Immortal Healer (4 page)

It was hard to understand her words through her tears and gasping garbled speech. “You’re … one … of … them.” And then more sobbing, terrified tears as she pulled, twisted, and pleaded.

“You may know
what
I am. It does not mean you know
who
I am. Mason is dead, Abigail. You’re safe now.” She suddenly slumped against him, gasping for breath, and as her knees gave out, he sank to the floor, settling her between his legs. He did not loosen his gentle but firm hold on her body. She might have given up the fight, but her heart was still pounding, and he didn’t trust that she wouldn’t start fighting again at any moment.

He could feel her chest heave as he held her. He’d not been so close to a woman in longer than he could recall, and if she would only relax, he could easily enjoy melting into her warmth.

“Tell me what you are.” Her voice cracked and gave out as she spoke. She’d strained her throat in her explosive reaction, and it left her sounding husky and vulnerable. It was also quite enticing to his already heightened arousal.

“I’m a vampire, Abigail, and I’ll gladly answer any questions you have, but you’re going to have to stay calm. I know you’re scared, but I need you under control if I let you go.” She nodded, and he relaxed his hold on her.

When he stood, she looked up to him. His own composure was a struggle. Her robe had nearly fallen off in the fight, and his eyes passed over her body before he could stop himself. Her skin was pale and looked like the perfect combination of cream and satin. She was too slim but not malnourished, just skinnier than she’d been the first time they’d met. Her breasts were on the small side, but they were round with just the right amount of natural and subtle dip. Her nipples were small and light pink, taut in her nervousness. From her position on the floor, her sex was hidden, saving him the torment of having to see what his cock was most interested in. He was not, however, saved from that view as she crawled from the floor, and he inhaled sharply at the sight of her small, pale sex lips. She was lightly haired, and he could tell she typically kept herself completely shaved, at least when it was convenient and possible to bathe on a regular basis. It hadn’t been the style the last time he’d touched a woman, and his fingers trembled suddenly in want to stroke the sensitive skin between her legs. This was definitely going to be a painful challenge.

He turned from her to the armchair and sat down to face her again. She quickly moved to the couch, pulling her robe tight around her body. His fangs ached, sending stabs of pain through his jaw as he met her eyes. She was just too fucking beautiful to disregard. She was having a hard time looking at him, and her lips parted as she tried to control her breathing.

“You may ask me any questions you’d like. I’ll answer them if I can.” And he settled in to be more honest with a human than he’d ever been in all his long existence.

*

She couldn’t seem to get her mouth to work. She simply sat on the couch staring. She could tell her eyes were wide, and breathing was a struggle. He was one of them. She’d almost allowed herself to believe he might be different—he might mean what he said about helping her. He’d not laid a hand on her, though she’d tempted him. He could have; he could still, and yet he was sitting now with as much calm composure as he had at the jail. She didn’t understand his game in the least, but he was one of them. Didn’t that alone make him a monster?

She cleared her throat and stumbled over her words, having to repeat herself a couple times before her voice cleared. “He’s dead? How?”

“We were there on that night to kill him. He’d taken one of our kind hostage, and he was torturing her to exact revenge on one of us for killing his brother. Running into you was merely coincidence, and I had intended to find you, see if you were okay.” He studied her while he spoke. His voice was even and calm.

“I knew his brother. He was as bad as Mason…” She cleared her throat again as the torturous, painful memories visualized in her mind. He must have seen it in her expression. His brow furrowed, and his features softened. She stared at the arm of his chair to avoid his eyes. “Do you expect me to talk about them? What happened there?” She still couldn’t look at him.

“Not today. Someday, yes.” When her eyes flashed to his, he watched her steadily. He wasn’t like them. His body was so … so quiet and still. No, not his body, but his aura. But she hated the word
aura
, and even that word wasn’t quite what she was trying to get at. He made her want to curl up in his lap, snuggle in close to his quietness, absorb his peace. And though he watched her impassively, his whole being felt like a strong and secure warmth that she needed.

She was fidgeting. She was nervous. Of course she was. She couldn’t stay. She knew nothing of this man, and she didn’t trust the faith she so desperately wanted to put in him. She had no reason to believe this man was safe, and it scared her that she wanted to believe it. It scared her more than if she could simply fear him. Fear made sense. This man did not.

“Your heart’s racing. The scent of your adrenaline is strong.” He watched her for several long moments before continuing. “Rape and torture are not synonymous with being a vampire, Abigail. You happened to meet the very worst of our kind, and frankly, they are no worse than the worst of your kind.” He watched her, but she was still too stunned to give much reaction. “How about we start with the structure of our hierarchy? Perhaps if you understood our world a little better.” She nodded. “The building we’re in houses the executives of the eastern U.S. region vampire council. There are five of us, and we manage the laws and conduct of our kind in the eastern third of the United States. Mason was taken out for a reason … or I should say more reason than the simple fact that the woman we rescued happens to be married to one of our councilmen.” A slight smirk passed his lips as he spoke. “I’ll introduce you to them when you’re ready.”

She sat in silence. She knew she was doing a piss poor job of being defensive, which she should at least be doing, but her mind was exhausted … and curious. She was curious about them. She couldn’t seem to shake her desire to curl up next to him, and as she stared at his chest, she imagined it.

His build was lean and strong. He was dressed in a slim cut contemporary suit, but he’d discarded the jacket since they’d arrived. His hands were clean, masculine, strong, and she hated to admit it, inviting. She wanted to know what his hands would feel like against her skin, holding her, caressing her gently. She wanted intimacy, craved it. The intimacy that would unwrite what happened … or at least reassure her that she was safe. Again, she was being pulled into that other world where she was allowed to be a woman, and it was okay to think about such things. Apparently nothing truly took away a woman’s desire to be close and cared for. Not even Mason.

But she didn’t know this man, and trusting him was foolish.

“Frankly, I’m surprised one of them hasn’t stopped by to see you already. I expected her to be bounding through the door by this point.” She was pulled out of her mind at the sound of his voice, and when she looked into his face, her cheeks burned. She’d been imagining a closeness that felt sexual, and here he was, sitting mere feet away from her, watching her so closely. He cocked his head to the side as she prayed the heat would subside.”

“What? Um … who?” She stumbled over her words.

“Ember. She was the one we were rescuing that night. But it’s not that night that holds her interest. It’s you. She’s a psychologist, and she’s very interested in your well-being.”

“Great, another shrink.” She muttered more out of nervousness than anything else. But it earned her a very small smile—a genuine one that made the heat creep back into her cheeks instantly.

“I’m assuming you’ve not seen a doctor for some time. How long has it been?”

“I don’t know. Four years maybe.”

“I’d like to examine you.”

“If you think you’re going to put me in stirrups…”

He chuckled quietly in response to her accusation. “No. If you’d like to see a gynecologist, I’ll gladly arrange it, but I’m referring to your general health. You’re too thin, you’ve not been adequately caring for or feeding yourself, and you haven’t received even basic medical care for far too long. I just want to ensure you’re healthy.”

“Could they have given me anything?” She wasn’t entirely sure how to ask the question, but it had worried her plenty.

“No. Vampires are the safest men in the world for you to have sex with in that regard—aside from the fact that fucking your food source can be a bit of a challenge.” He smiled again as she gasped. “I asked Ember and Brit to stock the kitchen for you in all their former favorite foods, and you really should eat. I’m not going to pretend to know what to do with any of it, so you’re going to have to figure out the cooking part on your own.”

She was starving, but she was also still having a hard time getting the gears in her brain to turn. She couldn’t stay here. She knew that. Especially now. He was one of them, and while she was no longer sure what that meant to her, she wasn’t one to stick around and wait until it was too late to find out she should have fled when she had the chance.

But she didn’t want to flee at all.

She couldn’t shake the desire to climb into this man’s lap and close her eyes tight to the world around her, feel his strength wrapped around her body. She wanted to be smothered by him and feel his weight on her, as though he were some shield against everything else that was so wrong with the world she lived in. It was more than odd. Those thoughts didn’t belong to this life, and yet she couldn’t get rid of them. It was him—something odd and unexpected.

But it didn’t matter. She had to run. It was how she survived now. And whatever odd moments of calm he might impart to her, it wasn’t real. None of it was real. He was a man, and he could destroy her in more ways than one. She wasn’t going to wait to see it come true, partly because she believed it might, partly because she didn’t
want
to believe it might. If she left, well, perhaps she could carry some romantic notion with her that there did exist somewhere in the world a man who wasn’t intent on hurting her. That would be a nice notion to cling to.

He watched her tinker around in the kitchen. He was right when he’d said it was stocked. All the best junk food money could buy. It would no doubt give her a stomach ache for days, but she was going to enjoy this while she could. She didn’t intend to be there when the sun came up, and she had no way of knowing when she’d find food next.

Boxed macaroni and cheese, fish sticks, instant mashed potatoes, pizza rolls, Doritos, Pringles, Cheetos, Pop-Tarts, and Coke. She stuffed her face, while he sat at the bar watching her curiously, sometimes glancing down to his phone or responding to a message of some sort. When she caught his eye, it always seemed to be when she had a ridiculously full mouth, and he smiled at her. She really did want to stay. But it wasn’t going to happen.

With her belly full and aching, she excused herself to go to bed. He said nothing and watched her. When she finally closed the door, and a measure of space was between them, she curled up on the bed for a while. It was comfortable, and all she wanted to do was drift away in warm delicious peace, but she forced herself to stay awake, alert. After what felt like hours of impossible silence, she grabbed her bag and crept out of the room. His apartment was dark and quiet. She tiptoed, hating that she was leaving but knowing she had to… Didn’t she?

Chapter 5

He watched her for a week. She panhandled during the days when the weather was comfortable and slept at a shelter almost every night. One particular night left her out on the streets when she missed the cutoff to get a bed at the shelter. She fell asleep on a park bench, and it didn’t take long for her first visitor to show up.

The man looked rather disturbing. He lurked around her body for many minutes as Quentin watched from the shadows nearby. It wasn’t a good thing Quentin had foregone hunting in exchange for watching her, and as the man continued to circle the bench, occasionally adjusting his crotch, Quentin’s fangs started throbbing. He saw blood. He saw himself tearing through this man’s neck and draining him. There was a low growl emanating from his throat that he had little control over.

When the man slid his hand down under the waist of his loose jeans to stroke himself, Quentin had to force himself to remain hidden. He didn’t want to risk being seen, and the bench Abigail was on was under a glaring park light. But when the man’s other hand reached out to touch her cheek, there was no stopping himself. The growl became ferocious, and he pounced. It took him a millisecond to close the space, flipping the man’s body over the bench to land behind it. Quentin hopped over the bench and pinned him to the ground.

“Please. I wasn’t going to do anything!” The man was pleading, but his words became garbled as Quentin gripped his fingers around the man’s neck and started to slowly squeeze tighter and tighter. The man’s eyes became panicked, and Quentin studied his reaction calmly. When Quentin let his lips fall open, and the man took in his ravenous fangs, his panic lost any limits it may have previously had. He started to kick, squirm, and fight to free himself.

He was no match for Quentin though. “I would love nothing more than to kill you, but I have more important things to think about at the moment. Forget me.”

Quentin leaped back from the man and quickly took his place at the end of the bench by Abigail’s feet. He ignored the man behind them until he rounded the bench, shaking his head in confusion. His eyes took in Abigail and Quentin sitting next to her. The man looked stupefied, and Quentin knew well enough he was.

“You have a good evening.” Quentin spoke the words as much to send the man off as to intimidate him, and the man stumbled away, rubbing his neck and shaking his head.