by Lila Dubois
“I forgot,” he immediately confessed. “I forgot to give her some of those little pills.”
“It’s okay,” Jane assured him, pulling the stick out of Lena’s mouth when it beeped. “I brought over the good stuff. I’ve been saving these bad boys since I had my wisdom teeth out.”
She frowned at the stick, then popped it back into her bag. “Michael, can you get me a glass of water? Luke, I don’t want you to worry about anything Lena said, her fever is so high she’s probably delusional.”
“Fever?” Luke asked, kneeling beside the bed to watch Jane work. He laid his hand on Lena’s ankle, needing that small contact.
“A fever is the human way of fighting sickness, the body heats up, trying to kill whatever is attacking it, but sometimes the heat will start hurting the body, and it needs help turning it off.”
She lifted away the wet washcloth and smoothed a clear paste over the top of the wounds. Jane then taped down several large bandages, much as Lena had with his shoulder. Luke’s stomach knotted with guilt as he watched.
“I forgot,” he reiterated, “I forgot what to do for her. Among our people sleep will heal most things, so when someone is ill, you do everything you can to help them sleep comfortably.”
“Don’t blame yourself, I shouldn’t have walked out of here and left you to take care of her.” Jane smiled at him, “It’s just that you seem so competent, I forget you might need a bit of help with some of this.”
Luke smiled in gratitude. Michael shoved the glass of water in between them, breaking the shared gaze, his own lightning-laced stare focused on Luke.
“Thank you,” Jane said, smiling up at Michael, whose fierce expression melted into an answering smile.
“Luke, help me sit her up.” Following Jane’s directions Luke climbed onto the bed, kneeling to prop Lena against his chest. He growled at Michael when he caught the other monster looking at the pink panties that peeped out from under the simple shirt Luke had dressed her in after discarding her bloodstained robe. Jane climbed onto the bed beside him and began gently tapping Lena’s cheek.
“Honey, you have to wake up and take this. Wake up now, you’ll feel better if you take this.”
Lena’s eyes opened, though they did not focus.
“Thirsty,” she rasped.
Jane held the cup to her lips, letting her take little sips, as Luke supported her back.
“Luke,” Lena whispered, eyes drooping shut for a moment before popping open as she again whispered, “Luke.”
At her back, Luke tensed, prepared to get off the bed, lest he frighten her into hurting himself again. The tight band squeezed around his chest once more as her normally melodious voice rasped his name.
“Luke?” This time it was clearly a question, follow by a pitiful little hiccupping sob.
“It’s okay, honey, Luke’s right here, he’s right behind you.”
Lena tried to turn to see him, and when her head only flopped side-to-side, she let out a frustrated little whimper. At a loss, Luke looked to Jane, who flapped her arms and opened and closed her mouth, pantomiming talking.
With great care, Luke shifted Lena in his arms, Jane and Michael both putting hands on her leg to be sure it didn’t shift. Leaning her back into one arm, Luke looked down at Lena, whose head now rested on his shoulder.
“Lena,” he whispered, keeping his voice low, trying to match Jane’s soothing tone. “I’m here.”
He had no idea what he was meant to say, but that seemed to please her, as Lena smiled. The smile immediately crumpled into a sob, and Luke almost dropped her and sprinted away, rather than make her cry again.
“Luke, it hurts, it hurts. I don’t want it to hurt.” She turned her face into his shoulder so that her tears wet his skin. She was seeking comfort, from him.
The need to protect—and desire to possess—her, welled up with such strength that Luke shook from it.
She is mine, and no one will hurt her again. She is mine.
“We know it hurts,” Jane soothed. “And we have some meds that will make you feel better.” She pressed two white pills into his hand. Luke widened his eyes, trying to tell her that he didn’t really know what to do with them. Jane grabbed Michael, and used him as a dummy.
Pinching Michael’s chin, Jane opened his mouth and poked her finger at the back of his tongue, then held the water to his lips. Luke, heartily amused by the expression in his friend’s eyes, turned to Lena to attempt what Jane had shown him.
Luckily, Lena knew what to do, and swallowed two prescription painkillers with no trouble. When he tried to ease her down onto the bed, Lena whimpered softly, so Luke lay down with her, using one of his own legs to elevate her injured one. Jane placed the bottle, more water and the bandages on the nightstand, along with a scribbled note.
Nodding to his friends, for Luke hoped it was not premature for him to number Jane among those ranks, he settled in with Lena.
Chapter Sixteen
“I want pancakes.”
“Jane’s note said you should have oatmeal or yo—um…yahg—how do you say this word again?”
“Yogurt, and I don’t care what Jane’s list says. Jane is an evil whore.”
“That is a terrible thing to call someone who cares about you. Friendship is precious, especially if those friends are willing to be by your side at all times.”
While this might have been a moving sentiment, Lena was over it. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard this reprimand, as it wasn’t the first time she’d been moved to curse her best friend. It was Wednesday morning and Lena felt worlds better.
Luke’s tending had speeded her to recovery, her vague memories of the past few days colored by his scent and gentle touch. Now that she was feeling better she hated that he’d taken care of her. Being sick was being vulnerable, not something she liked to be with the men she dated. Depending on someone else for your care was the ultimate act of trust in that person. Luke had done a stellar job, keeping her on meds so that the pain never overwhelmed her, feeding her, bathing her…
Just thinking about it had Lena twitching, so, like any grateful patient, she took out her discomfort and embarrassment on her nurse.
“I don’t want any more of your crappy oatmeal.”
Luke looked down at the box of instant oatmeal he held in one hand, Jane’s much-referenced list in the other. “I’m sorry it isn’t good. I’ve followed the instructions.”
Lena’s guilt tripled, which only made her more frustrated. With a sigh she collapsed onto the couch, snatching the remote. She turned on HGTV and settled in to punish him with hours of crafting and home improvement. Sadly, it didn’t work. While he’d seen plenty of movies, he hadn’t watched cable TV, and found everything interesting.
“What’s a glue gun? What’s equity? What is the point of wallpaper?”
Lena turned off the TV and chucked the remote under the coffee table. This wasn’t working.
“I’m hungry,” she moaned petulantly.
“Then I will make you oatmeal,” Luke replied, his wistful gaze on the now black TV.
“I don’t want oatmeal, I want pancakes.”
“But Jane said—”
Lena sat up, snatched Jane’s note out of his hand, and stuffed it in her mouth. Her leg protested the movement, but it was worth it for the look of shock on his face. She chewed a few times, smiling all the while.
Luke snatched up her cell phone and speed dialed Jane, his equivalent of consulting Dr. Spock for a colicky baby.
“She ate the list.”
Jane’s peals of laughter piped out of the phone as Lena spat the pulpy mess into a tissue.
“She says she wants pancakes. I don’t think she likes my oatmeal.” He listened in silence for a moment, carefully writing down a number Jane gave him. He hung up with Jane, gave Lena a petrified look, then dialed.
A moment later Lena listened to him ordering breakfast from Dough Boys and wriggled with happiness. He ordered her banana pecan caramel pancakes. J
ane must have tipped him off about her favorite breakfast.
When they asked what he wanted, Luke sheepishly muttered, “Anything with meat, and lots of it.” As he completed the order, Lena realized he must have been eating the same thing as her. In short—nothing. All those well-defined rippling muscles probably ate up calories faster than he could bring them in.
When he hung up, Lena held out her arms. Luke shoved the coffee table aside, and knelt beside the couch. He could have hesitated, rolled his eyes, made her wait, as punishment for her bad behavior, but he didn’t.
Lena leaned up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, “Thank you,” she whispered, drawing in a deep Luke-scented breath.
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry I didn’t get you pancakes sooner.”
“No, no.” She lay back down and cupped his face, stroking his cheekbones with her fingertips. “I mean thank you for taking care of me. I know I’ve been awful to deal with.”
“You’re ill, that’s different.”
“It’s okay, you can admit that I’m being a pain in the ass.”
“It’s been…challenging,” he said with a grin. Lena laughed, and he cupped her cheek, eyes turned serious. “It is good to hear you laugh.”
They stayed that way a moment, eyes locked.
“Thank you,” she repeated.
“It is my fault you were hurt, the least I can do is care for you in the aftermath.”
Lena sucked in a breath and turned her head away. Somehow, it had never occurred to her that the reason Luke was there was because he felt guilty. Her vanity had allowed her to believe that he’d come to care for her, projecting her own unvoiced feelings, those same traitorous feelings that had led her to ask him to move in, onto him.
If she were being completely honest with herself, Lena would admit that she’d been trying to push him away with her bad behavior. His continued care of her, even as she pushed him away, had given her hope. Most men fled, or gave halfhearted care, when the women they dated were sick. Those experiences had led her to adopt the friends-only policy for caretakers. Luke’s patient care let Lena believe that he was different, that this was different.
Instead it was guilt, not feelings for her, which kept him there.
“Lena?”
He tentatively touched her cheek, and Lena turned her head further away, hating the way his touch made her want things, want him.
“I’ve said something to upset you, I can tell, I can feel it.”
“I’m fine, just tired. When will the food be here?”
“Forty minutes. Lena, tell me why you are upset.”
“I think repaying your debt only requires you to make sure I don’t die, I don’t think you have to pretend to care about my feelings.”
“Pretend to…” Luke shoved to his feet. Lena watched as he paced to the wall, his strides long and hard. Luke pulled back his fist and punched the drywall.
The loud crack of bone and flesh against plaster startled Lena. She sat up, eyes wide as she watched Luke.
“I asked you to speak plainly with me and yet you talk in riddles.” His voice was the low growl that had once frightened her. Now, both fear and arousal came, as he’d conditioned her, with his exquisite touch, to find pleasure in that deep rumble. “I’m taking care of you because knowing that you were hurt because of me tears at me. I care for you because when I saw you hurt and suffering the breath stopped in my chest. If I hadn’t been able to heal you I would have torn the stars from the sky in my grief.”
Lena’s breath caught as his voice vibrated with the truth of his words.
“I will find the ones who did this to you, and I will kill them, because they deserve death for forcing you to suffer for even a moment. That is why I am here, that is why I care for you.”
Lena pushed off the couch, balancing on her good leg. Beyond words, she opened her arms. Luke was at her side in three strides, lifting her into his arms. After days of careful touching, this was rough, his hands digging into her back as he held her in place for his kiss.
She let herself go, expressing the fear, the need, the passion she’d kept bottled for days. As teeth nipped and tongues dueled, Lena admitted that some of this frustration had been bottled up for a lifetime, and only now, only with him, was she able to let go.
He carried her to the bedroom, easing them both down onto the bed. His hand snaked under the waistband of her panties, and he shoved a finger into her. After so many days without sex her body was tight, and even that small invasion sent rippling shockwaves through her. She was wet, her body creaming after the first touch of his lips.
“I need you,” he growled, “now.”
“Yes, yes, now.”
She whimpered as he started to spread her legs, the movement sending twinges through her injury. Luke leapt off the bed, and even as Lena readied her protest, he was flipping her over. He was not stopping, merely positioning her to protect her leg. With her legs dangling off the bed, toes brushing the floor just enough to give her some leverage, Luke pulled aside the crotch of her panties and shoved into her.
Lena bit a fold of cover, the pleasure so great that her fingers tingled with it. He was huge and hot inside her, no condom between them. She thought about protesting, but loved the feel of flesh on flesh too much to stop him. He surged into her, stopping just short of banging his hips against hers, which might have jarred her leg. He fucked her like that, bent face down over the bed, their only contact his cock inside her, hands on her hips.
And with him, it was enough. The emotions he’d raised in her with his impassioned speech thrust her to orgasm, the desperate press of his fingers into her hips and the fact that she knew he needed her as much as she needed him, had Lena screaming into the covers as her body quaked with orgasm.
Chapter Seventeen
“Again, slower this time.”
Luke, hands braced on either side of Lena, panting from the force of his pleasure, smiled at her words. Her passion rivaled that of any monster he knew.
He pulled out of her, their bodies sliding wetly against each other. “I don’t want to hurt your leg.”
“I trust you to find a way.” Lena turned her head to look over her shoulder at Luke, smiling as she did so. Her fulfillment, orgasm, he corrected himself, had brought a bright flush to her cheeks and lips. Her mouth was outlined, standing out in bright pink relief against the pale skin of her face.
He had to kiss those lips.
Luke helped her roll onto her back, then lifted her and set her in the center of the bed. He wanted this to be slow, romantic. She reached up to pull him down, greedy fingers tracing his tattoo, but he gripped her wrists, bending her arms above her head and planting her wrists there.
Lena licked her lower lip, eyes bright at this light restraint, and Luke remembered the bound girl getting spankings. They would work on that later, when she was better.
For now he settled with leaning down and whispering, “Don’t move.”
Lena complied, watching him with hungry eyes. Her minute movements, the biting of lips, the restless tilting of her hips, indicated that the single orgasm was not going to be enough to satisfy her.
Luke bent as if to kiss her, but at the last second, when her chin tilted up to raise her lips to his, he veered away, placing a single kiss on her cheek. Pulling back he repeated the motion, turning from the kiss at the last moment. He teased her this way, placing kisses on her cheeks, chin, forehead and closed eyelids, but denying her his touch against her swollen lips.
Soft sounds rose from her, but they were not of frustration. This teasing touch of his lips was imbued with something deep, something important. Luke let his feelings for her well up, guiding his touch over her face.
She was precious to him, irreplaceable and he showered her with kisses. If actions could speak, his touch spoke of love, for love her he did. There had never been any hope for him really. Her passion, beauty, spirit and acceptance were things he’d longed for. Her attention something that had been lac
king in his life. She’d agreed to help him save his people, touched him the way no other woman had…
…or ever would.
She was it for Luke. There would never be another.
It was time to acknowledge the painful truth that he’d mated himself to her, pledging the rest of his life to her alone.
Chest aching with sadness and love, Luke brought his lips to Lena’s. The long delayed meeting of mouths was slow, starting with closed lips, tongues slowly venturing out to touch and tease before their lips opened against one another and their tongues mingled. She tasted of him, how this was true he did not know, but she did. The taste of himself on her tongue spiked Luke’s desire.
They were both panting when he broke the kiss.
“I wanted to go slow,” he growled, “but I need you again, now.”
Lena nodded her agreement, chest arching up, nipples pebbled beneath the T-shirt. He bent and nipped one hard bud, and Lena yelped in pleasure. He repeated the caress, and when she started moving, body undulating to an old rhythm, trying to seduce him, Luke viced her breasts between his fingers to hold them still as he continued to nip.
Her body rocked, calling him to her. There was no need, for she had seduced and bewitched him, he was hers, even if he did not have the courage to tell her.
Above her head, her hands clenched and relaxed, as if working in bonds that existed only in her mind.
Luke released her breasts and moved down her body, his painfully erect cock, which had a much better response time tonight than it had on that first night, brushing the covers. Even that small sensation was enough to have him flexing his own hips, needing to be inside her welcoming warmth. He eased her panties down and off, taking care to work the band over her bandage. He brushed her shirt up to kiss her belly button, then licked a path down to the thin strip of curls. He teased them both by retreating to her belly button several times. He could smell her. To retreat from that divine scent was a form of torture, and Lena’s escalating moans told him that the anticipation, the want for completion, was just as strong in her.
Shifting, Luke lay down between her legs, his own falling off the end of the bed. He lifted her good leg, folding it to her chest and ordering her to hold it there. He then carefully lifted and re-settled her injured leg, spreading it to the side. In this position he had access to her sweet sex, and took immediate advantage.
