Immortal Healer (3 page)

The rational part of her mind didn’t believe that was true, but the irrational part simply didn’t give a shit anymore.

Chapter 4

When the officer released her and she walked through the door, she stopped and stared. She looked nervous for half a second before she straightened her back, took a deep breath, and walked toward him. When she neared, her heart was pounding. While outwardly she looked more angry than terrified, he knew it was fear. Fear was okay with him. It made sense. He suspected it was the driving force in her life at the moment, and while being a scrappy fighter had become her MO, it was hardly who she was.

“So, what now?” She carried a large rucksack over her shoulder, and he guessed it was all she owned in the world at this point.

“Do you have any other personal belongings we need to pick up anywhere?” He watched her closely, listening carefully for any change in her response.

“No.” Her heart fluttered for a moment. He suspected she was embarrassed, and when her eyes flitted away briefly before returning to his, it was all the confirmation he needed.

“Very well.” He turned on his heel and sauntered away. Being rude was not his intention in the least. He was actually quite heartbroken for her, but he wasn’t going to let her defenses get ahead of him. She’d learn when she was ready that she could trust him, but it wasn’t going to happen today. What could happen today if he wasn’t careful was a pissing contest he wasn’t interested in getting into. She was also going to have to learn he wouldn’t be sharing the lead with her, even if she felt safer there. He was far too used to being in control of his life to see her calling the shots.

She followed, to his relief. When he opened her door, she stalled again and looked at him curiously. He knew she was trying to size him up. He was asking her to get in a car with him, and while she’d agreed to go in order to get herself out of jail, she also knew this was dangerous. It wasn’t, of course, but she had no way to know that, and she was smart enough to understand she could easily end up in the same predicament she’d been in with Mason. As she stepped up beside him, he spoke quietly. “It’s a leap of faith. I understand you’re nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.” Her heart rate said she was, even if her words did not.

He smiled. It was a knowing, cool smile, not meant to reassure her, but rather to confirm he wasn’t fooled by her act in the least bit. The subtle smirk his smile turned into sealed the deal, and as her gaze shifted down, she ducked into the car. He rounded to the driver’s side door, climbed in next to her, and pulled into traffic. The drive was utterly silent, and she looked out the window. He assumed she’d rather study the passing city than deal with the stranger beside her, and he wasn’t surprised in the least by it.

He’d decided not to return the memory of their brief meeting in the corridor of Truman’s building until later. He had no intention of keeping it forever, but he didn’t want her making a scene until he was able to deal with it appropriately. He expected it to be a difficult thing for her to swallow when she realized where and when they’d met. While he wasn’t entirely sure how deep her understanding of exactly what they were was, Brit had also told him she’d made comments suggesting she knew more than the average person by a long shot, and that was a conversation he intended to have with her in private.

There was a time when Abigail would have been killed for knowing of their existence, regardless of whether she deserved it or not, but that wasn’t their practice now. While they protected their identity fiercely, he wasn’t going to see any harm come to her for things outside her control. Like most things that had happened to her over the past couple years, she simply didn’t deserve it.

The walk into the building and to his residence was as quiet as the drive. He had no intention of making nice with her yet, and once they finally entered his home, he walked directly to the bedroom with en suite bathroom she would be staying in. “Please make yourself at home. I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready to speak.”

“You didn’t say I’d be living with you. I assumed I’d at least have my own place.”

“Did you?” He was mocking her. “Your entire life fits in one small bag, and you assumed I was simply going to give you an apartment?” He studied her for a moment while she postured and tried to look incredulous, but she was out of her element, and her nerves were showing. “We’ll discuss everything in more detail once you’ve had a chance to settle in. I suggest you take a shower. You look like hell, and in case you’ve not noticed, you reek.” He waited for no further response before closing the door and leaving her alone.

He tried to relax while he waited, but it was difficult. Instead, he threw on an Alexi Murdoch album that his mind more often than not became lost in and moved to the French doors that opened onto his balcony and overlooked the overgrown courtyard behind the building. It was a warm early summer evening, and he preferred to have every window in his residence open this time of year.

The council building was old, as much of Boston was, but it had been impeccably renovated in a far more contemporary fashion than he preferred. His own residence was far different than most in the building. There were no other apartments on his floor. Rather, his clinic and office were attached to his home. Both were also accessible from the main corridor on the floor.

He practiced medicine less than he researched and collaborated with fellow doctors in his field. “Field” being the research of infectious and pathogenic disease, most specifically, vampirism. It was a long held belief by a number of other vampire researchers that vampirism itself could potentially be used to cure certain human ailments without fully infecting the patient. It was also a point of interest that curing vampirism itself may be possible as well, if the immune response to living blood entering the circulatory system could be suppressed. Both were significant areas of interest to Quentin and were how he spent the majority of his time.

But it wasn’t all he enjoyed in the world. Quentin loved to challenge himself in any way possible. He was determined to learn everything there was to know about medicine and then some. He had to set goals and challenges in order to avoid going insane, and pushing himself beyond his own limits was how he avoided the monotony of forever. Eternity was far easier for those who lived outwardly. It was something completely different for him. Quentin was an introvert. Not shy or fearful of people in the least, but he rarely felt the need to fill silence with chatter. He lived primarily in his mind, and the world was something he enjoyed observing with a scientist’s perception. Ember had helped him understand that facet of his personality a great deal since he’d met her, and he knew now it boiled down to an excessive need to control his world.

And it was this personality so few understood that was without doubt the catalyst for choosing a life of celibacy nearly twenty years ago. Not that he’d ever had a problem finding sex—that was the easy part—in fact, it was likely safer to say sex always found him. Finding someone who understood him, connected to him, and didn’t bore the hell out of him within the first five minutes was something entirely different. Cutting himself off from physical intimacy was part challenge, part experiment. He wanted to see if he could do it. But he also wanted to see what would happen to him if he did. When you had forever to fuck around, or stop fucking around for that matter, such a thing as losing sex for a few decades lost its significance.

But it was more difficult than he’d anticipated. He was perhaps a bit naïve to think he wouldn’t miss sex simply because he enjoyed his solitude. It was a basic premise to go on. Where others felt the need to congregate, he felt a strong pull to withdraw and contemplate. It was just who he was. But it didn’t translate to sex in the way he thought it might. He missed it more than he cared to admit, but he’d pushed himself further and further, one year to the next. He wasn’t sure when he’d give up the challenge, but it was now year nineteen, and he’d just taken on his biggest challenge yet, saddling himself with an exceptionally beautiful woman who happened to be off limits. Again, part challenge, part experiment.

It wasn’t a game to him though, nothing ever was; he’d never been a trivial man, and if he embarked on a challenge, it was always worth his time. He really did want to help her. He didn’t know if he could, but after finding her in the corridor, he’d not shaken the image of her after all these months. His intentions were noble, but there was no denying, it would be difficult. It might prove his greatest challenge yet … for more reasons than one. She was the type of beautiful that left most men unwilling and unwanting to see the real person inside of her. It was hard to look past her exterior and see there was more there, and he did not want to be one of those men. It was the last thing she needed.

He stared at the night sky above the old courtyard as his mind wandered, and the music floated out from his residence soothingly. The clouds were thick over the city, but the moon was large and bright, peaking through a small break in the coverage and illuminating the texture and fullness of the clouds. They looked like they might burst forth rain at any moment, and the distant rumble of thunder was calming to his somewhat innervated mind.

He heard her approach and the deep, slow inhalation of breath before she let it go in a calming sigh. He didn’t turn immediately but stayed on the balcony. He could smell the subtle scent of soap; she’d obviously heeded his advice of taking a shower, and when he finally turned and re-entered his residence, his heart lurched.

Standing in front of him, she looked just as she had seven months before. Her hair was long, silken, and cascading down her shoulders. She looked just as stunning, and more importantly, she was just as naked. Her robe had been tossed over the edge of his sofa, and she sauntered easily toward him, and while her body moved in a subtle seductive manner, he could hear her heart racing. At just that moment, the album moved to the next song “It’s Only Fear.” A haunting and terribly appropriate song for the woman in front of him.

“It’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” Her face was oddly unreadable. There was vulnerability but also a challenge to her expression. She was daring him to deny her, but also daring him to touch her. It seemed reckless to his perception, but then, the emotional aspect of what she was going through wasn’t within his grasp of understanding. He’d have to earmark this one to discuss with Ember later on.

“I told you it wasn’t. Put your robe back on.” His voice was terse and harsh as he willed his eyes to hold hers and not stray farther down her body where they so desperately wanted to go.

He walked toward her to pass by, refusing to let her rattle him, but as he neared, she stepped into his path, stopping him. He looked down. His body was responding, and he clenched his teeth to stifle the desire welling up within him. The sight of her naked figure left his starved cock hard and crazy with want. He’d not expected that move from her, and he was paying for it now.

Glaring at her face, he spoke through gritted teeth. “I said, put your robe on.” When her hand moved toward his cock—as she defied him—he reacted. His hand moved in a swift downward arc, catching her wrist before she could discover on her own what her nakedness was doing to him. “Don’t touch me unless I give you permission. I assure you, I’ll give you the same courtesy.” Then he turned from her, took his place in the armchair as she grabbed the robe and sat on the couch. She looked like a sullen child—angry that he’d bested her at her game.

“Are you gay?” By the taunting look on her face, she was trying to attack his masculinity, failing to realize how pointless a game that was with him.

“No.” He watched as she studied him.

“And you really don’t intend to sleep with me?” Her eyes narrowed as she spoke. She didn’t trust him in the least, and he understood. He couldn’t possibly fault her for it, but he was determined to move beyond it.

“I’ve already told you as much.”

“Then why am I here?” She suddenly looked lost, confused, as though it was all easier to rationalize and cope with if he would just play along and be the asshole she assumed he was.

“I told you; I just want to help you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I can’t say that surprises me. Why is it so easy for you to assume I’d rather fuck you than help you?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose it’s because you have a dick.”

“Yes, well, can’t do much about that now can I?” He glared at her a moment longer. “You and my dick have never met, so you’re hardly in a position to judge how much control it has over my actions.”

Her eyes flitted from his. He was being blatant … making her uncomfortable. When she met his eyes again it was with a margin of resolve he knew was forced. “Even if you don’t act like Mason or his men, the fact you know him doesn’t bode well for you in my book. But I don’t remember you from my time there, so…” She was lost in thought as her gaze drifted off. “But, I don’t remember a lot of things.” She shook her head as though to clear it of some confusion. “You said ‘see you again.’ Have we met before?”

He studied her for a moment. She was in no shape to deal with this truth right now, but it was time. “Abigail, what you’re about to understand is going to upset you. I need you to deal with it and move on. Please understand, I mean you no harm.” And then he looked at her, and before the wrinkle of confusion that hit her forehead could reach her mouth, he let go of her mind. He released the memory of himself and waited for the response.

She stared for a moment, blinking, and then in a panicked flurry, moaned in terror, and darted off the couch, trying to skirt past him. But she had little hope. He was fast, and in a matter of moments, he grabbed her around the waist, pinning her body to his as she fought. She was screaming, crying, begging him not to hurt her, and as he held her tight, he shushed her with his mouth to her ear. “I’m not going to hurt you.”