How did he feel about her?
She wanted him to care for her. Desperately. Because if they were going to be together, and she prayed that they were, his friends would be angry. Actually, “angry” was too mild a word. She doubted there was a word to accurately express the rage they would unleash upon him. But if he loved her in return, he could bear it.
How could she ask him to bear it? Even if he did, in fact, love her?
How could she ask him to carry yet another burden?
God, what a mess. If they were together, her friends—no, that wasn’t the right word. They’d never truly been her friends. Her coworkers would fume at her, too. They wouldn’t understand how she could adore a demon. They would attack Amun; they would punish her. And she knew that was exactly why Amun had pushed her away. He didn’t want her to suffer. Didn’t want her to have to “bear it,” either.
That bespoke caring, right?
What he didn’t know, however, and what she had to somehow show him, was that nothing would cause her more suffering than trying to live without him. For him, she could bear anything.
Perhaps he would one day feel the same for her. If he did, losing their friends wouldn’t be something to bear because they would have each other, could rely on each other, comfort each other…cling to each other.
They had shared each other’s blood all those centuries ago, creating a bond far more powerful than the hatred always simmering inside her. They belonged together; she knew it. She’d have to show him that, too.
Yes, she had loathed his kind for centuries. Yes, she had hurt him, and yes, he had hurt her. But that was in the past. Now, she only wanted to look ahead.
Look ahead. Again, the words echoed through her mind, and she was forced to face a hard truth. She couldn’t ask Amun to give up his friends. She couldn’t allow him to cut those friends from his life, whether he could bear the loss of them or not, whether he would cling to her or not. How could she expect such a thing? Those warriors had helped shape Amun into the wonderful man he was. He needed them, and they needed him.
If Amun would just give her a chance, she would do everything in her power to smooth things over. After a time, if his friends still couldn’t accept her, no matter what she did, she would leave.
So many ifs…so many possibilities.
Leaving would kill her, but for Amun, for his happiness, she would do it. All she needed was that chance.
Haidee. Wake up for me, sweetheart.
Amun’s deep voice reverberated inside her head, much louder than in her dreams, jolting her into awareness. She blinked open her eyes. Several seconds passed before she was able to orient herself, and when she did, she took stock. Muted light filled the cave. In the distance, she heard the drip, drip of water. She was sprawled flat on her back, practically…sweating?
Haidee, sweetheart. Can you hear me?
Amun again. “Yes,” she drawled. She stretched her arms over her head, back arching. The ground beneath her was soft, as if she rested on pillows.
Finally. Now look at me.
“Where are you?” Something tickled her belly again, causing goose bumps to sprout in every direction. Her gaze descended, and what she found left her gaping. A shirtless Amun was on his knees in front of her, her spread legs braced on his thighs. He wore pants. She wore panties. Only panties.
Both of his hands rested on her stomach, his fingers tracing designs around her navel, on her hips, just above the tiny patch of curls guarding her where she already ached.
“You have hands,” was the first thing she thought to say. She’d been so afraid, so uncertain.
His lips quirked at the corners, revealing an amusement he rarely displayed. Yes. I have my hands. I’m glad you noticed.
She’d stuffed his injured arms into the backpack, eased him to his back when he had passed out, and then she’d paced, checked on him, prayed, bathed, checked on him, prayed some more, cursed, checked on him and finally fallen asleep beside him. At last check, he had still been handless.
“How?”
The backpack, as you thought. Just took a while for everything to regrow. Now, enough about that. Do you remember when you woke me up with your mouth on my cock?
She gulped, licked her lips. “Yes.”
His eyes darkened and he flattened his palms on his thighs, as if he didn’t trust himself to keep them on her. His gaze drifted to her core, and a ragged breath left him. Good. You can’t dispute that it’s my turn to wake you up properly.
Meaning it was his turn to taste her…oh, yes, please, yes. Yet he didn’t lower his head. Didn’t make any other moves toward her, and every nerve ending she possessed went on alert, readying for his touch. Craving his touch.
“Amun,” she pleaded.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. First, he said, reaching back, you’re going to call Micah.
Wait. What?
He lifted a small black cell phone. I asked the pack for a phone that would reach the outside world.
“But—it’s okay.” She shook her head. “I don’t have to…not anymore, because I—”
You wanted to call him, and so you will. He held out the phone, forcing her to accept it.
She stared at the device for a long while, unsure whether Amun was trusting her or testing her. If she made the call, would she hurt him? Make him think she wouldn’t take him anytime, anywhere, without his meeting certain conditions?
As soon as you’re done, I’ll start. The sensuality in his tone left no doubt as to what he meant. Just know that by doing this, you’re giving up your friends. You’ll never be able to return to them. They’ll despise you.
Was he…giving her a chance? The very chance she’d wanted? “I know,” she replied softly.
They might even hunt you.
“I know that, too.”
And you don’t mind?
“No. I’ll have you.”
Oh, yes, you’ll have me. His expression became fierce. I thought I could let myself have you for a little while, but I know now that a little while isn’t going to be enough. I’m going to find a way back, and I’m going to keep you. Now, always.
He wanted her now…always; she almost couldn’t process the news. Amun, with her, forever. He hadn’t offered any words of love, and she wasn’t going to ask for them. That could come later. For now, this was enough.
So what are you waiting for? Make the call.
Maybe he was trusting her as she hoped, maybe he was testing her as part of her feared, but in the end, anticipation decided her. She dialed, shocked when the sound of ringing filled her ear. She wanted this over and done with, Micah out of the picture completely.
Her former boyfriend answered on the second ring, a snarled, “What?”
“Micah?” she asked hesitantly. Her gaze locked on Amun, gauging his every reaction. He wasn’t looking at her, was looking just beyond her, his expression now a blank mask.
“Haidee?” Micah sounded baffled, relieved and overjoyed—and still angry—all at once. “Where are you? Tell me. Now.” With every word, his emotions were overtaken by determination.
She experienced a pang of guilt. “Yes. I’m alive. But no, I won’t tell you where I am. I—”
“Are the bastards monitoring this call?”
“No.” Not really. “Listen, I—”
“Tell me where you are, then, and I’ll come and get you.”
“No. That’s not why I’m calling. I just wanted you to know—”
“I thought you were dead,” he interjected, once more cutting her off. Now he sounded accusing. “I mourned you. I tried to track you, tried to save you. Tell me, damn it. Tell me where you are.”