Christine Feehan - Wild Rain

She looked directly into his eyes, her fingers clutching at his arms. "They're here. He's sent them to kill me. I have to get out of here." She turned her head away from him to stare eerily into the corner. "They're over there."

Whatever she saw was real to her. She was so intent, it sent a chill shivering down his spine. "Look at me, Rachael." He framed her face with his hands, forced her attention back to him. "I'm not going to let anything hurt you. It's the fever. You see things because of the fever."

She blinked rapidly, her bright eyes beginning to focus on him. "I saw them."

"Saw who? Who wants to kill you?" He'd asked her a dozen times but she never answered him.

She tried to turn her head away from him and remain silent. This time he had her face in his hands, holding her still, locking her gaze to his.

"You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. Your eyelashes are long. Why do men always get beautiful eyelashes?"

She had a way of throwing him off balance, disturbing his tranquility. He found it so exasperating he wanted to shake her. "Do you know how stupid that sounds?" he demanded. "Look at me, woman. I have scars all over me. My nose has been broken twice. I look like a damned murderer, not some pretty boy." The minute the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Damned murderer hung in the air between them. His teeth snapped together and he turned his head away from her enormous eyes, swearing silently over and over.

"Rio?" Her voice was soft. "I can see the pain in your eyes. Did I do that? Did I hurt you in some way? I don't like hurting anyone, least of all you. What did I say?"

He raked his fingers through his shaggy hair. "Of course you have to be perfectly lucid right at this moment. Why is that, Rachael? Two seconds ago you were so far out of it you didn't know your own name."

He looked so tortured her heart turned over. "Did someone accuse you of murder?"

Her gaze moved over his face, examining every inch- all-seeing eyes. He was certain she could see into his soul. Fierce anger smoldered, held deep where it couldn't be seen, burst free, a raging holocaust he couldn't prevent. She should have been afraid. He was afraid. He knew what he could do with that kind of rage, but her expression was compassionate, almost loving. Her uninjured hand went to his face, fingertips trailing over his lips, sliding around his neck so that she was cradling his head, offering, what? He didn't know. Sympathy? Love? Her body? Tenderness?

He ignored his first impulse to slap her hand away from him. He couldn't take her looking at him like that. He caught her fingers instead, pulling her palm to his bare chest, over his wildly beating heart. "You don't know the first thing about me, Rachael. You shouldn't look at me like that." He didn't know what he felt, a mixture of anger and pain and ferocious longing. Damn it all, he was over that. Over wanting. Over needing.

"You don't make sense to me." His voice deepened, sounded almost ragged. "Nothing about you makes sense. Why aren't you afraid of me?"

She blinked. Those huge chocolate eyes, so dark they were nearly black, eyes a man could get lost in. "I am afraid of you."

"Now you're humoring me."

"No, really, I'm afraid of you." Her eyes widened in earnest honesty.

"Well, damn it all, why would you be afraid of me when I've taken care of you and given up my bed for you?"

"You didn't give up your bed. You still sleep in it," she pointed out.

"There isn't anywhere else to sleep," he said.

"There's the floor."

"You want me to sleep on the floor? Do you have any idea how uncomfortable the floor would be?"

"What a baby. I thought you were a he-man." She smirked at him. "Be careful of losing your bad-boy image."

"And what about insects and snakes?"

"Snakes?" She looked around her cautiously. "What kind of snakes? You have kitty cats for friends. I'm hoping you say friendly snakes."

His mouth softened but he kept from smiling with a small effort. "I haven't known too many friendly snakes."

"Where did your kitties come from? And how come they aren't trained to meet guests properly?"

"I trained them to run off the neighbors. I hate it when they drop in unannounced."

A lock of midnight black hair fell across his forehead. Without thinking, Rachael brushed it back with her fingertips. "You need someone to look after you." The moment the words were out of her mouth she was mortified. She couldn't seem to censor her tongue with him. Every random thought just popped out, no matter how personal.

"Are you applying for the job?" His voice was harsh again, emotions welling up to choke him. It was happening again, that strange time distortion. He felt her hand in his and looked down. His hand enveloped hers, the pads of his fingers rubbing back and forth over her soft skin and he knew every indentation. The very shape of her bones was familiar. There was even a memory of doing the same thing, of her teasing voice skittering down his spine like a caress.

Rachael closed her eyes, but he thought he saw the glimmer of tears before she turned her head away. "Tell me why those cats stay here all the time. They are wild, aren't they? Clouded leopards?"

Rio looked across the room to see the two cats tumbling around in a mock fight. Each weighed in at fifty pounds, so when they banged against a chair or table, they made a ruckus.

"Are they pets?"

"I don't keep pets," he said gruffly. "I found them. The mother had been killed and skinned. I backtracked her and found them. They were very young, still needing milk."

She turned her head back toward him, lifting her lashes so her gaze nearly devoured his face. The smile lighting up her pale face nearly took his breath away. "You bottle-fed them, didn't you?"

He shrugged, trying not to be affected by the way she was looking at him. There was that dazzling admiration, a look he didn't deserve. No one ever looked at him, saw him, in the same way she did. It was disconcerting, yet gave him a rush. He spent a great deal of time trying not to allow his body to react, or his heart. He dropped her hand as if it burned him, stepping away from the bed quickly.

She laughed at him, a soft inviting sound that felt like fingers playing over his skin. He was beginning to feel desperate. She lay in his bed, her body lush and tempting, her silky hair spilling around her head like a halo. He wished it were just the allure of her body. That would at least make sense to him. He hadn't been with a woman in a long time. Womanly curves, soft flesh, heat and the fragrance of the forest were a heady combination and he could be excused for his body's fierce reaction to her. But it was far more than that. Knowledge of her body. Memories of her laughter. Whispers in the night, a secret world they shared. His mind and heart reacted to her. And damn it, if he were a man who believed in such nonsense, he would think his soul recognized hers.

"Didn't you?" Rachael persisted. "You found some baby kittens and you brought them home and bottle-fed them."

"I don't believe in skinning animals," he said tersely.

She watched the dull red creep up his neck into his face. The man wasn't in the least embarrassed about traipsing around in the nude but he turned red admitting to an act of kindness. She found that blush endearing. "Why are you always running around with no clothes on? Did I stumble into a secret nudist colony? Or do you think I enjoy staring at you in the butt?"

"You do enjoy staring at me." Rio smiled in spite of himself. She was very open about her appreciation of his body.

Rachael answered him with her usual candor. "Well, I'll admit you're beautiful to look at, but it's beginning to make me uncomfortable. Why do you do it?"

His eyebrow shot up. "It makes it so much easier to shift into leopard form and go running in the forest."