into the cabin.
“Okay, I was wrong,” she said, throwing up her hands. “You can jump tall buildings in a single bound and catch bullets in your bare hands.”
“Bare teeth,” Nevada said without looking up.
“What?”
“You catch bullets with your teeth.”
“You may,” she retorted, “but I’m not that stupid.”
“The hell you aren’t.” Nevada lifted his head and pinned her with a cougar’s pale green glance. “You’re alone in the middle of a snowstorm with a man who gets hard every time you lick your lips. And you trust me. That, lady, is damned stupid.”
<< 5 >>
Sensing that something was wrong, Eden awoke with a start. In the silent spaces between gusts of wind, she heard a man speaking in broken phrases, fragmented names, snatches of language that had no rational meaning. But they made sense emotionally. Someone was hurt, trapped, dying
.
And it was happening over and over again.
Nevada.
Quickly Eden sat up and looked across the hearth to the place where Nevada had set up his bedroll and mattress. The room was so dark that she could see only an outline, a darker black that indicated Nevada was still there. The cold in the room was the penetrating chill of a winter that would not release the land into spring’s life-giving embrace.
Without leaving her sleeping bag, Eden stirred the fire into life and added fuel. Flames surged up, bringing light and heat into the room. A swift glance told Eden that Nevada was only half-covered, restless, caught in the grip of fever or nightmare or both.
Eden unzipped her sleeping bag and slid out. Her double-layer, silk-and-wool ski underwear turned aside the worst of the chill, but the floor was icy on her bare feet. Silently she knelt next to Nevada, watching the contours of his face emerge from the darkness as flames licked over the wood.
A combination of stark shadows, black beard, shifting orange flames and physical tension drew Nevada’s features into lines as harsh as they were compelling to Eden’s senses. His torso was lean, muscular, highlighted by tire and midnight swirls of hair. He wore no shirt, nothing to keep the cold at bay.
Eden knelt at Nevada’s side. As she had earlier in the day, she put her hand on his forehead to gauge his temperature.
The world exploded.
Within the space of two seconds Eden was jerked over Nevada’s body, thrown on her back and stretched helplessly beneath his far greater weight while a hot steel band closed around her throat. In the wavering light Nevada’s eyes were those of a trapped cougar, luminous with fire, bottomless with shadow, inhuman.
“Nevada
” Eden whispered, all she could say, for the room was spinning away.
Instantly the pressure vanished. Eden felt the harsh shudder that went through Nevada’s body before he rolled aside, releasing her from his weight. She shivered with the cold of the cabin floor biting into her flesh, and with another, deeper cold, the winter chill that lay at the center of Nevada’s soul.
“Next time you want to wake me up, just call my name. Whatever you do, don’t touch me. Ever.”
Nevada’s voice was as remote as his eyes had been.
“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Eden asked after a moment, her voice husky.
“What?”
“Touching. You haven’t had enough of it. Not the caring kind, the warm kind, the gentle kind.”
“Warmth is rare and temporary. Cruelty and pain aren’t. A survivor hones his reflexes accordingly. I’m a survivor, Eden. Don’t ever forget it. If you catch me off guard I could hurt you badly and never even mean to.”
Eden closed her eyes and shivered against the icy cold. Suddenly she felt herself lifted again. She made a startled sound and stiffened.
“It’s all right,” Nevada said calmly. “I’m wide-awake now. Turn your face toward the fire.”
The difference in temperature between the floor and Nevada’s bed was disorienting. Eden let out a broken sigh of relief at the warmth and turned her
“Okay, I was wrong,” she said, throwing up her hands. “You can jump tall buildings in a single bound and catch bullets in your bare hands.”
“Bare teeth,” Nevada said without looking up.
“What?”
“You catch bullets with your teeth.”
“You may,” she retorted, “but I’m not that stupid.”
“The hell you aren’t.” Nevada lifted his head and pinned her with a cougar’s pale green glance. “You’re alone in the middle of a snowstorm with a man who gets hard every time you lick your lips. And you trust me. That, lady, is damned stupid.”
<< 5 >>
Sensing that something was wrong, Eden awoke with a start. In the silent spaces between gusts of wind, she heard a man speaking in broken phrases, fragmented names, snatches of language that had no rational meaning. But they made sense emotionally. Someone was hurt, trapped, dying
.
And it was happening over and over again.
Nevada.
Quickly Eden sat up and looked across the hearth to the place where Nevada had set up his bedroll and mattress. The room was so dark that she could see only an outline, a darker black that indicated Nevada was still there. The cold in the room was the penetrating chill of a winter that would not release the land into spring’s life-giving embrace.
Without leaving her sleeping bag, Eden stirred the fire into life and added fuel. Flames surged up, bringing light and heat into the room. A swift glance told Eden that Nevada was only half-covered, restless, caught in the grip of fever or nightmare or both.
Eden unzipped her sleeping bag and slid out. Her double-layer, silk-and-wool ski underwear turned aside the worst of the chill, but the floor was icy on her bare feet. Silently she knelt next to Nevada, watching the contours of his face emerge from the darkness as flames licked over the wood.
A combination of stark shadows, black beard, shifting orange flames and physical tension drew Nevada’s features into lines as harsh as they were compelling to Eden’s senses. His torso was lean, muscular, highlighted by tire and midnight swirls of hair. He wore no shirt, nothing to keep the cold at bay.
Eden knelt at Nevada’s side. As she had earlier in the day, she put her hand on his forehead to gauge his temperature.
The world exploded.
Within the space of two seconds Eden was jerked over Nevada’s body, thrown on her back and stretched helplessly beneath his far greater weight while a hot steel band closed around her throat. In the wavering light Nevada’s eyes were those of a trapped cougar, luminous with fire, bottomless with shadow, inhuman.
“Nevada
” Eden whispered, all she could say, for the room was spinning away.
Instantly the pressure vanished. Eden felt the harsh shudder that went through Nevada’s body before he rolled aside, releasing her from his weight. She shivered with the cold of the cabin floor biting into her flesh, and with another, deeper cold, the winter chill that lay at the center of Nevada’s soul.
“Next time you want to wake me up, just call my name. Whatever you do, don’t touch me. Ever.”
Nevada’s voice was as remote as his eyes had been.
“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Eden asked after a moment, her voice husky.
“What?”
“Touching. You haven’t had enough of it. Not the caring kind, the warm kind, the gentle kind.”
“Warmth is rare and temporary. Cruelty and pain aren’t. A survivor hones his reflexes accordingly. I’m a survivor, Eden. Don’t ever forget it. If you catch me off guard I could hurt you badly and never even mean to.”
Eden closed her eyes and shivered against the icy cold. Suddenly she felt herself lifted again. She made a startled sound and stiffened.
“It’s all right,” Nevada said calmly. “I’m wide-awake now. Turn your face toward the fire.”
The difference in temperature between the floor and Nevada’s bed was disorienting. Eden let out a broken sigh of relief at the warmth and turned her
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