Amber Eyes (Wild 2)

Hunter hesitated then looked beyond him to where Kaya lay. “You hold her. She’s easier around you. I’ll…I’ll do the setting.”

It was on the tip of Jericho’s tongue to call Hunter a coward, but what would that solve?

“I’ll get some linen strips and something to brace her arm. You rustle up some of that whiskey left in the cabinet. It might not help much, but maybe it’ll relax her.”

Jericho turned, not waiting for Hunter’s acceptance, and went to collect the items they needed. He had a sick stomach over what must be done, but he swallowed against the rising nausea and methodically gathered the supplies.

A few minutes later, he returned to find Hunter settling down next to Kaya and offering her a tall glass of whiskey. She murmured a protest, but Hunter was insistent. He pillowed his arm underneath her neck and raised her enough so she could drink without choking. She coughed and sputtered, but Hunter managed to get all of it down her throat.

She sank weakly back against the cushions, her injured arm tucked protectively against her side. Her liquid eyes found Jericho, and he was astonished to find trust burning a warm, golden glow.

Hunter stood and set the empty glass on the floor a few feet away. With brusque movements, he took the strips and the two pieces of wood from Jericho and gestured impatiently for Jericho to go to Kaya.

Jericho took position at her head, lifting her gently and positioning her so that she lay across his lap and rested her head on his chest. He smoothed her hair from her face as Hunter knelt on the floor in front of the couch.

“Cry out all you want, honey,” Jericho murmured against her head. “This is going to hurt like a bitch.”

Hunter tensed as his fingers moved nimbly over her arm. Jericho turned away, unable to bear the sight of the arm being set. His grip tightened around Kaya as he prepared himself for her screams.

But she didn’t make a sound. She coiled like a nervous rattlesnake, so tight that he could feel every quiver of her muscles. She buried her face in his chest, and when Hunter forced the bone back into place, her hot tears soaked into Jericho’s shirt.

It was worse than any cry she might have made.

He kissed the top of her head, helpless to do anything but wait until Hunter was through binding the arm.

Hunter rocked back on his heels, his expression stormy. He stood abruptly then glanced down at Jericho. “You should take her to bed so she can rest.”

Without another word, Hunter strode to the kitchen, and Jericho heard the clanking of dishes.

“Are you feeling any relief yet?” he asked Kaya.

Slowly she drew away until he could see her red, tear-stained cheeks. She nodded and clutched her splinted arm to her chest. “I’ll be fine, Jericho. Now I must rest and heal.”

As if seeking to comfort him, she put her free hand to his jaw, resting her fingers on his cheek.

“I will be all right.”

He grasped her hand and moved it over his lips so he could kiss each fingertip. With exquisite care, he eased forward, holding her like she was precious glass. Then he stood, hoisting her up until she rested against his chest.

With a weary sigh, she laid her head against his shoulder, and her eyes were closing before he got to his bedroom. He gave thought to getting her another change of clothing, but he was too afraid of hurting her, so he put her on the bed and pulled down the covers.

She settled among his pillows with a sigh that sounded blissful. Her splinted arm rested over her side as she snuggled deeper into the covers.

How soft and utterly feminine she was. He liked the way she looked in his bed. Liked it very much. She was perfection. Slim. Long legs that sprang from rounded hips. Just a slight curve that didn’t upset the lithe lines of her body at all.

A narrow waist that led up to small, high breasts with just enough plumpness to tease a man. His hands itched to touch her. To caress her and show her all the gentleness he was capable of. Lord it had been a long time since he’d ached so badly to hold a woman.

“Are you coming, Jericho?” she asked around a sleepy yawn.

He hadn’t realized that he was still standing there staring down at her like a moron. Then he blinked at how normal her request sounded. Like a wife asking her husband if he was coming to bed.

Jesus. He needed some of that whiskey Hunter had given her.

He kicked off his clothing and then crawled into bed next to her. The sheets had cooled since his abrupt departure almost an hour earlier. He could feel her shivering.

As soon as he moved closer to her, she snuggled against him, fitting her slight form to his with no hesitation. Again she sighed, and her breath blew over his neck, sending forty thousand chill bumps dancing down his spine.

No matter what he may have done wrong in hi

s life, no one deserved to be tortured like this. What kind of a sick joke was it to have a gorgeous, naked woman wrapped around him like a second skin when she had a broken arm and he was supposed to temper his raging hormones?

She was asleep in a matter of seconds while he lay there, wide awake, his body jumping through hoops while his mind tried valiantly to think of other things.

Gradually he relaxed, positioning his arm over her hip, mindful of her injury. He drew her closer until they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.

Damn but she felt good. Right.

And now that she was asleep, he was forced to go over what he’d witnessed in the living room. The sheer impossibility of what she was, of what she’d done.

Part of him wondered if he hadn’t finally gone off the deep end. Too much work. Too much stress. But that wouldn’t explain why Hunter had seen the same damn thing. They couldn’t both be nuts.

No matter how many times he told himself that it wasn’t possible, he had to face the fact that it was. That the world as he’d known it, simply wasn’t. And if he’d been wrong about this, what else was he wrong about? What else existed out there that was beyond his realm of understanding?

For a man who prided himself on his acceptance of harsh reality, there was no way to reconcile this in his mind. No, he didn’t understand it. He wasn’t even sure he accepted it. All he knew was that he wasn’t about to let Kaya walk away again.

But she spent the majority of her time as a wild animal. How could he stop her when she decided to go?

Chapter Twelve

Kaya woke, shivering in the grip of a dream that had haunted her sleep for years. Her gaze automatically shot to Jericho who had turned over so that his back was to her. There was at least a foot of distance between them, and the urge to move closer to the heat emanating from his body was strong.

She glanced at her aching arm, unable to tell in the darkness how much the swelling had lessened. On the edges of her mind, the shadows grew. Lengthening until she swallowed against the unbearable sadness.

She feared what would happen now that Hunter and Jericho knew her secret. She hadn’t gotten close to people over the years. The rapport she’d shared with these two strong, enigmatic men was the most intimate she’d had with anyone since her childhood. She hadn’t allowed such a bond before.

Again she glanced over at Jericho who hadn’t stirred since she’d awakened. Then, propelled by the need to see Hunter, she quietly crawled from the bed, favoring her broken arm.

The cabin was colder, the warmth from the fireplace all but gone. Outside the wind howled but no new snow fell. The windows shook and rattled as the cabin creaked and moaned against the bitterness of the elements.

She’d half expected to find him in the living room, but Hunter wasn’t on the couch. He’d probably sought the comfort of his bed. The floor cold beneath her bare feet, she turned to go toward the other bedroom.

The door was closed, an unwelcoming barrier to intruders. Much like the wall he erected every time he caught himself relaxing around her.

He was a loner, like her. Something about him called to her. Even though she knew he didn’t much like her—or the fact that he was drawn to her.

Carefully she opened the door and slipped inside. Pale moonlight shone through the window and bathed his face. Even in sleep, there was a seriousness, a closed-off expression that told Kaya how carefully he guarded himself from others.

For a long moment she stood over him, watching the rise and fall of his chest. She was so tempted to reach out and smooth the lines on his face, to ease the strain she saw around his eyes. He wouldn’t appreciate her tenderness any more than he wanted to be tender with her. And yet he was.

Finally she walked around to the other side and quietly slipped into the bed. She wanted nothing more than to curl up with him as she had done with Jericho, but she didn’t want to chance waking him and having him toss her out.

She frowned. No, he wouldn’t do that, but he would withdraw. He might even get up himself so he could put distance between them. Or he might hold her as he’d done on the couch. There was no way to know how he’d react from one moment to the next, and she only wanted a few moments to absorb his heat and scent.

She settled far enough away from him that she wasn’t touching him and pulled the covers to her chin. The warm blankets settled over her broken arm, irritating the sensitive skin. She twitched uncomfortably until finally she loosened her hold on the covers to allow them to slip from her arm.

Instantly, the cold skittered over her flesh and pulled goose bumps into a haphazard pattern. She closed her eyes and mentally reached for Hunter’s warmth just inches away. She imagined lying flush against him.

Soon the chill slipped away, replaced by the soothing comfort of her