He smelled Emma’s blood long before the doctor made his way down the hall to where he waited, his pulse pounding, afraid to move, to turn, to see the look on the man’s face.

“Mr. Bannaconni?”

“Just tell me.” Jake kept his back to the man, his shoulders stiff, his spine straight.

“Your fiancée is in recovery. We had to give her a great deal of blood, but she made it through the surgery. We’ve done our best to correct the damage that occurred at the time of the accident, so it’s possible she could carry another child sometime in the future, but she has to get through tonight. She’s weak, Mr. Bannaconni. I won’t lie to you. We aren’t out of the woods yet.”

Jake swung around, golden eyes glittering, so that the doctor sucked in his breath and stepped back a pace. “I want to see her now. Take me to her.”

“She’s in recovery. You’ll have to wait until she’s out and in her room.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed and he took a step forward. A low, warning growl rumbled in his throat. Stillman leapt up and stepped between the two men.

“I suggest, Doctor, that you take Mr. Bannaconni to his fiancée immediately. If anyone can ensure that she doesn’t die, it will be him. He won’t be in your way.” The lawyer’s voice was smooth, but left little to argue with.

The doctor reached behind him and slid his card through the mechanism to disengage the lock. “This way, sir.”

Jake followed the man to the recovery room. Emma looked small and lost, her face white, her eyes closed. There was blood in one bag and a clear liquid in another. Brenda Hacker shot him a quick, reassuring smile as she toed a chair in his direction. Jake straddled it up near Emma’s head, facing her, and settled in for a long night. He had no intentions of losing Emma at this point, and if sheer will meant anything, she would be staying right with him.

5

SEVENTEEN MONTHS LATER

“YOU keep it up, boss man, and we’re not going to have any crew left,” Drake Donovon said. He leaned forward in the saddle and spat on the ground. “You’ve always been as mean as a snake, Jake, but now you’re getting downright ugly.”

“You think I give a damn whether they like me or not?” Jake snarled. “And don’t call me ‘boss man.’ You only do it when you’re pissed.”

Drake shrugged. “You lose me any more of my crew and I’ll be walking myself.” His probing gaze slid over Jake, clearly assessing him. “You brought me here to educate you about your heritage, but you don’t listen to me.” He looked around, his face suddenly etched with something close to sorrow. “I have a hard time breathing here. If I can’t be of help to you, I need to go back to the forest where I belong.”

“No way, Drake. I need you here.” Jake cursed the fact that he’d been so moody, so edgy, everything and everyone around him making him want to fight, to rip and tear at anything. The mood swings didn’t seem to let up, not for a moment, and the black temper rode him so hard that he actually felt uncomfortable even in his own skin. He knew he had a cruel side to him, he just hadn’t been so aware of it slipping out before he could get control. He despised that part of him, so like his parents, so cutting and cold. He’d sworn he would never be like that, yet here he was, the master of cruelty.

What the hell had Emma said to him the other night while he lay on her bed, his blood pounding with need in his veins. Power corrupts. It had been another night where neither could sleep and they’d engaged in one of their common “we don’t know what the hell we’re talking about” conversations, but that little phrase stuck in his head. His parents were corrupted by the need for money and power. Was it possible he was just as corrupted? He hated admitting to Emma he had a sense of entitlement.

“I listen to you, Drake,” Jake said. Drake Donovon was not a man to be pushed around. Danger lurked just beneath the surface. He was a good man to have on one’s side, but would definitely make a bitter, unrelenting enemy. Jake raked his fingers through his hair, wanting to jump out of his skin. If he ever needed anyone in his life right then, it was Drake.

Drake shook his head. He was built along the same lines as Jake, broad shoulders; thick, muscular chest; ropes of muscles along his arms and thighs. An enormously strong man, yet lithe and fluid, moving silently, like water flowing over rock. It wasn’t difficult to notice the pronounced limp he had when he moved. When he was still, everything stopped. He became so still he was nearly a part of his surroundings. His blond hair was shaggy and untamed, his eyes a little strange, piercing and focused, a brilliant golden green.

“You need a woman. I told you, you can’t go that long and let the tension build up.”

“I’ve had women, sometimes twice in a day. A few times more, damn it. It doesn’t do any good. I’m still as hard as a rock and feel meaner than ever. It claws at me day and night until I think I’m going insane. I haven’t slept in weeks. I can barely walk half the time, and if a man comes near the house, I want to rip his fucking head off.” Not to mention, when he lay beside Emma on her bed, he felt guilty, as though he’d betrayed her. And worse, he wanted to attack her. He was afraid he might actually lose control one day and just roll her under him and bury himself deep and hard, the way he wanted.

Drake blinked, his eyes suddenly narrowing, one eyebrow shooting up. “Near the house?” he echoed. “And what claws at you?”