Jaxx sighed and tried not to panic. Tried not to allow her thoughts to show on her face. He definitely didn’t look like a doctor. He did not look like someone she could take down easily in hand-to-hand combat. He smiled then, amusement touching his eyes for just one moment. It made him look completely different. Warm. Even sexier. She had a feeling he was reading her thoughts and laughing at her. Her hand was moving restlessly beneath the covers, forever seeking the gun.
“You are in distress.” He made it a statement. His voice was beautiful. Smooth like velvet, alluring, almost seductive. He had a strange accent she couldn’t place and a way of turning his words that sounded very Old World.
Jaxon blinked rapidly in an attempt to cover her confusion, surprised by the direction her thoughts were taking. She never thought about sex. She had no idea why she was equating this stranger with eroticism. To her shock, she had to search for her voice. “I need my gun.” It was a dare of sorts, a test of his reaction.
Those black eyes studied her face intently. His scrutiny made her uncomfortable. Those eyes saw too much, and Jaxon had a great deal to hide. His face was expressionless, giving absolutely nothing away, and Jaxx was very good at reading people.
“Are you planning on shooting me?” He asked it with that same gentle voice, only this time it held a hint of amusement.
She was very tired. It was becoming a struggle to keep her eyelashes from drifting down. She noticed a peculiar phenomenon. Her heart had slowed to match the rhythm of his. Exactly. Their two hearts were beating simultaneously. She could hear them. His voice was familiar to her, yet he was a total stranger. No one could ever meet such a man and forget him. She could not possibly know him.
She moistened her lips. She was incredibly thirsty. “I need my gun.”
He moved to the dresser. Not walked. Glided. She could watch him move like that for all time. His body was like that of an animal, a wolf or a leopard, something catlike and powerful. Fluid. Totally silent. He flowed, yet when movement ceased, he was completely still again. He handed her her gun.
It felt familiar in her hand, an extension of herself. Almost at once some of her fear faded away. “What happened to me?” Automatically she tried to check the clip, but her arms felt like lead, and she couldn’t raise the gun enough to do the job.
He took the gun back, his fingers brushing her skin. The flood of warmth was so unexpected, she jerked away from him. He didn’t react but gently pried her fingers loose and showed her the full clip with a round in the chamber before returning the gun to her palm. “You were shot several times, Jaxon. You are still very ill.”
“This isn’t a hospital.” She was always suspicious; it was what kept her alive. But she wasn’t supposed to be alive anymore. “You’re in great danger here with me,” she tried to warn the man, but her words were too low, her voice fading.
“Sleep, honey. Just go back to sleep.” He said it softly, yet his velvet tone seeped into her body and mind, as powerful as any drug.
He touched her then, stroking her hair. His touch felt familiar and slightly possessive. He touched her as if he had a right to touch her. It was like a caress. Jaxon was confused. She knew him. He was a part of her. She knew him intimately, yet he was a total stranger. She sighed, unable to prevent her lashes from drifting down and giving in to the powerful demand that she sleep.
Lucian sat on the edge of the bed and simply watched her sleep. She was the most unexpected thing he had experienced in all his centuries of living. He had waited for this being nearly two thousand years, and she was not at all what he had envisioned. The women of his race were tall and elegant, dark-eyed, with an abundance of dark hair. They were creatures of power and skill. He was well aware that his species was on the edge of extinction and that their women were guarded as the treasures they were, but still, they were powerful, not fragile and vulnerable like this young woman.
He touched her pale skin. Sleeping, she looked almost like a pixie, a fairy out of the legends. She was so small and slight, she seemed all eyes. Beautiful eyes. The kind of eyes a man could drown in. Her hair was several shades of blond, thick and soft but short and shaggy, as if she carelessly took scissors to it whenever it got in her way. He had assumed she would have long hair, not this mop. He found himself constantly touching her hair. Soft, like strands of silk. It was untamed and went in whatever direction it chose, but he found himself partial to her wild hair.
She lived in fear. It was her world. It had been her world from the time she was a small child. Lucian had no idea he had such a protective streak in him. For so many centuries he had had no feelings. Now, in the presence of this human woman, he had far too many. Those who had tried to harm her had paid dearly for their crimes in the warehouse. Lucian had sent her into a deep sleep, slowing her heart and lungs while he carried her away from that place of death and destruction. He had saved her partner, too, implanting in the man’s mind the memory of an ambulance carrying her off. Lucian managed to save her, giving her his ancient, powerful blood. He had transformed himself into light and entered her battered body in the way of his people, to begin the healing from the inside out. Her wounds were great, her blood loss massive. Using his blood was the only way to save her life, but it was dangerous to both of them. Discovery of the existence of his species by any of her kind would be a death sentence for his people. His first priority was her protection, the second was to ensure the continuation of his race. His job had always been the protection of both species.
He had bought himself time by covering his tracks at the hospital where she would have been taken. He implanted memories of calling in Lifeflight, sending her to a trauma unit. The paperwork seemed to be lost, and the computers went down. No one had figured out exactly what happened.
Lucian found himself tangling his fingers in her hair once more. She didn’t even have a decent name. What kind of a name was Jaxon for a woman? He shook his head. He had been watching her for some time, figuring the best way to approach her. If she had been a woman of his race, he simply would have claimed her as his own, bound them together, and allowed nature to take its course. This woman was human and so fragile. He had touched her mind many times over the last few weeks while he had established his home. He found she had many secrets. Gabriel’s lifemate had told him he would find this woman somewhere in the world and in great need. Francesca had been right. Jaxon’s life had not been an easy one. She had had no childhood to speak of, only memories of struggle and death and violence. Jaxon believed she was responsible for keeping those around her safe. She had lived her entire young life that way. Taking responsibility for others. No one had ever really taken care of her. He intended to remedy that situation. He had a feeling she would have no idea how to respond to his interference.
Her first thought upon awakening had been the protection of others. Of him. That intrigued him. It warmed him that she had tried to warn him of the possible danger to him. She had known he was a predator, that he could be dangerous, yet it still mattered to her to protect him. She fascinated him. Something about her turned his heart over and made him want to smile at the mere sight of her. That was all it took. Looking at her, and he was happy. He had never experienced these emotions, and he took them out to examine them.
With the first sound of her voice, he had seen colors. Vivid, brilliant colors. Having lived in his black-and-white world for so many centuries as did the Carpathian males who had lost emotions, Lucian was almost blinded by the hues. Blues and reds, oranges and greens—every shade of color everywhere he looked. He rubbed strands of her blond hair between his thumb and forefinger, unknowingly tender. The feelings he was experiencing were intense.