A/N: OK, this is where it gets slightly smutty. Be gentle. It's my first time. :-)

Disclaimer: All of the characters and their world belong to Karen Chance.

Chapter 2

I turned my head towards Pritkin and brushed his lips with mine. He flinched as if I'd burned him.

"No! I won't be able to stop!" I saw terror in his eyes. He jerked up and tried to leverage himself off my body using only his arms. He still couldn't move his legs.

I ignored him and pulled his face back down to mine. This time my kiss wasn't gentle. Fear, anger, yearning — I poured all the pent up feelings I had for him into that kiss. I'd almost lost him so many times in the little while I'd known him, there was no way I was going to lose him now. Not when I had the power to save him. I nibbled his lower lip until my tongue found its way into his mouth. With a groan, he took over the kiss, and I let him devour me. When we broke free for air, his eyes were almost completely black, except for the thinnest sliver of green around the edges.

His body tensed, and he lifted himself on his arms again. "We're not doing this," he finally managed to say through clenched teeth. He frantically looked around the room, anywhere but at me.

I leaned forward and planted small kisses across his chest until I came to one of his nipples. I gave a little lick, then played with the hardened nub with my teeth.

"No!" It was more a moan than a shout. He shot a palm forward and pushed me back against the bed. A tremor shook his body as he fought for control. When he was still, he stared at my face and slowly repeated, "We are… not… doing this." It would've been a more impressive statement if his face wasn't so pale. He was losing too much blood. I was running out of time.

"Okay." His mouth opened in surprise at my matter-of-fact agreement with him. "We are not. If you won't help, I'll just have to do it myself."

An incubus feeds by absorbing the life energy his partner projects when, well, when she's in the mood. Pritkin would be able to feel if I was aroused. I was betting that in his weakened state he wouldn't be able to resist taking the energy he needed to heal. I tried not to think about what would happen if he couldn't stop himself from taking too much.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. This was an emergency, not a date. And unlike my usual nightmares filled with plenty of bad guys and monsters, I'd been having dreams about Pritkin lately. Some very hot dreams. I'd just pretend I was dreaming right now. Opening my eyes, it was easy to appreciate those muscled shoulders and the iron-hard arms that were tensed with the effort to keep his weight off me.

"I have a confession to make," I whispered as I moved my hand to my throat and then slowly trailed my fingers down my neck. His eyes tracked the movement like a predator watches the path of its prey. "I like it when you touch me."

He actually groaned, and I had to hide a smile.

I played with the tip of my breast, tweaking a nipple until it jutted out in a hard peak. In my dreams, it was Pritkin who touched me like that. I might have said that last bit out loud because when I looked up at him, his eyes were completely black.

I shivered. The first faint stirrings of a power drain rippled along my skin. My plan was working.

"Cassie…" he rasped. "What are you doing?"

I was pretty sure that was obvious, so I didn't bother answering. Instead, I slid my hand down my stomach to the point where our bodies came together. Most of his weight was on my hip. There was just enough room for me to reach down between my thighs and touch myself. His breath hitched. I felt the warmth of his arousal against the back of my hand, and a wave of desire washed over me. The power flow surged from a trickle to a stream.

But I wanted more. I wanted to writhe beneath his naked body; I wanted his mouth where my fingers were. I might have cried that last part out loud, too, because the stream immediately became a torrent. Heat flared from his body, and I shuddered as waves of pleasure raked mine. He was healing, but the power drain was larger than last time and didn't seem to be stopping. My limbs grew heavy, and I realized I couldn't move. Fear quickly replaced passion.

And then an iron grip grabbed my wrist and wrenched my hand away from myself.

"No! Not again!" I looked into horrified eyes. With a cry, he rolled over and let go. Cold air rushed against my body where he'd been touching me. I trembled for a moment before curling up against his side, desperate for his missing warmth.

He stiffened. "Get away from me. You aren't safe."

"It's okay," I tried to reassure him. I wasn't afraid any more. It was Pritkin. He would never hurt me. I raised myself up on an elbow. His face was flushed instead of pale, and he was breathing heavily as he stared at the ceiling. I placed a hand on his chest, but before I could ask him how he was doing I found myself flying off the bed.

"Ow!" I landed on Pritkin's duffel bag instead of the concrete floor. The floor would have been softer.

"You're a damn fool," his rough voice floated down from the bed. A moment later my towel and a pillow landed on top of me.

"Hey! What's your problem?" I tried to stand up, but the room spun around me, and my stomach decided that standing was a very bad idea. I sank back down on the floor and leaned my head against the bed. Maybe I'd just sit here a moment longer. Today's emergency had left me feeling pretty drained.

"You. You are my problem if you don't get dressed."

"I don't have any clothes, remember? We kind of left in a hurry."

There was a sigh from the bed, then a muffled, "In my duffel."

I reached over and slowly unzipped the large canvas bag that was his portable arsenal. It would be so like Pritkin to have booby trapped it.

"It's not rigged."

I rolled my eyes. So now he was reading my mind.

Underneath enough guns and ammo to field a small army, I found a tightly wrapped bundle of clothes that contained a crumpled sweatshirt, a T-shirt, and a pair of sweatpants. I blinked in surprise - they weren't Pritkin-sized and they were pink! Except for his dead wife, I'd never even heard him mention another woman.

I managed to stand up and saw that his eyes were closed. He had a death grip on the bedspread, but he was breathing normally.

I might have yelled at him about something, if he hadn't rolled over right then. His legs were working, and it looked like the bleeding had stopped. My shoulders sagged as the tension left my chest. He really was going to be all right.

I turned back to the mystery pile of clothes. I didn't have other options so I pulled on the sweatpants and cinched the drawstring around my waist. They fit perfectly.

I shook out the T-shirt and laughed for the first time in days when I saw what was printed on it "I was in the right place, but it must have been the wrong time." It was a line from an old Dr. John song, and I loved it.

There was no question he had bought the clothes for me. I put on the shirt and except for a little tightness across the chest, it fit, too.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

I put a knee up on the bed, preparing to crawl in next to him. His head whipped around and I saw him take in my outfit.

"Don't even think about it." I froze at the steel in his voice. There was still a hint of darkness in his eyes as they lingered on my shirt. I didn't think it was taking him that long to read it. He finally threw an arm over his eyes and said, "I'll be ready to go in an hour. Try to get some rest. Over there."

I looked behind me at the small, battered couch that had been added to the room, almost as an afterthought, since the last time we were here. The couch blocked the lower portion of the stained glass window and took up most of the floor space. There were tears and a few cigarette burns, but it was surprisingly comfortable as I curled up on it.

I looked over at the man lying quietly on the bed. He was the most annoying, ill-tempered, ill-mannered, stubborn person I had ever met. But he had his moments of kindness that even now could take me by surprise. And as my eyes grew heavy and I drifted off, I knew I was safe.