The memories that came with his soft words almost made Luke look away. “There were times when I wished she’d chosen you,” he said evenly, concealing emotion. “But it’s not always a matter of choice with us. Sometimes it becomes”—he drew in a deep breath and let it out again—”a compulsion. And once the compulsion has been fulfilled, there is no turning back from it.”
He watched Collier’s expression change with the first dawning of comprehension. There was a part of him that wanted Collier to know, all of it—to know and accept as he’d done long ago, surrogate father to a proud and angry boy. But there was no rationality where Joey was concerned. Even Collier was a threat, with his mild, reasonable words and desire to help. There was no reason in this and nothing of mild humanity. Even Collier could not be trusted.
There was no hope of keeping it from the doctor completely, he was far from a fool and knew the ways of the loup-garou as no Outsider ever had. But Luke had no intention of making it easy for him. Before the doctor could probe further, Luke was on his feet and headed for the outside door; by the time Collier had opened his mouth, he had turned in the doorway. “Let it alone, Allan. For your sake, and ours. Do your job and heal her—then let it alone.” Even as Collier stood to protest, Luke forestalled him. “I owe you, Allan. For her life. I’ll never forget that debt. But don’t forget what I am. Don’t make me forget what I owe you.”
Collier’s reply was caught behind the door as Luke closed it. He stood for a moment, letting the solid wood take his weight, until he could think clearly again. Then he looked out across the expanse of snow that glittered in the morning sun. He needed to run, to free himself of human emotion. There would be time before he could see Joey again.
He paused only long enough to discard the hindrance of clothing and was already running as the change began.
The sight of Luke made Joey’s heart lurch awkwardly as he paused in the doorway. He was looking at her as if he had never seen her before—or as if he had never expected to see her again. The flood of memories, dreams, and visions that overwhelmed her in that moment demanded more attention than she could give them, with Luke there filling her sight—but the emotions focused into sudden clarity. Gazing into the shifting strangeness of his eyes, Joey lost the lines of division between them. There was receding fear, relief—was it hers, at her own lucidity after being so near death, or his? Was it her powerfully physical awareness of him that made her pulse race, or the echo of desire she saw in his eyes? And the other feelings, the ones she was half-afraid to name.
There was no more time for analysis, for in a move too swift for her to follow Luke was at her side, and she was in his arms. He said nothing, holding her so gently that she hardly felt her body being shifted so that he had neatly taken the place of her pillow. She sighed and closed her eyes. He was considerably harder than a pillow, but much nicer.
Luke’s warm breath bathed her face an instant before he kissed her, the pressure of his lips on her forehead and cheek as light as the touch of a butterfly’s wing. She felt the tension in his body, as if he were holding some immense power in check in an effort not to crush her, she almost laughed. With the anesthetic Dr Collier had given her, it would be a while before she would know if someone punched her in the ribs. And for that she was profoundly grateful.
The serene comfort of feeling well and safe came on in a rush, she felt tears gathering in her eyes. A soft caress brushed a single escaping drop from her cheek.
“Joey.”
His voice was achingly familiar but strange, catching oddly on her name. “You’re safe now, Joey. You won’t ever be hurt again.”