Page 10 of Four Calling Birds

“That’s right.” He pushed my pants down, and I lifted myself a little bit off the counter so that he could get it down my thighs. The pants bunched at my ankles as he pulled it over one foot, then the other.

His brow creased again as he felt the weight in my trousers. The inner pocket on the inside of the calf. Without permission, he turned the leg inside out, opened the pocket and looked at the small blade. Then the necklace.

My heart stopped as he looked at it with impassive eyes.

I stayed perfectly still. Just waiting for his reaction. Did he recognize it? Would he say anything?

He looked mad. Why was he mad? Maybe he wanted it back? Or… should I have just thrown it away?

He silently put the necklace and the blade on the counter and put the cargo pants on the floor. He then reached up and pulled my sports bra over my head without saying a word. I tried to cover my naked breasts, but the way he looked at my arms made me drop them to my side.

His mouth opened. He took in a deep breath. I had no idea what it meant but my nipples pebbled under his scrutiny. I looked down at myself. There were so many new lines and scars, and jagged pieces on my skin. His eyes didn’t darken with lust. At least, I didn’t think they did. He was probably disgusted with what his wife had become. The scars made me look like a female Frankenstein monster. Like I was a patchwork of mismatched pieces.

Without a word he picked me up and gently lowered me into the claw foot tub.

“Mack, I—”

“Don’t say a fucking word if you know what’s good for you.”

I clamped my mouth shut. His voice was heavy, almost throaty. The demand in it was something he had only ever used when he was in the military, and the way he used it now made me flinch and clench my thighs together at the same time.

“Mack…” I whispered.

He placed a hand over my lips, shushing me.

“Don’t.” His eyes were cruel. Angry. And also filled with a heat that made my breasts feel heavy. “You know what your voice does to me, so don’t…”

He took his hand from my lips as he went into a nearby drawer and pulled out a washcloth. He gently dipped it in the soapy bath water and started to trace it over my arms, my neck, my shoulders… I let out a small moan at the blissful sensation.

“I swear to God, Lotte, shut the fuck up.” There was no anger in his voice now. Just the heaviness of a desperate man trying not to give in to his baser instincts. Was I wrong? Was he still attracted to me? I felt the heat of desire from my core coil up my stomach, spreading to my eager breasts that wanted his attention. I licked my lips, wondering if he still tasted the same…

“If you have the right to see me naked,” I leaned my head back on the lip of the tub, “shouldn’t you have the rights to touch.”

“Lotte…” it was a warning growl. Like a wolf before it attacked.

“I can fuck,” I whispered. “If you can be gentle.”

6. She’s Going to Kill Me

Mack

IfIcanbegentle? What in the hell?

It was one thing to see my wife naked. To touch her. To hear her talk about her newly earned scar… and her banter. God, I was a sucker for a woman with a smart mouth…

But that necklace in her pocket. The small, blue Forget Me Not flower in a clear resin. The weight of it in my hand was so familiar that it stopped me dead in my tracks. I had seen that necklace on her a hundred times. I had envied the way it had dangled between her sweet, supple breasts. How I had wanted my tongue where that necklace had been.

It was the first gift I ever gave her, back when we went surfing in Wrightsville Beach. A stupid, cheap token from a beach side shop, that matched the blue bathing suit she wore. She had it on her, with her lucky blade.

My mind was screaming. Blaring out the words, “She still loves you! Look!”

It was fucking with my head. Fucking with my body.

I wasn’t turned on when she got naked. Her injured body did nothing for me. But the memories of the salty sea on her skin, the necklace against the groove between her breasts and the fact that she kept it on her… I could have passed out with all the warring feelings that clouded my vision and screamed for me to hold onto her.

Don’t let her go. Don’t let her out of your sight. She’s back. She’s yours. CLAIM HER!

Of all the great evils in Pandora’s box, the last one was Hope. And that bit of evil was writhing around my chest like a worm going through rotten meat.

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