He breathed out heavily as they began to move around the floor.
“I want to see you in nothing but the damned bow,” he growled. “It’s driving me crazy.”
Dawn felt a surge of heat rise inside her at the sound of his voice, the scent of his need. It hadn’t changed; every time was just as intense, just as searing, as the one before it. As his arms tightened around her, moving her against him, Dawn pressed her head against his chest and tried to assure herself that everything would be fine. It was going to work out, she promised herself. They would find the assassin and Seth would be okay.
“You’re worrying too much.” He kissed the top of her head, the hand that pressed against her back holding her closer as they circled the dance floor. “Everything’s going to be fine, Dawn.”
“Of course it is.” She lifted her head and smiled, but inside she felt as though she were walking a tightrope.
“Come here. Let me hold you closer.” The deep murmur of his voice sent a shiver racing down her back. “You’re trembling, sweetheart. Are you cold?”
“Considering I’m barely wearing clothes?” She smiled at that. “I have a serious draft where there’s usually no draft, Seth.”
The heat intensified as a muttered groan left his throat. “You’re trying to kill me.”
The feel of his erection against her lower stomach, the scent of his need and the strength of his arms around her assured her Seth had little thought for anything but that draft and that bow beneath her dress.
“There’s a serious arising where there’s usually no arising in public too,” he growled, causing a hint of laughter to escape her.
She laughed with Seth. She could go years without laughing at Sanctuary. There had always seemed to be a veil between her and happiness. It always seemed to hover around her, but never touch her, until now.
Something inside her seemed freer, less contained, but she was terribly afraid that the loosening of emotion inside her was also the reason the memories were returning. Why the panic was building inside her.
She could still feel that amplified sense of being watched, being touched by evil. Her shoulders were tight with it, her skin crawled with it.
She looked out over the dance floor again, trying to make sense of it. They were far enough from the open doors that they couldn’t be seen—that couldn’t be it. No one appeared to be watching, except Jason Phelps. He looked as inebriated as ever, a smile on his face. He looked like a weasel. And she didn’t like weasels.
Seth could feel the tension slowly building in the woman he held, and it made him want to hold her tighter. Because he knew. He had known what was coming the first time he took her to his bed. She had held the memories back because she had never let go of that amazing control enough to give them a chance to slip free. There was no control in the passion they shared though. Not for him, and not for her.
It was like wildfire.
That, added to the stress of the mission she was involved in and the assassin no doubt still lying in wait, was too much for her.
He hadn’t just walked out of her life ten years before. He had consulted the best psychologists and psychiatrists in the world and discussed the situation. He’d needed to know what he was facing if he ignored Callan’s and Jonas’s request that he walk away from her. He had stayed away because those professionals had warned him that under the right circumstances, those memories would definitely return.
As he held her close, their bodies swaying to the music, the heat of arousal, tenderness and some undefined something that had existed since their first touch wrapped around them. He let his fingers press against her lower back, hoping to ease some of the tension. He pressed his lips to her shoulder and felt that little purr he loved so well.
He almost grinned as he thought of the smile Dawn had given Lillian Bartel. Whatever the other woman had said to her might not have set well with her, but she knew how to be a lady. Not that Seth didn’t intend to find out exactly what Lillian had said. The woman could be a bitch; everyone who knew her was aware of that.
Her husband, Craig, was a good man, enamored of his wife and accepting of her faults, but aware. He made apologies where they were needed and reined her in when he had to. She would learn, though, not to snipe at Dawn—he wouldn’t have it.
“This is nice,” she sighed, finally relaxing against him marginally as they seemed to exist in their own little world.
He was conscious of the other couples around them, many of them watching him. They were used to seeing him with Caroline. They had come to accept that Caroline would be around permanently. They were surprised, and in some cases shocked, to see him with the little bodyguard. And he didn’t give a damn. Hell, he had known things wouldn’t work out with him and Caroline. This only confirmed it publicly.
As he looked around, he did grin. Dash and Elizabeth were across the room, and Dash appeared to be surrounded by female fury.
Elizabeth was glaring at him, and Cassie looked mortified.
“I think we should go rescue Dash,” he murmured, turning her until she could see the small group across the room.
“Hmm, I can smell Dash’s anger from here.” She stepped back, taking his hand as they started off the dance floor.
“Hey, Dawn. It’s my turn to dance.” A hand gripped her arm from behind, tried to pull her from Seth, and something inside her snapped.
She turned back with a snarl, barely holding back her violent reaction as she jerked her arm from the grasp, her flesh feeling blistered, dirty.
“Whoa!” Jason Phelps fell back, a look of surprise on his face as Seth quickly pulled her back against his hard body.