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  Her face heated up as her dream reappeared in her mind. "No, that's all right. Thanks." Another shaft of pain pierced her back and she gritted her teeth as she struggled to sit up. "So much for my yoga."

  "Don't be so hard on yourself. Even professional athletes pull muscles." His look deepened. "Seriously. Lie back down. A back rub will help."

  "Oh, I'm sure it will." Her aching muscles were saying yes, but her mind was saying no. Having him massage her left her breathless. "I…no…thanks." She rose. A spasm speared her lower back and she flinched, grimacing in pain.

  Gently, he took her by the shoulders and eased her down. "I insist."

  She gave him a wary look and found herself nodding. The couch was long enough to fit her length and wide enough for him to sit on the edge by her legs. Shyly, she lay down on her stomach, her arms cradling her head. She closed her eyes, a little self-conscious at having her backside exposed to him even though it was clad in denim. For a long moment she didn't feel his hands and wondered if he changed his mind.

  "Er…maybe I should just take a hot shower," she said.

  "Yes, but first let me loosen your muscles."

  His voice sounded curiously hoarse and she wondered if he--oh God! His hands were heaven. They started on her lower back, above the band of her low rider jeans and moved up, gliding over her stiff muscles. A soft moan escaped her lips. Slowly, sensually, his hands moved back to her hips and slid her T-shirt up over her back.

  "Do you mind if I loosen your bra?" he asked, his voice curiously strained. "It will easier for me."

  She thanked her lucky stars she was wearing her good bra, the white, lacy one. "Okay."

  She held her breath as he unclasped her bra strap and touched her bare skin. Stella melted. Squeezing her eyes, she let herself go and loosened up under his magic touch.

  His massage went on and on and she wished it wouldn't end. God, he was great at this. Her back was starting to feel better.

  "How do you feel?" he asked deeply.

  "Amazing. You have a healing touch," she murmured. She felt his hands on her hair, drawing it over her back. He thread through her long mane and she moaned again.

  "You have beautiful hair," he murmured almost as though he was speaking to himself.

  "Now you've found my weak spot," she said. "Playing with my hair."

  "Actually, I'm enjoying it," he replied, his tone hinting at a smile.

  "When I was little, my mom had to play with my hair to put me to sleep," she murmured. "Umm…you better stop, otherwise I'm going to fall asleep and you'll have to carry me to bed."

  His hands stilled, resting on her back.

  She stiffened.

  The air was charged with electricity. Slowly, he ran his hands over her back, down her arms and back to her shoulders. Her breath caught. This wasn't a massage. This was a sensual exploration. A thick, sexual awareness hung between them and she knew she should get up, but couldn't. He was running his hands down the side of her body, grazing one bare breast and she gasped as heat invaded her limbs. And then his hands were on waist, lifting her gently, turning her around. She lay on her back gazing up at him, her lips parted in awe at the look of desire on his face.

  "You're driving me mad," he said hoarsely. "What are you doing to me?"

  "The same thing you're doing to me," she whispered, afraid to break their moment. He was going to kiss her, she thought. She held her breath as he lowered his head, his gaze holding hers.

  The moment his mouth touched hers, she melted and closed her eyes, moaning softly against his lips. His mouth was warm and sensual and she felt his hands travel up to her face as he kissed her slowly, seductively. She heard a low, deep groan at the back of his throat and ran her hands over his back to his head, threading her fingers through his hair. It felt like silk.

  Then with a deep groan, he pulled back, dragging his mouth from hers and gave her a heated look.

  "I want to make love to you, but we can't," he said, his face tight with passion.

  Stella inhaled shakily. "Why not?" She cringed inwardly. Oh God, she sounded desperate.

  "You wouldn't understand. There are things about me you don't know. Things I can't tell you."

  She grew cold. "Do…do you have a girlfriend?"

  "No. There's no one." As he withdrew slowly, he gently pulled her T-shirt over her breasts. "I'm sorry. I went too far." He rose from the couch, staring down at her with an unfathomable look on his face.

  "I wasn't exactly protesting." She tried to sound casual, but her feelings were hurt. She wanted him, badly, but she wasn't going to beg. She had pride, and right now, she needed to lick her wounds in private. She rose shakily.

  "Thank you for the massage. It helped. I…I'm going to take that shower now and go to bed." She turned and walked away from him, but his hand on her arm stopped her.

  "I'm sorry, Stella. I wish there was a way I could explain things to you, but I can't."

  "You're afraid to let people in."

  He dropped his hand. "With good reason," he said abruptly. "Being with me always ends up bad. Family, friends, Tyler."

  This time she was the one who reached for his arm. "Gunnar, you have to stop blaming yourself for what happened to Tyler. From what I know, you weren't even driving that day. Your ex was."

  He grimaced. "You don't know the whole story. She wasn't supposed to take him to the country that day. I had a deadline and asked her to take him with her. She was going to visit her parents. He wanted to stay with me, but I told him I was too busy. If I hadn't pawned off Tyler to her, he would still be alive today."

  He grabbed her by both her shoulders and his eyes bore down on hers. The expression behind them frightened her.

  "So, don't talk to me about guilt. Have you ever made a choice in your life that led to the death of a beloved person?" He shook her, almost violently. "Have you?"

  "Yes," she said brokenly, refusing to cower under his fury. He looked shaken as he stared at her, and slowly she felt his rage melt away. He loosened his hold on her shoulders.

  "I'm sorry." He swallowed hard.

  She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. The past was something she never visited. "It's not your fault. My parents died in a car accident because of me. I was thirteen at the time and my parents had planned a night out alone. They wanted to spend the evening in the city and stay overnight in a nice hotel. My dad would always do things like that for my mom. They had a special love." She drew in a shaky breath. "Anyway, I was angry with them because they wanted me to cancel my sleepover at a friend's house to stay home and babysit my sisters. I told them I hated them and that I would never speak to them again. That night there was an ice warning. Everyone was advised not to drive until the roads were salted, but my parents felt so guilty for me they decided to drive back after their dinner and cancel their hotel stay."

  She paused to blink away the tears. "The cops came to our house that night to tell my sisters and me what happened. My parents were in a head on collision with another car. That night we went to live with my Grandmother." She drew in a shaky breath. "So you see, I know exactly how you feel, Gunnar. If I hadn't been selfish that night and allowed my dad to give my mom a wonderful night out, they would both be alive today."

  She brushed a tear from her cheek. "My dad left me a message on our answering machine right after they ate and told me he and mom loved me and they would be driving back, but I was still so mad at them I didn't answer the phone and let it go to voice mail. I…I never had the chance to tell them I loved them or that I was sorry." Her throat felt thick with emotion.

  Without saying a word, Gunnar drew her into his arms and held her close to his chest. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply as a profound feeling of comfort and security flowed through her veins.

  "You're a great hugger," she murmured against his chest.

  He kissed the top of her head and ran a hand up her back to her hair, gently playing with the long strands. She sighed again, feeling much calmer than she did a few minutes ago.

  "Stella, I…" He paused.

  She waited for him to finish what he was going to say, but he remained silent. Gently, she pulled away from him and looked up into his face. Their gazes met and held, his expression a curious mixture of desire, regret, and something else she couldn't define.

  "What were you going to say?"

  He drew in a ragged breath and slowly withdrew from her. "I was going to say you should take that hot shower now."

  She felt like he'd poured a bucket of cold water on her. Stiffly, she nodded and bade him goodnight. In her bedroom, she collapsed on the edge of the bed and raised a shaky hand to her lips. She inhaled sharply.

  He was leaving in eight days.

  And the sooner he left, the sooner she could mend her heart because somewhere along the line she'd grown to care for him. Her stomach jolted. Who was she kidding? She more than cared.

  She was falling for him.

  * * * *

  The next morning she was in the kitchen buttering toast when she heard the front door chimes. She wiped her hands on the kitchen towel and walked down the hall. She tensed, watching Derek step into the hall. The hateful look on his face yesterday when he stared at Gunnar was still fresh in her mind and she couldn't find it in herself to be her usual pleasant self.

  Instead of smiling, she frowned. "I didn't order anything, Derek."

  "I know. I was in the area and thought I'd drop in to see if you'd take me up on my offer to help you with your yard work."

  She refrained from mentioning it was seven in the morning. "Actually, I'm taking care of it later in the afternoon." She stared at his face. "Derek, are you okay?"

  His expression darkened. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

  The hair at the back
of her neck rose. His face was all red and his brown eyes had a peculiar yellow tint in them. "You…you look feverish." Was he ill? Was that why he wasn't himself yesterday? She felt a flash of concern. "Here, let me see if your temperature is up." She placed her hand on his forehead. His skin was burning. She yelped as his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist in a vice grip. "Derek! Let go of me. What are you doing?" She yanked her arm from him and rubbed her wrist, giving him a look filled with reproach. "What's wrong with you?"

  He growled.

  She felt the first pang of real fear.

  "Why do you always say no to me?" he asked in a strange voice. "He won't be pleased and I can't fail my mission."

  Stella gasped. He, mission--what the hell was he talking about? He was obviously delusional. "Derek," she began, trying to sound calm, "I think you need to go to the doctor. You're not yourself."

  He laughed harshly. "No, I'm not. Haven't been for a month now."

  He reached for her hand, but she stumbled back.

  "You have to come with me. I have to bring you to him."

  "No!" Her heart raced. "Derek, I think you should leave." And as soon as he left she was going to call the police and tell them where to pick him up and bring him straight to the hospital. His energy was all off. His mind was in scrambles and the few things she could pick up in him were frightening. Cruelty, immorality, madness. Was he having a mental breakdown?

  His face twisted into an evil smile. "The master will turn you on the full moon and then you will be one of us."

  "Leave by your will or leave by force," Gunnar growled.

  Stella gasped and spun around. Gunnar was behind her with a look on his face she could only describe as predatory. She shivered.

  For the first time, a thread of fear flickered in Derek's eyes as he looked at Gunnar. "She doesn't belong to you. I have to bring her to the master."

  "Marcellus."

  "Yes."

  Slowly Gunnar approached him, his fists clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowing. "I will end this now if you don't leave. And you can tell Marcellus he can send an army and I will fight them all to the death."

  Derek's eyes darted over Gunnar's appearance. "I don't see it."

  "It's close by."

  Stella was dizzy at the strange interchange. What was close by? Who the hell was Marcellus?

  Derek growled. "This isn't over." He left.

  Stella turned on shaky legs to Gunnar. "What was that all about?"

  "I want you to stay away from him."

  "Excuse me?"

  In three strides, he took her by the shoulders. "Stay away from him," he ground out. "And from now on, lock your front door. Your customers can ring the bell."

  He was serious. "Gunnar, tell me what's going on," she repeated fearfully.

  His grip tightened. "There are things you will never understand. Things I can't tell you."

  Stunned, she pulled herself out of his grasp. "I can't believe it. I just had my safety threatened and you're keeping things from me?"

  He clenched and unclenched his jaw, his blue gaze getting darker as stared at her. Then without another word, he went to the door. "I'll be back," he said and left.

  Stunned, she heard his tires peel as he pulled out of the driveway.

  Did he just take off after Derek? No. He couldn't have.

  She ran to her window, her heart thumping wildly in her breast, and drew back the curtains. She clearly saw the skid marks in the gravel and the billowing smoke that settled on the drive.

  "You've got to be kidding me," she whispered.

  For the next hour, she sat at her kitchen table, getting more fearful by the minute as she pictured Gunnar beating Derek to a pulp. This was insane. And who the hell was Marcellus, she repeated for the hundredth time? When Gunnar returned, she was going to demand answers.

  The door chimes alerted someone's presence and she snapped her head toward the hall. It was Gunnar and his look was thunderous.

  She rose shakily. "What did you do?"

  "I made sure he stays away from you."

  "What did you do?" Oh my God! Poor Derek.

  Gunnar's mouth thinned. "What I had to do. I protected you."

  A bubble of hysteria rose in her throat. "From Derek? Are you mad? He's an eighteen-year-old boy!"

  He inhaled sharply and in two strides, grabbed her by the shoulders and looked down into her eyes. "Listen to me. Derek is not who he appears to be. He's dangerous."

  She grew cold. "Did you…did you hurt him?"

  A muscle clicked menacingly along his jaw. "No. There were too many people around."

  She sucked in a harsh breath. "What does that mean? You would have hurt him if you were alone?"

  His gaze was unwavering. "Yes."

  "Let go of me." She struggled out of his arms. With a tight jaw, he released her, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "Stay…stay away from me." She turned and fled out the patio door.

  For the rest of the morning, she tried to keep herself busy as fear pummelled her senses. Who was the crazier one? Derek or Gunnar?

  She left his lunch and then his dinner on the table and went outside both times. She gave him ample time to eat and returned both times to see he'd placed the dishes in the dishwasher. This was insane. She couldn't avoid him forever.

  In the evening, she tried settling her unease by stretching out on the love seat in the living room and resuming the novel she was reading. Her ears pricked at the sound of Gunnar coming downstairs. He came into the living room and stared at her. She gave him a guarded look. His expression was unreadable.

  "You know I don't want anything to happen to you," he said.

  Slowly she nodded.

  "And you know I would never do anything to hurt you."

  She couldn't speak, so she nodded again. With an abrupt turn on his heel, he left and she released a long, shaky breath.

  Chapter Eight

  The next afternoon Stella stretched and sighed as perspiration trickled between her breasts. She felt so much better. There was nothing like a good workout to put things in perspective for her and she felt much more in control now than she did yesterday.

  She still hadn't spoken to Gunnar and knew she'd have to approach him sooner or later. She rolled up her yoga mat and placed it in the cupboard by the stair master. Her gaze dropped to the carpeting and she pursed her lips. She had to give her gym a good vacuum soon.

  She jumped when she heard Gunnar's deep voice behind her.

  "There you are. I'm going into town and wanted to know if you needed anything."

  She spun around and saw him at the doorway, watching her with a grim look on his face. All the calm she felt flowing through her limbs fled, leaving her weak kneed and wobbly. His gaze meandered down the length of her body draped in revealing black spandex and she resisted the urge to cover herself with a towel. She knew a body suit was not nearly as revealing as a bathing suit, but couldn't help feeling naked and exposed. Stifling an uncharacteristic surge of self-consciousness, she offered him what she hoped resembled a casual smile. "No, thank you." His gaze went back to her face and their eyes locked.

  "I'll be back within the hour. I know you told me you keep a gun on the premises, but I left you my gun in the hall table. If you need it, use it."

  She stiffened. "Gunnar, I don't think--"

  "Use it. I'll lock the door behind me."

  She nodded slowly.

  "I already checked and know Derek is at work right now, so he won't be back while I'm gone."

  "Gunnar, I think you're overreacting," she said quietly with a twinge of fear. Something told her Gunnar never overreacted. He was methodical, precise, and left no stone unturned.

  His gave her a long, hard look. "I'll be back." He left.

  Later that night, as she lay in bed, she heard a strange sound coming from Gunnar's room. His groan was audible and she rose instantly from her bed. Was he having another nightmare? Quickly, she tied her robe around her and went upstairs to his door. She pressed her ear against it and heard him moan a long treacherous sound. He was dreaming of Tyler again. Quietly, she opened the door, and as on that first night when she'd healed him from his nightmare, she saw him lying bare-chested on his bed with only the sheet covering him from the waist down.

  They'd already shared a kiss and she'd developed some strong feelings for him, so this time the sight was more provoking. He thrashed his head to the side and she caught the look of torture and suffering on his handsome face. Her heart lurched with immediate compassion and she pushed her attraction for him aside.