Jared (25 page)

“Starting with Creed?” The predatory warning growl
underlying his tone made the decision for her.

“Not at this point. One overly macho pain in the butt
this side of forever is enough.”

He grabbed her chin and lifted her face to his. “If I
catch these pretty fangs going near any other, I’ll be ticked.”

She jerked her chin, aggravated beyond belief when she
couldn’t get clear of his grip. “I don’t think you can be any more ticked than
you are now.”

His thumb brushed her lower lip. “Flash those fangs at
another man, and see how fast I can turn pure mean.”

She slapped his hand away and bared her fangs in a
growl of her own. “Threats aren’t going to do a thing to move me one way or
another.”

His thumb pressed into her mouth. “You don’t think
so?”

“No. And if you want these pretty little fangs
anywhere near you, then you’re going to have to raise your game.”

“To what?”

“To one I want to play.”

JARED took her to the same cave where they’d spent
their first night. This time she wasn’t so exhausted that she couldn’t
appreciate the skill of the illusion that protected the door.

“Nice work,” she murmured as he waved it away.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “I thought you were
giving me the silent treatment?”

“I was. You just got the whole treatment.”

“Have a hard time keeping your mouth shut, huh?”

She sighed and rubbed her hands up and down her arms.
It was dank in the cave. “No. I just can’t hold a grudge.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s the bane of my existence.” Especially with
Jared. She moved to the back of the cave, to the little room. It would be so
much easier if she could hate him, but everything in her just wanted to be with
him, however he would take her. When she looked back, the illusion at the front
of the cave was replaced. In her night vision, Jared was a stark silhouette of
strength and power outlined by the pale yellow of the illusion’s energy. “I’m
working on fixing it though.”

It only took him three strides to get to her side.
“Don’t fix it on my account.”

She watched as he opened the room, memorizing the
pattern of the energy he used. “I plan to do it for myself.”

The illusion disappeared. The room hadn’t gotten any
bigger. If she stood in the middle, she could touch the side walls. And
lengthwise, well, the only way Jared would fit was if he bent his knees. She
remembered how they’d slept before, with him as her bed, her nestled securely
in the cradle of his thighs.

She looked over her shoulder at him. He was standing
there, staring at the room also. A muscle ticked in his cheek. Because she was
still mad at him and because it was the perfect opportunity, she asked, “Afraid
being cooped up next to me might create a compromise in your principles?”

His eyes narrowed. “Being close to you won’t make me
forget what you did.”

No. Probably nothing would. Men of honor could be very
rigid. She held out her hand. “Could I have my pack please?”

He gave it to her, a tight set to his mouth. “You lied
to me.”

“No.” She dug in her pack for her brush. “I didn’t. If
you’re feeling betrayed, it’s because you prefer making assumptions to asking
questions. Part of that delusion you have that you’re always right.”

The minute she put the wide-toothed brush in her hair
it snagged on a snarl. She gave it a yank. Out of the corner of her eye she saw
Jared’s hand twitch. He was furious. Well, tough. She was also getting annoyed
all over again.

“I’m not wrong.”

She bit back a curse as the snarl grabbed hold of the
brush and wouldn’t let it go. She tugged at the imprisoned strands. Her day
just needed this. “So you keep telling me.”

“You’re with the Sanctuary.”

“So are a lot of women. Doesn’t mean I buy into their
grand scheme.” She got a strand loose. She sat back against the wall. “Heck, I
don’t even understand what it is.”

“They have your picture.”

“They also have my DNA. I didn’t give it to them
willingly, but they still have it.” They’d strapped her down and stole it from
her for reasons she didn’t understand, but the possibilities haunted her. She
raised her brows at him, noting the fires in his eyes. “Does that mean I should
be shot at sunrise?”

He took one slow breath and then another. Flames
glimmered in his eyes. His fingers twitched again. “Vampires would more likely
put you to the squad at sunset.”

He had missed her point completely, wielding a literal
view as if it were a defense against everything, including her. “You are so
completely unemotional. It’s a wonder you can function at all.”

The brush slipped out of her grip, spun, and wrapped
in her hair. From the corner of her eye, she could see it dangling. She left it
there, a heavy reminder of how much she’d messed this up.

“Whereas you don’t have the common sense God gave a
gnat.” His fingers opened and closed. His arm jerked just a little before he
motioned to the brush. “Aren’t you going to get that?”

“I think I’ll just wait and see if it catches on as a
fashion accent.”

She fished around in her pack until she felt the soft
wool of a blanket. She drew it out, ignoring Jared’s frown as she pulled it
around her shoulders.

“You’re cold?”

She didn’t look at him. “No, I just thought I’d see
how well the blanket accessorizes with the brush.”

In reality, she was getting cold, which meant his
blood was starting to wear off, which meant in a little bit she was going to
have a whole new set of issues to cope with. She drew up her knees and rested
her head against them. The brush swung forward, pulling painfully at the
trapped hairs. She ignored it along with the moisture it brought to her eyes.
She needed a moment to get her emotions together; otherwise, when the pain
started, she was going to fall apart like the basket case she was beginning to
feel she was.

Jared’s long-suffering sigh was almost the straw that
broke the camel’s back. He sat down beside her. She refused to look at him.

“You can’t leave a brush in your hair.”

“I can do anything I want.”

She felt the weight of the brush lift. “So you told me
before, so why don’t you want this out?”

Because it was going take concentration and effort,
and she just didn’t have it to spare right now. “I told you.”

“Sunbeam, even you’re not so illogical that you expect
me to buy into that bunk.”

She rubbed her forehead against her knees. “An
endearment and an insult in one sentence. Which would you like me to respond
to?”

“How about you just sit there and let me take care of
your hair?”

“Why would you want to?”

“How about we just say it bothers my sense of logic to
leave that brush hanging there?”

She could believe that. She waved one hand. “If
leaving it sitting there is going to make you grumpier, run amok.”

“It will definitely foul my mood.”

The rustle of his clothing against the wall as he
shifted position scraped her nerves raw. She didn’t want him near her. All his
nearness did was make her want to throw herself into his arms. How could she
have given herself to such an infuriatingly unfeeling man? Her vampire had a
lot to answer for.

She didn’t say a word as Jared slipped his fingers
under the hank of hair caught in the brush. She did sigh a little as he lifted,
taking the sting off her scalp. She waited for his growl, curse, anything that
would indicate his frustration with the stubborn curls that first wrapped and
then rewrapped around the bristles. There weren’t any. He just addressed the
problem with endless patience.

As time passed, she began to realize the longer he
worked on the snarls, the more muted the anger coming from him became.
Apparently, working with her hair was soothing him. For that reason, she didn’t
complain when her right butt cheek began to feel bruised, just sat there and
endured until he slid the brush from her hair with a grunt of satisfaction.

“All done?”

“Yes.”

She shifted her weight. He was still angry, but not as
touchy as he used to be. Her buttock immediately sent a stab of pain down her
leg. “Thank you.”

His hand on her shoulder kept her put. “No sense
leaving the job undone.”

“My butt begs to differ.”

His energy immediately poured over her, searching,
seeking for the hurt he’d missed.

The flood of concern softened her voice despite her
best intentions. “I’m just uncomfortable from the hard floor.”

“I can fix that.”

“It’s not necess—” She never got a chance to finish.
With that easy strength that always thrilled her, he lifted her and settled her
down on the cushion of his thighs. “Better?”

That depended on what angle she looked at it from. But
if she were strictly talking from the perspective of her bruised butt . . .

“Yes.”

“Good.” The press of his fingers in the middle of her
shoulder blades was gentle but insistent. “Lean forward.”

She did, knowing what he wanted. A touch on her nape
had her dropping her head forward. His hand stroked from the crown of her hair
to the base, slipping beneath the curls to lift them, holding them . . .

“What are you doing?”

“Just admiring the view.”

His comment made her self-conscious. She reached back,
covering the strands he held. “It’s just hair.”

She felt the shake of his head in the slight vibration
that shook his body. “With my night vision it’s like moonlight rippling on
water, and in the light . . .” Another shake of his head. “It’s like all the
hues of the sun contained in silk.”

Jared Johnson, the poet? Next thing she knew he’d be
tossing aside logic and going with the moment. “You’re obviously overtired.”

His chuckle was a harder vibration. “Or maybe you just
need to see your hair through my eyes.”

“Thanks, I’ll pass.”

“Now that’s a shame.”

She sighed and drew her knees up, wrapped her arms
around her shins, and rested her forehead on her knees. “I know how you see
me.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, and I don’t need any more blows to my
self-image, thank you very much. It’s taken me two hundred seventy years, but
I’m just beginning to like myself.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“You find everything about me hard to accept.”

“That’s different than believing.”

“I’m sure there’s logic in there somewhere.”

She felt him gather the breath to explain. She held up
her hand, forestalling whatever completely sensible, totally ludicrous
reasoning he was harboring in regard to the differences between believing and
accepting. “You might as well save it. I’m not in the mood for it right now.”

She just wanted a moment of peace. No thinking. No
arguing, no impending tears. Just peace. As if he, too, were reluctant to
disturb the moment, Jared just kept brushing her hair. It felt right, natural
to lean back a bit and let him take her weight as he reached her crown, right
to stay in his arms after the last snarl had left her hair. Wonderful to let
him draw her back against his chest, surrounding her in his strength and his
power. The soft click of the brush being set on the rock floor barely broke the
moment. And then his fingers were at her temple, rubbing gently, steadily.

She leaned into his massage. “I’ll give you five bucks
if you never stop.”

“And here I’d do it for free.”

She turned to look at him. “Why?”

“You’re my woman. It’s what a man does for his wife.”

She turned farther, relying on him to catch her as her
balance shifted. “You’re the one who thinks I’m scum.”

“I don’t think you’re scum.”

“Then what do you think?”

He touched her chin and, with that logical honesty
that was so much a part of him, said, “I think you’re beautiful. I think you’re
sweeter than honey, crazier than a horse on loco weed, more fragile than china,
aggravating, courageous, and . . .”

He didn’t finish. She waited. “And?”

He sighed. “You just might be Sanctuary.”

“And if I say differently?”

“It doesn’t change the facts.”

God, she hated facts. “I guess that says it all.”

The man she’d mated with forever didn’t trust her. She
could feel the cramp gathering in her stomach. As if a bad situation wasn’t bad
enough, now there was this.

Jared’s fingers stopped massaging and moved to her
stomach. “You need to feed.”

“I’m fine.”

The stab of pain tore a gasp past her throat, making a
liar out of her.

He presented his wrist to her mouth. “There’s no need
for you to suffer.”