Sea Haven 01 - Water Bound

the other.
    There was another knife strapped to his leg. Another gun in his belt. A third one in a harness. Another knife and three small daggers in loops at his belt.
    She didn’t say a word but her breathing changed. She inhaled several times quite sharply. That made him want to smile too. She found his throwing stars and the two throwing knives, but she missed the garrotes sewn into his clothing.
    “What are you? Some kind of assassin?”
    He didn’t answer. She was tugging his clothing off of him, and he knew the instant she saw him as a man. Her hands stilled and she made a single sound, a low note he couldn’t quite interpret. He opened his eyes and caught her looking, her eyes enormous and beautiful, the lashes fanning the sweep of her high cheekbone. She looked up at him and he felt a physical jolt.
    She cleared her throat and tugged on his jeans. “Lift up.”
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    It was more difficult than he thought it would be. His energy was gone and his body felt like lead. He couldn’t control the continual shaking. She tossed aside his clothes and wrapped blankets around him, enclosing him in a warm cocoon. He found it interesting that she didn’t say a word about the numerous scars on his body.
    When she turned away, he caught her hand. He waited until she looked back at him. “I need my weapons. Just in case.”
    “You won’t shoot me. Or stab me. Or throw one of those thingies at me.”
    “No.”
    She snorted. “How would you know? You don’t know what you’re doing half the time.”
    “Still.”
    She sighed and began stacking weapons on the bed beside the pillow.
    “Fine. But I’ll be royally pissed if you try to kill me again. It’s getting old.”
    He frowned as he watched her pick up his clothes and the wet blanket she’d taken off her boat. She didn’t have an ounce of self-preservation. He was a stranger. She had marks from his fingers on her neck. He’d put a knife to her throat. Still, she’d given him back his weapons and turned her back on him as if it were all of little consequence to her. She wasn’t afraid of him , although he had a nagging feeling she was afraid of something—maybe not fear exactly, but she was worried or anxious.
    He watched her through narrowed, half-closed eyes, keeping his breathing regulated so that she dismissed him to take his clothes to the laundry room. He heard her but couldn’t see her as she started up the washing machine. Then she was back, meticulously wiping up her hardwood floor until it gleamed. She must have warmed some blankets because she stripped off his blanket and tucked two more around him, still muttering to herself under her breath.
    He really was far gone and confused, because he was beginning to find that habit rather adorable. As long as he remained focused on her, he didn’t think about pain or what the hell had happened to him. Or who wanted him dead. Or who he was supposed to kill. He didn’t want her out of his sight.
    She moved with a quiet efficiency that reminded him of the way water flowed. She paid attention to detail, and he noticed that she inspected the windows in the room. Once she ran her finger along the ledge and muttered a little to herself.
    She left the room and returned with a cup of water. He could see stream rising as she bent over him. “If you drink this, it will help warm you up. I’ve got to clean up the wound on your head. You’re still bleeding and it’s a 56

    mess.” She slid her arm under him and helped to half lift him, enabling him to take a few small sips of the warm water before she laid him back down.
    “Thank you.”
    She regarded him with her enormous black eyes. “You’re a mess. You really should be in the hospital.”
    He had the feeling she wanted him in the hospital, not because she thought he might die but because she wanted him out of her house—out of her bed.
    “I can’t.”
    She frowned at him and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “You’re pretty damned stubborn, aren’t you?”
    He thought that was evident and not worth answering, so he just let himself disappear into her eyes. She had beautiful eyes. He loved how liquid and soft they were. She started to move away and he caught her arm. “Don’t go.”
    “I don’t like people touching me.”
    He should have let go of her, but instead he rubbed the pads of his fingers up and down her bare arm. Her shirt was still half buttoned, and he was tempted to stroke her flat belly just to know the texture of her.
    “I