High Energy by Joy, Dara (ink book reader .TXT) 📗

frantic search.

She headed toward the rear of the house and the kitchen. Before she could get

there, the hall door swung open.

Tyber padded out of the kitchen in stockinged feet and jeans, a half-eaten

brownie in one hand, a stack of computer sheets in the other. He didn't notice

her right away because his attention was focused on the readouts in his hand.

He looked so completely normal, she had the absurd desire to cry.

When he realized that she was standing there, he stopped, staring at her in

controlled silence. His raking glance did a swift survey of her torn clothes,

her cut and swollen lip, the already purpling bruises.

"Where's Blooey?" she demanded in a quivering voice.

Tyber regarded her intently. "He's out in the far acreage planting spring bulbs.

What happened to you?" His voice was evenly modulated steel.

Her bottom lip began to tremble. Suddenly she covered her face with her hands

and sank to the floor, sobbing.

The computer papers and brownie fell unheeded to the floor. Instantly, Tyber was

beside her, kneeling down, gathering her in his arms. "What is it? What is it,

baby?" He rocked her in the security of his embrace.

"It-it was LaLeche." She sobbed.

Tyber went still. "What did he do?"

"He-he cornered me in my apartment. I don't know how he found me—he must have

been watching me." The very idea brought tremors. Tyber rubbed her back,

silently urging her to continue, dreading what he was about to hear.

"He said he wanted revenge… against both of us. He said he could—he could d-do

whatever he wanted to me and there was nothing I could do about it." She

clutched his soft flannel shirt in an iron grip. Above her bent head, Tyber

closed his eyes in pain for what she had suffered.

"Are you hurt, baby? Let me take you to a hospital."

"No! I want to stay here with you! I don't want to go anywhere!" She seemed

almost hysterical. Tyber tried to soothe her.

"I understand, sweetheart, but if he… hurt you, you need to go to the hospital."

"He didn't… get that far. I was so scared, Tyber. I told him we had a file on

him. He stopped. I don't know why. Before he left, he told me he would come for

me again. He—" She couldn't go on.

So LaLeche hadn't raped her as he had feared. Tyber sent a silent thank you

heavenward. Silly, he knew, but faith showed up at the oddest times.

No, LaLeche didn't rape her, but he had scared her witless. She would carry the

scars of this for the rest of her life. It would be a long time before her

spunky confidence came back. She had lost a lot of her bright-eyed innocence

today. And the bastard had physically hurt her, used violence against his baby….

Tyber wanted to kill him.

"What if he comes here, Tyber? He threatened Blooey and Hambone—said he would

poison the poor cat." Still clutching his shirt, her tear-streaked face

beseeched him. Tugged at him. When he looked at her, he wanted to cry himself.

The bastard had really done a number on her.

He would pay. But not now. Now he needed to take care of her, reassure her as

best he could.

"Don't be frightened, baby; you're safe here. I would never let anything happen

to you." To reinforce his words, he pressed kisses tenderly against her eyes,

her forehead, her cheeks. His tender ministrations opened up a flood of emotions

in her, and she sobbed in great wracking spasms; she broke his heart.

He scooped her up in his arms and carried her upstairs to their bedroom. Afraid

she would go into shock, he gently removed her clothes, placing her tenderly

under the heavy quilts.

Knowing that his own body heat was the best remedy, he quickly shed his own

clothes, getting under the covers and wrapping her to him.

"Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry." He rocked her in his arms. "You're safe. I

won't let him touch you, I swear. I love you too much to let anything happen to

you. Kiss me, Curls— that's right. Again. So sweet. You're so sweet."

"Hold m-me, Tyber."

"I'm holding you. See? I'm holding you right against me; there's nothing to be

afraid of."

"You won't let him—" She shivered against him.

"No. Never." He held her tightly to him.

She put her arms around his neck, drawing him down to her. "Make love to me,

Tyber, please. Erase his touch, his memory, his words. You won't let him hurt

me?"

"Shh." He kissed her gently on the mouth, cognizant of her emotional and

physical fragility.

Her lips clung to his in need, in passion, in reaffirmation of all that was good

and decent in her life. This was Tyber, her safe haven.

He came over her, covering her with himself. A human blanket of warmth and

security.

His lips played with her ear. Lulling. Calming.

"What did I say to you?" he whispered.

"You—you said you loved me."

Tyber did not want her to think of anything but his words to her. He wanted her

thoughts only on him; he wanted to eradicate the ugliness, the horror she had

experienced. He inserted his leg between hers, opening her to him. "Tell me

again, baby."

"You said you loved me—Tyber!" He entered her with one sure, even stroke.

"Yes, I love you," he breathed softly in her ear. Purposely, he moved in her,

gently at first, his stroking actions, designed to be soothing, slowly became

more powerful with each drive against her.

"Again," he insisted of her, wanting her to know him now, to feel him and never

forget that he was the one.

She moaned against his shoulder. "You said you loved me."

His tongue swirled around her lobe; his hands slid down under her derriere to

cup her hard against him. He rocked tight to her, locked deep inside.

His hand came up now to caress the side of her face, pressing it flush to his

own so her lips were against his ear, and his against hers. In this intimate

pose, he asked her the one and only thing he wanted to hear. His voice was a hot

vibration against the inner folds.

"Tell me," he demanded breathlessly.

"I love you."

"Yes," he groaned. It was a deep, heart-felt sound that came from somewhere

around his soul. He rubbed his cheek against hers. "Always. Always."

"I love you," she whimpered.