Warrior Reborn

by KH LeMoyne

  She bit back a laugh. “What about before Welson?”

  He wrapped his hand around his wine glass. “After I graduated from medical school, I spent several years in residency in a large hospital in Baltimore. I went into practice there, in internal medicine, with the father of one of my classmates.”

  So much time invested. “Why did you stop practicing medicine?”

  He tensed for a second, the lines around his mouth just visible in the candlelight, seeming to steel himself for an unpleasant outcome. She caught the flex of his hand around his glass from the corner of her eye. “It sucked the life out of me. Probably sounds selfish, but I spent all my waking hours dealing with patients. The ones who really needed my help were buried under so many layers of rules and regulations from insurance companies and liability that I couldn’t do anything for them. Patients cycled in and out in a huge stream. A lot of them didn’t have the wherewithal or desire to change their circumstances. When the Welson rep solicited me, I was ready for something different.

  “Making progress and making money hasn’t been an unpleasant experience.” Jason picked up his wine glass, took a sip, and braced himself for her backlash to his comments. He jerked when her hand covered his forearm. The calm sympathy reflected in her gaze took him by surprise.

  “I don’t think there’s anything selfish about frustration or being stuck without hope,” she said.

  Their dinner arrived and she pulled back her hand, but he waited several seconds, preparing himself. The minutes ticked by and still, he had no sense of her judgment or worse yet, any indication that she wanted to manipulate him back on the path of the straight and narrow.

  “Now you have to confess your past or maybe a great phobia.”

  Her mouth twitched before she took a bite of the Chicken Piccata. An immediate moan of bliss and she slapped her hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

  The laugh rolled out of him but he tried to staunch it with his napkin. A delicate shade of pink flushed up her neck and along her cheeks. “Obviously, you need to eat first.”

  Waving a hand in denial, she forked another bit. “No, but it is very good. You must not eat here too often or you would have to jog to work and back to stay fit.”

  “You’d think. I try to get out for some action, been a little too busy lately with the trial.”

  Her fork stopped halfway to her mouth. “Action?”

  “Soccer. Used to play rugby but don’t have the time anymore. I like fresh air and a good outlet for aggression.” He placed the clam and mussel shells from his meal in an empty bowl and gave her a look. “Have you ever been to a game of either?”

  She shook her head and looked at him as if he’d grown a third head. Perhaps she’d thought he’d been hatched at Welson. Or maybe she’d just led a sheltered life.

  “You’ll have to come see one. But you haven’t answered my question.”

  “I don’t have phobias. Fears maybe. I have fears like anybody.”

  Her expression had turned unexpectedly serious and secretive. She usually read like an open book, emotions always quick and clear in her eyes and the delicate lines of her face. He shook his head. “You are the most fearless person I know. What could possible make you afraid?”

  “I fear losing my family, my brother.”

  Hmm, guess she didn’t spend all of her life at the hospital. “You have family here, in town?”

  “Sometimes. I mean my brother comes to town. A lot.” She chased a bit of sauce around her plate with some chicken.

  “Sounds—intrusive.” And awkward, he thought.

  “It did sound ungracious. He’s just very protective and tends to keep an eye on me. I tried to be proactive. I got us both cell phones, so he would call me and not feel the need to pop in all the time.”

  Jason almost choked and reached for his water glass, only to sit back laughing again. She looked so earnest. The woman had no idea how bad she was with that phone. “This would be the same cell phone you’ve misplaced four times since I’ve known you. Is anyone able to reach you on that thing?”

  She frowned at him, opened her mouth to refute it, and gave in. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  “Gather it’s not working for him.”

  “Not so much.” With an eye roll, she changed the subject. “Do you have any family?”

  “No. Haven’t for a while.” He looked up and shrugged at her in the odd silence following his comment. A bad subject but one better addressed quickly and then closed. “It works for me. Both of my parents are dead. I didn’t have any brothers or sisters, to speak of.”

  “Sounds like you intend to be alone forever. Kind of a drastic plan, isn’t it?”

  Her smile implied levity, but he put down his fork and looked toward the other people in the restaurant. This impasse always came up. Usually not until he was ready to end a relationship, but he found he didn’t want to be less than honest with her. “I’m not the white picket fence, family kind of person. I know myself well enough that I could never pull it off.” A decision cemented long ago by nature and experience.

  “People always say self-awareness is a good thing.” Briet’s tone was light and even though he stared into her eyes, she gave no sign of backing down or camouflaging other feelings, except perhaps sadness. Sadness he could handle, manipulation not at all. When she tilted her head, he realized he’d been glaring at her and reached for his wine. “I’m not judging you.”

  “Guess it’s just a sore point. Ultimately relationships come down to that.”

  She licked her lower lip. He followed the progression of her tongue as she glanced around the room and then to him. “Perhaps we should take this one step at a time instead of racing to the finish?”

  Relief flooded through his system. It was as if she knew how to release the pressure valve on his mind and emotions at the same time. He smiled, more than grateful she was willing to rescue a relationship he wasn’t prepared to end, yet. “I’m remarkably good at a planned approach.”

  The topics changed to his hobbies, his car, his team. He changed it to hers; her gardening and conventions she’d attended. Both of them skirted any revealing conversation but the rest of the dinner went smoothly.

  Poppa insisted on dessert. Then, sated and at ease, they left the restaurant and found themselves on the path along the river.

  The night air had chilled and his shoulder brushing hers caught her shiver. Sliding his jacket over her shoulders, he let his arm linger. The warm heat of her body quickened his responses. Not unexpected. He’d found her attractive the first time he’d seen her. Her allure grew each time he was with her, and not just sexually.

  He wanted her. Wanted to hold her and walk with her and share silence with her, feelings new enough to be unsettling.

  They walked for several long minutes, passing evening runners, dog owners discretely scooping, and couples strolling hand in hand. In unspoken agreement, they stopped to watch the river. The water glistened with the flicker of lights from buildings on both sides like a live being, sentient and restrained. Even living here for years, he’d never taken the time to notice before.

  “I could walk you to your apartment from here.” He nodded across the river and further west. “Should only take us about five hours. Or we could head back to the monster and I can get you back fast and warm.”

  With a laugh, she turned to him as his hands slid to pull his jacket closer around her. Pulling her closer to him.

  “I doubt your car has quite the evil personality you credit her with.”

  His hands lingered at the jacket’s collar, lifting it around her neck. Her soft skin pulsed beneath his knuckles. Close. Not nearly close enough.

  “I like this Briet with no work.” He watched her lips twitch with humor.

  “You don’t really know me yet.”

  He leaned closer, almost touching his lips to hers and watched her eyes, gauging her response. “I’d like to. You’re very alluring.”

  “You make me sound like a siren.”


  “Exactly. You have this tempting hair.” He fluffed his fingers into the ends of her layers. “All feathery and soft. And your mouth.” He leaned closer but only enough for his breath to touch her lips and then he backed away. “That mouth is always about to lecture me. Smart and fearless, enticing. I bet it’s soft, too.”

  “Sirens were notorious for leading men to their doom.”

  Tempted, he leaned closer and inhaled. “You don’t smell like doom, you smell like…vanilla.”

  She closed the distance and pressed her lips to his. He kept a hand on the coat’s collar. The other, he flexed into her hair as his tongue slowly traced her lips.

  Yes, soft.

  Her moan against his mouth registered through every muscle in his body. His response, so strong—he struggled for gentleness, not allowing domination or force. Just a tender pressure as his lips and tongue became familiar with hers, exploring, coaxing.

  Feeling the increased tempo of her pulse beneath his fingers, he pulled back and slid his hand to hers, raising it to his lips. “I was wrong. You taste like the caramel syrup on flan. Delicate, sweet, intoxicating.” Each word he breathed across her lips.

  “Hungry again, Mr. Ballard?”

  “You have no idea, Dr. Hyden.” He stepped away but slid his arm around her waist and tucked her close to his side still holding her hand.

  “I should take you home now so we don’t risk missing any steps in the plan.” His fingers squeezed hers and his thumb stroked her knuckles.

  A siren for sure.

  CHAPTER 13

  Briet laid the slides on the center table of her lab. Everyone else would go up to the main lab and use the new comparison microscope. She was satisfied with the old model she’d purchased many years back. The compact black piece of equipment was small and functional. With her powers, she didn’t need the enhanced features of the hospital’s high tech equipment.

  It had been two days since her dinner with Jason. She’d seen him briefly at Sheri’s memorial service, but they hadn’t had a chance to do more than nod across the crowded room of doctors and colleagues.

  He would come find her today. A certainty. She might question other things about their relationship but Jason kept an eye on her nearly as well as Ansgar. No, more closely, for Jason always seemed to know where she was or maybe she was just predictable.

  Not today.

  Despite her promise to keep their work and personal relationships separate, there were some things that she couldn’t compartmentalize to off-hours. Jason needed guidance as the ability inside him evolved. To learn on his own would be an insurmountable, and possibly dangerous, task.

  Each Guardian power was unique, gifted to only one Guardian born per generation and ultimately shared with their mate. The children of the Sanctum had each wrestled with their powers individually, with their parents dead and all knowledge of older generations gone. Learning to adapt, to find the extent and depth of their power, to test and grow with their skills had been hard. But the Sanctum was a safe playground and they’d had each other for support during the process.

  Jason had only her.

  His power adapted from hers, not a random gift. Their tie as mates passed to him skills he couldn’t conceive and might not want. It was her job to not only teach him to understand his skills, but help him accept, if not embrace them.

  “I’m beginning to understand how your brother feels.”

  She turned around at the sound of Jason’s voice. He held up his cell phone, selected an option, and waited.

  Nothing. No tone responded from her purse.

  “It’s not like you don’t know where to find me.”

  One brow lifted with a quick shake of his head. “Well that’s a relief, as long as you’re always where you should be. Which is never.”

  She let out an exaggerated sigh and sat on one of the lab stools. “Well, you found me.”

  “Yes. Are you up for dinner?” He laid his coat on the counter, glanced at the slides, and moved to stand beside her.

  “Sure.” She removed a slide and placed a new one beneath the lens.

  “You know there are modern miracles of machinery in the lab upstairs. Low powered comparison microscopes, even new fangled blood analysis equipment.” His laugh vibrated against her skin.

  “I like keeping my skills tuned.”

  “Bet you like to do addition on a slide rule, too.”

  “Abacus. Definitely, the abacus.” She smiled and waved her hand. “Want to see?”

  Jason gave her a dubious look but moved in as she shifted aside, curious about what she was up to. Tuning skills didn’t seem likely and he hoped the answer was in the slide. He adjusted the resolution, expecting to see the standard view of cells, specifically blood cells.

  Instead, the bottom fell out again.

  Mimicking his experience with Annie Bremar, the world before his eyes opened up and swallowed him, figuratively. It felt the same. His stomach churned, a slight sweat broke out across his skin.

  His vision widened as the scope of the cells in the slide narrowed. The same disturbing view of a foreign, black thread surrounding the mitochondria appeared deep within the cell’s membrane. This image deepened, no longer parts of the cell, but infinitesimally smaller, resembling strands and fibers—except it wasn’t.

  Jason sat back, rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands, and looked at Briet. “Annie’s blood?”

  “No, Brian Paulsen’s. They’re all labeled.” She nodded to the other slides, neatly standing in protected cardboard rows in a small box.

  He looked from Briet to the box. What was she trying to do to him? No. There was no way she could know what he’d seen. He tried for composure and reached for another slide from the box, placing the one marked Brian Paulsen to the side of the microscope.

  Frowning, he read the name. Phin Murphy. “Dr. Makai’s patient?”

  “She lets me look at the samples once they’re cataloged. I think it amuses her that I want to do things the old fashioned way.”

  “No doubt.” Jason looked at the slide in his hand and placed it beneath the lens. It was just a sample. If he didn’t treat it like it was the Ebola virus, he would be fine.

  Again, his vision spiraled deep into the cell, diving at a nauseating speed.

  “Perhaps if you try to regulate your breathing while you look, it won’t bother you as much?”

  He lifted his gaze. How could she know?

  She gestured to his hands fisted on the counter.

  With a deep breath, he looked again through the eyepieces and counted mentally as he focused. Slow and steady, as if checking for a pulse, the dizzying journey slowed. That he could see what shouldn’t exist was one thing. That he could control it like a free-fall jump from a plane—faster and then slower, by regulating his concentration—okay, his breath—was intriguing. Scary, but intriguing.

  “What do you—”

  He looked up for her, but she was gone. Her purse and files were still on the counter so wherever Briet had disappeared to she was obviously coming back. Not because of the purse. Her personal items she treated like flotsam, but she never left her files behind.

  “I see our Dr. Hyden has once again permeated the well-constructed boundaries of our trial. Is she going to recommend leeches as well as antiquated equipment?”

  Dr. Sanyu’s voice stilled Jason over the microscope, uncertain for a second of what approach to take.

  He turned, covering some of the microscope from view as he quietly moved Phin Murphy’s slide from beneath the lens, palming it. “I gather she just likes to compare the old to the new. As far as I know, all of her patient samples are processed through the lab upstairs.”

  Sanyu moved closer to Jason in an almost obvious intent to check out his assumption of Briet’s latest infringement of protocol.

  “Rather nostalgic. Want a look?” Jason moved aside and placed Brian Paulsen’s slide beneath the lens.

  Sanyu adjusted the resolution, swore twice
, readjusted the resolution again, and then stood up unimpressed. “Seems like a waste of time.” Sanyu glanced at the name on the slide, then across the lab counter and finally shook his head in disgust.

  Jason nodded agreeably, crossing his arms across his chest, Phin’s slide still in his palm. “But we don’t pay for this, so no harm, no foul.”

  Sanyu’s expression looked conflicted and he didn’t bother with a response to the comment. “Are you heading back to the hospital?”

  “Yes. I’ve checked in on most of the doctors over here. I’ll head back with you.” Jason picked up his coat, the box of slides tucked discretely beneath, and dropped Phin’s slide into his pocket. The ramifications of one slide appearing in Briet’s lab Jason could cover. He suspected Sanyu wanted more ammunition. Jason wasn’t about the give him the opportunity.

  From Sanyu’s bland reaction, he had to assume the man hadn’t seen what Jason had under magnification.

  Good thing.

  While Jason had never actually seen DNA strands before, he’d read enough to recognize what he’d seen in both Brian’s and Phin’s slide. More disturbing, neither slide reflected normal DNA.

  Until he could figure out what he was seeing, what Briet’s role was, and why Sanyu was so determined to hang her out to dry, the slides would stay hidden with him.

  ***

  Jason linked his hands behind his head and stretched his arms back. No pops or cracks sounded from his joints and his muscles remained cramped from sitting over his laptop for the last—he glanced at the modern brass clock over his fireplace. Six hours.

  Jeez, no wonder he felt like a mushroom.

  He walked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and stared. If only looking would make something appear. Briet had bailed on dinner, but given the resurgence of Annie Bremar’s nightmares, it was understandable.

  Giving up on warm food, he grabbed an apple and looked out over the city through the floor to ceiling window in front of his computer table. The hospital was fifteen minutes by car, but the remote twinkle of the city’s lights gave him the illusion of further distance.