Reclaimed (2 page)

Sabrina studied her menu, uncomfortable under the weight of the waitress’s stare. She’d been told she was gorgeous often enough, but the scrutiny always made her uneasy. Petite, she stood at only five-foot-two, but voluptuous curves graced her in her hips and bust, leaving her resembling anything but a waif-like model. She also knew her green eyes were a unique moss color that sparkled, but in her opinion her hair ruined all of these attributes. Though it was a beautiful shade of brown with red highlights streaked throughout the curls, it tended to be a frizzy mess most of the time. Less Shakira, and more Chia Pet, to be precise.

“I’ll have the chicken cordon bleu and a baked potato and corn, please. Oh, and could I also have a cup of tea, no cream or sugar?” She lifted her gaze from the menu, pleased to see Patti had regained her composure.

“Sure, doll. Are you visiting the area? I noticed your accent. American?”

“Yes, American. But no, I’m not visiting. I moved here. Just yesterday.”

“Oh. Well, welcome. You live in town?”

“No, on Wear Bay Road by the cliffs.” She smiled politely.

“Oh, how nice. Well, I’ll go get your tea and bring your salad. House dressing?”

“Sure.”

Patti scurried away to the kitchen, and Sabrina shifted in her seat. Silence surrounded her, no one else in sight. Only the sound of clanging of pots and the low laughter escaping the kitchen as the door swung on its hinge met her ears. She tapped her fingers on the table, and her foot moved in perfect harmony. The sound of bells ringing disrupted her one-woman band, and she glanced in relief at the door.

Who would it be? An old man? A honeymooning couple? Instead of smiling as she had intended to do, her mouth dropped open, and she forgot to breathe.

The man of her dreams had just entered the same room as her.

Literally
—the man from her dreams last night was
here
.

He strode into the room confidently before coming to an abrupt halt. His gaze focused on her as his eyes widened and he paled. She knew with certainty her face mirrored his stunned expression.

She took a gulping breath, and the air burned her aching lungs. In her shock, she’d forgotten the small necessity of breathing. Confusion came over her as the blood returned to her brain. Wait, why did
he
stare at
her
like he’d just seen a ghost?

Sabrina bit her lip as he lifted his foot to take a step toward her, but he froze. His brow furrowed, and his eyes remained locked on her face. Patti breezed by him, delivering the promised tea and salad before turning to greet the man. Sabrina watched as he tore his gaze from hers to converse with Patti. She strained to catch the muted undertones of their conversation—and failed. The man looked once more toward Sabrina before exiting.

She fought down her irritation at the nameless man, angry he’d stopped himself from approaching her side earlier. And even more so that he had left without coming to speak to her.

He obviously wanted to, so what made him stop?

When Patti returned, Sabrina warred with herself over whether to question the waitress about him. In the end, her curiosity won out over the years of etiquette drilled into her by her parents and teachers.

“So, dear, how is your tea?” Patti asked.

“Excellent, thanks.” She cocked her head to the side and studied Patti. “Is the man who came in here earlier your friend? He looked kinda familiar to me.”

“He’s a regular customer, a local bloke. He wanted to talk to his friend who works here.” She gave a sharp nod of her head. “I told him Connor had off today, but he’d be in tomorrow afternoon. So he’ll probably come back.”

“I see,” she murmured. Patti bustled into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later carrying Sabrina’s meal. For once, Sabrina hadn’t noticed how alone she had been, or become antsy. She was too lost in thoughts of her dream man. She finished her meal, paid, and left a generous tip. Upon exiting, she spotted a liquor store nearby and darted in for Chablis. After the interesting turn of events—events that made her wonder if she were going insane—Sabrina needed a drink.

Or five.

Halfway back to her car, the hair rose on the back of her neck. She halted mid-step. Somebody watched her. She spun on a heel and gasped when she saw the man from her dreams in the alleyway a few feet behind her. He stood cloaked in shadow, but his face couldn’t be mistaken for anyone else’s. His image had been haunting her relentlessly all day.

She took a step toward him, but no sooner had she taken a step toward him, he disappeared. Where the hell could he have gone?

She took off at a run, needing to see if she could follow him. Men didn’t just walk out of your dreams every day, did they?

No, they don’t, you idiot. And now you are running into an alleyway looking for a man who, by all logic and reason, shouldn’t exist
.

She skidded to a halt in the entrance to the alleyway, one hand on her keychain…which no longer had any mace.

Crap
.

She’d had to turn it in when she’d moved the England, and had yet to find a suitable replacement. No matter, for he wasn’t there—nothing but trash and the overwhelming stench of urine awaited her. She cursed and kicked a crate that rested in disarray against the wall. Something dark and ugly scurried out of it at the resounding noise she’d made. She glowered after it, and cynically shook her head.

How could she think that a man could haunt her dreams and come to her in the light of day? Not possible. She couldn’t have predicted this man would enter her life. No way for her to have known him when he walked into the room.

And yet he had. And she did.

There just had to be a logical explanation behind this. Maybe she had seen him somewhere yesterday, but not
noticed
him, and he’d appeared in her dream.

Not
noticed
him?

Yeah, right. And maybe the homeless guy a few feet away was really Prince William, too
.

Maybe, just maybe, she should have stayed in California.

Chapter Two

She glanced behind her and forced her protesting legs to move faster. His footsteps grew closer each passing second. Hair whipped her in the eyes, forcing them to water in protest, which made it even harder to see where she ran in the purple moonlight, but she pressed herself to speed up even more. He’d gotten even closer. His steady breathing sounded in her ears above her own desperate gulps of air, somehow mocking her for her weakness, her vulnerability.

Her aching chest and weak legs forced her to stumble to the ground at a stream, bringing her frenzied flight to a halt. Her eyes focused on a blur of motion as a shape leapt overhead and easily landed on the other side of the wide stream rushing over the rocks. He emerged from the concealing shadows of the trees, and the moonlight illuminated the perfection of his face.

She wasn’t shocked to see him. She’d known all along what, or who, she ran from. The hard glint of a predator in his eyes, however, did freak her out. He was clearly the hunter…and she the prey. And as quickly as he had leapt across the stream, his eyes softened, smoothing the harsh lines of the huntsman into that of a different chase—a seducer.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that though he no longer chased her, she remained the prey. A shiver ran up her spine at the thought, and she watched him warily as her heart raced.

He flashed a grin at her, and she groaned as dimples appeared on both cheeks. As if the man were not hot enough, God had given him dimples.

Come on, man.

“Hello, Amelia,” he murmured. The name rolled off his tongue like silk. “I’ve been waiting here for you to return.”

“My name isn’t Amelia.” The hairs on the back of her neck rose, and she shuddered. “It’s Sabrina.”

“Sabrina? That’s a pretty name, too. It suits you.” He stalked toward her, and she shot to her feet and retreated. “But to me, you will always be my Amelia. Don’t run,” he said soothingly, his arm held out, palm up, to her. “Don’t be afraid. I’ve been waiting for you a long time. I’ll not hurt you. I promise to keep you safe.”

Though her every instinct shouted at her to run screaming through the forest, she stood rooted to the ground watching him as he nimbly jumped over the water and landed in front of her. She watched his eyes move as he studied her face before enfolding her in his arms tenderly. For a brief moment she felt…cherished.

Until he threaded his hands through her hair and crushed her lips beneath his. Breathing quickly became forgotten as his lips plundered hers, and she clutched his shoulders, desperate to hold onto reality. Her ability to think fled, as all her senses and thoughts were consumed by the man holding her.

But
was
he a man?

Men didn’t come to you in dreams
before
you ever met them in real life.

The thought sobered her as being doused with a bucket of cold water would have, and she jerked away from his kiss. His hands tightened painfully in her hair, and she whimpered in protest.

“Who are you?
What
are you?”

His gaze hardened. The hunter look returned to his face, and a shiver crept over her spine. Her mind shrieked at her, warning her of danger.

“You are mine, remember it always,” he whispered. He tore his gaze from hers and looked behind her head and cursed under his breath. He kissed her hard—rushed—and turned from her and ran.

Only the sound of her speeding heart and the eerie purple moon kept her company
.

***

The next week was filled with writing her current romance novel and decorating, and she didn’t leave her house. Until today, anyway. It was Friday, and she’d decided to take a trip into town for some shopping. Checking off the last item on her list, she groaned when her stomach growled. Time for a dinner break.

She, of course, knew where to go.

She parked in front of the tavern where she’d seen him in the flesh and hopped out of the car with bated breath. Would he be there? She absentmindedly threw a bill into the jar in front of the homeless man—sleeping, again—and entered the dimly lit room. She searched, but only the flickering light hanging over the middle of the room met her eyes. Disappointment crept over her even as she searched the room once more. As if he’d appear from behind the door and yell, “Boo!” To make it worse, no dreams had come all week, and she yearned to see him, to see if he actually existed. This was ridiculous in itself, because of course he didn’t.

Duh
.

When lingering over her dinner didn’t make him magically appear, she left the tavern heavy-hearted. Each footstep she took seemed harder than the last. She paused and considered the alleyway he’d appeared in the other day.

Could he be in there?

“Looking for him, miss?”

She jumped at the gravelly voice behind her, whirling to see who spoke. It was the homeless man—aware for once. Awake, he positively terrified her. Intelligence swam in his eyes, and that was all she could make out of him. The rest of his face was buried under hair and dirt.

She hesitated. “I’m sorry? Looking for who?”

“The tall bloke who came here last time you were, miss.”

“I thought you were sleeping.” Nonchalantly, she rested her hand on the mace hanging off her keychain—and found it missing…again.

His eyes followed her small movement. “I just see things, I do. And I saw him leave, and he watched
you
leave.”

“So he was there,” she said. “I
thought
I saw him in the alley!”

“Yes, miss. But right as soon as he saw you, he scattered like the rats that live there—always trying to steal my food, they are.” He shook his head and grumbled something too quietly for Sabrina to make out.

“Are you always here?” she asked.

“I live here, ma’am. Keep an eye on the place to make sure the wrong sort doesn’t get in.” His chest puffed out in pride. She refrained from pointing out most establishments deemed
him
the wrong sort. She knew he’d take offense at the remark and had no desire to hurt his feelings.

“Well, obviously you do an excellent job. Have you seen the man here again, recently?”

“Oh yes, he came here today. Looked real out-of-sorts, he did. Hiding in the shadows, searching for something. Methinks he seeks you.” His tone of voice held a sly tone to it, as if he were in on a secret she wasn’t.

She shivered and glanced toward the alley. “Is he here, now?” She searched the shadows, but sensed no movement.

“No, he left a few hours ago. You’re safe with old Zeke here.”

She fought down the apprehension creeping up her spine and smiled at Zeke. “Well, I’m going home. Keep an eye out for troublemakers, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s my job. Thanks for the money.” He tipped his battered hat at her. His hair stuck out in several threadbare spots where the fabric had worn away. “You are the perfect woman. Looks and a warm heart.”

She blushed, embarrassed by the praise. “Don’t mention it, Zeke.” She waved and got into the car to drive home, feeling curiously empty despite the full meal she’d ingested. She’d obviously gone insane. Why did this man haunt her so? Sure, he was ungodly hot—but did he have to consume her both night and day?
Ugh, time for some good TV.

An hour later, she sat absorbed in the gripping drama of a team of police searching for a killer before they lost one of their own. A thud outside her door caused her to lurch to her feet and gasp.

Holding a shaky hand to her pounding heart, she tiptoed toward the door, without consciously having made the decision to go there. She peered through the tiny peephole, and her breath caught in her throat when she saw a shadow in the trees. The shadow, eerily enough, seemed to
creep
toward her.

Anything that moved in the night like that couldn’t be a good thing. It crept far too stealthy, as if it were used to hunting things in the dark night. She watched the threat as it snuck closer to her house, afraid to make as much as a breath of a sound.