Bomber barked ferociously, darting in toward an unseen enemy. Sarah, Kate and Abigail reached for Elle's writhing body. Elle fought her invisible assailant, slapping at nonexistent hands, at her breasts, her thighs, screaming now, kicking as if she was trying to dislodge a hidden attacker. She rolled across the room, actually hit the dog, who snapped his teeth at empty air, up close near her throat.
The room erupted into total chaos. The five Drake sisters leapt to help Elle. Ilya was there before the women, kneeling beside Elle, but not touching her. When Joley tried again to get past him to her sister, he firmly pushed her back behind him. Joley struggled to get around Ilya, the dog barked continuously and Elle fought anything that came near her, screaming and crying, hitting out with her fists and drumming at the floor with her bare heels. Her fist struck Sarah's arm, skidded off and nearly caught Kate in the face.
Elle's body lifted a second time, this time by the top of her head, as if the unseen hand grasped her long hair and yanked her up. She stumbled back, coughing, kicking, tears pouring down her face. Jackson could see the marks on her skin now. Fingers sinking into her flesh. Bomber continued to bark, wanting to attack, acting as if he could sense the entity.
Elle fell again and tried to crawl across the room, away from her family, away from the dog, toward the door. The floor of the house undulated, a long roll that added to the chaos. Tea spilled. Elle flipped over on her back, kicking and fighting, sheer concentration mixed with terror on her pale face.
"Join with us, Elle," Sarah demanded. "You're shutting us out. We can fight him off with you." She approached her sister again, this time more cautiously, Kate, Libby and Abigail behind her while Ilya kept Joley across the room.
The four sisters touched hands, and Sarah laid her palm on Elle's forehead. Elle rolled away from her, knocking into an end table. A lamp crashed to the floor. Kate burst into tears and began sobbing. Joley buried her face against Ilya's chest.
"Elle, please," Sarah pleaded. "Come on, honey, you have to let us in. We can help you."
Elle shook her head, her body shuddering as she was half lifted up and slammed back to the floor, the breath driven from her lungs. The attack was brutal and vicious, a punishment, an act of ownership, clear to everyone in the room.
Jackson stood then. Everything had happened in moments, and during that time he'd studied his enemy. He was certain he knew what to do. He flexed his fingers, his heart beating hard in his chest, too hard, the sound like thunder in his ears. His gut hurt, it was knotted so tight. He could see bruises forming on Elle's delicate skin, around her throat, the fingers pressing hard into the swell of her breasts beneath the thin material of her shirt. There would be bruises there as well, he knew. He pushed through the circle of women and signaled to the dog to cease barking.
Elle looked at him, shaking her head, pushing backward with her heels in an effort to keep away from him.
"You're scaring her more, Jackson," Sarah said. "Can't you see she's terrified?"
He ignored Sarah's restraining hand and straddled Elle's small body, catching her flailing fists and pinning them above her head, settling his weight on her to pin her to the floor. She bucked wildly, trying to throw him off.
"Jackson!" Even Libby, the quiet one without a mean bone in her body, tried to pull him off Elle.
He could feel, as if from a distance, hands pulling at him, fists pounding on his back, but his entire being was centered on Elle.
"Elle." Jackson said her name calmly, his voice soft, very low. He remained straddling her, pinning her wrists to the floor ignoring her sisters who continued to try to shove him off her. "Elle, open your eyes and look at me." He waited a heartbeat. Two. Certain she heard him. She thrashed underneath, fighting, crying, begging, shredding his heart, but he refused to give into his own fears.
He was her one refuge. He focused on that, not on what was happening to her. "Elle. Look at me." This time he put more command in his voice, although he kept his tone low and soft.
Her lashes fluttered. Long. Wet. Heartbreaking. Her emerald gaze met his. Recognized him with a jolt of terror.
"Give yourself to me."
She shook her head violently.
He leaned closer. Sarah tried to pry him off by grabbing his hair. Ilya caught her around the waist and pulled her physically off him just as Bomber rumbled a warning.
"Give yourself to me, Elle." He said it again. Calm. Implacable. A relentless demand. Ignoring everything else around them. There was only the two of them. Elle and Jackson. No one else. Nothing else.
Her eyes pleaded with him. He knew what she was afraid of. She believed if he joined with her mind that Gratsos would be able to harm him. She feared the same for her sisters. Elle, his Elle, courageous as always, was protecting everyone she loved.
He slowly shook his head, holding her gaze. "Give yourself completely to me, Elle. He can't hurt me. I'm stronger than he is. Together we're far stronger. Give me your heart and mind and give me your body."
Now the room around him was so silent he could hear breathing, was able to distinguish each sister, the dog, Ilya, especially Elle's terrified rhythm. He forced his own air to be slow and steady, his heart and hers, his lungs and hers. One and the same. "Come with me, baby. Give yourself to me."
He bent down toward her face with infinite patience, infinite slowness. Time seemed to stand still. His vision tunneled. His hearing faded to center only on Elle. For him, there was no one else in the room. It was only the two of them. Elle and Jackson. "Your body, Elle, trust me. Give yourself to me, baby."
She took a breath, let it out, and visibly made the effort to relax beneath him. She stopped her frantic struggling, her gaze locked with his. He could see fear, but there was trust. Her muscles relaxed. Whatever Stavros was doing to her, she simply accepted it. She allowed her heart to beat slower, to match the steady rhythm. She forced her lungs to follow the pattern of his. Her gaze never wavered from his and her body became his--melting into his strong frame, soft and pliant while he stretched out over the top of her, his weight settling, his heavier muscles blanketing her.
"That's my girl. Now your mind. One mind, baby, that's what we are, what we need to be. Open up your mind and let me in."
The room around him was absolutely quiet, still, as if everyone held his or her breath and waited. Jackson didn't look away from Elle. It was only them. The two of them and no one else in the world. He waited for her to let go of her fear and turn herself over to him. It was a huge step for her. Fighting, she at least felt as if she had a semblance of control. She swallowed hard, blinked several times and then her barriers came tumbling down, as if she removed them fast so she wouldn't lose her nerve.
He flowed into her mind, filling every space, wrapping himself in her tightly, claiming her, pouring strength and resolve and building her resistance to Gratsos. Jackson caught her head in his palms, framing the little heart-shaped pixie face with his large hands and he lowered her head to his.
Her breath caught in her throat. Her lips parted. She watched him come to her. Jackson. Her other half. Her strength. Her one and only love. He filled her mind, filled her heart and soul. Flooded her body with need and heat. There was no room for anything or anyone else in her mind or heart. In her body or soul. There was only Jackson. He came to her with exquisite gentleness, with disarming tenderness.
His lips touched her, firm and cool, velvet soft, heating fast. His tongue stroked along the seam of her lips, teased and seduced, drove out every depraved brutal act Stavros had committed and replaced it with something altogether different. She burned inside. In her mind. In her heart, deep in her body where she craved only Jackson. She opened her mouth and drew him in.
Jackson, for the first time, felt the other man. Oily. Evil. A thick ooze of a human being rotted from the inside out. The handsome shell covered a poor excuse of humanity, with a sense of entitlement Jackson had never encountered before.
Try me, you son of a bitch.
He issued the
challenge, knowing Gratsos was already retreating, fleeing Elle's mind, leaving her shaking, nearly convulsing on the floor, sobbing with relief and clinging to Jackson. She slid her arms around his neck and pressed her face against his throat, weeping uncontrollably, unrestrained, something none of her sisters had ever seen her do before.
"It's all right, baby," he said gently. "He's gone now. He ran like the coward he is." He slid from her body and onto the floor at her side, although she continued to cling to him. He put his arm under her knees and lifted her, carrying her to the high-backed recliner on the far side of the room. "You're stronger than he is, Elle, you're just burned out right now. Once you're at full strength, I'm telling you, he won't be able to get inside you."
She held him tighter, her fingers digging into his muscles, trying to burrow under his skin and lose herself there. Jackson hated that they had an audience, even if it was her family. She seemed too vulnerable, too fragile, and Elle would hate that. He looked at them, his eyes burning, fierce, but he couldn't help it. He knew he looked intimidating, but this was Elle--his Elle--and he wanted only to protect her.
Sarah hung her head. "I'm sorry, Jackson. I should have known you were helping her. She wanted you, trusted you, not us."
Her voice was so sad, his heart ached. Elle remained in a fetal ball, curled into him, still weeping, but silent now, trying to come to terms with that fact that Gratsos had managed to attack her from across an ocean.
"You're wrong, Sarah," Jackson said. "Elle trusts you with her life, with her soul. She was protecting you from him. She's been protecting you all along."
"He can't hurt us." Sarah bit her lip, stopping the rest of her sentence. Jackson was glaring at her, knowing she'd been about to blurt out that they were too strong for Gratsos, yet Elle had been the strongest among them and she'd been captured and tortured repeatedly.
It was Elle who answered, lifting her head, her chin up, eyes a bit defiant. "He can, Sarah. He can hurt all of you. You can't conceive of his kind of money or power. No one ever tells him no. He wants something and he gets it. The police are his, the politicians are his, and now we know he has psychic abilities. He isn't afraid to hurt anyone and he's going to keep coming after me. It's bad enough that I'm risking Jackson, I'm not about to risk any of you."
"He got in our home," Jackson said. "If we were at your house, would you be protected?"
Elle shrugged. "I can't go there until my brain heals."
Sarah frowned. "Why, Elle? I don't understand. The house can protect you much better than this place. You know that. And why won't you let Libby--"
"Not Libby," Jackson interrupted. "Libby can heal brain injuries and she can heal the body, but Kate heals the psychic burnout, don't you, Kate?"
"Don't answer that, Kate," Elle defended fiercely. "It's a moot point anyway as no one is going near my mind. It's too dangerous and you all just witnessed why."
11
KATE looked down at her hands when all eyes turned to her. To Jackson, Kate Drake had a certain regal quality. She was the quietest of the Drake sisters, a little shy and rarely brought attention to herself. She loved her books and curling up in her home on a stormy day with her family the most. That and Matt Granite, the rough, tough ex-Army Ranger who just happened to be her fiance.
"You and Jackson are strong enough to shield me from anything you're afraid of, Elle," she said, her voice soothing and confident. She walked to the window and looked out over the sea. Far away she could see tendrils of dark heavy fog receding. "I won't do anything you don't want me to do, but, honey, it's very obvious to me that when Jackson lets go of your mind, this man, this enemy, has found a way in."
Elle frowned and rubbed at her bruised throat. "But how? I don't understand how he can take me over like that." Like he was possessing her somehow, crawling inside her mind and raping her all over again. She could feel the touch of his hands, the way he chose to hurt her, the way he taunted that he could bring her pleasure. She hadn't wanted Jackson to hear that, to know or feel it, yet he had.
She looked at Jackson with despair in her eyes, feeling it with terrible dread in her heart. "I'm so sorry," she murmured.
"Do you really fucking think I would ever blame you for the things he did to you?" Jackson spat out, shaking with rage before he could contain it. He made a visible effort to gain control, letting out his breath and burying his face in her neck for a long moment. "Stavros Gratsos has nothing to do with what is between you and me and he never will have. He doesn't know what love is, or pleasure or giving and sharing one's body. He wants to possess you and control you, force you to be whatever he chooses for you." He might have forced your body to react to him, Elle, but he never had you. He'll never have the real you. "You're my heart and my soul, baby, and whatever he did was all about him and nothing about you."
"I can try," Kate said. "I'd like to help."
Elle took a deep breath and shook her head regretfully. She wasn't strong enough to shield Kate from the emotional trauma of what had happened to her and she wasn't about to let her gentle sister experience a man as depraved as Stavros. Jackson had saved her.
You saved yourself by taking that leap of faith. You trusted me enough to give yourself to me wholly. And Jackson had been humbled by Elle's faith in him. After all she'd been through, she'd still believed in him enough to let go of everything and hand herself over to him. He kissed the top of her head, trying not to crush her in his arms. He had the need to hold on to her with everything he was, every last bit of his strength, and shelter and protect her, make certain nothing could ever touch her again.
Elle stirred, pressing closer, but she didn't respond. Her mind moved against his, a warmth, a feeling consuming him that he was unfamiliar with. Love. It felt like love flooding his mind.
"Everyone needs to rest," Ilya said. "We should go back to the Drake house and let Jackson and Elle have a little time to recoup before we make any decisions. Kate, before you do anything, you need to discuss it with Matt."
Her chin rose. "I can help my sister without consulting my fiance, Ilya."
His eyebrow shot up. "Really? Not when you're risking burning out your own talents."
Joley scowled at him. "It's bad enough that you want to boss me around, but I swear, Ilya, you're turning into another Jonas. Don't be telling my sister what to do."
Ilya caught her chin in his hand and leaned down to brush a kiss over her upturned mouth. "Believe me, honey, it takes both Jonas and me to keep the lot of you in line. It's a full-time job for us."
Elle tried to smile as the ribbing started. Ilya had successfully moved the attention from her, but now she could dwell on what had happened as she looked around the room and saw the broken lamp and the overturned furniture. She felt every bruise and her throat was sore. Was she letting Stavros have access to her by just simply thinking of him? Letting him into her thoughts and mind? If so, how could she possibly stop? He'd done terrible things to her, things she couldn't help but remember in vivid detail. Worse, what if she was just plain crazy and none of it was real? She was asking Jackson to believe her, but could her mind be so hysterical that she was somehow doing this to herself?
No! I felt him, too. And Bomber knew he was here. I think he has access whenever my mind leaves yours. You're too broken now, your natural barrier's in shreds and he waits until you're defenseless and then he pours in like the ooze he is.
Another man had assaulted his woman in front of him. If Gratsos could have, he would have raped her to show her she had no control, that she was nothing and he could get to her anytime he wanted. Rage was a living, breathing entity deep inside and Jackson breathed it away, forcing his mind from that dark place where he'd lived for so long. What Gratsos didn't understand was, Elle was far more powerful than the shipping magnate could ever conceive. And combined with Jackson, when she was back to full strength, he was certain Gratsos wouldn't stand a chance. In the meantime, he had to keep her safe.
It was surprising how small of a bal
l Elle could curl into. She took up very little of his lap and felt small and light in his arms. He wanted to be alone with her. "Maybe we should let Elle rest," he agreed with Ilya. Jackson was busy examining the damage done to Elle without trying to make it obvious. Gratsos was angry with her. He'd wanted to hurt her and he'd done so. She was shaking and trying to hide it from her family.
Libby crossed the room to stand in front of them. "I know you don't want me to feel anything that happened to you and I respect that, Elle. But I'm a doctor as well as your sister, and I can heal."
"You've done that. I can tell my wounds are already better," Elle said in a small voice, without looking up. She burrowed closer into Jackson.
Libby sighed. "That isn't good enough, hon. I have things I have to check for and you know it. We can't wait. I don't think I'll need to touch you, not unless I find something." She waited. Elle remained silent and Libby stepped even closer to her sister and held her palms outward, starting throat high, as if she were a machine taking an X-ray. Very slowly she ran her hands down Elle's body, hovering for a long while near her groin.
Elle could feel warmth pouring into her. She curled her fingers around Jackson and just held on. It was humiliating to her that she couldn't stop Stavros, that he had managed to kidnap and subject her to a monthlong torture and rape. She couldn't imagine the women who had been taken and used as sex slaves for months and years on end. How hopeless they had to feel, how small and insignificant. How ashamed.
Stop it, baby. They have no reason to feel shame and neither do you. The people who do this kind of thing to others should feel shame. Jackson brushed kisses over the top of her head.
Libby dropped her hand, staggered and Sarah wrapped her arm around her sister's waist. "There's no disease, no pregnancy, and I healed the tears and bruises as best I could without touching you, Elle," Libby whispered, her voice choked. She turned away leaning heavily on Sarah.
Elle's sisters gathered around Libby as they started toward the door. "We'll be back to do another healing session and this time, we'll be much more careful," Sarah promised. "Ilya's taking us home. You know you're welcome to come."