Dark Sins and Desert Sands (9 page)

What’s worthless when stolen, priceless when
shared, a token of love when two souls are bared?

S
itting in a car next to a possible terrorist, Layla couldn’t forget the way she’d felt the moment he kissed her. The scent of him had been like straw and sweat. Then there was the disturbing imagery. In the dreamlike shadowy haze, Ray’s nose had been a flat broad expanse, almost as wet and black as his eyes. His skin was almost like hide, soft to the touch, but somehow sleeker than skin. She’d felt the powerful muscles that bulged beneath, the cords of his neck tightening with unspeakable power. It had made her feel like he could tear her to pieces with his bare hands, but it also made her feel as if he was the one man who could protect her from anything.

She’d gone with him, fear and all, because some part
of her wondered—in the arms of a beast like Ray—would she ever have to fear anyone else? “You’re not going to hurt me,” she said, as if realizing it for the first time.

“I told you that I wouldn’t. We’ll be at my motel in a minute, we’ll have a nice leisurely chat, and then you won’t ever have to see me again.”

“No,” Layla said instantly. “We can’t stay here in Vegas. We have to just get on the highway and keep driving.”

He glanced at her for a moment, then shook his head. “This car wouldn’t make it an hour into the desert. I’d have to buy a new car and there’s not a dealership in the world—not even one in Vegas—that’s going to sell us anything looking like we do.”

That was when Layla first noticed the blood. Her cut hands had bled freely and stained her blouse. The scratches on Ray’s forearms were starting to scab over, but he too was smeared and filthy. They’d have to clean up before they went anywhere.

Given the pinched expression on Layla’s face, Ray was pretty sure that she hadn’t ever been to a place that rented rooms by the hour. “What’s the matter, Princess Jasmine?” he taunted, shutting the motel room door and locking it behind them. “A little too low-rent for you? The good news is that nobody saw us come in together, and even if they did, nobody thinks you’re on the run. They’d just think you’re here with me for a quick roll in the hay.” He’d only meant it as a joke—to lighten the mood—but she turned her head as if he’d slapped her. “Hey, I was just teasing. I told you before that I wouldn’t use my powers to take advantage of you.”

She didn’t even smile. “Then why did you kiss me in the parking garage?”

Okay, so she had him there. “I kissed you to shut you up and keep you from screaming,” he said, though he was pretty sure that was a complete lie. He’d kissed her because her face had haunted his dreams for years. And because he could. What’s more, she’d liked it, so he wasn’t about to apologize.

He watched her cross the room and pick up the receiver of the phone. He was on her heels and caught her by the hand. “Who the hell are you calling?”

Her green eyes blinked. Once. Twice. “I was just checking to see if there was a dial tone. If Seth followed us—if he’s planning to storm this place with his thugs—one of the first things he’ll do is cut the phone lines.”

“You’re not going to try to call the police?”

“The police can’t protect me,” Layla said, breaking free of him. “Not from Seth and obviously not from you, either. After all, you were able to get past security and into my apartment without unbolting the locks, weren’t you?”

“I was never in your apartment,” Ray explained, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I was in your mind. In your dreams.”

“No, you
were
in my bedroom,” Layla insisted. “My headboard was slashed open!”

“That was all you, sweetheart,” Ray said, a hint of smugness at the corners of his mouth as he lifted his gouged arms. “You like to scratch in moments of passion.”

Passion
. Even the word sounded foreign to Layla’s ears. Like something forbidden and wonderful. Like
something she’d once wanted very much but could never have.

She glanced down at his bed, which looked like it’d been shredded by some wild animal. The sheets were torn rags. “I guess you’re going to tell me that I did this too, then?”

“No,” Ray confessed, with another rueful twist to his lips. “But it
was
your fault. When I went into your dream— You do remember your dream, don’t you?”

“Just in bits and pieces.” Embarrassed at the memory of their near intimacy, she looked down at herself and sighed. “I’m going to need a change of clothes.”

“What you need to do is sit down and answer some questions for me.”

“I will. I promise. I’ll tell you anything I can remember. But not here. Get me a change of clothes and then we can go. There’s a dealership in the valley. We can trade in your car for something that’ll make the trip to California. Or New York. Yes. The East Coast. The farther we can get from here the better.”

“Who says I’m letting you go anywhere?” Ray asked. “Besides, we can’t trade in the car tonight. By the time I get you a change of clothing, the dealerships will be closed.”

“I have a lot of money,” she said, hugging herself. “We could bribe someone.”

“I thought you were a smart lady. If you interrupt some used car salesman at dinner by waving around a ton of cash on the way out of town, he’s going to remember your face. And mine. The best thing to do is hunker down here until morning.”

Until morning.
Surely he didn’t expect her to stay here with him until morning. On the other hand, maybe
it was the smart thing to do. She needed time to calm down and think things through.

“But what if he finds us?” Layla asked. “What if Seth somehow finds us here?”

Ray pulled his gun out of the waistband of his jeans and held it up. “Then I’ll kill him.”

Layla put both hands over her mouth. Two things had shocked her. The first was that this time, she was able to identify his gun on sight. It was a Makarov semiautomatic pistol. The second thing that shocked her was the calm way in which he promised to kill someone. Ray was a soldier. Maybe killing came easy to him. Yet, the idea that he might kill for
her,
to protect
her,
was more comforting than she wanted to admit.

She’d stay here with him, then. Just until morning.

He seemed to realize without her having to say so that they’d come to some kind of truce and he took off his bloody shirt, dropping it in a disorderly heap on the floor. Then she watched him plod over to the sink and turn on the faucet. She drew closer, marveling at what she’d done to him. He looked as if he’d been clawed by a wild animal. Both exhilarated and sickened by the deep gouges she’d scratched into his arm, she drew closer. “Here, let me help you,” she said, reaching for the soap.

He tried to shrug her off, but then their hands twined in the warm, sudsy water. He stilled, then looked away as she cleaned his wounds. His silence only emphasized the sound of their breathing. His deep and sonorous, hers quick and airy. She’d only intended to help slough the blood off his arms and fetch him a towel, but her efficient lathering slowed until his hands joined with hers. Then they were washing together.

Before this place and time, she hadn’t known if he was a guilty man. For that matter, neither did she know if she were an innocent woman. In this moment, something changed between them.

Their shoulders touched, but it was more than that. She was leaning against his bare chest as if she’d been running lost through a wilderness and finally come to rest against the base of a mighty tree. She’d been so frightened, for so long, and against all reason, she felt safe with him. In the warm flowing water, his big thumbs caressed her palms, stroking her with a gentleness that belied the animal savagery she’d seen before. It was as if the sins of their past were washing away down the drain with the blood and dirt.

When he tangled her tawny fingers with his darker ones and held them…she let him. She’d never had anyone hold her hands like that. Like the lines of her palms could tell the story of her soul. And she wanted to linger here, with the scent of soap in her nostrils, poised in that perfect moment where she felt like the darkest parts of her were finally starting to come clean. But Ray was still bleeding, and she couldn’t bear that he was in any more pain. “I need to find something to bandage your arms….”

“It’s nothing.” He shrugged as if he’d suffered so much that he’d grown detached from his flesh.

“Maybe there are some Band-Aids or something in here,” she said.

He reached for a towel. “I said it was nothing. You don’t need to play nursemaid.”

It might be nothing to him, but she wanted to bandage him. Heal him somehow. Prove to him that she’d changed. “Please just let me do something for you.”

He worked his jaw, as if the decision didn’t come easy. “There’s a first-aid kit in my pack.”

She fetched it, trying not to think too hard about the other things she found inside—like duct tape and bourbon. When she returned, he extended his arms to her but it was several moments more before the tension left his shoulders and he fully surrendered, which made it easier to rub salve into the lacerations and bandage him. He watched her as she worked, lowering his head so that their foreheads almost touched, and something tightened in her throat. “I’m sorry I did this to you, Ray. You grabbed me. You frightened me.”

He still couldn’t look at her. “I know.”

“I just wanted to get free….”

“I understand.”

She supposed he, of all people, would. She taped the bandages in place around each wrist and stepped back to admire her handiwork. That’s when he reached for her again. “Now let me take a look at the cuts on your hands. It looked like the glass sliced you pretty deep.”

She let him take her hands again, searching for wounds she knew he wouldn’t find. He turned her palms over, first this way, then that, fingertips probing. When a puzzled look crossed his face, she said, “I heal quickly.”

He stared in disbelief. “You broke open that fire extinguisher case with your bare hands and now there’s not a mark on you.”

“My flesh mends like magic. I don’t know how.”

He arched a curious brow, his voice low and even. “A girl like you, with all those diplomas, doesn’t even have a theory?”

“Can
you
explain everything that
you
can do?”

He shook his head, slowly. “No. I guess I can’t. That doesn’t keep me from trying to come up with explanations. How long have you had this ability?”

“Since as far back as I can remember. Which, admittedly, isn’t that long.”

“No? You seemed like you remembered something before.” Before she could deny it, he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and made her look at him. “You remembered something when I kissed you. Maybe if I do it again, you’ll give me something more useful than the name of your psycho ex-husband.” She
had
remembered things when he kissed her, but now, more than anything, she was remembering that kiss. One of her hands still rested in his big calloused palm, and she felt herself lean in to him. It startled her to realize how hungry she was to be kissed again. Maybe it startled him too because his damp fingers went to the sides of her neck, thumbs on her cheeks, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with her.

But Layla knew. She didn’t want to think, or plan, or fear. She just wanted this.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he rasped. “Do you know how many times I fantasized about wrapping my hands around your neck, just like this, and choking the life out of you?”

She wanted to tell him that she wasn’t that person he remembered anymore. She wasn’t the kind of person who would hurt anyone, but how could she even say such a thing when both of his arms bore the bandaged evidence to the contrary? “I’m sorry I made you hate me, Ray. I don’t remember it, but I’m sorry that I pushed you to fantasize about strangling me.”

His gaze settled on her with unmistakable sensual
weight. “That’s not the only thing I fantasized about doing to you.”

“Show me,” she whispered. She wanted to understand. She wanted to
feel
. Every time he touched her, something inside of her started blooming to life. She wanted to know what the blossom would look like. Every petal and grain of pollen.

Ray looked as if something were twisting inside him. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” she asked softly. “Do you want to hurt me? Is that what you want?”

His eyes closed, as if it shamed him to say, “No.”

“Then what do you want?” It was only a question, but it made something inside him snap. It was almost an audible thing—as if she could hear the crack of his self-control when he jerked her against him, drawing her lips against his. It wasn’t wild and savage as it had been in the parking garage. This kiss wasn’t meant to silence a scream, or to capture the cornered creature she’d been. This time, his lips claimed her, explored her, encouraging her to do the same.

When she did, she heard his breath grow ragged. His big hands drifted down her throat to the collar of her blouse, clumsy fingers fumbling with the tie. She reached up to help him, trembling as they worked at the buttons together. She shivered when the silk slid from her shoulders and fell to the floor, baring her to the air. He didn’t rush to undo her bra, but let his mouth drift down her neck to nuzzle the hollow of her collarbone.

It didn’t seem possible that skin could be so soft.
This was madness,
Ray thought. He shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be touching her, shouldn’t be kissing her. But he didn’t want to think about anything but her skin,
lest it return him to sanity. Ever since he’d changed in that dungeon, he’d lived a thing apart from society, an outsider even to himself. Touching her pulled him back into his body. His physical desire for her grounded him. He wanted to have her, take her, taste her and lose himself inside her if she’d let him.

He tried to be gentle, tried not to maul her, but pent-up need made him brutish. He grabbed her, molding her body against his, smothering her tiny, womanly cries. He wanted to gently slide her skirt down, but instead he yanked it up over her hips then thrust his fingers into her panties. She was so wet that it made him groan, and as soon as he touched her there, she made a needy sound that he was sure would be his undoing.