Dare You to Run (2 page)

He had high cheek bones that were defined because of his low body fat. Most of his hair was trimmed away and his chin was clean shaven. Perfectly groomed and yet, there was a glitter in his eyes that proclaimed just how untamed he was. It made her shiver but in a very enjoyable way.

“Damascus Ryland.” Manners had been drilled into her young, and she stuck her hand out without thinking. Vitus's lips twitched as one eyebrow rose. He didn't take her hand but looked at it for a long moment.

“We'll get you cleaned up.”

Vitus Hale was on his feet a moment later, turning to look back at the dock. The moon was behind them, casting a large shadow from the stack of shipping containers. Damascus pushed herself up, determined to do more than sit on the ground like a bedraggled kitten.

“How often did they check on you?”

Damascus blinked a couple of times before her brain engaged and she realized Vitus had spoken to her. More importantly, he hadn't offered her comfort. He was watching the sentry, one of the other men using a pair of goggles to do the same, while the third was facing the opposite direction to make sure no one snuck up on them.

Vitus let out a grunt. “Don't worry about it.”

Damascus felt something inside her snap. Almost like a safety cap that had been on her for her entire life, keeping her oblivious and weak, unable to defend herself.

“Every night, just as the sun was setting.” She answered up in a voice that didn't falter.

Vitus cut her a glance, obviously surprised. She straightened her back and resisted the urge to bite her lower lip.

“They wanted to force my father to vote in favor of the new port taxes.”

Vitus nodded. “Yeah, I heard. It told me right where to look for you.”

Understanding dawned on her and she smiled. “Right. Um, I mean thank you.” She pulled her attention away from Vitus, which was much harder than it really should have been, and looked at his companion. “Thank you.”

Vitus jerked his head, and the team started moving. “Well, we're not parting company just yet.”

He'd hooked her upper arm and turned her around like she was a child before she realized what he was doing. Vitus Hale seemed to have no intention of explaining anything to her, just on moving her. He'd taken her across the docks, through stacks of cargo containers, and under huge cranes before they reached a car. One of the men opened the door, and Vitus put her into it.

Well, details didn't matter, at least not at the moment. It was a little more pertinent that they put some distance between them and the men who would gleefully stuff her back in the hole.

Only she was the one who was gleeful as they drove away.

*   *   *

“I can take you back to your father.”

Damascus had been rubbing her head with a towel. She lowered it and looked at him while her hair sprang to life. She was a natural redhead, and a bright one too, who was naturally curly. Fresh from a shower, her head was covered in tiny corkscrews.

But that wasn't what attracted him to her, not the most anyway. Nope, what was drawing him to her was the way she blinked and lowered the towel without a hint of outrage over him showing up while she was wearing only a robe.

She could prioritize.

Which meant she wasn't as much of a spoilt brat as he'd assumed.

“Or … you could do what?” she asked him as she laid the towel down and reached for the medical kit he had forgotten was in his hand.

Fuck. He was spellbound.

Vitus pointed to the only thing in the room, which was a bed. Something flickered in her eyes now. She sat on it as he opened the kit and tore open a packet of antiseptic.

“We could keep you out of sight and try to trap your captors,” Vitus said. “I take you back to your father, and they will scatter into the sewers.”

“I like your plan.” There was heat in her voice, and that stunned him because he honestly expected a wailing fit.

Damascus reached out and took some antiseptic from the packet while he was considering her, and began to smear it over one of her bloodied fingers. He should have looked away, to give her some space, but he was just too damn impressed—and that didn't happen very often. Damascus Ryland, debutante, looked at the mess that was her hands and smiled as he treated the oozing wounds. It had to sting like a bastard but she only smiled brighter until she caught him watching her. For a moment, their gazes fused. He saw the pain swimming in her blue eyes, proving she wasn't in shock.

“The pain … it means I'm alive,” she offered in a soft voice.

“Yeah, it does.”

Time shifted and he lost track of it for a moment while he looked into her eyes and fought the urge to touch her. The urge was powerful and seemed to have risen up past all of the mission protocol he'd had drummed into him.

She was a package, a mission goal.

But right then, she wasn't. Damascus looked like an angel who was welcoming him closer …

“Brought you some chow.”

Saxon Hale was through the doorway as Vitus jerked. His brother came closer and went right between him and Damascus as he delivered a bowl of beans and rice that had steam gently rising from it.

“She's on board,” Vitus offered as he turned and retreated.

Now that was a first for him, but honestly, Damascus rattled him.

*   *   *

“Send her home.”

Vitus turned to find Saxon on his tail, looking at him with far too much knowledge in his eyes.

“And wait for these pricks to try again?” Vitus shook his head.

“I'm more concerned about you.”

Vitus could have denied what his brother had walked in on, but dishonesty on a team leads to trouble. “She caught me off guard is all. I expected tears.”

Saxon tilted his head to one side. “Yeah. Guess it's our lucky day. I do like the missions where the bad guys are our biggest headache.”

Vitus was nodding, but Saxon wasn't nearly as gullible as he would have liked. His brother knew him too well.

“Just don't forget,” Saxon warned. “She's Jeb Ryland's daughter. He's a conservative and won't take it kindly if you forget that he thinks his little girl is too good for you.”

“Right.”

It was the truth. One of those pesky little reality things. Sure, Vitus enjoyed pitting himself against the odds, but there were some things that a wise man just left alone. Like congressmen's daughters.

So why was he itching to find a reason to go back into that room?

*   *   *

Beans and rice had never tasted so good.

Damascus shoved two steaming spoonfuls into her mouth before she managed to quell the urge to swallow the entire bowl without taking a breath. Her mouth was so full, the broth was leaking from the corners of her lips as she chewed—and all she did was chuckle at herself without a care for how ill-mannered she appeared.

She felt so alive! Like energy was crackling along her circulatory system. It made her senses ultrakeen, and what she was noticing most with her hyperawareness was how amazing Navy SEAL Vitus Hale was. Her nipples were puckered tight, sensation prickling across her breasts, while she marveled at the level of intensity.

It was like she'd never felt before.

And there was one thing that burst inside her brain as she finished off that bowl. She was never, ever, going to be the stupid little chit she'd been before.

Life was to be lived and she couldn't wait to get down to it.

*   *   *

One week later …

God he smelled good.

Damascus just couldn't seem to get close enough to Vitus Hale. At least it didn't seem to be her problem alone. The SEAL watched her, not like Saxon or Dare Servant did—the way his eyes followed her was personal.

And she loved it.

“Shit,” he said as he pulled his mouth away from hers.

She wanted to follow him and press her lips back against his to seal out any more words. She didn't want to talk, she just wanted to be immersed in his embrace.

“Damascus.” Vitus caught her nape and held her back. “We've got to talk about this.”

She let out a little sigh and heard him scoff at the way her lower lip protruded. “All right.” She withdrew, her confidence restored by the look of raw rejection on his face as she did so.

“Your father is going to object to anything between us.”

“I'm twenty-three,” she answered. “Well past the age of consent.”

He liked hearing that, but she watched as he held himself in check, sticking to his desire to have a conversation. It wasn't what she craved, epically since the first night that he'd kissed her like he just couldn't keep his hands off her. She sure as hell didn't want him to start now.

“You know what I mean. He's a congressman. I'm not the sort of man he has planned for you.”

Damascus reached up and grabbed his shirt, twisting the fabric in her fist and pulling him down to her level so she could kiss him. Vitus didn't hold out very long against her onslaught, and he was kissing her back with all the hunger she'd come to expect from him. But she withdrew before it overwhelmed her.

“If you want a little girl who checks with her daddy, I'm not the woman for you.”

It was hard to say and even harder for her to step away from him, more like ripping herself away from the thing that made her feel more alive than she ever had.

Vitus considered her for a long moment, drinking in the determination on her face. He saw her. Really saw who she was beneath all the layers of education and grooming her father had insisted she be encased in, right there, she was herself and she realized she wanted to get to know who she was and do so with the man who had made her realize she was moving through her life half asleep.

“I believe you.” He reached down and caught the edge of his T-shirt and pulled it up and over his head, baring his magnificent torso for her. It was cut with ridges of hard muscle that she itched to stroke. “You are a woman.”

She purred as he caught her back up against him. No, her father wouldn't approve, but she didn't care. The thought of returning to the life she'd had was intolerable, not when she'd discovered what living was truly about in Vitus's arms.

So she wiggled until she could get her hands between them and stroke him the way she'd wanted to. He made a soft, male sound of frustration against her lips and settled for releasing her so that she might have her way.

“Go on princess, stroke me,”

She did. Shivering as it felt like touching him was in some way completing a current. The moment she touched him, energy went pulsing through her, awakening a zillion points of awareness inside her that she'd been unaware of before.

Yet it wasn't enough. She broke away from him, fighting to free herself from her clothing.

“Oh no,” he muttered in a husky tone. “Baring you is going to be my pleasure.”

He caught her shirt near the hem and tugged it up and over her head. It went fluttering down onto the floor as he let out a little hum of appreciation. His attention was on her breasts, making her suddenly shy.

“They aren't … very big,”

She could have bitten her tongue in half. Vitus raised his gaze to her hers, granting her a flash of just how much passion was flickering in his eyes. Her confidence regained its wind in response.

“Do I look like I'm disappointed, princess?”

He'd closed the gap between them and laid his fingers on the swells of her breasts, where the edge of her bra ended.

Damascus shook her head.

He slid his hands around her and found the hooks that held the undergarment closed. She let out a little gasp as he freed them and brought his hands back around her body before pulling the bra down her arms.

“You're perfect,” He muttered as he cupped her bare breasts, gently cradling them as he sent a jolt of pleasure down her body. “So damned perfect. Why do you think I call you princess?”

He didn't allow her the chance to answer but sealed her mouth beneath his. The kiss was firm and she rose onto her toes to answer him with a demand of her own. She wanted him and needed to make sure that she did her share of taking, craving that feeling of knowing she was his partner, not just his responsibility.

They weren't close enough. Damascus needed more of him. It was pounding through her and he seemed to feel it too. He was stroking her. Using his hands to worship every inch of her body. She arched back, her eyes closing as pleasure flooded her. He was moving slowly, so very slowly that it was driving her insane and yet, she enjoyed the torment because she was his sole focus point. The intensity of it was off the scale, at least as far as any scale she'd ever known was concerned.

He scooped her up, cradling her as though she weighed nothing. Moving her toward the bed and settling her on its surface. He left her for a moment, rising up like the hard warrior who had rescued her to tug her pants loose and strip them from her.

She shivered, conscious of how easily he might bend her to his will with his strength and yet knowing that she was drawn to those same qualities because of what it unleashed inside her. She rose up, folding her knees beneath her so that she could reach for his fly.

“Damascus.”

She liked the strained sound of his voice, enjoyed the way it made her feel more in control than she ever had in her life. She popped open the buttons and heard him draw in a raspy breath.

His cock was swollen and hard. It sprung out as she freed those buttons because he didn't have anything on under his jeans. She ended up purring, reaching for it, marveling at the silky smooth texture of it.

But beneath that skin it was as hard as stone. She stoked it, enjoying the way he threaded his fingers through her hair, tightening his grip just enough to send a tingle of pain across her scalp. She started to lean down, intent on licking the slit on its head but he held her back.

“No tonight, princess.” There was a firm warning in his tone. “Tonight, I'm the one introducing you to passion.”