Page 69 of Javier

“You were having a nightmare,” I explained yet again. “You were thrashing and moaning, and—”

“I almost killed you.” He shifted his stare from me, to the knife he still held in his hand, and back to me, before he clenched his jaw. “Don’t you know any better?”

“I thought that maybe I could help—”

“Youdo notsneak up on a sleeping soldier—”

“I didn’t sneak up—”

“You’re reckless.” A muscle feathered in his squared jaw. “You know that?”

“I was trying to help,” I shot back.

“Up.” He put his knife away, stalked to me, and lifting me as if I were but a rag doll, stood me up on my feet. “There. That’s better. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking so much,” I admitted. “I was feeling your pain and I couldn’t stand to see you so upset, so—”

“You put your life at risk and almost forced me to kill you for no reason at all?”

“No,” I said, and then, “yes, I guess.”

“Missy…” He ambled to the railing, rubbed his forehead, and raked his fingers through his hair. “Never approach me when I’m having a nightmare. I can’t be responsible for my actions if you startle me. Are we clear?”

“I’m sorry if I startled you,” I said. “It was never myintention.”

He scrubbed his eyes. “Apology accepted.”

“Well, good, thank you, but…”

“But what?” he asked, his body humming with impatience.

“You owe me an apology as well.” I straightened to my full height. “I was trying to help, and you scared the living daylights out of me. It’s not my fault that you’ve got hyperactive reflexes and can kill someone in your sleep.”

That did it. He looked mortified now.

“I’m so sorry.” He stepped up to me, and taking my hand, examined my wrist. “Did I hurt you?”

The wince twisting his face made me go easy on him. “It wasn’t too bad.”

The concern flashing in his eyes softened my heart and satisfied the part of me that needed to stand up for myself. It also went a long way to differentiate his reactions from those of my father.

Regret glimmered in Javier’s gaze. His reaction tonight had been instinctive, automatic, a reflex. Whereas Father’s actions had always been deliberate and calculated to deliver the most hurt. Father had always gloated after crushing my self-esteem. He’d then deny his actions and accused me of being a scaredy cat, a wimpy girl, and a worthless, snotty brat.

Javier had done none of this. He looked embarrassed and repentant. He’d taken responsibility for his reaction. Most importantly, Javier did something Father never could. He recognized his mistakes and wasn’t afraid of apologizing.

My heart softened and my breaths came easy.

He kept a hold of my hand, rubbing the red marks on my wrists very lightly, sending prickles of pleasure to tease me, awakening my every nerve ending to the fact that he was within kissing range.

Then he did the sweetest thing. He lifted my wrist to his lips and kissed my hand softly in apology. “Please, Angel, forgive me.”

“I understand,” I murmured. “You were upset.”

I fought not to melt beneath his pleading gaze and the touch of his mouth, but I couldn’t avoid the internal meltdown that liquefied the space between my legs. The warmth of his mouth rippled through me for a while after he released my hand.

Suppressing a sigh, I held on to my wits and studied his guarded face. “Do you have nightmares often?”

“No.” He grimaced. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

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