Safe Harbor

by Christine Feehan

  Hannah pulled back, blinking away tears. "You can't do that anymore. Please, Jonas, just go."

  He sank back on his heels, studying her distressed expression. "You know me better than that. Start talking, Hannah, and it had better make sense, because you and I both know, I'm not letting you walk out of here alone. You want to leave, we'll leave together, but you're not going anywhere alone."

  "I can't be with you. I just can't. You have to accept that it's my decision."

  "Not on your life, baby."

  "Jonas. God. Why can't you just let it be? Look at me. I can't look at myself without feeling sick." The admission was made in her soft, husky voice, but the whisper of secrecy created an intimacy between them. "I can't bear for you to look at me like this. And I'd never, never want to be seen with you in public."

  "Oh for God's sake." Exasperated, he glared at her. "Are you kidding me?"

  "Jonas, you're very good looking and you're well known around here. You hold a political office. You ran for sheriff and you were elected. Can you see us side by side? Poor Jonas with his freak of a girlfriend."

  "You aren't doing this, Hannah."

  "It's the truth. I can't walk outside without photographers wanting to snap my picture and plaster it all over the gossip rags. With you, I'd be in all the newspapers. I do have some vanity and some pride."

  "I'm not listening to this crap." He stood, for one moment looming over her, throwing a dark shadow across her face, his jaw set, his mouth in a hard line, then he simply scooped her up and cradled her against his chest, sitting in her chair, holding her on his lap, blanket and all. "You're so silly sometimes, Hannah, you make me crazy. I don't give a damn what people say. I never have."

  He kissed the corner of her eye, pushing the blanket back, so he could rub his chin over the top of her silky curls and kiss her eyebrow, blaze a path to the corner of her mouth, skimming the angry red slashes with tiny butterfly kisses as he went. His mouth settled on hers with exquisite gentleness. Her lips were soft and full and trembled beneath his. Her answering kiss was tentative, reluctant, so he kept coaxing her, nibbling at her lower lip, teasing the seam of her mouth with his tongue, brushing his lips back and forth over hers, tugging with his teeth until she gave in and opened her mouth to his.

  He poured everything he was into the kiss, giving her love and tenderness and support, mixing it with desire and heat and raw need. His palm settled around the nape of her neck, fingers finding the treasure of platinum and gold corkscrew curls, holding her still so he could explore her mouth. He was careful, gentle, never letting his passion have free rein, never allowing it to carry him away. Her chest and ribs and stomach were covered in wounds and he took care not to rub against her skin although holding her wasn't enough.

  Hannah's mouth was warm and moist and tasted like she did, honey and spice and ultrafeminine. He could spend a lifetime kissing her. At first, she was passive, allowing him to kiss her, but as he coaxed, she began to come to life, breathing with him, tongue tangling with his, sending delicious little licks of electricity singing through his veins. With great care, he brought her closer, angled her mouth for a deeper, more satisfying kiss.

  Her lips heated, softened, clung to his. His body turned to steel, hard and hot and so alive he could feel lightning arcing through his bloodstream and heard thunder in his ears. His palm cradled the nape of her neck, and he shifted her just a little so she would fit more comfortably in his lap. He had her trapped, but was careful to make her feel safe, not captured. Loving Hannah wasn't easy. She was always on the verge of taking flight, almost as if she was afraid of the intensity of passion he roused in her.

  One hand slid down her spine, a slow journey of discovery, while his mouth tried to sate an ever growing desire. Lust was sharp and deep, mixing with love, so full he couldn't tell where one started and the other left off. Hannah was an explosive mixture of exotic, innocence and pure unadulterated sex. She moved and he was instantly riveted. It didn't take much. Even her new voice seemed erotic to him. Hannah fit with him. He'd known on some level even when they were kids, that she was the one. She was made for him. He kissed her again and again. Soft, gentle kisses, hard, hungry kisses, probing and exploring her heated, passionate mouth.

  Hannah moved against him restlessly, her body in meltdown, her need of him shifting from mental to physical. His mouth seemed to be devouring her, yet she wanted more, wanted to be closer, wanted to feel the heat of his skin beneath her hands and mouth. She was so selfish. It was always about her. Her wants. Her needs. She was putting Jonas in danger, just as she was putting her sisters in danger by staying there. Abruptly she lifted her head, aching with wanting to hold him close, afraid she didn't have the necessary courage to let him go.

  "Jonas..." She was going to have a panic attack. She was. Again. Right in front of him. She couldn't catch her breath.

  Couldn't think with the thundering beat of terror in her ears and fear pounding through her body. She hated the insidious weakness that crept up and pounced whenever she was certain she could be strong. It stole too much of her life away, it took her ability to function and reason.

  "Don't say it, baby, please." He rested his head against hers. "Let it be for now." He dragged in a hard breath, trying to bring himself back to reality.

  She was getting ready to bolt. Hannah was pulling back, away from him, and it had nothing at all to do with arguing. She was so determined to protect them all, she was making herself sick. And if she had one more panic attack and fell apart in front of him, he was going to pick her up and carry her off where no one else would ever find them, just like a caveman. It was going to happen.

  Jonas pushed down his own panic and kissed her mouth and forehead, gently pulling back himself. He set her on her feet as he stood, holding out his hand to her, determined not to lose her. "I swear, Hannah, you're thinking so much, smoke is coming out of your ears. Just stop. Let's stay outside together until you're too tired and I'll lie down with you. If you're afraid of that, I'll go sit out there on the bluff again and spend another night in the cold."

  Hannah hesitated, and then slowly stretched out her hand until her fingers lay in his palm. He tightened his hold instantly, not giving her time to change her mind. The air was cooler as the breeze blew in from the sea, bringing salt and mist and the taste of the ocean. He'd much rather lie beside her warm, soft body, even if it meant his own would be hard and painful, than spend another night worried while he sat on the bluff watching from a distance.

  "I knew you were out there. It made me feel safe."

  "You are safe with me." He wrapped her back in her blanket to shelter her from the heavier wind. When she sat down, he pulled his chair close to hers. Leaning forward, he framed her face with his hands and looked directly into her eyes, capturing her gaze so she couldn't look away. "I know you're scared, baby, but that's not being a coward. We have something special between us. You can't let this madman take it away."

  Hannah couldn't help herself. In spite of her resolve to protect him, she leaned close, putting her head on his shoulder, and snuggled into him. "I know we do, Jonas. I just don't know what to do about it." She pressed her lips against his neck and sat up again, pulling back.

  "I do," he answered. "I know exactly what to do."

  She wasn't touching that. Instead, Hannah drew her knees up and stared out over the ocean, where the sun had already sunk into its depths. Earlier, the sun, looking like a giant red beach ball, glowing with promise, rays streaking out with orange and red bolts as it tipped, had seemed to pour molten lava into the churning waves. The entire sky had been layered in bright, vivid color. The sunset was always so beautiful, but she loved this time of day, just as night and day met and passed, like two ships out over the sea.

  The sky darkened slowly, as if a blanket was slowly drawn over it. Clouds drifted lazily and stars glittered like gems. The moon, in whatever stage it happened to be in, gleamed a beautiful silver, spilling its light across the dark waves. Peace re
igned.

  Jonas had deliberately kept her out here, out where she could breathe freely and without too much worry. He had noticed her quickened pulse, her labored lungs and the desperation building in her. She thought she'd been clever hiding it, she could always hide from everyone--but not Jonas.

  Hannah rubbed her forehead. Her face itched and burned, but if she touched it, the sensation was worse. She felt revulsion in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't bear to look at her face in the mirror and she had no idea how much longer she could continue to face Jonas feeling so broken. She stretched out her hands to him for evidence. They were shaking.

  Jonas caught both of them and brought them to his mouth, his lips tracing the slash marks. "Give yourself time, Hannah, but don't think you can shut me out. I'm not about to let you go."

  "I'm trapped here now, Jonas. I can't go out in public. I can't remember what I might have done to make someone hate me so much. I can't make love to you ever again..." Her voice broke and she snatched her hands back, bringing the blanket up around her face to cover her sob. "I hate this--this self-pity. I promised myself I wouldn't do it, but I have to stay away from you. If I see you, Jonas, it's so much worse. I can't see you."

  He felt raw inside, torn open with his guts spilling out. He dropped his face into his hands for a moment, trying to clear his brain, trying to allow himself to think clearly. He took a deep shuddering breath and straightened his shoulders. "You're confused, Hannah, and it's understandable. Fortunately for both of us, I'm not. You need me, whether you think so or not, and I know damn well I need you."

  He waited until she looked up at him. "I do, Hannah. I never thought I'd look at a woman and know she's the reason the sun comes up in the morning, but you are."

  "What if they hurt you? Or my sisters? Jonas, what if some madman takes a knife and comes at you in the dark? You just turn around and he's slashing you. Saying 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' but cutting you into little pieces. I couldn't bear that. I really couldn't. I'd rather give you up and have you stay alive--unhurt."

  Jonas's head went up alertly. "What did he say?" He reached out and pulled her hands away from her face. "Look at me, Hannah. He said something to you?"

  She frowned, trying to remember. "I'm so tired, Jonas, and I can't think straight when I'm tired." She glanced inside at the bed. "I'm afraid to lie down."

  He tamped down impatience, his thumb sliding over the backs of her fingers, stroking her sensitive skin. "I am, too. Nightmares are no fun." He tugged her hand, determined to get her to lie down on the bed with him and rest. She was exhausted, sitting up night after night. Perhaps it had been a mistake bringing her home from the hospital so soon. At least there, they could have knocked her out so she could get some rest.

  "Come on, baby, I'm not taking no for an answer and you're too tired to argue with me when you know you won't win." He tugged at her hand, taking her with him back inside her bedroom.

  She went with him reluctantly, settling beside him, insisting he keep the French doors open. Jonas wrapped his arm around her waist and held her close. She was stiff at first, but slowly, as he nuzzled her neck and pressed kisses into her hair without attempting anything else, she relaxed against him, her body soft and feminine.

  "I'm hurting my sisters. I hate it. I can feel them all the time now--except Elle. She stays away from me. She doesn't want to intrude on my privacy. But I feel so horrible because I can't go back to the other me."

  She leaned into him more, fitting her body closely with his, brushing his groin with her bottom and sending an electrical current racing through his bloodstream. Jonas gritted his teeth and breathed.

  "Can you feel them? The house is filled with grief and sympathy and confusion. I've done that, Jonas, and I don't know how to undo it."

  He brushed kisses over her eyebrow and down along the savage wounds to the corner of her mouth and then to her throat. "You didn't do it, a man with a knife did it. We love each other, all of us, Hannah, and we'll be stronger when we come out of this. He can't destroy our family. Your sisters will give you whatever you need to cope with this, and they'll cope in their own way. They don't baby you because they think you can't handle it, they do so because they want to show you love."

  "Why do I get so upset with them?"

  There was desperation in her voice. Jonas shifted her against his chest, so that her head rested on his shoulder and he could wrap both arms around her. "Anger is a part of recovery and all of us are here, close to you. Someone hurt you, Hannah, traumatized you, you're going to be angry one moment and afraid the next. That's natural and we all expect it."

  "I don't--didn't. I'm ashamed that I can't stop hurting everyone."

  His hand slid over her hair, tangled in the silky strands.

  "Go to sleep, baby, and let me worry tonight. Your sisters are gathering to aid you. I can feel the surge of power in the house. When you wake up, your wounds won't be quite so raw and hopefully you'll feel a little more at peace."

  Hannah allowed her eyes to close as she inhaled, dragging Jonas's scent into her lungs. He felt, smelled and tasted so familiar to her. Safe. Strong. So Jonas--and he was right. She felt the rise of feminine power, strong and sure and loving, all directed toward her. Tears stung her eyes and wet her lashes. No matter how upset they were, her sisters reached out to her with love and healing.

  "I love being a Drake," she whispered.

  "I do, too," he answered and brushed another kiss along the nape of her neck.

  Chapter Thirteen

  JONAS came awake, fully alert. It had taken hours for him to drift off, too aware of Hannah beside him. Her sleep was fitful, her body moving constantly and her arms flailing as if defending herself. She cried once, breaking his heart. He lay in the darkness, stroking her hair and murmuring softly to her until she calmed. Now, he lay in the dark with the butt of his gun snug in his palm, his finger on the trigger, listening to her soft moans of distress, his stomach in knots.

  Hannah, sweetheart, it's just a bad dream, he assured her, but he pulled his arm from around her warm, soft body and sat up with deliberate slowness, careful not to make a sound. His instincts were kicking in hard and maybe it wasn't a dream after all.

  He put his hand over her mouth and leaned close to her. Stay quiet. Tell me what you feel.

  Hannah's eye, so blue in the daytime, appeared dark and fathomless at night. She frowned beneath his palm and then he felt her reaching, her mind expanding, searching... A gasp escaped. They're here. We have to get downstairs now. There was urgency in her voice, in her mind, in the way she sat up and gripped his arm.

  The doors to the balcony snapped closed without a sound, curtains flying at the rash. Jonas scowled, annoyance rushing across his face. "That wasn't necessary, Hannah. You could have accidentally made noise and alerted them that we're aware of their presence. Besides, I'm going out anyway to see who's coming at us. You go downstairs and call 911."

  Hannah shook her head. "It wasn't me, Jonas, the house has gone into protection mode. We have to get downstairs right now." She was trembling.

  Jonas helped her out of bed. They were both still wearing clothes, so he simply wrapped her sweater around her and ushered her toward the door. "I'll take you down with your sisters, baby, but I have to get outside."

  Hannah slipped her hand into his. "No, you don't understand. You can't go outside."

  Jonas let her pull him out of the room and head down the hall in the dark. Below, in the living room as they came down the winding staircase, he could see candles flickering in a wide circle around the intricate mosaic on the floor in the entryway. A second circle enclosed the first, a wide pathway containing small dark smudges every so many inches.

  Sarah reached out and hugged Hannah, drawing her into the center of the circle. Hannah kept possession of his hand, tugging until he stepped inside. The moment he did, Joley and Elle closed the circle behind them.

  "Sit, Jonas," Sarah said, pointing to a spot at the top of the mosaic.


  "Sweetheart, I have to go outside where I'm going to be the most help." He looked around the circle at the faces of the Drake sisters. In the candlelight, their beauty struck him, all different, all exotic. He could well believe they were ancient souls from a time long past with their hair down and their cool assessing eyes. Mostly what struck him was their lack of fear. Like Hannah, they were trembling, but it wasn't because they were afraid of the men creeping toward their home through the trees and shrubbery.

  "The house will protect us now, Jonas," Sarah said. "You'll have to stay inside."

  He hated it when their beliefs and rituals clashed with his territory. "The house didn't protect you last year when the men after your fiance broke in here and nearly killed you," he pointed out. "I'm not taking any chances. Call the sheriff and get me some backup."

  Hannah clung to him, refusing to let him go. "That was different, Jonas, we'd opened the house up to those men. We had the gates unlocked and the doors were welcoming. We put the house in protection mode when I came home from the hospital. Please sit down with us. You can't go outside."

  Sarah shook her head. "In any case, the phone isn't working. We're on our own."

  "More reason than ever for me to be outside where I can protect you."

  Joley caught his other arm and Libby reached out, shaking her head. Kate and Abbey moved in behind him. Then Elle put her hand on him and he felt it--the shuddering of the grounds and the sudden shifting in the house as if it was awakening. His stomach lurched in protest and his heart accelerated as adrenaline flooded his body.

  "What if Jackson comes? He always knows when you're in danger, Elle." He was suddenly very much afraid he didn't know what kind of power he was dealing with.

  "The house will judge their intent toward us, not toward anyone else," Sarah assured him, "and act accordingly."

  "The house would never harm Jackson," Elle answered calmly.

  He looked around at the somber faces and sighed. He couldn't imagine a house protecting them, but he could protect them--all of them--even from inside if he had to. "Tell me you have a gun, Sarah."

  "I have one as well," Joley said. "And yes, a permit to carry it, so don't ask."