Rogue Spotter Collection

by Kimberly A Rogers

  Mathias stared down at the man whose number faded to a flickering 1 with absolutely no emotion other than a terrible coldness. He dropped down into a crouch and grabbed the man’s left arm, yanking his jacket sleeve down. I stared at the blocky tattoo of a half-naked woman whose torso transitioned into a snake’s tail. Mathias then pushed the man’s eyelids open with cold precision. I couldn’t see what he was looking at and, at that moment, I grew aware of my own shaking limbs and the pain radiating from so many places.

  I drew a shaky breath and gasped as my ribs protested. I pressed my abused arm against my left side as I tried to keep from sobbing from the pain. There was a whisper of movement and a hand appeared in my line of vision. I flinched and instinctively raised my good arm to ward off another blow. Gentle fingers wrapped around my trembling ones and then I felt a light touch against my cheek. “Lauren.”

  A low sob escaped me despite my best efforts as I looked up into eyes that were filled with growing concern. The coldness that had been there was almost completely gone, although his jaw was clenched tight. His fingers brushed over my cheek and then pushed my hair behind my ear. “Can you stand?”

  I couldn’t even get a single word out for fear of dissolving into useless tears. Mathias didn’t wait for my reply. Instead, he looked me over once before he slipped out of his wool coat and wrapped it around me. He handed me my purse and then he picked me up, whispering, “You’re safe. I have you, Lauren.”

  I clung to his shirt trembling as the attack flashed through my mind again. Then, Mathias was lowering me into the passenger seat of my own car. I hadn’t even noticed him picking up my keys. I clutched my purse with my good hand as I bit back a cry when my left shoulder and arm were jostled against the seat. I felt a light touch to the top of my head and then Mathias breathed, “Just relax, love. I won’t be a moment.”

  He shut the door, and I watched him round the back of my car. There were shouts, and he ducked down before straightening again as security raced toward him. He looked not quite cold again as he spoke to the men. I closed my eyes and drew as deep a breath as I dared. I couldn’t break down in tears now. I was too exposed.

  I jumped when the car door opened and a low moan escaped me as my body reminded me that I hadn’t fared very well in the struggle. Mathias’ accent was a spot of comfort when he said, “Don’t worry. I’m taking you to the clinic.”

  He moved the driver’s seat as far back as possible before he settled in. Then, he placed my missing shoe in my lap. “I thought you might want to keep the set.”

  My lips trembled, as I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I took a breath and then whispered, “Is he dead?”

  “No. There wouldn’t have been a struggle if I meant to kill him.”

  I tried to ask another question, tried to tell him . . . thank you. Instead, I dropped my head as I drew another shaky breath. “I don’t . . . I don’t know why. W-why me?”

  I wondered if I sounded as pathetic as I felt. Probably since Mathias immediately reached over to stroke my hair. “Shh. Don’t worry about it, Lauren. All right? You don’t need to worry about it right now. You’re safe and that is all that matters.”

  Trying desperately not to cry, I just nodded. It seemed to both take forever and no time at all before Mathias pulled into the clinic for the paranormal community. Of course, it was only a couple blocks away from Halliman’s. A strategically chosen location.

  As Mathias carried me into the clinic, I heard him speaking in a low intense voice to the Sprite who had darted forward, her gossamer wings lifting her off the ground, “She needs to be checked for basilisk venom. She was attacked by a lamia’s thrall.”

  The Sprite hovered higher, her face pinched with concern as she looked down at me. “Bring her this way quickly.”

  After that it was a blur of medical personnel and bright lights. Mathias had been pushed out of the room at some point. Pictures were taken of every mark on my body. Finally, I was allowed to get dressed in my own clothes again. The Sprite hovered a foot off the floor, her wings more than making up for her short stature, as she zipped around the room. She checked her chart and then offered me a little smile. “The good news, my dear, is that honorless thrall didn’t manage to give you any poisons. I want you to take things easy for the next few days, though. Nothing is broken, but try to keep your wrist in that sling for at least a week. I want your husband to hear these next instructions, though, so let me summon him.”

  “He’s . . .”

  The protest died on my lips as the Sprite opened the door to reveal Mathias slouched back against the wall, his coat folded over his arms. He straightened as soon as she opened the door, his gaze darting to me. He didn’t wait for an invitation as he stepped inside the room, his gaze still fixed on me. “Is she going to be all right?”

  “Yes, with a little time and healing.” The Sprite fluttered back to the counter and picked up a bag. “Make a tea out of this and give it to her for the pain. It will make her very drowsy, and she can’t be left alone at night. But, it will speed her healing along and allow her to rest more comfortably.” She handed Mathias the bag. “Make sure she takes the doses of tea at least six hours apart. And, stay in the room with her the first time. I don’t expect any complications but if they should arise, it’s best to know as soon as possible.” She smiled at Mathias as she added, “You may take your wife home now.”

  I expected him to correct her. But, he merely offered a curt nod. My cut jacket had been discarded at some point, and he immediately wrapped his coat around me. His hands seemed to linger on my arms before he picked me up again.

  I must have zoned out because the next thing I knew Mathias was carrying me through my apartment. He didn’t stop until he reached my bedroom. He lowered me to the bed and then looked down at me. “Will you be able to change without help?”

  Heat warmed my cheeks and I dropped my gaze as I murmured, “Yes.”

  “All right. I’m going to make your tea. Call if you need anything. I’ll come in with my eyes closed if you wish.”

  The thought was . . . endearing. When I looked up, however, the door had already been pulled shut. Wincing, I swung my feet off the bed and limped to my dresser. I pulled out a man’s bulky argyle sweater that would completely swallow my slender frame as well as a pair of leggings and fresh undergarments. The worst of the grime had been washed away at the clinic, but I still wanted to shower.

  By the time I finished showering, I felt as though a dragon in its proper form had trampled me. The pain remained my constant companion as I got dressed. My left arm, shoulder, and back were sore and throbbing. There had also been a ring of dark bruises discoloring my ribs where my attacker had kicked me. My scalp was tender and tingled even as I slowly dried my hair with a towel.

  If I ever had any delusions about my ability to fight against a high number, today would have disabused me of them. As it was, it only confirmed why I had built my life around running and hiding from more powerful paranormals. The bed looked inviting, but I forced myself to move toward the door instead.

  I had barely set foot outside my bedroom when a calm voice chided, “You shouldn’t be up at all. Especially if you’re not wearing your sling.”

  It was a very odd experience to see a man who was not only long and lean but also a steady 10, one who had only a little while ago taken down a 7 with such cold ferocity that anyone in their right mind would be afraid of him, come clucking like a mother hen. Mathias stopped a foot away from me and studied my face, blue-green eyes searching for . . . something. I offered a faint smile. “You don’t have to stay.”

  “Nonsense. The doctor was very clear on her instructions.” His gaze fell to my attire and something flickered in his eyes before he asked in a much quieter tone, “Is there someone you want me to call for you? Someone close to you? The owner of the sweater, perhaps?”

  I stared at him. I was cold, achy, and bone weary so his words didn’t even make sense. “I don’t know why you would want to cal
l for me. And, who would you call?” A sigh escaped me as I added wearily, “There’s no one to call, Mathias. I don’t get close to people, remember?”

  He didn’t answer for some reason, but when I swayed his hands caught me by the waist. His touch was so warm that I leaned toward him without thinking. Then I blinked, clarity coming back and I managed to extract myself from his too gentle hold. I walked on unsteady legs back to my room and sat on the bed, suddenly feeling completely drained.

  Then, there was a steaming mug in front of me. I snuck a glance at Mathias as I grasped the mug warming both hands despite the protesting twinge in my left wrist and shoulder. I drank it, wrinkling my nose at the hints of a sickly sweetness combined with dirt in it. Why medicinal teas always tasted so foul I would never understand. Still, I forced myself to drain the mug before allowing Mathias to take it from me.

  He set the mug on the bedside table and then pulled down the covers so I could slip under them. My head felt as though it had been stuffed full of cotton and my eyelids felt so heavy. The constant soreness and pain faded from my awareness as I shifted over to the middle of the bed and laid down on my right side. I thought I felt a whispering touch against my cheek as my eyes closed but I couldn’t be certain. My body relaxed further and I slipped into sleep’s welcoming embrace.

  * * *

  Mathias

  Lauren succumbed quickly to the medicinal tea, as I had known she would. I pulled the thin covers over her and then brushed her hair away from her cheek, my fingers lingering against her soft skin. Clearing my throat, I straightened and grabbed the empty mug before leaving her room. I pulled the door to and then forced myself to go back to the kitchen. I washed up and then went to peek in the room again. She was sleeping and looking peaceful for the first time since I pulled the lamia’s thrall off of her.

  Coldness chased me as I forced myself to retreat to the living room. Even sitting down on the couch took far more effort than it should have as the memories from earlier crashed over me. My hands tightened into fists as an icy fury flooded my veins once more. I had almost been too late. I had just sat down in my car when I heard Lauren’s scream. I couldn’t recall the last time it seemed to take so long to run down a level and then deep into the garage. The image of the thrall pinning Lauren to the boot of her car, pulling down her ruined jacket to expose her shoulder, welled up in my mind.

  I drew in a sharp breath, struggling to control it, the fury, the ice cold fury that demanded justice’s highest price for the one who had dared to assault Lauren. If he had been able to brush even the smallest drop of basilisk venom against an open wound, she would have been dead of convulsions before anyone could help. If he had . . . If he had succeeded in taking her or doing worse, I never would have forgiven myself.

  Attempting to distract myself from those thoughts and the growing coldness, I focused on removing my shoes. The couch wasn’t long enough to comfortably accommodate a man of my height, but I would endure the discomfort. I had just pulled one of the afghans into my lap when my phone buzzed, and I checked the screen to see a text from Halliman’s security. The syringe had been filled with a potent sedative. One used to render victims both docile and completely vulnerable to suggestion when they regained consciousness. I drew in another sharp breath, nostrils flaring, as I struggled against the urge to march out of the apartment and continue my encounter with the lamia’s thrall. It would certainly not end with him still breathing.

  I had a hand on the chain when I forced the blinding coldness down. Then, I heard it. A low sobbing moan.

  Spinning on my heel, I dashed to the bedroom. Lauren still lay in the center of the bed, but now she was moving her head from side to side, eyelids fluttering but not opening. Something burned through the coldness when I caught sight of her tears and all I wanted was to stop her pain.

  I leaned over the bed, careful not to touch her left shoulder, as I whispered, “Lauren, shh. You’re safe.”

  She didn’t relax until I dared to stroke her hair. Even that calm did not last long. I hesitated before I crawled onto the bed next to her. I lay on my back just within arm’s reach of her and rested a hand against her back just above the comforter. My fingers brushed over the soft warm wool of her sweater, and I almost shook my head at my earlier foolishness. I couldn’t even explain why the sight of Lauren in an ill-fitting sweater so obviously belonging to a man had bothered me. But then, I hadn’t checked very hard into her past relationships. The moment it occurred to me that there might be another, no, that there might be a man she held in high enough regard to wear his clothes, something had tightened in my chest. Something that only loosened when she made it clear the sweater had no special significance even as a new ache settled at the reminder that she had been forced to live in isolation.

  Moving my hand up from her back, I resumed stroking Lauren’s hair. At the contact, she relaxed once more and finally seemed at peace. She didn’t deserve a life cut off from others. There was a loneliness in her, one that made me want . . . I forced my mind away from that dangerous path. I would stay next to her just long enough to ensure she was all right, and then I would return to the living room. Lauren didn’t need me to overstep my bounds. It was too dangerous, far too dangerous to even consider . . . more.

  * * *

  Mathias

  I had fallen asleep. That knowledge accompanied my return to awareness and then I was distracted by the warmth against my torso and weight on my right arm. Opening my eyes, I found that I had rolled over in my sleep and now Lauren was tucked against me. Back to chest with her head resting atop my right arm and my left arm slung over her waist.

  Ignoring the feel of her beside me, I thanked God that she was still asleep. Perhaps I would be able to avoid utterly humiliating her. Moving carefully, I rolled slightly away from her. A draft of cold air swept over my chest as I did so and I ignored it as well. A glance at the clock attested it was almost five in the morning.

  Lauren murmured wordlessly in her sleep when I extricated my right arm, but slept on, thankfully. As I eased off the bed, my foot connected with something. I glanced down blinking at the sight of a duffel bag resting next to the head of the bed. Within easy grasp if you needed it quickly.

  Picking the bag up, I carried it into the bathroom and closed the door before turning on the light. Unzipping the bag confirmed my suspicions as I glimpsed tightly packed clothes and a pair of tennis shoes. Lauren had a go bag. Smart.

  Zipping the bag up, I carried it back into her room and returned it to its former resting place. I took a moment to adjust the covers, pulling them back up from where they had bunched around Lauren’s waist and smoothing away the wrinkles from where I had laid atop them. Then, I slipped out of her bedroom. Once in the hall, I took a breath to control my emotions and forced myself to walk away. I couldn’t grow too close to her. Such closeness could turn deadly for us both. I would never be able to live with myself if I endangered her.

  * * *

  Chapter Ten

  Lauren

  The smell of food, frying meat and something laden with cinnamon, woke me. Still, I snuggled back into the warmth of my pillow chasing the fading vestiges of my dream. I had dreamed of feeling safe and actually rather warm instead of freezing in my apartment. I had dreamed of being held close and hearing murmurs of comfort laced with a delicious accent that could make my very bones feel relaxed and . . . safe. If I kept my eyes closed, I could almost make out his face. Mathias . . .

  Mathias! I lurched upright as memory came flooding back. The attack in the underground parking. Mathias saving me. Mathias bringing me home. My heart was still racing as I looked around my room. Nothing looked disturbed.

  Not quite believing I was even considering the possibility, I reached out and brushed my hand over the pillow next to mine. Cool to the touch and not even a dip to indicate . . . anything.

  I rolled my eyes as I tossed the covers back and eased out of bed. I was way too old to be worrying about such things, and if Mathias had
any sense he would have gone home last night.

  My stomach growled and I ran my hands through my hair trying to tame it into some semblance of order as I wandered out of my room. A yawn escaped me, then I stepped into the front of my apartment and froze. Mathias was standing in front of the oven. He looked over at me and the corner of his mouth tilted up in a half smile. “Lauren. Your color is better this morning. How are you feeling?”

  “Much more like myself,” I managed to get out. That much was true. Whatever had been in the tea had not only knocked me out, but the pain had faded to a far more tolerable dull ache. Mathias was still looking at me. I ran a hand through my hair and prayed I wasn’t blushing. “D-did you go home last night?”

  Something flickered in his eyes, too fast for me to put a name to it, and then he shook his head. “No. The doctor was very clear that you couldn’t be left alone the first time you took the tea she gave you.” He paused as he tended to the skillet and then he was pulling eggs out of the refrigerator. “How do you like your eggs, Lauren?”

  “Scrambled is fine,” I said automatically. I watched him crack three eggs then add milk to them before he started beating them. There was something strangely warming about watching him cook breakfast. Afraid I was going to do something rash if I didn’t take care, I forced myself to look away. My gaze fell on my couch and the afghans now piled at one end. I winced. “You slept on the couch? I’m so sorry. You didn’t have to stay. You could have gone home. I would have been all right.”