What the Heart Wants

Saving Yourself 101-2

For two long weeks, she had exhausted every resource she knew; yet Clint seemed determined to remain untraceable.

That fit his personality perfectly, the recluse. In another time, he would have been the most daring outlaw; the kind to make maidens swoon with a smoky glance. An outlaw that mothers would have warned their daughters to steer clear of based on unrevealed personal knowledge.

Currently, he didn’t seem to be far from that based on the many addresses and phone numbers, even zip codes displayed on her screen.

As she saw his current information staring at her, she could almost see those molten green and gold eyes taunting her from his thinned tan face, framed by his auburn locks.

Please let him be obese and out of shape. A shadow of the former heathen she had known. She could imagine the light of recognition dawning to narrow those eyes, while the mouth would tilt on one side to reveal a line of straight white teeth in a predatory grin framed by laugh lines and a solitary but happy dimple.

The nose had obviously been broken before (knowing Clint, more than once), and one fiery arched eyebrow was broken by the scar of a s***h from long ago. It was the face of a pirate or vengeful angel, definitely one who had barely crept into heaven as the gates had been closing.

She giggled despite herself at the image that conjured. One of him with a halo askew, tilting low over one eye and one wing missing obvious feathers from one altercation or another.

The heady sense she had just knowing where to find him was overwhelming, she could feel an intense tugging deep within her womb. Gone were all indications of fear or dread. The nightmare was vanquished by the possibility of meeting face to face with her very own wraith. The wolf king was found… now to bait the trap. And wait.

With all the unearthly talents she attributed to him over time, she half expected him to materialize beneath the shadowy veil of the porch decking. But no, the house was so eerily still that she knew someone was watching her from within, someone or something.

Suddenly, she could feel the full impact of the summer day, the intense heat literally making it increasingly hard for her to draw in her next breath. The back of her neck, despite being hidden by her tangled mass of multicolored hair felt ablaze, and specks of multicolored light began to gather in her field of vision.

Sasha felt as if she was wearing a corset or a boa constrictor at this point, she would choose the snake in hopes of chasing away the collecting red haze. Panic seized her as she could feel the earth beneath her feet begin to give way and rise up to meet her. Her last valid thought being, “He is more powerful than I thought. Damned devil.”

The sight of her lying there neatly arranged in perfect chaos, a leg bent here, an arm thrown over that way and the other hidden beneath her crumpled mass. She looked to him like a beautiful mistreated doll, once cherished by a spoiled child and yet discarded for the newest treasure.

Her chest rose evenly, as if in slumber… her face a blanket of peace except for the few smooth lines marring her forehead. Betraying her internal battle, perhaps confusion. Resting, yet clearly confused as to how her mistress found another toy more beguiling than she.

But she was no toy, she was real flesh and blood, and from somewhere deep in the recess of his mind he recognized her. He could feel a connection, but couldn’t quite place it. A singular pull, as if some unknown part of them was hewn together with the most tense and delicate of threads. A steele cord.

Clint couldn’t understand his sudden compulsion to take this strange woman into his arms, just to make sure she was okay of course. For some unknown reason, his world had just snapped sharply back into place. All his senses were alert, senses he hadn’t used in ages, even senses he’d given up.

Something was terribly wrong. And it had everything to do with this mysterious mistreated doll of an unconscious woman lying at his feet.

Clint could have sworn she wasn’t injured, but as soon as he had her secured in his arms, he was alarmed by the shallowness of her breath, the scant weight of her and the lifeless feel of her limbs. He could feel no girdle or stays beneath the thin cotton sundress she wore, but her breathing was not right. Something was indeed terribly wrong.

The wolves had surrounded her. Never before had they given chase so viciously and overcome her so fast. This hunt made all the others appear the child’s play they had been. She was totally surrounded with no alley of escape. There were so many glaring and snarling she could not even count the number.

She had errored. She should NEVER have come here, into their territory.

Their grounds.

Their den.

And where was their master? If he didn’t make haste, he would only be able to make sport of her bones on this day… if there were any left.

Looking into the face of her demise, she wondered why her life didn’t flash, they were so enraged at her encroachment into their territory; yet they stayed their attack.

Why, what were they waiting for? The suspense and tension alone were going to be her undoing, even now she could feel the quaking begin deep in her bones, matching the panicked palpitations of her heart (and shallow panting).

He wasn’t here, he wasn’t going to come. There would be no saving her this day.

Clint couldn’t understand why he couldn’t rouse her, there was nothing outwardly wrong with her. Nothing broken, very little bruising, a small knot on the back of her head and a scrape on her wrist. None of which should stay her return to consciousness. He was beginning to worry for that reason among many other newly hatched thoughts. Maybe she hit her head harder than he’d originally thought.

Brushing aside her ridiculously thick and tangled hair, he finally recognized his unconscious intruder.

Clint never thought he would see NaStashia DuMont again, unable to stop himself from physically recoiling in shock,

Clints jaw & hands dropped simultaneously.

His dark angel of vengeance had disappeared from his life so suddenly, with no explanation, it was clear she wanted nothing more to do with him. Especially when she reappeared as another man’s lifeline.

And he hadn’t felt he had the right to intercede… not after what he’d done to her. He had nothing to offer her at the time, things were much different now.

But why had she reappeared here, now… in his life? On his doorstep?

And why was she in such obvious distress? And unresponsive to all his attempts to revive her.

Leaning in to examine her facial features, he could see that, even after 15 years, not much had changed. Her face had fulfilled the promise she had shown of how lovely she would become in maturity, if only he had waited. As beautiful as she now was, he could see the promise of even more future glory in her unconscious visage.

His breath caught and quickened as his fingers this time gingerly met with the silky strands of silver streaking her temple to blend flawlessly with the steel tresses ranging from chocolate to orange, then on to gold and back again. His loins quickened with a unbidden glance at her slightly parted lips, shaming his thoughts.

How could he ever have surrendered such a treasure, no matter the cost? He would give his credentials, degrees, all he had accomplished to go back to when she belonged only to him. He would have willingly laid his life bare for the chance to possess such a prize. To watch her body ripen and quicken, gently swelling with his seed.

Where had that thought sprang from? He raked his hand down his face then through his hair, to try and refocus. He hadn’t seen this woman in 15 years, and the parting was not pleasant.

Her skin was smoother than even his fantasies would allow. As supple as women half her age.

She was a sorceress, he’d always known since he first met her. She was like no other woman alive or dead.

She appeared in her first flush of youth, the way she was when only he had biblically known her, only better. The subtle blush rising from her throat, blooming in her cheeks, her slightly parted full, moist lips. F*ck, she is unconscious... what is wrong with him?

She still bewitched him. Tested his control. He would have to focus… this was not the time.

Try as he might, he continued to appreciate her attributes, his gaze dropping of its own volition back to appraise her physique.

She obviously still kept in shape, and surprisingly she still hadn’t shaven those baby hairs on her shins or behind her knees that matched the tiny blonde ones on her throat and temples. He chuckled despite himself, a deep rumble from within that started near the center of his chest and radiated outward.

He marveled at how good it felt to be in her presence. He could still derive pleasure from simply teasing her, how good it felt to even laugh in her company. How long had it been since he had laughed so freely, felt so content?

She could actually still affect him so deeply, even as much as ripping uncontrollable mirth from him, while unconscious.

Closer inspection of her face revealed deep boroughs beneath her eyes. The kind wrought from sleepless nights or fits of tearfulness and temperament. He wondered silently which had caused these blemishes on her caramel skin.

Clint was suddenly irrationally angry. He didn’t know why, it didn’t make any logical sense, but his blood progressively continued to heat even as he tried consciously to stop it.

She was still unconscious. He had to focus, he would not let her… let her what? He needed her awake. Now.

“Damn it, Sasha. Wake up” he snapped crossly, turning away in frustration at his own blasted weakness. What if she didn’t wake. What on earth would he do then?

He would have to be blind to miss the 4-carat diamond she wore on a very significant finger. He should not be feeling these things for her still, he admonished himself in disgust.

He had to get ahold of himself, he thought, as he raked both hands through his auburn hair and pulled. Just to assure himself he wasn’t dreaming, that his Sasha was indeed at his home, in his bed… and still very unconscious.

He had to get away from her, to repair his sanity and halt his spiraling emotions. Clint knew even as he thought the idea that it was too late for him to recoup his runaway emotions. He would make a fool of himself repeatedly just in hope that someday Sasha would know & understand how he felt about her.

He didn’t need her to reciprocate. He would never again voluntarily let her go. He was lost to her, he always had been, since the day she’d set those changeable gray eyes on him. Sasha had seared his soul with her unwavering gaze, and he had never been the same.

He had known it then, yet tried to hide it, then deny it and even run from it. He had finally chosen to ignore it when she had abandoned him, he’d pretended indifference and sworn he didn’t need or want her.

That he’d go on with his life without her. He had even tried to convince himself that he’d be better off without her, but they were vows made of bitterness. Strewn from her rejection and the fact that, despite all of that, he still wanted her… still, more than ever. And it had stung that she hadn’t felt the same.

After all they had endured and conquered.

Clint rose suddenly and began to pace. His animosity increased when he noticed on a pass that her breathing calmed and her brow eased in proximity to distance from him.

With a growl of frustration, he exited the room, slamming the door with a flourish.

He was a damned fool.

Probably always would be, because he still wanted her. Despite her obvious lingering physical rejection of him, he would forever be bound to her. To love her.

Sasha

The hackles on the back of her neck rose when she heard the chuckle. The wind caressed her hair, her cheeks, then the chuckle had sounded.

So maliciously jovial she felt as if her bones would melt due to the heated state of her blood.

Sasha didn’t care if the wolves ripped her limbs in every direction, she could not stay here. He was coming.

She could feel his breath, hear his even determined footfalls… but she had yet to see him. She could feel him surrounding her, each breath she drew held fibers of his essence, she could smell him. The delicious scent of cedar, sweat and frustration. Then thunder boomed in the cloudless sky, and he was gone.

They were all gone. He was much more powerful than when last she’d encountered him.

Sasha’s apprehension had taken its toll on her body, she was exhausted, she began to float in a dark, dreamless, empty void. Vacant of even her own awareness. It was here that she could rest, gather her strength for the upcoming battle. She couldn’t remember feeling this safe in a very long time. But once…

Sasha felt safe and warm waking in the morning light, stretching self-indulgently to remove the last traces of slumber from her limbs. She had yet to open those piercing eyes, and Clint waited breathlessly in the corner for the moment when she noticed her surroundings.

Despite the lazy feeling of contentment, she knew things weren’t as they should be… her eyes flew open in a panic. Reflected in their depths, he couldn’t read the horror he’d expected to find but awe as they came to lite directly on him.

Unabashedly (as always) staring straight into his soul. He was reminded of the first time she had ever looked upon him & unlike before, this time he knew that this was a new beginning. To what, he did not know, but he also didn’t care.

Clint’s immediate excitement was a tangible thing and he instantly regretted the fear he saw pounce into those molten orbes upon her realization. He hesitated only a moment, thinking not to panic her & almost altered his manner, then decided against it.

Deception would not enter here, he would not allow it.

Casually he continued to dress, as he had been doing when he noticed her stirring. He fained abject indifference in hopes she could relax her guard enough to regain her wits. Several tense moments ensued as Sasha got her bearings and gathered up her courage to face her living, breathing nightmare.

He could see her at war with herself. He only hoped the battle would not cost him everything, that there would be some tattered shreds remaining with which he could repair the damages… and save them both.

How had she come to be here? She never intended to be snared in his trap and wind up in his lair. What on earth was wrong with her?

“What have you done to me” Sasha asked in a more accusatory tone than he was obviously expecting.

Sasha fidgeted unconsciously, pulling up the coverlet while forcing herself to await his play patiently, while he pretended as if she’d never spoken.

“Nothing like what you deserve.” He paused to spear her with those amber eyes, “You black-hearted harpy, “ he replied, stopping all movement so that she could gauge the molten heat in his glowing eyes.

Her gasp was caught in her throat as he began advancing on her from across the room. Three angry strides brought him up short, he crouched to glare eye to eye with her, battling will to will.

Clint knew she would never surrender & he hoped he could at least make a good show of it and then pretend disgust or indifference. Yet he barely concealed his surprise when she averted her eyes in defeat.

Still he prayed she hadn’t seen his look of longing as he had met those haunted gray eyes.

Brought to life, the doll was more beautiful than he could have imagined. She was captivating, and he was not prepared.

Kneeling there before her, he gently repaired the disarray of the tangled blankets. He couldn’t handle the added distraction of her shapely legs, and even though she’d been a competitive athlete… she still had those perfect feet. He remembered another night when she had brought him to his knees before her with a simple statement.

Slowly, he cupped her chin to force her to meet his entreating gaze. He could feel the defiance in every fiber of her spine and see… regret in those silvery depths.

“Regret, Sasha. What do you regret? Would you really change it, or take it back?” He queried whimsically with raised brows and genuine undisguised tenderness as his hands fidgeted to caress her chin.

This was not the beast her memory had fabricated, this was the man she had known he would become… the one she could have loved forever.

This was danger.

Before she could stop it, she leaned into his hand, closing her eyes, seeking the satisfaction she knew she could find in only his embrace.

Clint, jolted by surprise, was just as powerless to stop his arms from enfolding her, imprisoning her to his chest while his mouth sought to suffocate her.

This new kiss was so similar to those of the past, yet tinged with new and different dangers in its unhidden, possessive intensity. Prompting both to lay bare their common desire unbidden.

And once again, just like that… they were on one accord.