Spirit Bound by Christine Feehan

sympathetically. “I’ve got aspirin in the medicine cabinet.”
    She’d been watching him just as closely as he’d been observing her.
    “I think I’ll call it a night if you don’t mind. Too much traveling and not enough sleep.” It would give him another excuse to see her again after the tractor ride.
    “Of course I don’t mind.” Judith was as agreeable as he knew she’d be. He was a master manipulator, trained in the best schools, every lesson a life or death one. He had survived and someone like Judith had no chance against him. He tasted bitterness in his mouth and kept his eyes averted as she locked up the safe.

4
     
    THE moment Stefan stepped outside the gallery into the coolness of the night, he knew he was in the biggest trouble of his life. Maybe in for the biggest fight for his life. It wasn’t the sniper who had him in the crosshairs, or the itch on the back of his neck that told him the assassin was definitely in the small village of Sea Haven. He was an operative, trained practically from birth to use people, surroundings, anything and everything as tools—yet instinctively, without thought, he put himself between Judith Henderson and a sniper’s bullet, instead of using her body to shield his.
    Everything in him froze. What the hell had he just done? What was wrong with him? His actions didn’t make sense. He stood, completely exposed, his body blanketing hers, the scent of her enveloping him. The wind tugged at her hair and strands blew back at him to slide temptingly over his skin. He was astounded at his actions, shocked, horrified even, but his feet wouldn’t move. One shift and he would be on the far side, placing her body between his and the water tower where he was certain Petr Ivanov lay up there with a rifle and scope. Petr was there—Stefan felt him. Felt the slick wash of menace that always alerted him, one of many psychic gifts. Still, he didn’t move. Where the hell was his ingrained sense of self-preservation? Years of survival training? All his expertise?
    Warning bells went off like miniature explosions in his mind. His left palm itched so badly he rubbed it along his thigh. He remained where he was, as if his feet had grown roots. His heart pounded and he tasted passion in his mouth, a fruit he’d never known but recognized instantly. Judith. She filled up all the emptiness in him. Somehow in the small space of time he’d spent with her, she’d poured herself into him and brought him something he never imagined: hope. She represented life. Living.
    He was aware of people moving up the walkway to their right, from the direction of the tower. He might be able to use the small crowd as a shield, work his way around to get behind Ivanov. If he could, he would track Ivanov back to his lair and kill him. The disposal of his body would be easy enough and that would give him time to find his brother without fear of exposing him to an exterminator.
    Right now, the most imperative thing in his world was to protect Judith. He kept his body between the sniper and Judith. His mind demanded to know what the hell he was doing, but his body remained firmly in place.
    He doubted if Ivanov would take the shot even if he had it. It was too soon. The assassin wanted Lev. His brother had disappeared here, presumed dead, and Petr Ivanov wasn’t buying it. His plan was to kill both Prakenskii brothers, not just Stefan. So he wouldn’t shoot, but just in case, Stefan’s sense of self-preservation should have forced him to move. It was impossible to though, and the terrible itch on the back of his neck grew.
    Damn the woman. What in the hell was taking so long? “Do you need help?” he offered politely, staying in the role of Thomas Vincent.
    “The lock seems to be stuck.”
    Judith glanced over her shoulder at him, and his heart nearly stopped. There was something incredibly alluring about her face with that fall of silky hair across it. Her gaze drifted over him and for a moment time