My Soul to Keep by Sharie Kohler Page B

mesmerize their prey. Victims didn’t know what hit them until it was too late.
    But it wasn’t
him
they wanted. It wasn’t
him
they knew.
    With a sigh, he propped his arms on his knees and sank onto the floor, settling his back against the bed to wait.
    Wait for her to heal.
    Wait for the moment when she would wake and he would figure out what he was going to do with her.

S EVEN
    They hunted her in her dreams.
    One moment grotesque demons chased her, and in the next it was a black-eyed Tresa.
    They all spoke, snarling threats and curses. In that they were the same … mauling her to shreds with great claws. It didn’t end until Jonah arrived. Her girlhood hero, saving her from the agony. Like those many times he’d saved her from her father’s cruel games.
    At that moment, she forgot her anger with him, forgot the sting of his rejection.
    Jonah, Jonah, Jonah.
    Warm hands slid up her arms, cradled her shoulders, made her feel safe, protected.
    Because it was a dream, she could fool herself, let herself believe in the fantasy of it, let him hold her—and hold him back.
    She let herself need him. Want him. Again.
    She purred, arching. It was okay. This time he wouldn’t turn her away. This timeshe wouldn’t get hurt. It wasn’t real. Just a dream.
    â€œI’m here.” His voice rolled over her, deep and rich. “Talk to me.” She could almost feel the warm breath of his voice on her cheek. She lifted her face toward the sensation.
    Jonah, Jonah, Jonah.
    She wasn’t certain when the dream crossed into reality … when she realized Jonah was really beside her, really touching her, holding her, whispering soft words.
    She opened her eyes to his face, inches from her own. Her hands gripped his shoulders as if he were a lifeline, the only thing preventing her from sinking back into the hungry dark where monsters hunted her.
    His gaze glittered an icy blue. He brushed her forehead with a light touch, delicately fingering her hairline. “You okay?”
    She shook her head, darting her tongue out against cracked lips.
    â€œHere.” Suddenly, there was a cup. He lifted it to her lips and she drank greedily, stopping only when he pulled the cup back. “Easy,” he cautioned.
    She stared at him warily, wiping at the dribble of water on her chin. “You saved me,” she said, her hoarse voice accusing. She didn’t want help from him … wished she hadn’t needed it.
    â€œYeah. Imagine that.” A smile twisted his lips.
    â€œWhy? Why did you help me?”
    He cocked his head. “Isn’t that what I do when it comes to you?”
    â€œNot anymore.”
    A shadow passed over his face. “Right. Not anymore.”
    â€œSo why, then? You’re protecting the demon witch I’m going to kill.”
    His blue eyes flashed. “No. You’re not.”
    She inhaled sharply but bit back the denial that burned on her tongue. Instead, she said, “We’re not family, not even friends anymore. Why help me? You could have left me to Tresa.”
    His stare drilled into her. “Yeah. Maybe. Except you called out for me. Maybe I helped you because you asked me to—”
    â€œNo.” She shook her head fiercely. “I didn’t—”
    â€œYes. You used that little-girl voice I remember so well and said my name.” He shrugged a broad shoulder. “You know me. I was never one to deny you.”
    â€œOh, really? That’s not how I remember it.” She snorted, nearly choking on the sound, instantly regretting hinting at that long-ago night when he had crushed her.
    He cocked his head. If possible, his stare intensified. He remembered that night, too. Embarrassing heat swept over her.
    Had
she called out for him? Said his name? There at the end?
Damn it.
Did she want his pity again? For him to look at her the way he once did, the pitiable child her father wanted him to mate with in order to