Holdin' On for a Hero (14 page)

Later, when he’d ended up with Chance and her family, Wyatt had introduced her to the Wolf Tales and had explained about his mixed heritage and the origin of his name.  She’d teased him ever since by calling him the Big Bad Wolf.

Wyatt pulled himself back to the moment  and gave her a slight nod. “Well, you remember the one about the children of Star Woman? How one was Brother of Light Face and the other was Brother of Dark Face?”

“It’s only a legend,” he said.

“But what if it’s not?” she asked then paused to consider her words before speaking. “What if that’s what happened to you? What if your spirit joined with the spirit of another, some opposite being—different from you in every way? Negative to your positive, evil to your good? Maybe a spirit that remembered the bloodshed and wars your people endured? What if that’s what happens to you when you’re in danger or trying to protect someone? What if that spirit becomes dominant and that’s why you can’t remember?”

Wyatt shook his head. “Chance, that’s crazy.”

“Is it?” She raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think so.”

“Why?” He turned and put his hands on her shoulders. “Why would you want to believe something like that? Why can’t you just accept that there’s something wrong with me? That I’m violently insane.”

“I can’t—I won’t believe that,” she argued. “You might be hard inside and even capable of causing pain, but you’re not insane and you’re not a cold-blooded killer.”

“Hard? Capable of causing pain? I guess you mean to you.”

“Yes.” She met his eyes. “All these years since…well, since the baby…every time I saw you, you acted like you could barely stand to be in the same room with me. You brought those women around and rubbed it in my face that you were with them. It hurt, Wyatt.”

“I was hurt, too,” he said defensively. “As far as I knew you had killed my child—acted like all the rich white people I’d ever known. Used me then moved on to something better.”

Chance’s eyes flashed and her face flushed as her anger rose. “You really piss me off sometimes!”

Wyatt looked at her with his mouth hanging open in surprise, and she socked him in the chest with her fist. “You know me better than that, dammit! You knew, you’ve always known that I love you. You couldn’t possibly have believed that I’d do something like that.”

“That’s what I thought!” he argued in a rising tone. “Cheryl told me—”

“Cheryl? God, how stupid could you be, believing her? For Christ’s sake, she and Patricia were thick as thieves! Or were you so dammed dense that you thought Cheryl had found the money for your little wedding trip lying on the sidewalk? Oh, don’t look so shocked. I heard Adeola and Beda talking about how Patricia and Maurice had given you and Cheryl ten thousand dollars for some lavish honeymoon.”

“What? She told me her grandparents gave her the money.”

“Well then, you’re a bigger fool that I thought.” Chance pushed him. “Anyone who would believe that, I’d like to talk to about some swampland I own.”

Wyatt’s eyes narrowed. “Can we change the subject?”

She snorted and tossed her hair. “Why? Does the truth hurt?”

“Chance, just drop it.” His voice was tight and she could tell he was beginning to get angry. But at that moment she didn’t care. Everything was crashing in on her at once and she felt like she was going to explode.

“No, let’s not!” she snapped. “I’m tired of being treated like some old rug you can walk on and not give it a second thought. You have no idea what I’ve felt, do you? How it’s been to go through life loving someone so much that you hurt inside and having him treat you as if you were nothing. So do me one gigantic favor and don’t give me any more of your pathetic excuses or arrogant orders. If you don’t care about me then just have the balls to say it and we’ll wish each other well and go our separate ways. But at least be man enough to—”

“Shut up!” he barked.

“You shut up!” She drew back and hit him in the jaw.

Wyatt grabbed her fist as she started to hit him again. “That’s enough!”

“Let go of me!” she shouted and tried to free her hand. But he would not release her. In fact, he grabbed her other hand and held both of them immobile.

Chance screamed and kicked at him. Wyatt stayed out of range and moved in as she readjusted to get more leverage. He shoved her backward, sat on her stomach and pinned her hands together over her head. “Dammit, Chance, stop!”

She struggled until she realized she was not going to get away then stilled. Her eyes were flashing as she looked up at him. His eyes were dark as night and his jaw was clenched. Chance took in his appearance, the powerful muscles of his arms and chest and the smooth dark skin dusted with even darker hair that traced a path down his body to disappear into the top of his jeans.

She looked up at his face, seeing the beauty and strength, the long ebony hair framing it like a dark halo. Anger disappeared and in its place were feelings that terrified her. She had never felt about a man the way she felt about Wyatt. Everything about him excited her and she wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything.

“Wyatt, get away from me,” she whispered urgently, afraid of her own feelings.

“What? Get away from you? What’s this? One minute you think I’m the reincarnated savior of the people, the next you want to kill me and now you want me to get away? What is it? Afraid?”

“Not of you,” she admitted softly, lowering her eyes.

“Then what?”

Chance was silent for a little while, trying to gather her courage. At last she looked up at him. “I’m afraid of how I feel about you. If you don’t move away from me I’m afraid I’ll do something that’ll make you push me away and I don’t know if I can take that. Not again.”

Wyatt didn’t move, and anger flashed again in her eyes, anger at herself for feeling the way she did and at him for forcing her to admit her true feelings. “Don’t you get it? I love you. I’ve loved you since I was five years old and I don’t know how to love anyone else. I look at you and it’s all I can do not to throw myself at you. So, please—get off me. I really don’t want to make a bigger a fool of myself than I already have.”

He opened his mouth to speak but she wouldn’t let him. “No, don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it again. You made yourself clear a long time ago. I know you don’t feel that way about me. But it doesn’t change anything. I can’t stop the way I feel. All I can do is try to deal with it. Just don’t make it tougher than it already is.”

“Can I get a word in?” he asked when she finally stopped talking.

She looked up at him and nodded. “I never said I didn’t care about you. For the love of god, do you think I would’ve been so filled with rage about losing the child if I didn’t care? I thought you had deliberately aborted the baby and that only confirmed what I thought about rich white people. That they just used other people and tossed them aside when they found something better to amuse them. I spent years trying to hate you and what you did. And I took it out on everyone around me. I carried that fury with me every moment of every day.”

“But I didn’t kill the baby! I would have died before I did that.”

“I know,” he said softly. “At least I do now. But there’s something you have to accept. I’ve spent years trying not to love you. I knew how you felt and yes, I did use it against you. I wanted to hurt you—the way I hurt. So, I flaunted my relationships in your face. But those women were victims. I used them. You see, I’m not the gentle, romantic figure you think I am. There’s not much gentle about me or my feelings. I can’t be the tender, sweet lover you want. There’s nothing gentle about the way I feel…or the way I want you.”

“Want…you want me?” she asked in surprise.

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation. “But like I said, I may not be what you really want. I’m not smooth and polished. I don’t say all the right things and—”

“What makes you think that’s what I want?” she interrupted. “Why do you assume that I need some prissy little executive in a three-piece Brooks Brothers’ suit whose idea of exercise is a stirring round of golf and who thinks romance is a Frank Sinatra album, caviar and champagne?”

“But I thought—” He gave her a puzzled look. “Isn’t that what all—”

“Rich white girls want?” she finished the sentence irritably. “Wyatt, you’ve been reading too many romance novels. And I’m not like all those other rich white girls.”

“Then what are you?” he asked in a slightly teasing tone.

Chance looked up at him seriously. “I’m the same person I’ve always been. I don’t want some Don Juan who’s going to say pretty words and treat me like a fragile flower who might break at any moment. And I don’t want to be nothing more than something to decorate a man’s arm at social events. I want…I want a man who has real feelings and needs and isn’t afraid of them. I want—oh, damn it all, I want you, Wyatt, just like you are. That’s what I’ve always wanted.”

His eyes gleamed in the firelight. “I’m not the young boy you remember. Life—the way I lived, the things I’ve done—it’s changed me.”

“Maybe. You’re older and you’ve experienced things that have affected the way you look at life.” She pulled one hand free to reach out and place her palm against his chest, over his heart. “But in here you’re still the same.”

“And what if I’m not? What if you find someone you don’t like in there?”

“Then I’ll tell you to get lost.” Her words held no real conviction.

Wyatt stared at her for a moment then moved off her. She sat up and after a few moments she moved onto her knees in front of him. Tentatively she touched him, letting her hands move over his skin lightly.

“You’re the most perfectly beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” she whispered, tracing her fingers over the muscles of his chest.

He watched her face as her eyes moved over his body. “I’m nowhere near perfect,” he argued in a husky voice.

“You are to me,” she whispered as her hands moved down his chest and abdomen, stopping at the top of his jeans. She looked up at him as she unfastened the button then slowly unzipped them.

“May I?”

Wyatt nodded and rose up so she could slide his pants down. He pulled them off and tossed them aside. Chance’s eyes were dilated as they traveled over his naked body. She ran her fingertips up the inside of his thighs, brushing against his manhood then moving away. He shivered slightly at the featherlight caress and she repeated the stroke. But this time her hand wrapped around him, squeezing and stroking firmly.

Wyatt’s eyes closed as she stroked him. A groan accompanied his eyes abruptly opening as she took him in her mouth. His body tensed at the movements of her mouth and tongue and he wound his hands in her long hair, stilling her actions.

She looked up at him and he tugged on her hair, bringing her face to his. His tongue flicked out, licking at her lips and she captured it within them. The kiss was unhurried yet filled with need.

Wyatt pushed her back. She knelt on her knees facing him, their eyes locked together. He unbuttoned the shirt she wore and pushed it off her shoulders. His gaze was almost tangible on her skin. She felt burned by his eyes as they moved down her body.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered. “More than I remembered.”

She felt a thrill race through her at his words. “Wyatt,” she breathed as his lips touched her neck. “Love me.  Please.”

He did not have the power to do anything but pull her to him. Their passion burned brighter than the flames that lit the cave, lasting long after the last embers of the fire had died away.

* * * * *

Wyatt woke to find the fire had long since burned out. Only a few embers glowed dimly. He covered Chance then got up and went to the entrance of the cave where wood was stacked in a pile. Within minutes flames licked up through the dry wood, lighting the cave.

Chance immediately snuggled over to him as he lay down beside her. She threw her arm across him as she put her head on his chest and pressed against his side. Wyatt put his arm around her, holding her close as he looked down at her.

He had never imagined there would come a time when the anger and resentment he had been carrying for so long would cease. In some odd way, it left him feeling empty. It had been a part of him for so long that its absence was almost like losing part of himself. That didn’t frighten him. He was relieved to be rid of it. But there was something that did make him feel nervous and that was the feelings that Chance had rekindled in him.

He traced his fingers over her face, thinking how beautiful she was. She had always been beautiful, but now he saw her in a new light. He realized that while she may have come from the rich white world, she was nothing like the others he had met in his life. He also realized that he could no longer deny the way he felt about her. He supposed he had loved her as long as he could remember. That time long ago, the first time they made love, had been etched indelibly on his mind. Even though he had tried to forget, he could still remember every moment. The way she looked and felt and tasted. He’d often thought that the memory was some kind of personal hell for him.

Now that he knew she hadn’t betrayed him, he didn’t have to deny his feelings. Yet he was anxious. Was love enough? He couldn’t give her the kind of life she was accustomed to. Nor did he want to. He had no desire to live in the rich white man’s world. He had been trained to be a killing machine, that was the life he knew, one filled with danger at every turn and uncertainty as to whether the next mission would be his last. Anyone who chose to be part of his life would be forced to live with that uncertainty as well.