CARESSED BY ICE

But she didn’t pull away. In fact, she wrapped her arms around his neck and tensed. His body knew what she wanted though he’d never before touched her so intimately. Releasing her from his possessive hold, he caught her as she jumped to wrap her legs around his body. Holding on tight, he backed into a wall but didn’t turn to press her against it. Because she was trembling. Scared.

He broke the kiss and, blinking past the blackness crawling at the edges of his vision, raised one hand to brush the hair off her face. “Why are you scared of physical contact?” She’d been raped on the mental plane. Of course there were physical repercussions—such a deep violation of the psyche was a nightmare most people couldn’t imagine, much less endure. But he sensed there was something more to her fear.

Her lower lip trembled and a single tear formed at the corner of her eye. “He didn’t just mess with my mind.” It was a pained whisper.

He knew Enrique had hurt her body, cut her, beaten her but—“Sexual abuse?” Fury burned a cold fire in his veins.

“Not rape like we think of it,” she said, fingers digging into his shoulders. “I mean, he did that to my mind—tore it open and forced me to see things I didn’t want to see, put things in there that weren’t my own thoughts, things that are still in there. I wash and I wash, but I can’t get them out!”

“I know.” He let her nuzzle her face into his neck, stroking his hand over her hair. “But he did other things.” Acts she hadn’t revealed during the healing sessions.

A jerky nod. “He—he liked to demonstrate his telekinetic control by forcing objects inside my body using only his Psy skills.”

Red blazed in his mind and it wasn’t pain. Gritting his teeth, he made himself stay silent and listen.

“I was so ashamed,” she whispered, her cheek wet against his skin. “I was a wolf changeling—stronger, faster, desperate—and I couldn’t stop him. Sometimes he’d untie me but hold me down telekinetically so it’d be like I was holding myself down . . . like I was cooperating. Then he’d experiment with my pain thresholds. Mostly it was mental, but sometimes . . . sometimes he’d decide to see what my body could take.”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of.” How could she have even thought that? “Enrique was a cardinal Tk and a killer. He bears all the blame.”

Her arms tightened. “I’m starting to believe in myself again, but anytime something sexual happens, I associate it with him. I can’t seem to break the link though I know it’s not right. I know not all men are like him, but . . .”

“What he did was about pain. This is about pleasure.” Even a rebel Arrow knew that distinction.

Her tears stayed silent. Heartbreakingly so. “He made my body feel pleasure, messed with my mind until he controlled my responses and made me enjoy every humiliating, degrading thing he did.” Shame layered her whispered words.

Judd wished Enrique weren’t dead so he could torture the bastard. He’d keep him alive, make him suffer. You could cut off parts of a man without killing him for days, weeks if you were patient. “Enrique was a Tk,” he repeated, “with only midlevel telepathy. He wanted to tear into your mind, but he never reached the inner core, the part that governs your emotions. He didn’t have that ability. When he made your body respond, he did so by controlling your nerves.”

Brenna had gone quiet, as if concentrating on his factual explanation.

“You were always aware of what was happening, weren’t you?”

A warm breath against his neck. “It was like I could watch what he was doing to me but not stop it. I hated it, but my body did whatever he wanted.”

“So there was no pleasure, only a physical response.”

“Aren’t they the same?” Raising her head, she looked him in the eye, the tears having left her gaze strangely clear.

“The order is wrong.” He knew the logic, had been taught it as part of the conditioning process. When he saw her frown, he decided to prove his point. “If I told you I think you have the most beautiful body I’ve ever seen, would you feel pleasure?”

A blush colored her cheeks. “Do you mean that or are you making a hypothetical point?”

“I mean every word.” She was soft and curvy and lushly female. Perfect.

“Of course that would make me happy.” She brushed a kiss over his lips and it was so unexpected, he had to scramble to regather his thoughts.

“What if a stranger on a dark street said the same?”

“I’d get out of there as fast as my legs would carry me.” She made a face. “You’re saying pleasure is dictated by the heart and mind. I trust you, think you’re sexy as hell, and so you pleasure me. Another man, while he might somehow be able to force my body to react, would give me no pleasure.”