Dark Angel's Ward

by Nia Shay

  His brows had been lowering into an ever-deepening scowl as I'd raged at him. He didn't argue with me, though. All he said was, "Your wound is gone."

  "My what?" My hand flew to my cheek before I could stop myself. Damn it, I couldn't let him distract me! "Like I give a damn?"

  "And I didn't tackle you." He pronounced the word as if he found it distasteful. "You were falling. I only meant to catch you."

  "Look, I really don't care what you meant. You got what you wanted, so just leave me alone, all right?" I turned my back on him and started for the stairs.

  "Wait. I'm trying to talk to you."

  "Too damn bad!" I bounded down the steps two at a time, hesitating at the bottom as vertigo nagged at me. Great, just what I needed.

  "Jandra, wait."

  Shit. No time for weakness now. Gritting my teeth, I pushed off the banister and staggered into the living room. I made it as far as the entertainment center before dizziness overwhelmed me, obscuring my vision with its intensity.

  I heard Zeph thundering down the steps behind me. He circled around in front, his big body crowding into my personal space. "We're not done talking."

  "Yes we are." I groped blindly along the shelf at my back, my hand closing around my empty glass from that morning. I palmed it, holding it behind my back.

  He edged even closer. "Jandra, listen."

  "Get away from me."

  His eyes flashed bright. "Then don't dismiss me!"

  I fell back, momentarily cowed by the reflection of my own fury in his voice. "Or what?" I spat. "What can you do to me that you haven't already done? What do I have left for you to take?"

  He blinked at that, as if my shouting had woken him from a trance. "I didn't mean...."

  "Just leave me the hell alone!" I hurled the glass in his general direction before turning to flee. It arced high and shattered against the wall behind him, but he didn't flinch or glance back. I ran anyway, slammed the bedroom door, and threw myself down on the bed. The room seemed to whirl around me in a lurching, lopsided orbit.

  I curled into a tight ball, my arms around my middle as nausea ripped through me. "Oh God oh God oh God oh God." I chanted the words compulsively--not so much a prayer as an accusation.

  Dimly, I heard the door swing open again. I didn't bother to look up as warm hands touched me, hauling me upright against a hard, lean chest. "Jandra, I apologize."

  "Leave me...alone," I panted.

  "I don't dare leave you." Zeph cupped my cheek, tilting my head up to meet his gaze. "You're completely unbalanced. This is not normal."

  "Your...fault...jackass."

  "No." He sighed. "But I am sorry I reacted as I did. I haven't felt anger in a long time. It's...potent."

  "Mine more than most," I agreed. I chafed in his embrace, but made no move to free myself. The vertigo had lessened, though now I felt limp as a dishrag. As long as he felt inclined to be comforting, I decided not to test myself--or him, for that matter. The rage had fled from him quickly enough, but he'd always reverted to aloofness in the past. Who knew what he'd come up with on his own if I pushed his buttons?

  "Why is this happening?" I wondered aloud. "You weren't like this last night."

  "I can't say for sure. I don't believe the need has ever overtaken me this suddenly before."

  "No, no. I meant you didn't absorb my mood last night like you did just now. What's the difference?"

  I'd expected more vagueness, but Zeph met my gaze directly. "You let me in this time."

  I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "I mean you took me without resistance. You didn't try to hold back from me, or keep me out of your mind. It's been a long time since you've done that." He smiled a bit sheepishly. "I may have taken things too far."

  "Shit." I turned my head to hide my face against his shoulder. It was just too damned much for me to process in this state of mind.

  He didn't complain. His fingers threaded in my hair, combing through with long, soothing strokes. After a while he asked, "Why, Jandra?"

  He'd posed that question to me so many times in the past twenty-four hours, but I didn't have to ask what he meant by it now. "You were hurting," I mumbled.

  "I'm no stranger to pain."

  The air between us fairly vibrated with the gratitude he hadn't voiced, but I wouldn't mention it if he didn't. All I said was, "Neither am I."

  He sighed and leaned down to place a soft kiss on my forehead. There were no fireworks this time at the touch of his lips. Apparently, the moment had passed. "What did you feel when we were joined?" he asked again.

  "What difference does it make?"

  His eyes were grave. "The wound on your cheek healed in a matter of minutes. That's never happened before."

  No, it certainly hadn't. My wounds did tend to heal faster, and with less scarring, than the average bear's--a fortunate gift of Warden blood--but five minutes or less was unusual even for me. I touched my face again, taking the time now to verify what he'd said. No sore spot, no tacky dried blood. I wouldn't dignify him by getting up to look in the mirror, but it seemed he spoke the truth.

  Which lead me to wonder why it had healed so quickly. Had we still been transferring energy at that point? I hadn't been drawing from him on purpose, but the sensations, not to mention the results, couldn't be denied. Yeah, something had been different all right, but I had no idea what. And that scared the hell out of me.

  He voiced my fears aloud. "It would seem I'm not the only one experiencing changes."

  "Right. What comes next, the conspiracy theories?"

  "What did you feel?" he persisted.

  "Heat." I scowled at the images forming in both of our minds. "Not that kind of heat," I lied. "I felt like I had a fever of a hundred and fifty."

  "Heat, but no pain."

  "Some pain. Then I got dizzy again, as you just saw. And now I'm exhausted."

  "Of course you are." His spine straightened instantly, as if he'd just remembered his manners. "Why don't you lie down?" He shifted his grip on me as if to lower me onto my back, but I propped an elbow against the mattress, hiking an eyebrow at him.

  "So you can lie with me? I don't think so."

  He literally bit his lip on whatever he'd been intending to say. "I'll gladly sit at your bedside while you rest, if you'll allow it."

  "Tact." I snickered.

  "Pardon?"

  "Nothing. No, you cannot hover over me like a ghoul while I sleep. How creepy is that?"

  His eyes flared. Apparently he didn't care for that answer. Aw. "I'm not comfortable with this arrangement. I don't like leaving you unprotected in the night."

  "It's what, like six-thirty? I'd hardly call that night."

  "Regardless, I still think it's unwise."

  "But why, Zeph?"

  "I don't know." His frustration practically heated the air around us. "It's simply a feeling I have."

  I snorted. "How novel."

  "Indeed. I'm at a loss to explain it."

  I shook my head at his earnest expression. "Jeez, are you afraid the bogeyman's going to get me? Don't worry. That little punk's afraid of me."

  "Who is the bogeyman?"

  "Seriously?" Now was so not the time to enlighten him on the subject of personal demons. I summed the whole thing up in three simple words-- "Just get out."

  *****

  "So alone. So cold and alone. What a pity."

  I bolted upright in bed, startled awake by the resonant voice. "Zeph?"

  It wasn't him. Though the man stood largely in shadow beyond the window, the shape of his silhouette was wrong. A stranger in my bedroom in the middle of the night--I ought to have been afraid, but I wasn't. I was curious. "Who are you?"

  He shifted amongst the sheer curtains, the movement sinuous and graceful. "A kindred spirit, dear heart. Your pain called out to me, and I came to you."

  "Oh. How nice. Remind me to put up 'leave me the hell alone' signs in the morning."

  He chuckled. "Your sarca
sm hides nothing from me. Your heart cries out for solace as clearly as if you'd shouted the words out loud."

  I snorted. "Great, that's just what I need. Another nut job telling me he knows how I feel better than I do. Nice to meet you. Now get out of my house before I call the damn cops."

  I leapt out of bed...and froze. Instead of my comfy-casual pajamas, I wore a sheer red negligee. Well, that explained much. I had to be dreaming. I suppose I must have realized it on some level, or else I just felt that secure in Zeph's protection from window-breaking psycho rapists.

  Nah, definitely not the latter. So, was I this desperate for someone who would understand my dark desires? Even more pathetic.

  As if on cue, Mystery Man slid closer to the bed, a swath of moonlight illuminating his face. "Do you fear the nephilim?" he asked.

  "I'm not afraid of anything," I replied as I studied him. He was as lovely as Zeph in his own way. His hair, almost as dark, curled down to brush the tops of his shoulders. So this was my dream man, huh? Interesting. "Not even you," I added as an afterthought.

  "That's good. I don't want you to fear me."

  "No? Then sneaking in my bedroom window was a hell of a start."

  He smiled rakishly. "As I said, you called to me. And here I am."

  "Yeah, that's not too corny. Just tell me what you want, all right?"

  "I only want to soothe your soul, dear heart." He glided the last few steps to kneel on the bed. Separated only by the width of the mattress now, I could see that his eyes were pale blue--about as un-nephilim as they could get--and achingly sincere. "I, too, have been betrayed and left for dead by those I trusted," he murmured. "I know your pain well."

  "I hate to break it to you, pally, but around here I'm the one who does the leaving."

  "But at no small cost to yourself," he countered, reaching out to touch me. I started to flinch away, but chided myself. It was just a stupid dream, after all, and his fingers felt strong and warm. Call me attention-starved. I relaxed and let him run his hand up and down my arm.

  "There," he purred. "Doesn't it make you feel better?"

  "Oh, sure."

  Smiling, he pulled me down to sit beside him and encircled me with lithe arms. "You lied to him last night, didn't you?"

  "I have no idea what you're talking about," I yawned. The warmth of Dream Man's embrace lulled me, made me feel drowsy. Tired in a dream? Eh, whatever. I slouched against him, letting his body support mine.

  "You told him you never loved him," Dreamy continued. "But you did, didn't you? And in return, he taught you the pleasures of the flesh and drank up your passion like wine."

  I snorted. "How quaint. My own id is waxing poetic."

  Soft lips grazed my earlobe. "Is that what you think?"

  "Pretty much."

  "Then nothing we do is a sin." Laughing huskily, he leaned in to plant a line of kisses along the curve of my neck.

  I rolled my eyes heavenward. "God help me, now my id is trying to seduce me."

  "Ah, but you don't believe in God, do you?"

  "Actually, yes. I do." Irritated by his attitude, I shrugged Dream Man away.

  "Really? Even though He failed to protect you from the lusts of his bastard son?"

  Scowling, I disentangled myself from his arms. "You know what? You're starting to give me a migraine."

  "Time to wake up, then, isn't it?" He smirked, rising to his feet and gesturing grandly to the bed. "Go on, dear heart. You'll see me again soon."

  "Oh yay, can't wait," I muttered as I lay back down. I shut my eyes, but the pounding in my head didn't subside. If anything it got worse. Harsh light began to seep in through my closed lids, until....

  I woke with a start. Pale sunlight streamed into the room, casting wavering patterns on the wall behind me. The sheer curtains flapped in the breeze from the open window. Which hadn't been open when I'd lain down to sleep.

  Oh, how horror movie.

  Frowning, I rubbed my eyes, surprised to hear the deep thrum of a bass guitar from the CD player. Had I left it on last night? I flopped back on the pillows, reaching over to flick off the music, but the pounding started right back up again. Clearly it wasn't just the drummer talking.

  No, someone was beating down my front door. I rolled out of bed, snarkily grateful to find myself in my normal pajamas instead of the trashy lingerie. Yawning, I padded to the front door and threw it open without a thought. "Leave or die."

  Twin grins met my sleep-crusted eyes. "Come on, boss. Is that any way to talk to your favorite girls?"

  Ten

  I let my head fall against the doorframe with a thump. "Let me rephrase, then. Leave now, or die slowly."

  "Aw, I know you're just saying that 'cause you love us." Cara hoisted a six-pack of soda in one hand and a dozen doughnuts in the other. A peace offering, huh? I wouldn't fall for it. I continued to seethe as I stepped aside and gestured them in.

  "How'd you even find out where I live?" I added irritably.

  "Well, when you didn't come back to work last night--we covered your ass, by the way, and you're welcome--we started to get worried." Cara plopped her burden down on the coffee table, snagging a soda for herself. "And then you didn't answer your phone all morning, so I reverse-searched your number online and got your address."

  I frowned. "What do you mean 'all morning?' What time is it, anyway?"

  "Like, two in the afternoon." She gave me an odd look as she pointed to the wall clock. "What, have you been asleep the whole day?"

  "Actually, yes." Which wasn't too surprising considering the way Zeph and I had been shifting energy around, but damned inconvenient. If the girls hadn't invited themselves over, we might well have slept right through our meeting tonight. "Thanks for checking on me, brats." I sighed, helping myself to a cruller. "Consider the death threat officially revoked."

  Cara smirked. "Apology accepted."

  "So, nice house," Sara piped up, startling me. She'd been even quieter than usual.

  Her sister snickered. "What she means to say is, mind if we look around your nice house until we figure out where you've stashed Mr. Hottie McHot Pants?"

  I covered my surprise with a scoff. "What makes you think he's here?"

  "Oh, please, boss. You wouldn't blow off work if you had two broken legs. Two busy legs, now, that might be another matter...."

  "Cara!" her sister shrieked, blushing. Cara just laughed.

  I had a hard time holding back a chuckle myself. "Let me get this straight. You think I've been boinking Zeph for twelve hours straight, so attentively that I couldn't even roll over and pick up a phone? That's your big theory?"

  Now she had the grace to look abashed. "Hey, we just wanted to know if he's here or not, that's all."

  "Yeah, that's just what it sounded like."

  "Oh, come on! I saw the ass on that man." She lolled her head back and fanned herself with an open hand. "That's enough to make a mother superior break her vows."

  Sara rolled her eyes at her twin. "We've also been doing some research on nephilim since the other night. We were hoping maybe Zeph could shed some light on a few things."

  I quirked an eyebrow at her. "Don't count on it. I suppose I should go check on him, though."

  Cara snapped back to attention. "Aha! So he is here!"

  "Yes, he is. Upstairs, in a separate bedroom, just as dead asleep as I was a scant ten minutes ago."

  "So? Can we talk to him?"

  I shrugged. Assuming he woke up as rational as he'd been when I'd gone to bed, I didn't see any harm in it. Especially if it kept him occupied and off my back for a while. "Oh, why not?"

  "Go on, go get him!" Sara cried, grinning from ear to ear. "We'll wait down here."

  "Oh, certainly. Make yourselves at home, why don't you?"

  My sarcasm was lost on them. "We will," they chorused in unison, plopping down on the couch.

  Grumbling uselessly under my breath, I mounted the stairs, taking them one at a time. Fortunately, my dizziness seemed to have
passed--I could only hope I'd slept off any ill effects of bonding with Zeph. Today, my steps were slow with trepidation. I didn't want to face him in the light of day.

  I didn't find him in the room I'd offered to him, though, nor the next one. He'd holed up in the smallest bedroom at the farthest end of the hall. I found him lying on his side on the floor, dressed only in a pair of black boxer-briefs. His clothing lay folded neatly on the foot of the bed. He'd twined the light coverlet around his nearly nude body. Its clean off-white hue looked almost dull against the alabaster paleness of his skin.

  "Hey." I knelt beside him and gingerly shook his shoulder where the fabric kept my hand from bare flesh. "Wake up, I need to talk to you."

  His dark lashes parted slowly. He smiled softly as he caught sight of me, and whispered my name. Then a look of alarm creased his features. "Are you well?" He sat up and caught me in his arms in a single, fluid motion. "You cried out for me."

  "Um, no I didn't," I mumbled against his shoulder.

  "You called my name in your sleep," he insisted, "but I couldn't wake. I wanted to come to you. I tried."

  "Damn, Zeph, everything's fine! I had a wiggy dream, that's all. We're all awake now, so lay off the noble anguish crap. And let the hell go of me." Before I melt, I didn't add.

  And he didn't let go. "I was afraid for you."

  Those words rang familiar from our talk in the car. "Did you have another nightmare?" I asked, squirming to get a better view of his expression.

  "No." He pulled me closer almost sharply. An unspoken command: hold me.

  Wrapped in the warmth of his arms, I could no longer resist the urge. I brought my own arms up awkwardly--every possible place seemed too intimate to touch--and finally settled them just above his waist. Surprise flitted through me at the rough texture of the skin beneath my fingers. I'd somehow managed to forget the two deep furrows of scar tissue that ran the length of his back. Perhaps because they were the only flaws on his body, they'd seemed alien somehow, and hadn't registered in my memory as part of him.