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She loved him.
His own vision blurred. He took one last, deep thrust, and when he called out her name, it was with the fierce determination of a warrior.
She was his, and he would kill any man who tried to take her from him.
* * *
He left her only to dispose of the condom, get the thermal blanket from his gear and spread it over her, then stoke the fire. A pair of owls hooted to each other; somewhere in the distance, an animal howled. There’d once been wolves in this wilderness. Maybe there still were.
By the time he lay down again and gathered her into his arms, she was asleep.
He drew her closer.
He loved holding her. He loved being with her. He loved everything about her and though it came close to scaring the crap out of him, what he truly loved was her.
What kind of fate or destiny, karma or whatever you chose to call it had brought her to him under such seemingly impossible circumstances?
Yeah, but nothing was truly impossible.
He was living proof, otherwise he’d still be in New Mexico, maybe working with horses or, more probably, holding down a job at a mine.
Annie burrowed closer. He stroked his hand up and down her back. Despite the blanket, her skin was cool. He dropped a light kiss on her hair and gathered her against him.
She made another of those little mmm sounds.
He’d told her he didn’t want to hear her story. Not true. He not only wanted to hear it, he needed to hear it. Why had she pretended to be somebody she wasn’t? Why had she left him? And what was this stuff about her uncle? The self-appointed king, Cyrus? The guy sounded like a stand-in for a wicked stepmother. It was a lousy metaphor, but so what?
She needed help and he’d come close to letting his ego keep him from helping her.
And then there was what she’d said about Suwaith. An invasion?
Dec yawned.
He was bone-weary. And hungry. She had to be hung
ry too.
Okay.
Twenty minutes of shut-eye and he’d get up, get dressed, go and check on the horse—one of the best early-warning systems on the planet, as far as he was concerned. Then he’d wake Annie, open the MREs, and then—and then—
And then, he was asleep.
* * *
Something woke him.
A snort. A low whinny from the horse.
Dec sat up.
It was still dark; the fire had burned down to coals. He could barely see a foot ahead of him.
He waited, listening, every sense on alert. An ominous silence filled the night. No insect sounds. No distant howls or hoots.
The hair on the back of his neck rose.
Somebody was out there. And, yes, now he could hear something moving through the high grass.
