Somewhere to Dream (Berkley Sensation) (23 page)

“That’s it. Breathe now. You’re okay. Just breathe. Now don’t you cry. You need to worry about breathing, not crying. You can cry later.”

CHAPTER
35

A Soft Place to Fall

Slowly, after much coaxing, my breathing returned to normal, though my ears still felt as if something had been stuffed into them. I lay flat on the uneven ground, staring at him, delirious with relief. I was alive. The worst had not happened. Had I allowed the dream to finish way back when it had started, I would have seen Jesse save me. I would have known things would turn out all right. And now he looked down at me with such tenderness I was hard-pressed to behave when he told me not to cry.

When he saw my colour return to normal, he slid one hand behind my neck and helped me sit. The blanket started to slide off, and I grabbed it and pressed it hard against me. I used one edge to wipe the blood from under my nose and caught a whiff of the material as it passed. Jesse. It smelled like Jesse. I smelled horse and dust and trees and his own sweet sweat. It wasn’t a blanket after all. It was his shirt. He’d torn it off so he could cover me.

Jesse’s father lay unmoving beside him. I couldn’t see more than his back, but a dark puddle seeped from behind. I turned away.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

His frown was incredulous. “You’re
what?
Why?”

“Your father. If I hadn’t come here, you wouldn’t have had to—”

Jesse drew back, looking as if he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. “Don’t you ever apologize for that. Thomas Black was a snake who got what he deserved.” He glanced behind at the body, then grimaced and turned back toward me. “He shouldn’t have touched you. It’s me who should be sorry.”

We watched each other in silence, then I shivered. Night was closing in, and the forest was getting dark. A chill cut through the shirt he’d layered over me.

“Wait a moment,” he said, then got up and rustled around in the forest.

I curled around my stomach, wrapping my arms around my knees. My body still throbbed on the left, where Thomas had struck me, just under my ribs, but it didn’t feel as if he’d broken any of them.

Jesse returned with his arms full of sticks. He heaped them on top of dried grass, leaves, and a pale fungus I recognized as coming from the bottom of a birch. His flint struck, sending cheerful sparks into the dusk. A spot of orange appeared and was almost entirely swallowed up by a puff of gray smoke from the wet leaves. Jesse crouched low, breathing life into the young fire and adding sticks when it was capable of catching. I shivered again and drew nearer to the little flames.

Jesse stood and plodded toward the lump of his father’s body. I watched him squat and look down at something—a memory, I imagined, and hoped he had at least one happy time he could bring back. I looked away. When he returned to the fire I noticed he wore his father’s shirt and Thomas’s haversack was slung over his shoulder.

“I’ll move him out of here as soon as I get you a little warmer.”

The light of the fire helped, but warm? I doubted I could ever stop shivering, and it was only getting worse. It wasn’t just the chill of the night. My body shook in reaction to what had happened and what
could
have happened. My teeth chattered hard enough that it would have been difficult to speak, had I any words that needed saying. I didn’t. I couldn’t think of a thing. As the fire caught, Jesse looked across it at me, the orange glow against his face showing his worry, then taking it away as the fire jumped and fell. He came back to me, then we sat, side by side, staring at the growing flames.

“Your poor head,” I said, touching the side of his skull Thomas had struck against the rock. Blood had painted half of Jesse’s face a ghoulish red, flickering black in the firelight. When I touched its sticky source, he flinched.

“I’ve had worse,” he mumbled. “I got a thick skull.”

“We should go to the water, clean you up—”

“Let’s just sit, all right?”

I wiped my arm across my face, then smiled as he did the same. “Look at us. We’re a mess,” I said.

His eyes searched mine, asking without saying a word.

“I’m all right,” I whispered.

He looked into the flames, which had grown into a respectable fire despite the wetness of the wood. When he looked at me, his eyes were so sad my heart threatened to break.

“Adelaide, I feel awful for what happened. I don’t know what to say,” he said. “Or what to do next. God, Adelaide, I should have been paying attention. He almost . . . When I think of him hurtin’ you, I just . . .” His fingers curled into claws, and he combed them through his hair for the hundredth time. “And now, well, the thing is, I don’t know how to comfort you. I’m afraid to touch you,” he admitted softly.

I pressed the side of my arm against his, trying to tell him I not only wanted but needed his touch. If only his strength could somehow work its way into my mind. I rested my cheek against his shoulder, which seemed to surprise him. He drew away at first, then wrapped one arm around my shoulders so that I was closer to him. We stayed like that awhile, both of us aware of my shivering as it subsided and eventually dwindled to tremors. They travelled down my body and pulsed against the pain in my stomach. I felt heavy all over and let my weight sag against Jesse. My eyes closed. I craved sleep.

“You tried to tell me this would happen, didn’t you?” he asked quietly. His voice rumbled through his chest, a pleasant vibration against my cheek. I nodded. “How? How did you know?”

I hadn’t used my voice in a while, so I had to clear my throat before I could answer. The words came out softly. “I told you. I dream.”

“Then . . . if you knew it was coming . . .”

I shrugged, the movement a monumental effort. “I couldn’t have stopped it. I knew you and I would be there, that it would happen. I know it’s hard to understand, but there was no way we could
not
be there.”

His chest rose and fell as he breathed. I rode the soft swell and felt completely at ease. I could stay here forever.

“So . . . did you know you would end up here, with me?”

“No. I never saw the ending.”

“Huh.” He shifted against me, and I felt the soft press of his lips on the crown of my head. “I like that. It’s like I’m the happy ending.”

The fire shot a spark into the dark, and I sighed, content.

“I’m so tired, Jesse,” I said, yawning despite my need to talk with him.

“Of course you are. Quite a day.” He’d carried a pack with him, as had I, so we were each able to pull out a blanket. He laid one out and rolled the pack at one end for a pillow. He was looking at me, watching my reaction. How I wanted to lie down, to rest, to forget for a while. But the memory of strong male hands on me—

“I’ll sleep on the other side of the fire,” he said gently. “You can have my blanket. You’ll be safe and warm.”

I followed the magnetic pull of the earth. I lay on my side, drew my knees toward my chest, and closed my eyes. Jesse covered me with a blanket, then leaned down to kiss my cheek.

“Good night, Adelaide.”

Tears threatened immediately. “I don’t want to be alone,” I whispered.

Without a word, he lay behind me, his body curled against mine. He covered us both with the blanket, then wrapped one arm possessively around my waist. He tugged me tightly against him, where it was warm and soothing and filled with love.

“Good night, my Adelaide,” he whispered, and I fell asleep.

CHAPTER
36

Welcoming the Demon

He was still beside me in the morning, but the arm that had held me so tenderly was now flung out to the side. Jesse lay flat on his back, mouth slightly open, breathing deeply. The blankets had fallen into a lump between us and over me so that he was uncovered. I propped myself on one elbow and gently pulled the blankets over him again, examining the lines of his face, the long lashes, the slight upward curl at one edge of his lips while he slept.

He was rugged, to be sure. A man who had seen—and caused—violence. His face, still relatively young under bristled cheeks, bore scars of experience, but the overall shape of his face was kind. Soft, almost. Life had been hard, but he wasn’t. Not unless it was called for, anyway. I recalled the metallic set of his eyes the night before, when he’d pressed death against his father’s forehead. I hadn’t seen those eyes when the gun went off, since I’d been doubled over in pain, but I imagined they had changed again, becoming harder still.

A pillow of soft curls was trapped behind his head, their colour a shade or two lighter than I knew his eyes to be. One loose curl had taken up residence in the middle of his forehead. Another flicked like a wayward wing just behind his ear, and I touched it without thinking, wanting to feel the spring of it under my fingers. Jesse’s eyes popped open, then relaxed at the sight of me.

“Hi,” he said. He smiled slow and lazy, reminding me of his ridiculous cat, Gitli, when she did a low stretch over her front paws. As if he read my mind, Jesse reached his arms over his head and made a satisfied groaning noise, not unlike a purr.

“Good morning,” I said. “Sleep well? How’s your head?”

“Still attached to my neck. How about you? Are you all right this morning?”

“I am, thanks to you.”

“Shall I find us something to eat?”

I frowned, then shook my head. My stomach still hurt from the night before. “Not for me. I’m not actually hungry.”

He snorted. “I am. But I can wait.” He reached toward me and brought my face to his for a kiss. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said. I blushed, which made him smile. It was a smile that flashed with a child’s laughter, though it rumbled with what I recognized as the need of a man. He tucked my hair behind my ear and kissed me again. “Tell me, Adelaide. When you ran away from me, did it have anything to do with what I’m doing now?”

“I got scared,” I admitted, unsure how to explain. Thinking of the last time we’d been together made me regret so many things. I should have stayed. As usual, I should have tried harder. I shrugged, wanting him to think I was unconcerned. “Like I said. When we were . . . together, it was like all the dreams got stronger. It all happened at once, and I felt trapped—”

“Not by me, though, right? It wasn’t that you felt trapped because I wanted to kiss you, was it?”

He was a little boy, begging to be set free from guilt. I had to smile. “No, Jesse. I wanted to kiss you right back, if you recall. But the dream . . . I saw your father and felt his hands. It was so clear—”

He shook his head briefly, dismissing my words. “He’s gone now. No new dreams?” I shook my head. “Then we should be fine.” The twinkle started up again, lighting his eyes, though they looked tired. “So if you weren’t scared of me kissing you, maybe we should try again, see how that goes.”

I kissed my fingertips, then pressed them against his lips. “Yes, I think we should try again.”

They were so warm, so soft. Gentle yet taking possession of mine in the most exquisite way. When he kissed me, my entire body buzzed, thrumming like the thick vibrations of a cicada’s wings in the depths of summer. His thumbs, one on either side of my face, stroked my temples over and over as his kisses deepened, and my hands went to his shoulders, to the hard muscles that flexed when he raised his body up and over mine. He kissed the side of my neck, and every hair on my body stood straight up in appreciation. I lifted my jaw toward the sky, welcoming more, and he gave. His breath was warm on my ear, tickling across my cheek.

“Adelaide,” he whispered, lifting his face so he could look down at me. “I need to touch you.”

How was it possible that the idea of one man’s hands repulsed me to the point of near suicide, and the idea of Jesse’s left me dizzy with desire? Just the sound of his voice, hoarse and wanting me, untied any of the ropes still imagined on my limbs. His desire overwhelmed my fear, took away the panic that had always come with physical closeness.

I removed the shirt he had covered me with. I still wore my tunic, but it fell in shreds, exposing everything above my waist. His eyes flicked to my chest, then returned to my face. I could see the cougar in him as clearly as he could see my breasts—and my own need.

“You’re sure?” he asked quietly.

I stared into his eyes, mesmerized. “I dreamed of you for years before Soquili brought you to the village. I’m yours, Jesse. I’ve always been yours.”

He pulled off his shirt—his father’s shirt—and my hands went to his warm skin, tight against the muscles of his stomach and chest, soft when I pressed my fingers against him. I had never explored a man’s body before, not this closely, though I had been drawn to his ever since the first time I’d healed his wounds. The new wound, the one Andrew had given him in an attempt to keep me safe, was dark and ugly, craving attention. I saw the neat scar of the gash I had cleaned on his arm after his battle with Dustu, and the deep, short scar above his right breast. My fingers explored the soft pink pucker of it, traced the four lines left by the cougar so long before, then went looking for more.

Jesse stayed where he was, on hands and knees, letting me get used to him. He flinched when I touched a spot that tickled, but other than that, he didn’t seem the least bit bothered that my eyes and fingers travelled over him, curious.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, you know,” he said softly, pulling me from my trance. “I think I fell in love with you the first time you gave me that adorable frown.”

“I thought you just wanted me to translate.”

He grinned. “That, too,” he said, then kissed me again.

He held himself up on one elbow while his other hand cupped my shoulder, fitting perfectly, then slid down my arm and back up again. When he touched my breast, his hand was firm, not shy, yet it remained in place briefly enough that I knew I could escape if I needed. But escape was the furthest thing from my mind. Before I’d understood what he was doing, he set his lips on my breast and I caught my breath, taken by surprise at the sensations that flooded through me with that little action. When he moved his face to my other side, I was momentarily afraid he might stop.

Surprising both of us, my hands slipped down his sides, taking ahold of the waistband of his trousers and inching my fingers toward the buttons in the middle. Wide eyes watched my smiling expression as I undid one button, then the other.

“What?” I asked, trying to slide his trousers down. He chuckled and stood up, dropping them carelessly to the earth. “Here. Let me help.”

I stared long enough that he covered himself with his hands and flushed slightly red. “Um . . . you okay? Is there something wrong?” he asked. “If I recall correctly, this was your idea.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve never seen . . .” My eyes lowered again, but he blocked my view. What I could see of the rest of his body was a rainbow of cuts and bruises. “Sorry.”

He frowned, confused. “But I thought—”

“I never looked at them,” I said quietly. “I closed my eyes and wished I was dead. I never saw anything.”

His expression melted with understanding, and he came back to me, letting his hands fall to his sides. I could tell he was still self-conscious, but he lay beside me instead of on top, and gave me a brave smile.

“Go ahead and learn whatever you want. I am happy to tell you what I know.”

I giggled. “It’s okay, Jesse. I don’t need a lesson. I just didn’t know they looked like that. Kind of funny.”

He bristled slightly. “Hey.”

“Sorry.” But the giggles came through anyway, and Jesse stopped them with kisses. He straddled me again, then lay flat, squeezing me under his weight, muffling my laughter. Within moments, I was under both his body and his spell again. I gasped with pleasure as one of his hands moved to the outside of my thigh, gently massaging just above my knee, sliding upward in long caresses, rolling waves through my belly and below. My tunic skimmed up my leg, following the lead of his palm. His other elbow rested beside my head, supporting his body. He was taller than me by about a foot, so his bare thighs brushed against my knees.

I felt vulnerable when the material was entirely out of the way, when air touched me where I had been protected before. And I felt the shift in his urgency. He eased onto his knees so he was closer to me, until the shape of him pressed against the inside of my thigh.

I caught my breath, and his eyes opened wide, questioning. It wasn’t that I wanted him to stop, just that I remembered that: the readiness of a man, the moment when he was so roused there was little or no hope that he could stop. A shudder ripped down my spine.

“I . . . I can stop,” he managed. “If you want.”

I watched every blink of his eye as if it might give away a secret, then shook my head. “Don’t stop,” I whispered. “Show me what it’s like to make love.”

He kissed one of my cheeks, then the other. “It won’t be ‘like’ making love, my Adelaide. It will be the real thing, because I love you with everything I am.”

“Gugeh yuhi,
Jesse.” I love you, too.

He watched me closely, ready to stop if I asked. I felt the hesitancy in his movements, the tentative touch. I smiled to encourage him. “Make love to me,
please
,” I said softly.

He watched my reaction when he entered me, and I saw his eyes dull a bit, hiding behind heavy lids. I would have watched him, would have studied every beautiful angle of his face, but I was distracted by the sensations within me.

It didn’t hurt. That was my first observation. I felt no pain at all. A feeling of something . . . wrong in me. No, not wrong. Something foreign, obviously, but not wrong. In fact, it felt entirely right.

Oh Jesse.
I kissed his neck and closed my eyes, making love for the first time in my life.