Ignited

by Desni Dantone

  I shut my eyes for only an instant, or so I thought. When they opened again, the room was faintly illuminated by moonlight and the house was startling quiet, and I knew that more than an instant had passed. I shot up and looked at the clock on the nightstand. 1:17.

  Five hours!

  In a panic, I dropped my head to Nathan’s chest to listen for a breath, a heartbeat, anything to let me know he was alive. I heard a soft la-dup under my ear and sighed in relief.

  “Well, am I alive?”

  I whipped my head around to the sound of his voice. The moon lit up our corner of the world just enough that I could see the glint of amusement in his eyes as he watched me. Torn between pummeling him for thinking this was funny and wrapping him up in a big hug, I merely dropped my forehead against his chest with a heavy sigh. I stayed there, hidden from his observant gaze, as I forced back the tears and swallowed the lump in my throat.

  What if he had died while I was sleeping?

  “I can’t believe I fell asleep,” I muttered after finding my voice.

  “Kris?” He ran a hand through my hair.

  Forehead still pressed against him, I shook my head, refusing to look at him.

  “It’s alright. I’m almost as good as new.” He cupped my face in his hands and lifted it to his. A single traitorous tear slid down my cheek and he brushed it away with his thumb. “Stop that,” he scolded me softly.

  I tried to nod, but couldn’t with him holding my head. “I thought...” I thought I’d lost you forever. I choked on the words, unable to continue.

  He released me and shifted. “I’ll be fine. I just hurt like hell.” He grimaced as he pushed himself up into something closer to a sitting position.

  I helped him adjust his pillow so that he could lean against it. My eyes had adapted to the dark and, with the moon’s help, I took the opportunity to eye the bandages wrapped around his chest and stomach. Blood had oozed through them in spots, but it was mostly dried and old. No fresh blood. He’d stopped bleeding, which meant…

  Which meant he would live. I allowed myself to finally believe it and smiled.

  He looked like hell, was weak and still in pain, but he was alive. He was far from good as new, but I’d take half way for now.

  He looked down at himself and wrinkled his nose.

  “You could probably use some fresh bandages,” I offered.

  “Hopefully I won’t need them anymore.”

  I eyed him doubtfully. “You couldn’t have healed that fast.”

  He leaned forward and pulled on the bandages. “Let’s take a look.”

  I swatted his hands out of the way before he made a mess of the wrap. I knew where the end was, and grabbed it. Starting from there, it was easy to unravel. With each layer I peeled back, the blood turned from dark and rusty, to bright red. His abdomen, once fully exposed, was covered in blood, but the wound itself was barely bleeding. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, if I weren’t seeing it with my own eyes. The edges had come together, where most would have needed stitches, and the gash wasn’t as deep as I recalled. He really was healing at an unbelievable speed.

  I raised my eyes to his in astonishment and he shot me a told-you-so grin.

  The wound below his left shoulder, once uncovered, looked to be at about the same stage of healing. I couldn’t conceal my amazement.

  “Nice perk to being part-god, huh?” he said.

  “It’s incredible, really. You probably should be bandaged for a little while longer, but…” I looked at him and shrugged, at a loss for words to describe the miracle in front of me.

  “Let’s get me wrapped back up then,” he said. “I don’t know about you, but I could use some more sleep.”

  I hesitated, and felt the heat rise into my cheeks. “What about the other one?”

  “Other one? Oh, yeah.” Nathan pushed the sheets down to expose the wrap around the wound in his thigh. I didn’t know if he’d been aware that he was in nothing but boxers, but I sure hadn’t forgotten. He wasn’t shy about it one bit. Me, on the other hand...

  Fortunately, it only took him a matter of seconds to unravel it himself, saving me from the embarrassing task. In another stroke of luck, I was saved from having to redress it. Out of the three wounds, this one had healed the best and didn’t need bandaged any longer. I was relieved when the sheets were pulled up and I could concentrate again.

  But then his bare chest and abs—and boy were those nice to look at—made concentration difficult too. Even gross and bloody, they were a sight to behold. I bet he would look really good cleaned up, fresh from a shower. I shook my head to push the thought away.

  “You okay?” Nathan asked.

  I avoided his eyes as I plucked the roll of bandages from the night stand. “I’m fine. Lift up your arm a little.” He moved his left arm out from his side enough that I was able to wrap around his shoulder. I set to it like it was the only thing on my mind.

  “You really okay?” I knew I wasn’t fooling him one bit and glanced at him hesitantly, expecting a teasing smile. He was dead serious as he nodded pointedly to my eye. “What happened to you?”

  I lifted a hand to my face. I hadn’t had a chance to see myself in a mirror yet, but considering the amount of swelling I felt around my eye, I suspected it didn’t look good. I shrugged, trying to pull off indifference. “They drugged me, tried to knock some information I didn’t have out of me. You know, the usual hostage stuff.”

  He didn’t return my fake smile. “Lillian did that to you?”

  I focused on my hands as they moved the bandages, and nodded reluctantly. I couldn’t imagine what he was going through after seeing Lillian alive, but Skotadi-evil. It must have been like losing her all over again.

  “I’m sorry, Kris.”

  I looked up and finally met his eyes. “What could you possibly be sorry for?”

  “I couldn’t stop them. I wasn’t there.”

  My hands froze and I stared at him. “Are you kidding me?” I was tempted to smack some sense into him. If he wasn’t so badly injured, I would have. “Nathan, you saved me. Again. This time, you almost died for it.” I sliced through the bandage with a pair of scissors and tucked the end under a few layers to secure it.

  He was quiet and still as I worked. When my eyes finally drifted to his again, he met them without blinking.

  “I would do it again,” he said.

  “I wouldn’t want you to.” I tried to sound convincing, but the tremble in my voice produced the opposite effect. I shifted to dress the final wound and tried not to notice Nathan’s eyes following me.

  “I know,” he said after a minute. “That won’t stop me.”

  I attempted humor. “Because that would require you to actually do something I asked?”

  “Because I can’t stand the thought of anything ever happening to you,” he countered.

  The lump in my throat was back. I swallowed, but it stayed. Breathing was difficult and came in sharp irregular gulps. My hands trembled as I forced them to work. I tried to avoid brushing my fingertips over Nathan’s skin, but that only made me more aware of each accidental touch, and every tingle those touches shot through every nerve in my body. The shock to my heart sent it into overdrive.

  I pretended not to notice that my body was selling me out, pretended not to be as rattled as I felt. I pretended that being this close to him didn’t make me want to be closer, and that holding back wasn’t torture. I pretended to be engrossed in doctoring him despite the churning inside my head, my heart, and my gut.

  I wasn’t pulling it off. I felt his eyes on me, and knew he saw right through me. In an attempt to hide my traitorous face, I tipped my head down. His eyes lingered on me a moment longer, then shifted. His chest rose and fell under my hands from a deep heavy breath.

  I ignored the voice in my head that said Nathan was having the same difficulties as me. It was absurd. He wasn’t. He couldn’t.

  I was relieved to reach the end of the b
andage roll until I realized that it stopped, of all places, in the middle of his back. I had to lean forward to reach around him, dipping dangerously close, to secure the end. Instead of shifting to give me more room, Nathan’s head angled closer, crowding us together in a tight, highly-charged space. His steady breaths tickled the spot behind my ear and sent a shiver down my spine, in a good goose-bump-inducing way.

  I secured the bandage, and leaned back just enough to lift my eyes to his. I couldn’t move farther if I wanted to, not with the way he drew me in. His eyes bore into mine as he sucked on his bottom lip—a movement so quick that if time hadn’t slowed to a crawl, I would have missed it. My eyes dropped to gaze longingly at his perfect, prepared lips.

  Barely a whisper of air separated us and, in the span of a racing heartbeat, that gap melted away. His lips touched mine and I pressed back, opening myself to him. He accepted the invitation readily, and laced his fingers through my hair as he pulled me to him. It was a deliciously slow and deep kiss, full of purpose and release, and more than made up for the weeks of deprivation.

  We had been kidding ourselves in thinking neither of us had wanted this for a long time. Now, after all this time skirting around my growing feelings for him, I simply could not get enough of him. Perhaps I got a little overzealous when I pressed even closer to draw our bodies together, forgetting that his was riddled with injuries.

  He broke the connection with a groan, but hovered teasingly close and I ached to have his lips on mine again. He hesitated and, for a moment, I thought he would tug me to him for more. Then his eyes leveled on mine. I saw the flash of terror in them before he pulled away, or rather pushed me away, seeing as how I had practically thrown myself on him.

  I had never seen him look that scared. Ever. Shot and stabbed, and back from the brink of death...no problem, but kissing me struck him down with fear. Weird.

  “Sorry,” I murmured. But I wasn’t. Not even close. I wanted to kiss him again and again, and I would have if I weren’t so ill-prepared for moments like this.

  And if he weren’t scared to death. Of me. I doubted I would ever understand that one. And, under the fear was pure exhaustion and physical pain, which I had made worse. Man, I felt bad.

  I slid out of his grasp and prepared to stand.

  His hand clamped down on mine. “Where are you going?”

  The fear in his eyes was replaced with a dread of a different kind. Dread over something I couldn’t figure out. Instead of forcing him into an analysis of the last thirty seconds, and what he was so worried about, I decided to go with the easy route—the obvious.

  “You need more rest.”

  His eyes flicked to the door. “You can stay here.”

  I wanted nothing more than to do that. Still, I hesitated and my mouth opened before I could edit what poured out of it. “Do you want me to stay because you really want me here, or just because you don’t want me around Alec?”

  He was silent long enough to give me my answer.

  “Alec won’t hurt me.” I started to stand and, again, he stopped me.

  “Maybe that’s not what I’m worried about.”

  “What are you worried about?”

  He almost answered, but was frustratingly better than me at thinking before speaking. “Humor me?” he finally asked.

  He was lucky he was injured. And cute. And a really good kisser.

  With a look that should have let him know this discussion about Alec wasn’t over, I stretched out beside him, making sure to stay clear of his wounds this time. His head rolled toward me and I felt his breath stir my hair.

  “Kris?”

  “Hmm?”

  I waited for the words he had wanted to say, and hoped they were words I would want to hear, but nothing followed. I felt the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, his steady breaths tickled my neck, and I knew that he was asleep. Left alone with the memory of our kiss, I traced a finger over my still-tingling lips until I too succumbed to exhaustion.

  That was okay, because I was sure to see him in my dreams, and for once, they would be sweet.