“It’s not that close to dawn,” he said. “Fine, then send Hope. She needs our help.”
He was talking about Rory. She was still pissed at Hope for tricking her like she had. Now everyone knew about Rory’s visions, which was exactly what she’d been trying to avoid her entire life. “I’ll be fine. I just need to get to my car.”
“You’re not getting behind a wheel when you can’t even see to walk.”
“I need to get away from people.” If there were no people around, there were no eyeballs around to shove images into her brain.
“Will that help?” asked Cain.
“Yes.”
“I’m taking her to a Gerai house,” he told whoever was on the phone. “Joseph can send someone to pick her up.”
Rory didn’t know what a Gerai house was, and she truly didn’t care. “I’ll be fine in a minute. I’ll be even better if you leave.”
“Are you going to come quietly, or not?”
“Not. I told you I’ll be fine.” And she really hoped it wasn’t a lie.
“I’m sorry about this,” he said, regret hanging in his voice like an executioner’s axe.
“About what?” She opened her eyes and stood. The visions were blocking most of her sight, but she saw enough to witness his big body approaching.
He moved too fast to be real. Too fast for her to even pull in a full breath to scream. His wide palm pressed hot against her forehead, and said, “Sleep.”
Rory did.
Chapter 6
Cain caught Rory as she crumpled. The metallic sting of drawing in enough power to make her sleep still burned his hand, but the rest of his pain was blissfully absent.
He held her in his arms and caressed her cheek as he’d been dying to do before. She was even softer than he’d remembered, her skin warm and smooth under his rough fingertips.
As much as he would have loved to linger over her, there wasn’t time. She wouldn’t sleep long, and when she woke, he wanted her to be as far away from people as possible. If that’s what helped mute her painful visions, then that’s what he’d do.
The walk back to the shelter seemed to pass in a blink of time. Her ridiculously pink head was cradled against him so that her forehead was pressed to his neck. The smell of something sweet filled his nostrils, and he kept breathing it in, trying to identify the intoxicating scent. It reminded him of spring, the way it used to smell centuries ago.
He made sure her skin never left contact with his. The blast of agony he suffered whenever he stopped touching her was not something he wanted to face until absolutely necessary. It was as consuming as it was incapacitating. Night was still upon them and demons roamed free. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to fight if the pain hit him again. He wasn’t sure he’d even be able to stand. The thought of dropping her made him careful, not that touching her was any hardship.
The soft brush of her breath over his skin made every muscle in his body tighten in anticipation and longing. She made him want things he refused to name. She gave him hope where he’d thought none could be found, and while that was a gift, it was also a curse. Hope was good only while it lasted, while there was still some question as to the future.
But how much question could there be when she clearly didn’t like him, when she couldn’t wait to be rid of him?
And yet she’d nearly touched his luceria. She’d said she wanted it.
Of course she had no idea what she was getting herself into. There was no way she could know.
The fact that he’d almost chosen not to stop her showed just how far he’d slid from the man he’d once been.
Cain knocked on the shelter door and Hope let him in, panic straining her voice. “What happened?”
“She’s just sleeping. I couldn’t let her run away.”
“You did this to her?”
Cain carried her back toward the safe room. “I had to. She left me no choice.”
“Oh, man. She is going to be furious when she wakes up.”
“As long as she’s still alive, she can be as mad as she wants.”
Logan sat bent over the small demon carcass with a scalpel in his hand. He looked up as Cain entered and rose from his seat.
“She’s fine,” said Cain, preempting any more concern.
He went to lay Rory on the gurney, but there was a black smudge of demon blood staining the sheets. No way was he laying her on that.
Instead, he settled into a chair and leaned back so she was resting comfortably against his chest, holding her close so she wouldn’t slip off. Her forehead was tucked against his neck, and he could feel streamers of energy sliding out of him, reaching for her, sinking into her skin wherever they touched. There was a heady kind of magic in the exchange—one he didn’t allow himself to think about for long. That minute transfer of energy was too close to the way it was supposed to be with a woman—his partner. He’d never felt it before like this—not even with Jackie—and he had a feeling he could get used to it way too fast.
Maybe he already had.
Cain guessed that the longer he touched her, the more the separation would hurt, but right now he couldn’t bring himself to care. He liked this blissful lack of pain—this tiny glimpse of what should have been—and he would use any excuse he could find to stay like this for as long as possible. It would end too soon no matter what he did, and that pain would be waiting for him, ready to pounce.
Logan stared at him for a moment, his pretty head tilted to one side, studying Cain.
“What?” demanded Cain.