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Once Stacy was in bed, Laurie grew restless. Nothing she read penetrated the fog in her brain. More often than not, she found herself staring at Damien as her mind conjured erotic fantasies. She dreamed of him and woke every morning craving him.

This particular morning, six days after their arrival in the woods, was no different. She woke to early daylight with Damien in her mind and in her heart. She dressed quickly but lingered to stare uncertainly out the window. Dark clouds obscured the sun and she sighed.

When the aroma of strong black coffee drifted up to the loft, her mouth watered and she headed downstairs. Damien sat at the end of the table. Steam rose from a mug in front of him. He stared at her, his face blank, as she poured a cup and sat across from him. Alarm bells rang in her head. She had not seen that carefully blank expression on his face since their first night in the cabin.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded, tightening her fingers around the handle of the mug.

She studied him carefully through narrowed eyes, taking in every nuance of his demeanor. He was tense, alert, but that was not unusual. But there was an air of urgency about him, of secrecy that confused her. His gaze bored into her and she knew.

“They found him, didn’t they? They found my father.” Her words barely above a whisper, she continued to stare at him. Hope mingled with relief. Maybe now she could take Stacy home.

“Yes,” he replied tonelessly. “He’s still in Mexico, still with the terrorists. Now we can take him.”

Something flickered in his eyes then disappeared but he maintained his impersonal scrutiny of her. She read nothing of his thoughts. But she had realized early on that his carefully blank expression meant he was not telling her everything. Dread churned her stomach as she watched and waited.

“I have to leave,” he finally said. “Someone will replace me. In a couple of days you can go home.” Another brief flicker of something flashed in his eyes.

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That impersonal declaration disappointed but did not surprise her. She knew instinctively what the next phase of his mission entailed.

“You’re going after him.” Her unwavering stare held his.

He raised an eyebrow but made no denials. He did not say a word. Restless with sudden anxiety, Laurie pushed the chair back and crossed to the window. Leaning her shoulder on the wall, she stared into the forest. The day was cloudy, dark with the threat of heavy rain, maybe even a thunderstorm as gloomy as she felt.

“I want to see him,” she stated abruptly, her breath momentarily fogging the window. “I want to see my father. I need answers. I want to go with you.”

He did not reply. She stewed for a moment then turned, afraid to look at him, and returned to the table. She sipped her coffee and finally lifted her gaze to meet his.

He shook his head, his expression hard and unrelenting. “No. You are not walking into the middle of this operation just to blow off steam. We will get him and I will not let you screw it up.”

She caught that strange flicker in his eyes again. What wasn’t he telling her? He dropped his gaze to the tabletop and stayed silent. Her stomach churned more as she eyed him intently.

Things were obviously more complex than Damien was leading her to believe. With everything no doubt classified, she did not expect his full confidence. He told her only what he deemed it necessary for her to know. Grumbling in exasperation, she drained her cup and left the table.

Laurie fixed breakfast for Stacy and Damien but, not being hungry, she went outside. The cold damp air struck a chill but she ignored it as she wandered across the clearing. She stepped between two huge trees and wrapped her arms around her waist. Her sweatshirt was not enough to ward off the chill. Cold shivers shook her but she only leaned against a tree, her forehead resting on the trunk. Her mind spun with what little she knew. Her father’s capture was imminent. Damien was leaving

And she did not want him to go. When, she wondered, had she fallen in love with him?

Yes, she acknowledged, love. Lust was easily ignored and faded quickly. Love lasted a lifetime.

She turned her head and looked back at the cabin. Love also hurt when it was not returned. Damien wanted her. He left her in no doubt of that. Her lips tingled with the memory of his kisses. Her body throbbed with the need for his possession. And her heart ached for his love—the one thing she would never have from him. She could have him in her bed but not in her life.

Tears welled in her eyes and she turned blindly back to the tree. She crossed her arms, leaned on the tree trunk, and let the tears fall. When they subsided, she sniffled, wiped her eyes on her shirtsleeve, and drew in a steadying breath.

Something warm covered her back and shoulders. Gentle hands covered her shoulders.

Damien. She almost sighed.

“It’s cold out here,” he murmured gently as he turned her to face him. She blinked and stared at his chest.

He shifted his jacket to drape over her shoulders and snapped the collar closed. His knuckles brushed her throat. Sizzling bolts of need shot into her and she stumbled back against the tree. He skimmed a knuckle up her throat until he tipped her chin. She looked into his concerned eyes as they searched her face.

“Crying?” he said softly as his finger traced the path of her tears.

She shook her head in denial. His heat swamped her, warmer even than his jacket that carried the sheer male scent of him. She shuddered but not from the pervading chill of the ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening

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approaching storm. He took one step, slid his arms around her, and pressed her closer to his hard chest. It seemed he surrounded her, drew her into his enervating heat. And, oh, how she wanted to stay there, wrapped in his arms. A heavy sigh escaped her and she tilted her head to look at him.

His eyes were dark, dangerous, and compelling. Something even darker, even more dangerous lurked in the depths of that relentless gaze. Her heart lurched then pounded erratically in her chest. He shifted, his arms tightening around her for a brief moment before he slid his hands to her waist. She was caught, trapped, between the tree and the hard length of him. The rough bark pressed into her back. His erection pressed into her. His eyes glittered with a feral hunger that sparked a raging fire deep inside her.

“Jesus,” she groaned, unable to pull her gaze from him.

She flattened her palms on his chest. He was so warm under her hands, hands that curled into fists clutching his shirt. Instead of pushing him away, she dragged him closer. He gripped her hips and pulled her into his heavy arousal. Drowning in dark chocolate pools, she squirmed against him. Her lips parted on a shuddering breath and his mouth covered hers. The sharp vicious hunger, the frantic need for him, slapped her hard.

A ragged groan erupted from deep in his throat. She swallowed the low sound, the very breath that uttered it.
Can’t do this
, she warned her wayward body. But the warning was weak.

He plunged his tongue past her lips, stroking and exploring, taking what he wanted. Logical thought rapidly dissolving. She struggled to remember why she could not have him, why she could not let him take her into this vicious, glorious passion.

There’s a reason
, she thought frantically as his mouth relentlessly devoured hers. When she thought she’d never breathe again, he dragged his mouth from hers. His lips raced hot and moist to the shell of her ear.

“I want you,” he growled softly.

Want.
The word stunned her, slapped her. He wanted her. He didn’t love her. She jerked her head back, smacked the tree so hard bolts of lightening exploded in her brain.

“Oh Jesus.” She sucked in a rasping breath. Her heaving breasts brushed his chest. Desire warred with pain in her head. She uncurled her hands from his shirt and shoved half-blind from that inadvertent smack of sense into her head.

“No,” she sobbed in denial, of herself as well as him. “No, please.”

He released her so fast she stumbled into the tree again. Short, shallow breaths rushed in and out of her lungs. She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed a groan of misery.
Not again
, she reminded herself. She turned and stumbled into something else hard but very warm.

“Laurie!” The sharp crack of Damien’s voice thundered in her ears. His hands gripped her upper arms and halted her floundering escape.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Anger and uncertainty mingled in his tone.

Her eyes snapped open and she gaped at him. He stood rigid, holding her in place. The harsh planes and angles of his face were stark in the gloomy pre-storm atmosphere crackling around them. She sucked in air, let it out, and inhaled again. The hard glint in his eyes sent shivers along her spine.

He dropped his hands from her as though she scorched him. He stepped back from her but that relentless penetrating stare bored into her.

“Damien, I …,” she began.

“Save it,” he barked stonily. “We’re burning daylight. We’ve got one last full day of training ahead of us. We’re wasting time.”

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He stalked off toward the cabin. Laurie stared after him, shocked at that very abrupt change of attitude. It staggered her mind and stung her heart because she loved him.
He doesn’t
want love
, she reminded herself forcefully,
just sex.
She gulped in air in an effort to steady her heart and her head. Finally she trudged after him.

She spent the rest of the day in abject misery, and not entirely because of the nasty weather. As morning turned into afternoon, she slowed down. Damp cold clawed into her despite her sweatshirt and jacket. Damien was relentless. Driven by some inner demon, he hounded her mercilessly.

Sharp commands and barked orders, relentless drills or outright yelling that barely stopped short of verbal abuse, irritated her. As if the drill sergeant behavior was not monstrous enough, he alternated yelling at her with a fierce coldness that first puzzled then angered her. She stewed in her cloak of misery until fury finally got the better of her and she turned on him. He moved behind her, slid an arm around her neck, and tightened his hold.

Incensed by his impersonal touch when her system had gone completely haywire, she slammed her elbow hard into his gut. The air burst from his lings in a harsh grunt, but he did not release her.

“Damn it,” she muttered and grabbed his arm, just above the elbow. Shoving her hip into him, she flipped him hard on the ground. She stood over him, her feet planted firmly by his shoulders, and met his stony glare. Reluctant approval gleamed in his eyes.

“Enough,” she declared through clenched teeth. “I’ve had enough of you.”

Drawing his gaze like a magnet, her chest heaved with each ragged breath she forced into her burning lungs. She deliberately ignored his focused stare, the flash of desire in his eyes, as she stepped over him and stormed back into the cabin. Slamming the door behind her with a loud crack of wood on wood, she relished her brief sense of savage satisfaction.

“Mommy?” Stacy had her crayons and coloring books scattered across the table. She bit her lip, her eyes anxious. “Are you mad? Did I do something?”

The ache started at the back of her neck, little pricks of tension that rapidly spread. She pressed her fingers into her temples, struggling for the calm that had become more difficult with each passing minute of the horrible day.

“No, I’m not mad at you,” Laurie said as she crossed the room.

“Damien?” Stacy demanded, as though she had to defend him.

Laurie shot an involuntary glance out the window. Damien sat where she had left him, beneath the tree, and stared at the cabin. He was obviously stewing over something. Judging from his fierce scowl, his thoughts aggravated him. She drew in a deep breath and let the anger slowly fade. But she did not feel friendly toward him at the moment. He was leaving. Could she trust his replacement as she trusted Damien?

The only sound during dinner was Stacy’s hesitant, subdued chatter. Tension escalated, crackling between Laurie and Damien like the fire in the woodstove. It would only take a simple spark to ignite a conflagration. Thunder rumbled in the distance, echoing through the forested mountains.

Laurie glanced up into Damien’s speculative stare and swallowed hastily. Was the impending storm brewing outside the cabin as dangerous as the one simmering inside these wooden walls? Fierce hunger darkened his eyes as the storm darkened the sky. She lowered her gaze to her plate but squirmed under his intense perusal. Anticipation sizzled along every nerve in her body. Her appetite fled in favor of a more base hunger and she pushed her plate away.

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She sat back in the chair, crossed her arms over her breasts, and struggled to ignore the growing sensations spiraling through her body. It was almost impossible not to fidget, not to stare openly at him. Having been held by him, touched by him, kissed by him, it was ridiculously easy for her imagination to slip deeply sensual images into her head. Words of highly erotic descriptions charged through her mind as she surreptitiously studied him beneath her lashes. He frowned at his untouched plate.

Was he worried about his mission? Or was he sulking that she had avoided personal disaster? It had been a very near thing. She had been so close to surrender, to letting him take her against that tree despite the weather. Those images sizzled in her head, scrambled her pulse, and shot desire into the stratosphere.

He looked up, straight into her eyes. Her face flushed hot at being caught in her own erotically savage fantasies. His eyes went dark, almost black at what she knew he saw in her eyes. His gaze held hers. Unable to look away, she wondered again how their relationship might have progressed under different circumstances. With a wistful sigh and monumental effort, she banished those thoughts and her highly sensual fantasies. As much as she loved him, wishing was a useless endeavor.