Wild Cat (13 page)

He didn't hurt you physically,
she reminded herself. Not like Paolo. But the emotional pain was so much worse. Far, far worse. She could almost take Paolo before Elijah because she would never feel about Paolo the way she had about Elijah. He couldn't hurt her that way.

“Stop it,” Elijah said, his voice a growling command. “Seriously, Siena. Let it go.” His hand settled in her hair, fingers sliding deep into the long, silky strands and fisting there. He pulled her head up, the little bite of pain startling her. His dark gaze blazed into hers.

“Do you really think I can erase the things you said to me so easily?” she hissed, wishing she were strong enough to push him away.

“I told you I didn't mean them. That should be enough.”

She frowned at him. “That's arrogance, Elijah. Sheer
arrogance. You said it. You can't take it back.” She ducked her head. “The worst part of it is, what you said was true. I didn't know what I was doing. I
was
there to distract you even if I didn't know it. The reason he sent me was so Marco could slip inside undetected. I confronted him and he all but admitted it to me.” Bile rose and she pressed the back of her hand against her mouth.

“Baby, no way was it the truth. I'm telling you the truth right now. You're leopard and you can hear it in my voice. I have never once lost control with a woman. Not a single time in my life. You made me lose control. Hell, I was so far gone I didn't even realize you were a virgin. I needed to fuck you fast and hard. Rough. Get inside you any way I could. I was so damned hungry for you, I couldn't think straight. That's sure as hell not because you didn't know what you were doing, babe. It was because you made me crazy for you.”

She shook her head, trying to hear what he said, wishing she could believe him. She'd had a lot of time while she was recovering in the hospital to go over every single thing that had happened between them from the time she drove up his drive until he threw her out. She'd been so hot for him—a fever of need—a hunger so great she couldn't think clearly. Once he'd touched her, lifting her out of the car and into his arms, she'd been lost. There was no going back. The fire burned too hot.

Had it been that way for him as well? He'd certainly acted as if it had. He'd seemed as far gone as she had been. He hadn't even taken his clothes off. He hadn't taken her to the bedroom. Still, he'd had a gun taped beneath the table in the foyer. Who did that unless they were expecting a hit man?

“You knew Marco was going to try to kill you.” She made it a statement. Her eyes met his. She had to know. See. He nodded, and her heart took a plunge.

“When you buzzed the house from the gate and told me your grandfather had sent me his reserve, I knew then. I hadn't had a birthday recently. I had quietly carried out my own
investigation of the four others you took the wine to. Don Miguel's son is a friend, and he asked me to look into it. He suspected Antonio because within days after his father's death, Antonio's men made a move on the territory. Still, I had no idea how he actually had gotten the hit man past security.”

“Me,” she said sadly. She needed to lie down. She was so tired. She hadn't gotten her cup of tea, but now all she wanted to do was sleep.

“You,” he agreed. “So when you told me, I knew it was going to happen.”

“And you taped the gun beneath the table in the foyer,” she prompted.

“That gun is always taped there. I have several stashed throughout the house. I wouldn't have planned to seduce you in the foyer, Siena, if that's what you're thinking. That was no seduction. That was pure, honest need. I was so far gone, baby, that I forgot about a hit man. All I could do was think about you, and I almost got us both killed.”

She couldn't help but hear the honesty in his voice. She wanted to believe him and maybe a part of her did, but that other part, the one that didn't know the first thing about hot sex, held her back. He hadn't come after her, not even when he realized she was a virgin.

He came after you and saved you from Paolo,
her inner voice reminded when she wanted it to shut up. She didn't want to invest in him, or think he had any kind of a good side at all. It was just so much safer to view him as a complete player. Mean. Cruel. But she knew he wasn't. He had feathered kisses down her back. Down her hip and thigh. He meant every single one of them. She'd
felt
the sincerity. She didn't want to, but she did.

Pure, honest need.
For her. For Siena Arnotto. She couldn't accept that, not with the blood on her hands. She closed her eyes again and leaned forward, silently asking him to remove the pillows so she could lie down for a few minutes.

She was supposed to get up and move around for ten minutes at a time and then rest for fifteen. But it hurt. Especially her leg. Right now, it was her emotions that hurt more than her body. She needed to turn everything off for a little while. Take a break from facing reality and just hopefully go to sleep.

“I'm tired, Elijah,” she said, not lying. “Really tired.”

“I know, baby,” he answered immediately, pulling the pillows from behind her back and laying them flat for her. He helped her slide down in the bed and turn on her side.

His shirt was warm and comforting. She was very aware she wasn't wearing any underwear, but there was no material rubbing over her hip or pulled tight against her back, and honestly, the pain had been reduced mostly to a dull ache.

“Jake Bannaconni and his woman will be here shortly. His ranch neighbors mine. He wants you to meet Emma.”

She touched her fingertips to the bandage on her cheek. She wasn't ready to meet anyone, least of all Jake Bannaconni's wife. She turned her face into the pillow and closed her eyes, surprised when Elijah pulled the cover up over her shoulders and tucked her in.

H
EART
pounding, Siena turned and ran, knowing she was fleeing for her life. Knowing the large, hideous cat with its evil eyes would run her down. It was faster and stronger and she was already injured. Her ribs hurt with every step she took. Her breath came in raw, burning gasps, but she tried anyway. She burst through the dense underbrush, branches scraping her naked body. She made it seven steps. Seven. That was all. In her mind she was counting, and she felt hot breath on her back at number seven.

A giant claw ripped down her back, taking off skin, the pain so excruciating she actually saw stars. Willing herself to pass out, she half turned toward the cat. A claw slapped at her face, knocking her sideways, tossing her body through the air as if she weighed no more than a feather. Her face tore open, a deep laceration, blood running into her eye, making it impossible to see.

She landed hard on her belly and curled into the fetal position as the cat leapt on her, sinking his teeth into her shoulder, twin ice picks driving deep, a savage move that held her immobile while those yellow, malevolent eyes stared down at her with fury. Watching her face, the cat raked its claw from her hip to her knee, the claw curving deep into her body, tearing through skin and muscle to try to get to the bone.

She screamed. She didn't want to give him that satisfaction, but the only release she had was the sound of agony pouring from her throat. She screamed and screamed.

“Siena.” The door burst open and Elijah was there, gun in his fist, eyes tracking the room as he rushed to her side. He put one hand on her shoulder to reassure her he was there, and his body moved over hers, shielding her.

She was grateful as she jolted out of sleep and realized the room was filling with men. Drake. Joshua. Another man she didn't know. Jake Bannaconni hovering by the door. All of them with weapons. She turned her red face into Elijah's chest, hiding. She didn't care who knew either. She wanted them gone.

“I've got her,” Elijah said, his voice a clear command. “We'll be out in a few minutes. She'll need food, she hasn't eaten all day.”

He held her, one hand on the nape of her neck, fingers providing a soothing massage, the other arm around her bottom, low so that he didn't rub against the four long lacerations at her back. He waited until the door closed before he nuzzled the top of her head.

“Are you all right, baby?”

His voice turned her heart over. He sounded so gentle. Tender almost. He was definitely a man's man. He barked orders, intimidated everyone with his hard, piercing eyes, and the dangerous set to his shoulders. He held himself aloof from the others most of the time. She'd heard the men joking
with one another even in her hospital room, but few of them ever spoke to Elijah that way. He didn't smile often. In fact, she'd never seen him smile at anyone else.

“It was just a bad dream,” she admitted. Her pulse still pounded in her veins and every single place the leopard had attacked her ached with the memory so close.

He pulled back and looked down at her. “I need you to look at me, Siena.”

She twisted her fingers in the front of his shirt and reluctantly obeyed him. Once her gaze met his, she couldn't look away. That was how powerful he was. He held her there, just with his peculiar mercury-colored eyes.

“I asked if you were all right. I expect an answer, not bullshit or a diversion.”

She blinked. She would never win a stare-down with him. She couldn't defy him either, not when his commanding voice was so gentle. Not when his face was carved with real concern.

“I dream a lot about the attack. When I do, it's so real, it feels like it's happening all over again. Everything hurts.” She glanced toward the window, afraid she might see the large head of the leopard appear there. Her gaze slid back to his as if drawn there. “I'm afraid all the time.”

He leaned down and brushed his mouth lightly over the bandage on her face. “The team has the house surrounded. We have two men on the roof. Drake's in the house. So is Joshua. Jake's men are patrolling along his fence line, and Eli has men doing the same. No one is going to get through, baby.
All
of them are leopards, experienced in security work.”

She swallowed. Nodded. “Intellectually, I know that, Elijah, but I can't seem to get my emotions to believe it.” Her voice came out in a whisper. The attack felt too close. She didn't want to let go of him. She didn't know how it happened, but somehow, Elijah had become her anchor. She knew she would have to stand on her own feet soon, but for right now, she was going to set everything aside and just let him take over.

“You're shaking, Siena. Take a breath and let me hold you for a minute. Then I'll brush your hair for you.”

Instantly she touched the wild mass tumbling everywhere. She'd always wanted board-straight hair, so at least it would look sleek and shiny. No, she had gotten thick waves. Big hair. Lots of it. The waves only added to the volume, and when she slept on it, the mass just got bigger. “It drives me nuts,” she admitted.

“I love your hair,” Elijah said, transferring his hold to her hips so he could scoot her forward in the bed. He got behind her, his back to the headboard, wedging her in between his thighs, but very careful of her back. “I could play in your hair for hours.”

The way he said
play
sent a shiver through her body. She was instantly aware of his dark sensuality. Of the ruthless set of his mouth. His dark, hooded eyes. The way his gaze drifted over her. Brooding. Possessive. Hungry.

He took the brush from the nightstand and began to tug the bristles through the length of her hair. She twisted her fingers in her lap and bowed her head while the brush moved against her scalp.

“You don't have to do this,” she said, not moving. Not wanting him to stop. Still, his sweetness was disarming and she didn't dare fall under his spell.

“I enjoy it,
mi corazon
.” There was a smile in his voice. “We have company. We can't have you looking like I took advantage of you.”

Her heart stuttered at the implication. She bit down hard on her lip, her mind shying away from the images his teasing provoked. Who knew a man like Elijah would enjoy brushing her hair? He didn't seem to brush his all that often—not that she minded the way his black hair fell in waves around his face and down his neck. He always looked—hot. Still, it didn't make sense to her that he would take the brush and smooth the tangles from her hair because they had visitors.

“Elijah? I would prefer not to get up.” She wanted to stay
wrapped in her little cocoon, hiding beneath the covers, lying very still, feeling comforted by the soft material of Elijah's shirt.

“I'm well aware of that, baby.”

He continued to brush her hair. He didn't seem in a hurry, although she knew Jake Bannaconni and his wife, Emma, waited in the other room for them.

“I don't want to see anyone,” she persisted.

“I know you don't.” He spoke gently. Matter-of-factly. He kept brushing her hair as if she hadn't spoken.

The action of the brush pulling through the thick strands of hair and massaging her scalp soothed her. She liked the feel of his hands in her hair. He took his time, as if they had all the time in the world and this was one of his most favorite things to do.

“I really would prefer to stay in here, Elijah.” She tried to pour strength and resolution into her voice. “I don't think I'm up to meeting new people.”

“You can't hide from the world, baby,” he said, the brush continuing to tug at her hair. His voice was low, almost a purr. Mesmerizing. “You'll like Emma. You haven't had that many friends in your life.”

“You don't know that.”

“Siena.” He said her name like a reprimand. “I've kept tabs on you ever since you were fifteen years old. All hair and eyes and gorgeous skin. You think I didn't notice you? Hell. I was a fucking pervert, dreaming about you.”

Her stomach did a little flip at his admission, but she pushed down the warm feeling rising. “You preferred tall, skinny blondes.” She blurted out the truth before she realized just how much it revealed to him—that she'd been watching him as well.

“I had no choice,” Elijah said, leaning close as he swept the thick mass of hair from the nape of her neck. He pressed his mouth against her skin and then feathered kisses along
her neck and her shoulder. His teeth scraped there, sending flames dancing through her belly. “I refused to be so much of a pervert that I dated women who were surrogates for you.” He admitted the truth matter-of-factly.

She felt the burn of his mouth now, working at her skin, branding her. He invaded her space casually, as if she belonged to him. His hands on her body always felt intimate. He touched her the moment he was close to her. He had in the hospital, and he certainly was now. She knew she should put a stop to it, for the sake of self-preservation alone, but she couldn't help herself. She told herself it didn't matter, that she wasn't committing to anything, she just wasn't up to fighting with him. The truth was much more complicated, but she refused to think about it too much.

“No, you didn't.” She had to deny that. She couldn't let it go. If it was the truth, he was even more of a danger to her than she thought, and she thought he was a
huge
red flag. She needed to put the brakes on, but he kept doing things like sliding his tongue just behind her ear so that small little flames danced in her bloodstream.

“I did,
mi amor
.” His hands were back at her hair, dividing the mass into three sections. “Your braid is as thick as my arm, Siena. Can you imagine what our child is going to have in the way of hair? Mine is thick, and yours is even thicker.”

She stiffened at the mention of her baby, one hand automatically dropping down protectively. “You can't talk about that. Not yet. I just can't go there.” Elijah was right though—any child they had together would have a mass of hair. His was nearly as wild as hers.

There was silence. His hands stilled in her hair. She pressed her lips together and then looked over her shoulder at him. She couldn't read his expression.

“Elijah?”

He frowned, his dark eyes forcing her gaze to remain on his. “I guess I never asked you if you wanted the baby. I was
happy we were having a child, so much so that I never once considered you might not want it.”

She pressed her hand tighter against her stomach, as if she could shield the baby from the conversation. She didn't know how she felt, or how to react.

“Siena, talk to me. Be honest. This is important.”

There was that note in his voice. A warning. Something lethal. She found herself shivering. She had the feeling that he would put a manacle around her ankle and hold her prisoner if she said she was considering getting rid of their child.
Their
child. That was the problem. Not the baby. She sighed. Elijah was right. They had to talk about it, and he deserved the truth. He was the father, there was no denying that fact.

“I want the baby,” she admitted.

She caught the relief in his eyes before he leaned into her, brushing a kiss on her mouth this time. It was the first time he'd actually kissed her lips since he'd thrown her out of the house, and her heart nearly stopped. It wasn't sexual, but it was intimate. Just like sitting between his thighs was intimate.

“I want the baby too, Siena. It makes me happy that you do as well.” He tugged at her hair until she turned her head around so he could continue braiding it.

“Elijah, I want the baby, but I don't like the fact that we made this child the way we did.” There, she'd told him the truth. “I can barely look at you without hearing the things you said to me. Every word is branded on my soul. That may sound dramatic to you, but it's the absolute truth. I don't want to be here. I told you that when you said you were going to bring me here. I don't want you to be my baby's father. I don't know if I can ever get past what happened.”

She bit down hard on her lip, afraid he'd be angry with her. He'd asked for the truth and she'd given it to him. She kept her head down, staring at her fingers, locked together so hard in her lap they were white.

“That's fair, baby. I don't blame you. I was a dick to you.
What woman wants to remember the father of her child being a
bastardo absoluta
?”

She drew in a startled breath. It was the last thing she expected him to say.

“That said, I
am
the father of our baby. I am your man. You're my woman. I know that's going to take some getting used to, but we're here and we'll find our way.”

“I don't know who you are, Elijah. That man who said those things to me or this man, the one who's so sweet he makes me want to cry.”

“Wish I could say I was only the sweet one, babe, but we're being truthful, and I have to admit I'm both. I can be a real bastard sometimes. You know the worst of me.”