Elizabeth Lowell - A Woman Without Lies

He followed Angel into the cabin and switched on all the lights. When he turned around, Angel was sitting with her back presented to the strongest source of light.

Hawk knelt beside her. His mouth thinned to a harsh line when he saw the blood seeping through the soft green yarn of Angel’s sweater. With exquisite gentleness, he eased the sweater over the steel curve and straight shank of the hook, managing not to exert any pressure on the hook itself.

When Hawk saw beneath the sweater, he said a single, violent word under his breath. The hook was almost as long as his thumb. He could see neither the hook’s glittering tip nor the barb that was designed to sink into flesh and stay there.

“It’s in past the barb, isn’t it?” Angel asked.

Only the slightest quiver in her voice showed how much the hook hurt her.

“Yes.”

She moved as though to take off her sweater.

“Don’t, Angel. I can see enough.”

“If the entry angle isn’t too steep, you can push the barb through, cut if off, and then remove the hook,” she said. “Otherwise you’ll have to cut the skin to free the barb.”

Angel’s matter-of-fact words exactly paralleled Hawk’s thoughts.

“Either way, it will hurt like hell,” he said bluntly.

“Then you’ll get to hear your fishing guide scream and swear and otherwise make a fool of herself.”

When Hawk didn’t answer, Angel turned just enough to look into his eyes.

“It’s only pain, Hawk. It passes.”

“I could take you to a doctor.”

“Why? You have quicker hands than any doctor who ever treated me.”

“Angel… ”

“There are pliers and a wire cutter in the tackle box. If you don’t want to do it, call Carlson. He’s seen me scream before.”

Hawk hesitated, wanting to ask when and why Carlson had seen Angel scream with pain. But it was the wrong time for questions.

With another soft, vicious curse, Hawk went to the tackle box. He found two pairs of needle nose pliers and the wire cutter. He brought them back, doused them with alcohol, and went to where Angel waited.

“Ready?” asked Hawk, his voice flat.

“Just a moment.”

Angel closed her eyes and reached for the cascading colors. They poured through her mind, colors too beautiful to describe, too pure to be real.

“Now,” she murmured, and began naming the fantastic colors in her mind.

Using the pliers for grip and leverage on the steel shank, Hawk forced the hook to complete its shallow curve through Angel’s flesh. He cut off the barb cleanly, then pulled out what remained of the hook in a swift, smooth motion.

Angel gasped and made a low sound of pain.

Hawk dropped the bloody, broken hook into the tackle box and wrapped his hands around Angel’s arms, bracing her and looking at the twin wounds on her golden skin.

“It’s done,” Hawk said, his voice harsh.

“Thank you,” Angel said, her voice trembling.

She let out a long, ragged sigh.

“When was your last tetanus shot?” Hawk asked.

“I don’t fish with rusty hooks,” said Angel indignantly, breathing more deeply now that the hook didn’t dig into her with each breath. “Anyway, my shots are current. There’s some antibiotic salve in a kit in the tackle box. That should take care of infection.”

Hawk hesitated. “Can you move your shoulder blades, twist around a bit?”

“Why?”

“You’ve only bled about six drops. That’s not enough to clean out the deepest part of the wound.”

Angel rotated her shoulder blades slowly. Her sweater slipped down her back. She gathered the soft folds and pulled them over her head with an impatient motion.

Hawk’s breath shortened at the satin sheen and movement of Angel’s skin. She wore no more on her back than a wisp of apricot bra and two bright drops of blood, one on each wound left by the hook as it stitched through her flesh. Despite her movements, no more blood came.

“This will hurt,” said Hawk.

It was his only warning. One arm slid around Angel’s waist and the other crossed just above her breasts as he bent his mouth to her back. He sucked hard on first one wound, then the other. The force of his suction drew blood, which naturally cleansed her flesh.

After an initial, sharp breath, Angel neither moved nor protested. The intimacy of Hawk’s hard arms and lips held her motionless. His mouth should have hurt her, but all she felt was his heat and strength.

For an instant before Hawk lifted his head, Angel thought she felt his mouth soften and caress her. When she turned to look at him, she saw a drop of her blood on his lips.

“Are you all right?” asked Hawk.

His voice was husky in the odd, breathless silence that had closed around the cabin.

Angel nodded. Her fingertip slowly came up to Hawk’s mouth. Before she could touch the crimson trembling on his lip, his tongue moved, absorbing the drop. His eyes darkened almost to black as the salt-sweet taste of her spread through him. Slowly he stood and pulled Angel to her feet.

“You’re pale,” he said softly. “Lie down on the forward bunk. I’ll bring in the salve and bandages.”

Angel swayed slightly. She felt weak, almost dizzy – and foolish. It was Hawk’s closeness, not pain, that was affecting her so strongly.

With a swift movement, Hawk opened the small door on the far side of the cockpit. Gently he helped Angel onto the triangular bed that filled the space beneath the bow. She lay facedown, listening to him move about the cabin behind her. There was enough room for her to sit up in the bow, but she didn’t. She was content to just to lie quietly, waiting for Hawk to come to her.

Angel heard Hawk’s smooth step, felt the mattress give as he sat next to her, and then the sudden, breathtaking release of the catch on her bra. A warm washcloth moved gently down her back, bathing away the last of the blood.

“Hurt?” asked Hawk, his voice gritty.

“No.”

Angel’s answer was barely a breath.

For a few moments there was only the soft sound of a damp cloth moving over skin. A pause, then Hawk’s fingers replaced the cloth.

“Such beautiful skin,” murmured Hawk. “Smooth, golden.”

He bent down. His mustache brushed over Angel’s shoulder.

“You smell like summer,” he said in a deep voice.

Angel’s breath stopped. Chills moved visibly over her, a helpless response to the silky touch of Hawk.

“This may sting,” he said, sitting up as though nothing had happened.

The salve was cool, as smooth as Hawk’s voice and fingers caressing her. Angel sighed, breathing again, her arms bent and her hands tucked beneath her chin.

Hawk pressed a bandage lightly into place over the twin puncture wounds. He gathered up the ends of Angel’s bra as though to fasten it in place again.

Then he let the lacy material slide from his fingers as he smoothed aside her braid and bent to kiss the nape of her neck.

Angel felt the heat of Hawk’s breath, his mouth, his chest rubbing lightly over her as he caressed the sensitive skin at the base of her neck. She shivered and would have turned over to face him, but Hawk put his hands on her shoulders, chaining her.

His mouth caressed her neck, her hairline, the curve of her skull; and then his hard tongue teased her ears. She moaned and moved reflexively, slowly, arching like a cat to increase the pressure of Hawk’s mouth.

Hawk murmured thickly as he slid the bra straps off Angel’s shoulders with a single swift motion of his hands. His tongue and teeth traced the graceful line of her back down to the sensitive hollow hidden beneath her black jeans. His hands caressed her calves, her thighs, the taut curve of her hips, the heat between her thighs, and all the while his mouth devoured her delicately, ravenously, a sensual assault that was like nothing Angel had ever experienced.

Only when Angel was twisting helplessly beneath Hawk’s knowing touch did he allow her to roll over. He pulled the bra free as she moved and threw it aside. His eyes blazed darkly, pupils dilated until there was little color, only desire.

Angel was more beautiful than Hawk had expected. She was more beautiful than anything he had ever seen. Flawless gold skin swelling into nipples flushed deepest rose, her eyes a soft green fire watching him, wanting him.

When he bent his mouth to her breasts, she tried to speak.

“Hawk – ”

“Hush,” he said, his voice gritty.

He wanted only silence and Angel’s beauty, her body’s heat surrounding him. It was too soon for the cold rain of lies to begin.

Hawk’s mouth closed over Angel’s breast, pulling the nipple deeply into his mouth.

The words she had been going to say scattered in the explosion of sensations radiating through her. She moaned and twisted slowly against his caressing mouth in a feminine demand that was as old as desire.

Yet it was new to Angel. Grant had never taken her into his mouth, had never scraped his teeth gently, savagely, over her until she wanted to scream with pleasure, had never stroked her with his tongue until she shivered and cried out. Grant had been cautious of the passion that consumed him each time he touched Angel.

Hawk was not.

Hawk let the currents of desire drive both of them to the heights of need. And then his hands moved quickly over Angel, taking her clothes, leaving her naked to his touch. His fingers tangled in the golden mound of hair below her navel, testing lightly the heat and hunger of her, rubbing over her, teasing her until she shuddered with the tension building in her, consuming her.

“Hawk – ”

His hand moved skillfully, heat showering, words stopping in Angel’s throat.

But not for long.

“Hawk – I’m not – experienced.”

The words came between the shudders of sensual tension that racked Angel’s body, teaching her more than she had ever thought to know about need and pleasure. She didn’t see the cold curl at the corner of Hawk’s mouth or the narrowing of his eyes, his savage anger that the lies had started so soon.

When Angel opened her eyes again, Hawk was naked, swooping down on her, covering her with his body like a raptor mantling its prey. She had no time to speak or think or conceal the cry of pain that came when he took her.

Hawk froze, astonishment and hunger struggling for control of his body until his emotions exploded into a searing rage.

“You can’t be a virgin!”

But even as Hawk denied it, he knew that Angel hadn’t lied.

The shock of Angel’s truth went through Hawk, shaking his certainties as nothing had since he was eighteen and his world had been shattered by a woman’s lies.

Like a cornered animal, Hawk fought to protect himself by attacking Angel.

“Hawk – ” Angel said hoarsely.

She moved reflexively, trying to ease the pressure of him inside her. The motion took control away from him, hurling him into unwanted pleasure.

“Damn you!” Hawk snarled, shuddering, raging against the release that was taking him whether he willed it to or not. “Damn you to hell!”

With a final shudder Hawk rolled aside, freeing Angel. He fought to control himself again, to absorb the terrible knowledge that Angel had not lied to him about being inexperienced. He didn’t understand what had happened. He didn’t understand her.

And Hawk must understand or his world would be utterly destroyed.

Again.

Angel lay without moving, feeling Hawk’s condemnation sink into her more deeply than steel talons. A tangle of emotions swept over her – frustration, bafflement, pain, and finally anger, a fury so deep that it frightened her.

She had felt rage like this before. It had almost burned out all that was human in her.

Silently Angel fought for self-control, fought not to scream, fought not to curse a life that seemed to hold out the hope of happiness only to take it away, leaving her broken and struggling to survive.

“Why?” Angel asked, not hearing her own anguish, not even hearing the single word that had pierced her control.

“That’s my line!” Hawk retorted.

His voice was as savage as his eyes. He grabbed Angel’s shoulders, forcing her to look at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded.

“I tried,” said Angel numbly, speaking without thinking, reduced to reflex and pain. “And then I thought you already knew.”

“How in Christ’s name would I know?” Hawk’s hands bit into her shoulders. “I thought you were sleeping with Derry and Carlson. You sure as hell didn’t respond like a virgin. You were as hot as anyone I’ve ever crawled into bed with.”

“Sleeping with Derry? Sleeping with Carlson?” Angel repeated the words without comprehending them. “But I told you. Derry’s like my brother and Carlson is a friend.”