I monitored Vale for three days. Since he’d passed out, he hadn’t awakened or made the slightest noise, and I was getting worried. Really worried. Too many times, I’d considered breaking my promise to him and calling for medical help, but if there was one thing I prided myself on, it was keeping my word. I also had an ominous feeling every time I picked up the phone to call for help, and I always ended up putting the damn thing back on the counter; which was the reason I was in the kitchen this very moment.
It had been hell caring for the man who had stood me up. I’d gotten to know every inch of his body when his fever had risen to one hundred and four, and I’d had to put ice packs against his skin to cool him. When I’d dried him off, I couldn’t stop my gaze from travelling over the muscles in his legs, the flat planes of his abdomen, the cut of his pectoral muscles and his bulky arms. Why couldn’t he be as attracted to me as I was to him? He was beautiful in every way, a perfect example of the male body and I desired him immensely.
His lips looked so soft, and more than a few times, I was tempted to see how they felt against my mouth as he slept. I had traced the line of his jaw and smoothed back the hair from his forehead, curious as to whether his hair was as thick and luscious as I thought. Even doing that had made me feel guilty.
After his fever had broken, he’d been dreaming and had wrapped his arm around my waist, holding me close as he slumbered. The sheets had fallen from his body when he’d turned, trapping my right arm against his chest and making it impossible for me to cover him back up. I watched wide-eyed as his other hand had lifted the front of my shirt and moved toward my breast. Though I craved his touch, I’d gently pushed his hand away, blocking his attempt. He had succeeded in lifting the back of my shirt with his other hand so we’d touched each other, skin to skin.
Even though only we’d snuggled for a few minutes, I wished we could have stayed like that forever. I’d felt as though I was right where I was supposed to be as he’d held me tightly, but out of respect for his modesty, as well as what I believed were his conscious wishes—he hadn’t even wanted to have dinner with me, after all—I’d tried to move to adjust the covers. Instead of releasing me, he’d crushed me even tighter against him and wrapped his body around mine in a fetal position, his arms and legs locking me against him like a vise. My shirt completely askew, I was amazed at his strength even in his sleep as he spooned my upright body.
Though I knew I shouldn’t, I’d used my Sensitive abilities to feel out his emotions. He’d definitely desired me, or at least whomever he’d thought he was touching. With that thought, I’d slammed my shields back in place. He might not have even been thinking about me, and here, I’d probed into his emotions to justify my lack of action.
While I’d been Sensing him, his hand had worked its way up my shirt and found its target—my breast. I’d gasped as a mixture of hot lust and cold guilt washed over me. Vale had moaned in his sleep as he’d snuggled against me and continued to squeeze my flesh in his hands. Ashamed but thoroughly enjoying his touch, I’d debated whether to toss my shirt onto the floor or push him away once again. His cock hardened against my behind and spurred me to remove myself.
Part of me had wanted to let him have his way with me, however far it went. Was it possible to fall in love with someone who wasn’t even awake? Was I out of my mind to allow something like that to happen between us because my Sensitive abilities told me he desired me? The possibility he dreamed of someone else was at least fifty-fifty, probably more, and not in my favor.
He’d fought to hold onto me, but I was determined not to take advantage of him. I needed to look in the mirror every day without guilt, and if I allowed him to touch me or if I touched him intimately while he was unconscious, that would be lost forever. He’d whimpered as I’d stood, and when I’d reached for the sheet, I’d thought he whispered my name. Positive I’d misheard him or heard what I desperately wanted to hear, I’d covered him and promptly left the room.
That had been two hours ago.
I sighed in defeat and returned the phone to its dock just as I heard noises coming from Vale’s room. Running into the guest bedroom, I found him mumbling in his sleep, intermittently yelling, “Get away!”
I stood over him, gently running one of my hands over his arm, while the other caressed his face. “It’s okay, Vale. You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you,” I said softly.
Responding to my voice, he quieted as he whispered over and over again, “Eve. My Eve.” He opened his eyes briefly and mumbled, “Need you,” before closing them again. He mumbled in his sleep and protested when I stopped caressing his arm.
It was only when I said, “I’m right here, Vale,” that he finally slept peacefully.
I stood above him open-mouthed, the words he’d spoken finally registering in my brain. He
had
spoken my name. I wasn’t crazy.
Chapter Eight
Vale’s body healed rapidly, yet he still wouldn’t wake. Going on day three, I began to panic. Although his fever had broken two days ago, I worried he still had an internal infection. Was it possible to have an infection but not have a fever? When would he wake up? For that matter,
would
he ever wake up? How long was I supposed to keep my unconscious guest a secret from everyone? I’d already cancelled dinner with my grandfather once by using a lame excuse, and I knew he wouldn’t be satisfied if I tried to use another one.
Frustrated, I decided I needed a bit of fresh air and stepped out onto my back porch. It was as hot and muggy as the last time I’d been outside, though I felt a slight breeze against my skin. Even with the moving air, I was still uncomfortable and went back inside to sit in front of the television to relax. Hours passed before my body finally craved sleep.
It was fully dark, and I’d only been asleep for a few minutes when I heard a loud clunk from the direction of the guest bedroom. Dressed in my PJs, I went to check on Vale but stopped when I heard a loud snap coming from my storm door as the so-called lock—my rubber band—broke in two. It swung freely as a gust from the storm caught it, and it banged against the side of my house.
Crouching, I raced back toward my bedroom, opened the safe and loaded my gun. It was pitch dark in my house, which might work to my advantage, and I always had my magical wards. It was then that I realized I had been so distracted with Vale that I’d forgotten to set the ward on my fence again. How could I have been so forgetful of something so important, especially when I knew the hunters had never been found?
The chirping of the crickets became louder as my front door opened. Whoever the intruder was, they were skilled at picking the deadbolt and doorknob locks, though the latter was just a showy deterrent.
The threshold ward twanged and vibrated through me twice as the beings easily crossed into my living room. My motion-detecting light came on suddenly, the indirect light projecting two figures on the wall against the kitchen cabinets. They were obviously armed.
One man’s head abruptly turned in my direction, and I froze, not daring to move as I gripped the small gun. Due to the strength of the breeze, my front door banged open and smacked against the wall, startling the two men, giving me the second I needed to crouch back onto the floor.
“Hank, shut the damn door, will you?” one man whispered harshly. “Stupid idiot! If she’s not already awake, she will be soon!”
“Yeah, fine,” the man called Hank quietly replied as he kicked the door away from him.
There were two entrances that led into the hallway. The men were closest to the one leading from the kitchen and to the spare bedroom. There was no way I’d allow them to discover Vale! If I worked my way back to the living room, maybe I could throw something into the kitchen to make redirect their attention. I stood closest to my bedroom. Still hunched down, I slowly made my way back to my bedroom to grab my phone.
The men crept toward the hallway as I pressed Bud’s speed dial number. By now, the two men had reached the spare bedroom door and had opened it to look inside. Mirroring their movement, I carefully crept around wall as Bud finally answered his phone.
Since it was two in the morning, he immediately asked, “Eve, what’s wrong?”
I prayed he’d hear me as I said as quietly as possible, “There are two burglars in my house. Get here now!” I disconnected the call and turned off the phone. Even if he hadn’t understood me, I knew he’d come check on me, especially if he called back and I didn’t answer my phone.
Not-Hank said, “It’s empty. Go to the next door.”
It took a second for his comment to register, then I realized he was talking about the spare bedroom.
Empty? What was he talking about? Where was Vale?
Again, the front door blew in with the force of the wind, and I ducked quickly to the floor, hoping the end of the couch would block me from view.
“Dammit, I told you to
shut
the door. Can’t you do anything right, dumbass?” Not-Hank stalked toward the front door. A gust of wind caught the storm door, and it banged open again, startling me so I nearly jumped out of my skin. I had to get control over myself or I’d be dead meat if he turned around. The couch no longer blocked me from sight, and I couldn’t draw attention to myself by being so jumpy. I gripped my gun tighter and watched as he grabbed the knob.
Anger flowed through me as I recognized the man as one of the hunters who’d trespassed on my property several days ago. Mr. Good ‘ol Boy, the hunter with dark hair who’d tried to charm me into letting the two men look around the old house and grounds, was standing in my living room!
As the hunter was about to shut the door, a caterwauling scream sounded and a black blur of teeth and claws sprang forth and tackled the man to the floor. The intruder’s gun flew into my kitchen as he howled in pain and struggled against his attacker.
“
Hank
! Help me!” yelled the man on the floor. He screamed as his partner ran into the living room and stopped dead in his tracks.
Hank pointed his gun at the thing attacking his partner, aimed carefully and waited for an opening in the struggle to hit the growling thing trying to injure his partner.
Realizing I had to act while Hank was distracted, I fired my gun. My target had been the man’s thigh and my bullet hit home, just before Hank fired his gun. The sudden pain caused Hank’s shot to go high, out the open door and into the night.
“Ah! Shit, shit, shit!” Hank bellowed as he fell onto his side. He dropped his gun and grabbed his bloody thigh with both of his hands.
The man on the floor stopped shrieking suddenly, and the outdoor motion light turned off. I didn’t want to believe what I saw, though it was right in front of my eyes. A huge cougar stood over a now-silent, bloodied man.
Hank wailed and rolled around on the floor as I reached up and flipped on the living room light, revealing an ugly scene. As though he’d suddenly been zapped by electricity when I’d turned on the light, Hank got to his feet, grabbed his gun and staggered toward the door. As he tried to pass the big cat, the black cougar screamed an inhuman sound and swiped at him, ripping his shirt and tearing his flesh.
Hank yelled again as adrenaline kicked in. He threw himself out the storm door with such force the spring dislocated. Having become weak due to so much abuse in one night, the glass shattered. He limped his way across the lawn, leaving Mr. Good ‘ol Boy in my living room. Apparently, there was no loyalty between bad guys when faced with a cougar and a woman with a gun.
Time stood still as the cougar and I stared at each other while I remained crouched on the floor. The big cat opened his mouth to pant, revealing teeth that were covered in red, which I presumed was blood from the unmoving man on the floor.
He ran his tongue across his muzzle then stepped off the body and closer to the front door. He shook his paws the way cats do when they’ve stepped in something wet, splattering blood everywhere. The big cat met my gaze once more then bounded out the door, leaving me stunned and alone with a dead man on my floor.
I began to shake uncontrollably as the night’s events slowly sank in. I didn’t even consider whether Hank would return and to finish me off as my mind began to slip into shock.
I heard a moan from the other side of the couch but was too afraid to look, terrified that if I was wrong, I’d be looking at a dead body. Had I been feeling normal, I would have easily been able to sense the presence of another person. Instead, I felt completely numb. My joints stiffened as I forced them to move, robotically crawling to see if the man was alive. Sobbing, I willed myself to peek around the corner of the couch and was stunned when I found a ton of blood but no body.
Suddenly heaving, I emptied the contents of my stomach, which wasn’t much anyway, and collapsed by the couch. The sound of Bud’s 4x4 crunching over the rocks as he pulled into my driveway barely registered. He called my name before peering around the corner of the front door then stopping cold. Always thinking like a sheriff and not wanting to disturb the crime scene, he saw me then surveyed the area before heading around to the back of the house. I heard him shove the blinds to the side as he marched into my bedroom through the sliding glass doors.
By the time he came into the living room, I’d fallen over and was huddled into a ball as the world swam before me. Bud disappeared for what seemed like an eternity then came back into the living room and wrapped my shivering body in the comforter from my bed. He got out his cell phone and called for back-up and an ambulance.
We had about ten minutes before people swarmed the house. Bud seemed to know I would need a few minutes to collect my thoughts even though we had very little time. While we waited, he snapped a few pictures with his phone then held me tightly and stroked my hair. He whispered soothing words and gave me a final strong hug before asking what had happened.