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He would have kicked himself if it would have done any good, but he suspected it wouldn't. When it
came to Anna, he thought with what was in his pants, not his head.
Tonight she had needed rest, kindness. Protection. She had needed his help. She had been a virgin.
All he had wanted to do was strip her naked and take her down onto the icy tiles of the terrace. He
hadn't been that crude, but it had been a near thing.
He hadn't worn a condom.
Henever had unprotected sex. The condom had occurred to him, but he had instantly rejected the
thought of wearing one. His mind, his whole body, had been on fire, brought to a fever pitch of madness
by the dream. He had needed to know that she was feelinghim inside her. He wouldn't have been able to
tolerate even a thin latex barrier between them.
It had flashed through his mind that he wanted to impregnate her, and even that hadn't been enough to
stop him. When he had poured himself into Anna's body, the moment had held a primitive power that still
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shook through him.
The breeze freshened with the dawn, bringing with it the distant, mournful cry of gulls.
The morning hadn't changed a damn thing, he decided bleakly. Even though he knew he should have
protected Anna against pregnancy, he still felt a fierce satisfaction that he had probably already
impregnated her. If there had ever been a politically correct cell in his body, the wild heat of their
lovemaking had incinerated it.
He wanted Anna pregnant. He wanted her bound to him.
If she was pregnant, she would have to marry him.
Satisfaction filled him at the thought. The decision felt right. It wasn't as if they were strangers; they had
known each other for years. They'd been making love to each other for years. The ring on her finger was
just a damn detail.
He felt her presence behind him and half turned, one hand wrapped around the railing. He studied her
rumpled hair, pale skin, the shadows beneath her eyes. "Are you all right?"
"Yes."
The answer was unequivocal, and it startled him.
She walked toward him, once more dressed in his shirt. Her step was a little uneven, as if she was
tender from his lovemaking. Not a big surprise, when he had all but attacked her.
She hesitated, then took a last step and slid her arms around his waist, cuddling in against his chest. "I
love you."
Blade stiffened with surprise. His hands settled on her shoulders. He wanted to crush her to him, he
wanted to take her back to bed. "I shouldn't have touched you."
She tipped her head back, her expression changing from soft to guarded. "Why not?"
"Because my control was & questionable. Because you were exhausted and needed to sleep."
"I'm not made of porcelain. I didn't break."
His brows jerked together. Didn't she have any sense? "I could have hurt you."
She frowned and stepped back from him, dislodging his hold. "You didn't hurt me. Iliked what you did.
But that's not what we need to talk about." She hugged the shirt to her chest, and her expression
smoothed out to the remoteness he disliked so much. "You said you found me in Ambrose Park because
I called out to you. I need to know what you meant by that."
Blade propped himself against the railing and folded his arms across his chest. "I had a dream about a
woman running through mist and rain. She was being hunted. I knew she was hurt, that she had fallen.
She called out to me for help, and for the first time I had a clue I could use. One of the images that
flashed into my mind was the Gamezone sign. I looked it up in the telephone book and came searching
until I found you."
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His gaze narrowed on her face. Her features were so calm and still, she could have been moulded from
porcelain. "I've thought this through, and the only answer has to be that you have some kind of psychic
talent that somehow relates to a mental link with me. It's my guess that you broadcast and I pick it up.
However it works, I've been having visions, sharing in your dreams, since I was about sixteen. The first
bad one was when you were just a kid and were swept away in a river, on the point of drowning. I've
had several like that. A burning house, a fall down a cliff. You were hit by a car once." He paused.
"There was another accident with a car, but I don't know what happened the images stopped."
His head came up sharply. "The car going over the cliff. The accident that was supposed to have killed
you."
Anna rubbed her hands up her arms, as if the memory chilled her. "Henry came back later and finished
the job by pushing the car over the cliff and saying I must have been in it."
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