'Go back down. Land this plane. Right now, Thane. I need my bag. My phone. I need my phone.'
How was she going to call Natanael? Keep in touch with home? Text Nate as she did every morning, noon and night?
Desperation made her beg the man she loathed with every ounce of her being. 'Thane, please, I need my phone.'
He didn't turn, still wouldn't look at her. Just inhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a beat. 'Where we are going no phone of yours will even work, Luciana. Sit down and leave it.'
She gritted her teeth, mightily glad for the return of that cool, dominant inflection because it evaporated the acidic splash behind her eyes. She would not break. Not in front of this man. Nor any other.
'I hate you right now,' she whispered vehemently. Though she suspected she hated herself even more.
One kiss. That was all it had taken to vanquish every thought from her mind.
Self-loathing slithered through her stomach to writhe like a nest of vipers and she curled into the deep bucket seat to ease the ache.
No phone. No way to call Nate. No chance of escape. And she was flying straight into enemy territory.
If she got through this in one piece and found her way home it would be a miracle.
CHAPTER FIVE
HE FELT LIKE the big bad wolf. In more ways than one. Furious self-censure and unparalleled carnal hunger took equal pleasure in tearing at his insides with razor-sharp claws until he wanted to growl.
The lust made his body thrum with pent-up energy, yet all he wanted to do was storm over there, pick her up and put her right back on his knee. Eradicate the pain in her eyes by wrapping her up in his arms and holding her tightly to him.
Dios, when tears had glistened in those big, beautiful eyes he'd felt as if a bullet had ripped clean through his chest. He'd been a little boy again, looking up at his mother, unsure what to do, how to take her heartache away. A heartache that once again he didn't truly understand. And that had made him feel lost. Racking his brains to think of some way to stem her misery. Because somehow his mother had always managed to quell his, take his pain away-back when his flesh could feel such a sensation, that was.
Rubbing over his jaw, he recalled how touching her had often worked-holding her cold, trembling hand or trying to wrap his small, thin arms around her shoulders to hug her, wishing he was bigger, stronger. Instinctively he'd reached for Luciana, but she didn't want his touch. While he'd always treasured hers. Touch was precious to him, he realised. Infinitely rare and beyond price, it was something he hadn't experienced or allowed himself to feel since he'd been seven years old. Until Luciana.
'I hate you … '
How her words tormented him. How her tears made him feel barbaric. As brutal as his father.
While he still owned what he'd had to do, he conceded his tactics might not have been the most honourable. Had he been wrong to take his chance? Hell, no. Not when the alternative was her marrying another man. A man she didn't even wish to marry! Still, luring her onto a flight using their chemistry, when she'd exploded like some hot, sensual, sultry bomb in his hands, and then almost initiating them into the ranks of the mile-high club wasn't exactly coaxing her towards a priest with a gentle hand, was it?
The memory of her furiously wild, uninhibited passion made him shift in his seat with restless virile power-as if his body had lain dormant for an age of cold bleak winters and she'd awoken the deep-seated animalistic lust inside him.
And right then the truth crashed down around him.
For the first time in years he was feeling, and he was chasing it with the urgency and fervour of a madman. He felt hungry, starved of affection, and suddenly he despised it. Didn't want her to have that kind of terrific power over him. He'd had more control when he'd been handed his first gun at twelve.
Lurching from his seat, he went to stalk to his office, where he could think straight, past the chair where she sat curled up, knees bent, hugging them to her chest, in a pose that struck him as a defensive ball-and he slammed to a stop.
Thumb-print-shaped blotches reddened her silky soft thighs, courtesy of his rough ardour, and her neck was scored pink from where he'd kissed her, dragged his unshaven jaw up her delicate throat. Ravaged. She looked ravaged.
Dios, had he hurt her?
He closed his eyes, his conscience riven by self-contempt.
Maybe he didn't deserve to have her in his life again. He could never be good inside, where it mattered. That had been twisted out of him as a boy. He was darkness and she was all golden light.
Good versus evil. Beautiful versus beastly. Flawless versus scarred.
Fatigue lent a beautiful fragility to her face. And when a shiver rustled over her honey-gold skin his guts twisted tight. She looked scared, miserable and attacked. So damn vulnerable.
Idiot he was-of course she'd be worried. While they'd spent one month in each other's arms there were years of animosity between their countries.
Opening one of the top cupboards, he pulled down some thick fluffy blankets and lowered into a crouch before her.
Her little bow-shaped mouth was mutinous in her heart shaped face. 'Get away from me, Thane.'
'Luciana,' he said, his voice rich and smooth, 'I am sorry I've upset you this badly.'
'Upset me?'
She flared up with spectacular force-his ferocious little lioness. He actually felt himself blanch when he saw her eyes, pools of brandy swimming in betrayal.
'Oh, just go away. I'm not speaking to you.'
'You just did,' he said lazily, trying to lighten the mood, get her to come round to him.
'Only because you're forcing me to. You are such a control freak. Do you get off on being Mr Big and Powerful? Taking away people's choices?'
That wasn't what he'd done. Was it … ?
'No, what I was doing was preventing you from making a mistake. Giving you freedom from your father. You owe him nothing, angel. Soon you'll realise I've done you a great favour, and when you thank me I will not be so arrogant as to say I told you so.'
Moaning, as if his very existence was painful to her, she squeezed her eyes shut and banged her head on the headrest. 'You're impossible. You really are.'
Gingerly, he covered her in layers of dove-grey cashmere and tucked the ends underneath her.
'What's this? A peace offering?' she jeered.
'No, a blanket,' he drawled as he slipped off her towering white glossy shoes. Unable to resist that ticklish spot, he ran his thumb over the sexy little nub of her anklebone.
She flinched and tucked her foot under the blanket, rebuffing him.
Thane sighed, stood tall, and shunted a hand through his hair. Back to that place where he was lost. Only knowing in that moment that making her smile at him was more important than anything else. And that thought was not only unnerving but also perilous and highly confusing.
His office silently chanted his name.
'I'll leave you for a while, then,' he said, stepping away.
Naturally that was when she started ranting all over him.
'How do you do this to me, Thane? How do you make me want you and hate you at the same time? I have no sense when it comes to you. None!'
One fat tear slipped down her cheek and his cold, stony heart cracked in two.
'Now look at the mess I'm in.'
The desolate anguish in her voice made him remember, and he couldn't just stand there paralysed. He had to do that in his own country, almost every damn day.
Ah, to hell with it.
Swooping in, he scooped her up …
'Hey!'
He turned and plonked them both back down in her seat, holding her close.
'I … I told you not to touch me again,' she choked out, trying to fight him and her tears at the same time. 'Honest to God, do you listen to one single, solitary thing I say?'
Palm to her cheek, he pushed at the side of her face to nestle her into his neck. 'It may not seem so, but, yes. I just … Let me hold you. Warm you up. Please? Just for a moment. You're shivering.'
He tucked the blanket tightly around her, from her sexy knees to the feminine slope of her nose, until she was swaddled, unable to move an inch.
'There you go. You look like a cute furry Egyptian mummy, but that's better, si?'
If looks could kill, he'd be dead.
'It may be better if you remove that damp dress from your skin,' he suggested.
It was shrinking by the second, he was sure. He was also sure he wanted it off her, since he could easily conjure up far more pleasurable ways to make his thoughtless arrogance up to her.
Hiking her chin up over the cashmere, she harrumphed at him. 'As. If. Now you're trying to get my clothes off? Forget it, Romeo. This Juliet isn't falling for that.'
Thane frowned. 'They were enemies, weren't they?'
'Yeah … Ring any bells? And there was no happy ending for them either. She killed herself, so let that be a lesson to you.'
Spine rigid, he stiffened up … then slammed down the memory before it invaded him and the blackness tainted his soul. No, that would never happen with Luciana. She was not his mother. He and Luciana had history. He'd made her happy once and he would again. He was a man now-stronger, more powerful-he would be enough this time. Wouldn't he?