Bound by Thorns (The Dragon Soul Series) Page 2

  Greyson looked back, silent as a stone, but Luke had been still a hell of a lot longer. He knew Greyson would break eventually. Maybe not before supper, but Luke had all the time in the world.

  He had to admit, he wanted to know the story.

  It took almost twenty minutes of steady waiting before Greyson sighed. “Why are you here, man?”

  “Because if I wasn’t, you’d be passed out on this couch on your way to freezing to death. I mean that literally, too.”

  “I had a blanket.” There was a wealth of sadness in that voice.

  “Right. A blanket.” He rolled his eyes. Like that was going to do the job. Especially if it wasn’t being used. “So what do you do all day out here? Besides drinking yourself into a stupor, of course.”

  “I stopped doing that a week ago.”

  “Why?”

  “I ran out of booze.”

  Luke bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from bursting out laughing. That wouldn’t help anything. “So you’re here, staring at the walls? How is that better than where you were?”

  “It’s quiet. No horns, no screaming, no slamming doors.”

  Now that, Luke understood, deep down in his bones. “Amen to that.”

  Greyson almost smiled at him. “You get it.”

  “Needing to get away from”—people—”all that noise, I totally understand. This is a good, quiet place, I’ll give you that. I’d be happier if you were more prepared than you are. A lot more prepared.” Because if Greyson had the supplies he needed, Luke could happily ignore his presence—maybe check in once every few weeks, to make sure, but otherwise ignore the man entirely.

  Greyson sighed again. “Sorry. I did my best. It was all very quick.”

  “How come?”

  “I lost my shit. I needed to get away.”

  Lost his shit? “Like a breakdown? Or did you attack someone?”

  “None of your damn business.”

  Luke wasn’t sure about that. “Well, I think you need a lot more than just to get away.” He thought Greyson needed a hell of a lot more, and Luke, for all his preference for solitude, was a pretty good judge of people. This guy needed a keeper. Someone to feed him. Probably someone to help with physio therapy for that poor leg—make sure he actually did it and didn’t cause himself further injury.

  “Getting away was the option I took.” Greyson sipped his coffee and closed his eyes.

  Luke watched. The best outcome here would be the lasagna bringing Greyson to his senses. Then he could drive the man back to civilization and go back to his own life of solitude.

  He cleared his throat, and put his feet down, got up and went over to the oven, checking the lasagna. Yeah, it still had another forty minutes or so, he thought. Like he knew.

  Greyson watched him intently. It made him itchy.

  “I’m going to go get you some firewood.” Before he let the growls out and was grouchier to Greyson than he needed to be. He slipped his parka back on and pulled his hat down over his head.

  “I said I could do it!” Greyson stood up and stumbled toward the crutches.

  “Hey!” He caught Greyson. The muscles beneath his fingers felt surprisingly firm, strong. “Take it easy!”

  He could feel Greyson’s heart beating under his hand, fast as a bird’s.

  He carried Greyson over to the couch and set him down. “Why don’t you sit and nap for a half hour or so. I’ll bring in the wood and the lasagna should be ready at that point.”

  Greyson’s mouth opened. “Bu—”

  “I said it’s time for you to nap,” he growled out. Luke used a rush of energy, sending Greyson to sleep. Boom.

  Oh fuck. That shouldn’t have worked. Not that well, or that quickly. Not with a stranger. He hoped he hadn’t harmed the guy.

  Luke put his fingers on Greyson’s neck, nodding when he felt a pulse. Then he got up and headed out into the cold. No thinking, no worrying. He was going to carry wood. Period.

  Chapter Two

  The desert was cold. Bitterly cold, and Greyson hid, hunkered down, terrified to move. There was a mine. He knew it. He knew it, but he didn’t know which direction he should step.

  Oh God. Where? Where should he go?

  “Come to me.” The words were spoken by someone with a low, deep voice.

  Greyson couldn’t let anyone else get hurt. “There’s a bomb. Stay back. Stay back, soldier. There’s a bomb.”

  “No, Greyson, I said come here.” The speaker stepped toward him, tall and strong, handsome and whole.

  “Oh God. Please. Please, you’ll get hurt.” He was going to have to move, to save the guy.

  Somebody shook him. “Stop it. Come on now. Stop.”

  He stepped forward and his eyes opened, seconds before the bomb blew.

  The guy was right there, bent over him, eyes dark green and deep enough to fall into. “You with me, Greyson?”

  “Uh-huh. Hey. I must have dozed off.” He was so cozy and comfy, a blanket not just over him but tucked in around him. A fire blazed in the hearth, and the man—Luke—sitting against him seemed even warmer.

  “You were dreaming. Having a nightmare, I think.”

  “Sorry.” Those happened. A lot.

  “It’s not surprising, given what you’ve been through.” Luke paused a moment, staring at him, as if waiting for him to expand on either the nightmare or what had happened.

  Greyson stared back; he wasn’t discussing his issues with a complete stranger.

  “I hope you’re hungry. The lasagna is ready.”

  “It smells good. Thank you.” Now tell me why you’re really here.

  Luke stood, and he was big, sexy. Stunning, really. Even if Greyson wasn’t interested in that kind of thing right now. Maybe ever again. Still, when Luke bent over to take the lasagna out of the oven...

  Okay, he was a perv. Seriously. Like a high-dollar perv. He didn’t let himself think like that.

  Luke pulled the pan out of the oven and looked through the cupboards until he found the plates. He took two down along with two glasses, then did the same search through the drawers until he found the one containing the utensils.

  Greyson hadn’t done more than a cursory search himself. Hell, he’d been willing to rent the cabin indefinitely sight unseen. He had wanted somewhere to sleep, a roof, a bathroom. That was all.

  Luke put everything on the rickety little table near the kitchen area.

  “Come and eat, Greyson.” The words did not sound like a suggestion.

  “Okay.” He stood and made his way from the couch to the table, taking careful steps.

  “You’re not doing too badly without the crutches. What’s the prognosis?” Luke asked as he sat down, watching Greyson make his way to his own chair.

  The prognosis was none of Luke’s business. “I left the hospital. I’m fine.”

  Luke snorted. “I did mean, full recovery, this is as good as it’s going to get, something in between...”

  Fuck, this guy was pushy. “I lost a bunch of muscles. I have some nerve damage. Normal shit.”

  “Stepping on landmines isn’t normal shit. You got physio you’re supposed to be doing?” Luke didn’t wait for an answer before shoving a forkful of lasagna into his mouth and making a happy food noise.

  That meant Greyson didn’t have to answer and that worked for him.

  “You know, when you don’t answer, I assume it’s because you do have them, but aren’t doing them,” Luke noted between bites.

  “I’ve had enough of doctors and shit. Enough of hospitals.”

  Luke raised an eyebrow. “So, you’d rather not get better than have to deal with it?”

  “Yup.” Like that was unusual. The army hospital was filled with men like him.

&n
bsp; “Well, maybe you came to the one place that can help you as well as any hospital,” Luke muttered.

  “That’s what I’m hoping.” That was what he needed, more than anything.

  Luke cut into the lasagna and dished himself up another large piece, the cheese gooey and stretching at one point from the serving dish to the piece on Luke’s plate. “These woods are special.”

  “They’re quiet for sure.” And he was happy here. Well, as happy as he was going to get, anyway.

  “They were.” Luke looked at him. “They didn’t used to be crowded, either.”

  “Fuck you.” He stood, heading for his crutches. He’d go take a walk and wait for the motherfucker to leave.

  “Oversensitive much?” Luke asked. “It was mostly a joke.”

  The bastard had no idea. He slipped his crutches under his arms and headed for the door.

  “Stop. You’re not going out there without a coat on. Not to mention boots and mitts, a hat, a scarf.”

  Greyson didn’t take orders, not anymore.

  All of a sudden Luke’s hand wrapped around his arm. “I’m not letting you go out to freeze to death.”

  “Just going to leave you to your quiet.” Asshole.

  “Don’t be an idiot.”

  Being an idiot was his fucking job. “I rented this place on the up and up.”

  “I’m not saying you didn’t. Look, I’m not used to sharing the woods, I’ll give you that. And I’m a grumpy ass, I know that. But regardless, you need to dress for the weather or you will die.” Luke slowly turned him. “And the cold will make you ache. Not in the fun way, either.”

  Luke led him to the couch, and put the blanket around his shoulders again, then the plate of food was pushed into his hands.

  “Eat.”

  Just like that. “Eat.” Like he was going to do what this grouchy asshole told him to do.

  Still, it smelled good and he was hungry, so what would it hurt? He dug in, a little more eagerly than he’d meant to, but damn, now that he’d had a couple of bites on top of being sober and having spent the last hour smelling the dish, he realized he was starving.

  Luke didn’t have to look so pleased as he ate. He was going to bite the son of a bitch.

  Luke had yet another piece while Greyson ate his first. “I have a large appetite,” Luke told him.

  “I don’t. Have what you want.”

  “I have plenty at home, so I’m leaving the other half for you. It even tastes decent cold if you don’t feel like heating it up.”

  “You don’t have to do that, but it’s nice of you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Luke drank down the glass of milk he’d poured and sat back in his chair. “So, what are your plans for the next few days?”

  “Plans?” He didn’t have any plans for the rest of time. Not that it was any of this asshole’s business.

  “You said you were out of booze, and there’s precious little in the cupboard. You need books or anything to read? I’ll bring supplies in tomorrow.”

  “You didn’t adopt me, man.” Go away.

  “You’re in my forest. I am not leaving you to freeze or starve to death.” There was a firmness in Luke’s voice, and a strength in his eyes. There wasn’t any meanness there, though, Greyson could see that.

  “You’re a good guy. Bossy and gruff, but a good guy.”

  Luke nodded. “I try.”

  He could see that. That’s what forest rangers were, right? Good guys?

  “You play chess or anything like that?” Luke asked as he grabbed the dishes and took them to the sink.

  “Sure.” He’d been in the army. He’d played all sorts of board games, card games.

  “I’ll bring some of those with me, too.” Luke started scrubbing the dishes. “You got a sat phone?”

  “No.” He was totally off the grid. No family, no friends, no contacts left.

  “I’ll bring a walkie, then. And before you bitch at me, you need a way to get in touch with me in an emergency. No arguments. You may never need to use it, but I’m going to insist you take it.”

  “Okay. Okay, I hear you.”

  Luke grinned suddenly. “You’re pretty eager for me to get the hell out of here, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not very good company, man. I’m tired.”

  “Then I’ll stoke the fire for you and head off. I’ll be back tomorrow, though, so get a good night’s sleep.” Luke stood, seeming taller than ever. Imposing.

  “I’ll try. You don’t have to put yourself out. I’m not here to be a problem. I’m here to get away.” To be alone. This guy needed to get with his program.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Luke told him firmly.

  “Good night, then.” He was tired, worn out, and incapable of coping with anything else.

  “Sleep well.” Without any fanfare, Luke put on all his gear and headed out, closing the door firmly behind him.

  Greyson blinked, shook his head, then headed over to the door to lock it. Maybe he had lost his mind. Maybe Ranger Luke was bored and lonely.

  Maybe this was in Ranger Boy’s job description—harass broken soldiers.

  Whatever.

  He was going back to sleep.

  Chapter Three

  Luke woke up with a start. He groaned, hands going automatically to the hard-on jutting from his middle. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken with his body stirring this hard.

  He had urges, of course—that was only natural. But it always seemed almost clinical: he got hard, he dealt with it—usually in the shower in the morning—and he was done. This didn’t feel clinical in the least. He needed. He wanted a welcoming body to sink into, a soft mouth to surround his cock. He wanted things a man in the middle of nowhere had no business wanting.

  He took himself in hand, working with what was his normal quick efficiency. Usually that was enough and he’d come fairly quickly. It took forever this morning, and by the time he was done, his hand was tired and his breath panted from him as if he’d been running. And he was feeling less than satisfied.

  He hauled himself out of bed with a sigh. It was time to get his day started.

  He had breakfast, checked in with the main office, then began packing up the trailer. He put in several two-fours of water, milk, frozen bread ready to be baked, bags of frozen vegetables, meat, and a few boxed cakes and instant puddings. He figured that had to be enough food for Greyson for close to a month. Hells, probably more. Not everyone ate like he did.

  He added some board games and a half-dozen spy books along with an extra pair of mitts, a scarf, and two hats. He threw a tarp over the whole thing and tied it down.

  Then he headed back to Greyson’s.

  The cabin was dark, the chimney only letting out the barest wisp of smoke. Which meant it hadn’t been stoked or fed since he’d left. Greyson had a death wish. Man wasn’t careful, he’d find himself at the ranger station.

  Luke got off the snowmobile and went over to bang on the door. “Greyson, open up! I know you’re home!”

  If the man didn’t answer, he was going to break the damn door down. He pounded on it again. “Don’t make me come for you.”

  “Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.” He heard a crash, a thud, then a “Fuck!”

  Ah shit. The crutches. He sighed and tried the door, but it was locked and now that he knew Greyson was up, he wasn’t going to force the door without giving Greyson a fair amount of time.

  “I’m coming. I’m coming. I’m on the floor.”

  Shit. “I’m coming in. You need the help.” He tried the handle again, twisting it off, which gave him a way to get in.

  Greyson was on the floor, tangled in the sheets, scarred leg exposed. The man was sweating, trembling, and in need of—him—help.

/>   He went over and lifted Greyson up, holding him close. He settled Greyson back on the couch and stayed there with him, waiting to make sure Greyson knew who he was and had his bearings.

  “I’m sorry, man. I went down hard. I was dreaming.”

  “You mean having a nightmare.” Dreams didn’t leave you gasping on the floor, even if they were interrupted by banging on the door. He took off his gloves and rubbed Greyson’s arm.

  “Yeah. Hey. Thank you.”

  Luke nodded and looked around, his mouth tight. His instinct was to toss Greyson over his shoulder and take the man home where Luke could take care of him properly.

  The cabin wasn’t bad, but it was going to need constant work to keep the cold out, to keep the septic from freezing, to bring propane and water in. Gas for the generator.

  He wasn’t convinced Greyson was up to any of those. Hells, he wasn’t convinced Greyson wasn’t going to starve to death even with all the food Luke had just brought.

  He looked Greyson in the eyes. “Why don’t you pack up your stuff and I’ll take you to the ranger station. The guest room is bigger than the cabin and you’d actually have a bed to sleep on.”

  “I can’t. I can’t handle a bunch of other people, man. I’m not up to it.”

  “I know I’m a big guy, but the last time I checked, I’m not a bunch. Just one. I’m the only one out here.”

  “I...” Greyson swallowed, eyes darting toward the door.

  Aha, there was a little crack in Greyson’s prickly armor.

  “Seriously. We’ll do a trial. Come for today. If you hate it...” He shrugged. Maybe Greyson wouldn’t notice that he hadn’t actually said he’d bring him back to this little death trap of a cabin. “You could have a long, hot bath...”

  Greyson’s eyes lit up for a moment. Another crack. Excellent.

  He got up. “Where’s your bag? Let’s get it packed up.”

  “Wait. Did I say...?”