Drake Sisters 06 - Turbulent Sea

her safe. She turned to run toward the front of the bus and what she clearly thought was the safe harbor of her driver's presence. Ilya caught her when the bus lurched, and she almost went down. Drawing her against him, he caged her between his much larger frame and the door of the closet. He could feel tremors running through her body.
    He stood for a moment in silence, absorbing the satin heat of her skin, the silk of her hair and the soft feminine curves molded against him. He inhaled her, the scent feminine and clean, yet holding a hint of spice and more than enough sultriness for ten women. She kept her head down, holding herself still, like a cornered mouse, though he knew she was a tigress when riled.
    'Why are you suddenly so afraid of me, Joley?' His hand cupped the nape of her neck, his fingers sliding in the thick wealth of her hair. 'What do you see in me that frightens you?' His other hand held her wrist loosely, keeping the palm of her left hand - the one he had marked - pressed against his hip.
    For a moment he thought she wouldn't answer, but Joley wasn't timid. Even afraid, she would face him. He felt her steel herself, that tremor that ran through her body, and she straightened, her back stiff, shoulders rigid. Respect and admiration rose in him. He tightened his fingers around her wrist and pressed her palm hard against his thigh. He felt his mark on her like a burning brand, right through the denim of his jeans.
    'Your aura.' Joley choked getting the words out. 'Your face gives nothing away, but I see what's inside of you.' A volcano, on the verge of erupting into a violent maelstrom that would blast anything and everyone out of his path. He would mow them down as if they were straw in the wind. The truth of what and who he was terrified her, because if there was one man totally capable of death and destruction, she was standing in front of him, with his mark on her - all over her.
    'She's a child. What? Thirteen? Fourteen? Do you think I shouldn't be affected by her disappearance simply because she's a stranger?' His voice was gentle, low and caressing, reassuring. 'She's a teenager at most, and she was in a place she shouldn't have been. I was there to keep an eye on things, to prevent anything like this from happening. Instead, my eyes - and my attention - were on you, and this child slipped past me.'
    It was the melody in him that soothed her now. Once again his song had changed, and the notes were comforting and calm, as if that violent rendition had never been. The steady beat of his heart was strong and precise, the beat that set the rhythm for his life. Calm. Exact. Absolute. The symphony rising around him sang to her, touched her where words might not have gotten through.
    'That wasn't concern I saw in you just then.' Her mouth was still dry, although her heart had calmed and the adrenaline rush was fading.
    'You grew up very differently from me, Joley. In the world where I live, when young girls disappear, very unpleasant things happen to them.'
    Joley let her breath out and nodded. 'Unfortunately, this time I have to agree with you. I'm afraid for her, Ilya. I have a bad feeling about this. She called her mother to tell her where she was even when she wasn't supposed to, and that speaks of someone who wasn't running away from home.'
    'I'll find her.' Ilya spoke with that same absolute confidence his heart beat with. Rock-steady and deliberate.
    She stared up at his face, mesmerized by the determination there. His expression was one of the same utter calm, but his eyes glowed like a fierce warrior of old. Whatever Ilya was or was not - he cared about that young missing girl.
    Joley didn't doubt for a moment that he was going to find her one way or another. He would never stop, never give up, until he had knowledge of what had happened to that child. He hadn't given up on Hannah when the odds of saving her had been impossible, and he wouldn't give up on the missing girl.
    Joley yawned and hastily tried to cover it. She took a step toward a chair as exhaustion settled back into her body.
    She stumbled and Ilya caught her waist.
    'You're so tired you don't even know what you're doing.' He tugged on her wrist and walked her to the back of the bus, where her bed was. 'Lie down while we talk so I know you're at least resting.'
    'I've never done this.' The confession felt silly. She had never closed her eyes with a man in her room. She didn't have that kind of trust. The simple act of lying on