“Fine?” His eyebrows snap together. “In the past twenty-four hours, you’ve had two panic attacks and a nightmare. That’s not fine, Nora.”

I swallow and look down at my lap, where his hand is holding mine in a tight, possessive grip. I hate the fact that I can’t just brush this stuff off, the way Julian seems to. Sure, he still has some nightmares about Maria, but this ordeal with the terrorists appears to have hardly fazed him. By all rights, he should be the one freaking out, not me. I was barely touched, whereas he’d undergone days of torment.

I’m weak, and I hate it.

“Nora, baby, listen to me.”

I look up, drawn by the softer note in Julian’s voice, and find myself captured by his gaze.

“This is not your fault,” he says quietly. “Any of it. You’ve been through a lot, and you’re traumatized. You don’t need to pretend with me. If you start to panic, tell me, and I’ll help you through it. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” I whisper, strangely relieved by his words. I know it’s ironic that the man who brought all the darkness into my life is helping me cope with it, but it’s been that way from the beginning.

I’ve always found solace in my captor’s arms.

“Good. Remember that.” He leans over to kiss me, and I meet him halfway, cognizant of his injured ribs. His lips are unusually tender as they touch mine, and I close my eyes, my remaining anxiety fading as heated need warms my core. My hands find themselves on the back of his neck, and a moan vibrates low in my throat as his tongue invades my mouth, his taste familiar and darkly seductive at the same time.

He groans as I kiss him back, my tongue curling around his. His right arm wraps around my back, bringing me closer to him, and I feel the growing tension in his powerful body. His breathing speeds up, and his kiss turns hard, devouring, making my body throb in response.

“Bedroom. Now.” His words are more of a growl as he tears his mouth away and rises to his feet, dragging me up off my seat. Before I can say anything, he wraps his fingers around my wrist and marches me toward the back of the plane. I give mental thanks that Dr. Goldberg is sound asleep and Isabella went back to the front of the plane; nobody’s there to see Julian dragging me off to bed.

As we enter the small room, he kicks the door shut behind us and pulls me toward the bed. Even injured, he’s incredibly strong. His strength both arouses and intimidates me. Not because I’m afraid he’ll hurt me—I know he will, and I know I’ll enjoy it—but because I’ve seen what he can do.

I’ve seen him kill a man with nothing more than a leg of a chair.

The memory should disgust me, but somehow it’s exciting as well as scary. Then again, Julian is not the only one who’s taken a life this week.