“How long have you been awake?” Her mouth had gone dry and her pulse was racing. He was turned on his side, propped up on one elbow, watching her intently.

“Hours. I don’t know.” He reached out and touched her lower lip with the pad of his finger. “I dreamt of you taking a shower with me. And then I dreamt of you swimming naked with me. And then I dreamt of waking up and finding you next to me just like this.”

She couldn’t stop the slow smile. “You were dreaming very specific details, because I felt you touching me.”

“Where was I touching you?” There was a raw ache in his voice.

“I felt your hand on my thigh.”

He shifted position, a small movement, but it brought him close to her. His head dipped lower toward her stomach as his hand slid slowly up her thigh as if savoring every moment. “Like this?” His voice was a sinful temptation, nothing less.

She closed her eyes briefly and shifted her legs until his heavy erection was pressed against her skin. Until she could feel the drop of moisture bearing witness to his urgent need. “More. It was more, and your hair brushed over my skin and felt erotic.” She touched his hair. He wore it long, and it was falling free around his face. He was a beautiful man with a darkly sensual body made to bring women long nights of passion. Her fingers slid over his face, the angles and planes, memorizing his handsome features.

His hands pushed her thighs apart, moved up to find the buttons of her shirt, slowly slipping each button free. “Do we need this?”

“We might. We might need a bucket or two of water, Nicolas.” Her breath caught in her throat when his knuckles brushed her breasts. “This is so dangerous. Are you sure you want to take the chance? We have no idea what could happen.”

“Aren’t we scientists?” He pushed aside the edges of her shirt and bent his head to press a kiss on her tantalizing midriff. “I thought we were scientists. Experiments are our life’s blood.” His silken hair caressed her skin, sent shock waves rippling through her body. His lips traveled lower, found her belly button so his tongue could take a leisurely dip.

Every cell in her body came alive, sang, burned. The air crackled around them. Dahlia stiffened and pushed at his head. “Did you hear that?” She turned her head to look around them. The heat enveloping them was fierce, the sexual energy rising to engulf them. Tiny sparks glittered in the air like sparklers.

He kissed her stomach, blazed a trail of dancing flames from her belly button to the triangle of inviting curls at the junction of her legs. “Fireworks. Naturally there will be fireworks. Stay with me, Dahlia, don’t think of anything beyond me.”

Her fingers fisted in his hair. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” His hands whispered over her thighs, added to the heat building in the room, building in her body. Dahlia heard her own soft moan and moved restlessly, needing more. Aching in places she didn’t know she had.

Nicolas rested his forehead on her stomach for just a moment, trying to catch his breath. His hands trembled as he caressed her skin. He wanted to go slow, to make this time perfect for Dahlia, but the pressure inside of him was building in direct proportion to the heat surrounding them. It felt as if a volcano lived and breathed inside of him. He wanted to ravage her, drag her into his arms and devour her hungrily, but he forced a slow assault, using his years of discipline to savor the softness of her skin. To hear her small gasps as he kissed his way along the curve of her hip and the nip of her waist. His tongue teased each rib and found the underside of her breast.

Dahlia nearly came off the bed. “Nicolas, it’s too much.” She had two handfuls of his hair, her hips moving restlessly in invitation, but her eyes wide with fear. “I don’t know if I can stay in control.”

He nibbled his way around her small breast. “The beauty of sex is that you aren’t supposed to stay in control. You get to let go.” His breath was hot against her nipple, teasing it into a tight peak.

“What if I start a fire?”

“What if you don’t? What if we have our own fire, right here, burning between us, using up all that wonderful energy? I’m willing to try.” He closed his mouth around the tantalizing invitation of her breast. “I’m more than willing to try.”

She cried out, wrapping her arms around his head to cradle him to her as lightning forked through her body. If fires started around her, she wasn’t certain she’d know; she was burning from the inside out, a conflagration she couldn’t hope to put out. There was only Nicolas with his sinful mouth and his commanding hands and the sheer pleasure coursing through her body. The energy building heightened her senses, drove the heat through her until she felt liquid and needy.

His hands were everywhere, but never fast, moving with leisurely slowness, as if they had all the time in the world. Dahlia didn’t know if she could stand the slow assault on her body. His mouth moved over her breast, nuzzled her nipple and flicked it with his tongue. Each time he pulled at her breast a fresh trickle of warm welcoming liquid glistened invitingly between her legs.

His hand glided up her thigh, cupped her entrance. Dahlia gasped as his finger slipped into her.

“You’re so tight, honey, and so hot, and I don’t know if I can wait.”

“I don’t think you should.”

“You have to be ready for me. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. There’s no reason for it. It just takes a little bit of patience.” He rested his head on her stomach while his finger pushed deeper into her. His tongue traced the edge of her triangle. “I can be patient.” He prayed for patience.

“I don’t think I can.” Dahlia looked up to see sparklers in the air. Her hair crackled with the building electricity. “We have to do something right now.”

Nicolas took her gasping plea as an invitation. He lowered his head between her thighs, one arm, an iron band, thrown across her to hold her down for his assault.

Dahlia’s wits scattered in all directions, a sob escaping, her body rising up off the bed, writhing against the sheets. “I can’t breathe.” She was going to shatter into a million pieces. The entire room was going to go up in flames. The sparklers were bursting into colors overhead and raining down. She heard her own cry, a raw shout of pure passion she couldn’t suppress as tremors shook her, and the lightning now seemed to sizzle through every vein, ever cell and nerve ending.

Nicolas slid over her, his wide shoulders blocking out everything in the room as he pushed her thighs wider to accommodate him. She pushed forward desperate to feel him inside her. Every single part of her body was throbbing for him.

“I’ll be careful, Dahlia. I’ll do my best to stay in control and make sure there’s little chance you’ll get pregnant.”

“You don’t have to worry about getting me pregnant,” Dahlia said, her hands bunched in his hair. She wanted him deep inside her more than she wanted anything. He just stayed there, pressing part way into her and driving her wild. “I’m on birth control.”

His head reared back, his black eyes moving over her face. Edgy. Almost angry. “Why the hell would you be on birth control if you aren’t sleeping with anyone? Who, Dahlia? Calhoun?”

She stared back at him for a long moment. “Are you insane? You’re going to get jealous because I’m on birth control when it’s obvious I’ve never been with a man?”

Nicolas groaned. His entire body was on fire, was as hard as it could be, and he was arguing with her over something utterly ridiculous. Of course she hadn’t been with anyone, and what difference would it make if she had? He hardly recognized his own primitive reactions. The sexual energy surrounding them had to be stimulating every reaction and heightening his senses and emotions. “Yes, I am insane,” he admitted. “I want you so much I don’t even know what the hell I’m saying anymore.”

“Then shut up and kiss me. And for God’s sake, Nicolas, get inside of me before this entire island goes up in flames.”

He leaned down as she strained upward to find his mouth with hers. He kissed her with every fiber of his being, a hot blend of passion and possession. Their mouths clung together until she fell back, her hips rising to meet the slow thrust of his. He was stretching her, pushing through her hot, slick folds, burying his body deep to join them together. He felt thick and hard and too big for her body. The burning increased as he thrust deeper.

“Nicolas.” She didn’t know if it was a protest or a plea. Lights were dancing behind her eyelids and flames licked at her skin like tiny tongues. Real or imaginary, was beyond her determination. She wanted to lift her hips, to drive herself onto him, yet at the same time, she wanted to run from the waves of sensations she couldn’t stop. The world as she’d always known it seemed to come crashing down around her in splashes of color and sparks and waves of intense pleasure that rocked her body.

She clung to him, digging her fingers into his arms to anchor herself in some reality. The sexual energy crackled and danced around them, through them, building the pleasure almost to the point of pain. He moved. She cried out. He caught her hands and pulled them over her head, gripping her tightly while he surged in and out of her.

Nicolas knew he was losing control, that the energy invading them was beginning to consume them both, but they were so caught up in the throes of making love, so completely lost in each other’s body, it didn’t matter. He let himself go with it, burying himself deep in the haven of her body, allowing the hot, tight slickness of her to carry him away.

He felt her body tightening around his, the small muscles gripping and clamping as he increased the pace, adding to the friction and the wealth of heat and fire. He didn’t want it to end. He never wanted it to end, but her body was already rippling with life, a strong orgasm that rushed over her like a tidal wave and carried him with her.

Nicolas heard his own voice, a harsh, hoarse cry torn from his throat. His fingers tightened around hers as he emptied himself into her, thrusting hard, wanting to be as deep inside her as he could get. He lay over her, not wanting to move, wanting to feel her body pinned beneath his. He bent his head to capture her breast in his mouth, feeling the exquisite clamping of her muscles around him in another explosive shock wave.

Strangely, he didn’t feel completely sated. His body was, for the moment, although he was still semihard. He wanted to eat her up. He felt on the edge of violence, a primitive possessive darkness that welled up out of nowhere and took hold of him. He lifted his head and looked warily around the small cabin, as if seeking someone, or something, that might try to take her from him. The sheer intensity of his feelings shocked him. It was as if he was driven to possess her. To leave his mark on her skin, on her breast, inside her body. His tongue stroked caresses over her, lapping at the valley between her breasts. “I don’t want to stop.”

It was a small admission, and it didn’t tell her of the terrible driving need he couldn’t seem to get back under control, but she felt it. Felt his tension rising instead of dissipating. The energy was relentless, demanding every ounce of force it could get from their union.

Dahlia had to tug her hands loose to frame his face. She forced her body to relax beneath his, accepting the way his hands immediately began to stroke her, to claim her body for his own. He was everywhere, touching her, kissing her, scattering her thoughts in all directions while he explored her body with a voracious appetite. He didn’t leave a single spot untouched, bringing every nerve ending to life, tasting and caressing. His touch was so tender she felt close to tears, and then he was almost rough. To her astonishment and pleasure, her body responded to his with rushes of hot liquid. She felt as if she could never get enough of his body, of his touch or his kisses, always wanting more.

He took her a second time, riding her hard, needing everything she could give him so he could find peace in the midst of the whirling energy. It seemed elusive, impossible, as the pressure built inside of him, even stronger than the first explosion had been. Flames danced on the windowsill, and he wasn’t certain which of them was generating the fire this time, but he couldn’t seem to get enough of her. He couldn’t touch her enough, or kiss her enough. He wanted his mark on every inch of her body. It was imperative to know she was there under his body, accepting his possession of her, needing it in the same way he needed to bury himself inside of her.

He built the heat fast and hot, reveled in her urgent moans, kept her hungry for him, wanting him long into the night. He took her the third time with tenderness, so gently, so reverently, she climaxed almost immediately, bringing him finally to some sense of peace, as if they had finally used up all the energy engulfing them from sheer exhaustion. Nicolas pulled her body into the shelter of his and held her tightly. The air around them was blessedly still and a tranquil sense of harmony settled over him. He kissed the top of her head, rubbed her rich hair with his chin. “Are you all right?”

Dahlia looked around the room to see if they’d done any major damage. The windowsill looked a little singed, but there were no fires. She closed her eyes. “We didn’t burn anything down. I’d say that was a major plus.”

“Did I hurt you?” He nuzzled her neck. “I couldn’t seem to get enough of you no matter what I did.” He could see the marks on her breasts, her throat, even on her hip, strawberries that proclaimed she belonged to him.

She laughed softly, but didn’t open her eyes, drifting on a wave of pleasure. “I noticed. Is it supposed to be like that?”

He tunneled his fingers into her hair. “I may have gotten carried away.”

“I was always told a man couldn’t, you know, go more than once.”

“Me too. Guess we proved that myth wrong. Or maybe it was the energy pouring through the room. It can be quite useful.” The drowsy note in her voice tugged at his heart-strings. She seemed perfectly content, not questioning his darker reaction.

Nicolas stroked a finger down her cheek. She was so fragile and vulnerable lying beside him, yet he knew there was tremendous power in her small form. “Do you know how different my life is, how much you’ve changed everything in just a few short days? I never dreamt I’d be lying beside a woman and know that’s where I was supposed to be.”

Her fingers tangled with his. “It’s because I’m so restful.”

The faint twinge of humor in her voice was every bit as potent as her sultry tone. “I’m sure that’s it,” he agreed. “Go to sleep, Dahlia. I doubt if I’ll be able to wait very much longer to have you again.”

“Well restrain yourself. I’m very tired. Too tired to find my own space.” She yawned and burrowed closer to his body. “I never thought I could ever sleep like this, with someone wrapped around me. I read about it in books, and now I know why they do it. They’re so worn out they can’t move. It isn’t an option.”

Dahlia drifted to sleep with his soft laughter in her ear. She dreamed of him. Dreamed of a life with him. The sound of children laughing mingled with his laughter. She felt his arms around her, the warmth of his body close to hers, and she knew she loved him. That she would always love him. That without him, she would never feel alive again. Dahlia woke choking, her heart pounding, a cry torn from her throat.

Nicolas flung himself over her, his gun tracking around the room. “What is it, Dahlia?” He could feel her heart, wild and frenzied. His hand found hers and he pulled it to his own heart in a vain attempt to calm her. “There’s nothing here. We’re safe.”

She tried to withdraw, to tug away her hand, to roll into a ball out from under him. Nicolas was too heavy and there was too much of him. He seemed to surround her, his arms and legs everywhere.

The gun slid back beneath the pillow and he shifted to blanket her body, his hands stroking silken strands of midnight black hair from her face. “It was a bad dream, Dahlia, nothing more. We’re perfectly safe here.” Her eyes were wide with terror and he glimpsed the wounds there, raw, never healed, the wounds of a child without love or family. One that had suffered far too much. Lights flickered and shadows moved. He glanced toward the source, a window a few feet from the bed. Tiny flames danced around the wood.

He framed her face with his hands. “Calm down. Look at me, Dahlia. Tell me what’s wrong or I can’t help.”

“You! Us! What was I thinking? Let me up. I have to get up.” She pushed at his chest frantically, but without any real strength. It was more of a gesture of despair.

“Dahlia.” He said her name sharply, waited until she focused on him. “You have to tell me what’s wrong.” He bent his head to brush kisses across her eyelids, the tip of her nose. To feather coaxing little kisses along the corners of her mouth and chin. All the while he ignored the crackling of the flames along the windowsill. Dahlia had to calm her mind or the fire would spread.

“Don’t do that. Don’t make me care about you.” She pushed at him with frantic hands, her dark eyes very black and liquid with sorrow. “I can’t care about you and survive.”

“Breathe with me. Calm down so we can just sort this out together.” He kept a tight rein on his emotions, the burst of fear that he might lose her. Dahlia. Slipping through his fingers like water once again.

She calmed beneath his touch and the soothing tone, lying there looking up at him with utter terror on her face. “I can’t need anyone, Nicolas.”

“Of course not,” he replied. “We’re the same. We don’t need anyone. We’re choosing to share our time together. There’s a difference.”

Dahlia dragged air into her lungs, heard the crackle of flames and swore softly. “I have to put that out. I’m going to end up burning this cabin down yet.”

“Let it go. It will go out if you stay calm. You had a bad dream, that’s all.”

She shook her head. “I had a good dream. It scared me more than all the bad dreams in the world ever could.”

He brushed back her hair, his fingers lingering against her skin. “Do you think this is usual for me? I’ve never spent the entire night in a woman’s bed. I never wanted to. I didn’t like sharing my space with anyone until I met you. I’m not using you, Dahlia. I’m not going to say I don’t love your body, because I do. I could spend a lifetime making love to you and I’d never get enough.” Before she could answer him he bent to take possession of her mouth. Her beautiful, perfect mouth. He’d had a few dreams himself and they all had revolved around her sultry lips. His hand buried deep in her hair anchored her head so he could explore the rich taste of her. For a moment the room spun as if she were so enticing she made him dizzy.

He lifted his head. “Better?”

Dahlia touched her lips with her fingertips. “I honestly don’t know.” She glanced at the windowsill. The tiny flames were gone, leaving behind only black scorch marks. “How do you put out fire with fire?”

“One consumes the other?”

“Maybe, but why didn’t I ever discover that? I’ve tried a hundred ways, maybe a thousand ways, to neutralize the energy, but it never occurred to me that I might mix it with another kind of energy. I thought it would just grow in strength.”

Nicolas fell back against the pillow laughing. Dahlia sat up and glared at him. “What’s so funny?”

“You. You’re so funny. We just shared hot sex, awesome sex, the kind of sex a man can only dream about, and you’re analyzing it all like a scientist. So much for my manly male ego.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down onto his chest. “I think you’re good for me.”

She found herself raining kisses over his face, teasing the corners of his mouth and sliding her tongue along the seam of his lips just to watch desire flare in his eyes. There was a lot of power in being a woman, she decided as her hands caressed his chest and slid a little lower just so she could feel him catch his breath. Immediately she felt the hard, rigid length of him growing along her thigh where she wrapped her leg over his. It was happening all over again. She started out in control and then she was melting inside, wanting to please him, wanting to watch his eyes grow from icy cold to fiery inferno.

Gasping, she pulled back, sitting up, her thigh still over his. Her hair was wild, spilling around her shoulders and tumbling down her back. “I don’t want to feel this way about you.”

“What way?” He reached out and cupped the weight of her breasts in his palms, his thumbs brushing her nipples gently. “I want you to want me.”

“If it was just that . . .” she trailed off with a small gasp of pleasure as he dropped one hand to the enticing triangles of curls, his fingers burrowing into intriguing crevices and hollows. She shifted, her bare bottom rubbing over him deliberately so that he responded with a soft groan.

“You’re doing that woman thing, Dahlia. The thing you didn’t want to do.” Nicolas felt more relaxed than ever, leaning back, his head on the pillow, his body coming to life and Dahlia sitting so close to his groin he could feel the damp heat beckoning to him. She looked beautiful sitting there with her hair all over the place and her skin gleaming at him, looking soft enough to eat. He stroked her breast and ran his finger along her ribs to the indentation of her waist. “While you’re sitting there, maybe you could just reposition yourself a little to the left.”

“What woman thing?” she demanded, tossing her head, sending the curtain of silky hair swinging along with the tantalizing sway of her breasts. Her fist curled around his erection, tightened, loosened, fingers dancing and teasing, robbing him of his ability to think for a moment.

He watched her through half-closed eyes as she lifted her hips and with painstaking slowness, lowered her body over his. He didn’t move, allowing her to be in control while she mounted him, while she took him into her body. He could feel the way he pushed through her tight folds, the way her body was tight and slick and hot, welcoming his. He lay there, wondering why he had found her after all this time, why she connected to him, and how she was capable of sending such sensations of pleasure forking through his body when she began a slow, sexy ride.

He ran his hands over her skin. Her unbelievably soft skin. He traced the curve of her breast, the tuck of her waist, and the small curve of her hip and leg. When it wasn’t enough to watch her, to see her body sliding up and down his, he caught her small hips and took over, relentlessly driving them both to the brink and then slowing down to allow them to catch their breath. She was flushed, her eyes bright, her head thrown back. Dahlia loving sex with him. The sight of her like that sent an explosion welling up from somewhere deep inside him, gathering with a great force and pushing through his body like a wall of fire. She cried out as her muscles gripped and squeezed, and rippled with shock from her own release.

Dahlia bent over his chest to lay her head on him. He wrapped her in his arms and held her while their hearts raced and their lungs burned for air. Nicolas wanted her to stay there, right on top of him, her body still a part of his while he held her close. There was something comforting in having her so close to him, skin to skin. An intimate connection.

“I want you to take notice, Nicolas,” she pointed out, not bothering to lift her face from the warmth of his neck, “I refrained from whatever woman discussion thing you were accusing me of. You can’t throw it in my face.”

“Yes I can,” he objected, capturing her hand as it smoothed over his skin. He nibbled on her fingers. “You were definitely headed toward a relationship discussion. See? As a woman you couldn’t help yourself.”

“Is it in the manual?”

“Yes, page ninety-two I think. Right there in bold print, it warns men about the relationship discussion all women,” he bit on the end of her finger for emphasis, “that would be you, must have with their poor unsuspecting man.”

“I see. This relationship manual certainly has a lot of information in it.”

“It’s thick,” he agreed.

“I’ll bet it took you a long time to read it and commit it to memory.”

Her tone was mild, but he sensed a trap. He looked at her carefully, but she had her eyes closed and was nearly purring while she laid on top of him, her hair spilling around them like a silken waterfall. “I knew it would come in handy one day.” He couldn’t help the smile in his voice or his mind.

Outside the bedroom window, an alligator began to bellow with love, calling loudly for a mate. The sound reverberated through the room, making Nicolas nearly jump out of bed. As it was he brought up his gun and swept Dahlia onto the side of the bed with one arm. She collapsed into a small heap, laughing at him. “You’re saving me from an alligator.”

“If you don’t stop laughing, I may feed you to the thing. What the hell is that racket?” He glared toward the window as he sheepishly slipped the gun back beneath the pillow.

“It’s an alligator lovefest. Go to sleep. They’re just beginning a sweet serenade. I hear it all the time out here.”

He rolled over to come up on his elbow. He propped up his chin so he could stare down at her. “Tell me something about yourself. Something you don’t share with others.”

The smile faded from her lips. “Nicolas, I don’t share anything with anyone. Jesse was my closest friend, and I only saw him when he needed me to go out on a mission. When he came to give my orders we played chess once in a while, that was pretty much the extent of our time together. Milly and Bernadette took care of me, in fact, Milly’s always been with me, as far back as I can remember, but I didn’t share my innermost thoughts even with them. I didn’t dare.”

“Why not?”

“They didn’t encourage that sort of thing, and I knew they reported to someone. I didn’t want that, so I was careful. Even as a child I was careful.” She sat up, the long fall of hair cloaking her in mystery. In the dark, her eyes took on a haunted look. “I’m still careful. I don’t know how this all happened with you. I try not to think about it too much or I want to run.”

He glanced toward the door where the alligator nearest the bedroom seemed to have a caller waiting. “I wouldn’t suggest it at the moment. I think we’re surrounded.”

She paced across the floor on bare feet, snagging the shirt that had been discarded many hours earlier and shrugging into it. “Were you ever lonely when you were in the jungle, or did it seem like home to you, Nicolas?”

“It seemed like home. I knew the rules and relied on myself. I liked the sounds and smells and it was all familiar to me.”

“That’s the way I feel about the bayou. It feels safe to me. It’s the only place that does. I understand the rules here, and I wasn’t lonely.” She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. “I might be now that I’ve met you and got a taste of how other people live.” Her smile was sad. “I should have thought about it before I let myself get in too deep with you.”

“What’s too deep, Dahlia?” She was doing it again. She was so elusive he felt nearly driven to desperation. Nicolas took a deep breath, centered himself, and forced down the unfamiliar panic. “Come here, honey. Don’t get so far away from me.” There were a thousand secrets in her eyes, a thousand wounds. A lifetime of distrust and betrayal. Isolation. How did one overcome such things? Nicolas padded after her and drew her gently into his body.

Where before, the potent combination of Dahlia and sexual energy had sent him into a frenzy of need, of desire, now he felt tenderness, a need to comfort her. His kisses were gentle, coaxing, completely undemanding. “We don’t have to think about this too much, Dahlia. We both know we’re in untried territory. We have no idea what’s going to happen between us in the future. I know I want to be with you, and I know myself. I’ll find a way for us.”

Her hands came up to cover his. She was trembling. He knew she was afraid to face what must lie ahead for them. She’d taken steps out of the safe world that had been created for her. There was safety in not caring too much, not being involved too deeply. Dahlia had strict limits she set for herself and she stayed within those limits. He was dragging her further and further out into the open.

He brought both of her hands to his mouth and kissed her fingers. Kissed her palm. He wanted to make it better for her, take away the sting of not knowing love for all those years. He wanted her to recognize the real thing. He didn’t dare speak of it, he knew she’d bolt. He was getting to know her now, the sudden spurts of terror that woke her in the middle of the night. “Where were you going?”

There was a small silence. “The roof. I always feel better when I go up to the roof.”

Why did he hate the thought of her spending so much time in the middle of the night sitting out on a roof? He hugged her closer to him, scattered kisses through her hair. “Stay with me, Dahlia. Just lie in my arms and let me hold you. I’d say we’d leave the door open, but our friendly alligator is getting more and more passionate out there. I don’t want him to visit us.” Nicolas drew her back toward the bed. There was some resistance, but not much. She went with him, one slow step at a time, almost as if she were testing herself.

Dahlia went with Nicolas because she couldn’t resist him. He seemed to have a very negative effect on her self-control. She wanted to spend every moment with him because someday soon, she would be alone again. It was already too late to protect herself. It had never occurred to her she would find herself falling for him. The very thought of it made her slightly ill. She had learned to enjoy her solitary life. There were hundreds of benefits. She just couldn’t think of them when she was wrapped so tightly in his arms. When he was touching her with such tenderness she ached inside.

Dahlia allowed him to tug her into the bed beside him. She fit her body into the curve of his and instantly felt contentment. It shouldn’t have been that way, she should have felt just the opposite. She never allowed anyone to touch her, and she spent only short periods of time with people, yet she wanted, even needed to be with Nicolas. And that was terrifying.

His arms crept around her, his fingers tangling with hers. “Stop shaking.”

“Are you as afraid as I am?” Maybe it was admitting too much, but she had to ask. She had to know.

“Of course I am. This is new territory for both of us, Dahlia. I’m as vulnerable as you. I honestly don’t know how you got in, but I need you with me.”

“I’m not very lovable, Nicolas. I know that. I accepted it a long time ago.” When there was only Whitney standing in the dark telling her she was uncooperative and she wouldn’t ever get to have the things the others got. Even then, even as a child, she rebelled against that hard, absolute authority. She taught herself things didn’t matter. People didn’t matter.

Nicolas buried his face in the silken tangle of her hair and inhaled their mingled scents. “That’s not true, Dahlia. There was nothing wrong with you as a child, and there isn’t anything wrong with you now. Why do you think your nurse stayed all those years? Loyalty to Whitney? A pay-check? She was as isolated out in the bayou as you were, maybe more. She chose to stay with you, even if it meant deceiving you and living a limited life. She had no other children. I saw the earlier tapes, when you were a child. She was there, much younger, but she stood up to Whitney for you. And she was frightened by what he’d done.”

She rubbed her chin on his forearm. “You mean by the monster he created.”

“Not a monster, Dahlia. A GhostWalker. There are more of us than you know, and we are a family of sorts. You aren’t alone.”

She closed her eyes. She wasn’t alone at the moment and that was enough for her. Nicolas wanted to believe in fairy tales. She’d read her share, hoping for miracles, but in the end, there was no hundred-acre wood to play in with little stuffed animals. There was pain and crushing disappointment and betrayal. Tears burned behind her eyelids, but she refused to shed them, holding Nicolas close to her and allowing the rocking of his body to soothe her to sleep.