Ashley’s nostrils flared in annoyance as her gaze slid to Hawke before returning to Jessica.
“Someone should just shoot her and put us out of our misery,” she stated with another glare in Jessica’s direction.
“Someone nearly did,” Hawke informed her.
The statement made Ashley pause, her gaze narrowing on Jessica as the pouting, spoiled features transformed to cool, dangerous intent.
“Orders?” she asked Hawke. “Orders other than simply leaving?”
“Stand by,” he ordered without taking his gaze from Jessica. “I’m sure you’ll have the privilege of spending more time here soon.”
There were no smart-assed comebacks. Ashley gave a quick, somber nod before striding to the front door, opening it and leaving the cabin as quickly as Hawke had dragged Jessica back into it.
“Ashley’s not easily duped,” he stated with an air of lazy interest as his gaze flicked over her. “How did you get her in the basement?”
Cocking her hip, Jessica stared back at him mockingly. “Soda. I told her I had the extras stored downstairs and I wasn’t going after them.”
“Soda.” He gave a quick, hard shake of his head. “That girl is going to end up rotting her stomach with that crap. Or shooting you to get one. How did you get them this time?”
She kept her lips shut tight. There wasn’t a chance in hell she was betraying her source this time. The last time she had so unwisely told anyone who was sneaking her soda, that Breed had been transferred to parts unknown.
“You have no right to restrict them.” Dropping her arms from her breasts, she stalked into the kitchen where she moved to the coffeepot and the decaffeinated coffee sitting on the counter.
Another no-no. Coffee with caffeine.
“You have no right to risk your health with them.” He followed her, of course. “Dr. Armani warned you that the drinks could have an adverse affect on you and yet you still drink them.”
“And still, no adverse affects.” She turned back to him with a tight smile as she gripped the counter behind her. “You limit my sodas, my coffee and my chocolate. I can’t leave Haven and I can’t contact friends on the outside. I thought I was free, Hawke?”
That had been the ruling of the Breed Tribunal three months ago. She had been drugged, forced to follow the orders she had been given, and still she had managed to save the women that the pure blood society had tried to strike against. They had given her freedom, but it was so limited that sometimes she wondered if it was any different from the imprisonment she had suffered before.
“You are free.” But even in his voice she could hear the truth that she was anything but.
Shaking her head, she tossed him a mocking smile before pushing away from the counter and heading back to the living room.
“You can leave now,” she told him. “I’m safe and sound, as you can see. I don’t need you anymore.”
“Did you ever?”
There was a dangerous, warning quality to his voice that brought her to a stop in the doorway. She stared across the room at the fireplace, forcing herself not to turn back to him. Jess reminded herself that the pain she felt in her chest was a side effect of the fear and not any other emotion.
“I did, once,” she finally answered. “Did it do me any good?”
She didn’t give him a chance to answer. Moving from the doorway, she walked through the living room and into her bedroom beyond, where she closed the door quietly behind her.
Once, she had cried for him. She had lain on a metal cot, sobbed into her pillow and prayed that he would help her, that he’d at least visit her, that he would give her a chance to explain. That he would just talk to her.
It hadn’t happened. For twelve months she had lived in near isolation. Month by month the hope that she had clung to at first slowly receded until there had been nothing left.
As she moved across the room the door behind her squeaked open, causing her to turn on her heel and stare back at Hawke in surprise.
Thick black hair fell over his brow despite his attempts to push it back with his fingers. Golden brown eyes—not quite amber, not quite yellow gold—stared back at her with brooding intensity while the savage planes and angles of his face were more defined by the day’s growth of beard that darkened his expression.
Snug jeans conformed to powerful legs and thighs, spanned lean hips and tight lower abs. A denim shirt was buttoned over his chest, but did nothing to hide the muscular breadth of it.
He was so handsome he stole her breath. But that was normal for a Breed, she told herself. They were all incredibly good-looking in a rough and alluring way. They had been created for strength, endurance and killing. But they had also been created to please the senses of those who had created them.
As well as those who would see them. Hawke was the epitome of the rough and tough male. His gaze was brooding, his expression hardened, his body muscular and well formed. He was every woman’s waking fantasy.
He was the man she had dreamed about, ached for, and had finally given up on.
“I stayed away for a reason.”
She’d been out of the underground cell for nearly three months, and this was the first time he had broached the subject. She hadn’t dared mention it. She didn’t want to discuss it, didn’t want to deal with the emotions she knew would rush through her.
“You made the right decision.” Jessica stared back at him, refusing to back down, refusing to let him know how much his defection had hurt her.
Of all the Breeds she had known, he alone should have understood that she would have never betrayed them willingly.
“It was the right decision.” His nod was short, perfunc tory. It was an agreement that sliced at her soul.
“So why bring it up?” And why hadn’t she just let the subject drop? Why bring it up when it really didn’t matter anymore?
“We’ve been playing this game since you were released,” he stated, his voice quiet though dark with some hidden emotion that she wasn’t certain she wanted to name.
“And what game would that be? The one where I don’t want to be here? Or the one where you insist I stay? Go, do whatever you do, Hawke, and leave me in peace. And while you’re at it, keep the babysitters at home, if you don’t mind.”
“If you’d had a babysitter today you wouldn’t have nearly been killed.” There was an edge to his voice, an underlying anger that she knew burned inside her as well.
“I survived it.” She shrugged, though the fear at the thought of what had nearly happened couldn’t be shut off as effectively as she would have preferred.
“You survived it?” Male outrage dominated his features now. His eyes glittered with it; his expression was filled with it. “Son of a bitch, Jess, you were nearly killed.”
“Nearly doesn’t count. Would you leave now? I’d like to shower.”
She turned away from him, trying to appear nonchalant, uncaring. She very much wanted to live, but she had learned in the past year that the rules to her life had changed. Now if someone would just tell her what the new rules were, then she might have a chance at living.
The amazement slowly left his expression, but what replaced it sent a surge of feminine weakness racing through her system. A look alone shouldn’t have the power to weaken a woman’s knees and send arousal flooding through her system. It shouldn’t be bold enough, hot enough, that she could feel her sex flushing, swelling, instantly growing damp.
And a man shouldn’t have the senses to detect it. She watched as his nostrils flared, his gaze darkening as he recognized the scent of her arousal. It wasn’t fair, because she couldn’t sense his emotions, his arousal.
Her gaze flicked uncontrollably to the crotch of his jeans and she found herself swallowing tightly at the sight of a bulge that hadn’t been there before.