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.