Only Witness, The (15 page)

              “Deke!” Her voice cut through the night air, over the grunts that were coming from the two men. “Stop it, stop it now!” Vera had no regard for her own safety as she bounded down the steps. It never even occurred to her that it wasn't a good idea to throw herself between two testosterone charged men in the middle of a slug fest.

              The two men pulled apart, both not even breathing heavily. “What are you doing outside, Vera?” Deacon wiped a hand over his forehead and Vera saw blood smear. And then Vera saw red. It was the emotions running through her. She liked Houdini, but in that moment she wanted to rip his throat out. She would have tried with her bare hands to do just that if Deacon hadn't grabbed her back.

              “Whoa. Easy, Tiger.”

              Houdini held up his hands. “We were just letting off some steam, Vera, he gave as good as he got.”

              “I'd say,” Susan walked over at a sedate pace. “Looks like you could use a doctor.”

              “So could Deke,” Vera shouted. She'd never felt such rage, never anticipated that she could feel anything even close to it, but the sight of Deacon's blood had snapped something inside of her. Tears sprang to her eyes.

              “I'm fine, Vera, just fine.” Deacon assured her but she didn't believe him. Instead she turned in his arms, her hands moved up and down his arms, over his chest to his stomach and back up. Relief surged through her and she was overcome by the need to be as close to him as possible. She pressed against him, inhaled his scent and then she was sobbing. All of the emotions inside of her had just faded away. It was such a relief she wouldn't have been able to stand had Deacon not been holding her.

              He didn't say a word, just held her against him and stroked his hand over her hair. Vera's fingers were going numb from how tightly she was gripping his shirt. “Come on tough guy,” Susan's voice broke the silence. “Let's get you inside and stop that bleeding.”

              “She should look at you first, Deke.” Vera went to go after Susan and Houdini but he grabbed her, held on to her tight. “She should look at you first!”

              “Vera,” he said forcefully. His grip tightened on her. “I said, I'm fine. What did Susan say about you?”

              Vera shifted back to face him, sighed. “She said I'm fine,” Vera replied and looked away from him.

              “There's something that you're not telling me. I can feel it.”

              “No, there's not. And what do you mean you can feel it?” She replied but wouldn't meet his eyes, instead she focused on his chest. His heartbeat was steady and calm. Hers was racing rapidly.

              “You know what I'm talking about, Vera. I think that you've been feeling it too. So, don't lie to me, please.”

              “Fine,” Vera spoke softly, chose her words carefully though there was no way to sugar coat it. “I wondered what happened after I was knocked out, if I was... assaulted.”

              “We know that you were assaulted. I found you...” he trailed off, his expression hardening. “You're talking about rape. You thought that you were raped.”

              “I didn't know and I needed to know. I was knocked out, anything could have happened.”

              “You weren't raped, Vera,” Deacon's replied. His expression was about as serious as Vera had ever seen it. She tried to look away but he brought his hands up to cup her face.  “You were fully dressed when I found you.”

              “That doesn't mean anything,” Vera spoke softly with her face pressed against his chest. “I was wearing a dress when I came home, my favorite dress. It... used a claw to pull the hem up. I heard it rip! I... Fuck!”

              Vera felt frustrated, confused. She didn't understand what was going on, why she'd been attacked or why she just felt so much better when Deacon touched her. His hands were on her now and she felt great, amazing even. Her head didn't hurt. It had been threatening to split only moments earlier as she rushed downstairs.

              How could touch do that?

              Vera sure didn't know but she was going to find out. She stepped back from him, held her hands up in front of her when he frowned. “Just give me a second,” the look on his face made her heart hurt. He thought that she was rejecting him. “Oh, there it is.” Her vision swam, she stumbled to the side.

              “Vera, what the fuck?” Deacon's hands were back on her, holding her up.

              “My head hurt, really bad like a migraine on steroids. I got a little dizzy. I'm not dizzy now and my head doesn't hurt. It's because you're touching me.” Vera knew exactly how insane the words sounded, though it was no more insane than her realization that she loved the man holding her.

              “What else are you feeling?”

              “Confused,” Vera replied. “And right now, a little bit cold. Do you think we could go inside?”

              “Shit, you've got to be freezing.” He smiled a little. “You look really great, though, I like you in my shirt.”

              “I like being in your shirt,” Vera pulled herself up on her toes, brought her mouth to his. The kiss, like all their others, took on a life of its own. She gave herself over fully to it, to him in the hopes that he would understand what she couldn't explain.

Chapter TWELVE

              Deacon was careful to always keep his hand on Vera as they made their way back into the house. He'd attempted to carry her but she'd said she could walk, that she should walk to get her body going again.

              Susan and Houdini were in the kitchen. She was stitching him up and from what Deacon could hear he was talking her ear off. He was sure she could take care of herself when it came to the notorious horn dog; he wasn't so sure that Houdini would be okay. He'd caught the way he looked at her when they first met.

              “Deke?” Vera spoke from next to him, her grip tight on his hand.

              “Yeah, Baby?” He tugged her hand gently so that she'd turn towards him. “What's wrong? Is it your head?”

              “No, it's fine. I just... forget it.”

              “Not a chance,” he told her even though he secretly dreaded the conversation that would emerge from whatever she had to say. “Tell me.”

              “Is there something I don't know?”

              It was a loaded question. There was a lot that she didn't know, things that he wasn't sure she was ready to hear. If he laid all of his cards out on the table right now, there was a chance that she would bolt. Who could blame her if she did? “What do you mean?” Deacon asked instead to buy some time to come up with an explanation.

              “With Susan and Houdini, is there something I don't know?”

              “I'm not sure, maybe.” Relief surged through him. “C'mon, let's get you upstairs. Find you some pants.”

              “I was thinking of warming up another way but if you'd rather find me pants...” she trailed off and shrugged her shoulders.

              “You think that you're up for that?” Deacon wasn't sure that she was. She looked tired despite the time that she'd been out.

              “Not sure, but there's only one way to find out. Unless...” she trailed off, shook her head. “It's fine if you don't want to. Pants sound good. Really good.”

              “You think I don't want you,” Deacon felt it, felt it through his entire being. “That's far from the truth.”

              “You're scared that you're going to hurt me,” she looked up at him. “How is it possible that I know that? I mean, it's not just that I think it's what you think. I know. How is that possible?”

              “Don't you believe that some people just have a connection that defies logic?”

              “Do you?”

              “Not until this,” Deacon admitted. He might have grown up hearing the stories but he'd never believed it could happen to him, not until now. Not until Vera.

              “So, what does it mean? Are we...”

              “Together? Is that what you want?”

              “Don't you know?”

              He did know, or at least Deacon was pretty sure that he did. It was written in the way that she was looking at him even if he couldn't feel it coming off of her in waves. All that he knew was there was nothing he wouldn't do for the woman in front of him, nothing at all.

              “Deke?” Now she looked nervous, confused and sad.

              “We're together, Vera. It's me and you from here on out.”

              “It's crazy,” she grinned up at him, “but that works for me.” Her hand gripped his tighter and tugged toward the stairs. “I'm not getting any warmer down here.”

              “I think I know the first step in warming you up,” Deacon leaned in and brushed his lips against her temple. “I think it's shower time.” He didn't want any trace of the bastard on her skin, anywhere. Suddenly, like a kick to the face, it dawned on him that there had been no scent in her apartment that shouldn't have been there. Not a single trace of whoever had attacked her.

              That was impossible. How had he not noticed it before? Her apartment hadn't had a trace of anyone out of the normal. He'd been so focused on her, stretched out like she was dead, that he'd never even realized there was nothing. How the fuck was that possible? Anger rose inside him again, strong and vicious. He heard Vera inhale sharply, focused on her and realized that she was feeling what he was. There was panic in her eyes, her grip on him was almost numbing and painful.

              Some of the anger was directed inward, after all there was no way in hell the attack on Vera had been random. Whoever had attacked her had to know that he'd react, they were likely counting on it. He just couldn't figure out why or who it could have been though the field was narrowed with The Old Man being outside, narrowed greatly because there was no one in the pack who would go after a woman, especially not a woman steeped in his scent. He could smell it on her now underneath the scent that was purely her. It had to have been one of The Grievers. Had Josiah left his wedding bed to go and torment Vera? He'd kill whoever it was.

              Killing a member of the pack to protect Vera could be the end of his life, at the very least it would mean banishment. Exiled from the pack and everyone else he knew for the rest of the days, but it would be worth it to keep her safe.             

              Deacon was pulled back to reality and the woman, his woman, when she pushed lightly at his chest. “C'mon,” he drew her close to him. They didn't say anything as they made their way upstairs and to the bathroom at the end of the hall.

              It took a moment for him to figure out how to get the shower on while still holding her hand. She didn't want to let go. He couldn't blame her, but he also knew on some level that she needed to let go and realize that she was always connected to him, she would always be, even if they weren't touching.

              “A little cold water would be good,” she eyed the steam rising from the spray of water.

              Deacon adjusted the taps. “How's your head?”

              “It's good.”

              “Do you trust me?” Deacon asked. She met his eyes, frowned but nodded. Her mouth dropped open when he released her hand. “Keep looking at me,” he kept his voice soft. He didn't want to spook her. She looked ready to collapse. “You're fine.”

              “It hurts,” she whispered the words, reached out for him. “Deke, please.”

              
              “We can't always touch, but we're always connected. Always. Like I said, do you trust me?”

              “Yes, I trust you.”

              “Good, now just relax. What do you feel?” He pushed all the happiness he could muster at her; simple emotions would transfer best, or at least he thought that they would. No one had ever really explained to him how it worked. When he'd asked his mother, she'd told him that when it happened he would just know.

              “I feel...” she still looked so confused. “Happy?”

              “You telling me or asking me?”

              “I'm telling you,” she replied with a smile. “And my head doesn't hurt as badly as it did before. I really do feel a little like I'm going crazy Deke.”

              “You're not.” Deacon assured her as he reached down to pull off his shirt. There was blood on it and blood on his hands. There was blood on Vera's hands and a tiny bit on her face. The sight of the blood against her skin made him remember just how fragile she was. He'd need to be careful with her, as careful as he could be. He'd denied himself the change tonight. The wolf wasn't pleased. If things went too far and it clawed to the surface it could be deadly. Control was going to be key.

              He toed off his boots, kicked them out of the way. Deacon's hands went for his belt but then Vera was in front of him. Without a word she stretched up to kiss him, teeth nipping down on his bottom lip as she undid the belt.

              Deacon reached down for the hem of his shirt—it looked way better on her than it did on him—and pulled it up slowly. She stepped back from him, raised her hands over her head so that he could remove it totally. He tossed it over his shoulder, not caring where it fell. Her skin was bare underneath; he'd helped Susan take care of her when they got her back to the house.

              Every inch of her skin was as perfect as it had been before the attack. She hadn't been scratched. Still, Deacon felt like he had to check again. They'd really gotten lucky, as strange as that sounded. His hands moved over her, she leaned in to his touch. He cupped her ass and she let out a soft moan. He could feel himself pressed against her, he was so hard that he doubted he'd last long inside of her.

              “Deke?” Vera flipped open the button of his jeans, tugged at the material. '             

              “Do you want to stop?”

              “If you stop, I will kill you.” She assured him with a smile. “But you could stop thinking, that would be great. I don't know what's going on but I know it's bothering you. Now, we can talk or we can actually get in the shower.”