The Beholder by Connie Hall Page A

they had caught, grinning like proud fishermen. The younger man was almost as tall as Kane, but smaller in stature. He had the same deep green eyes, but there was something unsure and unknown behind them, and his smile was there for the camera. His tawny golden hair was cut short. He was definitely one of Kane’s family members. The resemblance to Kane and the older man in the photo was unmistakable.
    Her gaze strayed back to the pretty woman, and she frowned as she left the room. She spread the blankets over him and waited. He stopped shivering and looked peaceful and quiet.
    Suddenly she felt very alone and weary, events of the past day and a half and all the stress that had accompanied them folding in on her like a landslide. She craved her quiet place, but knew that if she summoned Koda, he wouldn’t take her there. He’d already made that plain. Abruptly she felt depressed and exhausted and trapped with a man who saw her only as a hostage.
    She forced back her present depressing situation and felt hunger gnawing at her gut. When had she last eaten? She couldn’t remember and dragged herself to the kitchen. After rummaging through the cabinets, she found a bag of pretzels and a stash of sodas. Then she strode to the living room. She sat on the floor and leaned against the sofa next to Kane. Not a very substantial meal, but the pretzels filled her empty belly and the sugar in the soda tasted like manna from heaven.
    When she was full, she blew out the candles and pulled some of the down comforter over her. It took only a few moments of listening to the fire popping and Kane’s deep, even breathing before her eyes grew heavy and closed.
    She missed the face that peered in through the window and the two flaming eyes that stared at her.

 

    Chapter 7
     
    K ane woke, aware of the agonizing burning below his skin. Then he remembered driving here, but not much else. Had Nina Rainwater escaped? He thrust open his eyes, only to find her asleep on the floor near him, curled up at the base of the sofa, cocooned in a comforter. The pulse beating in her throat was the only sign that she was alive. A half-eaten bag of pretzels and an empty soda can turned over on its side lay beside her.
    He peeled back the comforter and let his gaze roam over her. She was lying on her side in a fetal position. Her mouth was slightly open. He traced the line of her sultry and pouty lips, perfectly sculpted, her deep, even breaths gliding through them. Long, sooty lashes formed dark half moons on her cheeks. Her thick hair was voluptuously mussed around her face and shoulders. She looked small and childlike, but womanly and desirable,too. Something about her made him want to stare at her like this forever.
    But he forced his gaze back to his own body. He remembered blood, lots of it. He lifted the ton of blankets on him and peered at the wounds. She’d changed his bandages and managed to stop the bleeding. She must have helped him walk inside, too. Most captives would have left him to die or gotten their revenge. Nina Rainwater had a kind heart. The notion disturbed him, made him feel beholden to her and responsible for her. He found himself reaching down to rub a strand of her hair between his fingers. It felt like tantalizing silk caught in his fingertips. Everything about her felt surreal, enchanted, bewitching.
    He stared at her luscious full lips. Vaguely he recalled trying to kiss her and the way she had pulled back from him. Always keeping her distance. He had a fuzzy impression of the term “witch” coming up several times. He remembered being angry that he couldn’t control his shifting and wanting to dominate her and feel her not pull away. That he remembered very clearly.
    He tamped down the notion. He had to keep his distance. She was like this insatiable thing eating away at him, chipping away at his resolve.
    Her eyes fluttered open, the blue in them reaching down deep inside him. She smiled, and two deep dimples formed in her