Page 44 of Shiver

She didn’t know how much time had elapsed before her knees buckled and she dropped into the mud. She hadn’t been able to shoot. Once the intruder had picked up his knife, he could have easily killed Riley. She hadn’t been strong enough to do what it took to protect him, to protect herself.

He had to be the man from the sketch…the man from herdreams. She should have told Riley about him earlier. If she’d told him that he’d chased her through the woods, maybe he would have been more careful. She had been so afraid he wouldn’t believe her. And because of that fear, he almost died.

Suddenly, she knew the devil was right—she could run, but she couldn’t hide. A sudden onslaught of bone-deep chills overtook her. She couldn’t stop him. It was as if she were thirteen years old all over again—alone and helpless, misunderstood, and without hope.

The tremors cascading through her grew with each passing second, with each passing thought. He would kill Riley, just like he had Tommy, because of her. Because death was her constant companion and anyone who came near her, anyone who cared about her, died.

She hadn’t seen Riley approach, but suddenly he was kneeling before her, prying the gun out of her hands. “It’s okay,” he said. “He’s gone. Are you all right?”

She stared at him and tried to make sense of his words. All right? She didn’t think she’d ever be all right.

The rain had matted down his hair and washed most of the mud from his face. He looked okay, except for a few scratches and an ugly red swelling on the side of his face. She wanted to wipe the blood off his cheek, but couldn’t quite bring herself to touch him.

“Thanks for the save.” He placed his hand over hers, and brought it to his cheek.

He was warm. He was alive. His touch was gentle, too gentle. Something broke within her and she was flooded with emotion. Tears streamed down her face.

“I was so scared. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t shoot him.”

“Shh,” he murmured. “It’s okay.”

“I’m so sorry. I did this. I brought death to your door.”

“I’m not dead. See, I’m right here.” His lips lifted in a small smile. “You’re not responsible.”

She shook her head. “He’s found me again. He always does. I have to go. I have to get out of here. Running, that’s all I can do.” Her shaking became violent.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him, rubbing his hands up and down her back. “You don’t have to go. We can fight him together. You’re not in this alone.”

Alone. His words reverberated in her mind. Of course, she was alone. She had always been alone. She clung to his chest. His warmth seeped into her skin, melting the ice in her veins, dulling the sharp edge of fear that was slicing through her ability to think.

He was so strong, yet gentle at the same time. She clutched his rock-hard arms as a fine sprinkling of rain fell upon them, cleansing them of the mud and the horror. She took a deep breath as her heartbeat slowed and tender warmth filled her. He smelled so good—rich, earthy, the scent of man. A man who could protect her. A man who could love her?

She was afraid to look up, afraid to meet his eyes. Afraid if she did, she’d see that she was fooling herself. That he didn’t care about her, wouldn’t be there for her, didn’t believe in her. Then she’d have to let him go.

And be alone.

And cold.

And scared.

Again.

“You should have run,” he said. “You shouldn’t have taken the chance. What if something had happened to you?”

“I couldn’t let him hurt you.” Her voice trembled as she said the words.

“Why not?” He lifted her chin, his gaze probing hers.

A shudder whispered through her. “Every other time the dreams…they came too late to help. Watching people die—” she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what could have happened to me, what matters is that nothing happened—”

He tilted his head, bringing his face closer.

Her gaze dropped to his lips. She tried to fight it, tried to force herself to look away.

“—to you,” she whispered.

His head dropped lower, his lips mere inches from hers.

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