No Fear

by Allie Harrison

Slowly she shook her head. “There is no way I can be out in the dark looking at stars,” she said. She had forced every word to remain strong and even, despite the way the thought made her insides shake.

  “Yes, there is,” he said. “I’ll be with you.”

  “No.”

  “You’ll be safe with me. I promise.”

  “No,” she said again. The hair on the back of her neck was standing up. Pain suddenly bit into her palms, and Emma realized that despite the fact that she held her arms crossed on her lap, she was clenching her fists and her nails dug into her palms.

  “I thought you said you trusted me.”

  Emma noticed the way his gaze never left hers, never wavered. He still swirled the wine in his glass. Then, still looking at her, he finished it off.

  “It isn’t that I don’t trust you. And it isn’t you that scares me about the dark,” she let out without thinking. Her own words made her blink. Why the hell did she admit that to him? Now he’d ask what it was about the dark that scared her.

  Much to her surprise, he didn’t ask. And from the casual way he watched her, she thought he already knew the answer.

  “I’ll hold your hand,” he said.

  Suddenly, she was bothered by the fact that he didn’t ask what frightened her. “You don’t understand,” she said. “There was a—” A what? A vampire? Emma couldn’t bring herself to say the word, even after all this time. That single word, despite how ridiculous it sounded, how utterly childish and stupid, still sent her heart racing, made her stomach clench painfully, and caused her legs to feel weak. “There was a man in the dark,” she said instead. “He—”

  “I won’t let him hurt you, Emma,” James said simply. “But you have to stop him from hurting you again, too.”

  “What?” His words made no sense. “He doesn’t.”

  James still took her in, his eyes like thunderclouds. “He keeps you from living your life to the fullest.”

  Emma swallowed hard, understanding his meaning. She avoided his eyes for the first time and stared down at her empty plate. “You don’t understand,” she said, her words barely more than a whisper.

  “In my job, Emma, I’ve seen—and helped—hundreds of victims. I think I do understand.”

  She might not be looking at him, but she knew he still watched her intently. She felt the heat of his gaze on her cheeks, spreading down her neck to her chest. “Is that what I am to you, just another victim on your long list?”

  “I’ve never invited one over for dinner or even allowed one in my house, so no, that isn’t what you are to me,” he replied. “Look at me.”

  It was impossible not to when he asked in that husky, deep voice. Slowly she raised her gaze to once again meet his.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked softly.

  She very much wanted to trust him. For that moment, she was glad the table separated him from her. If it hadn’t she thought she’d be the one to now touch him. The need to be close to him frightened her as much as the dark. She’d never before felt it. “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Then stay and take in the stars with me. We’ll have ice cream and wait for the dark together.”

  Again, she shook her head. “No ice cream,” she said. “I’m already feeling like I might lose the supper you cooked for us.” She took a long swallow of her wine. It burned going down, but didn’t totally relieve her of the lump in her throat. “James?”

  “Yes?”

  “What about afterward?” she asked.

  “Afterward?”

  Emma took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling stronger, although how, she had no idea. “All right, what if I look at the stars with you for, say, thirty seconds, perhaps even a full minute?” She felt strong enough to maybe do that, with James with her, especially if he held her hand like he said he would. “Then what?”

  James quirked a brow at her question. Then he licked his lips, and there was no doubt in Emma’s mind that he was thinking about their kiss. The simple touch of his lips still tingled on hers. It was impossible not to think about it when he licked his lips like that.

  Before he could say anything, she let out a heavy breath and went on. “I know it would take you ten minutes, perhaps longer, to take me home in the dark, and I’d have to walk from the car to the house. I’m not sure I can do all that,” she admitted. She could no longer control her breathing as she tightened her lips. Then she took the napkin she’d placed on her lap and tossed it to the table next to her plate.

  “You’re angry,” he pointed out. “Your voice gets higher when you’re angry.”

  It seemed he could read her like a book. That and the fact he mentioned her anger so casually caused her to suddenly boil. She met his gaze again in a flash. “Yes, I’m angry,” she let out, no longer caring what he thought about her emotions. She’d simply kept them tucked away for so long, she couldn’t hold them back any longer. “Very angry! I’m so mad at you I want to break something!”

  “Go ahead,” he said.

  The fact that he remained so utterly calm burned her further. “You don’t understand!” she shot back at him. It seemed now that she’d let loose of her emotions, she couldn’t control them at all. More than that, she didn’t want to control them.

  “Try me,” he said just as calmly.

  “I hate this. I hate what he did to me. I hate how he left me. No matter how much I work out or how strong I feel, I’m never strong enough to be in the dark. I’m never strong enough to fight off the nightmares. I’m not strong enough to ignore his voice that I still hear in my head!” She paused to take a much-needed breath. She looked at James, who quietly watched her with a cool expression and simply waited for her to continue. His patience, his mere lack of words, mixed with the poised ready-to-spring position she noted in him, told her that her reaction was exactly what he’d been after. It nearly caused her anger to double as it rolled through her like an out-of-control forest fire. “And I hate you for what you just did! How dare you! How dare you drag all this up!”

  “When you’ve managed to keep it buried for so long?” he finished, egging her on.

  Emma got up from the table so quickly, she nearly toppled the chair. James got up, too, his motion even quicker, but much smoother. He moved like a panther, precise and purposeful, almost flowing like liquid.

  “Go to hell,” she let out, turning toward the door. The approaching dusk was enough to nearly suck the breath from her lungs, but her anger sparked courage. She was too filled with rage to even think about the darkness.

  She could run home. She would run home.

  James caught her before she could turn the doorknob. His right hand closed around hers on the knob, his left went around her waist as he pulled her against him. She turned on him in an instant. If there was one thing she’d learned in the last five years, it was self-defense. Never again would anyone grab her, tie her up and hurt her, not without a fight. But James was ready for the fight. He pushed aside the left jab she threw at him. He slapped away the right she threw a moment later. Again and again, he slapped her away and slipped aside. Emma didn’t make contact with one fist, one foot, one knee or one elbow.

  Suddenly, he caught both her hands and pulled her against him, her back against his front, her hands crossed in front of her as he held her wrists, not tight enough to hurt, but tight enough to show her she couldn’t slip away from him easily. Her breathing was ragged, and for the first time, Emma realized her cheeks were wet with tears. Worse still, she was suddenly so exhausted she couldn’t stand, and she was forced to lean back against him. She let out a harsh laugh.

  “What?” he asked, still holding her.

  “I guess that proves I can’t defend myself at all. I didn’t even hit you once.”

  She felt the hardness of his chest with each breath she took in. “No, it just proves that I’m a little more experienced and have more training than you,” he replied. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you,”

  “How did you do that?�
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  “Do what?” he asked.

  “One moment, I thought I was fine. The next, I was so mad, I wanted to kill you. How do you manage to push me out of control so quickly?” she asked.

  He subtly tightened his grip on her. “I was tired of seeing all your bottled up emotions. I simply triggered a few so you could let them out. I also just wanted to help you deal with your fear. Feel better?” he asked.

  “Yes, but I still hate you,” she replied.

  James relished in the soft feel of her body against his. For so long he’d wanted nothing more than to have her in his arms, and he didn’t care what brought her here. He heard her heart beating, so strong, so wonderfully perfect. He felt her breasts against his arms as she took a breath, and he did his best to ignore the desire she awakened in him. She didn’t quite sound calm, but there was no more fight in her. She molded against him perfectly, her body matched to his, her warmth blending with his and creating unmistakable heat.

  Now was not the time for him to lean down and place his lips on her throat. Still, he grinned at the idea. It was a good thing she couldn’t see his face.

  He supposed that now was not the best time to tell her she was beautiful when she was mad, with her eyes alive with fire and emotion. James had no doubt that before her night of horror five years ago, that fire of emotion probably burned brightly in her eyes more often than not. He wanted to bring that fire back to her. But he had to take this slowly, one step at a time.

  So now, saying nothing, keeping his lips to himself, he let her go, but only far enough away that if her legs were still weak and unsteady, he could catch her if she needed him. But soon . . .

  Soon, he would taste more of her. Soon, he would feel more than the tenseness of her back pressed against him.

  Soon, she wouldn’t hate him.

  * * * *

  What just happened?

  Emma wasn’t sure.

  How had James so quickly managed to make her let loose of everything she’d cleverly learned to hold in? She had no idea. One thing she was certain about was that what must have been a hundred emotions had swirled through her like a wild tornado, leaving her weak and disoriented, and yet feeling lighter at the same time for having let them out. When James let her go, she had to fight for the strength to stay on her feet. And less then a minute ago, she’d wanted to bloody his nose or at least bust his lip. And yet, as suddenly as it had come, the anger was now gone, leaving something stronger, something perhaps even less controllable in its wake.

  Now she wanted to thank him for helping her let those soul-eating emotions out. Now she wanted back in his arms. She wanted to feel his lips on her body, everywhere. And she wanted to taste him, everywhere.

  Her knees were still weak, and she had to force each and every breath into her lungs.

  Why did she want James? How could wanting him, wanting to feel his arms around her, come so easily when every other man brought her fear and waking nightmares of five years ago? Why was she pulled to James so easily, despite her need to resist?

  She shouldn’t feel so eager to give in to the passion she felt in his arms, and yet she was. She shouldn’t want to feel his lips on hers or on her skin. She should slip out the door right now and make the dash to Doc’s house.

  And yet she didn’t reach a second time for the doorknob.

  Instead, she walked away, put some distance between her and James. Yet, the distance didn’t slow the desire she felt pulse through her veins with her blood. She worked to ignore the way she still felt his heat, still smelled the intoxicating, pinewood scent of him, still knew exactly where he was when he wasn’t standing next to her. She worked to fill her thoughts with something other than James as she looked around his house, trying to put things in perspective. The truth was, she didn’t want to leave. For the first time since she’d shared a house with her best friend, Marcy, James’s house felt like home. It was inviting. It was more than just a house where he slept. She thought all it needed was a pool and she would never want to leave it.

  What kind of man lives in a rustic, rebuilt log cabin complete with a loft? The original cabin was the great room and there was a room or another level added to each wall on three sides. That idea had appealed to her, even though until now she’d never stepped farther than the front porch.

  And after being inside, after eating at his table, she still thought of the place as rustic and rather homey for a man who lived alone. The kitchen and eating area were three steps higher than the great room and off the west wall. It was complete with a huge fireplace, a tile counter and cookware on a rack that hung from the ceiling. The great room was filled with comfortable furniture and bookshelves filled with books. There was a loft above the great room, the cabin part, where the bedrooms must be.

  Yes, Emma liked the house. Even as the darkness settled in, she felt safe within its walls. She stepped away from the door, easily letting go of any idea of leaving.

  She’d been angry when he refused to take her home before dark. Yet now, as darkness fell over the house like a soft blanket, it didn’t cause her heart to pound. She didn’t have the urge to rush from window to window and close all the curtains. Yes, the darkness did send her nerves quivering, but for the first time in five years, she felt safe.

  As she and James cleaned off the table and she helped with the dishes, she tried to study the house’s little details, learning about the man with her, trying not to think about the darkness that crept in like a silent snake. She liked the way he organized his cabinets, just enough to make it easy to find things. She liked the way the desk in his great room didn’t appear organized at all.

  “What are you thinking?” James asked.

  “I’m glad I came here,” she replied slowly. It was the truth. Her life had been put on hold for too long. This wasn’t easy, being out of her house with Doc as dusk settled around her like a thick fog. It was just as tough being with a man. She hadn’t allowed herself to be alone with anyone besides a patient and Doc for a long time, but now that she’d spent time with James, Emma was determined to free herself from her fears.

  She dried a plate and placed it with the others. “You never did tell me about afterwards.” She didn’t tell him, but she was beginning to feel cold. No matter how hard she worked to be brave, no matter how determined she tried to be, the dark always managed to suck her courage from her. She had to work not to shiver. And she ignored the tightness that gripped her chest.

  “Afterwards,” he paused, as if to give his words their full effect, “we can make a fire in the fireplace, drink more wine if you want, or have that ice cream if you’re up to it. I even have satellite TV, and you can have control of the remote.”

  He made it all sound so simple.

  “It’s not that easy,” she said. It also wasn’t so easy to look into his eyes right then. She stared at the two forks she dried as though she really had to concentrate on the job.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him shrug lightly. “It sounds relatively easy to me.”

  She let out a sigh. It might be easy to talk to him, but there was just no simple way to explain anything to him.

  “Okay, tell me what’s so hard about all this,” he said.

  He must have read her mind. “Well.” It was her turn to pause as she searched for the right words. “After we go out,” she paused again, working not to think about the dark and what might be lurking out there, getting ready to grab her and tie her up.

  “Yes?” he urged.

  “And then we come in and watch TV.” Emma had the sudden urge to giggle at that thought, since when she came in from the dark, she’d probably be throwing up or crying hysterically. “What then?”

  “Then you can sleep in my spare bedroom,” he said, as if it was nothing.

  “Oh,” was all she could think of to say. At least she didn’t have to worry about driving back to Doc’s in the dark.

  “See how easy it is,” he said.

  “Easy for you, maybe. What about
Doc?”

  He grinned at her easily. “Doc’s a big boy. He can take care of himself, and he knows you’re with me and he trusts me, remember?”

  “I remember.”

  But could she really trust him? She asked herself. Could she really trust him with all the terror of her past that might send her gasping for breath? Would he believe her? Would he laugh at her? She held the last plate for so long that it was dry before she wiped it.

  It was minutes later when she looked into his eyes. They were so smoky, they looked nearly silver.

  Emma’s mouth was suddenly dry, her heart racing and feeling as if it jumped in her chest. She didn’t feel herself move, but she was suddenly holding his hand. He laced his fingers through hers and held her tightly, letting her know he would never let her go.

  “How do you do that?” she asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Touch me without me knowing?”

  James fought the urge to laugh. He wanted to touch her all the time. And he definitely wanted her to know he touched her. So her words didn’t make sense. “I don’t understand.” He still held her hand. He understood completely. He had watched her for a long time and knew she didn’t allow anyone to touch her. He knew she even jumped if Doc bumped against her unexpectedly.

  “Never mind,” she said, not explaining it to him.

  “Is it all right if I touch you, if I take your hand?” He had to ask.

  The smile she offered him was small, hesitant, and uncertain. Then she said, “Yes, yes, it is. I like the way your hand feels.” Then she looked away from him, out the back door.

  Her fear touched his hand and moved right up his arm to his heart, like a hot spark. Her fear, any pain, any negative feeling that she felt was physical pain to him, and he wished he could just kiss her and wipe away all her fear and all the pain of her past. At least she was willing to let some of it go.

  “All you have to do is step out onto the deck with me,” he said.

  She tried to look brave, tried to not let him see the terror that coursed through her like a burning river. “It’s so dark. There’s no moon.”

  “I know.”