She looked down at the evidence of the cuts on her hands and arms. "Yes I do."
"No, you want to please me, just like you want to please your sisters, but you stand up and do whatever the hell you want to do when you want to do it. I'm getting gray hair, I ought to know."
Hannah frowned. Did she? She didn't know anymore. Her life had changed dramatically in seconds. She touched the terrible wounds on her face and neck, but avoided touching her breasts. She still saw every imperfection in her body, every extra pound, and now there were terrible, gaping wounds in her flesh. Jonas had cupped her breasts, looked at her as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world. She couldn't bear the memory of him looking at her so reverently, so lovingly.
Abruptly, she caught up her blanket, and took refuge on her balcony. Although the sun had already set and it would be difficult for a photographer to get a clear picture of her, she slid the blanket like a hood over her head to keep her face in the shadows.
Jonas followed her with a small frown. He had never been all that good with words when it came to Hannah. He was certain he could charm the birds out of the trees when it came to others, but Hannah turned him inside out and made him an idiot. He hated that she was hurting. Every instinct, body and mind, wanted to protect her, wanted to make it all better, but he had no idea how. He was fumbling his way, making mistakes and losing his temper.
Restlessly, he went to the railing to get a better look around them. There were no nearby buildings where anyone could lie on rooftops with rifles, but someone could get an angle from the bluff. The strong winds constantly shifting over the cliffs would make the shot extremely difficult, though. There were probably only a few dozen men in the world who could make that shot and he doubted if any of them had a grudge against Hannah.
"I'm safe up here. The wind would warn me."
Jonas looked out over the water, noting the rocks. Boats couldn't get too close and the waves were too strong and choppy. Again, it would be difficult to get a good shot.
He leaned one hip against the railing and looked down at Hannah's bent head. She still wasn't really looking at him, hiding her face in the blanket. He didn't want her hiding from him. She'd stood openly in front of Ilya Prakenskii, the wounds stark and raw on her pale face and neck, yet she hid from him. The lump in his throat was choking him and the wind was bringing in sea salt, burning his eyes.
"You know I'm not going to let you get away with this. What were you doing packing a bag?" He kept his gaze fixed on her face. She'd never been good at hiding her emotions from him.
Hannah pulled the blanket closer around her, obviously trying to shield her expression from him. "I just need a little space."
Jonas sat on the railing and swung one foot back and forth, letting silence lengthen and grow. The sea birds called to one another as they flew in lazy circles overhead, one occasionally darting down to disappear into the sea before popping back up with a fish on his way back to the rock where he'd perch for the night. The ocean tumbled and rolled, a thunderous music ebbing and swelling in the background.
He let out a sigh. "You're lying to me again, Hannah." He leaned forward to capture her elusive gaze with his. "Do you think I'm going to let you get away with it just because you have a scar or two?"
She touched the unsightly lines on her face again with her fingertips. "I'm not asking you to. It isn't your business, Jonas."
His eyebrow shot up. "Really? You're not my business?" He snorted derisively. "You've been my business since kindergarten. Why did you pack a bag, Hannah?"
Sparks leapt in her eyes and her white teeth snapped together with a bite of temper. "I'm protecting my sisters—and you." Angry with him, she blurted out the truth and was instantly sorry.
He should have known—should have guessed. Hannah who thought she was such a coward. There was a curious melting sensation in the region of his heart. He crouched down in front of her and framed her face with both hands, leaning in to brush his mouth over hers. The softest of contacts, barely there, just a whisper of his lips over hers.
Hannah pulled back, blinking away tears. "You can't do that anymore. Please, Jonas, just go."
He sank back on his heels, studying her distressed expression. "You know me better than that. Start talking, Hannah, and it had better make sense, because you and I both know, I'm not letting you walk out of here alone. You want to leave, we'll leave together, but you're not going anywhere alone."
"I can't be with you. I just can't. You have to accept that it's my decision."
"Not on your life, baby."
"Jonas. God. Why can't you just let it be? Look at me. I can't look at myself without feeling sick." The admission was made in her soft, husky voice, but the whisper of secrecy created an intimacy between them. "I can't bear for you to look at me like this. And I'd never, never want to be seen with you in public."
"Oh for God's sake." Exasperated, he glared at her. "Are you kidding me?"
"Jonas, you're very good looking and you're well known around here. You hold a political office. You ran for sheriff and you were elected. Can you see us side by side? Poor Jonas with his freak of a girlfriend."
"You aren't doing this, Hannah."
"It's the truth. I can't walk outside without photographers wanting to snap my picture and plaster it all over the gossip rags. With you, I'd be in all the newspapers. I do have some vanity and some pride."
"I'm not listening to this crap." He stood, for one moment looming over her, throwing a dark shadow across her face, his jaw set, his mouth in a hard line, then he simply scooped her up and cradled her against his chest, sitting in her chair, holding her on his lap, blanket and all. "You're so silly sometimes, Hannah, you make me crazy. I don't give a damn what people say. I never have."
He kissed the corner of her eye, pushing the blanket back, so he could rub his chin over the top of her silky curls and kiss her eyebrow, blaze a path to the corner of her mouth, skimming the angry red slashes with tiny butterfly kisses as he went. His mouth settled on hers with exquisite gentleness. Her lips were soft and full and trembled beneath his. Her answering kiss was tentative, reluctant, so he kept coaxing her, nibbling at her lower lip, teasing the seam of her mouth with his tongue, brushing his lips back and forth over hers, tugging with his teeth until she gave in and opened her mouth to his.
He poured everything he was into the kiss, giving her love and tenderness and support, mixing it with desire and heat and raw need. His palm settled around the nape of her neck, fingers finding the treasure of platinum and gold corkscrew curls, holding her still so he could explore her mouth. He was careful, gentle, never letting his passion have free rein, never allowing it to carry him away. Her chest and ribs and stomach were covered in wounds and he took care not to rub against her skin although holding her wasn't enough.
Hannah's mouth was warm and moist and tasted like she did, honey and spice and ultrafeminine. He could spend a lifetime kissing her. At first, she was passive, allowing him to kiss her, but as he coaxed, she began to come to life, breathing with him, tongue tangling with his, sending delicious little licks of electricity singing through his veins. With great care, he brought her closer, angled her mouth for a deeper, more satisfying kiss.
Her lips heated, softened, clung to his. His body turned to steel, hard and hot and so alive he could feel lightning arcing through his bloodstream and heard thunder in his ears. His palm cradled the nape of her neck, and he shifted her just a little so she would fit more comfortably in his lap. He had her trapped, but was careful to make her feel safe, not captured. Loving Hannah wasn't easy. She was always on the verge of taking flight, almost as if she was afraid of the intensity of passion he roused in her.
One hand slid down her spine, a slow journey of discovery, while his mouth tried to sate an ever growing desire. Lust was sharp and deep, mixing with love, so full he couldn't tell where one started and the other left off. Hannah was an explosive mixture of exotic, innocence and pure unadulterated sex. She mo
ved and he was instantly riveted. It didn't take much. Even her new voice seemed erotic to him. Hannah fit with him. He'd known on some level even when they were kids, that she was the one. She was made for him. He kissed her again and again. Soft, gentle kisses, hard, hungry kisses, probing and exploring her heated, passionate mouth.
Hannah moved against him restlessly, her body in meltdown, her need of him shifting from mental to physical. His mouth seemed to be devouring her, yet she wanted more, wanted to be closer, wanted to feel the heat of his skin beneath her hands and mouth. She was so selfish. It was always about her. Her wants. Her needs. She was putting Jonas in danger, just as she was putting her sisters in danger by staying there. Abruptly she lifted her head, aching with wanting to hold him close, afraid she didn't have the necessary courage to let him go.
"Jonas…" She was going to have a panic attack. She was. Again. Right in front of him. She couldn't catch her breath.
Couldn't think with the thundering beat of terror in her ears and fear pounding through her body. She hated the insidious weakness that crept up and pounced whenever she was certain she could be strong. It stole too much of her life away, it took her ability to function and reason.
"Don't say it, baby, please." He rested his head against hers. "Let it be for now." He dragged in a hard breath, trying to bring himself back to reality.
She was getting ready to bolt. Hannah was pulling back, away from him, and it had nothing at all to do with arguing. She was so determined to protect them all, she was making herself sick. And if she had one more panic attack and fell apart in front of him, he was going to pick her up and carry her off where no one else would ever find them, just like a caveman. It was going to happen.
Jonas pushed down his own panic and kissed her mouth and forehead, gently pulling back himself. He set her on her feet as he stood, holding out his hand to her, determined not to lose her. "I swear, Hannah, you're thinking so much, smoke is coming out of your ears. Just stop. Let's stay outside together until you're too tired and I'll lie down with you. If you're afraid of that, I'll go sit out there on the bluff again and spend another night in the cold."
Hannah hesitated, and then slowly stretched out her hand until her fingers lay in his palm. He tightened his hold instantly, not giving her time to change her mind. The air was cooler as the breeze blew in from the sea, bringing salt and mist and the taste of the ocean. He'd much rather lie beside her warm, soft body, even if it meant his own would be hard and painful, than spend another night worried while he sat on the bluff watching from a distance.
"I knew you were out there. It made me feel safe."
"You are safe with me." He wrapped her back in her blanket to shelter her from the heavier wind. When she sat down, he pulled his chair close to hers. Leaning forward, he framed her face with his hands and looked directly into her eyes, capturing her gaze so she couldn't look away. "I know you're scared, baby, but that's not being a coward. We have something special between us. You can't let this madman take it away."
Hannah couldn't help herself. In spite of her resolve to protect him, she leaned close, putting her head on his shoulder, and snuggled into him. "I know we do, Jonas. I just don't know what to do about it." She pressed her lips against his neck and sat up again, pulling back.
"I do," he answered. "I know exactly what to do."
She wasn't touching that. Instead, Hannah drew her knees up and stared out over the ocean, where the sun had already sunk into its depths. Earlier, the sun, looking like a giant red beach ball, glowing with promise, rays streaking out with orange and red bolts as it tipped, had seemed to pour molten lava into the churning waves. The entire sky had been layered in bright, vivid color. The sunset was always so beautiful, but she loved this time of day, just as night and day met and passed, like two ships out over the sea.
The sky darkened slowly, as if a blanket was slowly drawn over it. Clouds drifted lazily and stars glittered like gems. The moon, in whatever stage it happened to be in, gleamed a beautiful silver, spilling its light across the dark waves. Peace reigned.
Jonas had deliberately kept her out here, out where she could breathe freely and without too much worry. He had noticed her quickened pulse, her labored lungs and the desperation building in her. She thought she'd been clever hiding it, she could always hide from everyone—but not Jonas.
Hannah rubbed her forehead. Her face itched and burned, but if she touched it, the sensation was worse. She felt revulsion in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't bear to look at her face in the mirror and she had no idea how much longer she could continue to face Jonas feeling so broken. She stretched out her hands to him for evidence. They were shaking.
Jonas caught both of them and brought them to his mouth, his lips tracing the slash marks. "Give yourself time, Hannah, but don't think you can shut me out. I'm not about to let you go."
"I'm trapped here now, Jonas. I can't go out in public. I can't remember what I might have done to make someone hate me so much. I can't make love to you ever again…" Her voice broke and she snatched her hands back, bringing the blanket up around her face to cover her sob. "I hate this—this self-pity. I promised myself I wouldn't do it, but I have to stay away from you. If I see you, Jonas, it's so much worse. I can't see you."
He felt raw inside, torn open with his guts spilling out. He dropped his face into his hands for a moment, trying to clear his brain, trying to allow himself to think clearly. He took a deep shuddering breath and straightened his shoulders. "You're confused, Hannah, and it's understandable. Fortunately for both of us, I'm not. You need me, whether you think so or not, and I know damn well I need you."
He waited until she looked up at him. "I do, Hannah. I never thought I'd look at a woman and know she's the reason the sun comes up in the morning, but you are."
"What if they hurt you? Or my sisters? Jonas, what if some madman takes a knife and comes at you in the dark? You just turn around and he's slashing you. Saying 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' but cutting you into little pieces. I couldn't bear that. I really couldn't. I'd rather give you up and have you stay alive—unhurt."
Jonas's head went up alertly. "What did he say?" He reached out and pulled her hands away from her face. "Look at me, Hannah. He said something to you?"
She frowned, trying to remember. "I'm so tired, Jonas, and I can't think straight when I'm tired." She glanced inside at the bed. "I'm afraid to lie down."
He tamped down impatience, his thumb sliding over the backs of her fingers, stroking her sensitive skin. "I am, too. Nightmares are no fun." He tugged her hand, determined to get her to lie down on the bed with him and rest. She was exhausted, sitting up night after night. Perhaps it had been a mistake bringing her home from the hospital so soon. At least there, they could have knocked her out so she could get some rest.
"Come on, baby, I'm not taking no for an answer and you're too tired to argue with me when you know you won't win." He tugged at her hand, taking her with him back inside her bedroom.
She went with him reluctantly, settling beside him, insisting he keep the French doors open. Jonas wrapped his arm around her waist and held her close. She was stiff at first, but slowly, as he nuzzled her neck and pressed kisses into her hair without attempting anything else, she relaxed against him, her body soft and feminine.
"I'm hurting my sisters. I hate it. I can feel them all the time now—except Elle. She stays away from me. She doesn't want to intrude on my privacy. But I feel so horrible because I can't go back to the other me."
She leaned into him more, fitting her body closely with his, brushing his groin with her bottom and sending an electrical current racing through his bloodstream. Jonas gritted his teeth and breathed.
"Can you feel them? The house is filled with grief and sympathy and confusion. I've done that, Jonas, and I don't know how to undo it."
He brushed kisses over her eyebrow and down along the savage wounds to the corner of her mouth and then to her throat. "You didn't do it, a man with a knife did i
t. We love each other, all of us, Hannah, and we'll be stronger when we come out of this. He can't destroy our family. Your sisters will give you whatever you need to cope with this, and they'll cope in their own way. They don't baby you because they think you can't handle it, they do so because they want to show you love."
"Why do I get so upset with them?"
There was desperation in her voice. Jonas shifted her against his chest, so that her head rested on his shoulder and he could wrap both arms around her. "Anger is a part of recovery and all of us are here, close to you. Someone hurt you, Hannah, traumatized you, you're going to be angry one moment and afraid the next. That's natural and we all expect it."
"I don't—didn't. I'm ashamed that I can't stop hurting everyone."
His hand slid over her hair, tangled in the silky strands.
"Go to sleep, baby, and let me worry tonight. Your sisters are gathering to aid you. I can feel the surge of power in the house. When you wake up, your wounds won't be quite so raw and hopefully you'll feel a little more at peace."
Hannah allowed her eyes to close as she inhaled, dragging Jonas's scent into her lungs. He felt, smelled and tasted so familiar to her. Safe. Strong. So Jonas—and he was right. She felt the rise of feminine power, strong and sure and loving, all directed toward her. Tears stung her eyes and wet her lashes. No matter how upset they were, her sisters reached out to her with love and healing.
"I love being a Drake," she whispered.
"I do, too," he answered and brushed another kiss along the nape of her neck.
Chapter Thirteen
JONAS came awake, fully alert. It had taken hours for him to drift off, too aware of Hannah beside him. Her sleep was fitful, her body moving constantly and her arms flailing as if defending herself. She cried once, breaking his heart. He lay in the darkness, stroking her hair and murmuring softly to her until she calmed. Now, he lay in the dark with the butt of his gun snug in his palm, his finger on the trigger, listening to her soft moans of distress, his stomach in knots.
[Magic Sisters 05] - Safe Harbor Page 21