Darkness Bound

48

“Do you have any sense of self-preservation whatsoever?”

It seemed a reasonable query, delivered with a solemn, intent gaze, so Jack answered it honestly. “Yes. My sense of self-preservation is intact, thank you. As is my sense of empathy for other people who might be having a hard time. Which you seem like you might be having. Hence the question.”

Bizarrely, Hawk groaned. “You see—that!” He pointed an accusing finger at her. “Stop doing that!”

“Doing . . .”

“Being nice!” he shouted. “Being compassionate! Being . . . you!”

“Don’t be me,” Jack repeated, nonplussed. “Right. You’d rather I be . . . ?”

“Someone else! Anyone else! Be the cold-hearted b***h I thought you were before I got to know you better!”

That hurt. It also confused the hell out of her. “Why are you mad at me?”

He shouted, “Because you make me crazy!”

Jack dropped her arms to her sides. “Hawk—”

“No! Just—no! We’re going to keep walking, and you’re going to keep quiet, and we’re going to go into the colony, and you and I are going to forget anything ever happened between us. You’re going to get your story, and get the hell out of my life! All right?”

Jack wasn’t stupid. She understood men; she’d had plenty of experience with their rage, their possessiveness, and their irrationality when pushed into a corner.

She knew by his words and his tone and the fury in his eyes that she’d triggered all the dark, slinking monsters of his nature, the things he would never admit to himself that he felt or thought or needed, and in doing so, had sealed her own fate.

She’d driven him away.

She’d made him hate her.

She was going to die in this jungle, alone.

The realization sliced through her body, cold as winter wind.

Fine. Hate me. Leave me. Go back on all your promises.

You won’t be the first.

Calmly, quietly, looking Hawk dead in the eye, Jack said, “All right.” Then she brushed past him, striding ahead into the dark forest.

After she’d gone several paces, Hawk called from behind her, “You have no idea where you’re going.”

“Yes, I do. This way.” Jack shoved a branch out of her face that appeared from the darkness.

She heard his “Argh!” of exasperation, and hoped he choked on his tongue.

“Jacqueline, stop!”

Tch! Like I’m taking orders from you again! She kept marching forward, stumbling over tree roots, flailing her arms in front of her to keep away the vines and branches and something that hovered nearby, whirring ominously close to her head. Was it a bird? An insect? A vampire bat? With her luck, it probably was a vampire bat, and she was going to die in the rainforest with a furry, winged rodent attached to her neck, fattened with her blood.

Figures.

Hawk called her name again, angrier this time, and when she didn’t respond, he bolted after her. His immense speed brought him in front of her in a heartbeat. She stopped short, glaring daggers at him from only a few feet away.

He said tersely, “You can’t see. You’ll hurt yourself. You have to follow me.”

“I’d rather eat a pile of s**t than follow you.”

This line was delivered with zero emotion or expression; it was just a stated fact that had the blood rising in his cheeks. He studied her face for several moments.

“You’re angry with me.” “Your powers of comprehension are remarkable. Congratulations on your acute grasp of the obvious.”

His lips tightened. He folded his arms across his chest.

“Oh, not happy? If I recall, not two minutes ago you told me—so nicely, I might add—you’d rather I be the cold-hearted b***h you thought I was. Well—done. Here she is, b***h of the Century!” Jack spread her arms wide in a “ta-da!” gesture.

He snapped, “Stop it!”

“You stop it!”

“You’re acting like a child!”

Jack felt as if her eyes would pop out of their sockets. She yelled, “I’m acting like a child? You just punched three guys in the face because you thought they were making fun of you!”

He shouted back, “They were making fun of me! Because of you!”

“What?” she screeched, livid. “How was that possibly my fault—”

“It’s your fault that I’m here in the first place, babysitting, when I could be doing something a little more useful with my time!”

Jack gasped in outrage. “Well I’m so sorry I’m infringing on your precious time! No doubt you’d rather be spending it with Luiza—”

“It’s your fault for writing that article and pushing us into a corner and forcing our hand!” he shouted over her, stepping closer. He was furious, breathing hard, his eyes blazing green fire. “It’s your fault that I’m all upside down and inside out and can’t tell my ass from the end of my nose!”

“It must be hard since they both look alike!” Jack yelled, shaking in rage.

Hawk, vibrating rage back at her, stepped even closer and got right up into her face so they were staring at each other like two fighters in a ring waiting for the bell to sound.

He shouted, “And it’s your fault for making me feel all these . . . horrible . . . feelings!”

Then he reached out, grabbed her, pulled her against his chest, and kissed her.

For a moment there was nothing but cold shock and breathlessness. She was so stunned she didn’t even close her eyes. His mouth was hard and unforgiving against hers, a solid pressure without softness, but then he opened his lips and slid his tongue against hers.