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Authors: Elbie Sinclair

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BOOK: Bent (The Gifted Series)
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              Standing at the sink, she dumped the contents of the glass and grabbed her toothbrush, all the while trying to reason her reaction.  It had to be his proximity that unnerved her.  She’d been alone for too long and the only male interaction in her life was forced—her body complying without approval to someone else’s demands and desires. 

              While brushing, she glanced over her shoulder, and guilt struck a brutal blow.  How could she ignore the needs of this innocent man?  Mentally sighing, she knew the two needed a fresh start.  Obviously he was going to be here for a while, so she needed to be accommodating. 

              She caught his eye and the snarled expression that he offered insinuated that a fresh start wasn’t in the works, at least not for today. 

              Okay, so plan B: slow progression.  But first things first, mother nature demanded her attention.  Embarrassed that she had to pee within hearing distance of this stranger, she left the water in the sink running, then ducked behind the partition and used the loo.  She was never so thankful for the bottle of Lysol air freshener and other cleaning products that was provided to her—it’s not like Patrice or her thugs were going to clean the cage she called home.

              Stepping back out, she washed up and then filled the sink with warm water, all the while, her patient remained silent in the corner. She grabbed the bar of soap from the shower and a clean washcloth from the bin.  Then, she soaked the cloth and quietly crossed toward the man.

              His head sharply jerked in her direction.  “What are you doing?” he all but snarled. At least his trembling had stopped, hopefully the pain was receding.

              She spoke softly, “You’ve all but sopped yer pillow.  A sponge bath would do ya good.” She cautiously reached out to wipe his face. 

              His arm thrust out and gripped her wrist. She halted as he squeezed. “Part of your nursemaid bit?” he mocked low.

              She nodded. “Aye, I suppose.  I’ve not an inkling what to do, so you’ll have to bear with me.”  He continued the hold on her wrist as their gazes locked.  She attempted a diversion. “Is the pain more tolerable?”

              After a couple of seconds he gave a slight nod and released her wrist.  Cautiously she asked, “May I proceed?  Yer a bit … mangy.”

              “That’s what happens when no one lets you bathe for a —” He halted with confusion, so she provided the answer. “It’s been five days.”

              His piercing blue eyes shot to hers; he gave her another slight nod.  With that she went about washing his face.  It was terribly awkward, but Joss attempted to pretend that it was Aunt Bea.  Joss had spent the last couple of years, prior to her capture, taking care of her elderly aunt, so assisting with bath time was nothing new but caring for a tall, admittedly sexy male brought various kinds of sensations, and some were in regions of her body she didn’t want to acknowledge.  

              He was gorgeous—muscular, tanned, and …
ugh
, not a thing like Bea’s prune-like body. 

             
You’re a pasty blonde Olive Oil
, she reminded herself as she went back to the sink and rinsed the washcloth.  This helped, the knowledge that he found her repulsive.  It also caused an inward grimace because every lass just loved to hear how unattractive she was to a stunning bloke. It was irrational that the thought stung as much as it did.

              Sighing, she turned back and continued her task.  She began to clean his neck and shoulders.

              “Would you kindly answer my question?” he gritted out.

              Joss frowned. “What question?” She turned to rinse again.

              His voice rose. “Why can’t you leave this room?”

              “Ahh,” she nodded, remembering the previous evening.  As she strolled toward him with her freshly rinsed cloth, her arms lifted and wafted about the space. “This is home.  As you said last night, I do Patrice’s bidding. Unwillingly, however.”

              He gave her a skeptical once over. “You speak as though you’re bent.”

              A humorless smile crossed. “Ding, ding, we have a winner! And you’ll receive the grand prize of becoming bent yerself.” She grabbed his forearm, and began to wipe it down, being mindful of the bandages.  She noted that her previous apprehension regarding giving a sexy stranger a scrub down was fading. 
Olive Oil
, she chimed in her head.  And at least playing nursemaid broke up the monotony of her usual routine.  Normally, she’d be on push-up number 75 right about now.

              He cursed loudly.  This was another thing she’d noticed, the man’s steady use of profanity.  She often swam in the sailor’s seas herself, but this lad set a new precedence.

              “Is that why they saved me?” he asked.

              “I suspect, but with Patrice, who knows. What are you anyway?  A reader or shield?”  As she awaited his response, she trekked back to the sink, only to halt halfway and turn back.  She grabbed the end of the gurney, and as she did so, she saw the man give her a curious glance.  Dragging the gurney closer to the sink, she muttered, “This may not be a large cell but I’m gettin’ a might dizzy from walking in circles.”

              His lip twitched, maybe amused.

              As she filled the sink with clean water and soaped up the cloth, he replied, “I’m a reader and hypnotic, and I already know you’re a shield … amongst other things.” His innuendo spoke volumes.

              She sighed, ringing out the washcloth, then steeled herself for his reaction as she looked straight into his eyes. “Yes, I’m telekinetic.” She wondered if Declan had ever told anyone within the agency about her ability—he swore not to.  In fact, he swore never to speak of her, and the man before her seemed genuinely shocked.

              “How’d they find you?”  He then winced, placing his hand over his stomach.

              “Are you all right?”

              “It’s the meds. I think I need to eat. My gut’s doing zero to sixty.”

              “Shite!” How could she not feed the poor man?  Obviously nursing was a career path she needed to avoid.  She glanced toward the thermos but figured the soup was probably cold by now.  She then went to her bed and lifted the corner mattress, then grabbed the granola bar that lay underneath.  “Here.”

              “Won’t they feed us?”

              “Aye, but at their leisure.  It could be a while.  Here.” She opened the package and handed it to him.

             

    *     *     *     *

 

              Carter hesitated to take the granola bar.  Clearly she’d secretly stashed it.  He then scrutinized her physical appearance.  Although she appeared toned and strong, she was a waif.  He now suspected why.  They provided her with enough food to sustain herself, but no more. 

              Food was a powerful bargaining tool for a person left in a constant state of hunger.

              “I can’t,” he started, but she cut him off.  “Please, you must.” Her bright green eyes locked with his.  Her expression pleaded. She tore off a small chunk and brought it to his lips as another soft “please” left hers.  She looked utterly pained at the notion that he might refuse.

             
Ah hell
.  Carter could damn well feed himself and probably bathe himself too, but he couldn’t seem to resist opening his mouth and welcoming the bite that she offered, if only to appease her pleading eyes. 

              He was mindful not to touch her fingers with his tongue or lips, even though a foreign part of him wanted to draw her delicate finger in and give it a nip and suck.  Maybe she’d gasp with expectancy, or maybe she’d slap him across the face.  Either outcome tempted him greatly.  

              As he began to chew, she smiled, and it was a … transformation, as though her face bloomed before him.  Her eyes lit—the green twinkling, and he spotted a faint dimple just below the left side of her lip. 

              He was taken back by the scrawny woman standing before him—her hair in disarray and not an ounce of makeup upon her gaunt face, yet there was no denying that her unique features created an other-worldly Lord of the Rings elfish beauty. 

              Once again, she attempted to hand him the bar, but this time he took it.  “Thank you,” he said humbly, and a slight blush hinted her cheeks. 
Crap
, he thought, glancing away. The blush totally added to the allure that he adamantly was
not
feeling.

              “Let me finish up,” she mumbled, turning away herself.  “I’m sure they’ll bring something soon.  Samuel mentioned that one of Patrice’s doctors would be checking on you, and if they know you need to eat with the meds—”

              “One of her doctors?” he cut in, “How many does she have?”

              “A few.”

              Carter put two and two together, realizing that Patrice’s bent assassins probably suffered injuries often.  He then wondered how badly the woman before him had suffered.  “Have you had to see the doctors before?”

              She shrugged, wiping down his uninjured arm and making him squirm as the cloth swiped his armpit.

              “Sorry,” she quickly whispered.

              Embarrassment nailed him.  Damn, part of him felt like a heel for allowing her to continue with the sponge bath.  Now that his pain med had kicked in, he could make do on his own, but her light stroking and soft caresses felt unbelievably good, and he wasn’t embarrassed to admit how much he liked being pampered.  He was down with spa days regardless of the heckling he endured from T and Smits. The two chumps didn’t know what they were missing. 

              His eyes quickly perused her slight frame.  “Well,” he persisted, desperate to know if she’d suffered.

              “A few times.  For nothing … horrendous.”

              “What do you
not
consider horrendous?”

              She glanced up at him, halting the bath. “The usual things one might expect: contusions, fractured ribs, a … gun shot.”

              “What?” This burst out of him, causing him to wince and giving her a start.

              She gave him a curious glance before reluctantly replying, “It was nothing to the likes of what you’re enduring, but I took a graze to me arm.” She showed him a faint scar along the creamy skin of her inner left arm.  Then to his shocking dismay, she turned to her side and jerked one side of her yoga pants down.  Completely unabashed, she gave Carter an impressive view of a toned ass cheek as she spoke, “And one to me arse about six months ago.” 

              Carter battled Mr. Dick, who wanted to rise and salute this woman’s perfect
arse
.  Not to mention the knowledge that the chic was commando under the thin cotton. 
Annnd
don’t think that the fact that she was braless under the tight white tank hadn’t gone unnoticed.  She might be a prisoner with no clothing options but he was a heterosexual male.  If there were darkened nipples to gawk at, he would shamelessly ogle. 

              Her finger lightly trailed a discolored scar across her butt cheek. “Nothing but a faint remembrance, see? But you know as well as I that gifted have a knack for healing nicely—faster than the average bloke, too,” she added with a shrug. Modesty didn’t appear to be a consideration.

             
Chic’s got grit
, Carter thought, and that was something he could appreciate.  He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah.  One perk of being gifted.”

              Jerking up her pants, she faced him and placed both hands on her slender hips.  Her fingers curled around her slightly protruding hip bones. 

              Eyeing this, Carter chewed the final bite of the granola bar and regretted that he’d eaten the entire thing.  He should have only agreed if she’d eaten half.  She was too thin. Sure, she still carried a total sex-kitten vibe but could easily pack on five to ten pounds.

              “So,” she sighed. “All that’s left of ya is yer southern regions.  How should we go about it?”

              Carter grabbed the sheet and exposed one leg, allowing the sheet to bunch around Mr. Dick.  Although he could have easily cleaned his upper half, the constrictive bandaging prevented him from reaching the lower.

              Starting on his upper thigh, she turned to him with a wicked smirk backed by a low snicker.  “Look, I know I’m not of yer liking, but no pulling a piss on the nursemaid.  Understood?”

              He chuckled back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I promise you my best behavior, and uh … I’d never piss on anyone.”

              Unabashed laughter burst from her chest and Carter felt a stir from the D-man below.  Her voice had a raspy sing-song sound that admittedly lured him, but her laughter was deeper.  It screamed sexpot—such a contrast to her nymph-like appearance.  His off switch was flipping on and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it except deny, deny, deny.  “I suck at denial,” he mumbled.

              “What was that?” she asked.

              He shook his head. “Nothing.”  What a mess of a situation.  There was no way he could allow this attraction.  He needed to keep his head on straight and figure out an escape plan, not become bewitched by an imprisoned nymph with kick-ass gifted abilities and an admittedly kick-ass ass.  Maybe in another time or place ...

              “Fair enough.” She nodded, pulling him back. “Oh, by the way,” she began, “my name’s Joss. And pulling a piss is like,”—she considered it for a moment— “ya know, pulling a fast one.”

             
Joss
. He liked it and wondered if it was short for something but didn’t want to pry.  He extended a hand. “Carter.  The name’s Carter.”

              She continued wiping down the length of his leg, but when she reached his foot, she solemnly turned.  Serious eyes met his gaze.  “I’m sorry for what I’ve done to ya—truly am.”

              His good arm swung about her small confines. “You didn’t choose this, did you?”

BOOK: Bent (The Gifted Series)
9.08Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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