able to coax hidden thoughts from reluctant victims. Horrified at how easily she’d confessed, she mustered her strength and bolted for the door. He hooked her around the waist. “Easy,” he muttered. “Relax, chère, I’m not going to hurt you. But I will have answers.”
Megan sagged in his arms. Her trembling hands couldn’t grasp the doorknob. Pain throbbed from the rail spike hammering into her skull. Oh, the hunger was bad now, so bad, the craving for protein screaming its need.
Gabriel helped her sit on the bed. He picked up the cordless phone on the nightstand and dialed. He gave a crisp order for bacon, sausage and eggs and hung up, giving Megan a thoughtful look.
“Food first, then a hot shower. I’ll ask Mrs. Hemmings to find clothing that fits.” His heated gaze swept over her again, making her shiver. “You’re a size twelve, right?”
Outraged, she glared. “I’m a size eight.”
A smile tugged the corners of his mouth. He’d tricked her. Again.
“How the hell did you let yourself get this bad?” he demanded. “Didn’t you make plans, have supplies?”
Megan looked out the window.
“The truth, Megan. Why haven’t you eaten?”
With all her might, she shuttered her thoughts. Instead of invading her mind, Gabriel ran a thumb across her palm. The electrical contact sizzled, creating a shiver of erotic awareness. Megan stared at his strong, tanned fingers. He turned over her hand, frowned at the reddened scratches on the back.
“You got jumped. Someone stole your money,” he guessed.
“The fisherman smuggling us off Shadow Wolf island demanded more money than we’d planned.” Megan yanked her hand away.
“You’re a Shadow. Why didn’t you just steal money when you got to the States?”
“I’m no thief.”
“Then I suppose the car with your scent all over it is a rental?” he drawled.
Color ignited her cheeks. “I put an envelope filled with money and a note in the door of the owner’s home. It’s worth more than the price of the Ford, which has leaky oil gaskets, bald tires and finicky brakes. I might be a Shadow—” she spit out the word “—but we have integrity. Unlike you Normals, who turn in your own people for money. Because we are Draicon, like you. Like it or not, that’s a fact.”
“Normals?”
“Stop acting as if you have no idea what I’m talking about. Normals. What you ordinary Draicon call yourself, what you insist we call you. You think you’re normal and we’re not just because we can perform magick before puberty, unlike you, and we can shift and become invisible, unlike you.”
She gave him a pointed look. “With our gifts, I’d say we’re superior to Normals. Except I’m not racist. Unlike you.”
Amber glowed in his eyes. His wolf was emerging. As he raised his hand, Megan braced herself for the slap. Instead, he dropped his hand to her forehead, ran a thumb over the bruise.
“Some of us are anything but normal,” he muttered.
A brisk knock at the door announced the arrival of a cheerful, rounded woman bearing a wood tray. On the tray was a large china plate piled with food, silverware, a napkin and a tall glass of orange juice. Megan nearly moaned at the savory smells of bacon, sausage and fried eggs. The woman set down the tray on the nightstand, accepted Gabriel’s thanks and left.
Megan picked up the fork. Plastic, she noticed ruefully. Not much use as a weapon. This Draicon wasn’t a fool. She poked at the eggs.
“It’s not poisoned.”
His voice, close to her ear, made her jump. Megan speared a sausage, turned it over. “Sure, right.”
“If I wanted to drug you, chère, I’d merely put you to sleep with a mind suggestion, like I did back at the restaurant.” Amusement laced his tone. His gaze grew stern. “Now eat.”
Her hands shook so much she could barely bring the fork to her mouth. Eggs spilled onto the tray. Embarrassed, she shuffled the food around the plate. Gabriel paced over to the window and stood before it. Megan quickly ate, then wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. She drank the orange juice, feeling the throbbing hunger ease.
“Thanks for the food,” she managed to say.
Gabriel turned around. Shafts of yellow sunlight angled into the room, falling on him like a spotlight. Breath caught in her lungs. Denim jealously hugged every inch of his hard, muscled legs. He was gorgeous, with the face of a fallen angel, secrets lurking in those swamp-dark eyes. The sheer sexuality felt like a blast of heat in the air-conditioned room.
She wondered what it would feel like to run her hands over his firm muscles, splay her fingers on that hard chest, feeling his heart race with the same anticipation she felt.
He’s a cold, soulless killer, she sternly reminded herself. Megan drew in a breath, inhaling a spicy, rich aroma, like expensive men’s cologne. Instinct told her it was his own natural scent. Damn, he smelled good.
His knowing smile warned he knew she’d checked him out. Megan squashed her irritation.
“Can I take a shower alone, or are you playing guard dog outside the bathroom, too?”
“Through there is the main guest bath.” He pointed at a closed door. “Need help getting undressed?”
“I can manage.”
“I can wash your back,” he offered in a deep, laconic drawl.
Shivers raced through her. Megan envisioned herself in the shower, Gabriel running the soap down her back, gently caressing her slippery skin with his big hands, cupping her hips, pulling her against his naked body….
Not in this lifetime. “I always watch my own back,” she muttered.
“Watch or wash?” he asked softly.
“Both. Because I never know when someone’s going to stick a knife in it.”
His gaze grew thoughtful. “I’ll get the clothing for you. There are fresh towels and everything else you need in the bathroom.”
When she didn’t move, Gabriel sighed. “Come on, I’ll help you.”
As he grabbed her upper arm, Megan flinched. His gaze narrowed as she went to her feet.
“Take off your shirt,” he ordered.
A violent trembling seized her. This was it, then. After all she’d gone through, constantly moving to avoid the sexual threats, keeping herself pure because she had vowed never to give herself to a man unless it was done with love, it came down to this.
“Do you always molest your captives?” she bit out.
He was far stronger and bigger, but she’d go down kicking and screaming. And biting.
“I’m
