a relief; it had been much easier to walk away with a clear conscience.
Luc struggled to keep his expression neutral; it wasnât easy. He couldnât remember the last time he had felt anything like this sort of blinding rage, this desire to rip someone limb from limb, and laugh while he was doing it.
âWhy didnât you tell your mother the scumbag hit you? She talked like he was the second coming.â
âIt would have upset her andâ¦I suppose I wasâ¦ashamedâ? Irrational, I know, but Iâm not a victim.â
For a long painful moment Luc looked down into her face. His shoulders lifted. âNo, just a stubborn idiot,â he gritted. âNot all men are vicious bullies.â
âOh, God, I know that!â she exclaimed. âDonât run away with the impression Iâm emotionally scarred or anything. Damn, damn thingâ¦â she addressed her curse to her shoe.
âWhat are you doing?â Her voice was high-pitched with alarm as he hunkered down in front of her. She stiffened as Luc took hold of her ankle. Megan swayed like a sapling caught in a strong gust of wind then, eyes half closed, mouth slightly open, she took a series of shallow breaths and she forced herself to remain still.
âThis situation requires a light touch.â
Well, he had that, she was forced to concede as slither after shivery slither of sensation sliced like a knife through her helplessly receptive body. It was no longer possible for her to ignore the heat, specifically the heat between her thighs. When his fingertips brushed against the fine, almost invisible denier that covered the skin of her calf she had to bite her lip to stop herself gasping out loud. The situation made it hard to think straightâactually, it made it hard to think full stop!
âItâs stuck fast,â came his oddly muffled verdict after a few moments.
The dull thud in her ears made his voice seem to come from a long way off to Megan.
âTell me something I didnât know,â she grunted, trying desperately to marshal her thoughts.
The man kneeling at her feet lifted his head. In the fading light she didnât see the lines of darker colour scoring his high slashing cheekbones, she could just see his eyesâ¦and his mouth and⦠oh, God â!
âYou should take them off.â
Anything you say. God, please let me not have said that out loud! She ran the tip of her tongue nervously over her dry lips. âWhatâ¦?â she croaked.
âThe shoes,â he replied. âYou should take them off. The stockings too,â he added as an afterthought.
âHow did you know?â She stopped and shook her head blushing deeply. Far better, under the circumstances, not to know how he knew when a woman was wearing stockings and not tights.
âDonât worry, I donât have X-ray vision.â
âI wasnât worried.â The knot of heat low in her belly made it hard for her to concentrate on what she was doing and a second later she found herself standing in one shoe, teetering awkwardly to one side without having any clear recollection of how she had got to be in that position.
âFor Godâs sakeâ¦â His voice impatient, Luc caught her hands in his and placed them firmly on his own shoulders. âHold onto me.â
It was either that or fall down in an ungainly heap.
âGive me a minute,â she heard him say. âThatâs it.â Hazily she saw him rise, her shoe minus the heel in his triumphant grasp. âThe shoeâs a write-off, Iâm afraid.â
She shook her head; the loss of a shoe was the least of her problems! Her response to this man was less easy to dismiss. In the gathering dusk it was impossible to read the expression on his lean, hard-boned face.
âIt doesnât matter.â Awkwardness made her voice abrupt. Minus her heels she only just topped his shoulders. The illusion of being small and
Ellen Datlow, Nick Mamatas