

Too right. He’d been a Dom a long time and couldn’t remember when he’d felt so close to anyone. From the way she’d watched him, softened against him, listened to him, she’d felt the same way. He’d been the entire focus of all her attention—just as she’d been his.

There was something between them—and it was a hell of a lot more than just lust. Hell, his spirits lifted at the mere thought of seeing her.

He’d never met anyone quite like her. He loved the way she saw the world with a child’s eyes. Hell, she probably wouldn’t be surprised if fairies danced in the garden at night or if Carson started to levitate. Yet she was uncommonly down-to-earth, able to deal with everything from unhappy teenagers to upset Dominants. And she listened to people with all her attention and with an open, caring heart. Whatever she’d suffered in the past had left her wary of men—and had given her an ocean-deep empathy for others.

Yeah, he’d fallen right into caring a fuck of a lot for her.

He took a step toward her house and stopped.

No, dumbass, this was her writing time. Even more than that, he didn’t want her to feel pressured by a man living next door. He had a wary submissive here, and he’d have to take care.

Frowning, he turned and went back inside. She reminded him of some of the trauma patients he’d cared for, the ones unable to move, stuck in replays of what had happened. Josie wasn’t playing games with him. After being burned in the past, she simply didn’t want to be vulnerable again. In fact, she might not even realize how thoroughly she’d fenced herself in.

Yet her response to him showed she wanted more.

He’d give her more.

Tonight, he’d assess and then slowly and steadily take this relationship a step further.

As he stowed the vacuum away, he heard a car pull into his driveway. The guys from the firehouse tended to swing by if they were in the area.

He opened the front door…and scowled.

Dressed in one of her fancy stockbroker suits, Nadia was strolling up the sidewalk.

Well, fuck. “What brings you here?” His tone wasn’t welcoming.

“Holt. You look much better. Your poor face.” Her pale green gaze tracked the scar from his temple to his mouth and lingered on the rougher scars on his chin.

“I’m doing well, thanks. Are you here for a reason?” he asked again.

Her strawberry-blonde hair was loose. Fluffy. The way he’d told her he liked…and she’d rarely worn.

Josie was a green-eyed redhead, too. But different. Her short hair was dark copper, and her eyes held the mesmerizing darkness of evergreens. And, like an evergreen, she had an unshakable character. Nadia was more like a hothouse orchid.

Yeah, there we go, good analogy, he decided, amused at himself. Nadia would wilt at the first frost. Josie would stand strong through a blizzard.

“What are you smiling at?” Head tilted, Nadia looked up through darkened eyelashes. Flirting, for fuck’s sake. “Are you pleased to see me?”

“No. I’d like you to—”

Before he could finish, she went up on tiptoe and planted a kiss on his lips. “I missed you, my darling.”

Leaning into him, she flattened her palms on his chest. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, but I just…I couldn’t stand seeing you so hurt. It destroyed me.”

Destroyed her? He hesitated. Had he been too harsh? No. In the hospital, she stared at his scars—and looked repulsed, not destroyed. There’d been no tears. In fact, even before she’d seen him, she’d arranged to hit happy hour with her friend. She sure hadn’t planned to stand vigil at his bedside. This wasn’t love.

He waited for the pain to hit. Nope, no pain.

He’d been in love with an imaginary person. It had hurt like fuck when she walked out of his hospital room without even coming close enough to touch him. Didn’t hurt now. Sure, she was smart, and they’d had good times together, in bed and out. He missed having someone in his bed and in the evenings. Not especially her.

Her lips curved up in a satisfied smile. While he’d been thinking and not moving, she figured she’d gotten to him. “You know, the winter charity ball is coming up. I’d like to go with you. It will show everyone we’re back together.”

Not happening.

He shook his head. “We’re not back together, Nadia. In fact, it’s time for you to leave.”