A/N: I am so sorry for keeping you waiting. My life has been crazy these past few months. It's only four more weeks until the summer holidays, but there's still so much to do… *sigh* I don't know for sure when I'll be able to post the next chapter. Four more chapters are nearly done, but I haven't written a single word since the start of the semester… and I probably won't for a few more weeks. Real life tends to get in the way.

Thank you all for your lovely reviews! It makes me so happy when, even months after I last updated this story, I have one in my inbox. Thank you SO much!

A special thank you to my friend and beta AvaniHeath. I wouldn't know what to do without you. And I'm not just talking about writing!

Disclaimer: JAG is property of Donald P. Bellisario. I'm only borrowing.

17 Undisclosed desires

When he opened the trunk, she was still unconscious.

Sweeping the beam of his flashlight over her face, his jaw set in anger as the light fell on the bruise that was beginning to blossom on her cheek—an ugly bluish smudge that blemished her perfection. Of course he hadn't expected it to go down smoothly—he never did—but he hadn't counted on her being so difficult to subdue. The Predator had been thrilled. The Man, however, had been pissed, and anger was still simmering in his chest, making his blood boil.

He knew he'd have to get a handle on it if he wanted her to last as long as he needed her to, but for now he gave it free reign—the anger he felt coursing through his veins was directed at himself more than her, at the sloppiness with which he'd executed his plan.

You didn't exactly have time to be subtle, he reminded himself, as he had done many, many times on the drive up from Norfolk. Still, there was a reason he preferred to drug them, and this was it. He didn't like to damage them before he got them to his cabin.

And he always left their faces untouched.

He had no reason to destroy their beauty.

Switching the flashlight to his other hand, he brushed his thumb across the edge of her swollen chin. The Predator protested, impatient; it wasn't interested in her face, only her body. It was already on edge because cleaning up the mess in her quarters had taken longer than expected, and by the time he'd erased all signs of the struggle, she'd regained consciousness. He'd had to wait another twenty minutes for the spiked water he'd forced down her throat to take effect and knock her out.

Watching her fight the drugs, seeing the primal fear flashing in her brown eyes when it finally sunk in that she wouldn't get away had soothed the Predator a little and excited the Man, but neither could wait for what was to come. The Man simply understood that some things couldn't be rushed, that sometimes patience was necessary. Patience could, at times, even prolong the pleasure.

The Predator, who preferred instant gratification, rarely agreed.

It took a conscious effort to withdraw his hand, to not run his palm over her throat, to open her blouse. The memory of how her skin had felt, so warm and soft, made his body tighten in anticipation. He swallowed hard, his hands clenching into fists. In a little while, he promised himself as he sucked the crisp air into his lungs. It carried the familiar, treasured scents of the forest around him, wet earth and pine the most dominant. It eased his tension and cleared his mind, and he was able to return his attention to the plan.

Turning off the flashlight, he tossed it into the trunk beside her and, when his eyes had adjusted to the dark, slid his arms under her and gently lifted her up. Her head lolled to the side and came to rest on his chest, and a smile curved his lips at how peaceful she looked, as if she was merely asleep.

He wondered if she'd beg him to spare her.

They all did at some point, even the ones who put up a fight, who refused to let him see their fear, trying to hide it under a veneer of bravery. But there was only so much that mind and body could endure before they splintered. In the end, even Flo—strong, pretty, resistant Flo—had cried when she realised that he'd taken her home to die.

Looking at the woman in his arms, he hoped she wouldn't break for a very, very long time.