by Kay Hooper
“Come here,” he ordered, his eyes fierce.
Katrina came to the bed and sank down carefully on the edge as he caught her wrist and tugged. “You’ll start to bleed again if you keep moving,” she said worriedly.
He shook his head impatiently. “What the hell is all this about demons?” he demanded.
She couldn’t help but smile, realizing that he had no memory of what he’d said to her. Entirely typical, of course, that he didn’t remember harsh words. Fighting a surge of hope, she said, “It’s what you said that first day. That what you—what you felt for me was like a demon you couldn’t get rid of. I just hope you haven’t gotten rid of it, that’s all.”
He was still frowning, but his gaze held that hard, searching look. “Why?” he asked tersely.
Katrina drew a breath and answered, “Because I love you.” The sudden blazing ferocity in his eyes shook her, and she added unsteadily, “I know you can’t love me, but I’ll stay with you as long as you want me—”
The hand holding her wrist yanked her abruptly down to him and his arm was like iron around her. “I love you so much I’m insane with it,” he growled, locking his fingers in her hair to hold her firmly while he kissed her.
She had her hands braced on either side of him, aware, even in her bursting happiness, of his injuries and trying not to give in to the insistent pressure of his arm. It was hard to think at all, and even harder to speak when he finally let her draw back just a little.
“Skye, your ribs…your shoulder…”
He wasn’t listening. There was an expression on his lean, beautiful face she’d never seen before, and the light in his eyes was so bright it was like sunshine. “I thought I was going to lose you again,” he said thickly. “You kept hiding from me, and I was going crazy trying to hold on to you.”
She lifted one hand and touched his cheek, her heart catching when he turned his head to press his lips into her palm. “I—I thought it was just passion,” she whispered.
“You were the only one. Even Hagen knew the instant he saw me looking at you. Lord, Trina, I never stopped loving you. When I found you here, the only thing I could think of was to make sure I wouldn’t lose you again. I knew I could make you want me, and it seemed like the only hope I had.”
“I was afraid,” she confessed simply. “You—there’s so much intensity in you, so much force. And after that first day, I was convinced you were just trying to—to get rid of that demon.”
“I couldn’t have said that,” he protested.
“You did.”
He was smiling. “Maybe. Heaven knows I don’t know what I’m saying half the time around you. I knew I was pushing, but I couldn’t stop myself.”
“I noticed,” she said.
His smile took on a sensual heat and his hand slipped under the tail of her shirt to find the smooth skin of her back. “Can I help it if I can’t keep my hands off you?”
“Apparently not.” She kept her face straight with an effort, catching his hand and removing it firmly. “You should rest. It’s after midnight, and—”
“I don’t want to rest.”
Fighting to ignore the hungry glitter in his eyes, she said, “I won’t let you delay your recovery just because—”
“Tell me you love me,” he ordered.
Feeling herself weaken, she evaded his reaching hand and stood up. “I love you, Skye!” Hastily she bent to prevent him from flinging back the covers. “Dammit, you’re going to start bleeding again!”
“So what?” He was working his left arm out of the sling, ignoring the protest of his shoulder. “Just let me get rid of this damned thing—”
“No!” She caught both his hands tightly. “Skye, be reasonable. You’ve been hurt.”
“Nothing important was hurt,” he drawled.
Katrina couldn’t help but glance at his lower body, feeling heat rush through her at the clear evidence of his arousal, but she managed a glare at him when he chuckled.
“Climb in here with me,” he invited.
“I’ll sleep on the couch.”
An implacable determination flashed in his eyes. Softly he said, “Try that, sweetheart, and I’ll be on the couch with you. From now on you aren’t sleeping anywhere except with me.”
Wryly aware that Dane had been right when he’d said she might have to practice a bit before being able to stop Skye once he’d set his mind on doing something reckless, she sighed and tried a compromise. “If I stay here, will you promise to rest? If you don’t, I swear I’ll call Dr. Randall and have him give you a shot.”
“Him and what army?”
Katrina glared at him and waited.
Finally Skye said, “Hell. All right. I promise.”
Then minutes later, after prudently undressing in the bathroom and changing into an overlarge, button-up sleep shirt that was gaily striped in yellow and wasn’t very sexy, Katrina bent over Skye to remove the pillows propping him up and ease him back flat again.
Her shirt gaped away from her breasts as she bent over him, and Skye half closed his eyes and groaned softly. “Let me take back the promise.” His right hand was already reaching for her when she straightened abruptly.
She stared down at him. “What am I going to do with you?”
He was quite willing to tell her, but he had a feeling she’d sleep on the couch if he did. And, stubborn words aside, he knew damned well he’d fall flat on his face if he tried to get out of the bed. He also knew that he couldn’t make love to her yet, no matter how badly he wanted to and no matter how much the throbbing fullness of his loins insisted.
He decided he’d better heal fast.
“Just let me hold you,” he said finally.
Her eyes softened with that warm, steady glow that had baffled him earlier. She turned off the lamp on the nightstand on his side of the bed, then went around and cautiously slipped beneath the covers on his right. The moment she turned off the lamp on that nightstand, he reached out and pulled her firmly against his side.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered.
Skye cradled her close, drawing her head down to rest on his uninjured shoulder and smoothing her wild, silky curls. “You aren’t,” he told her gently, ignoring the pain. He had never felt any pain so strong that it would have kept him from holding her, and he doubted he ever would.
Within minutes she was asleep, curled up beside him boneless as a cat. She was exhausted, he knew, worn out from watching over him all those hours. Skye held her close and stared into the darkness for a long time, remembering how everything inside him had splintered when she had told him she loved him. He still felt that way, shaken and stunned, hardly daring to believe that he wouldn’t lose her again.
For six years she had never been out of his mind, and no matter how may times he had told himself savagely to forget her, just a glimpse of wild, curling red hair had had the power to stop his heart. He hadn’t told her, but he had returned to Germany three times during the last years, ignoring Daniel Stuart’s warnings that it could be dangerous. He had gone back and searched for her, returning always to the apartment where someone else lived and tearing himself to pieces because he couldn’t find her.
His arm tightened around her as he remembered that pain, but the last echoes faded away as she mumbled in her sleep and cuddled close.
He had found her now, and he’d never let her go.
—
Skye woke early in the morning, feeling much stronger than he had the night before. Katrina was still deeply asleep, missing the dawn for the first time since they’d been together again. He shifted experimentally and winced when both his shoulder and his ribs protested. But he was determined that Katrina wouldn’t have to wait on him hand and foot for the next few days and, besides, there were some things a man preferred to do for himself.
So he clamped his teeth together hard and carefully moved his arm from around Katrina so he could sit up. His head swam dizzily for a few moments, and his ribs gave him merr
y hell, especially when he swung his legs off the bed. He felt her stir behind him, but then she sighed and went still again.
When the room stopped spinning, he used his good arm to lever himself up and onto his feet. And if he hadn’t taken a hasty step and grabbed the back of the high-backed visitor’s chair, he would have fallen flat on his face. Damn! He was as weak as a sick cat, and every muscle was so sore, it felt as if someone had been beating him with a stick. A cold sweat popped out all over him, and he had to use the support of the chair for long minutes with his eyes closed.
He was finally able to move, then worked his way cautiously along the wall to the bathroom door. Making it, he eased inside and pushed the door softly closed. There were plenty of things to hold on to in there, and he was grateful. But he had a hell of a time shaving because he needed his good hand and couldn’t use the other to brace himself.
Idly he decided that Katrina was going to be mad as hell. But that was all right. Now that he knew she loved him, he wouldn’t mind when she got mad at him. And she was bound to from time to time. He thought there would probably be some glorious fight between them because he had a thoughtless temper and that red hair of hers wasn’t at all as deceptive as he’d once believed.
She was just stirring awake as he braced himself in the doorway of the bathroom, and her lovely eyes blinked at him sleepily when she sat up. Then, suddenly, she was fully awake. Amber fire lit her eyes and she flung back the covers.
Her sleep shirt had ridden up to the tops of her thighs, and he felt his weakened body harden with an instant surge of desire. A primal sound he was unaware of making rumbled up from the depths of his chest as she reached him, and he forgot to brace himself because his good hand was sliding down her side to shape firm, rounded flesh.
“What are you doing?” she gasped, slipping her shoulder under his good arm for support.
“Lord, you feel good,” he muttered.
Muttering herself, Katrina removed his hand from her bottom and placed it firmly on her shoulder. “You have to get back into bed,” she told him, her arms around him as she tried to brace him without hurting him.
Skye knew he’d been on his feet too long, and cursed his trembling muscles as he let her help him. He told himself he still lacked the strength to be a lover, but the reminder did nothing to reduce his aching need for her. He loved her, and he wanted to hear her say she loved him while she was writhing in his arms, while passion exploded in them both….
“You shaved!” she accused him.
The prosaic exclamation drove the heated images from his mind, and Skye settled back onto his pillows with the ghost of a laugh. Looking at her as she bent to pull the covers over him, he couldn’t resist saying, “I said I’d be on my feet today.”
“And I said I’d shoot you!” she snapped.
He didn’t mind her temper, but he didn’t like her to be worried about him. “Sweetheart, I know what I’m doing. If I stayed here for a week, I’d be useless for another one. I’ve been through this before, and—” He broke off, sorry that he’d said that.
She sank down on the edge of the bed, staring at him. Her bottom lip quivered suddenly. “You don’t have any scars,” she whispered.
He took her hand and carried it to his lips briefly. “No. I don’t scar. In a few months you won’t be able to find any sign of this wound either.” Trying to get her mind off past injuries, he went on. “I won’t do too much, I promise. I’ll get plenty of rest. But I have to get up and move around some.”
Katrina could feel her resolve weakening. Half angrily she said, “I’m going to call Dr. Randall and see what he says.”
“Fine,” Skye returned promptly.
She was a little suspicious of his quick agreement, but when the doctor examined Skye a couple of hours later, he confirmed what Skye had said.
“Well, you’re healing faster than I expected,” he told Skye dryly. “If you feel well enough to be up and about, go ahead. Just take it slow.”
Katrina stared at him reproachfully, and Skye held one hand over his bound ribs while he laughed at her.
Later in the day Dane told her that he’d expected it. “Once he’s conscious,” he told her, “Skye heals fast. And he’s too impatient to stay in bed. If he broke every bone in his body and they put him in a cast head to toe, he’d probably wear roller skates to get around.”
Skye, who was sitting on the couch in the den wearing only a pair of sweatpants, grinned at her. Katrina mentally threw up her hands in surrender, but irritably told Dane, “You’re a lot of help!”
“Sorry.” He smiled at her. Without his mustache, and dressed in the casual dark clothing Skye usually wore, he was the image of his brother. He had even imperceptibly altered his way of moving, and his normally lazy drawl held the more clipped and rapid cadence of Skye’s speech.
Katrina had observed those last traits when she had earlier gone to give Gigi a progress report on Skye. Dane had been there with Hagen, and Katrina had made a plausible excuse to draw her friend out of the office. She couldn’t have very well told Gigi about Skye’s recovery when Hagen had believed the man to be standing right beside him.
“You’ll probably be having other visitors today,” Dane told his brother now, not without a certain enjoyment. “Everybody wants to come and swear at you. I told them you were up to it.”
“Thanks,” Skye said dryly.
Others did come, all of them at some time or other during the day. And if they didn’t swear at Skye, they nonetheless made it clear that the next time he was involved in a team effort and decided to play the Lone Ranger, there would be an abundance of people standing in line to express their displeasure.
Meekness was hardly one of Skye’s character traits, but by the end of the day he was a bit subdued. Not because of what he’d done, of course, but by the reactions to it. He had never been much of a team player; his professional partnership with Dane stretched back over ten years, but that was far more a blood bond than one of collaboration. He was unaccustomed to people worrying about him, and more than a little surprised by it.
“I hope you aren’t going to yell at me,” he told Katrina with some feeling that night.
“They didn’t yell.” She was standing by the dresser brushing her hair, and sent him an amused look over her shoulder. “But whether you like it or not, they care about you. All of them. And they were right.”
Skye had spent the day very determinedly gaining strength, and as he watched her now he felt familiar stirrings. He forgot about people yelling at him. “Trina,” he said.
She looked at him again, this time with instant awareness and a certain amount of helplessness. Her knees felt weak all of a sudden, and she was hardly aware of putting the brush down and turning toward the bed. “You need to rest,” she protested.
“I need you,” he said, and the stark truth of that made his voice ragged.
Katrina came to the bed slowly, her heart pounding. She felt hot and weak, and already conscious of the throbbing emptiness only he could fill. Skye threw the covers back as she reached him, then pulled her down on the bed beside him.
She gasped. “Your ribs.”
“To hell with my ribs.” He was unbuttoning her sleep shirt with the fingers of one hand, but it wasn’t quick enough for him, and he pulled his left arm from the sling so he could use that hand as well. Katrina moaned a wordless protest, but when she met his eyes and saw the fiery hunger there, she stopped trying to make him remember his injuries. That look told her plainly that he didn’t give a damn whether he hurt himself, because he wanted her right that minute and he wasn’t going to wait. She had seen enough of his relentless will by now to know when to stop fighting it.
She helped him get rid of the sleep shirt, and when his hot, hard hands surrounded her breasts she almost cried out with pleasure. Her body was so attuned to him, so responsive to his urgency, she was instantly out of control. But some final shred of reason made her try to keep him from moving any more than necess
ary. And it was a new pleasure to love him as he had so often loved her, to touch and kiss his powerful body with a hunger of her own until he groaned and shuddered.
Skye endured the sweet torment of her touch for as long as he could, but his control quickly shattered, and he lifted her bodily above him, a half-wild cry tearing from his throat. She settled over him with a lithe grace, her cat’s eyes gleaming down at him, and when her tight heat surrounded him, he thought he’d go out of his mind with the searing pleasure of it.
“Tell me,” he ordered in a voice that was almost gone, his hard hands on her hips guiding her slow movements.
“I love you,” she said huskily, staring into his narrowed, fiercely intent eyes. The tension coiling inside her was an agony of suspension, and she almost moaned out the words again and again, whimpering when he quickened the pace and surged beneath her with no awareness of his injuries or any consciousness of pain except the pain of hot desire.
And, as always, there was no slow ascent for either of them, but rather a swift, relentless, shattering climb that hurled them wildly over the brink. She collapsed on his chest with a wordless cry, feeling him shudder and hold her hard as a guttural groan was wrenched from him.
Katrina couldn’t move for a long time; even the awareness of his bandages beneath her cheek and a niggling worry about his injuries lacked the power to make her move.
“I love you, Trina,” he said.
She lifted her head and looked at him, and the love glowing in his eyes nearly stopped her heart. “I love you too,” she whispered, shifting just far enough so she could kiss him. Then, worried, she said, “Your ribs—”
Arms tightening around her, Skye said, “To hell with my ribs.”
Chapter 9
Raven opened the door to let Dane into the suite, then led the way into the sitting room where Josh was just hanging up the phone. Looking at their visitor, Josh said, “Everything set for tomorrow morning?”
