"You've got to be kidding me!" She tried again.
Ohmygod. Okay. Think, think, think. She could open the gate and run for help, but her neighbors' homes were gated in the front and it was still completely dark out. It might take forever to get one of them to wake up and let her in. Many weren't even around this time of year.
She could try to find Luis, but he didn't patrol the road. He stuck to the backs of the homes where break-ins were more likely.
Okay. She'd have to make a run for it. She'd go around the side of her house, through the garden, and down to the beach. The intruder wouldn't even see her. She grabbed her purse and took a breath before pushing open the car door and sprinting to the left side of her house. She slowed right before getting to her sitting area under the large palm tree; she didn't want to run into any chairs or potted plants.
Panting quietly, trying to ignore the frantic thumps inside her chest, she cautiously skirted around the tree.
"Aaa-chew!"
She froze. Babyjesusholycowohlord. Had someone just sneezed on the back of her neck? Ewww. And … Shit, shit, shit.
"Aaa-chew!"
She covered her mouth to keep from screaming. The intruder was right behind her.
Oh, infernum. He couldn't believe he'd done that. She must've had plumeria in her garden. He was allergic to those. Yes, deities had allergies. For example, it was a well-known fact that Belch, the God of Intoxication and Wine, couldn't eat gluten, though it didn't stop him. And the stupid bastard didn't even have to eat. Then there was Akna, Goddess of Fertility; she couldn't eat shellfish. She also had an aversion to garlic, undercooked meat, and anything spicy. Similar to a pregnant human female. As for him, it was plumeria. "Aaa-chew!"
Deities all mighty. He stilled and held his breath. He hoped she didn't run. With her luck, she'd end up tripping on a pebble and breaking her neck.
"I can't see you, but I know you're there," she said between several heavy breaths. "And whatever you think you're getting from me, you won't. I'll die before I let you rape me."
Rape her? Bloody hell! "I'm not going to touch you. Not like that, anyway. But if you run … " Though his vision rivaled that of any nocturnal beast, he could barely make her out in the dark but saw she remained motionless, her back to him.
Poor woman must be terrified. What a complete asshole. He was supposed to protect her, but instead ended up terrorizing her.
Or killing her. Or letting her be taken out by a bee while you jerk off. Idiot.
"And if I do run. What are you going to do?" she challenged.
"You do not want to get hurt, do you? Accidents happen all the time." Oh, hell. That had come out all wrong. It had sounded like a threat.
"Why do you want to hurt me? What have I done?" she asked bitterly.
This was not going well. "I do not wish to harm you; I simply want to talk."
"Like hell you do." Something hard and fast knocked him over the head. He fell to his knees.
Six
Ashli heard a loud gong when the shovel made contact. From the sound of the intruder's deep groan and his body hitting the ground, it had been a direct hit to the head. "That's right! Nobody messes with the Ashli … the Ashli … " The Ashli-nator? The Ashli-cutioner? The … Oh. Forget it! "Nobody messes with me!"
Okay. So now what? She needed to go find Luis or call the police. If she left, he might wake up and escape, only to return another day and carry out his sick, psychotic fantasy.
My belt! She slid it from her waist and gave it a quick tug between her hands. Yes, it was thin but made from strong leather. It would be perfect for tying his hands.
She crouched, feeling for the stranger's arms. Dammit. If only she could see him, but it was still pitch-black. Winter sucked!
Her fingertips encountered warm, bare skin, smooth and tight. Oh, what a firm pectoral muscle. Her hands slid farther south over a set of steely, exaggeratedly ripped abs-wow, are these implants?-stopping short of where his waistband might be.
Shit. She snatched her hand away. This guy wasn't wearing any clothes! Pervert! Hurry! Tie him up.
She sucked in the crisp predawn air and reached for him again. Okay. Shoulder. Oh! There's another pectoral. Also insanely hard and bulgy. Pervs must have a lot of time on their hands to go to the gym. Bet he has a damned membership to 24-Hour Perv-ness! And don't think about the odd tingles in your fingers. Or how his chest is built like a Greek god. Because that would then make her the perv. Or stupid and lame. Either way, not good.
But by then, it was too late. An overpowering curiosity had taken hold, urging her hands to stroll. What did he look like? He was a big pervy stalker so his face had to be all contorted and riddled with unsightly scars. Right?
She leaned in, trying to catch a glimpse of any distinctive shadows, but the sun hadn't come up yet and the garden was a pit of darkness.
She slid her fingers to his forehead and worked her way down, expecting Klingon-like ridges or bony protrusions like one of those Sith Lords (yes, she watched way too much sci-fi). What she found, however, was anything but gross or intergalactic. Or pervy.
Smooth, warm cheeks, a thick growth of bristly whiskers on his jaw, a straight nose, and … She swallowed. Soft, full lips. She leaned down again and placed her ear directly above his mouth. His warm breath bathed her cheek. Damn. The man even smelled nice. Fresh and clean like mountain air, but with a hint of something else, the kind of something one might want to smell over and over again. Like homemade pumpkin bread with a hint of spice. Must be some pervy mouthwash. Holiday-scented Lister-perv! But still, it smelled really good.
What's the matter with you? This guy just broke into your house, threatened to kill you, and here you are smelling him and exploring his pecs? You're not so bright, are you, Ash? But the impulse to touch him was uncontainable.
How about your impulse to live?
Can I live with him?
Stop it. Get a grip, Ash!
Yes. A grip.
She slid her hand down his arm, which contained yet another enormous, bulging muscle, and found his wrist. She tugged him a few feet-damn, he's heavy! Must be huge!-next to the palm tree. She wrapped his arms around the tree and tied his wrists together. The trunk was only about as thick as a basketball, but it was strong enough to hold him in place. For a while anyway.
He groaned loudly, and she stepped back, knocking herself into her garden chair. Crap. He was waking up!
He groaned again with a deep, penetrating voice, sending a shock wave of quivers through her trembling body. The sound sparked images of rolling in the sand naked, wrapped in a man's big, strong arms, feeling his heat against her skin. Yes. This had been the other dream she'd repeatedly had. The dream of the faceless man who ravaged her body with his tongue and hands while he pleasured her in ways only possible in-well, dreams-and with a body so male, so perfect that she shuddered each time she thought of him. A cock so large and thick that she melted with …
What. Is. The. Matter. With. You? Go get help!
Righto.
She reached out her hands and felt her way toward the beach to find Luis.
"Wait," that deep voice called out. "Do not leave me here."
Oh, shit. He's awake. "You just tried to murder me!"
Dammit, if only she could see him. This was just too scary talking to someone she couldn't see. She'd give anything for a flashlight.
"Gods be damned, woman," he snarled. "I did not try to kill you. I am here to protect you."
Yeah, right. "And I'm Mary. Didn't you notice my little lamb? It actually looks like a giant shovel, but don't let that fool you."
"You think I jest," he said, "but I do not. I am here to save your life."
"Might I ask from what?"
"Yourself, apparently. You cannot deny, Ashli, that death has a thing for you."
Holy crap. How did he know that?
He added, "Haven't you felt it? The nagging sensation that your life is about to end? Perhaps had dreams about it?"
The blood in her veins turned to crushed ice. How could he possibly know that? The only person she'd ever mentioned anything to was her therapist, and she found it highly unlikely that Doctora Hernandez would share her patients' most private thoughts with a pervy stalker with a workout obsession.
"I don't know what sick game you're playing, but whatever," Ashli said. "You can explain yourself to the police. By the way, in Mexico, a fifty-peso bribe can make your prison stay a little extra horrible. I'm throwing down one hundred."