Stolen

RECUPERATION

After examining and cleaning my myriad wounds, Jeremy restitched my leg. Now, one might wonder how he happened to have a surgical needle and thread on hand, but Jeremy was more likely to go on a trip without his toothbrush than his medical kit-and he was very conscientious about oral hygiene. From past experience, Jeremy had learned to take his kit pretty much every time he stepped out with Clay or me. We had a habit of turning even the most innocuous events into medical emergencies, like the time we went to the opera and I ended up with a fractured collarbone-my own stupidity really, but Clay had started it. I persuaded Jeremy to forgo binding my wounds. A hot shower was more important. Once he'd tied off my stitches and warned me against getting them "too wet," I bolted for the bathroom. I waited for the water temperature to hit scalding before I stepped into the shower. For several minutes I stood motionless, letting the hot water cascade over me, sloughing away all remnants of the last week. When the shower door opened, I didn't turn. Sure, I'd seen Psycho, but no knife-wielding intruder would get past Jeremy, and I knew it wasn't Jeremy opening the door-a knife-wielding intruder would be more likely to interrupt my shower. Cool skin brushed against my bare legs. As the shower door slid closed, fingers tickled down my hip. I closed my eyes and leaned back against Clay, feeling his body slide into the contours of my back. I felt him lean forward, reaching for the shampoo. As I tilted my face up to the pelting water, his hands went to my hair, fingers tugging through the tangles, the sharp smell of soap perfuming the steam. I stretched my head back into his hands, nearly purring with contentment.

When he'd finished my hair, he shifted away for a moment, then returned. Soapy hands caressed my arms, then slid down to the outside of my legs, tracing circles there before gradually moving to the inside of my thighs. I parted my legs and Clay chuckled, the sound reverberating against my back. He ran his fingertips in slow zigzags up and down the inside of my thighs, teasing, then slipped inside me. I moaned and arched against him. His free hand went around my waist, pulling me closer, his erection pushing against the small of my back. I shifted onto my tiptoes and wriggled, trying to guide him into me. Instead he turned me around to face him and lifted me onto him. I bent my head back into the water, pulling Clay along as he kissed me. The water had cooled to chill pellets that beat down on my face. Reaching up, I entangled my fingers in Clay's drenched curls, feeling rivulets of water tickle along the insides of my wrists. He made a noise deep in his throat, half-groan, half-growl, and pushed into me, nearly toppling us into the tub. Then he shuddered and pulled out.

"Please don't tell me you're done," I said, still hanging backward over his arms.

Clay laughed. "Would I do that to you? I'm fine, but your breakfast is getting cold."

"Trust me, I'm not worried."

I reached to pull him back into me, but he eased away, got a better grip on my waist, opened the shower door, and carried me out. Once in the bedroom, he tossed me onto the bed and was inside me before the mattress stopped bouncing.

"Better?" he asked.

"Ummm, much."

I closed my eyes and arched into him. As I moved, the smell of breakfast on the nightstand wafted between us. I hesitated a split second. My stomach growled.

"Upstaged by ham and pancakes," Clay said. "Again."

"I can wait."

Clay thrust into me with mock growl. "You're too kind, darling."

I moved my hips against his. My stomach chortled and wheezed. Clay shifted up and forward. I reached out to pull him back, but he didn't withdraw, instead reaching for something over my head. As I closed my eyes again, grease dripped onto my cheek, and a slice of ham pressed against my lips. I opened my mouth and chomped it down in a few bites, then sighed, and lifted my hips to meet Clay.

"Mmmm."

"Is that for me or the ham?" he whispered against my hair.

Before I could assuage his ego, he pushed another slice of ham into my mouth, then bent his head to lick the dripped grease, his tongue tracing circles across my cheek. We moved together for a few minutes and I forgot the food. Honest. Then Clay reached up again, this time returning with a folded pancake. I sank my teeth into the bottom half and pushed the rest up to his mouth. He laughed and took a bite. When I finished, I lifted my head and licked the crumbs from his lips. He took another pancake and dangled it above me. I jerked my head up to snatch it. My teeth sank into something he hadn't been offering.

"Yow! "he said, shaking his injured finger.

"Don't be dangling the food, then," I mumbled through a mouthful of pancake.

Clay growled and lowered his face to the side of my neck, nibbling a sensitive spot. I yelped and tried to wriggle away, but he pinned me down and thrust into me. I shuddered and gasped. Then I really did forget the food.

Twenty minutes later, I was curled up beside Clay, one arm draped over his back, tracing designs in the sweat between his shoulder blades as he nibbled the hollow between my neck and shoulder. I yawned, stretched my legs, then wrapped them around his.

"Sleep?" he asked.

"Later."

"Talk?"

"Not yet." I buried my face in his chest, inhaled, and sighed. "You smell so good."

He chuckled. "Like ham?"

"No, like you. I missed you so much."

His breath caught. One hand went to my hair, stroking it back from my ear. I didn't usually talk like that. If I said I missed him, there was usually a punch line. If I said I loved him, it was almost always in the middle of making love, when I couldn't be held accountable for anything I said. Why? Because I was afraid, afraid that by admitting how much he meant to me, I'd give him the power to hurt me even worse than he had by biting me. Which was stupid, of course. Clay knew exactly how much I loved him. The only person I was fooling was myself.

"I was scared," I said. Another thing I hated to admit, but as long as I was on a roll…

"So was I," he said, kissing the top of my head. "When I realized you were gone-"

Someone knocked on the door. Clay swore under his breath.

"Go away," he murmured, too low for the visitor to hear.

"It could be Jeremy," I said.

"Jeremy wouldn't bother us. Not now."

"Elena? It's me," Paige called.

Clay lifted himself onto his forearms. "Go away!"

"I just wanted to see how Elena-"

"No!"

Paige's sigh fluttered through the door. "Stop shouting, Clayton. I'm not going to harass her. I know she's been through a lot. I only wanted to-"

"You'll see her when everyone else does. Until then, wait."

"Maybe I should talk to her," I whispered.

"If you open that door, she won't go away until she's pestered every iota of information from you."

"I heard that, Clayton," Paige said.

He snarled at the door and muttered under his breath. Something told me Clay and Paige hadn't become fast friends in my absence. Fancy that.

"Ummm, Paige?" I called. "I'm kind of tired, but if you'll give me a minute to dress-"

"She won't go away," Clay said. "You need time to relax. You don't need to be answering questions for a bunch of strangers."

"I'm not a stranger," Paige said. "Could you be a little less rude, Clayton?"

Clay was right. If I let Paige in, she'd want to know everything. I wasn't ready for that. Nor did I want to lie here while Clay and Paige argued through a closed door.

I crawled from the bed and tossed Clay his jeans. When he opened his mouth to protest, I jabbed a finger at the window, then lifted it to my lips. He nodded. As I slid into Clay's T-shirt and boxers, he eased the window open and unhooked the screen. Then, while Paige patiently waited for us to open the door, we escaped into the surrounding forest.

"That probably wasn't very nice," I said as we tramped deeper into the woods.

Clay snorted. "Won't catch me losing any sleep over it."

"I know Paige can be difficult, but-"

"She's a pain in the ass, darling. And that's being generous. The kid is barely out of school and she thinks she's a leader, pushing her way into everything, arguing, second-guessing Jeremy. Until she met you in Pittsburgh, she'd never been within screaming distance of real danger and suddenly she's an expert." He shook his hand. "Don't get me started."

"Seems I already did."

"Nah, that's nothing, darling. Give me a few hours and I'll tell you what I really think of Paige Winterbourne. Nobody talks to Jeremy that way, especially not some little girl with an overinflated sense of her own importance. If I had my way, Paige would have been sent packing last week. But you know Jeremy. He doesn't put up with her crap, but he won't let it get to him, either." He pushed through a tangle of tree branches. "Where're we going?"

"How about a run? Even Paige wouldn't pester a wolf."

"Don't count on it."

After our run, we made love. Again. Afterward we lay in the grass, soaking up the late summer sun that pierced the canopy of trees overhead.

"You smell that?" Clay asked.

"Hmmm?"

"I smell food."

"Dead or alive?"

Clay laughed. "Dead, darling. Dead and cooked."

He heaved himself up, looked around, then motioned for me to wait and vanished into the woods. A half-minute later he returned with a picnic basket. Well, a cardboard box actually, but the smells drifting from it were definitely of the picnic variety. Laying it on the grass, he unpacked cheese, bread, fruit, a covered plate of chicken, a bottle of wine, and assorted paper and plastic eating tools.

"Picnic fairies?" I asked, then caught a whiff of scent that answered my question. "Jeremy." I grabbed a drumstick and tore a chunk from it. "I'm spoiled."

"You deserve it."

I grinned. "I do, don't I?"

We polished off the meal and the wine in under ten minutes. Then I reclined on the grass and sighed, content and sated for the first time in nearly two weeks. I closed my eyes and the first seductive tug of sleep washed over me. Sleep. Uninterrupted sleep. The perfect cap to a perfect day. I rolled against Clay, smiling drowsily, and let the waves of slumber pull me under. Then I bolted awake.

"We can't sleep out here," I said. "It's not safe."

Clay's lips brushed my forehead. "I'll stay awake, darling."

As I opened my mouth to argue, Jeremy's voice drifted from the distance. "You can both sleep. I'm here."

I hesitated, but Clay pulled me back down, entwining his legs around mine and cushioning my head with his arm. I wrapped myself in his warmth and fell asleep.

It was late afternoon when Jeremy nudged us awake. Clay grunted between snores but didn't move. I yawned, rolled over, and kept rolling until I was lying on my other side, whereupon I promptly fell back asleep. Jeremy shook us harder.

"Yes, I know you're still tired," he said as Clay grumbled something unintelligible. "But Elena needs to speak to the others today. I can't postpone it until morning."

Clay muttered under his breath.

"Yes, I know I could," Jeremy said. "But it would be rude. They've been waiting all day."

"We need-" I began.

"I brought your clothing."

"I need to brush-"

"There's a comb and mouthwash with the clothes. No, you're not going back to your room or I suspect I won't see either of you until morning. We're meeting in fifteen minutes. I'll keep it short."

The meeting was to be held in Kenneth and Adam's room. As we crossed the parking lot, I saw Paige pacing the crumbling sidewalk. Her arms were crossed, probably against the cool night air, but it looked as if she was holding in a barrage of questions she'd been waiting half a day to fire at me. Just what I need-No, that wasn't fair. Of course, Paige was anxious to speak to me. I'd been in the enemy camp. I'd seen what we were up against. It was understandable that she'd be bursting with questions about the compound, my captors, the other prisoners-Oh, God. Ruth. Paige didn't know about Ruth. The past week was such a jumble that I'd completely forgotten Paige had contacted me before Ruth died. The last she'd heard, her aunt was alive. Damn it! How could I have been so insensitive? Paige had been waiting for news of her aunt. She'd held off while Jeremy treated my wounds, given me time to shower, then came to ask about Ruth. And what had I done? I'd snuck out the bedroom window.

"I have to talk to Paige," I said.

"Stay in sight," Clay called as I jogged away.

As I approached, Paige turned and nodded, acknowledging my presence, but saying nothing. Her face was expressionless, any annoyance hidden under a veneer of good manners.

"How are you feeling?" she asked. "Jeremy says your wounds aren't too bad."

"About earlier," I said. "I'm-I wasn't thinking-it's been a hell of a day." I shook my head. "Sorry, that's a lousy excuse. You wanted to know about your aunt. I never thought-I shouldn't have-"

"She's gone, isn't she?"

"I'm so sorry. It happened after we lost contact, and I forgot you didn't know."

Paige's eyes moved from mine, turning to stare over the parking lot. I struggled for something to say, but before I could think of anything, she spoke, her gaze still fixed on some far-off point.

"I knew," she said, her voice as distant as her gaze. "I sensed she was gone, though I'd hoped I was wrong." She paused, swallowed, then shook her head sharply and turned back to me. "How did it happen?"

I hesitated. Now wasn't the time for the truth. Not until I'd spoken to Jeremy first.

"Heart attack," I said.

Paige frowned. "But her heart-"

"Welcome back! "Adam shouted from across the parking lot.

I turned to see him running toward me, grinning.

"You look good," Adam said. "Well, except for those cuts. We'll get them back for that. How are your arms? The burns, I mean. I never got a chance to explain. I didn't mean it, which I guess you figured, since Clay didn't kill me for it. Anyway, I'm sorry. Really sorry."

"To be honest, I'd forgotten all about it."

"Good. Then forget I mentioned it." He turned as Clay reached us. "How come you didn't take me along? I could have helped with the rescue."

"There was no rescue," Clay said, looping his arm around my waist. "While I was trying to find a way inside, Elena escaped. All I did was provide the getaway car."

"See?" Cassandra said as she joined us. "I told you Elena was a resourceful girl."

Paige rolled her eyes at the use of "girl," but Cassandra ignored her.

"Congratulations, Elena," she said, laying a cool hand on my arm. "I'm glad to see you out and looking well."

She sounded as if she meant it. I stopped myself. Why wouldn't she mean it? Because I'd dreamed that she'd counseled the others to abandon me and made a play for Clay? A dream, I reminded myself. A manifestation of my own insecurities. Cassandra's welcoming smile was genuine enough. If Clay's arm seemed to tighten around me, well, that was probably coincidence. Or my imagination.

"We should get this meeting started," Paige said. "We'll keep it brief. I'm sure you're exhausted, Elena. We won't pester you for details tonight. I promise."