Still staring at him, her expression like one of shell shock, she started to shake.
“Oh baby,” he said under his breath. He stroked her cheek. It was still cold and far too pale. “It’s okay, Jenna,” he said, knowing that whatever had happened to her was far from okay. Keeping his voice as soft and soothing as he could make it, he continued to reassure her, to stroke her. She was still staring through him, still shaking.
Very carefully, he reached down and gently slid her foot from his thigh to the ground. She didn’t even blink.
“Come here, Jenna.”
Confusion briefly flitted through her empty expression.
“Come here,” he said softly, and pulled at her arm.
“I couldn’t stop it,” she said, her tone as lifeless as her gaze. “I tried but I—” She broke off on a low moan, moving her head back and forth as her shaking increased until her teeth chattered with it.
T.J. didn’t wait for permission, he acted on instinct. If she fought him, they’d both pay, but he risked it without hesitation. He pulled her sideways and down until they were both on their sides. She didn’t fight until he wrapped his arm around her waist and tried to pull her into his arms.
“Don’t hit my knee.”
The unexpected directive worked, making her pause for a second. He took advantage of the moment and tucked her head into the curve of his shoulder. He pressed his mouth to the soft spot below her ear and spoke softly. “Don’t fight me, I won’t hurt you. Lie here and rest. It’s okay to rest here, Jenna.” When he felt her head relax, he shifted his hand to her back and began a series of long, slow strokes. “Shhh, it’s going to be okay.” He wished he were certain of that. He’d witnessed terror and endured torture and had both a healthy respect and a deep-seated hatred of the power the two wielded on the human psyche.
He wanted not only to protect her, but to destroy the cause of her fear. He had no explanation for the ferocity of his feelings, but he didn’t question them either. He also didn’t question the knowledge that if he let it, this anger, this need he felt could consume him.
His hands stilled for a moment, then he continued his quiet words and gentle touches, breathing a sigh of his own as her shaking gradually diminished.
Her body grew heavier, and her head began to loll as sleep overtook her. He silently prayed that the nightmare he’d unknowingly sprung on her wouldn’t stalk her into sleep. But she rested peacefully against him.
Pain jabbed viciously at his knee. He shifted slightly so he could look down at her. His pain didn’t diminish one iota, but he was suddenly less cognizant of it. He stroked one finger along the side of her face. It was still too pale and felt cool and clammy under his touch. He looked at her closed eyes, the thick lashes wet and spiky against her cheeks, and pictured the brown eyes hidden beneath. In his mind’s eye he watched them change, remembered the horror and anguish he’d seen there before they’d become lifeless and empty.
I couldn’t stop it.
What? he wondered. Had she hurt her ankle trying to save something, someone? Was the guilt her failure had burdened her with all self-imposed?
He stroked a finger along her jaw and stared at her lips. They were full and wide, a natural deep red that looked even richer now against her pale skin. A tiny smile curved his lips. She had a mouth on her too. His throat suddenly clutched, and his smile faded as he acknowledged how badly he wanted to taste that smart mouth.
He looked down the length of their bodies and his need escalated.
She fit him. It was as simple as that and as complex.
She had strength, both physical and mental. Her body was long, lean, and more hard than soft, which made the soft places she did have all the more erotic.
Maybe it was the combination of her obvious strengths and her well-hidden, but definite vulnerabilities that got to him.
He looked once again at her closed eyes and traced her eyebrows lightly, then he gave in to temptation and lightly brushed his fingertip along the fringe of her eyelashes.
“Whatever it is, Jenna King,” he whispered, “you make me want to slay dragons for you.”
He slowly lowered his head to the ground and tucked hers more closely against him. He’d like nothing more than to wrap his arms and body around her, to hold her as tightly as he could. She did fit him, in so many ways, and it was frustrating in the extreme not to be able to indulge in that experience. Her damp hair tickled his nose. He buried it deeper.
Patience, he thought as his eyes drifted shut. He tucked his arm more securely around her back. Patience.
It was the screaming that woke them up.
Jenna was already sitting up, wide-eyed with sleepy confusion, before she realized she’d just pulled herself from T. J. Delahaye’s most accommodating embrace. That more than anything brought her quickly and widely awake.
The scream came again.
T.J. rolled to his back, then froze. He swore under his breath, and Jenna knew he’d cramped up from lying on the damp ground.
“What in the hell is that?” he said through clenched teeth.
“Whatever it is, it’s in pain,” Jenna replied as calmly as possible. Inside her head was chaos. Not again, please not again. Hasn’t there been enough misery for one day? It was a useless query. The strange wail echoed again.
T.J. was slowly rearranging his body so he was flat on his back. Jenna very carefully looked away. The ground was still cold and damp, but her cheeks, hands, chest, and belly were warm. She knew the source of that warmth was the man stretched beside her. She was almost thankful for the continued wailing, as it prevented her from having to think back on how she’d ended up asleep in his arms.
“It’s not human,” she said, scanning the land along the side of the ravine. The pine trees formed a thick stand that ran parallel to it. She could see a good distance down the stretch of land that ran between, but there was no sign of anything unusual, man or beast. “I think it’s coming from back there somewhere,” she said, pointing into the trees at their right side.
The wail echoed again, sounding like part bleat, part growl. “Something caught in the flash flood, you think? I saw from the trail up there that there are small creeks and streams running all through here.”
Jenna shivered lightly. “We’re lucky this whole area didn’t end up underwater.”
The wail erupted yet again. She rubbed her arms. It was selfish in the extreme, but she wasn’t sure how long she could take listening to whatever it was suffer. Sleep had helped her regain some energy, but had done next to nothing to help her sort out her mental problems.
“I doubt it’s a wildcat,” T.J. said. “The noise would be ten times worse.”
Jenna doubted that was possible, but she refrained from commenting. She remembered most of what had happened earlier despite her efforts to block it out. She did block out the nightmare part, at least. The part that involved sleeping in T.J.’s arms was proving a bit harder to ignore. She knew it was exhaustion, both mental and physical, that had caused her to react the way she had. At least that’s what she was telling herself.
He probably thought she was a total fruitcake.
Right now what T.J. Delahaye thought of her was the least of her concerns. She should be thankful for the distraction. For once, he wasn’t asking questions.
The scream came again, and she swore out loud. It took more willpower than she liked to admit to keep from clapping her hands over her ears. “Whatever the hell it is, I wish it would stop.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
His response surprised her, even comforted her a tiny bit. Maybe she was normal after all, she thought. Anyone would react the same after what she’d been through. But the fingernails she was digging into her sock-wrapped palms put the lie to her reassurances.
“It’s hell not being able to do anything to help the poor thing,” T.J. said.
Jenna stilled. Help it? As in rescue? Dear God, no.
“Maybe if I—”
She
swung her gaze to his, hating the fear that balled up in the pit of her stomach. “Maybe if you what, Delahaye? You can’t even stand up.” He raised an eyebrow at the vehemence in her tone but didn’t look away. Don’t look at me like that, she wanted to demand. Don’t challenge me. You don’t know what you’re asking.
As if to underscore his patient stare, the wail changed to a low keening sound.
She swore under her breath. “I guess if anyone is going to find out what’s going on, it’ll have to be me.”
“You’re not in much better shape. Your ankle—”
“Is in better shape than your knee.” She stared right back at him. “We can’t sit here and let it suffer, isn’t that what you said?”
“No, it isn’t.”
She ignored him. It was his fault she had to take action. It had to be his fault. Without anger—specifically anger focused at someone other than herself—she wasn’t sure she could pull it off. That way, if you fail, it will be his fault too?
“Shut up,” she mumbled to herself. She spied a branch she could use for a crutch and began scooting toward it, pushing with her good foot.
“Jenna, wait a minute. Slow down here.”
She was already looking for another broken branch strong enough to support her weight. Her ankle was banged up and her leg was tight and unhappy, but the terrain was relatively even. She could do this.
She had no choice.
She simply could not survive being put through the emotional grind of helplessly listening to another living thing dying a slow, agonizing death.
Thankful for the socks padding her palms, she grabbed the branch and levered to a stand, refusing to consider what she would do if she failed once again.
FIVE
“Jenna!” T.J. watched as she hobbled toward the denser part of the bordering forest. She turned inward and was swallowed up by the centuries-old pines. He slapped the ground. “Damn her stubborn hide to hell.” His frustration was doubled by the fact that he wasn’t exactly in prime condition to race after her.
There was no telling what she’d find out there. Wild animals weren’t always predictable. Wounded wild animals never were. Jenna wasn’t stupid, but she wasn’t thinking clearly either.
There had been a flash of pure terror on her face when he’d mentioned helping the poor creature. Yet less than five seconds later, despite his warnings, she was storming off to save the damn thing as if it were her personal mission in life. Every time he thought he was closer to figuring out another piece of her puzzle, the piece would elude him.
She’d told him she was from Paradise Canyon, he assumed to rehab her ankle, yet he’d found her stranded on the side of a mountain with all her personal belongings strapped to her back in a laundry bag. She seemed quite capable and confident about handling herself in the wilderness, but she had no gear and no clear destination or means to get there. She displayed a deep core of inner strength, yet she was haunted by something that terrified her.
One thing was clear. Something was driving Jenna King, and T.J. was very much afraid that whatever it was had taken her right to the edge. He felt responsible for her current state, even though he’d had no way of knowing his concern would set her off.
I couldn’t stop it.
Her anguished words echoed in his mind. He muttered another curse. Stupid, Delahaye. Really stupid.
She’d taken his concern for the animal as a challenge. He didn’t know the source of her demons—yet—but one of them was definitely guilt. And he’d aimed her right at it.
Jenna paused and leaned against the trunk of a mighty Douglas fir. At any other time she would have taken a moment to absorb the power and beauty of her surroundings. Some of the trees were over eight hundred years old. But right now she was focused on the sound of pain.
And the feel of it. Her ankle was screaming. Gravity was wreaking havoc on the swelling. Holding her foot up was excruciating.
Despite the earlier rain, the entire area was seriously parched. Wildfires had ravaged the West all summer long, some still burned in southern California due to the dry, hot Santa Ana winds. Fire season was usually over by now in the north, but the unseasonably warm fall had kept firefighters busy. She looked around her. These magnificent trees represented some of the oldest growth in the country. And all this underbrush was a torch begging to be lit. One lightning strike and—
Like the wail of a siren, the keening noise suddenly rose to a high pitch, eerily underscoring the abruptly increased speed of her pulse. Shutting out any and all thoughts of forest fires, she once again moved toward the wounded animal.
Jenna knew enough about the area in general to have a good idea of what species of animals were likely to roam wild. And the sound she was hearing couldn’t be matched to any of them.
The high pitch lowered back down, the wail rougher and not as strong. She knew the fading sound meant the animal was growing weaker, not that she was heading away from it. The forest was no longer her “office,” but her sense of direction was still solid. She knew she was headed in the right direction, just as she knew she could navigate directly back to T.J.
His handsome face immediately flashed through her mind. He hadn’t been smiling when she’d left. In fact, she might have thought twice about going if she hadn’t been certain he couldn’t stop her on his own. The total assurance in his voice had surprised her. She’d seen a glimmer of it in his eyes, heard it thread through his deceptively soft, rumbling voice, but never had she expected such absolute command. He’d barked an order and had expected immediate compliance. It was obviously not the first time. She’d discovered another intriguing facet to him that tempted her curiosity.
“Damn the man,” she said softly. She didn’t want to care. She didn’t want him to make her wonder about him. But she had no idea how to keep him from doing so. By simply losing his temper, he revealed parts of himself to her she had no desire to know about. Dangerous parts.
She was beginning to realize that there wasn’t anything about T. J. Delahaye that wasn’t dangerous.
So don’t go back. Go get help instead.
She stopped cold. She had to go back. Didn’t she?
The highway she’d been headed for originally was completely out of reach now. She closed her eyes and visualized the map she’d studied at Paradise. There weren’t many main roads in this part of Jackson County, but there were back roads. And back roads led to main roads.
This was insane. She couldn’t just leave T.J. there. He’d be worried sick. But he wouldn’t die of worry, she countered. And it wasn’t as if he could go anywhere or do anything to hurt himself further. He was stuck right where he was until help came.
“And once again, you’re elected.” She sighed heavily. Talk about the lesser of two evils. Yes, he’d be angry and upset, but he’d be rescued. And she wouldn’t have to deal with him again.
It occurred to her that she wasn’t certain she could make it to a road. In her current condition, it would take hours. Possibly longer.
And if you don’t make it? She rubbed her arms and pushed away the nerve-destroying images that always seemed to haunt the fringes of her mind, waiting for even the tiniest sign that she’d relaxed her vigilant control so they could pounce on her. But what other options did she have?
If she’d had a chance to talk it over with T.J., surely they’d have come to the same conclusion.
Jenna knew damn well T.J. would never have let her go off alone in search of help, but he hadn’t “let” her go this time either. She should be feeling good about taking control of the situation, taking charge of the events that shaped her life instead of the other way around.
So why did she feel as if she was about to make her biggest mistake yet?
A sharp bleat followed by a gurgling growl jerked her from her thoughts. She bit off a curse. She’d forgotten to include the damned animal in her big plan.
She was close now, within a hundred yards or so, by her estimate. She had to find it, see what was wrong,
see if there was anything she could do to ease its suffering.
She felt the stirrings of a shiver begin deep inside her and immediately intensified her focus, knowing if she let go now, the ball of fear churning inside her would take over and paralyze her. Then they would all die.
Wedging the knobby ends of the broken branches under her arms, she continued to work her way through the brush toward the sound.
Less than five minutes later the forest ended abruptly. So did her search.
“What in the hell is that?” she muttered, then went silent and still as she took in the rest of the scenery.
She hung back between the last line of trees and surveyed the situation. Twenty yards below, down a relatively smooth slope, a narrow valley spread out before her. The tree line was a good quarter mile up, the land below was a charred graveyard of tree stubs.
Fire had struck here. She clamped down on the queasiness that pitched in her stomach and forced herself to focus on the remains in an objective manner. The fire had happened this season, a few months earlier at best. Her hands shook slightly, and her forehead beaded with sweat that made her feel cold and clammy, but she continued to scan the damage. She forced a slow breath in then back out before turning away.
A small creek bed freshly swollen by the rain wended its way through the valley floor. It had likely been what had saved the forest on her side.
Unfortunately, the creature now stuck in the oozing silt and muck left behind as the waters receded hadn’t received the same protection.
The animal was lying down, its head tucked low and turned away from her. The blackish-brown, sticky-looking silt and ash mud that matted its clumpy hair made it impossible to identify. Its body was the size of a large dog, but its legs, what she could see of them all mired in the muck, were long and slender. A young mule deer maybe? She stepped from the trees as it swung up a long graceful neck, tilted its little head back, and let out a mournful howl that had her murmuring, “Poor baby,” without being aware of it.
Light My Fire: A Loveswept Classic Romance Page 5