"That's pretty." He wanted to go to her side, to drop onto his knees, take her in his arms and kiss her. Every muscle in his body quivered, wanting action. He forced himself to stay where he was.

"Thanks. It's my favorite." She stroked her hand over the soft fabric. Hank's eyes almost crossed. It was all too easy to imagine her hand stroking his dick in much the same fashion.

"How are you feeling?" His voice sounded hoarse and rough. He cleared his throat. "Better, I hope."

She set the sweater on the bed beside her. "I am. Feeling much better, that is." She ducked her head again, hunching her shoulders.

This wasn't going to work. Hank pushed away from the doorframe and stalked across the room. Her head jerked up, prey sensing the hunter. Her eyes flashed with fear before it turned to determination. This woman amazed him with her inner strength.

He went down on his knees in front of her and shoved the boxes out of his way to make more room. He took her hands in his, holding them loosely. "Don't be afraid of me." He couldn't bear it if she was.

She shook her head. "I'm not."

"Then look at me." Great, now he was ordering her around. Way to go, Brewer. That will reassure her and win her over.

She met his gaze and he stared into her eyes. Damn, they were gorgeous, the blue of a summer's sky, so soft, so pretty. He could stare at her all day.

The corners of her lips twitched.

He was acting like an idiot. He didn't give a shit. He'd make an idiot of himself all day long if it would lighten her mood and possibly make her smile.

"What are you doing here?"

"I had to see you," he answered honestly.

"From what I've heard you've seen me every night."

Busted. "Yeah. I was watching over you." He didn't trust anyone else to do it. Night was when Chrissten was most vulnerable, the time Brian was most likely to attack and try to take her back.

He tightened his grip on her hands and released them when she flinched. Shit, he had to be more careful with her. He pulled his hands away and sat back on his haunches. He hoped his sitting on the floor would make him appear less threatening.

She reached out and curled her fingers around one of his hands. He stilled, not wanting to make any kind of move that might cause her to pull away from him. The softness and heat of her hand soaked into his skin. She'd obviously bathed. Not only was she wearing a bathrobe, but her skin smelled like a field of summer flowers with a hint of vanilla. He wanted to eat her up.

Instead, he slowly raised her hand to his mouth and kissed each finger in turn.

She swallowed hard, watching his lips. It was a total turn on. His cock throbbed and his balls ached, urging him to take her. He continued to lightly brush his lips over her knuckles. Touching her even this little was better than sex with any other female had ever been.

"Why did you stay away?"

The hint of hurt in her question made his chest tighten. He hadn't meant to make her feel bad. "I didn't want you to feel pressured. You know, because of our kiss."

She lifted her free hand to her mouth and rubbed her fingers over her bottom lip. He sucked in a breath. Every muscle in his body ached to hold her. Shit, he had it bad.

"I liked it." She sounded breathless, like she was confessing some deep dark sin.

The corners of his mouth drew upward. He knew he had a big shit-eating grin on his face and didn't care. "Me too." He rubbed his fingers over hers. "Want to try it again?" Please, please, he almost begged aloud. He managed to keep his mouth shut and give her time to consider his proposal.

"We really shouldn't." She took a deep breath and released it. The motion caused the front of her robe to gape slightly. His eyes were drawn to the wide V of the robe, the soft flesh, the hint of a curve from her breasts.

"We really should." It would be so good. He licked his lips in anticipation.

A light blush covered her cheeks again and it struck Hank that Chrissten was still very innocent in spite of her experience. She'd never been courted by a male, never been made to feel special. No, she'd been brutally beaten and raped.

Fury melded with his very soul and he knew he'd never rest until Brian had paid for what he'd done to Chrissten.

As though sensing his anger, she drew back slightly. He forced his rage back, concentrating on only Chrissten and the present. Plenty of time to deal with Brian later.

"This is wrong. Nothing can come from this. I'm mated." Her words were blunt, her voice toneless. He didn't like it. Not one bit.

"There's nothing wrong with us sharing a kiss. You didn't give anything to Brian. Not freely. This is your choice. No one else's."

He wanted her to choose him, to want him as much as he wanted her. Unrealistic? Probably. No, definitely. But he didn't care.

"One kiss," he coaxed. "What can it hurt?"

She licked her lips again and he barely suppressed a groan. If his body got any hotter he was going to burst into flames. He wanted it to be his tongue stroking her lips, delving inside to taste her heat.

He waited, his heart pounding, his chest hurting as he sucked in much needed air. Beads of sweat broke out on his brow. He resisted the urge to swipe them away.

"Chrissten?"

Maybe he should leave. She didn't need him here pressuring her. And that's what he was doing. Disgust filled him. What the hell was he doing? She deserved better than this.

"I should go." He started to push himself off the floor.

"No." Chrissten threw her arms around his neck and held on. Hank froze, crouched in front of her.

"Tell me what you want." He placed his hands palms down on the mattress on either side of her, partly to help keep his balance and partly because he wanted to be as close to her as possible without touching her. This was her show. It was up to her to do the touching.

Chrissten stared into Hank's pale blue eyes. They were filled with an enticing combination of determination and lust. He'd been ready to leave her in spite of the fact he was aroused.

She could smell the combination of heat and musk rolling off his skin. See the flare of his nostrils as he breathed. His pupils were dilated and a muscle beneath his left eye began to pulse. It was late afternoon and already a shadow covered his jaw making him appear even more male, more intimidating.

He fascinated her.

She'd forgotten just how wide his shoulders were. But she did remember the roughness of the pads of his fingers when he touched her so gently. The combination gave her shivers. The good kind. Not the scary kind.

The muscles in his arms bulged beneath his shirt. She suddenly wished she could see them. See every inch of his beautiful masculine body.

What did she want? He'd asked her that but she wasn't sure of the answer. Or rather, she was sure but she wanted something she knew she couldn't have. She wanted him.

But she was mated to another male. Yes, it had been against her will, but that didn't change the fact Hank had to be able to smell Brian's scent on her.

"How can you want to kiss me?" She blurted the words out.

He cupped her face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over her lips. "How can I not?"

In that moment, she was lost to the sense of wonder, of possibility. She leaned forward and parted her lips. Hank met her and their mouths joined. Oh yes. It was even better than she remembered.

He tilted her head to one side to get a better angle and deepened the embrace. He nibbled on her lips before stroking them with his tongue. She did the same, tasting him, learning the shape of his mouth. His lips were firm but surprisingly soft for such a hard-looking male.

Hank was a study in contrasts. He was around the same size as her brother yet appeared larger because his shoulders were so much broader. His build was heavier, but there wasn't an ounce of fat on the man. He was all hard, sleek muscle.

She brought her hands to his shoulders, wanting to touch him. Thick shoulder muscles bunched and rippled beneath her palm. She should be afraid. But she wasn't.

Her breasts ached and her core throbbed. She was aroused. Completely and utterly aroused. And by nothing more than a kiss.

The terry robe felt confining and she almost ripped it off. Only caution and a glimmer of common sense kept her from doing so.

Hank slipped his tongue past her lips and delved into her mouth. He touched her tongue with his, encouraging her to play. She dug her nails into the fabric of his shirt. That didn't satisfy her so she shoved her hands into the collar of his shirt and found hot, firm flesh. This was so much better.

Hank groaned when she sank her nails into his skin. His kiss became firmer, more demanding. She met him stroke for stroke. He was better than chocolate cake, better than anything she'd ever tasted.

His hand brushed aside the collar of her robe. She froze as his hand cupped her breast. It was like a cold shower, bringing her back to reality. She couldn't do this.

Hank pulled his mouth from hers. "Shhh," he whispered. "Don't be afraid." He gave her breast a gentle squeeze before withdrawing his hand. Her nipple puckered as if reaching for his touch. A chill washed over her skin and she tugged the robe back in place.

Hank was studying her, but it wasn't anger she saw in his eyes, or disappointment. It was concern. For her. Was this guy for real?

"I'm sorry. That wasn't fair of me." She wasn't a tease. She, better than most, knew males didn't need much encouragement when they were aroused.

He frowned. "Fair has got nothing to do with it. I'm the one who's sorry." He rubbed his hand over the top of his head. The hair was so short it didn't disturb it at all. "That went further than I intended."

No way was she letting him take all the blame for this. She was the one who allowed this to happen. "It was my fault. I shouldn't have kissed you."

"No, you definitely should have done that." The corners of his mouth turned up slightly and his eyes took on a definite twinkle. "And I hope to persuade you to do it again."

He was teasing her. Chrissten was shocked. Hank had a bulge in the front of his jeans that had to be uncomfortable, yet he was teasing her. Where was his anger, his rage and accusations?

It struck her that she was expecting him to act in the same manner Brian would have. And that wasn't fair to either of them. Nothing about this situation was fair.

But that was life.

"I..." She didn't know what to say that wouldn't sound totally stupid. Hank made her forget all the perfectly good reasons she couldn't get involved with him, with any male.

The thought of being with any other male, having him touch her, was abhorrent to her. Hank was special. She knew in her heart that she could easily resist any other male.

He was dangerous to her. He could make her forget her purpose, her promise to herself. She wasn't free to be with anyone. And even if she managed to find Brian and kill him, she didn't know if she'd ever be able to be with another male again, didn't think she could trust another male enough to bind herself to him for a lifetime. Hank deserved more than she could give him. She was damaged, physically, mentally and emotionally.

"Stop worrying about everything. All you need to be concerned about is getting well." Hank stood and glanced at the doorway. "You get dressed and come on downstairs. I'll find you a quiet table and you can enjoy the music and have something to eat."

Normalcy. That's what she needed.

Her heart pounded at the thought of leaving this room. Oh God, she was scared. She was nothing but a coward. It would be so easy to stay here, to allow others to take care of her.

Time to find her backbone. She'd never been the type to sit back and let others take over. If she had been, her twin would have walked all over her. She'd always been tough and independent. Time to find that part of her again.

She prayed she hadn't allowed Brian and Dr. Morton to beat it out of her.

She swallowed back the lump of fear that threatened to clog her throat. She could manage to go downstairs to the bar. She'd be surrounded by a pack of werewolves who had taken her in as one of their own. Her twin would be there as well, and she knew he'd protect her with his life.

The deciding factor was that she knew Hank would be there. She wanted to spend time with him, watch him work, be with him any way she could.

"I'd like that."

He smiled. "Good." He turned toward the doorway. "And here's Bethany to help you get dressed." He nodded at the other woman. "Come on downstairs when you're ready. There's a folk duo playing later tonight. Nice and relaxing."

He left her sitting there, her lips tingling and her thoughts a tangle.

Bethany came over the bed and sat down next to her. "How are you doing?" Bethany was the only person here who understood what she was going through, and even she had no idea exactly what Chrissten had endured. Bethany hadn't been claimed or raped or held for months and months on end, being poked and prodded and tested hour after hour. She'd endured a mere two weeks of confinement and testing. No one could truly understand what she was feeling. She wasn't sure she understood and she'd lived it.

Chrissten shook her head. "I have no idea." And she honestly didn't. Her emotions were yo-yoing all over the place. In the past few minutes she'd felt everything from aroused to scared to determined to angry to happy and everything in between. It was exhausting.

Bethany patted her leg. "It will get better in time. All that matters is you're safe here."

For now. The words went unspoken even though they echoed silently in the air around them. Chrissten knew it wouldn't last. Brian was out there somewhere searching for her. Not because he loved her or cared for her, but because, in his opinion, she belonged to him.

Screw him. She was going to get dressed and have a wonderful evening. She dug into the box and came up with a pair of faded jeans. They'd probably be too big for her but a belt would fix that. She'd wear the blue sweater with it.

She turned to Bethany. "See if you can find me some shoes."

Chapter Seven.

Chrissten sat at a table for two just beyond the bar. The corner was quiet, or as quiet as a bar could get. The music was soft and mellow, the ambiance congenial. Haven was crowded, but the clientele was relaxed and enjoying themselves. This was a classy place. No rowdy drunks here. And if a problem arose she knew one of the men would take care of it immediately with little fuss.

Hank was working the door and she had a perfect view of him as he spoke to patrons entering and leaving the establishment. He looked right at home there. But he was watchful. Vigilant. His eyes were constantly moving, searching for any hidden danger. It seemed to be second nature to him.

She admired the way his jeans clung to his thick thighs and perfect butt. The material of his dark T-shirt strained at the shoulders and clung to his biceps. And she wasn't the only female who noticed. A low growl emanated from her chest before she could stop it. The noise startled her. She was jealous. Which was absurd. Hank didn't belong to her. She had a mate. She had no claim on Hank at all.

Hank's head whipped around the second she growled. She wanted to look away but his laser gaze snared her. Her skin began to heat under his perusal. Her nipples beaded against her bra and Chrissten was glad she'd worn a sweater, which would hide her aroused state. Her pants were too constricting and she wanted to squirm to try to alleviate the ache between her thighs.

She couldn't believe she was getting aroused in a public place and all because Hank stared at her. This was crazy.

She managed, with some difficulty, to pull her gaze away and study the club. Michael and Benjamin were both pouring drinks behind the dark oak bar that spanned one wall. They were both tall, handsome males. Michael was laughing at something one of the waitresses said to him as he filled her drink order. Benjamin was chatting with several men who sat at the far end of the bar. They both appeared to enjoy their work. She liked them both but felt nothing beyond friendship for them.

Isaiah worked his way around Haven, moving from table to table, keeping an eye on everything and everyone while Neema and the other waitresses served drinks and food. Kevin was in the office with Craig and Teague was working his culinary magic in the kitchen.

Bethany and Quinn had disappeared for the past hour. Chrissten didn't want to think about what they were most likely doing upstairs.

And there it was again. The image of two people making love popped into her head, but it wasn't her brother and his mate she pictured. No, it was her and Hank. Both of them naked, their limbs entwined.

Once again her gaze was drawn to the front entrance and the male standing there. She propped her chin on her hands and sighed. He really was fine. It didn't hurt to look even though she knew she couldn't have him.