Prescription For Love (The Kingsley Series) (16 page)

"Here goes," he whispered, taking a deep breath. In his most calm and quiet voice, the one he used for crumbling patients, Mac gently took Cameron's elbow in his hand, turning her, murmuring quietly. She moved numbly, not appearing to notice Mac at all, which terrified him.
What if I hadn't been with her? What the hell is going on?
he thought.

Leading Cameron to a group of trees surrounding a small concrete seating area, Mac pressed her shoulders and urged her to sit. Her breathing was quick and uneven; her heart racing so fast that he could see the pulse vibrating in the base of her throat. She'd held her stomach the entire time they'd walked, one hand floating frequently to the space beneath her left breast, the fingertips brushing at some invisible irritant.

Mac caught her hand, holding on as she squeezed her eyes closed, still moaning her desperate pleas. Tears leaked from her lashes, running slowly down her cheeks to drip from the tip of her chin. Helplessly, Mac knelt beside her and waited for the panic to subside.

Oh god, he's here,
Cameron thought.
He's here, he's out and he’s going to come after me, he's going to ruin everything. I can't see him; I can't look at him and see the victory in his face again. Oh God, no, please no.
Her hand floated again to the tattoo under her breast as the memories played back in her head.

"Good morning, love," Kevin whispered, leaning over her as her eyes fluttered open. "We had such fun last night, my love, my sexy vixen."

Disgusted, Cameron tried to turn her head away, but she couldn't move. Panic flooded her as she realized she couldn't move her arms either. Her legs wouldn't lift; her toes wouldn't curl. Her chest tightened, the natural panic response hindered as her breath refused to quicken. She tried to speak, but could only gasp or moan helplessly.

He chuckled softly, laughing at her fear. "Rest, love. You moved plenty for me last night while I played with you. You thought you could wear that teasing dress and just walk away from me unscathed. I have to give you credit though, even with the drugs I slipped you, you fought like a champ."

Cameron fought her body, commanded her heavy limbs to lift, rolled her eyes around desperately to see whatever was in her line of sight. She tried to remember the night before, but everything was blank. All she could remember was dressing for the frat party and drinking with Kevin. Everything beyond the first few drinks was ... blank.

"But you see, my dear," Kevin said, his fingers stroking her cheek, running down her throat to tweak her nipple - oh God she was naked! "You don't deny me. You don't get to tell me no, because I get what I want, no matter what. And a pre-med? I know so many ways to make someone, shall we say, compliant. And now, look at you. My very own plaything. All my own."

Viciously, he twisted her nipple again, and Cameron moaned helplessly, wanting to scream but unable to force her body to obey the frantic screaming in her mind. "Did you know, Cameron," he continued, "that a mild dose of nearly any paralytic can render you completely helpless? It doesn't take much, my love, but I did have quite a bit of homework to do in order to get my hands on the proper drugs. And now, look. My own. All for me. Can you still feel me though? Was the dose low enough to leave you able to feel the sensation of my touch?"

Cameron blinked, mewling frantically. Tears ran freely down the side of her face, pooling in her ear, wetting the hair beneath her head. His fingers were everywhere, his hands passing over her. She didn't realize they weren't alone until he nodded to someone she couldn't see, and a woman's voice said, "Okay, I’m ready."

A sudden buzzing sound filled the room, vibration touching her stomach, slightly below the curve of her left breast. It stung slightly but wasn't entirely painful. Cameron lay quietly waiting, the tears flowing endlessly, cooling in her hair.

Finally, Kevin leaned over her again, smiling. He held a syringe in front of her, allowing her to see, causing her panicked moans to begin anew. "No worries now, my love, my own, we're all finished playing. Almost."

There was a stinging pinch in her arm, and her eyes floated closed again.

"Cameron!" Mac was nearly shouting, his voice tense, his hands gently shaking hers. She jerked, blinking, and when she looked at him, he was relieved to see that she was finally present inside herself, finally seeing him again.

Cameron was horrified to come out of the flashback and see Mac staring intently into her face. "Mac? Oh God, no." She dropped her face into her hands, her shoulders trembling as tears dripped from between her fingers. He slid closer to her, cautiously laying his arm over her shoulders.

"Cameron, please. Please tell me what's going on," he whispered. "Please, I'm worried about you. Where'd you go back there?"

Cameron sighed, holding herself away from him until she just couldn't hold back anymore. "I don't know, Mac," she said quietly. "I don't know if I can tell you."

"Please Cameron, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. Tell me what's going on; let me be here for you. Let me in, Cameron." He slid from the bench, kneeling in front of her to take her hands. "Let me in," he repeated.

She looked away, watching the crowd through the trees. She didn't even know how she'd gotten there; the last thing she remembered was walking with Mac, and then seeing someone who'd looked like Kevin, only realizing that it wasn't him after it was too late. Too late to stop the flashback from taking over.

"Will you tell me what happened to you?" Mac asked gently.

"I can't tell you all of it," Cameron began.

"That's okay," he whispered. "Please, just tell me something. Please, give me a hint to what's going on."

"I can't tell you all of it," she repeated, "because I don't remember all of it. In college, I --" she paused, watching his eyes close, his lips tensing as she spoke. She waited, waited until those icy blue eyes opened and focused again on her face.

"Go on," he whispered raggedly.

"I was at a party. I was drinking, young, stupid. I was drugged --"

"You were date-raped?" His hands tensed over hers as he broke in, his shoulders bunching with the effort to remain still.

"I was. But I don't remember any of it; the drug took me over pretty fast. I guess they do that. But the guy had a friend with a grudge, an ex of mine. From what I heard, I was, sort of, given to Kevin," she whispered. "Payment for a favor or something." Shame filled her, remembering the long process of drawing the story out of various people who'd been at the party that night. She’d been so humiliated in court, listening as people told their stories about her, filling in the things that she couldn't remember on her own.

"Oh God, Cam," Mac whispered, his eyes taking her in, his hands leaving hers to cup her face. She took his hands in hers, lowering them from her face and holding them together in her lap.

"That's not really it," she said.

"You can't mean there's more," he breathed.

"He was pre-med; he had a couple of doctors in his family, friends who worked for chemists, things like that. One of the frat brothers worked for a pharmacist. I don't know what he used, but I woke up sometime during the time he had me. And I was paralyzed. Helpless." Her breath caught in her throat, her heart swelling to fill her until she thought she'd throw up. Swallowing, she waited for his response.

Mac froze, motionless. He knew he should say something, anything, preferably something reassuring, but all he could think of was the murderous rage filling him.
No wonder she held herself back!
he thought.

"Oh God, Cameron," was all he could manage. He ached to reach out for her, to take her in his lap, wrap her in his arms. He wanted to protect her, to go after the idiot who had abused her innocence. And he was as helpless now as she had been that night, unable to do anything more than listen. "Is there more?" he croaked.

She nodded, terror filling her eyes. She took a breath, visibly forcing herself to relax, gathering her personal strength around herself. Raising her shoulders, she dropped his hands and lifted her own to gather the hem of her silken floral top. She closed her eyes, took another breath, and slowly raised the hem.

Mac watched as Cameron lifted the hem of her top, the slight glimpse of her flat stomach giving way to a wider and wider strip of smooth bare flesh. She raised the hem to just below her breasts, tucking it beneath the fullness of her chest as she held her torso exposed, baring the smooth expanse of her stomach to his gaze.

Reaching out, he brushed his fingertips over the curved script of the tattoo, jerking back when she flinched away from his touch. "Oh God, Cameron. It's like he branded you!" His voice trembled with rage, with sorrow, with his need to gather her up and protect her.

"My own," she said, her eyes still tightly closed. "I know. And it's forever."

"It doesn't have to be," Mac whispered, watching carefully as her eyes flew open. "Even the oldest wounds can be healed, Cameron." He inched his hands forward, taking hers, which were still frozen just below her breasts. He gently worked her fingers away from the fabric of her top, allowing it to fall again and cover her. She closed her eyes again, mistaking the gesture, and gathered her hands in her lap.

"I don't know how anyone could be expected to handle this. I'm still so broken. I'm messed up, scarred." She looked away, focusing again on the crowd through the trees.

Mac reached out, startling her, taking her chin in his hands. He brought her face back to his, pressing his forehead to hers. "I can be expected to handle it," he whispered, his hands digging into her hair to cup her scalp, holding her gently when she would have protested and turned away.

"Don't cut me short, Cameron; give this a chance."

"Mac, what if I'm never ready, to, um --"

"Cameron, I don't know if I've confessed this before," he said, "but I've had lots of sex already." She rolled her eyes, her mouth curving into a slight grin as he took a breath, waiting until she focused on him again. And then he lied. "And I don't care if you're never ready," he said, desperately hoping she would someday trust him enough to give herself to him. "Just don't back away from this now, okay? Don't tell me all this, just to push me away."

"How can you want me?" she asked, her eyebrows coming together, confusion lacing her voice.

"I'll tell you what," he said. "Agree to another date with me, and I'll try to explain it to you then."

She smiled weakly, tired and embarrassed that he'd seen her fall apart. "Today makes ten years," she said. "It's been ten years."

"And I'll be around to coach you when it's been eleven, if you don't back away. You don't have to be alone Cameron, let me in. Let me be here for you."

Hope bloomed in Cameron's heart, the hope that someone could be true and honest and real, the hope that she could finally lean on someone, the hope that she could finally heal, in time.

Taking a shaky breath, she swallowed, nodded, and watched his eyes light before his lips were on hers.

***

"What do you think of this one, ladies?" the bridal consultant asked, holding up a pristine gown to be inspected. The bodice was white satin, wrapping elegantly around itself in a bandage wrapped style. With one wide shoulder strap, the sweetheart neckline was protected from slipping too low, and the dress was fitted down the torso and hip to show off Cass's curvy body. Beneath the curved bust of the gown, a cluster of sapphire colored tulle flowers traced the high waist, and just below the curve of her hips, the dress fluffed out in multiple layers of organza to provide a beautifully flattering A-line shape. Mixed between the layers of white fluffy organza were glimpses of the same sapphire blue used on the bodice, creating a white-to-blue ombre effect.

It was the seventh dress they'd looked at, and when Cameron turned to look at Cass, there were tears in the girl's eyes. "Oh, Cass!" Cameron exclaimed, walking over to wrap her arms around her soon-to-be sister-in-law. "Don't cry, you'll leak mascara on it!"

"I know," Cass whispered, blinking rapidly. "But it's the one; I feel it." She was currently standing in a similar dress, one that lacked the safety of that single shoulder strap. Without it, she'd been too afraid to relax; afraid the heavy gown would slip out of place. The bell shape of the gown’s skirt had been too big and made Cass feel larger than she was; she'd been wishing for the courage to try something more form fitting. More like the gown being presented to her now, that fit snugly enough to accent her curves, fluffing out at the bottom to disguise the dramatic curve of her hips and thighs.