Abduction (35 page)

"I'm sorry."

She sat up, backed up.

"I didn't mean to…I'm sorry."

What had she been thinking? Could she be any dumber? Any more of a stupid child?

"Devan…"

She wanted to run away, she was so embarrassed. And she was almost up. But the sound of his voice, her name, slowed her flight.

"Dev."

She forced herself to meet his eyes. He was giving her the warmest look, the gentlest smile imaginable.

"It's all right."

His soft voice had the faintest warble of laughter, and it soothed her instantly.

Then it died, that little laughing lilt, and he sounded suddenly concerned.

"I didn't…you're not afraid? Of me?

"No. No no." The last thing she'd meant was to make him feel guilty, worried she was still afraid of him.

"All right," he smiled, seemingly instantly reassured. "Come here."

He sat up, put out his hand, and she put hers in it, still blushing.

"I'm sorry," she said again, close to tears for some unknown reason.

"For what?"

He asked so gently she felt almost as though she could say anything to him. And yet, somehow, she couldn't speak.

"I didn't mean to…" was all she could manage.

"Get me aroused?"

She nodded.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Dev."

"It's just…I didn't realize, didn't think…touching you that way…but I'm not ready…"

"I know you're not, Dev. Don't worry. I'm happy, more than happy, holding you, holding your hand, kissing a little now and then. I don't expect, need anything from you.

And I swear, I don't want anything you're not ready for. All right?"

"All right."

"Now, can I be blunt for a moment?"

She looked at him shyly.

"You can do anything, Dev. Anything. Kiss me, touch me. Strip me naked, whatever. And if you say 'enough,' we stop. No matter what. And nothing for you to feel bad, or guilty about. Believe it or not, I actually have reasonable control over my libido.

But, I can't help…getting aroused." He smiled, laughed softly. "If you want to know the truth, that's probably happened about fifteen different times today."

"I just feel bad. This must all seem really juvenile to you. My frigid virgin routine."

"Devan, I'd rather be here, with you, than anywhere else, doing anything with anyone. I can't even remember the last time I was in a position to say that to somebody."

So, so slow she emerged from sleep to the feel of his body warm and close against her, his hand curved to her belly, his breath faintly stirring the hair at the back of her head. Such a feeling of sweet happiness rose in her it was hard to be still. She felt buoyant, expansive, as if the molecules making up her body were inevitably about to rise into the air and blow blissfully apart. Hurriedly, without allowing a real thought to breach her consciousness, she pushed away the certainty that it was only for a few more days, that whatever this was between them, it couldn't survive outside this secluded cabin, could not be transferred intact to the reality of her life and his in Seattle.

Everything was here. Now. Nothing else existed.

She needed to pee. Wanted to brush her teeth and smooth down any flyaways, then slip back under the blanket with him. Carefully, trying not to wake him, she slipped out from under his arm, but didn't get far. His arm re-captured her, pulled her back to him. When she rolled over to face him he was smiling, gazing lucidly at her like he'd been awake for a while.

In a voice just above a whisper he said, "I've been waiting for you to wake up.

You can't just sneak off, now."

Their faces just inches apart they lay there in the early afternoon light, looking at one another. His pewter irises were maybe the most beautiful color she'd ever seen, seeming brighter in their frame of black lashes. Everything about his face was strong—

his heavy but strikingly arched eyebrows, his straight but prominent nose, his wide but beautifully shaped mouth, his angular jaw. Yet he seemed soft to her now, his skin smooth and pale, his expression so warm, his body lax.

His gaze seemed to reflect hers, his eyes tracing her features, his fingers gently taking the same path, combing a stray strand of her hair back, tracing the curve of her ear, her jaw, her lips, her nose, her brow. Then his lips brushed over all those same places. Finally he came back to her mouth. In three warm, slow kisses he took her top lip, first at the left corner, then the right, then the full center, only then making her lips part just slightly. Then her lower lip, one, two, three. His kisses were so sweet, so soft, they somehow made her feel a strange melancholy. She didn't think he…loved her. But when he looked at her that way, when he kissed her like that, she felt loved.

"I like waking up with you."

"Me too." Her quiet reply faintly rasped with sleep.

Would the dear girl never finish in the shower? He smiled at the thought that his darling Devan might be in there this very moment, thinking her deliciously wicked thoughts, possibly even touching herself. Thinking of him, perhaps. Or the other. Or both of them. He smiled despite his impatience.

At last the sound of the water shutting off, the metal rings singing over the rod. It would only be a moment, now, and she'd be there before him. Then in his arms.

Ah…there. The door. The sound of her bare feet padding down the hall, toward him. He waited until she was nearly in the living room, then stepped from the shadows.

"Hello, Devan."

Poor thing, that look on her face.

"Conrad." Her voice was ash.

How quickly her face had gone white as flour, already those dark, sad eyes of hers sheathed in tears. Just staring. In shock. She had only to turn to her left. Yes, yes.

There he is, darling. He almost regretted cuffing Goliath to the door like that, she looked so thoroughly terrified.

"Please, Conrad."

Fuck's sake, he'd never heard that desperate tone in her voice before. Not even when he'd first caught her. Her tears were fairly familiar by now, but that look on her face…

"Please. Please don't hurt him."

"Devan." He used his kindest voice, gave her his most soothing smile. This was no time for toying with the girl. "I'd never harm anything, anyone you cared for. I assure you, he's fine. A tad groggy, perhaps, but unhurt."

Actually, her woodsman didn't look at all groggy, despite the double dose of tranquilizers. Of course it was impossible, but it was hard not to suspect he might be about the wrench the iron screws right out of the wood and…what? Crush every bone in his body. Then eat him, perhaps. Much nicer to look at, think about her.

"Come here, Devan."

She was apparently in no great hurry to tear her gaze away from Polyphemus there, and, it seemed, even less enthusiastic about a reunion cuddle. But of course she was afraid, and so she'd do what he told her. Like a virgin to the sacrificial altar she floated toward him, already a ghost.

But warm, oh, so warm and soft in his arms. Even her damp hair, warm to his lips. Not for one moment after she'd fled had he allowed himself to think that anything had happened to her in the woods. He'd known, all along, with an essential, desperate certainty, that he'd find her, and find her safe and well. But now that he was holding her, feeling her, smelling her, the horror of the possibility of harm befalling her caught Conrad in a sudden, painful hold. He shook it right off, though. It wouldn't do, going all gushy just now, particularly not in front of that one straining every tendon in his body to break out of his cuffs so he could snatch Devan from the arms of her wicked kidnapper.

"Vaughn, isn't it?"

He let Devan go and turned with an amused grin toward the panting lumberjack.

"Don't strain yourself just yet. I'm sure a more opportune moment for murdering me will come in the not too distant future."

Turning back toward Devan he observed the most interesting thing. She'd stopped crying, her body was no longer rigid and trembling. Except that her eyes were still red and her skin pale, she very nearly appeared serene. He allowed himself a small smile of amusement.

"Conrad," she said softly, the tremor nearly gone from her voice, an effortful smile slightly curving the corners of her pretty mouth, "please. I'll go with you." She moved a little so her warm body pressed slightly against his. "I want to. Untie him, let him go, and I'll go with you. Do anything, everything you want."

Any lesser man would find her offer most tempting, her sweet face tilted up to him in supplication, her body close and promising to yield to his every touch, to his mouth, to his body. But it would not do. Her calmly, resignedly giving herself to him back at his cabin, or in the woods somewhere, with calm melancholy.

He smiled down at her, then pulled her to him. He loved the way her body always quivered slightly when he put his lips by her ear and softly whispered his dark promises.

Loved knowing the other things that happened to her body in those moments.

"Yes, Devan. You will do everything I want. But let's have our fun here. It would be a pity to leave Vaughn out."

He held her away from him then, to look her over. Even buried in the folds of Vaughn's huge sweats she looked adorable, but really it wasn't the look he had in mind for the evening's festivities. He turned and retrieved from his pack a tiny white bundle, and offered it to her. Stoically, she took it from him.

“I want you to go back into the bathroom and put this on. You have exactly ninety seconds. Go.”

He couldn't have her messing about in there, looking for razor blades and such.

He glanced down at his wristwatch and she spun round and charged back toward the bathroom. The door slammed shut before five seconds had ticked by.

This Vaughn was an odd one. No vain threats of brutal retaliation. No pointless pleading. No name calling. It was quite possible, in fact, that he was thinking. This was going to be fun. Just wait…when he sees Devan in this outfit …

Devan emerged, her face gorgeous, flushed with embarrassment. She'd almost grown used to wearing such things around him—though not quite this revealing—but before Vaughn, who was used to seeing her in layers of baggy cotton, her modesty was ripe for fresh violation. She halted in the hallway, still out of Vaughn's view, her fingers fidgeting absently near her waist.

"Come in here, Devan, so we can have a look at you."

Reluctantly, obediently she came forward, her eyes locked on Conrad, perhaps in a desperate wish to avoid the other's eyes. But Conrad looked, and Vaughn was looking. Blushing almost as pink as she. What a character, this one.

She was a sight, though. A filmy beige, her little garment was strapless. One band of lacy elastic circled above her breasts, and second below them. Between the elastic bands was the most transparent of fabrics, encircling her in loose gathers that did not distort the shape of her breasts, but left them unrestrained and almost completely visible, down to their inviting, creamy hue, and the alluring darkness of her plum colored nipples. The same shear fabric draped loosely from the bottom band, the 319

hem just reaching the very tops of her thighs. And no panties. Could Vaughn tell? Just knowing, himself, drove him mad.

“You look just lovely, my dear, as always,” Conrad whispered to her reassuringly, loud enough for Vaughn to hear.

Conrad gestured and she went to him, let him pull her to him, her back pressed against him as his arm folded over her chest, his hand curving possessively over her shoulder as they faced Vaughn. Conrad put his lips to her ear as he looked up from beneath his brow at Vaughn. The mandibles of the goliath flexed.

“Now, my darling, tell me. Has he fucked you yet?”

He felt her body stiffen a little, felt her quivering deliciously against him. It took her a long while to answer, and he savored his anticipation.

“No.”

It really did seem as if he always got what he wanted. My, my. Was it his smile that was making Vaughn look suddenly as if he might be sick?

“I’m pleased to hear it. And I think now might be the perfect moment for us to take our leave of you, Vaughn. Devan and I have a bit of catching up to do, and need our privacy. I hope you won’t be too uncomfortable. We shouldn’t be more than an hour or so.”

With that Conrad turned Devan toward the hall, into Vaughn's room, leaving poor Vaughn to watch in helpless horror until Conrad closed the door.

From the moment he had tracked her down, found that she was living in this little cabin with a man, and seen that they cared for one another, a new, delicious plan had taken shape in Conrad's mind. But before he could implement it, he needed information.

Before he set about the task at hand, though, he had to hold her, really hold her, now that they were safely hidden from Vaughn’s judging eyes. Not that he minded an audience for most things, but Conrad knew better than to show any weakness, even his deep, tender affection for Devan, in front of a man who was most likely waiting for his chance to kill him. And so it was only now, behind that closed door, that he put an end to the little show of possession he had been putting on for Vaughn, and gave himself up to her sweet presence.

She stood there, trembling, waiting to see what he would do. She saw the change come over him as hardness and humor slipped away, as his face softened, as his body slacked from disciplined rigidity to a slightly trembling seeking. He reached slowly out, waiting before trying really to touch her to be sure she would not leap back in fear, and gently caressed her cheek. Then, again very slowly, very gently, he moved nearer and took her in his arms.

She submitted to his embrace without returning it. She felt it already. His power over her. Terrified as she was to imagine what would happen with the three of them, she felt that her hate of him was softening and melting away, felt her body reacting to his voice, his touch, the way he looked at her, the feel of his body against hers. She caught herself thinking—a half-conscious thought that was close to a wordless feeling—