Covert Game (GhostWalkers #14)

She dared to push at the black, wavy hair spilling every which way. She liked that his hair was unruly. He was always so cool. Calm. Everything she wasn’t. “It’s just that I can hardly breathe without you, and it doesn’t make sense. I don’t want to be one of those clingy, needy women who can’t make a decision without their man, but I’m terrified I’m really that woman.”

His hands slid over her feet with exquisite gentleness. “You were made for me, Zara. We fit for a reason. You’re hell on wheels when you’re doing your research or talking about your ideas in your chosen field. I’m proud of you for that, but I don’t want you making household decisions without me. Our home will be sacred. Ours. What we do there belongs to us and no one else. Our relationship is for us alone, no one else belongs in our choices. I like you clingy and needy. I like that you want to talk over decisions. That’s a good thing, not a bad one.”

She sent him a small relieved smile, but she knew it wasn’t the real thing. Her nerves were coiled tightly in her belly. “I’m trying to get used to feeling that I’m okay just the way I am.”

“Baby, you’re still not telling me what’s really bothering you, and that’s not going to make me happy.”

She should have known he would be able to see that she was holding something back. He could read her like a book. She took a deep breath and then made her confession, knowing he wasn’t going to be happy when she told him. Either way … “I tried putting my full weight on my feet this morning when you were taking a shower.”

His long fingers stopped stroking her feet. His black eyes met hers, and the impact sank her heart. He wasn’t in the least bit happy with her and she detested that she’d let him down.

“I thought we agreed you were going to wait.”

She nodded. “I know. I know I should have. Please don’t get upset with me.”

He was silent for a long moment and then he lifted her into his arms and carried her through the house to the front porch. He put her very gently in one of the rocking chairs and then crouched down to lift her feet up, placing each on his knee, his hands moving very gently over them, while he examined them again, this time inspecting each carefully, bending her toes, moving her foot at the ankle. She did her best not to wince when pain shot up her leg and down into her toes.

“I need you to listen, Zara. To really hear what I’m saying to you. Not just for now, but for the future. Our future. I need you to hear me and remember what I say.” He looked up, waiting until her eyes met his.

The powerful collision sent shock waves through her. Those black eyes gleamed at her, dark and compelling. A hint of anger swirled there. She found she couldn’t look away, her stomach dropping and tension coiling deep. The obsidian could be as cold as ice, or on fire, like now. “I’m listening, Gino.”

“I don’t get angry over too many things. I’m not built that way. You hurt yourself, I’m going to get fucking crazy. You didn’t have to test your feet. Nonny and I both told you to wait. We both said they were damaged and the healing was going to be slow.”

She ducked her head. He was so right. Both had cautioned her repeatedly, but she hated being helpless. It was very, very boring to lie in bed or sit in a chair while people waited on her. She was used to doing for the others when she was in Whitney’s compound. She loved cooking and she wanted her chance in the kitchen with Nonny like the other women. To do that, she had to stand on her own feet. When she’d wiggled her toes in the morning and they hadn’t hurt, she’d decided to try to put her weight on them.

He caught her chin and raised it, forcing her to look at him. “Didn’t we both say that to you, because I distinctly remember it?”

There was a bite to his voice that sent a little frisson of fear through her body. He was disappointed in her, and she didn’t like it. It hurt that she’d disappointed Gino. Somewhere deep where she lived and breathed she wanted him happy, especially with her.

“I’m sorry.” She touched his face because she needed the connection. His fingers were long and strong, stroking over her feet so gently it turned her heart over. She stroked the shadow along his jaw with equal gentleness. “I really am, Gino. Sometimes I feel desperate to walk.”

“I know it’s hard waiting, Zara. I hate this for you, but hurting yourself isn’t the answer, and every time you put weight on your feet, it’s going to hurt them. That only makes the healing process take longer.”

She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She needed the anger and disappointment gone from his eyes. There was no defense. Nonny had even sat with her one evening and explained that the damage to her tendons was severe and she might not ever be able to run or walk without some pain. The poultices were helping the healing process, but it was essential to give her feet the time to heal.

“Most of the time, caning the feet hurts like hell, but there’s no permanent damage. Zhu knew what he was doing and he deliberately concentrated the strokes to do the most damage. He not only wanted to break you, he wanted to make certain that he slowed you down so you couldn’t run from him.”

The strikes to her feet had seemed to go on forever. She remembered screaming. She’d tried to stop, but there was no way when the pain was excruciating. He hit the arches of her feet repeatedly, so many times she lost count. Then he hit the heels and balls of her feet and then the sides. He’d done the same to the tops of her feet until they were mangled and bleeding. She’d begged him to stop, promised him anything to get him to stop. His expression had never changed, he just kept hitting her.

Gino brushed tears from her face. “Baby, don’t cry. I’m not trying to be harsh with you, I just don’t want you to hurt yourself or do any more permanent damage.”

“Sometimes,” she whispered, looking around her, trying to center herself back in Louisiana, in the States, “I feel it happening all over again. I can hear the whistle of the cane or the whip right before it strikes.”

He cupped the back of her head in his palm and pulled her head against his shoulder, stroking his hand down the length of her hair. “You’re safe now. He can’t reach you.”

She knew better, but she wasn’t going to argue with him. “I’m all right, and I promise, I won’t be silly and try standing again, not without you giving me the go-ahead.”

He kissed the top of her foot and gently placed it on the pillow he’d brought outside with them. “What happened when you tried to put weight on your feet?”

“It was painful, but not like it was before. Not excruciating.” She was silent, biting her lip when he continued to look at her. God, he was annoying at times. She couldn’t help but confess, just blurt out the truth when he looked at her like that. He would never have to resort to torture. “It still is kind of bad.”

“Were you going to tell me the level of pain?”

Her stomach did a slow roll. “Probably not.” She wouldn’t have told him she was in pain for any reason if he wasn’t looking at her like that.

“Don’t do that again. Don’t keep important shit from me, you understand? You hurt, I want to know about it, even if it’s stubbing your toe or jamming a finger.”

He meant it. She could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. He wanted to know if she was hurt. She wasn’t supposed to suck it up and keep quiet, she was supposed to tell him. “We weren’t trained that way, Gino, especially me. I wasn’t allowed to whine, not for any reason. Once, I broke my arm and Whitney was angry with me for going to the infirmary. I was supposed to keep quiet and try to endure the pain for at least a day or two, not be such a wimp that I left the others during training.”