Drake Sisters 05 - Safe Harbor

said as he backed out of the room.
    "Damn little toad," Jonas hissed under his breath. He sank back into his chair. "All he's thinking about is his commission."
    Hannah didn't turn her face back toward him. Her fingers opened and her hand slipped from his. His chest tightened and he forced back a wave of fear mixed with anger. His emotions were all over the place and he had to rein them in if he was going to do her any good. He straddled the chair and watched her for a moment, the stiff line of her body, her averted face.
    "Are you worried about the things he said? Scars? Losing your career?" He hadn't worried about anything other than her life. He wanted her alive any way he could get her.
    Aren't you?
    He bit back his first answer and analyzed the voice in his head. The advantage of telepathy was that the voice carried emotion with it, and she was hurt, but mostly terribly frightened. And she was apprehensive about how she looked.
    "You're not your body, Hannah. You never have been to me. I don't know about the rest of the world, all I can tell you is that I love you—the person. The one who makes me laugh and makes me so angry I could shake her. You make me feel alive. You make me feel cherished. I never had that, you know. My home wasn't like yours. Now, when I come, you have tea and cookies and half the time a meal waiting just for me.

    You always make me feel important—and that I belong." He cleared his throat, feeling a little foolish spilling his guts to her when she wasn't looking at him. "You make me feel like a man should feel—well—when you aren't mixing me the hell up."
    In spite of her fear, Hannah responded, turning back to him, her blue gaze colliding with his, and the impression of a small smile in his mind. You mix me up, too. Thank you. It's frightening not knowing what I look like .
    "Can't Libby heal scar tissue?"
    Do you think she's a miracle worker?
    Her question hung there. Ridiculous. Poignant. Ludicrous. And then he felt the burst of her laughter breaking against the walls of his mind and he wanted to weep. The sound was soft and true and so perfectly Hannah—his Hannah. The one few others knew. He needed to hold her to him. His arms ached to gather her close, but he was afraid of hurting her.
    Hannah reached up and brushed at his cheek. You have tears in your eyes, Jonas.
    Don't look so sad. I'm sad enough for both of us .
    He swallowed the lump threatening to choke him and caught her hand, bringing it to his chest. Her fingertips were the only actual skin he could reach and he rubbed the pads of his own fingers back and forth over them, needing the contact with her. "Are you sad thinking you might have scars?"
    She'd been so beautiful, astonishingly so. He could understand it and maybe it would upset him when he got over his fear of her being murdered right before his eyes—not this lifetime—or the next—but sometime.
    I didn't know anyone could hate me so much. What could I have done that would make someone want to hurt me this way? I don't understand.
    He brought her fingers to his mouth, kissing her, nibbling with his teeth, fighting back the waves of nausea and anger and stark, raw fear at the thought of a madman viciously stabbing her. "Nothing, Hannah. Absolutely nothing. He was mentally deranged. There's no explanation."
    She swallowed hard and tested her voice. "There has to be." Her voice was low and husky, still melodious, but a whisper of sound.
    That little whisper traveled right down his spine and through his body, rocking him, the way only Hannah could. There was nothing sexy about lying in a hospital bed, covered in bandages, but her voice, her eyes, the whisper down his spine, brought his body to instant alert. "I'm so fucking glad you're alive, Hannah."
    Hannah blinked at him, shocked by the burst of emotion pouring out of him when he was usually so reserved, so careful not to swamp her.

    "I'm here." It was all she could think to say when he was so torn up. She could feel the pain in him and it surprised her that he allowed her to feel it.
    He shook his head. "It was too close, Hannah. Too close. If Prakenskii hadn't been there…"
    Her brows drew together. I remember him now. He was chasing me. Through the crowd. I was afraid for Joley . She made a sound of distress and looked up at him. He asked me if she was a spell-singer .
    Jonas shook his head and glanced back toward the nurse. I don't know what that is.
    What's the significance? Because just the thought