“Siena, sweetheart, just stop thinking. Let it go. Drake Donovan is here and our team has you completely surrounded. No one can get to you. Your job is just to heal.”

She moistened her lips. She remembered something else he’d done. She’d surfaced a couple of times to the feel of his finger rubbing something soothing on her dry lips. He’d leaned into her and brushed a kiss across her forehead. Gently. She couldn’t quite reconcile the two men. Elijah was rough and demanding. Bossy. Arrogant. The man who braided her hair and applied a lip balm was gentle and sweet. She had to have been dreaming, but if so, why was he lying on the bed with her holding her so gently, so careful of her injuries? Why was he pressing a soft kiss onto her nape?

The door opened. She stiffened, her heart accelerating. She was turned away from the door out of necessity and it was truly frightening not to know who had entered, but Elijah didn’t move.

“Relax, baby. It’s just Drake.”

The man came around the bed to lean down toward her. He didn’t make a sound. He had the hard, powerful look of the leopard she was coming to recognize, but his eyes were kind. Tender even. He smiled at her.

“I’m Drake Donovan.”

The moment she saw him, fresh tears started. She hadn’t cried so much since the time she’d been kidnapped. She covered her face with her hand. “Thank you for coming.” But what was he doing there? Who had called him? “I want . . .” She sniffed. “To hire . . .” She couldn’t stop the tears coursing down her cheeks so she gave up trying, accepting that she needed to cry. “You,” she managed to get out.

Elijah nuzzled her neck, his hands stroking her. His palm at her waist, his fingers splayed wide, feathering caresses and heat at her back, tracing along the path of each of the rake marks with the pads of his fingers as if that would erase the lacerations forever.

“You have to make him go away and stay away from me.”

“Who has to go away?” Drake asked.

“Elijah.” There. She’d done it. She’d sent him away, and she wouldn’t be touched or soothed or humiliated by him ever again. She wouldn’t be pregnant. She wouldn’t remember the worst I ever had every time she saw him or heard his voice. She wouldn’t remember being a part of murder.

Elijah didn’t so much as shift position. His hands didn’t pause, not even for a moment.

“He’s one of them. Like my grandfather.” Now, she’d even betrayed him. There would be no going back from there.

Elijah pressed his lips into the nape of her neck. His teeth scraped along her skin, and instead of scaring her, it felt erotic. That scared her.