Michael pushed back from the table. "I'm for bed. I'll get up early to clean the bar." Benjamin joined him and soon the rest were dispersing.

Donovan hovered close by, trying to get her attention. She couldn't take any more emotional displays tonight. Exhaustion was dragging at her.

"Chrissten." She couldn't ignore him when he said her name.

"Yes."

"I'm glad you're safe." Donovan looked as though he might want to say more but refrained.

"Thanks. Me too."

He cleared his throat. "May I visit you in the morning?"

She wavered back and forth. His lips tightened and she knew he was expecting her to reject him. It might be easier for all of them if they had no relationship. There was a good possibility her life span was very short. She didn't want to hurt him any more than she already had. He started to turn away and compassion clutched her by the throat. She finally gave in. "Sure."

He inclined his head. "Thank you. I bid you all good night." With that, he left the bar and headed out into the darkness.

Chrissten didn't know how she made it up the stairs. Bethany helped her remove her clothes and pull on a nightgown. Quinn and Craig hovered for a while after she was tucked into bed but finally even they left.

She knew she wasn't alone. Hank was out in the next room, as always, watching over her.

She pulled the covers tighter and inhaled his scent, sighing as it wrapped around her like another blanket. She lay awake a long time listening to the sound of his breathing in the other room.

She wished she had courage enough to invite him to share the bed with her. Not for sex. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But just so he could hold her.

But that would be selfish on her part.

Chrissten punched her pillow and forced herself to relax. It wasn't easy. Scenes of the night kept replaying in her mind. Sleep was a long time coming.

Chapter Nine.

Chrissten felt the large male body crushing hers against the thin mattress, could smell Brian's arousal as he ground his erection against her stomach. His hands were rough on her breasts, squeezing and bruising them. Bile churned in her stomach and acid burned her throat. The pungent stench of sweat and fear filled her nostrils.

"You're mine," he growled as he ripped at her clothing.

"No!" she cried, fighting back with every ounce of strength she possessed. She raked her nails over his face and he jerked back, fury evident in every line of his body.

"You'll pay for that, bitch."

A shiver raced down her spine. That was no idle threat. She struggled to scramble away from him, but Brian was too fast, too strong for her to evade.

She cried out and steeled herself for his attack. But he was suddenly gone.

Chrissten frowned as another voice penetrated her dream, this one rough but gentle at the same time. She knew this voice, trusted the man behind it. More than that, she wanted him.

She heard her name being called again and pulled farther away from Brian, leaving him and the memory of his attack far behind. Her eyelids fluttered open and she realized she wasn't in her small, dingy cell being attacked. She also wasn't alone. She recognized the familiar musky scent and the gentle way he touched her. Hank was beside her, his large body wrapped protectively around her.

Heat flashed through Chrissten's body and she scissored her legs restlessly against the crisp white sheets. She was hot and sweaty. A nice change after feeling as though she was locked in a meat cooler for so many months.

The cotton fabric of her nightgown clung to her body, molding to every dip and curve. She inhaled and a rich enticing scent filled her nostrils. Musky and male, it mixed a hint of sandalwood and a touch of cool spring air. It was intoxicating. She wanted more so she took another breath.

"Mmm." She tried to move but found herself trapped beneath the sheets.

A broad hand stroked down her side and over her hip. The heat penetrated the layer of her nightgown and sank into her. A wide palm and clever fingers circled her stomach, making it flutter with anticipation.

Sleep still filled her brain, making her a little slow on the uptake. But she wasn't concerned. Her instincts weren't screaming for her to run. If anything, they were urging her to get closer.

"Shh," Hank crooned next to her ear. "You were dreaming and cried out in your sleep."

She shivered. Not a dream but a nightmare. And not truly a nightmare but a reliving of something that had happened to her. Brian. She could still smell him on her skin and taste him in her mouth.

She hated him more in this moment than she ever had. Even free from his clutches he continued to haunt her days and nights. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. And she was going to stop it here and now.

Maybe if it were morning and not the dead of the night. Maybe if she was thinking more clearly she'd never have given voice to her deepest thoughts. "Make love to me."

Even as she said the words she wasn't certain she could go through with it. Having a man inside her, thrusting hard, hurting her over and over. She whimpered and tensed.

Hank removed his hand slowly from beneath the covers, wrapped his arm around her and hugged her tight. "It's okay, Chrissten. I've got you."

She rolled onto her back so she could see him. Hank hovered above her, arm bent and head propped up against his hand. His free hand rested on her stomach, not demanding anything, simply resting there and giving comfort.

"I'm sorry." And she was. She wasn't a tease, hadn't meant to say one thing and then have second thoughts.

He shook his head and the light from the streetlamps glinted off the short strands of his blond hair. "There's no need for you to be sorry about anything." He looked totally relaxed, not angry or disappointed.

"Are you for real?" She couldn't believe any male would be totally unaffected by her offer and then its quick withdrawal.

One corner of his mouth kicked up. "Oh yeah, I'm for real. I'm so real my cock is ready to explode."

She felt her jaw drop and quickly closed her mouth.

He cupped her face in his large hand and rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. "But, Chrissten, I'd never take anything from you that you didn't want to give me."

Her heart swelled and her stomach felt as though it had an entire flock of butterflies fluttering around inside. Did butterflies come in flocks or was there another term for it? And she was obviously losing what little bit of sense she had if she was worried about such a silly thing.

Time to face the music. She owed him the truth. "I wanted to use you to forget," she blurted out. Her cheeks heated. She knew she was blushing but figured if she ignored that fact he would too. "That wasn't right and I'm sorry." There, she felt better for apologizing.

Oh, who was she kidding? She didn't feel better at all. She was tense, her skin so sensitive to the touch it almost hurt. Her breasts were heavy and taut with need, and she ached between her legs. She wanted Hank, wanted his touch to replace Brian's but she was too afraid to take that step.

"Was it the dream?"

The man was too astute for her peace of mind. She nodded and rubbed a hand over her face. She was sweaty and completely out of sorts. Aroused and frightened at the same time.

It might be natural to be emotional after the trauma she'd been through over the past year and a half, but that didn't mean she had to like it. She'd had more than enough of feeling out of control. She wanted some sort of normalcy in her life.

She'd lived in a constant state of stress for so long her body was having a hard time adapting to everyday life. Of course, she couldn't relax her guard. Not yet. Not until Brian and his band of not-so-merry men were history.

She shivered again and tugged the covers closer.

"Hey, it's okay." Hank picked up her thick braid and toyed with it, rubbing the loose end over her chin. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but it might help."

She didn't want to talk about it, but maybe he was right. Keeping everything buried inside wasn't working. It was poisoning her system. "It wasn't a dream. Not really. More of a memory."

Beside her, Hank's muscles tightened and his breathing deepened. "Tell me." It was more of a demand than a request.

Still, she figured she owed him some kind of explanation. She looked away, not wanting to see his face when she told him. "It was about me and Brian together." Chrissten struggled to get the words past her constricted throat. "How he hurt me."

"Fuck." Hank was practically vibrating with anger now. That was her fault. He'd simply come into her room to wake her from a bad dream and to offer comfort, not to play shrink.

"It's nothing. It's over with now. You should go back to bed." She didn't take a single breath between sentences. Better for Hank to go now so they could both forget any of this ever happened.

"Let me get this straight." Obviously he wasn't going to take her suggestion and leave. She should have known better. He was as stubborn as her brother, which was a roundabout way of acknowledging that he was as stubborn as she was. "You were having bad memories about you and Brian and you wanted me to touch you."

"Stupid, wasn't it." God, if a person could die of embarrassment she'd have already expired. "I had some mixed-up idea that your touch could replace it, kind of cancel it out." She shrugged. "I know. It doesn't make any sense. Good night." She closed her eyes and prayed he would take the hint.

Warm breath feathered across her face and then soft lips brushed hers. Her eyes flew open. Hank was levered above her, his mouth tempting hers.

She parted her lips to ask him what he was doing but he didn't give her a chance to speak. He slipped his tongue into the moist opening and teased hers in a slow, easy glide that didn't alarm her in any way. A giving. A sharing, rather than a taking.

Her hand seemed to have a mind of its own as it crept up to cup the back of his neck. He made a low sound of pleasure when her fingers made contact. She knew he liked it when she stroked his nape.

She did it again and could feel his smile against her lips. He didn't hurry. Didn't try to do anything other than kiss her. The heat, the slow simmer, the steady rise of passion. It was truly lovely.

Chrissten curled her toes and concentrated on the two places they were touching. Lips to lips and hand to nape. Nothing overtly sexual, yet it was one of the most sensual experiences she'd ever had.

Hank kissed her like that was his entire goal and one he was bound to accomplish. He licked and sucked and explored. He tilted his head to one side so he could forage deeper.

And his taste. God, he tasted good. Better than a man had a right to. Mint from his toothpaste mingled with the rich aroma of the coffee he'd drank earlier tonight. But overriding every other taste was the pure essence of the man himself. Better than chocolate. She didn't think she could ever get enough.

Chrissten lost track of time, lost all embarrassment, forgot about the nightmare as Hank kissed her as though she was water and he was a man lost in the desert.

Both of them were breathing hard when he finally pulled back. Her lips tingled and her head rose from the pillow, following him. She didn't want this moment to end.

Hank kissed the tip of her nose, her forehead and her cheeks.

"I want to touch you. I want to touch you everywhere."

Chrissten's entire body clenched, partly in fear and partly in anticipation.

Hank was wreathed in shadows, the play of light highlighting the harsh planes of his face. "I want to take away his touch. Make you forget everything about him."

"Hank," she began, not really sure what she was going to say.

"Shh." He placed one finger over her lips to keep her from speaking. "Let me finish. I know this isn't easy for you. I don't expect to make love with you. That's not going to happen tonight. I give you my word of honor."

A sense of wonder blossomed inside Chrissten. She knew he meant every word he said, knew enough about him to understand his word was his bond, his honor everything to him.

"Let me touch you, kiss you, taste you. I won't do anything you don't want me to, and we can stop any time you feel uncomfortable. Let me do this for you."

"Why?" Why would he even want to do this? What was in it for him? He'd end up horny and unsatisfied.

Hank let his finger drift down from her lips until it was under her chin. "Because I'm drawn to you in a way I can't explain. Because I want to touch you more than I want my next breath. No matter how horny I get, contrary to popular belief, no man has ever died because he didn't get any. And I'd do anything to help rid you of those dark memories."

Chrissten simply stared at Hank. Could it really be that simple? She wanted to reach out and take what he offered, but it wasn't fair to him. She'd be using him and that didn't sit well with her. It smacked of weakness.

She started to shake her head but, once again, he seemed to anticipate that move and countered it with more words.

"I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong. It's not weak to want to reach out to someone for help. We all need it sometime. It's the strong person who recognizes when they do need help and is able to ask for it."

"It's not fair." How many times had she uttered those words in her head and aloud? Even she could hear the lack of conviction in them. Was she really considering doing this? The answer was an unequivocal yes.

Hank's gaze heated, his pale eyes almost glowing in the shadowy room. "It's more than fair, Chrissten. It's what I want." He touched his lips to hers. "Will you give me what I want?"

Put like that, how could she refuse?

Chrissten took a deep breath and nodded.

Hank thought he might come in his pants when Chrissten nodded. It was close, but he managed to stop the explosion by thinking about Brian, about the male who had abused her. If anything was guaranteed to kill his libido it was thoughts of that bastard.

A mated wolf usually couldn't stand the scent or touch of another. That made the attraction between him and Chrissten even more unusual. Hank knew in his soul he was her true mate and she was his. Maybe it was because they were both half-breeds that they were able to get past the restrictions that ruled mated pairs. Maybe it was because they were true mates that Brian's mating didn't seem to affect either of them in quite the same way it would a pure werewolf mated pair.

He didn't know and didn't care.

He could smell Brian's scent on her skin. It permeated her flesh, a never-ending reminder that she belonged to another. It marked her as surely as a brand and would only disappear with Brian's death.

Most males wouldn't be able to stand the stench of another male on their female. Werewolves were nothing if not possessive.

But Hank wasn't most men and Chrissten belonged to him. He knew Brian's claim to her was only temporary. The moment Hank found him, he would kill him and free Chrissten.

He'd deal with him eventually. But tonight was all about Chrissten, about what she needed from him at this moment. He took a deep breath and concentrated on the light floral scent that clung to Chrissten's skin and blocked out the deeper, musky tones. The possessive wolf inside him wanted to rub his body over every inch of her skin, letting his scent coat her silky smooth flesh. It wouldn't get rid of Brian's smell, but it would help mask it.

Touch was such a basic human thing and so necessary, especially to their kind. Wolves were pack animals. Social. And touch was a way to express how they felt about one another-a hand on a shoulder, a hug, a pat. Between a mated pair touch was even more vital. It helped connect them to one another, to solidify their bond.

Brian had abused his position as mate. Denying Chrissten the most basic comfort. Hurting her when he should have been cherishing her.

His loss was Hank's gain.

Chrissten's skin was glistening with perspiration. Worry darkened her beautiful blue eyes and he wanted to tell her not to worry, but saved his breath. She wouldn't totally relax until Brian and his group were found and dealt with. He didn't blame her. He was always on alert himself, even more so than usual. Brian would come for her. Hank knew it in his gut.

He brushed back a lock of hair that had escaped from her braid. She turned her head slightly into his touch. That little action made him feel like the king of the world.

His life used to be simple. Basic.