Dark Angel's Ward (14 page)

I almost said
you're welcome
automatically, but the words seemed hollow and inappropriate. Instead, I replied, "It's what I was born to do."

"No," he whispered, but he didn't argue any further. Instead, he began to lick my throat again, with quick little darts of his tongue that sent shockwaves of sensation through my entire body.

I arched against him, gasping. "Stop that! It hurts."

"Does it?"

"Yes!"

"I apologize." His tone remained neutral despite the fact that he surely knew I was lying to us both. He laid still again, the shallow rhythm of his breathing moving us both

It felt so strange to have his body under mine. I couldn't recall a time in the past where I hadn't been the one pinned down, dominated. It seemed wrong somehow. Unstable. I braced my hands against his chest, my palms meeting firm muscle and warm, supple skin. His body felt as solid and strong as ever, and it grounded me. I relaxed against him in spite of myself, blowing out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

Apparently, that had been the cue he'd been waiting on. His lips touched me again, nuzzling at first. Then he nibbled at my neck, his open-mouthed kisses just deep enough to draw a sip of blood each time. There was a sort of playfulness to it, as if he were actually enjoying himself.

"Enjoying
you
," he corrected in a whisper. He slid his hands under my blouse, his strong fingers rubbing deep into the muscles of my lower back. My tension began to leak away almost immediately--I've always been a sucker for a good backrub.

I snuggled closer to him, discovering he'd remained quite aroused despite my rejection. But he made no move, no provocative gesture. He only shifted his hips as my weight pressed down on him.

"Sorry," I murmured, surprised by the husky tone in my voice. My throat had drawn tight, not from the pain of his bite, but from a flood of emotion. Finally, I felt the things I'd always wanted to feel in his arms, ever since I'd been a child smitten with his unearthly beauty. I felt safe. Protected. Cherished.

Loved.

Tears sprang to my eyes at the mere thought. I squeezed them shut, fighting hard to contain myself. Damn it all, I'd shed enough tears over him for one lifetime. I wasn't about to waste more over a case of temporary insanity. I could think of no other explanation for this feeling. One of us must have utterly lost our marbles, though whether it was he or I, I couldn't be sure.

"Relax, Jandra," he said, straining to reach my throat as I tensed up. I sank down again with a sigh, resting my cheek against his shoulder. He simply turned his head to follow the precious flow of blood.

I couldn't say how long we lay like that. It takes a while to drain the blood from a body. Unlike the typical movie monster, he needed only about half of what I had to give, but that was more than enough to render me drowsy and lightheaded. I hung somewhere between sleep and utter oblivion, listening as my breath grew slower, shallower--the soft sonata of impending death.

"Jandra. Open your eyes."
The words sounded inside my mind.
"Look at me."

I obeyed, craning my neck to look from this angle. He studied me askance, his features thrown into stark relief by the light and shadow as his bright eyes bored into mine. I groped for our mental link, searching for meaning in that gaze, but my fatigue made it difficult to grasp my own thoughts, let alone his.

After a moment he lay back on the pillows, cradling me against his chest. "How do you feel?" he murmured.

Like I had boulders dangling from my eyelids. And a dull knife stuck in my neck. Damn good thing he'd finally decided to be done--if he'd taken much more, I'd probably be shriveled up like a prune. I realized he still waited for an answer, and I forced out the word, "Tired."

"You can rest now." He rolled us over again, propping me against the headboard. He slipped one of the pillows out of its sham, wadding the fabric against my torn throat. "Here." He caught my wrist with his free hand and guided me to hold it in place.

"Ruined...my sheets," I groused weakly as he used another sham to wipe his face and chest clean.

"Inconsequential." Rather than the blank look I would have expected with that word, he smiled softly. He leaned in to kiss me on the cheek, touching my hand again as if to ensure I held enough pressure on the wound. Then he rose from the bed. "Wait a moment. I'll be back."

I nodded and closed my eyes, sagging against the pillows. Water splashed in the bathroom, a distant and hollow sound. Suddenly there were hands on my chest and stomach, opening the buttons of my blouse. Speech buzzed in my ears, and I fell forward, apparently of my own volition. Zeph's fingers trailed down my back as he unfastened my bra and slid down the zipper of my skirt.

I was vaguely aware of him lifting me, his warmth enfolding every inch of my bare body. I think I mumbled his name. His lips pressed my cheek again.

A shifting, and warmth of a different kind surrounded me. He'd lowered me into the bathtub. I wondered at the strange sensation of my hands bobbing limp on the surface of the water as I slipped into unconsciousness.

Fifteen

I woke to the feel of strong arms around me, and to the most beautiful music I had ever heard. I blinked my eyes open tentatively. Early morning sunlight streamed into the room, making them burn and water. Groaning, I huddled closer to Zeph and hid my face against his side.

I felt the shift in his posture as he realized I'd woken, but his voice never wavered. He'd turned on the CD player again and sang a wordless counterpoint to the music. The pure, golden notes seemed to dance between four octaves simultaneously. The beauty of his voice, unfettered by compulsion--it was almost enough to make me weep.

As the music ended, he lifted me so my head rested on his chest. Something brushed my lips. I cracked my eyes open just far enough to identify a straw. "Drink," he urged.

I did, savoring the water's coolness. "The light," I croaked after I'd swallowed.

"The light?" he repeated blankly.

Grunting, I took another sip to moisten my mouth. "Hurts."

"Oh. Of course." He shifted my weight in his arms again and, to my surprise, he lifted me as he stood. I hung cradled against his chest like a sleepy toddler.

"Put me down," I grumbled, struggling weakly.

"I'd rather keep you with me."

"I'm not a damn baby. Ah!" I buried my face in the curve of his shoulder as the glare through my closed lids became excruciating. When the window slid shut and the curtains closed with a swish, I sighed my relief. I didn't open my eyes again until we'd settled back down on the bed.

"I'm sorry I woke you so early." He hugged me close. "But we have much to do before this evening."

"It's okay, and you're right." Twisting in his lap, I picked up the cup of water from the nightstand. I discarded the straw and swallowed the remaining water in a few gulps.

"Slowly," Zeph reproved, frowning.

"To hell with that. I feel like I gargled the entire Gobi Desert."

"You
are
dehydrated," he agreed unnecessarily. "I didn't find many medical supplies on hand."

"Well, I didn't expect to have to give myself IV fluids ever again," I reminded him with a lift of my eyebrows. "Forget about it. I'll just have to be careful."

His eyes were intent on my discolored throat. "Have I done well by you?" he asked.

I shrugged, feeling the pull of an adhesive bandage against my skin. "Yeah, I guess I'm fine. We'll find out when I try to stand up, anyway."

"That's not what I meant."

"Okay, then, I'm waiting for the punch line."

He sighed, casting about as if frustrated. Finally, he asked, "Have I cared for you well?"

An interesting question. In the past, he'd always been at his most aloof just after a feeding. Sometimes I didn't so much as glimpse him for days afterward--days I spent weak as a baby, knowing he'd be hale and healthy from the sacrifice I'd made for him. Honestly, I'd resented that part of our relationship the most. At least when he'd slept with me I'd felt important.

Unable to put the sentiment into words, I just shrugged. "Except for opening the window, yeah."

"I didn't open the window. It must have already been open last night."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh. Right. Of course it was."

He looked puzzled by my tone. "Though I do apologize for forgetting your eyes would be sensitive this morning."

"Don't worry about it. It shouldn't last very long." I turned to set down the empty cup, but I dropped it instead, gasping in alarm.

"What's the matter?" Zeph asked.

I pointed mutely at the silver candlestick sitting between the CD player and the lamp. He raised an eyebrow. "That would seem to be unnecessary." His tone was hesitant. Clearly he had no idea why I was freaking out.

For that matter, did I, really? "Zeph...." I paused, considering, but there didn't seem to be a sensible way to phrase my question. "Was there...did it seem like, like someone else had been in here? You know, when you came in last night?"

"Not that I noticed." He cleared his throat, eyes sliding sideways. "But I was a bit preoccupied."

"Yeah. Thanks, by the way. For what you did." I stroked my fingers down the column of his throat. "I expected you to sound a lot more hoarse this morning."

He watched my hand as it drifted back to my lap. "I've done well by you, then?"

"Is
that
what you're asking? You mean, did you treat me like a human being instead of a Big Gulp?"

"I...suppose."

Suddenly restless, I squirmed free of his embrace and stood, finding myself steady enough to pace the length of the room. "Okay, fine, you did a good job. Good angel. I'll send your halo out to be polished." I rounded on him with a smirk, expecting him to look stricken.

But my sarcasm hadn't made a dent in his tranquility. "I've noticed something. When you're uncomfortable, your actions oppose your feelings." He cocked his head to one side. "Why is that?"

"You didn't just ask me that, did you?" When he merely continued to stare at me, I threw up my hands. "All right, first lesson in being an emotional creature, since you apparently are one now--you don't always want to feel the way you do. Doesn't mean you can stop it or change it."

"I see." He nodded thoughtfully.

"Anyway, as you said, we've got stuff to do." I picked up the candlestick gingerly between my thumb and forefinger and dropped it into the wastebasket by the bedside. "Please tell me you have a plan, because I don't, and my head feels like it's packed with wet cement."

He nodded, to my great relief. "I plan on asking one of my brethren for asylum. His home is just a few hours from here." He hesitated. "Do you still intend to come with me?"

"I told you I would, Zeph."

He nodded slowly. "I didn't feel it wise to take your answer for granted after last night."

"How unlike you." I tried for a smirk, but it fell a bit short, feeling more like a genuine smile on my lips. "So, who is it you're planning on hiding out with? I didn't know there were any other Watchers living in this area."

"He goes by the name of Belleryphan. His home is in Oklahoma City, about 250 miles to the east."

"Ryphan lives in OKC now? Huh. I wonder when he moved."

"You're acquainted with him?"

I nodded. "So are you, actually. But he lived in Florida last I knew."

"Damn." He frowned. "How long ago did we meet him?"

"Four or five years ago." I raised an eyebrow at his expression. "It's nothing to get upset about."

"But I need to know this. It troubles me that I can't remember."

Yes, it certainly did. His frustration was palpable. And the swearing! Absolutely unheard of. "It's not a big deal, Zeph."

"Is he our ally?" he asked, clearly distressed.

"Well, he's not the friendliest guy I've ever met, but I don't see him turning us in, either. He's unwarded--by choice, as far as I know--so he doesn't owe the Society that particular loyalty. And considering how much you guys love change, I'm willing to bet he didn't appreciate them uprooting him and shipping him cross-country." I shrugged. "We're probably as safe with him as we are with anybody."

He sighed, his shoulders slumping as if he'd deflated. "Our journey hasn't even begun yet, and already I would be lost without you."

"Jeez, don't worry about it. It's not like it's the first thing you've ever forgotten. Hell, he might not remember you anymore, either. Have you gotten in touch him yet?"

"No. I don't actually know how to contact him."

I snorted. "Great. I love flying blind."

He ignored my comment, adding, "I did phone Cara, however, to tell her not to expect you at work this evening."

"Thanks," I muttered, then did a double take. "Wait, you called Cara? When? For that matter, how?"

With a small smile, he produced a folded sheet of notebook paper from his back pocket. I took it, frowning as I saw two familiar cell numbers scrawled in spiky handwriting. "When did she give this to you?"

"Yesterday, as they were leaving."

"That little shit," I grumbled, wadding the paper and tossing it back in his lap. "So what did she have to say?"

"She said there were no problems, and that she would cover your...hindquarters. Then she informed me she was winking."

"Oh, good lord." I smacked a hand against my forehead, snickering helplessly. "All right. So now we're officially fugitives from the law, the Society, and the devils within. Groovy. Let's go pack."

Zeph stood and trailed after me as I left the room. "I'm not accustomed to traveling," he said. "I wasn't sure what we would need to bring."

"Don't worry about it. Actually, I'm glad you didn't do anything yet. Knowing Briggs, he's probably got goons watching the house. We don't want to tip them off by doing anything out of the ordinary."

"You think we're being observed?" The possibility surprised him--I could sense his consternation even through my bleariness.

Ah, naïveté. I shot him a well-duh look over my shoulder, saying, "Bet on it. This place was loaded with hidden cameras when I first moved in. Took me three months to get rid of them all."