Tempt Not the Cat

by J. C. Wilder

  His lips moved but no sound was issued.

  So be it.

  Chapter Three

  The storm hit with a vengeance.

  Erihn scrambled to shut the sliding door in the bedroom, the cool rain stinging her arms. She caught a glimpse of Fayne wrestling with the hot tub cover. The wind worked against him as he tried to lock the cover holder into place.

  Popping the lock on the door, she dashed out of the bedroom and down the steps. The windows were shrouded in a veil of heavy rain as torrential winds slammed against the house.

  She slid on the glossy foyer tiles as she scrambled around the newel post and ran down the hall and into the sunken living room, heading for the French doors and the deck beyond. The doors swung in the breeze and, beside them, lay their discarded clothes where Fayne must have tossed them. The wind stole her breath when she stepped onto the maelstrom.

  “What in the devil are you doing out here?” Fayne yelled.

  “Helping you,” she yelled back. Staggering against the slashing rain, she reached the hot tub and grasped the edge of the padded cover. Together, they slid it into place then secured it.

  “Get into the house. I have to put the umbrella down.” He pointed to the picnic table umbrella that was about to topple over the edge of the deck.

  Erihn nodded. The deck was cold beneath her bare feet as she made her way to the railing. The glorious sight of Vail Valley was hidden in a heavy curtain of clouds and falling rain. The rippling rivers and twisting highways were obscured, leaving the house alone with the storm. She grabbed the rail as a strong gust of wind slapped at her. It tugged her clothing and whipped her hair about her face.

  Joy bubbled in her throat as the fury of the storm broke around her. Thunder crashed overhead and she felt its power invade her very soul. Tipping her head back, she laughed as the rain pelted her upturned face.

  Rapture.

  As a child, she’d loved to run into the storms. Many times, her mother had come after her and hauled her back inside. Running about in the rain simply wasn’t done in their family. The Spencers were rigid in their social behaviors, running and laughing in the rain wasn’t part of their makeup. Her mother had worked hard to rid Erihn of her disgraceful wild streak.

  Mother hadn’t totally succeeded.

  Erihn released the railing and held her arms out as if to embrace the storm. The wind lashed her sodden clothing and joy sang though her veins. She was one with the fury of nature, and, for the first time in many years, she let the storm take control.

  She’d almost forgotten the joy of receiving absolution from the forces of nature. How sad that she’d forgotten something so important in life.

  “Are you insane?” Rough hands grabbed her and she squealed as Fayne’s arm encircled her waist. He hugged her close to his body and pulled her away from the railing and toward the door. They wove a tortuous path across the deck and made the journey without incident until they reached the doorway.

  Her toes, numb with cold, slammed into the doorjamb, throwing her off balance. She gave a squeak when she and Fayne tumbled through the door. Quick as a cat, he switched their positions so she ended up on top and he took the brunt of the fall.

  Erihn landed on his chest with a whoosh, her elbow digging into his stomach.

  Wind whipped into the room from the open doorway, but Erihn paid it no mind, so intent was she upon the man beneath her. She uncurled her fist, laying it on his upper chest. Her arm was twisted between them, hampering her movements.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled, trying to rise. His hands clamped around her shoulders, halting her progress. Startled, she looked into dark eyes.

  He was furious.

  “What the devil were you thinking?” he ground out.

  “N-n-nothing. I was enjoying the storm.”

  “Enjoying the—” He bit off the rest of his sentence to scowl at her.

  Oh, that mouth. She quivered as her gaze dropped to his lips. Yearning rose in her chest as she looked at him sprawled beneath her, water streaming onto the carpet from their wet clothing. She wanted to taste him, just a little taste…

  Erihn leaned into him, her hair sliding off her shoulders to surround them in a sodden curtain. She brushed her lips against his.

  Once.

  Twice.

  A low growl sounded from his chest and his grip tightened on her shoulders. Startled, she pulled away. What had she done? Appalled, she fixed her gaze on his chin. She couldn’t look him in the eye.

  “I-I-I’m sorry.”

  He released her shoulders. Gently he stroked his palms down her arms, then up again before moving to her back. He caressed her, moving in long sensuous sweeps that curled her toes. She wanted to purr beneath his knowledgeable touch.

  She risked a glance at his face.

  His expression was heated. “I’m not sorry at all.”

  Without warning, he gripped her arms and pulled her toward him until her lips were once again on a level with his mouth. His breath mingled with hers, caressing her skin and teasing her senses. His eyes glowed with an inner fire as they fastened on her mouth. She licked her lips nervously.

  “I guess I’ll have to show you how it’s done,” he purred.

  Warm and commanding, his mouth covered hers, his tongue licking at the seam of her lips, demanding entrance. A moan was born as she opened her mouth and his tongue ventured forth to tangle with hers. His taste, white wine and warm man, inflamed her senses. Licking and retreating, he teased her senses until she clung to him, wanting more of his magic.

  Restlessly she moved, trying to get closer to appease the ache centered low in her stomach. His tongue tangled with hers and she captured it between her teeth then gently sucked. He tensed beneath her, something akin to a purr escaping him. The vibrations of his chest sent a wicked thrill of pleasure through her.

  If this ecstasy was wrong, she never wanted to be right again.

  A loud crack of thunder shook the house and broke them apart.

  Dreamy-eyed, Erihn stared at the man beneath her. His dark gaze scorched her skin, his lips parted as he panted for breath.

  “We’re getting wet.” His voice sounded raspy and harsh.

  “I already am,” she sighed. She wanted more of his kisses, more of anything he was willing to dish out.

  He laughed.

  Erihn froze. What had she said? As the implication of her words hit her, mortification streamed over her like a pitcher of ice water. How could she be so brazen with any man, let alone a complete stranger?

  Embarrassed, Erihn scrambled off him and staggered to her feet. What must he think of her? One minute, she wanted nothing to do with him and the next she’s pawing him like some sex-starved nymphomaniac.

  “I’m really sorry.” She met his gaze head-on and strove for a cool tone. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  He rolled to his feet, his movements supple, graceful. He impaled her with his gaze and her heart gave a queer little jerk. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, Erihn. I wanted to kiss you as much as you wanted me to.”

  She looked away from his disturbing eyes, her gaze moving to the bulge in his jeans. He was aroused, very aroused. She dropped her gaze to stare at his knees. Knees were harmless enough, weren’t they?

  “I can’t hide what you do to me, Erihn. Nor would I want to hide it.”

  She started to shake, and she backed away from him toward the steps. “This will never happen again.”

  “Don’t make reckless statements you won’t be able to abide by, kitten. You’ll only be embarrassed later.”

  Erihn looked him straight in the eye. “I d-d-don’t make idle threats,” she stammered as the shivers began in earnest. Her cold, wet clothing sapped the warmth of her body. She was freezing.

  “Go upstairs and change before you catch your death of cold. We can talk after you’ve warmed up.”

  Numb, she weighed her choices. She could take the easy way out and escape now, or she could force him to talk to her and make
him understand that what just happened on the living room floor would never happen again.

  She opted for the easy, first choice. Wasting no time, she turned and escaped up the steps into the hallway. As she moved from his sight, she broke into a run.

  Hunger finally drove her from her lair.

  Cautiously, Erihn opened the bedroom door. The tick of the grandfather clock was the only sound in the oppressive silence. Where was he? Had he gone downstairs to bed? Her palms were damp with perspiration by the time she stepped from the sanctuary of her bedroom onto the landing. The faint scent of rose potpourri and wood smoke teased her nose.

  She paused at the top of the steps, the suffocating silence of the house ringing in her ears.

  Creeping down the steps, the banister cool beneath her fingertips, she moved warily, ready to dart back upstairs at any sign of Fayne. The faint crackle of a fire reached her ears. Was he in the living room?

  A tremendous crack of thunder startled her and shook the house. The lights flickered, once, twice, then failed.

  Erihn clutched the banister and froze as the house plunged into darkness. Panic slammed into her chest, stealing her breath as the oppressive darkness fell, surrounding her like a woolen cloak. Her heart pounded, the sound filling her ears as a cry locked in the back of her throat. Her knees gave way and she clutched the spindles of the railing as she slumped to the steps.

  She couldn’t bear it. She hated the darkness. She screwed her eyes up tight and broke out into a sweat. She tried to remember what her therapist had told her to do when she was confronted with a panic attack.

  Breathe.

  Keeping her eyes closed, she forced herself to sit up straighter and relax her grip on the spindles.

  Inhale through the nose.

  Exhale through the mouth.

  Inhale…

  Exhale…

  Inhale…

  Soft footsteps sounded in the hallway below. Her breath caught with a strangled gasp, her throat frozen. The rustle of clothing, then the clank of metal hitting the floor reached her ears. She opened her eyes. She could see nothing in front of her then something slithered on the edge of her consciousness then lay still, waiting.

  A mild curse, the rattle of keys and the sound of footsteps making progress toward the stairs had her muscles tensing. He was coming for her. A whimper broke from her frozen throat and the steps halted.

  Silence.

  “Erihn?”

  No, not again, her mind screamed. She longed to flee up the stairs, but her muscles remained frozen in place.

  “Erihn, are you okay?”

  With the faint creak of the lowest riser, the past collided with the present.

  “You know how it angers me when you try to hide, bitch.”

  Erihn crouched at the top of the wooden steps. The old, warped door against her back was nailed shut from the outside. How long had she been imprisoned here in the darkness? A few days? A week? She had no idea. All she knew was that she had only one chance to escape.

  She tightened her grip on the sturdy nail she’d managed to work from the rotting wood of the steps. Coated in blood from her abraded fingertips, the metal was slick and she didn’t want to take a chance of losing it in the blinding darkness. Weakened by lack of food, taking him by surprise was the only possible way to regain her freedom. This might be her last chance.

  A muffled grunt sounded below as her captor searched the confines of the old cellar where he’d imprisoned her. Luck was with her when she’d barely managed to knock the flashlight from his hands, breaking it. The floor was damp and uneven in spots, making it treacherous walking in the dark. She smiled bitterly. She’d had lots of time to explore her prison on her hands and knees, and she knew every inch of it by heart.

  A crash told her he was nearing the far corner of the cellar. She shifted slightly, careful to keep her hands an exact distance apart so the links of the handcuffs didn’t rattle and give her position away. She knew he’d find her, it was only a question of when.

  The thump of a foot kicking her plastic dinner bowl marked her captor’s place as he worked his way toward the steps. Erihn tensed. Her thighs, scaly with dried blood, strained to remain perfectly still. Her breathing was shallow by the time the monster reached the bottom of the stairs.

  “I know where you are and I’m coming to get you.”

  The stairs creaked as the monster advanced toward her. He hummed a soft tuneless melody, which grated on her nerves, but she refused to flinch. It was now or never…

  Icy fingers brushed her ankles then closed around them, yanking her off balance. Erihn dropped the blanket she’d been clutching around her nude body and her feet were pulled from underneath her. Her backside landed on the highest riser while her head hit the door with a crack. Stunned, Erihn cried out as her tormentor yanked her down several bone-jarring steps.

  She kicked a foot free and aimed for where she thought his crotch might be. Her foot hit spongy softness and a whoosh of air escaped him. His grip slackened and she rolled to the left, trying to reach the side of the steps.

  All at once, two hundreds pounds of enraged male landed on her. A cry was wrenched from her lips when strong fingers caught her chin, slamming her head into the stair. Stars exploded in her vision as the fingers shifted to her throat.

  “You bitch! Do you think you can leave me? I’ll tell you when you get to leave…”

  Fingers dug into her throat as he spoke, cutting off her air supply. Within seconds, the darkness wavered and flickering white sparks appeared. He was going to strangle her and she had only seconds to make her move. Gathering the last of her flagging energy, Erihn clutched the nail and swung her arm, connecting with his shoulder.

  Her tormentor emitted a bellow and his fingers lost their grip on her throat. Gasping for air, Erihn swung again, this time connecting with a fleshy part of his body. He reared, trying to move away from her, squealing in pain. She relinquished the nail and struggled to free herself from where his body held her pinned to the stairs. He shifted and, suddenly, she was free. She tried to slide down the stairs, but fingers tangled in her hair, halting her progress and bringing tears to her eyes as they yanked her upright.

  “Where are you going so fast, little girl?” he taunted. “We aren’t done playing just yet.” He rose, forcing her to her knees on the steps. “But first, I need to give you this, and I want you to scream for me. You remember how much I like that, don’t you?”

  A swift blow to the ribs caused her to collapse on the steps, her uneven panting sounding abnormally loud in the stillness of the cellar.

  “Don’t…you…ever…try…that…again…” He punctuated each word with a vicious kick to her body.

  Erihn clung to the edge of the stairs, her head swirling as she longed to lose consciousness. She tasted blood on her lips when she bit them to prevent herself from crying out. As long as she had strength in her body, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream for mercy.

  He crouched down beside her. “And before I forget,” he placed his hand on the small of her back. “This is for trying my patience.” With a shove, he sent her tumbling off the side of the steps into the abyss.

  Fayne thought his heart would break when Erihn went limp beneath him. The tigress who’d attacked him on the stairs lay subdued, fine tremors running through her body as she whimpered softly, her face pressed into the carpeting.

  He held his breath as he tried to catch what she was saying.

  “…lightlightlightlightlightlightlightlight…”

  “Erihn, I’m going to get you a candle. Can you hold on for a minute?”

  She didn’t answer. He levered himself off her body, poised in case Erihn decided to fly at him again. She didn’t stir. Her strange mantra, muffled by the carpet, continued. His keen night vision swept over her still form. She didn’t appear to be hurt. Maybe she was a sleepwalker?

  Growing more alarmed by the minute, he scooped her into his arms and the mantra stopped. Straigh
tening, he carried her up the steps and into the master bedroom that she’d just exited.

  “I’m going to set you on the bed, Erihn. Then I’m going to get a candle.”

  He settled her in the bed and she immediately rolled to her side, curling into a fetal position. What the devil was wrong with her?

  Glancing around the room, he spied an array of candles on the fireplace hearth. Muttering thanks under his breath, he selected the largest candle and located a book of matches. He lit it before carrying it over to the bed.

  He breathed a sigh of relief as the golden glow roused Erihn from her stupor. She rolled toward the light, her face waxy pale as she stared transfixed at the flickering flame. She reached for it, but he stopped her before she plunged her hand into the fire and burned herself.

  She continued to stare transfixed at the light until, gradually, she became aware of him. She turned, her dark eyes haunted and empty. “More?” Her voice was whisper thin.

  “You want another candle?”

  She nodded in a jerky, uncoordinated fashion before returning her rapt gaze to the single flame. Fayne put the candle on the nightstand before retrieving more candles. He lit them and placed them strategically around the room until every corner was lit.

  Turning, he watched her. Erihn sat on the bed, staring at her hands, holding them out as if they were sticky or dirty. She looked at him and he saw the revulsion and confusion in her gaze. He took a step forward and was surprised when she shook her head as if to stop him from approaching her.

  “I have to wash it off,” she whispered. Careful to keep her hands away from the white linens, she rolled off the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. He heard her turn on the water. He picked up a candle and stepped into the doorway to make sure she was okay.

  Erihn stood bent over the sink, soaping her hands frantically. She raised her head as he came in and set the candle on the vanity. He was struck by the despair in her eyes.

  “It won’t come off,” she whispered.

  Fayne looked down at her wet hands. They looked clean enough to him. “What did you get on them, Erihn?”