He didn't care a bit to bail her out of this one. He had no intention of allowing her to be anywhere but with him.
"Since when do you decide how she should be taken care of?" Timothy barked.
"If you don't stop arguing over me like two dogs with a bone, then I'm going to go home by myself," she informed them, pressing her hands to her temples. "God. I don't care where I go, I just want to sleep."
She was unaware of the concern that filled the air. Timothy had never seen his daughter bloody; Celia knew she'd have nightmares for years to come over it. And Chase. Chase felt as though rage was going to destroy his sanity. So help him God, if he found out who did this, he was going to kill.
"I'll get her signed out of here," Sanjer promised. "I'll be there in an hour, Chase. Have my room ready. And some food if no one minds. My dinner was interrupted tonight."
Chase moved around the bed, holding Kia's attention, seeing in her eyes the vulnerability there, the almost hidden fears and desires. He didn't bother to hide his. He wouldn't make the same mistake he had made earlier tonight. He had dared to take his eyes off her when everything inside him had screamed at him to go with her, to chase after her.
She was stuck with him now, and he wondered if that might ultimately end up destroying both of them. Chase had never been one to let go of anything that belonged to him. And he was starting to feel as though Kia… belonged.
He picked her up in his arms, feeling how light she was, how fragile. He held her gaze.
"I told you," he whispered then. "It doesn't change. Only the circumstances do."
"And I told you," she whispered back. "Bet me!"
Chapter 17
Dr. Sanjer checked Kia again after Chase took her to his apartment and put her to bed. She knew it was his bed. The monstrous four-poster had to be his. Only he was tall enough to climb into it easily.
Now she lay silent, staring at the ceiling, counting off the hours as she tried to figure out exactly how she had ended up in his bed. With him in it.
She was dressed in one of Chase's T-shirts and her bronze panties. A sheet and a finely sewn heirloom quilt covered her, and beside her Chase lay, his arm thrown over her stomach as he slept.
She was lying there wishing she could roll away from him, wishing she could get enough distance between them to make sense of the feelings that kept moving through her.
She had dreamed of sleeping with him. Now that she was there, in his bed, sleep was the furthest thing from her mind. Kia just wanted to make sense of exactly what was happening, right now, inside her.
Chase lay relaxed against her, his head close to hers, his larger, more powerful body warming her. She had to restrain the urge to stroke her hand along his arms, to lay her head against his chest, and ask him why the hell he was doing this to her.
He was messing her head up, messing her heart up, and she had no idea how she was supposed to act now, or how she was supposed to feel.
Lying in his arms was heaven and hell.
She closed her eyes and fought the emotions she couldn't seem to bury deep enough to hide from. Tears flowed from the corners of her eyes, and she swore she wasn't going to turn in his arms and beg him to. make sense of this for her.
Her head was hurting. That was the problem, she assured her-self. She felt bruised and frightened, and so terribly off balance now.
Which was worse? Lying alone in her own bed, or lying with Chase and fighting to hold herself away from him?
"If you keep crying, Kia, you might well break my heart."
Her eyes jerked open as Chase shifted beside her and leaned up, staring down at her as he lifted his hand from her hip and brushed a tear from her cheek.
"It's the headache," she whispered, her lips trembling.
"I know, baby." He kissed her temple gently. "Dr. Sanjer can't give you anything more right now."
His hand cupped her neck, his fingertips moving against the back of her head, so gently. Caressing and massaging, stroking her flesh as another tear fell.
"You're never going to let me get over you, are you?" she finally asked, feeling the gentle, easy movements at the base of her neck relaxing a bit of the pain away.
Oh, that felt nice. Her lashes fluttered closed for a moment as she breathed in, letting that slow, easy massage penetrate her brain.
"Never," he agreed, but his voice was soft, easy. A whisper of knowledge that flowed through her as he shifted closer to her, or did he pull her against him?
She wasn't certain now. She knew his fingers didn't stop that slow, easy glide, and the more he caressed the hollow at the base of her head, the more the headache eased.
"I like that," she finally sighed.
"When Cameron was a boy, he used to get headaches," he told her. "I'd watch Mom rub his head. She said even kids knew how to stress out. You don't have to stress out, Kia. I'll keep you safe."