Escape To Sunset - Sharon Hamilton Page 0,7

least three times had bullied him all through grammar school and into Junior High. Until that fateful day he hit one of them back and got expelled.

Reflex made him grab her forearms and yank her into him.

“Stop it, you Haole tart. I won’t hurt you but I’ll defend myself.”

She was wiggling in front of him, trying to keep air space between them. Then she was kicking his shins with her bare feet, hooking herself around his thick legs and trying to get him off balance. Her fingers reached for his face to scratch him, but he could hold both her wrists in one of his hands, the other arm around her waist, immobilizing her the more she tried to struggle.

He stood like granite, gripping her tighter. He gave her absolutely no room to move as he pressed her up against his chest.

“Stop it. You’re being a child. I’m not hurting you so just quit.”

“I don’t quit. I will never quit. I won’t quit until you let go of me. I’m going to scream rape if you don’t let me go!”

That really pissed him off. He squeezed her wrists together, holding them with just one hand. It made her cry out so he placed his other hand over her mouth. Pressing his nose to her face, he whispered, “Stop it. Dammit. Quit this.”

For several long seconds with their noses pressed against each other, he matched her deep breathing with his own. He assessed her willingness to be reasonable, felt her weakness, and was thankful as she finally stopped fighting him. Her flowery scent made his ears buzz as he allowed her hot breath to wash over his face.

She was strong and determined. Angry and not afraid to fight against an impossible opponent, no matter the danger. She was right. She was not a quitter.

It took another few seconds before she must have determined that there was no real danger present, because just as soon as her fear left, she was shuddering in a series of sobs racking her body. He relaxed his grip on her forearms and folded her into his chest and let her cry against him.

He felt like his hands were too big and clumsy for her delicate neck and shoulders as he brushed up and down her spine, squeezing the top vertebrae until she relaxed further, her shaking now subsiding.

He shielded her from the wind coming from the South, brushed her hair from her face and placed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you. I only want to help. Please do not be afraid. I’m here now. Nothing is going to harm you.”

Her arm wrapped around his waist, not reaching very far, as she snuggled in the safe space he’d created for her. Jason felt a twinge of regret that he’d been so harsh with her. Her head rested on his chest just below his chin. He ran his fingers through her hair, sifting, whispering things he’d heard as a child when he’d jump into bed at night with his mother after he had nightmares.

Whatever horror movie that had been playing in her head must have been something frightening. He knew what fear smelled like. He’d seen women panic and faint in the path of danger, unable to defend themselves or their loved ones. He’d seen it all too often, and all too often he’d not been able to save them either.

She leaned back, trying to see his face. “What language is that?”

Language?

He must have been chanting, or speaking the circular rhymes they’d sing as kids. It came as second nature, and he couldn’t even remember what he’d said.

“Hawaiian. Something my grandmother taught me.”

His right palm brushed tentatively against the side of her face, and then he released her all at once and stepped back. His arms fell to his sides.

“I’m sorry. It was a panic attack,” she mumbled.

“No, not exactly. The attack was when you passed out. You are scared of something, little one. That was pure, cold fear.” He sighed again, wanting to hold her once more, but resisted.

She wrapped the blanket around her.

“Are you in danger?” he asked, suddenly wishing he’d not been so forward.

“A little. But I’m far enough away from all that. Thank you, and I apologize how ridiculous I was.”

“No apology necessary. Fear does strange things to people sometimes. But you were brave. You fought well.”

“No I didn’t. I was pathetic.”

“You were difficult to stop. That speaks to your courage, not your skill.”

“Did I