ROAR (9 page)

Drawing a ragged breath, he returned to the bed and lowered the rail behind her before climbing in. The feeding tube was on the side she lay on, so he didn’t have to worry about pulling anything out.

He’d ordered a wider bed than most patients had when she’d left the hospital, and Gunnar made sure it came here with her. The bed was large enough for the two of them to curl up against one another and snuggle. Might not mean anything to her anymore, but it meant the world to him.

Tonight, for some reason, the need to pretend she was aware of him became paramount. In his mind, he pictured her awakening and gracing him with her gentle smile. He could hear her laugh robustly at something he whispered in her ear. God, he missed her laugh. Curling his body against her rigid, curved back, he wrapped his arm around her waist, careful to avoid the tube. Spooned together like this, he could pretend she was merely sleeping as she often was when he quit work and came to bed.

“Come back to me, Tori,” he pleaded before he realized he’d spoken aloud.

Stillness. No hint of movement, not even involuntary ones. She wasn’t like some of the victims in the countless videos he’d watched showing patients in a vegetative state grunting when spoken to or blinking their eyes to give “yes” or “no” responses to simple questions. While she sometimes made sounds, everyone agreed she had no awareness of what was going on around her. But her moans during physical therapy sessions had always made him worry he was hurting her.

She had no idea tonight that the man she once said was her whole world lay here beside her.

You’ve been the center of my universe for two decades.

’Till death do we part
.

“Look at us, Tori.” Neither of them had envisioned this outcome when their life together had been so happy.

But she’d have done the same for him if he’d been the one unable to escape the wreck unscathed.

Both had taken their vows seriously, although his definitions of life and of death had been altered by what had happened. No one could describe her state of being as
living
by any stretch of the imagination. Her body continued to exist thanks to modern medicine and tube feedings. Nothing more. Breathing, blinking, and reflexive swallowing, interspersed with moments when she appeared to wake and sleep.

He’d promised to stay by her side in sickness and in health, but had that included being kept alive by artificial means? Did it mean staying by her side and closing himself off from everything and everyone else?

He buried his face against her back and let the hot tears soak her gown. Why was the loss harder to deal with tonight than it had been every other night over the past four years? The future stretched out bleak and lonely with no hope of having the light in Tori’s eyes setting him ablaze again.

Hell, you gave up on that fantasy years ago
.
About two years, to be exact, when Gunnar pulled you back from the brink.

The first two years after the accident, he’d waited for a miracle. The next two, he’d been forced to be pragmatic and realistic or risk losing his mind.

So why start wishing for the impossible again now? Was it wrong of him to hope for more out of life? Tori wasn’t coming back.

What in bloody hell had changed since yesterday?
he asked himself again. Sure, he’d held on to hope longer than most might. But these days, he had to admit he came here more out of habit and obligation than any other reason. The essence that had been his beloved Tori had been snuffed out in the accident. His visits here usually helped fill some gaping hole inside him, if for only a brief moment or two before the emptiness consumed him once more. While he could touch her and talk to her, he’d been content.

Why was he not feeling that solace tonight, though? Why did it hurt so much more now?

The image of Pamela speaking passionately about her work at the hospital flashed across his mind’s eye.

Pamela.

She’d breathed life into him today for the first time in…too long. At least he still had his career to immerse himself in, but thoughts of being with her tomorrow to begin work on this project left him more excited than he’d been in ages.

He hugged Tori closer as more tears stung his eyes. The music wrapped around his senses, infusing a sense of peace into him.

“I love you, sweetheart.” His eyelids drooped as he gave in to much-needed sleep.

*     *     *

Shortly after midnight, Pamela entered her upstairs apartment, dropping her canvas bag into the nearest chair and wishing she could plop herself there, too. Night class at the academy on top of a long meeting in Breckenridge today had taken a toll. Despite her doctor’s assurances that she was on the road to recovery from the hard-to-diagnose fever that had sent her home from Afghanistan a month earlier than planned, she remained exhausted. Her physician had provided assurances to the academy and her that she was no longer contagious. However, she needed to take better care of herself. Perhaps she’d been pushing herself too hard, but this was the first time she’d had off work in years. She wanted to accomplish so much before returning to the hospital this summer.

Adding this project for Gunnar Larson hadn’t been among her plans, but this equipment would mean so much to the staff and patients there that she hadn’t been able to say no. Why should she put her submissive training on hold because she was feeling a little tired? Things would settle down soon.

The only thing she knew for certain: mastering submission would continue to be pitifully unattainable if she didn’t complete the academy’s coursework or find a mentor. Her first objective was to learn to turn off the voices in her head that kept her from fully experiencing the moment.

Perhaps this weekend she’d be won by a Dom who could make it happen the way she’d imagined and heard it could be. Whatever
it
was. Her wish list seemed to be ever-changing. At the moment, she hoped to find a Dom with a sense of humor who was firm yet gentle. Someone who needed her to nurture him, which in turn would help fulfill her need to serve others. A man who would take charge in the bedroom, pushing her limits while guiding her to be the best person she could be.

Her thoughts strayed to lunch this afternoon as she made her way to the bedroom, shedding clothes before tossing them in the laundry basket. Her head ached from all that had happened today.

The conversation with Kristoffer and Gunnar had been eye-opening, especially with Kristoffer. Such an intelligent, thoughtful man. Not at all what her first impression of him had been. He’d surprised her with his candid and solicitous nature. He’d been, well, caring, for lack of a better word. Not cold and distant.

Yet she couldn’t help but feel a deep and profound sadness surrounding him. Perhaps his marriage wasn’t a happy one. He hadn’t said much about his wife, not that he’d revealed all that much about himself, either. She’d certainly dominated the conversation.

Pamela sat at the vanity, removed her makeup, and released her hair from the pins and scrunchie that held it in place. At the academy, she’d been instructed to wear it down, but she preferred to pull it up at other times to keep it out of the way. These days, she typically used a military doughnut technique Heidi had taught her to hold it in place. She picked up her brush and ran it through the loosened strands and let her mind wander.

Thoughts of what she wanted as far as love and marriage invaded next. She did not intend to jump into marriage quickly, if at all. Somehow, the thought of a marriage certificate made her more nervous than blissful. Why have a legal document that most didn’t even choose to honor faithfully?

When she met the Dominant she couldn’t live without, why couldn’t they exchange solemn, heartfelt vows that were meaningful to them without putting their trust in a piece of paper or an institution to hold them to their promises?

Maybe someday I’ll find a man I can make that kind of commitment to.

She sighed. If such a man existed.

Deciding to shower in the morning, she stretched out under the sheet and comforter and stared up at the ceiling for a long time, unable to quiet her busy thoughts. She’d gone to the academy to explore how to explore and develop her newly discovered alpha submissive side. Until she decided her lifestyle calling was something else, she’d stay on that track.

The bed seemed large and lonely tonight, even more so than usual. The whole apartment was for that matter. On nights like this, she wished she had someone here to share the highlights of her day with or simply to curl up against and feel his strong, protective arms around her.

Her needs were simple. Safety, guidance, and, eventually, love.

Yes, deep down she wanted it all. Career, commitment, possibly even family. She just didn’t like to admit it as much these days as she was closing in on forty with no prospects in sight.

Maybe someday.

Her next cognitive thought was the smell of coffee permeating her senses. She opened gritty eyes and stared dumbly at the clock for a few seconds until the fog of sleep dissipated. Six-thirty. She always refilled the automatic coffee maker for the next day’s use, but wished she’d set the timer for later. Sleep deprivation was taking its toll.

Pamela tossed back the covers. No sense lying around, though. She wanted to check her e-mails to see if the foundation director or hospital administrator had responded to her with a list of priorities for the facility. She’d like to have specifics to share with Kristoffer when they met today.

After powering up her laptop, she found an e-mail from the chief of staff in Afghanistan listing two major pieces of medical equipment they could use right away. She did some research on costs and prepared a sheet to share with Kristoffer.

Her stomach growled, and she noticed the time. Nearly eleven! Where had the morning gone? Since lunch was a short time away, she didn’t bother to eat anything now. She texted Kristoffer to let him know she was running a few minutes behind. Good thing she’d suggested a place nearby. She closed the lid on her laptop and darted to the bathroom to shower and dress before heading toward the door. She hated being tardy. So unprofessional. The acquisition of this equipment would be life-changing for patients at the hospital, and she didn’t want to jeopardize anything.

When she pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot, there was only a silver Jaguar and a Ford station wagon. No doubt Kristoffer drove the Jag. She grabbed her briefcase and hurried toward the front door only to have it opened before she could reach for the handle. Kristoffer Larson, in a light gray suit, smiled in greeting.

“Perfect timing.”

She knew she was a tad late, but appreciated him for not calling her on it. “Good morning, Kristoffer. Or do you prefer Kris?” She remembered his cousin calling him by the shortened moniker.

“Kristoffer. My cousin knew me when I was younger and less formal.”

She wondered what he was like as a boy. Something told her he’d broken a lot of hearts.

The hostess seated them near a window at the far end of the room where they could enjoy privacy when the place filled up with the lunch crowd. She ordered a glass of lemon water and a Caesar salad; he chose a soup and sandwich combo. Kristoffer instructed the server to put both meals on one bill.

“Thanks for lunch—and for meeting with me so soon. I’m anxious to get moving on this.”

Pamela decided to begin right away, pulling the printouts from her briefcase. She passed them across the table. “These are some of the most crucial needs the administrator identified.”

He barely glanced at the paper. “Yes, I’ve talked with him already.”

Her eyes opened wider. “You have?”

He nodded. “I wanted to establish a rapport with him, because I’ll need him to sign off on a lot of this. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all. The sooner we can make this happen, the better.”

He finally started poring over her printouts. “You’re very much in sync with what he told me.”

“We’ve had a number of conversations about what we’d like to have available to us—mostly wishful thinking sessions. That Gunnar has made this generous offer still has me pinching myself.”

He set the papers aside when their meals were served. As she was about to take a bite, he said, “There’s just one thing you left out.”

She lowered her fork. “What’s that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been sick?”

She waved away his concern but wondered why Pierre had spoken out of turn. “I’m nearly one hundred percent again. Just some fluke fever I must have caught from a tick or mosquito bite. Not knowing the source, my physician prescribed a couple of the most effective antibiotics used for fevers contracted in that region, and it went away.”

“They weren’t able to diagnose what it was?”

“The lab work is too expensive, and some won’t show up as a positive anyway until much later. Best to treat first and ask questions later.”

“Are you under medical care here?” He didn’t let up.

“I’m a doctor, remember?”

He narrowed his eyes. “And from what I understand, a doctor often makes a lousy patient.”

She laughed, hoping to get him to lighten up. “Probably, but I assure you that when I’m tired, I sleep; when I’m hungry, I eat.”
Well, most of the time.

“Should you be undergoing the rigorous courses at the academy, though? That has to be draining on your energy level so late at night.”

“Did I look as though I was suffering ill effects when you toured the school the other night?”

“No. You looked quite healthy to me.”

Her face grew warm, and she decided to ignore the innuendo, whether he’d intended to be suggestive or not.

“But this is only the beginning of the academy’s training schedule.”

She picked up her fork and speared a leaf of romaine. “I assure you, I’m taking care of myself.”

*     *     *

Kristoffer couldn’t help but grin at the flush in her cheeks that no doubt stemmed from embarrassment now rather than any lingering fever. Still, when he’d learned how seriously ill she’d been a month ago, he wondered why she was putting herself through so much when she should be taking it easy.