But tonight, there was a difference. It was subtle, a lessening of Steve’s detachment as he regarded her across the fire. “You look tired, Ginny. Your skin has that peachy gold color that I’ve always liked, though. It makes your eyes look even more green.”
Cradling a bowl of stew—it was best not to ask what kind of meat it was, and she much preferred not to know what he had caught in this dense wilderness—she regarded him with a solemn, unblinking gaze.
“I like to lie on the rock and feel the sun warm me. At times, it feels as if I cannot get warm enough, as if…as if I’m cold and empty inside.”
“Are you?” A black brow slanted upward. Firelight was reflected in the deep blue of his eyes, leaping. “Are you cold and empty inside, Ginny?”
“I—I don’t know anymore. It seems that every time I—we—try to salvage something of ourselves, we’re driven apart. Oh, Steve, I don’t know if I can take much more! I want to…to run away, and yet at the same time I want to hold on to you with all my strength.”
Pausing for breath, she waited when he lapsed into silence, regarding her with unreadable eyes, his gaze betraying nothing of what he was thinking. The fire popped and crackled, and the stew slowly cooled as she sat quietly, nerves on edge and heart pounding furiously, waiting for his response.
Finally he said, in the familiar monotone she heard most often since he had rescued her from Luna, “It’s late. We should get some sleep.”
Ginny’s hope dissolved as quickly as it had ignited, turning into a leaden acceptance. Irrelevantly, she thought suddenly of the time Steve had lost his memory, when he had looked through her as if he didn’t know her at all. Was that the way he felt about her now? As if she were a stranger?
A brisk wind sprang up, and they both crawled into the lean-to shelter Steve had built; huge leaves formed the top layer of the roof, and the windblown water made a rhythmic pattering melody. It was mesmerizing, a soothing lullaby.
In the distance, the high-pitched scream of a mountain lion pierced the night shadows. When she jerked, Steve put a hand on her shoulder.
“A mountain cat,” he muttered sleepily.
“Yes. I realize that now. It just…startled me.”
He moved beside her, and the warmth of his body and drowsy assurance brought a sudden surge of yearning that was so powerful it left her breathless, dispelling the sense of lassitude that had gripped her for so long. Her heart clutched painfully as she dredged up her barriers. No, it could hurt to be vulnerable again, to allow herself to feel.
But he rolled over, one hand reaching out to slide along the length of her arm, slowly, as if stroking a tame cat. Ginny stiffened, but before she could move, Steve bent swiftly, his mouth finding hers in the dark, dense shadows.
It was so familiar, so achingly familiar for him to kiss her. But these kisses were gentle, not the almost harsh kisses of her experience with him, and oddly unsettling.
Ginny clung to him tightly, her fingers spreading over his bare back, feeling the familiar play of muscles under his scarred skin, the heat of his body so close to her…
But when he touched her intimately, a shock of searing fear blotted out the passion she felt, and she was suddenly screaming, pushing him away, her entire body trembling from head to toe.
“Don’t! I can’t bear for you to touch me! Oh God, just don’t touch me!”
“Ginny—”
“No! Oh God, no!” It was a sob, a plea. Revulsion and misery clogged her throat and tears spilled from her eyes.
“It’s all right, Ginny,” he said in the same soft tone that she was growing to hate. “It’s all right.”
“No! It’s not all right! Don’t you see? I’m ruined! I can’t feel what I should feel. I don’t feel anything but fear, shame for what’s happened to me….” Her breath caught in a half sob of anguish. “And I feel that it was partly my fault, that I should have somehow been able to stop him, to get away from him.” Sitting up, she hugged her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth in the dense black night that hid her. “You’ll never know what it feels like to be degraded like that, to be forced to submit to things that no one should endure—”
“Ginny, I understand.”
“No, you don’t! How could you? How could you know what it’s like to feel so helpless, to know that you’ve done your best to escape and it’s still not good enough?”
“I know.” There was a peculiar note in his voice. “I know more than you think.”
Shivering, she shook her head, copper strands of hair sticking to the wet tear tracks on her face. “No, I don’t think you could…”
“Did you choose to be with Luna?”
“No! Oh, how can you even suggest it—”
“I’m not suggesting it, Ginny. I’m pointing out that you had no choice in the matter. Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I know how it is to feel powerless? I was chained in the dark like an animal, treated worse than an animal at times. I know what it feels like to be forced to the brink of madness.”
“That’s not the way it was—Oh God, it was worse than being chained…” She choked on a half sob, shuddering.
“No? Then tell me how it was, Ginny. If that’s not the way it was for you, explain it to me so I’ll understand.”
She pressed her face against arms that were folded over her drawn-up knees and rocked in silent misery. She tried to form the words, tried to put into coherent phrases how the nightmare had returned to haunt her, all the memories of those long-ago days as a soldadera returning so sharply, the degradation like a knife in her soul.
Panting, heartsick, Ginny lifted
