Ohoy. It's finally that time again. I'm filled with gratefulness for all the reviews. This story has been a blast to write and it's my favorite, totally, to write and even to read... I hope that doesn't sound like it sounds... :) There's not a lot left now and soon you old readers will finally see what's dramatically changed since the first version. The 'gift' I'm mentioning in the summary.

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Chapter 10. Consumed In All Our Doom We're The Song That's Out Of Tune, Still Beautiful No Matter What They Say (Interpreted Linda Perry)

"This is getting old," I mumbled.

I was only half awake. I hadn't even opened my eyes yet, and still I felt his presence. On my bed. Maybe I had sensed the gentle shift of air in the room when he'd entered, or the slight sinking of the mattress when he sat down on it? I don't know.

"What? No yelling, no whining, no flailing and running? And I was so looking forward to that, Leese." The low voice came out of the shadows, soft and almost tender.

I still didn't open my eyes. My world was perfect as it was; I didn't need to ruin a good sleep by watching the face of my nemesis again and start the nightmarishly roller coaster of hurting emotions again. I shrugged - which he probably couldn't see, and turned to the side, away from him - which he probably did see. "Go away. Shush. I really don't care if I disappoint you," I muttered and wished he'd just go and leave me alone.

Then it struck me. Oh, God! It isn't a dream!

I sat straight up and stared at him; my heart in my throat and my eyes wide open.

Even in the dusky room, I saw the smirk. "I wondered when you'd wake."

I scrambled away from him so fast that I fell off the bed on the other side, yelping as sore limbs hit the floor. This time he didn't follow. I didn't have anywhere to go anyway; to get to the door I'd have to go through him.

"Wh- why are you here?" I stuttered as I got to my feet, fumbling behind me until I found the switch to the small lamp by my bed. A soft yellowish light spread over my pillow and I exhaled when I could see him better.

He squinted as he let his eyes roam the length of my body. Suddenly, I felt very naked with my pajama shorts and sleeveless top, and gripped the sheet, yanking it off the bed to cover me. His eyes, they were still so blue, but they had a dark edge to them that made my stomach knot and nausea rise within.

"What have you done? Why are you here? What have you done?" I bellowed, fear gripping my heart and twisting it so tightly that I could barely breathe.

He regarded me for a moment while he chewed on his lip, waited a beat too long before answering. "Don't worry, Leese. Dad's safe," he then said, coolly.

Thank God! My eyes darted between him and the door; maybe I could… if I was fast?

I didn't think. All I know was that it scared me more than ever before to be alone in a room with Jackson. Something had changed between us. Something I couldn't fathom. I didn't know why he had come, and I didn't care.

Actually, I was sure I didn't want to know why he was here.

'What makes you think I got what I came for?'

I bolted, but couldn't get even near the door before Jackson was on me. He became a blur as he slammed into me and twisted us around so that we fell on the bed. He straddled my hips and held my squirming body down on the mattress, his strong hands gripping my sore wrists.

"Take it easy, calm down, I'm not here to fuckin' rape you," he panted, fighting to get control over me, control I refused to give him.

"Then get the hell out of my bedroom!" I yelled, bucking my hips to try to throw him off me. "You're scaring me! And can't you at least use the doorbell like a decent person? And what are you here for anyway? Get off me," I cried. Finally, I stilled, exhausted. My chest heaved with each breath and my head spun from his closeness and from the musky, male scent he exuded, the scent that felt like coming home.

He leaned closer, seemingly unaffected by my outbreak. Oh, God. I knew that look so well… he was up to something. I couldn't tear my eyes off of his as he spoke.

"You still have my jacket," he said, a hint of a smile grazing his lips. "It's a good jacket. I want it back."

"The police have it," I whispered. "It's evidence…"

Jackson smiled and leaned closer, the stubble on his cheek rasped pleasantly against my own as he put his lips to my ear. "Of course it is. I'm not really here for the jacket, Lisa."

Goosebumps erupted all over my skin and my mind reeled. I knew what came next.

"I'm here to make love to you," he stated in a voice so low I had to stop my panting to hear what he said.

My breath hitched and my stomach lurched. "Right." My voice trembled. I swallowed hard and inhaled shakily as I tried to compose myself. "Like you would even know the meaning of that," I countered viciously, swallowing again and again to get rid of the panicky lump in my throat.

He sat back a little. "Do you then?" he asked.

"Do I what?" I snarled and tried to yank my wrists out of his grip.

"Do you know the meaning of making love?"

It rendered me speechless. I gaped as I stared at him, his closeness making my heart jump in a, most likely, unhealthy manner. Of course I do. Did…Used to know… "It's nothing I care to share with you," I finally managed to rasp. "it's… it's just none of your business!"

"You're hurting my feelings, Leese. I thought we'd come further than that in our… twisted little relationship."

I stared at him. "What are you talking about? We don't have any relationship. Any-"

He leaned so close that his face was a blur and I swallowed compulsively. "Then why does a good girl like you so desperately want to screw a bad boy like me?"

I squirmed in his hold, struggling to find something, anything to say in response. "I don't!" I sputtered. "And if you force me, it's rape!"

He leaned closer until his lips touched mine. I was paralyzed with fascination over what was about to happen and couldn't turn my head away, instead I bent my neck and turned my face up to meet his. His mouth moved against mine as he spoke. "Call it whatever you want," he said, huskily, his breath sweet and so very… him. "But I doubt there'll be much force involved… unless it turns you on."

I gasped at the latter statement. Of course it didn't turn me on. And then a flash of him pressing against me in the elevator rippled through my mind. It sent a swarm of tingling butterflies through my belly, evoking a heavy feeling between my legs. I pressed my thighs together and squirmed underneath his weight.

I would have wanted to protest. To the treatment, and to the claim that anything he did turned me on, but when he pressed his lips firmer against mine and caught my lower lip between his, every rational thought I'd ever harbored shattered and left me. My lips responded to his touch and I had nothing to do with that. It wasn't a conscious choice. It wasn't sane.

I had forced myself to forget how good his kiss felt, but when his tongue touched mine, I was unable to hold back a moan, every tactile memory of him imprinting themselves all over again. I arched into him and felt him smile. A brief anger welled up inside me at his triumph over my will, but it was just as quickly quelled when he slid his arms under my back and pressed me hard up against his chest, our bodies molding against each other.

When he finally let my mouth go, he looked into my eyes with a glittering smile as he licked his lips.

"So… Lisa Reisert…" He bit his lower lip. "How do you want it? Soft and sweet?" He leaned closer, putting his mouth to my ear. "Or rough and forceful?"

My stomach clenched into a hard knot of panic at his last words, but at the same time I felt an insane furnace start inside me. It was like every nerve ending was electrical; waiting for him to take control of the vibrant life within that he had awakened.

"Neither," I managed to rasp, biting my lips hard together. "I want you to leave." Don'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleave!

At that he laughed. "Right," he said. "Rough it is, then."

I whimpered pathetically when he bit and licked a path down my throat. As he ripped my top in two and yanked it off me. He stopped right after he had dropped it to the floor, when my arms flew up to cover my chest.

"Lisa," he whispered softly and caressed a trail with his finger from my cheek down my throat, across my collar bone, stopping just when his hand met mine, right where the swell of my breast began. I arched to touch the electricity between the closeness of his hand and the heat radiating from my body. "You can pretend to the rest of the world, and to yourself, forever from tomorrow morning that you didn't like it and that you weren't in on it… But you don't have to play pretend tonight, with me. I know what you want… I know you want me." He leaned forward and planted the softest of kisses on my exposed skin where our hands met. "I know you need me." The sound of his voice rumbled in his chest and I felt his words vibrate through me rather than hear them.

He carefully pushed my hand downwards, away from my breast, then he lowered his head, licking a path down to my nipple, circling it, which betraying enough grew even harder from the treatment. He glanced coyly back up at me. "And I don't blame you… I'm a sexy bastard," he added with a grin that made my breath hitch. I should have gotten angry with him for being such a cocky asshole… but he was so terribly right. I did want him. I'd been attracted to him from the first moment when it had felt as if he had seen right through me, as if he had understood me. And I had been right, I just hadn't known why at the time.

Burying his face in my hair, he then whispered: "I know I need you." Rising on his arms, towering over me, he clasped my wrists in one hand and slowly pushed my arms down on the mattress above my head.

"Close your eyes," he said. "And trust me."

"Jackson," I croaked, unwilling to let myself go just yet. "I'm afraid."

He caressed my cheek with his free hand. "What are you afraid of, Lisa?" he whispered. I trembled, and I'm sure he felt it too, because he let go of my wrists and pulled me up, towards him, cradling me to his chest. "What are you afraid of, Leese? You know I'm not here to hurt you."

"I… I know. But you… you… I can't figure you out," I mumbled to his collarbone.

"Why do you even have to try? Is it important?" His fingers curled and stroked my hair at the back of my neck, sending shivers rippling through my chest.

Maybe it wasn't? Maybe I was just stalling the inevitable? What I knew had to happen. I leaned my cheek against his shoulder, allowing myself to rest in his warmth, in his scent, his unyielding frame giving me a sense of safety in spite of all that he'd done - to me and to others - because he felt like someone who could save me.

"You hurt me… how can I be sure-"

His hand slid down from my neck to the side of my breast, caressing the softness, his palm barely touching my nipple, making it ache for more.

"I won't hurt you, sweetheart. We've been through too much shit together. You were great in there, in that fucking elevator. I thought… we both thought…" He shook his head and spread his hands defensively in front of me. "I'm- I won't ever hurt you again."

His fingers touched my bruised neck with feather light strokes and I arched closer to his hand. "And I don't lie, Lisa. Ever."

"That's very unusual," I said.

The wide grin that lightened his face made my heart lurch. "I'm very unusual."

When he bent closer to catch my mouth with his, I whispered, "I'm afraid of you as a man."

"I know you are. I'll take good care of you." He kissed me, his soft lips catching mine, his tongue touching the tip of mine which hesitantly met with his. Then he slowly lowered me onto the bed and followed suit, his chest to mine, lips to lips.

My arms wanted to hold on to something, to him, and I raised them until my palms rested on his shoulders before they slid all the way around to his back, downwards to where his shirt met his pants and to where I felt his warm smooth skin. He exhaled against my mouth.

Abruptly, he let go of my lips and yanked his shirt over his head. "You're really not ready for rough this time around. I was just playing you. We're just-" He started to pull off my shorts with his free hand and I stiffened. "-gonna make love. I can be-" His hand followed my naked thigh back up, cradling my hip and then my buttocks as he heaved himself up on top of me. "-tender."

"Where's the 'male-driven logic' in that?" I asked, drowsily, relaxing into him, almost hypnotized by his breaths against mine, his hand that caressed every patch of my skin it could reach, and his soothing voice in my ear.

I heard him chuckle. "You don't forget anything, do you?

"Not complete humiliations, no." His warm hands on my hips, circling my thighs, nipping, pinching, gripping, and caressing, made me cling to him like a drowning woman to a life boat. "You've changed," I groaned into his shoulder.

His head rose until his eyes were level with mine. Then he smiled. Beautifully. "Must've spent too much time in your company… your 'female-driven emotions' must be contagious."

I couldn't help but smile. "Those were long hours… in the elevator," I rasped.

He leaned closer to my ear. "But they were spent in the best of company."

I snorted quietly. Ironic as it was, it still held some truth.

"Are you still closing your eyes?" he asked.

I nodded and closed them quickly.

Goosebumps erupted along my back as he ground his hips against me and I felt the obvious proof of his arousal.

"Good," he whispered sensuously.

I exhaled sharply and squirmed under him. I think he knew that it wasn't fear this time.

::

I felt worshipped.

I had known love. Before. This wasn't love.

I thought I had known passion.

I had been wrong.

He was tender, but still he held me down. He wanted me passive. He had let go of my wrists, but as soon as I tried to answer to any of his actions he pushed me back down on the bed.

He made me ready for him. With warm hands, deft fingers, with teeth, lips, and tongue, he made me cry with want and need.

When he stopped and removed the hand that was holding me down, I didn't dare to move. And I missed the heat from his touch.

"Open your eyes," he demanded, his voice so husky, so tainted with passion, that it sent shivers through me.

Slowly, I opened them, just a narrow crack, glancing at him. There was something vaguely demon-like over him, the way the light came from below, casting shadows in his face and making his cheekbones even more sharp, and the way his blue eyes flamed under his tousled hair.

"You're crying, Leese!" He suddenly sounded concerned.

I smiled. "I'm not sad."

Holding my gaze, he returned the smile as he raised his hand and wiped some of the wetness off my cheeks with his thumb. He stroked my hair and gave me a mischievous gaze. "I want you to look at me."

My breathing came in short gasps and I felt my whole being stretch towards him, but I stayed passive and opened my eyes completely.

I stared transfixed as he sat up, straddling my hips, unfastened his belt and removed it before placing it carefully next to me on the bed. Then he zipped down and pulled off his pants, one leg at a time, dropping the garment next to the bed. His boxers went the same way.

Slowly, I lowered my gaze before I met his eyes, bright and beautiful. This was really happening. Right now, right here.

And I wanted it.

Then, he lowered himself onto me again and kept his word.

::

We made love the whole night.

Passionate, tender, violent, frighteningly beautiful love.

It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before.

He devoured me, claimed me, with an enthralling intensity that left me breathless and gasping for more. Clasping my hands hard in his, he slowly explored every ridge and crevice nature had given me, from my fingertips to my ears, from my lips to my sex, from the back of my neck to my toes. Feather light kisses covered every bruise on my body; throat, arms, knees, back, hips, kissing away the pain and the memories of how they got there. He teased me until I was ready to give him anything he wanted if he'd just let me have my release.

He treated me like a Goddess.

He made me feel like I deserved it.

And that was the greatest achievement of them all.

::

He did like to be in control. And it aroused me more than I'd ever imagined. I could seek counseling and think about what it meant. Another day.

That night, though, he freed us both from the damned burning itch that had started a couple of days ago in a check-in line, in a Tex-Mex bar, the itch that had grown by the fighting, the banter, and the closeness during the long, cold night in the elevator.

That night just had to happen, and for once I just went along.

There could be so many explanations. Maybe it was sleep deprivation bordering a hallucinatory state, or a never-ending need for confirmation in a damaged soul? Perhaps it was the closeness that had been forced upon us in the elevator, making me feel like I'd known him forever, like I knew him better than I'd known anyone else? Or maybe a classic case of Stockholm syndrome?

I didn't care.

Sometimes two people just match.

And we did.

He made me forget. He made me whole, at least for a while. By taking control, he gave me control.

I'll never know how he did that, but I'll be forever grateful.

When the grey light of the dawn made the curtains cast shadows on the opposite wall, I lay sated on his arm, curled up in his warmth, inhaling his scent, memorizing it. We had pulled the sheet and blanket over us, covering our bodies from the cool air in my bedroom.

He kissed me on my head, making me all warm and fuzzy. "Merry Christmas, Lisa."

Oh, Jesus. It's Christmas Day. I have to… Dad… and gifts… and…

"Merry Christmas, Jackson," I whispered. The surrealism of what we'd just done was slowly starting to seep in between us, an invisible wall threatening to spread its chill and estrange us from each other. I didn't want to let reality in just yet, but once it had planted its seed, it refused to stay away.

You just spent the night with Jackson Rippner…

The meaning of it was impossible to grasp. I had pushed away a lot of important issues since his arrival late last night. What had he done before he came here yesterday? Where was he going? Did he know that I had warned Keefe again?

"What happens now?" I asked.

"What's there to happen?" Jackson purred hoarsely, a sound that made my heart skip a beat.

I felt a tug of insecurity. "I don't know…" I half-shrugged. "With us?" It wasn't what I had really meant to say, but it was the first thing that came to my mind.

"Why would anything happen with us? What do you mean? Are we dealing with emotions again?" He didn't sound particularly mean or sarcastic, just calm, his voice a little raspy from the long night of lovemaking and the total lack of sleep.

It hurt. Somewhere deep down something inside me broke. But I knew he was right. We'd both felt an insane attraction in spite of the circumstances… or perhaps, insanely enough, partly because of them. And he had been daring enough to do something about it. We should never even have had this night.

That was it. That was the reality of it.

I knew it.

It still hurt.

Then I forgot about it as he pulled me to him one last time, his caresses demanding, his hand on my throat, his teeth leaving marks on my hip, leaving me no room for protests.

No room for thoughts.

::

We had both finished dressing and stood in the hallway when the rattling sound of a key in my front door, pierced the silence. I gaped and stared at Jackson who looked just as surprised for one moment before the door swung open.

Dad!

My father looked at me and then at the man next to me. He stood like frozen.

"Lisa, I… I tried calling y… You didn't answer the phone and I…" I saw his eyes dart between me and Jackson and then his eyes widened as his hand slid inside one of his pockets. I whirled around in time to see Jackson produce a large knife out of his coat. My legs turned weak, and I twisted back to look at Dad.

"No-" I croaked, my hands darting up between us in a defensive gesture.

Stepping behind me, but still not touching me, Jackson said in a dangerously low voice, "Remove your hand from that gun, old man, and I'll leave your daughter unharmed.

My father's lips had turned white as he regarded Jackson warily. "What have you done to my girl?"

I wanted to sink through the floor. If they were going to start throwing insults at each other with me in the line of fire, then I'd just provided Jackson with material for a marathon long drabble.

"Dad!" I intervened. "He's- he's just leaving…"

He gave me a short glance, but didn't seem to hear me. His hand clenched around the gun that he had risen slightly. I could see a bit of blue-grey cold steel sticking out of his pocket. This is not happening! My heart pounded insanely hard and I heard a constant roar in my ears. I had never seen my father with a gun. I didn't even know he owned one.

"What have you done to Lisa?" he asked again and raised the gun.

I felt Jackson move behind me and was about to whirl around, but it was too late. The sharp edge lay threateningly cool against the skin on my throat, and his achingly familiar body was now pressed against my back.

"Don't," I whispered, and eyed my father and the gun as I gripped Jackson's forearm with my both hands, trying to ease the pressure of the knife. My heart dropped when I saw the despair in my dad's eyes and how his arms trembled. He was so afraid that I doubted he was reachable with any arguments.

"Drop the gun and Lisa'll be fine," Jackson barked harshly. His voice made the hair at the back of my neck stand straight up. He wasn't the lover any more but had slipped back into being the assassin, the terrorist, the 'manager'. It had changed within a matter of seconds.

I shuddered, suddenly nauseous. How could I have experienced such a beautiful night with this man? How could he be both so gentle and so cruel? How could he have such different sides? Then I realized that he hadn't been making any active threats to kill me. Part from the knife at your throat! He really just wanted to get out.

Alive.

We can work this out! This is just a misunderstanding.

In spite of his grip on me, I took the chance and turned to face him. He eased the knife so as not to cut me. I was just about to speak when I saw my dad like a blur to my left. Oh, God! I had given him a window of opportunity, and that was undoubtedly how he interpreted it.

A shot rang out, but I felt the dull hit in my chest first as I threw myself at my father, trying to stop him. Someone screamed and I saw blood. Jackson fell-

No!

-and got to his feet again, a growing bloodstain tainting the arm on his coat.

No. I…

Then my knees buckled and I dropped where I stood. I watched my dad being tossed to the side like a glove. A pale face stared for a moment down on mine. Piercing blue eyes, an expression in them I'd never forget, begging for forgiveness.

Then he was gone.

::

I barely felt anything. I was on the verge of unconsciousness when the ambulance drove off, a mask over my face, needles piercing my skin.

In the ER I heard them speak as they frantically worked around my body. Maybe they didn't know I was still awake at some level.

"She's the lady that prevented that Keefe murder on that hotel the other day."

"Too bad he died."

"But I thought she saved him?"

"Nah, it was on the late news yesterday… he was murdered."

He was gone.

I knew my life had been irrevocably changed.

I wish I had died.