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eyes. You seem like two people sometimes, he remarked. One brash and hot-tempered, the other
nervous and vulnerable.
We all have different sides to our personalities, I think. More coffee? she asked, for something to
say.
He nodded. His eyes were calculating, but she didn t notice until it was too late. As she reached for
his cup, he reached for her, and pulled her gently down onto his lap.
Nothing heavy, he promised, his voice deep and soft, like velvet. His big hand spread across her
cheek, holding her face so that he could see her black velvet eyes. They were huge in her beautiful
face, sad and apprehensive. Your brother will be home any minute, he reminded her.
Yes. But she worried about what could happen in the meantime. She put her hand on his broad chest,
and it encountered the thick hair where the shirt was open at his throat. She caught her breath and tried
to jerk her hand back.
He spread it into the opening, watching her face as he pressed her long, cold fingers into the thick
hair. She shivered a little at the feel of him, so intimate. There was warm, hard muscle under the hair.
His heart was beating heavily, like hers. She really should protest and get up.
But just as she thought about it, his thumb brushed over her full lower lip and teased it away from
the upper one. He felt her shiver.
It was obvious that she hadn t had a lover who knew what to do with her. He shouldn t be touching
her, of course. He was only going to make things worse.
While he was considering that, his head was bending. He brushed his open mouth over hers,
tenderly parting her lips. It was like that day in the pasture when he d pulled her off the horse,
terrified that she was going to kill herself. He hadn t been able to get her shy response out of his
mind. It haunted him.
He reminded himself that innocence could be faked. Ysera had taught him that.
His fingers stroked up and down her long throat, making her breath jerk, while his mouth gently
explored her soft lips.
He was damaged. So was she, in some sort of way. Perhaps the man she d taken away from her
mother had been rough with her. He scowled, remembering that she d sent a man to prison for being
intimate with her. It disturbed him.
He lifted his head and looked into her wide, fascinated eyes. His own narrowed as the heat began to
build in him. It had been a long time. Too long. He wanted her. He hated himself for it.
His big hand slid down over her breast and cupped it, teasing the nipple with a forefinger until it
went hard, and her body stiffened.
That was when he lost it. His mouth crushed down over hers in a fever of hunger. She tasted like
honey. Her body was warm and soft in his arms. He turned her, so that her breasts were crushed
against his shirt. He groaned, on fire to have her.
She wanted to protest. But the feel of his mouth on hers was drugging her. She clung to him,
whimpering softly as she felt her body begin to swell. She d never felt anything like this, never
wanted so much to have a man s mouth on hers, demanding and insistent. She wasn t even afraid. That
was a first.
He stood up, with her in his arms, and his eyes were flashing like blue lightning. He couldn t think
past relief. He could put her down on the sofa in the next room, smooth his aching body on top of
hers. He could jerk those tight jeans off and go into her, hard and fast, make her scream with pleasure.
Except that it was broad daylight, and he could see Ysera s face, mocking, laughing. He was a
weakling, she taunted while he died in her arms, a weakling who couldn t control his desire, who
looked ridiculous when his face went rigid, when his body corded over hers as he drove for
satisfaction...
He shuddered.
Sara saw nightmares in his pale eyes. She d been uneasy when he picked her up, afraid of what he
might intend. They were alone, and she wasn t really sure when Gabriel might come home. She d
never tried to be intimate with anyone. There were reasons why she might not be able to at all, and
one was very physical, a reason she was too shy to speak of, especially to a man like Wolf Patterson.
But her nervousness left her when she looked up into his eyes. He looked tormented. He smelled so
good, clean and manly, as if he d showered before he came here. He must have, because he picked up
the dog, and it had been covered in blood. His face was corded with anguish.
It s all right, she said softly. She lifted her hand and traced down his hard cheek. It s all right,
she whispered.
He shivered. His face clenched. Damn it! he bit off.
He put her down on the chair and walked out of the house. She heard the door slam. But she didn t
hear his car start up.
She didn t understand her own reactions to him. She felt such a kinship with him, as if they shared
secrets that they could never share with other people. She knew he wasn t going to leave. She wasn t
sure how she knew it, but she did.
Sure enough, a minute later he came back in. His hat was jerked low over his eyes. He looked ice-
cold.
He walked back into the kitchen and stood over her.
I don t need pity or compassion or anything else from you, he said coldly.
I know that, she replied gently. Her eyes were soft with compassion. She understood anger and
pain; she d lived with both for long enough to be intimate with them. Sit down. I poured more
coffee.
You knew I d be back? he drawled with biting sarcasm.
She drew in a long breath. Sometimes the most terrible part of being so damaged is not being able
to tell anybody, she said, her eyes on her own coffee cup. Even Gabriel doesn t know everything.
I...couldn t tell him.
He felt a kinship with her that had nothing to do with blood. He took off his hat, tossed it into a
vacant chair and straddled the one next to his coffee. He held the cup with his elbows resting on the
back of the chair. His eyes were brilliant with subdued pain.
How long did you know her? she asked, giving him an opening, if he wanted to talk.
He sipped coffee. For three years, on and off, he said quietly. She was going with another man
in my unit. But she threw him over for me. I was flattered at first. She was...extraordinarily beautiful.
She could play the piano, speak several languages, even sing. I d had women. But she was
sophisticated. She knew more than I did. I d never been with anyone who was so uninhibited.
It hurt her to hear that. She was shocked, but she managed to hide it.
At first, it was intoxicating, he said, not looking at her. I went in headfirst. She was all I could
think about. I fell in love. I was sure she felt the same way. She was always doing things for me,
giving me things, and in bed she was any man s most erotic dream. He drew in a slow breath. I d
never done it with the lights on, he said through his teeth. I had inhibitions. A couple of the foster
homes I lived in were deeply religious. They schooled me in things that a man never did. Sensual
pleasure was a sin. It belonged in marriage. So I thought that way. Ysera was a very guilty pleasure.
She searched his face. It grew harder as the memories washed him in misery.
She wanted to watch me come, she said. He glanced at Sara and had to stifle laughter at her
expression. Too blunt, Sara? he asked softly.
She swallowed. She flushed, but she shook her head. You can t talk about this to anybody else, can
you?
No, he said through his teeth.
It s all right, she said. I m not... I don t know a lot about that. But I can listen.
He wondered just how much she did know. She seemed honestly embarrassed, but he averted his
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