In Enemy Hands by Michelle Perry Page A

what was cold and ugly and empty.
    She broke off the thorns and tucked it behind her ear. The emotions she felt when she stared into those whiskey-colored eyes unnerved her. Her whole life, her relationships with men had been superficial. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, and that was okay. She’d had fun and she’d been in control, always the one who walked away before things got serious. She wasn’t sure she could do that with Dante.
    “I couldn’t sleep, either,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind. I saw you come out here and thought I’d join you.”
    His gravelly voice rolled over her like scotch over ice, causing heat to pool in her belly.
    “No,” she said. “I don’t mind.”
    Abruptly, she stood and turned her back to him, pretending to inspect the pink blooms of a nearby bush.
    “You’re doing it again,” he said.
    “What?” she asked, although she knew what he meant.
    “Talk to me. Tell me about yourself.”
    With a shrug, Nadia said, “There isn’t much to tell. I’m just a princess, and this is my cage.”
    She winced. Why on earth had she said that? She’d meant to say castle. Panic spiked through her when she sensed him stand.
    “Do you feel trapped?” he asked, walking toward her.
    She shut her eyes and forced a laugh. “Yeah, right now. Can we please change the subject?”
    “Why do I scare you?”
    “Don’t push me, Dante,” she said quietly.
    “It was only a question. I want to know.”
    He was at her back, so close she felt the heat of his body and his breath on the back of her head, but he didn’t attempt to touch her.
    “Why are you afraid of me?”
    Taking a deep breath, she faced him. It would be better for him to find out how crazy she was now than before they got in too deep.
    “Because I feel you.”
    He opened his mouth, then clamped it shut again.
    Nadia hugged herself, but she couldn’t stop the words that seemed to burst from her chest. “I do things … I’ve jumped out of an airplane, skied off the top of a mountain, bungee-jumped off a bridge. I do all these things, just for that moment, for those few seconds when nothing else matters and I can
feel
something. I’m cold inside, numb. I don’t feel much of anything, but when you touch me … I feel you.”
    Sudden, unthinkable tears stung her eyes, horrifying her.
    Nadia Branson did not act like a babbling idiot in front of some guy she’d just met and she most certainly did not cry. But she had, and she was.
    The shocked look that crossed his face shamed her, and she looked away.
    Silence fell over the garden. Even the crickets seemed to wait on his response.
    Dante touched her shoulder, his big fingers brushing against her bare shoulder. “Nadia, I understand what you’re saying,” he said.
    Was he making fun of her?
    Her eyes narrowed, and she pulled away. Dante grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him.
    “I … understand,” he repeated.
    Nadia searched his eyes and saw the truth in their brown depths.
    Oh God, he did understand. Somehow, that terrified her more than anything.
    Dante folded her into his arms and she buried her face against his bare chest. “What are we getting ourselves into?” he murmured into her hair.
    Nadia didn’t answer, because she didn’t know. How could she have just met him?
    “Would it make you feel better to know you scare me, too?” he asked, and a helpless laugh burst from her.
    “I bet I do,” she said. “Because I’m scaring myself right now. This is not me. I don’t talk like this. I don’t
cry
.”
    His arms tightened around her, and she clung to him. Slowly, in the safety of his arms, with his heart pounding in her ear, Nadia began to calm down. He held her for a long time. She thought he would have probably held her all night if she’d asked.
    She wanted to ask if he felt her, too, but she wasn’t feeling quite that brave. So, instead, she changed the subject.
    “Okay.” She pushed away from him with a smile. “There’s only so much of