Chapter 25

Croc had awoken something in me, and not just in a physical sense. It was cells and chemistry and DNA. He'd set fire to my nervous system, boiled my blood, melted me down, then left me anticipating when he'd put me back together again. I wanted more. For the first time in my life, I wanted a man. I wanted to give myself, and then that man disappeared.

If we entered the same room, he left it. If I sought him out, he brushed me aside. He was busy hunting, fixing something, checking this, doing that, and he always needed to be alone. For weeks, I barely saw him, then, I stopped seeing him at all. It was as if he'd never existed, and the only indication I had that he was even still alive was Julia. Each time we ate, she made him a plate then ventured off unannounced to deliver it to him. She refused to let me follow, ignored my questions, told me all was fine, said Croc had his reasons, and for the first time since I'd known her, her lips were sealed.

I paced the floor every time she left, tossed and turned through sleepless nights, and with each day that passed, my frustration festered like a wound. The need became tangible–a living, breathing entity that clawed me from the inside out and left my skin raw, sensitive, and far too tight.

My hormones were on high alert and ready to take the plunge, but the tall glass of water they'd chosen to dive into was nowhere to be found.

I lay in bed, wide awake, staring at the ceiling as if it were everything I'd ever hated. My teeth bared a little more each time an alligator started screeching. They'd been doing it more and more, especially at night, and something about the sound inflamed my irritation, because I wanted to ask him why, and he wasn't there to tell me.

He didn't get to do that. He didn't get to ingrain himself into my life then silently slip out of it. It wasn't fair. If I'd upset him, he could at least explain. Nothing made any sense, and I couldn't take it anymore.

I kicked my way out of the blanket and smacked my fists against the cushions on either side of me. My teeth clenched tighter, forming a barrier between my scream and the peacefully sleeping children in the next room. It wasn't working. It wouldn't stop. He'd done this. He'd done something, and I'd be damned if I was going to go one more minute without him fixing it.

I rolled from the couch, threw on my shoes, and stormed out the back door with no direction or thought. It was later than sin, and the swamp was alive with bellowing gators. Grunts sounded from the east, a low hum drifted from the west, then silence fell for a period of time before the harmony repeated itself from a new direction. I didn't understand what was happening, not without Croc to explain it, but I knew it was somehow connected, and I was determined to understand before the sun rose.

I trudged through the grass, following my instincts, smelling the air and praying I'd be able to sense him the way he could me. An internal compass urged me into the thick trees, over roots and through the mud. I ignored each scratch from a limb and gave little thought to what dangers may lurk within the darkness.

My stomach clenched and held as his scent hit my senses. Earthy and masculine and raw. I picked up my pace, following the smell until I could hear his harsh breaths, then I saw him.

I pressed both hands against a cypress and peeked around it.

Croc sat against a tree, his head hung forward. Thick chains cut across his chest. He was locked in place, banded to the trunk. His hands were behind his back, and his legs were stretched out flat, ankles bound with thin rope. I stared, shocked to see him that way; hair disheveled, glinting with sweat. Red marked the skin where he was bound as if he'd been fighting to break free. Had Julia done this? Why?

I took a step forward, and a twig snapped beneath my foot.

Croc's head shot upward, and he sniffed the air hard. A deep, masculine laugh rumbled from his chest, then like a star caught behind a cloud, he darkened and jerked savagely against the restraint.

I jolted back a step. "Croc?"

"Come here," he said, but the rough tone to his voice didn't sound like him at all. It was aggressive, guttural, and as his muscles bulged and strained to no avail, his anger mounted. He jerked again, baring his teeth and fighting against the rope until a trickle of blood rolled down his stomach. He groaned and slumped forward, focusing his steady gaze on me. "Willow." The clouds gathered around him, building a storm. "Untie me."

I hesitated, caught between common sense and senseless need. "Why are you tied?" I took another small step, reassured that he couldn't free himself, then slowly filled the gap between my hiding spot and his feet.

He stared up at me, breathing harder, lips curved as he twisted deftly against whatever held his wrists behind him. "Help me with the rope, Willow."

"I don't know if I should." I peeked around him, checking where the thin twine was wrapped tightly around his wrists.

It put us close, and I sucked in a breath as he darted forward and bit the waistband of my jeans.

I jerked back and stared down at him. Something wasn't right. He wasn't himself. "Why are you tied?"

He hung forward, stretched toward me, eyes locked on my middle for a full minute before he cut a look up at my face. "It's mating season." His voice was low and slow. "You can feel it, can't you, little fish? That's why you're here. That's how you found me." He shifted his left shoulder, tugging hard to one side. "If you untie me, I'll take care of you."

Something carnal beckoned me closer, but under it was a clear warning. There was a reason he was restrained. He'd chosen it. No way could anyone have tied him like that if he hadn't let them, and judging by the amount of chain and rope he'd made them use, he'd been deadly serious about keeping himself contained. "I don't think I should. If you let yourself be tied like this, there had to be a reason."

"The reason doesn't matter." He jerked again, then clenched his jaw and viciously wrenched back and forth, kicking his feet against the ground before he fell still again. His whole body stiffened as he glared at the ground and caught his breath. "You're here," he said, returning to the calm. Like Jekyll and Hyde, he flipped, animal to man, rabid to serene. "You came here. I can smell that you're ready for me. You want me inside you." He thrust his hips upwards and bit his lip. "Untie me, Willow."

My eyes widened, but a dull ache throbbed between my thighs. I could barely breathe. He wasn't himself. Croc would have never acted that way, spoken that way. It was different, and I would have been a liar if I said I wasn't excited. His need for me was intoxicating. It wasn't the same as the others. He'd tied himself to protect me. He'd been strapped to this tree for who knows how long just so he wouldn't push me into anything. Men had been pushing me into things for as long as I could remember. They never paused to do so, and I'd never had a leg to stand on against them. But not then. Not that night. Not this man. Raw power radiated from him, unparalleled strength. He was the strongest man I'd ever known, the first one I'd ever loved, and he was completely under my control. The irony was beautiful.

Croc must have sensed the change in my thoughts; his eyes narrowed, and his body stilled. "Willow," he murmured. "Untie me."

I shifted my weight. "I don't think I will," I said. "This is a new situation that I find very interesting."

He jerked again to no avail, then rumbled low in his chest. "Do you?"

"I do." I stepped forward and lowered myself in front of him. "If you think about it, you're completely at my mercy."

He leaned closer, fighting to reach me. "Then give me mercy."

I studied his eyes, the sharp angles of his face, then pulled back.

Croc growled, jerked, and fought harder, then sagged again, breathing heavily.

The tension thickened, and whatever atmospheric phenomenon that had taken over the swamp made me bold. I leaned over him, straddling his waist, and pressed a kiss against his chest. "Is this okay?" I asked, mimicking the words he'd said to me.

He moved his hips, thrusting upwards hard enough to bounce my whole body.

I gasped and clung to his shoulders.

He smiled. "Untie me, and you won't have to ask."

I swallowed hard and sucked in a breath. "I don't mind asking." My hands pressed against his shoulders, leveraging my weight as I formed a gap between our bodies and focused on his face. I kissed his jaw, the corner of his lips.

Croc turned his head and captured my mouth like a man starved. He kissed me deeply, urgently, stealing control even when he was completely contained.

I could have broken free, but I didn't. I savored the feeling and sat back down, moving against him.

He bit my lip and groaned. "I'm yours, Willow. Every part of me."

"I thought a person couldn't take a body," I breathed as I continued. Our clothes were too thick. The barrier was offensive. The need clawed harder, and I knew I'd die if I didn't do what my body was urging me toward.

He watched as I moved against him, eyes hooded, face darkening once again. "I can give it." He pulled at the ropes, wiggling his shoulders as he stretched back and forth in an attempt to free himself. "I want to give it to you. All of it." His jaw clenched, neck strained. "Untie me, and I'll show you."

"I don't think you'd be telling me to untie you if you were yourself right now," I whispered, but I didn't stop. This is what I'd needed. I needed this friction, this man. I needed to feel his shoulders, arms, chest. My hands ran over him, memorizing each inch of his skin. I'd been slowly burning alive, and he was like rain on a fiery blacktop. Together, we produced enough steam to build a sauna, and I wanted to sweat. I wanted to leave him revived and renewed, healthier, clean.

"Willow?"

The tone of his voice caught my attention. I locked eyes with him, and for that brief moment, he was Croc. Sweet, lovable, endearing Croc. He shook his head. "You should go."

"You want me to go?"

"I want you to be safe, and you're right. I did this for a reason. Go back to the house, and I'll be back once this is over."

"How long is that?" My voice came out shrill, outraged. He was asking me to leave, and every part of me was furious at the request. Couldn't he see that I needed him? Couldn't he see that I was suffering? Didn't he want me? He'd wanted me bad five seconds before.

"Another month." He grimaced and clenched his eyes shut. A war played across his face. "You need to go. Now."

"I don't want to go."

His nostrils flared. "Willow." My name was a warning. "I've almost got my wrists loose."

My heart skipped and stuttered. The anticipation grew. If he'd meant to scare me away, it wasn't working. "That's exciting."

He groaned. "You don't want me like this. My control is slipping, and I won't be gentle. I won't be... I won't be a man." His eyes cut into me, demanding I listen and understand.

I caressed his cheek, his hair, gently ran my fingers over his ear, then back up over his scalp again. When had this happened? When had he become so precious to me? I'd pay any price for him, give any part of myself for him. "I've never liked men, Croc," I whispered gently. "But I love you."