Always a Warrior

by Patricia Bruening

  "It's cold out here,” he murmured gently as he turned her to face him. She blinked and stared at his chest.

  He shifted his jacket to drape over her shoulders and snapped the collar closed. His knuckles brushed her throat. Sizzling bolts of need shot into her and she stumbled back against the tree. He skimmed a knuckle up her throat until he tipped her chin. She looked into his concerned eyes as they searched her face.

  "Crying?” he said softly as his finger traced the path of her tears.

  She shook her head in denial. His heat swamped her, warmer even than his jacket that carried the sheer male scent of him. She shuddered but not from the pervading chill of the approaching storm. He took one step, slid his arms around her, and pressed her closer to his hard chest. It seemed he surrounded her, drew her into his enervating heat. And, oh, how she wanted to stay there, wrapped in his arms. A heavy sigh escaped her and she tilted her head to look at him.

  His eyes were dark, dangerous, and compelling. Something even darker, even more dangerous lurked in the depths of that relentless gaze. Her heart lurched then pounded erratically in her chest. He shifted, his arms tightening around her for a brief moment before he slid his hands to her waist. She was caught, trapped, between the tree and the hard length of him. The rough bark pressed into her back. His erection pressed into her. His eyes glittered with a feral hunger that sparked a raging fire deep inside her.

  "Jesus,” she groaned, unable to pull her gaze from him.

  She flattened her palms on his chest. He was so warm under her hands, hands that curled into fists clutching his shirt. Instead of pushing him away, she dragged him closer. He gripped her hips and pulled her into his heavy arousal. Drowning in dark chocolate pools, she squirmed against him. Her lips parted on a shuddering breath and his mouth covered hers. The sharp vicious hunger, the frantic need for him, slapped her hard.

  A ragged groan erupted from deep in his throat. She swallowed the low sound, the very breath that uttered it. Can't do this, she warned her wayward body. But the warning was weak. He plunged his tongue past her lips, stroking and exploring, taking what he wanted. Logical thought rapidly dissolving. She struggled to remember why she could not have him, why she could not let him take her into this vicious, glorious passion.

  There's a reason, she thought frantically as his mouth relentlessly devoured hers. When she thought she'd never breathe again, he dragged his mouth from hers. His lips raced hot and moist to the shell of her ear.

  "I want you,” he growled softly.

  Want. The word stunned her, slapped her. He wanted her. He didn't love her. She jerked her head back, smacked the tree so hard bolts of lightening exploded in her brain.

  "Oh Jesus.” She sucked in a rasping breath. Her heaving breasts brushed his chest. Desire warred with pain in her head. She uncurled her hands from his shirt and shoved half-blind from that inadvertent smack of sense into her head.

  "No,” she sobbed in denial, of herself as well as him. “No, please."

  He released her so fast she stumbled into the tree again. Short, shallow breaths rushed in and out of her lungs. She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed a groan of misery. Not again, she reminded herself. She turned and stumbled into something else hard but very warm.

  "Laurie!” The sharp crack of Damien's voice thundered in her ears. His hands gripped her upper arms and halted her floundering escape.

  "What the hell is wrong with you?” Anger and uncertainty mingled in his tone.

  Her eyes snapped open and she gaped at him. He stood rigid, holding her in place. The harsh planes and angles of his face were stark in the gloomy pre-storm atmosphere crackling around them. She sucked in air, let it out, and inhaled again. The hard glint in his eyes sent shivers along her spine.

  He dropped his hands from her as though she scorched him. He stepped back from her but that relentless penetrating stare bored into her.

  "Damien, I...” she began.

  "Save it,” he barked stonily. “We're burning daylight. We've got one last full day of training ahead of us. We're wasting time."

  He stalked off toward the cabin. Laurie stared after him, shocked at that very abrupt change of attitude. It staggered her mind and stung her heart because she loved him. He doesn't want love, she reminded herself forcefully, just sex. She gulped in air in an effort to steady her heart and her head. Finally she trudged after him.

  She spent the rest of the day in abject misery, and not entirely because of the nasty weather. As morning turned into afternoon, she slowed down. Damp cold clawed into her despite her sweatshirt and jacket. Damien was relentless. Driven by some inner demon, he hounded her mercilessly.

  Sharp commands and barked orders, relentless drills or outright yelling that barely stopped short of verbal abuse, irritated her. As if the drill sergeant behavior was not monstrous enough, he alternated yelling at her with a fierce coldness that first puzzled then angered her. She stewed in her cloak of misery until fury finally got the better of her and she turned on him. He moved behind her, slid an arm around her neck, and tightened his hold.

  Incensed by his impersonal touch when her system had gone completely haywire, she slammed her elbow hard into his gut. The air burst from his lings in a harsh grunt, but he did not release her.

  "Damn it,” she muttered and grabbed his arm, just above the elbow. Shoving her hip into him, she flipped him hard on the ground. She stood over him, her feet planted firmly by his shoulders, and met his stony glare. Reluctant approval gleamed in his eyes.

  "Enough,” she declared through clenched teeth. “I've had enough of you."

  Drawing his gaze like a magnet, her chest heaved with each ragged breath she forced into her burning lungs. She deliberately ignored his focused stare, the flash of desire in his eyes, as she stepped over him and stormed back into the cabin. Slamming the door behind her with a loud crack of wood on wood, she relished her brief sense of savage satisfaction.

  "Mommy?” Stacy had her crayons and coloring books scattered across the table. She bit her lip, her eyes anxious. “Are you mad? Did I do something?"

  The ache started at the back of her neck, little pricks of tension that rapidly spread. She pressed her fingers into her temples, struggling for the calm that had become more difficult with each passing minute of the horrible day.

  "No, I'm not mad at you,” Laurie said as she crossed the room.

  "Damien?” Stacy demanded, as though she had to defend him.

  Laurie shot an involuntary glance out the window. Damien sat where she had left him, beneath the tree, and stared at the cabin. He was obviously stewing over something. Judging from his fierce scowl, his thoughts aggravated him. She drew in a deep breath and let the anger slowly fade. But she did not feel friendly toward him at the moment. He was leaving. Could she trust his replacement as she trusted Damien?

  The only sound during dinner was Stacy's hesitant, subdued chatter. Tension escalated, crackling between Laurie and Damien like the fire in the woodstove. It would only take a simple spark to ignite a conflagration. Thunder rumbled in the distance, echoing through the forested mountains.

  Laurie glanced up into Damien's speculative stare and swallowed hastily. Was the impending storm brewing outside the cabin as dangerous as the one simmering inside these wooden walls? Fierce hunger darkened his eyes as the storm darkened the sky. She lowered her gaze to her plate but squirmed under his intense perusal. Anticipation sizzled along every nerve in her body. Her appetite fled in favor of a more base hunger and she pushed her plate away.

  She sat back in the chair, crossed her arms over her breasts, and struggled to ignore the growing sensations spiraling through her body. It was almost impossible not to fidget, not to stare openly at him. Having been held by him, touched by him, kissed by him, it was ridiculously easy for her imagination to slip deeply sensual images into her head. Words of highly erotic descriptions charged through her mind as she surreptitiously studied him beneath her lashes. He frowned at his untouched plate.

/>   Was he worried about his mission? Or was he sulking that she had avoided personal disaster? It had been a very near thing. She had been so close to surrender, to letting him take her against that tree despite the weather. Those images sizzled in her head, scrambled her pulse, and shot desire into the stratosphere.

  He looked up, straight into her eyes. Her face flushed hot at being caught in her own erotically savage fantasies. His eyes went dark, almost black at what she knew he saw in her eyes. His gaze held hers. Unable to look away, she wondered again how their relationship might have progressed under different circumstances. With a wistful sigh and monumental effort, she banished those thoughts and her highly sensual fantasies. As much as she loved him, wishing was a useless endeavor.

  "Time for bed, Stacy,” she told her daughter and inwardly cursed the smoky, husky edge to her voice.

  Stacy gave her a quick peck on the cheek then ran to Damien. She threw her arms around his neck, taking him by surprise. He flinched but hugged her firmly. She planted a wet, noisy kiss on his cheek, said a cheerful good night, and dashed up the stairs.

  As she cleaned the kitchen, Laurie felt Damien's relentless stare bore into her skull. He tracked her every move until her neck prickled and blood roared in her ears. Nerves popped and sizzled under her skin until she wanted to scream or hide.

  "We need to talk.” It was totally unfair that he sounded so calm, so cool, when she was nothing but a writhing mass of nervy, edgy hunger. And it was entirely his fault!

  "After I finish,” she muttered, scrubbing the saucepan with fierce strokes that sloshed water over the edge of the sink.

  "Leave the damn dishes!” Damien suddenly shouted.

  The edge of frustration in his voice thrilled her. At least, she wasn't the only one suffering the agony of self-denial. His booted feet pounded the wooden floor as he stormed across the room. The stomping sounds were a balm to her nerves since he normally moved without sound. His fingers curled around her arm as he yanked her around to face him.

  She blinked, gulped, and stumbled back a step. Her heart pounded frantically at the ferocity of his dark eyes. He must have seen her apprehension because he swore viciously as he glared down at her. His hold loosened, though he did not release her.

  "Damn it, woman, I'm trying to keep you alive!” he snarled.

  Anger sliced through her fear. She wrapped her fingers around his thumb and jerked that thumb back. He winced and she slid his hand from her arm.

  "By manhandling me?” she snapped furiously and rubbed her arm for added emphasis. “Besides, doesn't that job fall to someone else now? You're leaving. Remember?"

  She turned from him, fixed her gaze out the window over the sink. Anger drained rapidly and she clutched the edge of the sink. She could not deny she already missed him though he had yet to leave. Just the knowledge of his departure clenched her heart and sparked fear for his life. But she refused to admit it to him.

  Damien let out a ragged breath behind her. His hands settled on her shoulders, tightened for a moment, then turned gentle and comforting. He stood so close his breath stirred her hair and warmed her ear. Goosebumps erupted on her skin as need tightened her gut into knots. The heat of him spread through her, fanning the already raging flames of desire. She closed her eyes in self-denial. She knew what he wanted and struggled to find the strength to refuse herself as well as him. Fighting her heart's treacherous inclinations, she moved away from him, her gaze riveted to the window.

  "Talk to me.” The accompanying crack of thunder nearly stopped her heart but neatly punctuated his quiet command.

  A single flash of lightening lit the clearing in stark black and white. Jolted, she curled her hands tightly around the edge of the counter.

  "I have nothing to say. You're leaving.” Putting that hard won but false calm in her voice cost her. All she wanted to do was cling to him and beg him to stay.

  With another crack of thunder and a jagged flare of lightening, the storm raged on top of them. Wind-driven rain beat the glass panes. Her reflection wavered. Wind howled through the trees and the clearing. Windows rattled in the insane power of the storm. Damien's arms slid around her. She flinched at the unexpected embrace, cringed at the heat that shot straight into her.

  "Shhh,” he murmured in her ear. “It's okay."

  The next explosion of thunder had her digging her fingers into his arms across her waist. Her head reeled. Thunderstorm—it was only a thunderstorm. Damien held her, sheltered her. The sudden bolt of lightening nearly blinded her. Abruptly, the room plunged into darkness.

  Stunned, she blinked rapidly trying to get back her sight. She heard the furious storm and her own frantic heartbeat. She wasn't blind. The storm had knocked out the generator.

  "Shit,” she muttered, berating herself. “Paranoid—it's only a storm."

  "Check on Stacy,” Damien suggested quietly in her ear as he reached past her to a drawer by the sink. “She might be scared. I'll check everything else."

  With a shaky breath of relief, she pulled away from him. He grabbed a flashlight from the drawer, switched it on, and handed it to her. Pathetically grateful for the distraction, Laurie took the battery-powered light and carefully picked her way up to the loft. In the glow of the flashlight, she saw that Stacy slept peacefully. The storm had not disturbed her in the least. Laurie pulled the blanket and the quilt to Stacy's shoulders, tucked her favorite stuffed dog into her loose embrace, and then sat on the edge of the twin bed. The storm outside drew her unwilling gaze to the dark window. Thunder cracked again and lightening split the night. In the resulting spooky dark, the storm seemed a portent of things to come.

  "Knock it off,” she ordered her wayward imagination. “Reign in your imagination.” Her voice was barely a whisper in the inky darkness.

  She left the bed, turned, and gaped at the soft flickering glow from downstairs. At the top of the stairs, she let her gaze roam. Flickering flames from candles on either side of the sofa bed softened the dark shroud of the storm. A single large kerosene lamp in the middle of the table threw more shadows into the eerie corners. Laurie turned off the flashlight. That harsh glare did not belong in all that soft light.

  Damien stood at the bottom of the stairs, his head tilted back slightly as he watched her. She descended, slowly, awestruck by the inadvertent ambience provided by the raging storm. He lifted his hand, held it out to her. She noted the bright gleam in his dark eyes. Candlelight, she wondered, entranced, or simply the man?

  She hesitated, staring into his eyes, then put her trembling hand in his. He tugged her toward him as she descended the last two steps. At the bottom of the stairs, she tried to pull free but his grip tightened. Peering up at him, the painful twinge across her neck and shoulders distracted her. She rubbed her hand across the back of her neck and shoulders in an effort to ease the aches.

  "Are you all right?” he asked, his voice gruff with concern.

  "Nothing a good night's sleep won't cure,” she said, breathless and sorely tempted by his close proximity.

  "Turn around,” he ordered quietly and his voice wrapped around her heart.

  This was not the man who had treated her like a clumsy recruit all day. She obeyed his quiet command and turned her back to him. Anticipating his touch, her breath caught in her throat. His hands settled on her shoulders, his fingers pressing firmly into muscle. His thumbs rotated over the base of her neck, slid to the base of her skull. His hands were lethal. She admired his skill.

  He swept those killer hands down her back, his thumbs and fingers pressing into flesh along her spine, then back up to her shoulders as he kneaded the aches from sore muscles. His touch did not scorch but warmed gently. Her nerves hummed. Her pulse sang in her ears. Blood turned sluggish in her veins.

  "I'm sorry I pushed you so hard,” he whispered, his breath making warm little puffs over her ear. “I wanted to make sure you had a chance to survive what's coming."

  His fingers, patient and firm, worked the tension from her ne
ck before sliding into her hair to massage her scalp. The very air thickened as he weaved a sensual spell around her.

  Could she resist him? Tonight, of all nights, did she even want to resist him? The savage storm heightened the tension, crackling with sexuality, around them. The romantic glow of the flickering flames softened the urgency.

  "I can't tell you what's going to happen,” he admitted, that deep husky tone sending tremors of need through her. “But I wanted to make sure you survive it."

  "What?” she muttered and lost herself in him, his touch, and his very presence.

  "Shhh.” He soothed minor aches with confident fingers then pulled her back against his chest. His arms slid around her and he simply held her close.

  Knowing she should move away, Laurie gave in to the rightness of his embrace and leaned on him, enveloped in a warm, hazy blanket of exquisite sensation. Her deep sigh of contentment was almost a purr. She turned her head slightly and his heart beat steadily in her ear.

  "I can't do this to you,” he muttered darkly in her hair. His arms tightened fractionally as he tensed behind her. “There's got to be another way."

  That stark ambiguous statement managed to penetrate the sensual fog around her brain. Puzzled, Laurie turned in his arms and peered into those dark glittering eyes.

  "Do what? What are you talking about?” The storm and the soft glow of the flames demanded she lower her voice so it was only a shaky whisper.

  He blinked, then looked down at her with what looked like surprise. His eyes went even darker with a flicker of something she had seen before but had yet to define.

  "I meant I can't just walk away from you—not like this.” He paused and let out a ragged, possibly frustrated, groan. “Damn it. I don't have time for this."

  Her inner danger alert clanged rudely in her head. She flinched and his arms tightened a little more.

  "Damien?” she said on a squeak of uncertainty.

  "I want you. You want me,” he stated without preamble.

  Struck momentarily speechless by that blunt statement, Laurie only gaped at him. Her jaw went slack. Her mouth dropped open. Her pulse spiked then raced. Her heart stopped then started again with a painful thud. She shook her head in automatic denial of what she knew to be true. Her unsteady gaze dropped to his chest and she tried to pull away but his embrace did not allow escape.