Hugh (Her Warlock Protector)

by Hazel Hunter

  She blinked.

  “I…I don’t know,” she said. In all the excitement, she wasn’t even sure how she’d landed on the floor. “I don’t think so.”

  “Your pupils are good,” he said, putting the light away. He deftly cupped her jaw and tilted her face up. “How did this happen?” he said, looking at her mouth.

  “I don’t know,” she said. Her eyes began to mist up, burning a little. “I don’t know.”

  And that was the truth. She had no idea what had happened. More than that, though, it somehow reminded her of waking up in that alley.

  Thankfully, Hugh hadn’t noticed. He was ripping open a small packet. Then he swapped something cool along her lower lip, cupping her jaw again. His touch was so warm and soft.

  “That should feel better,” he said.

  As though he’d managed to wipe the hurt away, her entire mouth felt better. Only now did she realize her teeth had hurt too. But that had stopped. She ran her tongue along the inside of her lower and upper lips. There was no blood. That was strange. Hadn’t she tasted blood before?

  “I think you can let go of the leash,” Hugh said, looking at her hand. “I don’t think Noobie’s going anywhere.” Hugh looked down at him, and ruffled the hair between the poodle’s ears. “Are you, boy?”

  Nix set the leash on the bed next to her.

  “I need to look at your shoulder,” Hugh said. “Can you take off your jacket?”

  “It’s fine,” she said quickly. “It’s nothing.”

  Noobie cocked his head at her. Hugh arched his eyebrows.

  “Oh? Then lift your hand over your head.”

  Nix already knew that she couldn’t. Though she couldn’t remember how she’d landed on the floor, she did know it’d been a shock that had started in her shoulder.

  “Right,” Hugh said, when she didn’t move. “I’m just going to have a peek.”

  “Look,” she said, her voice strained and tight. “I can’t afford to get injured on the job. I’m not a regular employee.”

  “Who says you’re injured?” Hugh replied. His smile seemed so genuine. “In fact, that’s what I’m going to make sure of.” He paused and purposely eyed the zipper on the front of the hoodie. “But only if I can take a look.” He gave her a little wink. “You can even keep your shirt on.”

  It was only a joke and, in any other circumstance she’d have blushed, but her memory of the alley had dredged up haunting images: one of which was her blouse laying nearby, almost torn neatly in two. She’d never understood how that could happen.

  “If there’s a shoulder injury,” Hugh said, jolting her back to the present. “It could be as simple as a dislocation.”

  Slowly, she lifted her hands to the zipper, only to find that her hands were shaking. She couldn’t quite grasp the small zipper toggle.

  “Okay,” Hugh said. “Just a second.”

  He opened the curtain slightly, went to the wall, and grabbed a pair of latex gloves. He donned them as he came back, snapping them on his wrists.

  “I don’t want that shoulder moving,” he said. “So I’m going to unzip the jacket, and lower it from one shoulder. I don’t want you to move.”

  With relief, Nix dropped her hands into her lap and held them together to still them.

  As though he were handling a live wire, he grasped the zipper with only two fingers and slowly lowered it. He moved to her side and a little behind her, always staying in contact. His latex fingertips skimmed across the base of her neck as he slid the jacket off the one shoulder.

  “There we go,” he said quietly. “Let’s just see what we’ve got.”

  As usual, she wore a short-sleeve black t-shirt. He lifted the edge of the sleeve to her shoulder, baring it. His gentle fingers pressed lightly into her skin. Again she was struck by the warmth of them. But as he slowly probed around the top of her shoulder and then the back, over the shoulder blade, there was no pain. Instead, the tight muscles there loosened. As she hung her head a little, her neck made a small popping sound.

  “Good,” Hugh said, his voice low and smooth.

  Tension drained from her back.

  He lifted the jacket back into place so smoothly that Nix barely felt it.

  “How does it feel?” he asked.

  Tentatively, she rolled her shoulder forward a little. There was no pain. She lifted her elbow, as though she were flapping her wing. Still there was no pain.

  “It feels fine,” she said, moving it more. “I mean, it feels great.” She glanced behind her. “What did you do?”

  Hugh was taking off the gloves, and shrugged. “Not a thing. Like you said, it must have been nothing.”

  He dropped the gloves in a receptacle, as she kept moving her arm.

  “And you, Mr. Anubis,” Hugh said, adopting an overly serious tone. “Are you injured?” He crouched down in front of Noobie, who had been sitting patiently. “Oh, the quiet type, huh?” Hugh took a stethoscope from his coat pocket, and put the earphones in his ears. He pressed the diaphragm to Noobie’s furry chest. “Hmmm.” Then he was quiet for a moment. Noobie flicked nervous eyebrows at her, and Nix couldn’t help but smile. “I see,” said Hugh, removing the instrument and standing. “It would appear that Mr. Anubis is hungry.”

  “Oh my god!” Nix said. “What time is it?”

  She hopped off the bed, and Hugh quickly took her arm.

  “Easy,” he cautioned her. “Take it easy.”

  But he needn’t have. She felt fine. She’d just been about to thank him, when a question occurred to her. “What are you doing in the psych department?”

  He didn’t miss a beat. “Looking for you, of course.”

  “What?” she said, not sure she’d heard him right.

  He kept a light hold of her arm.

  “It’s not often I get stood up,” he said, his smile a little impish. “In the rain,” he said with extra emphasis. He paused and looked down at Noobie. “By a woman and her dog.”

  Noobie wagged his tail.

  Nix grimaced.

  “Oh that,” she said. “Look. I–”

  “But that was yesterday,” he said, letting go of her. He moved the curtain around the bed aside. “But you’ll never believe this.” He turned back to her, but nodded to the room’s window, now that they could see it. “It’s raining. So again, can I give the two of you a ride home?”

  Though Nix hardly had to look at the window to know it was raining, it gave her a second. She wanted nothing more than to have a ride home, particularly with Dr. Gor– Particularly with Hugh. But she couldn’t help but remember what the chaplain had said. On the other hand, if Hugh had wanted to try anything, wouldn’t now have been the time? Then again, she knew she wasn’t the best judge of people. She wavered for a few moments, going back and forth. Then she remembered the television. Wilshire Boulevard was shut down.

  She picked up Noobie’s leash and turned back. “We’d love it.”

  Chapter 11

  Though Hugh knew where this was probably headed, he wasn’t sure Phoenix did. She was a bundle of mixed signals. Because she hadn’t wanted to leave Noobie in the car, they’d gone to a drive-through. He carried the large sack of hamburgers and fries, following just behind her in the dim corridor. Since they had yet to eat, it only made sense to invite him in. But as they’d come up the stairs, she’d grown increasingly quiet. It was hard to get a read on her mood.

  For his part, he did his best not to look shocked. She was living in a slum. Was the hospital even paying her? Noobie stopped in front of one of the doors. She took out her keys, and promptly dropped them. She was nervous. He tried to stand back, tried to give her room, but she seemed always to be aware of him. After what he’d heard at the hospital, he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

  As she bent to pick up the keys, the door next to hers opened.

  “You’re–” the elderly woman began, until she saw him. “Oh!”

  It took her a moment to get over her shock, but she took hi
m in from head to foot, then back up again. In her hand she held a foil-wrapped plate. But when she saw the take-out bag in his hand, she put the plate behind her back. He smiled down at her.

  “Mrs. M,” Phoenix said. “Sorry if we disturbed you. I, um,…”

  “Just checking,” she said. “Heard a noise. Good night.”

  Then the door shut. Phoenix jumped a little, and Hugh arched his eyebrows.

  “Um…good night,” Phoenix said. She turned back to her door.

  “She seemed nice,” Hugh said.

  “She’s the best,” Phoenix said, putting the key in the lock. She paused. “Look. I’ve got to be honest.”

  Hugh froze. It wasn’t often he was turned down twice. But even as he thought it, he kicked himself. It wasn’t about getting turned down. It was Phoenix. She mattered to him––what she thought and how she felt. It was important. And he was more than a little surprised to feel how important.

  She turned to him. “It’s not just Noobie,” she said.

  As he examined her serious face, he tried to puzzle that out. Had she resuscitated Noobie? No. That’s not what she’d said at the hospital. She must have seen the look on his face.

  “He’s not the only pet I have,” she said. “But I’m not crazy,” she said quickly. “I just have a lot of pets.”

  He relaxed and exhaled a little.

  “I like animals,” he said, smiling.

  She grinned a little. “Yeah, well, we’ll see.” She turned and jiggled the key in the lock. “It sticks,” she said over her shoulder. Finally the key turned, she opened the door, and he followed her in.

  The little room was full of cages. He stopped just inside, as she closed the door behind him.

  “You don’t fool around,” he said.

  But rather than answer, she went to a small row of food bags along the wall of the kitchen.

  “They’ve been waiting all day,” she said, apologetically.

  She picked up a seed bag for the canaries. Hugh recognized the food, similar to what he fed his own familiar, a spotted dove. He set the burgers on the counter, as Noobie watched. Then he went to the row of bags and found the dog food.

  “Is the big one Noobie’s?” he asked. In answer, Noobie trotted over to it and nosed it along the floor. “Never mind,” Hugh said, laughing a little.

  “Oh, Noobie,” Phoenix said. “Always the chow hound.”

  As Hugh filled the bowl with dry food, he catalogued what he saw––or rather what he didn’t see. There were no journals or anything that looked liked a grimoire. In fact, there was very little of anything that didn’t have to do with her pets. Then he saw the candles. Though they were small and white, they were set up on a paper plate on the kitchen counter. Drawn in a light ballpoint pen, an uneven pentagram connected them.

  “I like the candles,” he said noncommittally. “Is that a pentagram?”

  “A what?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder. He pointed at the candles. “Oh, I don’t know. I found those near the bus stop.” She glanced up at the ceiling light. “Sometimes the power goes off, especially in the rain. I always keep candles handy.”

  He nodded as she went back to feeding the animals. There’d been no hint that she’d done anything other than what she always did––speak her mind. Her words had the clear ring of truth. The picture of Phoenix was slowly filling out. She was not a rogue. She didn’t even know she was Wiccan.

  By the time he put the dog food back, she was finishing with the two cats who’d shown up, a little yellow one, and a giant, fat black one. But it wasn’t the animals he watched. It was her. She gracefully bent to each one. Her delicate hands caressed them.

  “They’re really attached to you,” he said quietly.

  She tucked her hair behind her ear and looked up, grinning. “They’re my family.”

  It was another one of those unguarded moments. He stared into her deep green eyes. How many people at the hospital even knew what color her eyes were? But as she cocked her head at him, he realized he’d been staring too long.

  He cleared his throat and looked away. “What does the iguana eat?”

  “Iggy eats berries,” she said. “They’re in the fridge.”

  As he turned back to the kitchen, he just caught site of Phoenix reaching for the refrigerator handle. They collided. Though he hardly felt the impact, Phoenix went flying. She’d almost hit the counter, when he grabbed her around the waist.

  “Whoa,” he said, pulling her to him and keeping her upright. “Sorry!”

  “My fault,” she gasped, turning to face him. “Are you all right?”

  “Me? Good grief, Phoenix. I could have hurt you.”

  “You?” she said, looking up into his face. “You couldn’t hurt a fly.”

  She seemed completely oblivious of where she was—in his arms—or how she’d nearly been hurt. But what she’d said was utterly true. It was one of the reasons he’d never be a real field operative in the Corps. The observation had taken him by surprise, as always with her moments of candor.

  “Well, I know,” he finally agreed. He adjusted his arms around her, loosening his grip. “I guess I’m glad you know too.”

  For a fraction of a second a guarded look flickered across her face. Was he moving too fast? It hadn’t been his intent. But now that he was holding her, he realized how much he’d been wanting to do this. Maybe from that first time in the ER. But after the conversation he’d overheard, moving at a glacial speed might be too fast. In a blinding moment of insight, he decided to give her a dose of her own medicine.

  “Am I moving too fast?” he said. “Should I let go?”

  “No,” she blurted out. Her face flushed red and she looked down. “I mean, you don’t have to let go.”

  Gently he put a finger under her chin and lifted her face.

  “If you look down,” he said, quietly, “I can’t kiss you.”

  Her wide eyes stared up at him. “Oh,” she whispered.

  She was open to him in a way that was almost painful. Like everything else, her vulnerability was close to the surface––so close he felt he could touch it. In that moment, there was nothing he wanted more. He caressed the side of her face. But as his lips neared hers, he hesitated.

  He had been sent to determine if Phoenix was a Wiccan, and he’d done that. Technically, his mission was over. But somehow she had become more than that––much more. Something about her touched him in a way he’d long thought impossible. He needed to protect her, even if it was from him.

  Her eyes looked between his, her expression questioning.

  “I want to kiss you,” he murmured, “but–”

  “Oh god, I wish you would.”

  Chapter 12

  Nix could hardly believe what she’d said. But as Hugh drew her closer and lowered his face to hers, the moment that she’d asked for arrived. She closed her eyes and felt his lips brush against hers. Then they did it again, clinging a little this time. His lips were so soft. She stood mesmerized as they pressed into hers, lightly at first, and slowly.

  Though she’d only been kissed once in her life, it hadn’t been like this. But Hugh wasn’t like other people––other men. There was something different about him, something she couldn’t define. She couldn’t turn away from it. Without realizing what she was doing, she kissed him back. For a second, he went still. She wondered if she’d done something wrong, when he nibbled her lower lip.

  She gasped. That felt so good.

  Her lips closed on his. It was like a dance. His hand went to the nape of her neck. As her mouth urged his on, her fingers slowly crept up his back. His arms wound tighter around her, until the hard muscles of his chest pressed into her.

  She clung to his neck, wanting more from him, but not knowing what. But as he drew her closer, his mouth enveloping hers, his muscular leg slipped between her thighs and lifted. A tendril of fire blossomed at the apex of her thighs. She inhaled deeply through her nose, and couldn’t stop herself from moaning into his
mouth. His strong hands lifted her hips from behind and pulled her higher. Tension coiled below her mound. Her hips flexed forward, meeting his. Then he let her slip back, sliding down his hard thigh a short distance, before he lifted her again. A pang of pure need flared deep in her belly. She thrust her hips forward without his help. The soft thud when she landed only made her want to do it again––then again. She couldn’t stop, but she also couldn’t breathe. Though she was desperate for their kiss to never end, she made herself pull back. Her lungs heaved, trying to catch up. Everything had come to a stop. That was not what she’d intended.

  But Hugh still had his strong arms around her. She still straddled this thigh. But as he lowered his face to hers, he ducked past her chin. His warm mouth suckled the side of her neck, and she nearly melted, barely managing to tilt her head to give him access.

  “I’m going to make love to you,” he whispered harshly against her skin. Her eyes flew open at the words. “If not tonight, then tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then the day after.”

  He kissed the front of her throat, working his way down. His fingers found the zipper of her jacket and pulled it down. His mouth worked lower on her chest. She combed her fingers through his hair.

  “But only…” he said, pausing to nibble her breast through her t-shirt and bra. Her back arched and she gasped. “…if you want me to.” He put his lips against her nipple. “Only if it’s what you want. Only if–”

  She grabbed his hair and pulled his head up. “I want.”

  * * *

  • • • • •

  * * *

  Hugh bent down and scooped her off her feet. Though she hadn’t said where the bedroom was, there was only one choice. He strode through the doorway, kicked the door closed behind him, and laid her down on the unmade futon.

  Though the only light in the room came from the window, the bright billboard on the roof of the building across the street was enough. Though he was anxious to touch her, really touch her, he began with his own clothes first. If she wanted him to stop, now was the time. But as he made quick work of the dress shirt, slacks, and underwear, she sat up and watched. In a strange turnaround, Hugh felt strangely shy. It was ridiculous. He’d made love to women for hundreds of years. But there was something in Phoenix’s face that told him this was different. Though she hadn’t said a word, it suddenly dawned on him: she hadn’t done this before.