Christine Feehan - Predatory Game

The knife dropped from her hand and slid off the bed, but she rolled, ramming her elbow toward his jaw. He took the blow on his shoulder and caught her by the throat, slamming her down to the mattress.

Saber fought back, her eyes wild, haunted, his name on her lips. “Jesse!” She called for him again, the sound so filled with pain, so raw with terror, he felt actual tears stinging his eyes.

“For God’s sake, Saber, wake up. I’m here. I’m here.” He pinned her wrists, holding her down so she couldn’t continue the attack. “You’re having a nightmare. That’s all it is, just a bad dream.”

He knew the exact moment she became aware. Her body stilled, stiffened. Her gaze jumped to his face, examined every inch of his features, searching his expression for reassurance. He slowly released her and lay back beside her, turning so his body curled protectively around hers.

“Someone’s in the house, Jesse, I heard a noise.” She shuddered and leaned her burning forehead against the coolness of his.

“It was a nightmare, baby, nothing more.”

“No, someone’s in the house. Downstairs.” She clutched at his shoulders. “Lock my door. Is my door locked?”

He smoothed back her hair with gentle fingers. “No one can get in, you’re safe with me.”

“Turn on the light, we have to turn it on. No one will come in if the light’s on,” Saber insisted desperately.

“Shh.” He pulled her into his arms, burying her small, delicate face against his chest. She was trembling, burning hot against his skin. Tenderly he rocked her back and forth. “Nothing is wrong, Saber. I would never let anything happen to you.”

Her heart slammed hard against his chest, her pulse racing so frantically, Jess tightened his hold.

“It wasn’t a dream. I know I heard a noise, I know I did.” One hand curled into a fist, beating a tattoo against his shoulder. The other stroked the bulging line of his biceps in agitation.

There was something intensely intimate about the feel of her fingers tracing his muscles, despite the circumstances. His body stirred in response, painfully tight, urgently demanding. He ignored it, imposing the strict discipline that had kept him alive for years. He simply held her, rocking her gently, stroking her hair soothingly, not answering her wild imaginings.

It was some time before her body ceased trembling and she lay quietly in his arms.

Jess brushed a feather light kiss over her silky curls. “Feeling better?”

“I think I’m making a fool of myself,” she replied in a small voice.

“Never that, honey,” he murmured with gentle amusement. “You had a bad dream. Probably that rotten music you listen to.”

She nuzzled his chest, liking the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. “Country music is good music.”

“After the other night I decided I could get to like it. What in the world were you playing, anyway?”

“You don’t like rap?” Her laughter was muffled. “How did I know you wouldn’t like that particular group?”

He tugged a curl a little bit too hard in punishment, then rubbed the spot soothingly when she squealed. “Because I write number one hits all the time and not one of them has ever been rap.”

“Egotistical maniac,” she accused. “Not everyone has to listen to your music.”

“That’s true, baby, I don’t care if the entire world stops listening.” His lips brushed her hair again. “Except for you. Not only are you required to listen, but you’re required to like it.” He gave the order gruffly.

She laughed softly, relaxing against him. “So sing to me.”

There was a long silence. Jess cleared his throat. “Say, what?”

“Sing. You know. Ooh baby, baby, dum de dum. Sing.”

“I don’t sing, I write. Music and lyrics. Write, Saber. And I sell them to other artists. I work for the navy. I don’t have a band.”

“Why is that, Jess? You’re obviously independently wealthy, you have a reputation as a songwriter, yet you’re still in the military. You’re in a wheelchair.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“You know what I mean. Why are you still in?”

“Who said I was?”

“I’ve lived here ten months. I know you’re doing some kind of job for them. Or am I not supposed to know?”

“You’re not supposed to know.”

She settled deeper into his chest, looking up at him with humor in her eyes. “Fine then. I’ll be ignorant. Sing to me, Jesse. If I can’t have the light on, and we can’t discuss how utterly stupid it is for you to stay in the military, then you can at least sing.”

“Is this what I have to look forward to the rest of my life?” he asked, bunching her hair in his hands.

“A fate worse than death,” Saber agreed drowsily.

At least she hadn’t demanded to know what he meant. Jess mentally shook his head. He couldn’t afford any more mistakes like that. Saber didn’t stay in one place very long and lately she had become restless, looking over her shoulder. Was she getting ready to leave? She had said she wasn’t running anymore. He couldn’t take the chance of making her more nervous, because he damned well wasn’t going to let her go, and he was finding out every single one of her secrets whether she liked it or not.

“Jesse.” Saber sounded petulant.

He eased back against the pillows, Saber’s head on his chest. “A song, huh?” Jess sighed heavily. “You’re so high maintenance.”

“Quit stalling,” she murmured.

Jess closed his eyes and allowed the feel of her satin skin, the clean feminine scent of her to seep into him. He swallowed the lump in his throat and sang Saber her song. The one he wrote for her, the one that beat in his heart, his head, every time he looked at her or thought of her. A slow, dreamy ballad.

She moves like an artist, graceful and free

Like the paint on a canvas that flows easily

Oh, but those haunting eyes

They make me realize

The depths of my emotions stirring inside

She’s the woman I dream of

A child at play

Crusading for others, in her own special way

When I think that it’s over, it’s only begun

When I look in her eyes…

Oh, but those haunting eyes

They make me realize

The depths of my emotions stirring inside

Like the flight of the butterfly in gentle breeze

Her delicate features are so clear to see

She’s a woman, a warrior who never gives up

Oh, but my elusive butterfly

She makes me realize

The depths of my emotions stirring inside

Jess felt her tears on his chest as his voice faded. His hands tightened possessively, one in her hair, one around her waist. He didn’t need words, her tears were enough. Did she feel the deep emotions stirring in him? Did she realize he was baring his soul to her? He allowed her to hide, not wanting to push her when she was so vulnerable.

Saber drifted off into a fitful sleep. He waited until her breathing was slow and even before he reached over the side of the bed and found the knife. Very carefully he slid it by the tip into the small pouch on his chair. He could examine it in the morning, lift any prints, find out if anyone other than Saber had handled that military issue knife.

He held her most of the night, sometimes sleeping, more often than not simply lying awake, enjoying the feel of her in his arms. Her fever abated somewhere close to dawn, and regretfully, Jess eased himself from her side, knowing she wouldn’t be happy if she woke to find him in her bed, reminding her of her tears and their shared emotional night. She wouldn’t know how to handle it, and with her so close to running, he wasn’t about to take any chances.