She looked around at the thick stone walls. "I suppose we ought to take it outside. I don't know exactly what the range is, but I'm sure the less interference the better."
She was on her way to the door, looking like an artist's rendition of Athena off to the hunt, when Nikolas cleared his throat and said. "Uh…sweetheart…aren't you forgetting something?"
She paused to throw him a questioning look over one bare shoulder, saw the direction of his gaze and glanced down at herself. "Oh," she said. "That. So what? There's nobody around for miles."
"I'm around." he pointed out as he picked up her jacket and draped it carefully over her shoulders. He stroked a strand of damp hair away from her ear and with his lips almost touching its delicate shell, murmured. "Have a little pity, love. You have no idea how rotten it makes me feel, having lusty thoughts about you when you're injured and in pain." It wasn't the time, he knew, to tell her how far beyond lust-light-years beyond-his thoughts about her had gone.
She leaned against him. her head bumping onto his shoulder, her body's curves seeking his. "But I told you-a little lust is like an all-over shot of morphine."
"Rhee, I adore you," he said, laughing weakly, his lips in her hair and her scent, lightly flavored with tea, filling his senses. "But…forgive me, sweetheart. I don't know where to put my hands."
She groped for and found the windowsill, set the transmitter box on it and reached for his hands. She placed them on her hips and covered them with hers, her fingers warmly stroking the backs of his as she turned her face to his neck and whispered. "Anywhere below the waist seems to be fine…"
He groaned. Her warm, firm flesh taunted him. safely protected from his lascivious touch beneath layers of fabric and a belt like something medieval knights put on their women when they went off to war. "My love, you're killing me, you know. You can't possibly-oh…g-" His breath hissed between his teeth as her hands reached behind her. slipped between her backside and his front side to stroke the growing bulge behind his zipper.
"Tell me you don't just want me for my medicinal qualities." he said in a grating voice. Holding himself rigidly still, aware that she was trembling, now. Not the tight shivers that meant she was cold, or breathless ripples of passion, but shudders of overwhelming emotion that racked her body from head to toe.
"I don't…just want you…for your medicinal qualities. I want you…for all your qualities."
"So, you do want me, then…"
"Yes…oh. yes…more than want. I think…I need you. I need-" She broke off with a dry sob. Nikolas caught her tightly to him with one arm across her waist, and with the other pressed her head into the curve of his neck and shoulder.
"It's okay." he crooned as he rocked her. "it's okay…"
"Dammit. Nik. Dammit, dammit, dammit…"
"I know…I know."
"I want to kill him. Seriously. I…want…to…kill…him. If I'd had a gun…"
"It's probably a good thing you didn't." He kissed her temple. "Have you ever killed anyone, my love?"
She shook her head. Sniffed. "No. Have you?"
"No." He rocked her silently for a moment. "But I have an idea it's not an easy thing for a good person to do."
She sniffed again, a longer one this time, more an indrawn breath. "No. I suppose not."
She stirred in his arms, and when he let her go she pulled away from him, raking the fastenings from her hair, combing it with her fingers-carefully, because of her scalded scalp. "I'm okay now-really." she said, sounding breathless. "I'm sorry, Nik. I hope I didn't-I mean…" She made an embarrassed little gesture. Avoiding his eyes.
"I may be crippled for life." he said somberly. Her eyes flashed at him. bright with dismay. He smiled and brushed her cheek with the back of his finger. "I'm kidding, my dearest. Contrary to what most adolescent males would have you believe. I don't know of any documented evidence of permanent damage caused by unfulfilled lust." He nodded toward the window. "Let's get our little Mayday box outside where someone might actually hear it, shall we?"
"I think somebody has." Rhia said in an odd voice, going motionless with her head cocked at a listening angle.
Then Nikolas heard it, too-the steady thump of a helicopter's rotors. "Well, well. I suppose that's Elliot?" He lifted one eyebrow. "Lazio does take good care of his people, doesn't he? I must say, though. I'm rather glad the cavalry didn't arrive a few minutes earlier, aren't you?"
"Sorry I didn't get here sooner." Elliot shouted as Rhia took the hand he offered. "I was outside taking a-uh… sorry-taking care of…uh. personal business-didn't catch the signal." He glanced at but didn't comment on the way she held her jacket together loosely with one hand when she let him help her into the chopper. As she settled into the jump seat, he yelled over one shoulder. "Don't tell Lazio, okay? He'll have my head. I had strict orders not to take my eyes off your six."
She reassured him with a smile, the best one she could manage with her teeth clamped together. The pain raking down the front of her body no longer made her nauseated, at least. Now, it just stung like bloody hell.
Nikolas's tall form filled the doorway of the chopper. She watched him toss in Elliot's duffel bag and the other odds and ends he'd brought from the car. then grip the sides of the opening and lever himself gracefully through. His eyes found hers immediately, asking if she was okay, telling her everything would be all right. And as he slipped past her and into the shotgun seat beside Elliot, he let his hand lie for one brief moment on the top of her head.
She felt the warmth of it slide all the way down through her pain-wracked body. An ache filled her throat and she closed her eyes…wishing. Wish his touch didn't feel so damn good. Wish I didn't love him so much…
"You must have been pretty close by." Nikolas said to Elliot ashe belted himself in. "How'd you know where to find us? Didn't we leave you at the airport in Dunford?"
"I've been on your tail pretty much since you left Dunford. Like I said, I had orders from the man himself-s'posed to stick to you guys like glue." The chopper swooped upward, lifting a swirl of fine sand into the air with it. "I was hunkered down a couple miles from here-didn't want to get too close, 'fraid I might spook the target." Elliot jerked his head toward Rhia. "Looks like I missed some action."
Nikolas nodded his head. Rhia could see the side of his jaw twitch with his wry smile. "Little bit."
"She okay?"
"She will be."
"The target?"
"Got away."
"Ah. Figured that when I saw that oil-burner hightailin' it down the road." Elliot said with a small headshake. "Maybe I should've gone after 'im. but like I said. I had my orders."
Rhia didn't hear Nikolas's reply. Exhausted by pain and emotional turmoil, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the headrest. Inexplicably, as a new wave of anger rippled through her, the image imprinted on the backs of her eyelids wasn't the murderous Lord Vladimir's. It was her father's.
Later that evening, in Nikolas's seaside apartment in the college town of Dunford. Rhia lay in his bed propped up on a pile of pillows, wearing only a pair of his black silk boxers. As she listened to the sounds coining from the adjoining bathroom- the hum of an electric shaver…the rush of water in the shower… the thump of a dropped bar of soap-she was in serious danger of engaging in what for her was a rare sin: self-pity.
And why not? She was entitled, dammit. She couldn't have a shower…couldn't wash her hair. Her chest and stomach hurt; so did her scalp, in places, so she couldn't even give her hair a decent brushing. And the burns looked awful. Sickening, she thought as she lifted her head to look at the angry blisters one more time. Yes-truly ugly. Blood would have been better.