Page 67 of Darkness Bound (Night Prowler 5)
I wonder if I could float? I bet I could float . . . I wonder if I could fly?
Hawk was looking at her with a combination of amusement and concern.
“And I do like you,” she sighed, smiling as the last of the pain leaked out of her body, replaced by wonderful, spreading pleasure, soft as a cashmere blanket. “You’re very . . . what’s the word I’m looking for?”
His eyes darkened. The smile fled from his face and he sat staring at her in silence, his brows drawn together, jaw clenched.
“Broody,” she pronounced. “You’re very broody. You’ve got that whole James Dean/Mr. Darcy/Marlon Brando thing nailed. And you smell good. And you taste like the lottery. I mean, what I think I’d feel like if I won the lottery. Does that make any sense? Euphoric, that’s the word. Or euphoria, maybe? I’m not sure, my brain seems to be taking a little trip to the twilight zone at the moment. Either way, I like you a lot, which is a problem, considering you lied to me, used me, and basically totally screwed me over.”
She beamed at him, happy and pain free and just about as relaxed as she’d ever been.
Was it another effect of the nasty barnyard brew that made her think his breathing had changed? His posture had stiffened?
“Although since we’re being honest here, I have to admit I understand the motivation. You thought I was a major bitch. Which, let’s face it, I gave you good reason for. Plus you sort of apologized—actually you did, right? I think you did anyway, which counts. And you were all protect-y of me in the jungle—is that a word?—with Nando and those other guys, and you seemed really freaked out at the punishment tree, like you didn’t want to see me get hurt. And you offered to take twice as many lashes if Alejandro would let me go, which is totally chivalrous.
“So I don’t know. I’m in a pickle. I’m supposed to hate you but instead I think you’re interesting and soulful and smart, and probably the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And that’s not even getting into how incredible you are in bed—I mean, I thought we were going to light those sheets on fire—or the fact that I know you have just as many skeletons in your closet as I have in mine, and you hate to admit it just like I do, which makes us alike. Also . . . you’re the only man I’ve ever known who makes me forget about my fucked-up past. When you look at me, I feel . . . clean. Free of all the dirt, you know? As for being unworthy to wipe my shoes on, don’t sell yourself short. Any woman would be lucky to have you. Hell, any man would be lucky to have you! And even though in hindsight it was probably a stupid thing to do, I would do it again, you know. Offer belu. For you, I would.”
Jack inhaled a breath that felt cool and invigorating, like night air from an alpine woods. She’d never felt as free and careless, even if the room had become fuzzy around the edges and the only thing still sharply in focus was Hawk’s face.
For some reason his expression was that of a man fighting hard to remain in control.
“This stuff is amazing! What is it? I’m seriously feeling no pain!”
“I suspect it’s different than what I thought it was, but I’m glad your pain has gone.” His voice was oddly raspy and constricted as if he’d recently spent a good deal of time screaming.
“So gone!” Jack whistled. She lifted her head from the pillow, and gingerly stretched the muscles in her back, lifting her arms slowly overhead. Feeling nothing, she tried a tentative roll onto her side, and when that produced no pain, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up.
“Careful!” Hawk barked, shooting to his feet.
Smiling broadly, Jack looked up at him, but he’d averted his gaze and his face had gone red.
“Jacqueline. You need to . . . uh . . . I had to cut your bra away from your shoulders . . .”
Jack looked down at herself, surprised to see her breasts exposed, but unconcerned about it. Somehow being seminude in front of Hawk felt exactly right.
“Right. Thanks.” She stood, and the shredded cotton fell to the floor. She announced, “I have to pee. And brush my teeth. And I’m hungry. And what is that pretty thing hovering outside in the tree? It’s huge!”
Hawk looked where she was pointing. He turned back to her, alarmed. “That’s a dragonfly. It’s only two inches long.”
“Really?” Jack squinted at it. “Huh!”
“Okay.” Hawk took a breath, shook his head, and crossed to a polished wood dresser on the opposite side of the room. He withdrew a gauzy, white chemise, and returned to her side, holding it up between them like a shield. “Turn around. I’ll help you put it on.”
She complied.
“Hold your arms up.”
She did, asking, “Why do you have women’s clothing in your drawers?” The stab of jealousy was profoundly unwelcome in her lovely haze of happiness. “Is that Luiza’s?”
“No.” He threaded her outstretched arms through the the dress. “It’s yours. I had it made for you when I found out you’d be staying with me. Everything you need is here.” He dropped the dress over her head and she pulled it down around her waist, turning to look at him as she did. She swayed as the whole room turned with her, and Hawk steadied her with his hands on her shoulders, simulta-neously frowning and wide-eyed, which made her giggle.
She unzipped her jeans and shucked them off, leaving them on the floor. “Bathroom? Or do I just pee out the window?” The horror on his face made her giggles turn to laughs.
He simply pointed. Jack turned slowly, arms out for balance, and crossed the room. It was open and bright, with spare, streamlined furnishings, the “walls” consisting of a waist-high wooden railing and nothing else. The jungle was dense all around and she had the sensation of flying through green clouds as she walked.
Whatever this stuff is, I’m going to bottle it and bring it back to New York. I’ll make a killing. The excruciating pain in her back from when she’d awoken was utterly numbed.
The bathroom was a surprise. She’d been half expecting a hole in the floor, but there was a proper toilet and a beautifully carved wood sink on a pedestal, though no shower. And no mirror. Which she was thankful for when she touched a hand to her hair, as snarled as jungle tree roots atop her head.
