He was serious. Helen sat there, waiting for the punch line, but it didn’t come. She looked from Drake to Logan and both of them wore deadly serious expressions. This wasn’t a joke. “Monsters?”
“Demons, if you prefer the term.”
“Yeah. Not so much,” she said, still trying to absorb what he was saying.
“These monsters killed Kevin and took something from him—something we must get back. That’s why we’re following them.”
“I thought they were following you.”
“Only when Zach started bleeding.”
“What?” she asked, frowning in confusion.
Drake’s wide jaw bunched up under the pressure of his clenched teeth. He looked at Logan like he was hoping to find an escape. “I’m really making a mess of this. She doesn’t need to know this part.”
“Yes, she does,” said Helen before Logan could answer for her. She turned Drake’s face back to her so she was sure she had his attention. “Why are the, um, monsters following you?”
He stared at her for a long second and she could feel his hesitation, see regret glowing in his golden brown eyes. “They followed us once Zach started bleeding because they like to . . . eat us.”
Oh God. That was too disgusting to even contemplate. This had to be some sort of sick joke. But no one was laughing. “You’re telling me that you are being chased by man-eating monsters and you brought them to my house?” How could they? Miss Mabel was a defenseless old woman who wouldn’t even be able to run away if she had to.
“They’re not man-eating,” said Drake in a tone that was supposed to be reassuring.
As if she could possibly be reassured by anything after that kind of news. “What?”
“They don’t eat humans.”
“But you just said—”
“I said they eat us. As in Thomas and Logan and Zach. And me.”
The line of logic he left for her to follow was a short one. “You’re not human?”
Drake shook his head slowly.
She had to get out of here. Had to get away from all this insanity. She’d left Miss Mabel out there alone with Thomas. Who wasn’t human.
Helen suffered through the first rush of fear and forced herself to remain calm because she knew it wouldn’t be the last. She had to stay calm. Miss Mabel needed her. She tried to pull her wrist away, jerking it hard, but Drake’s grip held.
“Don’t do this, Helen,” he said in a calm tone. “Don’t fight me again. I won’t hurt you.”
She didn’t stop to figure out whether or not he was telling the truth. Not while he held her captive. She felt herself panicking. Her breathing sped, then faltered. Her heart pumped hard and fast, one beat crammed on top of the next. Sweat broke out on her skin and her mind funneled down to one single goal. Escape. She’d freaked out enough times before to know what it felt like. Every time things got bad and it was vital for her to stay calm, she panicked. Every time the vision hit her, she panicked. Every time she saw so much as a candle flame, she panicked.
Now Drake was trying to prevent her escape and she didn’t care if she hurt him again. She needed to get away. Right now.
Chapter 4
“She’s still panicking,” said Logan.
Drake felt her fear. The queasy, oily emotion trickled through his skin where his fingers held tight to her flailing wrist. “No shit. Tell me something I don’t know, like what to do about it.”
Helen’s hazel eyes were wide, her pupils shrunken down to tiny dots. Her skin had gone pale and clammy and he could feel the wild beat of her blood pumping through her wrist.
Her fear made him sick. He’d finally found someone who made his pain go away and he terrified her. Not that he could blame her. She was human and had no experience with his world. Why did he ever think he could tell her what he did without terrifying her?
She wrenched her arm away, trying to break free, and Drake drove her down to the bed, pinning her with his body. She was going to hurt herself if she kept this up and Drake would not allow that to happen.
He let go of her wrist, but made sure that he still had contact with her bare skin. It wasn’t hard. In her summer shorts and tank top, there was a lot of bare skin available, all of it incredibly soft and warm. She felt so good beneath him. He wished like hell he’d gotten her there under different circumstances.
Helen tried to claw at his face, so he gathered her hands and pushed them between their bodies, holding them there. As soon as she realized she was trapped, she stopped fighting and went limp.
“She’s human—not capable of dealing with this, Drake. You’ve got to let me put her to sleep,” said Logan. He was right there on the bed with them, concern marring his too-pretty face.
Like hell Drake was going to let him muck about in her mind again. She was already suffering from the first time. “Back off. I’ll handle this.”
Helen made a frightened sound—half panting, half whimper, and completely heartbreaking. “Shhh,” he told her, leaning his mouth close to her ear. “You’re fine. I’m going to let go of you now. Just relax.”
She made no reaction—nothing to indicate that she’d heard him. She just stared chanting in a low breathless whisper, “Breathe. Just breathe.”
“That’s right, honey. Just breathe. You’re fine.” It was a lie. She was way past fine, but if the lie worked, he’d use it. He looked up at Logan. “You sure this easing away slowly thing is going to work?”
“No. I’m not.”
Great. Just what Drake wanted to hear. The Sanguinar—the most gifted healers among the Sentinel races, the guys who had all the answers when it came to fixing what ailed you—wasn’t sure. Shit.
Drake lowered his voice to a whisper and stroked the stray hairs back from Helen’s face. “You’re okay now. You’re safe.” Her braids were a complete mess and her skin was too pale, but she was still lovely and having her curvy body under his on a bed—even one he was sharing with a leech—was just about more than he could stand. He wished that things had started out differently between them, that he could have had a chance with her, even for a brief fling. He wasn’t prone to having relationships with humans because it was just not worth the worry that they’d get hurt, but for Helen, he would have made an exception. He would have made sure she didn’t get hurt.
Yeah, as if he could really pull that off.
Drake felt her calming down, just a little. He stroked the fine tendrils of hair that had escaped her braids back from her forehead. Her skin was clammy, but he didn’t care. She still felt better under his hand than any other woman he’d ever had.
Slowly, her breathing evened out and her chest shook with a silent sob. Not a single tear fell even though he could feel how terrified she was.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. Bright green shards glowed in her hazel eyes and despite the dimness of the room, her pupils were tiny. He could feel her pulling herself together, shoving away the panic and forcing herself to face reality. As far as he was concerned, it was about the bravest thing he’d seen in a long time.
“Better?” he asked her.
She gave a twitchy nod.
“All right,” he told her. “I’m going to move away now. Just relax, don’t fight me and this will all be over soon.”
“Please, Drake.” Her voice broke on a sob. “I can’t do this.”
“You don’t have to do anything. Just breathe.”
She closed her eyes and pulled in a deep breath. She’d heard him and it was all he could ask for.
Drake shifted his weight, rolling off her body so that he was lying next to her. She didn’t try to run away, which was a good sign. He slid his palm from her hand up her arm, over her shoulder, and back down. He could feel the subtle vibration of energy flowing into her through his skin. It was vaguely erotic, the way she took his power into her body. She might have fought his touch, but she didn’t resist this flow of energy between them. He could tell it made her feel good, made her warm, made her tingle. Oh yeah, definitely erotic.
Her eyes were still closed and he couldn’t help but run his fingers over her face. He closed his eyes and just felt the fine texture of her skin, the delicate structure of her bones, the gentle curve of her cheek. The skin on her eyelids intrigued him, but not nearly as much as her lips. They were smooth, damp from her tongue, and so full and warm he had to hold perfectly still for a moment until the urge to kiss her subsided.
Helen pulled in a breath and his eyes were drawn to the soft swell of her breasts above her tank top. Her clothing wasn’t revealing, but there was enough of her that she couldn’t be completely contained. Without permission, his fingers quested lower, over her jaw, down her throat, and drew small circles along her collarbone.
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides and her breathing sped. He felt a rush of desire flood the connection between them, though he couldn’t tell if it was his or hers or a combination of both. Whatever it was, Drake couldn’t resist one light touch—just a single delicate glide of one fingertip over the top swell of her breast. Power sparked between them, arching through his body into hers.
She sucked in a breath, her nipples tightened, and Drake felt himself harden in response. He hadn’t imagined that. She wanted this almost as much as he did.
Drake was ready to give her more than just a fingertip caress when he felt Logan’s hand on his shoulder reminding him where he was. And that they had an audience.
With a gusty sigh of frustration, Drake pushed away his plans of seduction and focused on the job at hand—getting the two of them apart rather than closer together. What a suck plan that was. Too bad it was necessary.
Drake steeled himself for the pain he knew was coming at any moment. He moved his touch to safer territory and traced a single finger back down her arm, along the baby-soft skin of her inner arm, over her palm until only the tip of his finger touched the tip of hers. That was all the contact there was between them and Drake could feel a current flowing through that single point. He could feel every ridge of her fingerprint where they rasped against his. Heat spread out from that point until he was sure that a spark would ignite.
Helen blinked several times and looked up at him, then to the point where their fingertips touched—where the invisible sparks of energy were sinking into her. “What is that?” she asked him.
“I’m not sure.” What he was sure of was he didn’t want to pull away. That crushing avalanche of pain was waiting for him.
He took a deep breath, held it, and separated that last point of contact. The pressure came back in a giant wave, filling him until he was sure his skin would split open. It wasn’t as bad as it was before, but it was a long way from good.
Drake gritted his teeth and a pained growl rumbled out of his chest. He gripped the bedspread in both fists and tried not to fight the pain, tried to embrace it. Accept it.
“Don’t fight it,” he heard Logan say from somewhere beyond the pain. “You can do this.”
