In His Keeping (Slow Burn #2)

She cracked open one eye, wincing as the light seemed to pierce her eyeball like a needle. Beau had turned back around, his dark eyes even darker with concern as he viewed her cradled in Zack’s arms.


“She almost took a header,” Zack said grimly.

In response to the softly worded explanation, Ari let out another low sound of distress.

Beau immediately closed the distance between them and very carefully took her from Zack’s arms.

“Lay your head on my shoulder, honey,” Beau whispered. “I’m going to take you back to bed and Zack is going to get your medicine. Everything is going to be all right. I promise. Try to relax and school your thoughts. Focus on something soothing and relaxing, something happy and mellow. Or just blank your mind completely if you can manage that.”

The low cadence of his voice, while roaringly loud, was oddly soothing. Or perhaps it was the vibration, the low rumble from his chest that was a balm to her frayed nerves.

He carried her like she was the most precious, fragile thing in the world, like she . . . mattered, careful not to jar her in any way. The covers were still in disarray and he laid her down onto the mattress and then pulled and straightened the sheets around her, pausing only briefly to ensure her bandage was still in place underneath her shirt.

She was barely aware when Zack entered and she turned her face into the pillow, trying to muffle the sound of the jangle of pills in the bottle as Zack shook two of them out and reached over to carefully put them to her lips.

“Open up, sweetheart,” Zack murmured. “I brought you a little milk to take them with since you didn’t eat breakfast.”

She vaguely wondered why Beau wasn’t administering the medication but then her unspoken inquiry was answered when Beau very gently lifted her head, just enough so she could open her mouth and allow the pills to be placed between her lips. She was astonished by the effort it took to simply roll them to the back of her throat with her tongue. Then Beau lifted her the barest of inches more and Zack held the glass to her mouth and tilted it, careful not to allow too much of it into her mouth. Which was good because the pain had made her so nauseated that she feared anything she swallowed would simply come right back up.

The task accomplished, Zack withdrew and Beau sat on the edge of the bed, running his hand down her hair, pushing it away from her face in a soothing motion.

“Hurt,” Ari said. It was the only word she could muster. Something felt terribly wrong, but she couldn’t articulate what or for that matter anything at all.

“I know, honey. I’m so sorry. I should have flattened the jackass the minute he opened his mouth. He had no right to attack you that way,” Beau said darkly.

“He’s . . . brother . . .”

Her intended admonishment that Caleb was Beau’s brother and nothing was more important than family had narrowed to the only two words she managed to form. But it was enough to get her message across.

Beau stroked her hair, not responding to her words. He acted as though he hadn’t heard them. Or perhaps he simply chose to ignore them all together.

“After the medicine has had time to work, I’m going to get you out of these clothes so you’re more comfortable,” Beau said, continuing the soothing caresses up and down her body. “Try to relax, honey. I know it’s hard, but try for me.”

“Asked . . . me . . .”

A brief look of confusion skittered across his forehead as he leaned in closer so he could hear her barely audible words.

“What did I ask you, Ari?”

“To . . . stay. What . . . did . . . mean?”

His expression softened and his hand went to her forehead, his thumb pressing into her brow and rubbing along the lines, applying just enough pressure that it was soothing.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he said simply.

“Why?”

Her eyelids were growing heavier and heavier and she didn’t want to go under yet. She wanted to hear why. Sluggishly her eyelids fluttered, half closed, and then the room seemed to go dimmer and dimmer.

“Beau?” she asked fearfully, wondering why the room was going dark.

“I’m here,” he said. “Medicine working yet?”

“Why?” she persisted, determined not to surrender to the pull of the medication until he answered her question.

He hesitated, seeming to wage an internal battle, almost as if he couldn’t decide whether to tell her or not. She reached blindly, searching for his hand. Her anchor.

His hand closed around hers and immediately warmth spread up her arm and into her chest. He lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to her palm.

“Because you’re mine,” he said simply.





TWENTY-ONE

BEAU stalked out of the bedroom, his face set in stone. He knew the others had moved to the living room because he heard voices in that direction. He was so pissed he literally couldn’t see straight. Rage formed a red haze that made his vision cloudy.

As soon as he strode into the living room Dane looked up and said, “Oh shit.”