Damn it. What had he given her?
Holding her tight, turning, he charged through the damaged window, boots clanking on the fire escape and scattering her potted plants. Drawing in a breath, he leaped over the railing and landed on the awning of the restaurant below.
She screamed as wind and rain beat her skin. Her elbow connected with his throat, and he yelped. Taking advantage, drawing deep, she shoved two fingers near his eyes.
He dropped her.
She bounced, scrambling across the awning almost in slow motion, trying to find purchase so as not to fall. The drug slowed her movements, and she tried to clear her head.
He turned and fell on his belly, holding on to the ripped material, swung his legs over, and then disappeared from sight. The sound of running footsteps echoed through the storm.
She slid across water and glass to peer over the side, two stories below. Nothing. He was gone.
She blinked water from her eyes as rain soaked her thin tank top. Her gun was inside, as was Kellach and the other gunman. Gingerly, trying not to be cut, she tried to crawl on the awning back toward the building before she passed out.
An oscillating blue ball of fire careened outside and dropped next to her. Fire licked her palm.
She screamed and tried to scramble away from the fire. The ball burned a hole in the awning and kept going right through. Shit. The whole thing would go up. She rolled to the other side, hoping she could grab hold and jump. She’d probably break something in the fall, but that was better than burning to death.
“Alexandra?” Kellach bellowed from the window.
She looked up in time to see him illuminated from behind as fire hit him. Flames cascaded out around him, his eyes widened, and then his body was propelled outside.
If he hit the awning, he’d keep going. She tried to swing her legs over the side and out of the way, but the drugs in her system slowed her down.
Kellach ducked in a summersault, landed next to her, and grabbed her up.
She cried out and shoved against him.
Two more spins in the air, and somehow, they landed safely on the pavement below. She blinked up through the rain at his rough face, cradled in arms harder than granite.
“W-what?” she stuttered.
He gazed at her face. “How badly are you hurt?”
“Dunno.” Her mind fuzzed. How were they standing on the street?
He strode over to her car and yanked open the door, shoving her to the passenger side. “Keys?”
“Upstairs.” She couldn’t catch a thought, or a breath. Liquid dropped into her eyes. Frowning, she wiped her forehead and looked at her hand. Blood. “I’m bleeding.”
He grasped her chin and turned her to face him. “Just hold on. You’ll be okay.”
Those were the last words she heard before darkness grabbed her, took her under, and covered her.
Kellach stood in the doorway, his gaze on the too-quiet woman on his massive bed. It wasn’t how he’d dreamed of her sharing a night with him. He’d administered to her cuts, washing each one clean and covering the two largest with a bandage. Her hand had been burned, and he’d placed an ointment on it while she remained out from a sedative.
He’d tasted the remaining drops after recovering the syringe, and it was just a normal sedative. Whoever had broken into her apartment had meant to subdue her and maybe take her.
Her heartbeat had remained steady, and her breathing solid. She’d be fine once she woke from the sedative.
She blinked and her eyes opened.
Finally.
Her entire body stilled, and she stopped breathing.
“Alexandra.” He kept his voice smooth and commanding. “You’re all right.”
She sat up. A couple blinks, and those stunning blue eyes focused on him. “Where the hell am I?”
“My flat.”
She looked down at the blue silk shirt he’d gently placed over her head. “You undressed me?”
“Your clothes were wet, and believe me, that shirt covers a lot more of you than I’d like.” He kept his stance relaxed and his voice nonthreatening, already sensing the emotions pouring from her. The tension he could handle, but the fear bothered him on a level he didn’t quite want to explore yet.
She glanced around carefully.
“I didn’t bring your gun.” He kept the smile from his face. “Although, after seeing you fight again, I’m not sure you need one.”
She reached up and fingered the butterfly bandage over her right eye. “You patched me up?”
“I did.”
“Why?” She focused on him again.
Why, indeed.