Her muscles twitched, and her eyelids fluttered like dragonfly wings. He watched as her body slowly returned to consciousness. The moment her eyes fully opened, he began speaking. “Everything is all right. You’re safe here.”
If he wanted to gain her trust, one of the tricks would be to offer information instead of withholding. Her gaze took longer than it should to shift and find him.
“My name is James.” Shouldn’t have given her his real name. Too late now. “You’re injured. I’m fairly certain you have a concussion. And I need to bandage the wound on your—”
“Where’s Lathan? Where am I? I need to go to him.” Her voice cracked and broke over Lathaniel’s name. She tried to get up, her effort too weak and feeble to be effectual. “Where is he? I can heal him. Make him better. Where is he?”
James didn’t meet her eyes—counted on his body language to send a message she would recognize. Her hand found his arm. He froze. Her skin was clammy. He imagined he could feel the intricacy of her lifeline melding into his flesh, marking him. No one ever willingly touched him. All his subjects shrank from him. But this—a touch freely given—was something he’d been missing his entire life.
He shooed the bizarre thought out of his mind and allowed his gaze to meet hers, but did not speak, just blinked and blinked, like the movement of his eyelids held back great emotion. The wait would make her feelings more intense. The more emotional he made her, the more vulnerable she would be to his influence. Finally, he looked down at the floor and shook his head once.
“No. No. No.” Giant tears welled in her eyes, then spilled over. “Where is he? I need to see him. I need to heal him. I need to…” Her words slurred, and her eyes lost their focus. She would be unconscious again in less than five seconds.
James stroked her damp cheek with the back of his finger. Goose bumps peaked across her skin at his touch. Her reaction could be a fear response. Many of his subjects had that reaction, but it was usually paired with a flinch, a recoil. Could it be a pleasurable sensation? No way to know until she was fully awake, and right now, she could either be deeply unconscious or riding just below the surface of consciousness.
“You’re hurt. I’m going to treat your wounds.” If she was semiconscious, she would hear him, understand his actions. If she was out, well, at worst he was talking to himself. He spread antibiotic salve over the bite on her breast. The rough ridges of skin were swollen and had to be painful. She needed stitches, but she wasn’t going to get them. He fought the urge to bend down and lick the raw wound. “I hope I’m not hurting you.”
He placed a large bandage on her breast and taped it in place. “All done. You’ll start feeling better soon.” He wrangled a button-down shirt onto her limp form and then covered her with a blanket.
“Lathan?” she whispered.
He hadn’t realized she was awake.
“Lathan? God, my head hurts. Lathan? Where’s Lathan?”
James held a bottle of water to her mouth. “Drink.”
“Don’t want any.” There was no petulance in her tone, just a thin hopelessness.
“You’re going to drink two swallows. I’m not letting you die of dehydration.”
Without further question, she drank the offered water.
“Lathan.” Her voice was full of knowing.
“I’m sorry. He’s…he’s…gone.” James breathed the last word for effect.
Anguish contorted her face. Sobs racked her body. Sorrow poured from her eyes.
He held her hand while she cried. It was too soon to offer any further comfort. Finally, the sobs ebbed to simple tears.
“Where am I?” she asked, closed her eyes, losing the fight to remain conscious.
“Safe. Where no one will hurt you,” he answered, not sure if she heard him.
She didn’t say anything else.
He sat next to her on the bed, caressing her wet cheeks with the back of his finger. It felt so strange to be touching her—skin to skin—when he’d spent so much of his life not daring to come into contact with anything that could ever be traced back to him.
The wireless in his ear pinged. He moved into the bathroom and shut the door so she couldn’t hear.
He had known this call would come, knew exactly how to handle it. He hit the receiver to pick up the call, but didn’t say a word. A breathy groan escaped his lips.
“Eric here. Major doings with Lathan Montgomery in Ohio. Leaving Quantico in forty-five minutes. Briefing on the way.”
James remained quiet.
“You hear me?”
Just like Eric not to even notice something was wrong.
“I won’t be attending. Stomach flu.” He forced weakness into his tone. Stomach flu was always a free pass. No one wanted someone vomiting all over the crime scene. Let alone their fear of him being contagious. “I’ll pass the message on.”
Click.
James spent the next few moments making the necessary arrangements to free his calendar. He wouldn’t go back to work until after the weekend. Until she was on the mend. Until he convinced her that she wanted to stay with him.
Chapter 15
Awareness returned to Evanee, but coherent thought refused to form. Her entire existence had degenerated into two elements: sensation and pain. She felt horizontal on a soft surface, felt the weight of blankets on her body, and yet her limbs quaked partially from cold, partially from pain. A thick, obtuse throbbing resonated from inside her head. Her chest burned with serrated agony. Heartbreak tormented her.
She floated in misery for eons until fragments of thought and memory finally collided, coalescing, forcing her to remember what she most wanted to forget.
Lathan was dead.
He was dead because of her. She’d brought Junior into his life. She’d relied on Lathan to protect her like he was ten feet tall and bulletproof.
Guilt pulled her too taut, threatening to tear her apart.