He stepped out into the hallway, turning in a full circle. There was absolutely nothing to stop him leaving. He eyed the door at the end of the hall.
He could just up and leave. Step through that door and escape.
* * *
Melissa stirred. Her eyelids flickered. Something fluffy made her nose itchy, and she put her hand up to rub it, her eyes opening. Pale blue wool filled her vision, and she frowned. She was covered in the fringed blanket she normally draped across the back of her sofa, and it was the strips of heavy yarn that teased her face. She lowered the blanket to her waist and straightened, frowning as a cushion behind her shifted and fell into her lap. She yawned and stretched. God, she’d needed that sleep. She felt so...refreshed. Then she remembered how she’d fallen asleep. Her muscles stiffened. That rat bastard. She glanced about her.
Everything around her was cast in a golden hue. Candles sat on every surface. Many, many candles. It would almost be romantic if it wasn’t for the bloodied rags she spied on the floor. Hunter stood with his back to her, his feet planted shoulder-width apart, his back all smooth and golden. He held his hands out over Lance’s unconscious body, his arms and shoulders roped with muscle, and her mouth dropped.
Tendrils of light glowed and snaked from Hunter’s palms to the bullet hole in Lance’s chest, and she could see the radiance moving beneath his skin, as though glowworms pulsed inside his body.
She rose from the chair, the blanket falling to her feet as she stepped toward the bed. Lance’s body was covered in perspiration, and he’d been stripped, cleaned and covered with a sheet. His complexion was still gray, yet his chest and limbs looked flushed. Every now and then he would groan softly, and Hunter would draw his hands away, the threads of light dimming, before continuing. She glanced at Hunter.
His eyes were closed, his face pale and perspiring, and occasionally his brow would dip, and the stream of light would pulse beneath his palms. Melissa glanced at her watch, and her eyes widened. Four hours had passed since she’d last glanced at it. It was well past two in the morning.
Hunter was silent, his attention focused inward, and Melissa didn’t want to distract him. She folded her arms and moved to stand at the foot of the bed.
She did it to watch over her friend, not to get an eyeful of Hunter’s bare torso.
She focused on Lance, but every now and then her gaze would return to the light warrior, to his hands...his chest...his lips. She found herself staring at his mouth.
He’d kissed her.
She’d kissed him back.
It had felt incredible. They’d barely touched, really, but he’d managed to stir something in her, hot passion and a soft vulnerability she didn’t know quite what to do with. Bury it. Showing this man a weakness like that would only lead to pain. Maybe even death.
Her lips tightened. He’d done it again, damn it.
She couldn’t believe she’d allowed him to get close to her again. She’d been totally sucked into that kiss, and he’d just been using her to drain her energy and fill his own stores. She lifted her chin. Well, she knew what the jerk was capable of. She would make damn sure he never used her again, that he never fooled her again.
Lance flinched in his unconscious state, emitting a low moan, and Hunter rolled his lips in, his brows drawing into a deep V. He curled his palms, his fingers dancing as though playing an instrument, and Melissa was mesmerized by the grace and fluidity of his movements.
Lance’s breathing sped up, and Melissa bit her lip. She had no idea what was going on, but it looked like Lance was in tremendous pain. Hunter rolled his hand over, as though grabbing the tendrils of light in his fist, and raised his hand, as though pulling on a fishing line.
Lance’s features contorted and his body arched off the bed. Melissa shifted, not sure what to do, and then she heard a soft, moist squish and something slid out of Lance’s chest. Her eyes rounded as Lance’s body subsided back on the bed, his head lolling to the side, his features relaxed once more. His eyes remained closed, but his breathing changed. No longer panting, his breaths slowed down, deepened.
Hunter’s eyes opened, and the tendrils of light disappeared, winked out of existence. He reached for a clean hand towel near Lance’s head and used it to pick up the bloodied bullet fragment that lay on Lance’s chest, a smile of triumph curling his lips.
Melissa stepped forward, and Hunter turned, as though surprised for a moment to see her. His expression changed from triumphant to wary in the blink of an eye.
“You’re awake,” he noted, his voice a soft murmur in the room.
She raised an eyebrow. “I am.” No thanks to him. She kept her voice and expression cool. She’d wanted to throttle him when she awoke, but watching him work had mollified her anger somewhat. She was still angry, just not violently so. Besides, revenge was a dish best served cold, right? She stepped closer toward him, eyeing the small item resting on the hand towel.
“Is that part of the bullet?” She reached out, but he pulled the hand towel out of her reach.
“Careful, it’s tainted, remember.” He tipped the fragment into a glass on the bedside table. “Hemlock, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Easy to get your hands on,” she commented. It was one of the first toxins she’d been able to restock, although it wasn’t necessarily a high-demand plant. Mainly because you could find it growing on roadsides and near water sources everywhere.
“Nasty, especially if you’re dipping your weapons in it.”
She nodded, making a mental note. If you wanted to kill a vampire, you dipped your weapons in verbena. If you wanted to kill a werewolf, you dipped your weapons in wolfsbane. If you wanted to kill a human—or a dhampir—you used hemlock, or any other common poison at your disposal. Lance wasn’t shot by accident. Someone had wanted to hurt him, and knew what would do the trick.
“Where is Lexi?” She finally realized Lance’s sister was nowhere to be seen.
“She ducked out for some supplies, but then I sent her home for a rest. She’ll be back sometime in the morning.”
Melissa raised her eyebrows. “I’m surprised you convinced her to leave her brother.” The young woman had remained in the room when Melissa had worked her magic.
Hunter shrugged. “She needed a little convincing, but she was tired, there was nothing she could do here and, quite frankly, I don’t like a cluttered workspace.”
She eyed him for a moment. Needed a little convincing, huh? She wondered if light warriors possessed a talent for compulsion, like vampires did. She thought about her dreams. Maybe they had some skill with mind bending.
Another reason to hate.
Then she realized she’d been alone with Hunter—and she’d survived. No infernos, no explosions, no retribution for locking him up for five months. Not only had she survived, he was still here. She hadn’t thought to put up any blocking wards to prevent him leaving.
She turned her gaze to her friend. He was breathing easier now, and although his flesh still looked damp with perspiration, color was beginning to return to his complexion. But he still looked weak and unwell. “Why isn’t he waking up?”
Hunter threw the hand towel onto the soiled linen by his feet. “Because I’m a light warrior, not God.” He folded his arms, staring down at his patient, and she forced herself to ignore the way the muscles in his arms and chest bunched with the movement. “He was badly hurt, Melissa. That poison has spread through his body. I’ve been able to remove the toxin, but traces still remain in his body. It’s not going to kill him, but it’s going to take time for his metabolism to burn through it, especially in his weakened state.”
“So do something to speed it up,” she told him.
He dipped his chin. “I’m beat.”
“No.” She stepped away from him. She wasn’t going to go anywhere near him when he needed to “recharge
.” He held up his hand to halt her, correctly interpreting the reason for her retreat.
“Relax. Lance needs a break from the treatment. Too much light force too fast, and I could end up killing him. He’s had enough for now, as have I. I’ll start working on him again in the morning, once we’ve both rested.” He smiled at her, and for a moment she stared. There wasn’t anything wicked, or calculating. Rather, it was a tired, sincere smile, and utterly without guile. “I’d love a shower, though...?”
And there it was. A vision of him, naked, in her shower, water sluicing over those abs, droplets trailing down his body. She bent over and scooped up the linen, hiding her flushed cheeks.
“Bathroom is at the end of the hall, towels are in the cupboard underneath the sink. You can look after yourself. You’re not here as a guest.” She didn’t look at him to see his reaction, but stalked down the hallway to the cupboard that cleverly hid her laundry. After a moment she heard him behind her, shifting aside to let him pass her to the bathroom. He carried a dark bundle of clothing, but he shut the door before she could inquire about them.
She busied herself with the laundry, determinedly shutting any vision of his wet, naked body from her mind as she heard the water turn on in the shower. She heard him moan and realized this was his first real shower since his capture. Those bucket washes had consisted of cold water and a cloth.
Her lips curled as she poured some stain remover and detergent into the machine, then switched it on. The machine shuddered, then she heard the reassuring noise of water filling the tub.
A choked cry came from behind the door, and she heard a series of thumps, as though he was recoiling against the wall. A series of curse words were bellowed, and then nothing but the fall of water in the shower.
She walked down the hallway to her bedroom, her hips swinging, and she shut the door.
Nope. Not a guest.
Chapter 8
Hunter scooped up the eggs and slid them onto the three plates on the table. He was wearing an apron he’d found in a kitchen drawer. Either Melissa or someone she knew had a sense of humor, because the apron had the words I kiss better than I cook across it. It was true, though. Melissa did kiss a hell of a lot better than she cooked, if her prison food was anything to go by.
Lexi poured the juice, and he was moving the plates to the set places on the tiny round kitchen table when Melissa walked into the kitchen.
He almost dropped the plate, and fumbled to catch it.
She was all sleep-tousled and rosy-cheeked, her eyes blinking as she took in the domestic scene. She wore loose-fitting slate blue cotton pants and a matching top that looked soft from many washings, and pink-and-black polka-dotted woolen socks that looked like they’d been knitted from the hair of a Persian cat, all fluffy and spiky.
She looked adorable. Before, when she’d stormed down to his cell in her silken nightie, she’d looked all womanly and sexy, like a dangerously sexy siren. This morning, she was girl-next-door, scoop-me-up-and-screw-me cute. Like a sleepy tomboy stripper. He put the plate on the table with a thud.
“What’s going on?” Melissa asked, her voice all husky and soft from sleep. That voice. It still had that same effect, curling deep inside him with an insidious desire. Her brows dipped, her lips were pulled into a sexy little pout and she looked adorably grumpy.
“I noticed you had barely any food in your fridge and brought some groceries,” Lexi informed her as she took a seat at the table. “Hunter cooked breakfast.”
Melissa padded over to grab the coffeepot off the warmer and fill it with water. “Did he just?” she muttered as she placed the pot back on the warmer, scooped coffee into the filter and jabbed the button to turn it on.
“You’re a morning person, I see,” Hunter commented dryly as he lowered himself into the seat.
“I’m a coffee person,” she muttered, as she sank into the remaining seat. She eyed the food on the table with suspicion. Hunter’s stomach growled, but he held up his cutlery politely, waiting for the ladies to start eating.
Green eyes met his, narrowed and mistrustful. “After you,” she said coolly.
He tilted his head to the side. “It’s not poisoned,” he told her.
Lexi laughed as she chewed on some bacon. She swallowed. “It’s delicious. Besides, he’s a friend—and a doctor. I’m sure he can cook something without killing us.”
Hunter waggled his eyebrows. “See, Melissa. I’m a friend. And a doctor. I wouldn’t hurt you.”
She glared at him, and he sighed. She really didn’t trust him. “Fine.” He scooped up some egg and put it in his mouth. “Hmm-mmm. Yum.”
Melissa finally raised her cutlery, twirling her knife meaningfully as she met his eyes, then began to eat. He saw the soft flare of surprise in her expression as she tasted the food, and he smiled. “I didn’t think you’d mind me cooking for once. I mean, I know how you love cooking for me, but I wanted to return the favor.” No more peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
Lexi’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, so you two are—”
“No,” Melissa interjected shaking her head.
“Not yet,” Hunter stated, enjoying the flare of annoyance in her green eyes.
“Not ever.”
Lexi glanced between them. “Okay,” she said slowly, before focusing on her food.
Melissa rose from her seat, and Hunter watched as she crossed over to the cupboards. “Does anyone else want coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’m trying to go no-caffeine,” Lexi said as she pierced some bacon with her fork and ate it.
“Yes, please,” Hunter said, mostly because he’d gone five months without the stuff, but also because he knew it would annoy her, serving him. She shot him another hard stare and poured the freshly brewed coffee into two cups. She placed one in front of him with a thud. He had to move his hand to avoid the hot droplets that spilled with the movement. She gestured to the bottle of milk on the table and the pot of sugar.
“Help yourself,” she told him sweetly, then resumed her seat. She sipped from her cup, eyeing him over the rim. Her gaze drifted down to his clothes, and he straightened his shoulders, then almost laughed at himself, puffing up his chest like a courting parrot.
“Where did you get those clothes?” she asked brusquely.
“I brought them over,” Lexi answered, then drained her glass of juice. She rose from the table. “I figured I’d have to bring some over for Lance, and Hunter looks about the same size.”
Hunter’s eyebrows rose. She thought he was the same size as that hulk in the spare bedroom? He turned his arms, looking at his biceps. Maybe he’d bulked up in his prison, but he didn’t think so. The gray long-sleeved T-shirt was loose, but comfortable. “Thanks,” he said, smiling.
Lexi winked as she rose from the table. “Hey, I’ve had to do the walk of shame enough to recognize one when I see it. No dramas.”
Hunter chuckled softly as Melissa choked on her coffee, but Lexi didn’t seem to notice as she dumped the dishes in the sink and left the kitchen. He waited until Melissa stopped coughing and leaned back in her chair. He met her gaze as he raised the cup to his lips.
“You didn’t tell her I was your prisoner.” It wasn’t a question. Lexi had treated him like a friend-by-association, easygoing and open. She’d brought him clothes and bacon—even some toiletries so he could shave, and for that, she had a new friend for life.
“Neither did you,” she pointed out, folding her arms. That top looked so soft, and it showed off her breasts. His mouth dried. She wasn’t wearing a bra.
Good God. He could feel himself swell in his hand-me-down jeans. He raised the coffee to his lips, trying to distract himself, but all he could think about was how those breasts had felt against his chest last night, and how he wanted to kiss her again, and this time not stop.
“Why
didn’t you?” he asked her. Talking felt like he was trying to push his voice over rocks, so tight and dry was his throat.
She arched an eyebrow, and she went from gloriously tousled cutie to seductive vixen. His lips quirked. If she knew where his thoughts were going, she’d probably do some of her witchy-woo voodoo on him, make him a eunuch.
“Because Lexi is already worried enough. She doesn’t need to know the man healing her brother tried to incinerate me in a fireball. Where did you sleep last night?”
“On your sofa.” He put the cup down on the table. Her couch may have been a piece of furniture about a foot too short and not quite wide enough for his frame, but after sleeping on stone for the last five months it was almost bliss.
Almost.
It also faced a hearth. Would have been nice to have known that last night, too. They’d lit up Melissa’s spare bedroom like a fairy wonderland, when he’d had a perfectly good fireplace in the living room down the hall. Had she been trying to limit his access to light? Still, he got the recharge he needed when he’d kissed Melissa, and he didn’t regret that, not one bit.
Knowing that a soft and sleepy Melissa was just down the hall had been torture. He’d wanted to go to her. He’d had to keep telling himself it was because he’d been in captivity, months without a woman, and Melissa was right there. He almost believed himself, too, but as he didn’t share the same hunger for Lexi as he did for Melissa, it wasn’t quite convincing.
She was silent for a moment, then she flicked her hair back over her shoulder. “How is Lance?” she asked, her gaze on the table. He pursed his lips. She really did care for this friend.
“He’s resting. I checked on him when I woke up. He’s still battling the poison, but he’s breathing easier.” He eyed the kitchen for a moment, and a photo frame on top of the fridge caught his eye. He rose from the table. “Who’s this?” He gestured to the frame. He’d seen other photos around the living room, some featuring the same guy. In this one, Melissa was sitting at a table, leaning against the guy whose arm was slung around her shoulders. She looked...younger. Not agewise. He guessed it was a recent photo, within the last couple of years, judging by her age. No, it was the easygoing smile, the carefree twinkle in her eye, the absence of...anguish. He blinked when he recognized it. Melissa carried a darkness within her now, something that she hadn’t possessed at the time this photo was taken. The photographer had caught the couple in midlaugh. They looked relaxed, and very comfortable in each other’s space.
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