"Lana, I'm gonna leave you here. He'll probably be pissed at me, so don't get comfortable," Dan said, waving her in.

Lana entered, in shock from the night. The suite was small and comfortable with a small living area, utility area with lockers, and a door leading to a bedroom with its own bathroom. She stood shaking for a moment. Woodenly, she peeled off her wet clothes and climbed into a hot shower. The water stung her skin, and she grimaced as her attacker's blood ran down the drain.

For once, she almost understood Brady's ability to kill without regret. If she had a laser gun, she just might have pulled the trigger. She didn't know how he could take the chance of hitting her, though! What kind of man risked the person he was trying to protect?

Overwhelmed, she closed her eyes, enjoying the heat. She turned off the shower and rifled through the room's contents. The dresser contained neatly folded boxers and T-shirts but nothing else. She pulled on a set and dropped into the bed, exhausted.

A while later, the sound of movement outside the bedroom door pulled her from her sleep. She roused herself and opened the door from the bedroom to the living area.

Brady had piled his weapons on the couch and stripped down to a pair of pants and nothing else. Her breath caught at the sight of his wide, muscular chest, and the pants that dropped dangerously low on his hips. Her blood quickened, and she felt too hot.

He pulled on a T-shirt, unaware she was in the doorway.

"Are you that good of a shot or were you lucky?" she asked. She wanted to look away from his perfect body but found she couldn't. Instead, she found herself recalling what almost happened.

"I'm that good." His declaration was unhesitant, like his response to killing people.

They were just normal events of his world, a world very unlike her own. Lana couldn't help thinking they were far too different. And that he'd saved her life again. And she wanted more than a kiss next time.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a softer tone. "He didn't hurt you?"

"If I had a gun, I might have almost thought of killing him," she admitted.

"Good thing you didn't have one," he said, amused. "I told you I'd protect you. We're in this together. No one threatens what's mine." He sat down to pull off his boots.

She said nothing, not sure what to think of his words. The idea of belonging to her Guardian was thrilling. The idea of belonging to a remorseless insurgent leader was terrifying. He'd said the same words the Guardian did. He said the words with the same assurance he said everything.




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