original room. Sometimes he'd come in here and
stand for hours, just gazing at her loveliness. Often, knowing no one was
around to see him, he would let his tears flow freely. Tears of heartache;
tears from her betrayal.
Sighing, Damon turned from the portrait and gazed about the room
again. A shrine to her. Out of his love, he had replaced everything she had
lost. This was what she'd had before all the troubles started. Before her
family intervened and ruined everything. Before she broke his heart.
He had few regrets in his life. They were useless and insignificant,
and they changed nothing. However, if he had to admit to one regret, he
might have told her to leave the house. Years ago, he'd had a volatile temper
and little discipline. Now he could control his rage and react with reason.
Still, he had no remorse for what had happened. It had to be done.
No, he would never regret killing McKenna's parents. They'd deserved
to die. He did, in his weakest of moments, wish that he hadn't made her
watch.
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Christy Reece
Three
Careful not to touch her, Lucas replaced the blanket around
McKenna's shoulders that she'd knocked off during one of her nightmares.
Settling back into the chair he'd sat in all night, he watched as she seemed to
sleep peacefully. Seemed. Ha . When was the last time McKenna had slept in
peace? In the three hours she'd been sleeping on the sofa, she'd tossed and
turned, mumbled and cried. He had only understood a few of her mutterings.
The words had made little sense, but the emotion in them had broken his
heart.
Before she'd fallen asleep, they'd talked for hours...most of the night.
He'd told her things he'd never told another living soul. Concerns and
worries he'd always kept to himself came out of him as though she were his
therapist. Of course, he'd kept some vital information back. He hadn't told
her about his once secret life.
When he'd joined the agency, he'd sworn an oath, and when he'd left
the agency, he'd sworn the same oath. Never talk about the organization few
people in the world knew existed. Having her know his background wasn't
pertinent to the here and now except for one tiny detail. He wanted to know
who she was running from, because he wanted to find him.
Would telling her make her trust him? She'd told him many things but
almost nothing about where she'd come from or why she was so frightened.
The information he'd gleaned about her had come from her likes and dislikes
and reading between the lines. She was young, afraid, trying so hard to be
strong and brave. And the obsession he'd had since meeting her had grown.
She'd fallen asleep around four. He'd been in the midst of describing a
sunset he'd experienced the last time he was in Tangiers. And like that
setting sun, she'd sunk into the cushion of the sofa and drifted into slumber.
It was one of the sweetest sights he'd ever witnessed. And one of the most
humbling. She trusted him. If she hadn't, she wouldn't be lying on his sofa,
vulnerable and open.
Lucas closed his eyes as arousal surged. Hell, having her trust him
was one thing; having her trust him enough to make love to her would be
altogether different. His angel would probably turn into a tigress if he made
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Christy Reece
one move in a romantic direction. He'd have to take it slow, lure her with
cheeseburgers and ice cream.
Arousal surged harder. He'd watched her devour both, and it'd been a
stimulating sexual experience beyond his understanding. Watching a woman
who looked as ethereal as a specter consume a massive amount of food
brought an unexpected lust to the surface. The pleasure she seemed to derive
from eating made him wonder if she would make love with the same amount
of energy and enthusiasm.
He shifted in his seat again. Thinking about that was getting him
nowhere. Lucas closed his eyes. A fifteen-minute snooze, then he'd resurface
to stare and to figure out how the hell he could hold on to a woman he