by Amanda Jones
"Who are you?" she demanded, her tall frame allowing her to only have to look slightly up to glare into my eyes.
"I'm Jonathan King," I replied and her eyes widened. Shit, she recognized me. She seemed to shrug it off quickly though, as there were more important things to think about.
"How is it that you brought her here?"
"I found her in an alley being attacked. The guy...wasn't conscious when I was done with him. Then I brought her here."
"Oh my God," she said, her eyes filling with tears. "How bad is she? What happened to her?" she whispered, visibly afraid for my answers.
"He broke her wrist. And she's got some injuries to her face," I added softly, as she covered her mouth with her hands and cried. I didn't want to be here anymore. I was really worried about the woman and her injuries but all of these people and her crying friend were too much for me.
"Excuse me, are you here for Beth Winters?" a man asked and we both turned toward his voice.
"I'm Dr. Kane. Beth is stable now. She has a shattered carpus.” Amy and I must have looked at him with blank faces, because he added, “There are eight bones that make up the wrist; all of Beth’s are broken. She's being scheduled for surgery in the morning. Eventually she'll be able to have some movement in that hand." Beside me, Amy gasped.
"But she's a music teacher! She plays the piano," Amy said urgently, and my heart sank a little further in my chest. If only I had gotten to her sooner.
"I'm sorry. Maybe with physical therapy she might be able to play again in the future," the doctor said.
"Otherwise, she’s fine. She has some bad bruising on her face from blunt force trauma, most likely closed-fist punches." I felt adrenaline starting to rush through my body at his words and I was glad for the attacker's sake that he was already in police custody.
"She also has a large lump on the back of her head from hitting the ground, so we'll be watching for any signs of concussion overnight. She should be fine to go home in a day or two."
We thanked the doctor and then Amy slowly walked over to the waiting room and sank down into a chair.
"Oh my God," she said again, her face in her hands.
It was time for me to leave. I knew she...Beth...was going to be all right, and I had been here too long already.
"I've got to go," I said to her, already edging toward the hallway.
"You can't leave," she said, looking up at me with surprise.
"I'm sorry, I have to. I'm glad she…Beth…is going to be okay." I turned and walked with quick strides down the hallway and out of the emergency room into the night. I breathed in the dank, exhaust-filled air deeply, already feeling less anxious. I needed to be alone.
Chapter 4
BETH:
I woke up in pain. I was groggy and so tired I couldn't open my eyes yet, so I listened to the sounds around me. Beeping and buzzing sounds made me realize I was in a hospital. For some reason, this didn't worry me like it probably should have. My body felt heavy like it was being weighed down, but when I wiggled my toes and tried to bend my knees I was able to with some caution.
It was only when I tried to move my fingers that a scalding streak of agony shot through my right hand and I realized that I was seriously injured. I breathed heavily through my nose as the pain dulled down to an almost-bearable ache. Note to self - don't move my right hand. My nose didn't feel so great either, now that I thought about it, so I moved my left hand up and gently felt my face. My nose was swollen and I definitely had a big lump on my jaw. I tried to remember what had happened.
Flashes of images slid through my brain. A strong hand over my mouth, my head hitting the pavement, a blinding pain in my wrist. I groaned as I remembered that I'd been attacked in the alley. But then other images started to streak across my mind. A loud growl and the sound of a body hitting something hard, a man's low moan as if he was in pain, and then a purring sound that was soothing to me even now from just my memory. None of this made any sense to me, and my grogginess was turning to exhaustion, so without ever opening my eyes I fell asleep again.
* * *
I woke again sometime later, not knowing how much time had passed. This time I cracked one eye open slowly and took in my surroundings. I was in a small private hospital room, with a window overlooking another large building next door.
It was dark outside, making me wonder how long I had been sleeping. Or in a coma. Or whatever. I looked down at my right hand and saw that I had quite a large cast covering me from the tips of my fingers up to my elbow. I didn't dare try to wiggle my fingers again; although my hand was so immobilized I doubted that I could.
I turned my head and saw a man sleeping in a very uncomfortable looking position in one of those awful plastic chairs hospitals had in every room. I was convinced that they did this to discourage people from visiting patients.
I didn't recognize him as I looked him over. I could tell he was tall, over six feet, and he had quite a muscular physique. He wasn't bulging muscles or anything like that, but he definitely looked sleek and strong. His hair was dark brown, like mahogany, and it looked thick and shiny as it fell over his forehead in sleep. His jaw was hard as granite, but in complete contradiction to that, his lips were big and soft looking. I bet he's a great kisser. Whoa, where had that thought come from? I wondered who he was and why he was here.
He stirred in the chair and his eyes opened slowly, landing on my own and seeming to freeze time. A memory tingled in the recesses of my mind, but I couldn't grasp it. His eyes were an odd golden color, unlike any other eyes I'd ever seen. He sat up straight but didn't pull his eyes from mine.
"How are you?" he said in a deep, gruff voice. I felt my heart beat in my throat as I looked at him. Who was he?
"I'm fine," I said shakily as I moved my left hand up to my head. He stood up suddenly as if to assist me somehow, but he just hovered over me in the semi-darkness looking unsure. I looked up at him and as he stared into my face, the memory came crashing down on me. I had seen those eyes before, in the alley the night of my attack. He had been there.
"Were you there that night?" I asked him and he froze in the act of leaning toward the button to call the nurse. His eyes swung to me again and he looked worried.
"Yes," he admitted, as he appeared to gather himself and push the nurses button.
"You saved me," I stated, not needing him to answer a question about that. I was unsure of a lot of details about that night, but I knew that he had saved me.
He simply nodded, his golden eyes piercing my resistance to men. I felt drawn to him unlike any other man I'd ever met. Before I could respond the nurse entered my room, checking my vital signs and chatting away at me. In the hubbub, he slipped out into the hall and didn't come back.
Chapter 5
JONATHAN:
I don't know what I was thinking when I went to her hospital room. I felt compelled to see how she was, so I'd gone during the night, convincing myself that she would be asleep and never see me.
But she'd woken up and when I looked into her beautiful blue eyes, I knew she recognized me. Not the ‘me’ that was in the alley, but something about me was familiar to her. Even so, I couldn't do the smart thing and get up and leave without speaking to her.
She was gorgeous, stunning really, even with the bruises on her face. I felt an overwhelming desire to protect her, which was an unwelcome infringement on my insular lifestyle. When the nurse came in, I had taken the opportunity to leave, convincing myself I would never see her again.
So why was I standing outside of her hospital room again the next night? I felt responsible for her, probably in an irrational way. The guilt I felt about not getting to the alley in time to prevent her from being seriously injured made me nauseated. I needed to make sure she would be taken care of when she went home.
I walked into the room and she looked right at me. So much for her being asleep.
“Hi,” she said timidly, her blue eyes matching some of the bruising on her face. Still, s
he was captivating, with her long brown wavy hair spilling over her shoulders.
“Hello,” I replied, taking a seat next to her bed.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay, I guess. As good as I can be.” She looked down at her hands in her lap and I saw her eyes swimming with tears.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her and then flushed with embarrassment, because I knew what was wrong – she’d been attacked. But she surprised me.
“My hand…I can’t play the piano anymore. Or any other instrument,” she said softly, without any self-pity. Even so, I could feel sadness floating from her like waves in the ocean.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “That bastard,” I added without thinking. She glanced up at me quickly and I felt my face heat. “I’m sorry,” I said again, this time looking down at the ground.
“Don’t be sorry,” she said with strength in her voice. I looked up at her and our eyes caught as she continued, “He is a bastard!” I found myself smiling at her and she smiled back, and then we were staring at each other and I was struck again by how beautiful she was.
“When do you get to go home?” I asked her, realizing suddenly that we had been silent for a while. Her face became sad but she tried valiantly to hide it behind forced cheer.
“What is it?” I asked gruffly, leaning toward her so we were only a few feet apart. My chest ached uncomfortably that she was sad, and I wanted to do whatever I could to take her sadness away.
“Nothing. It’s nothing,” she replied as she looked down and picked at the stiff hospital blanket with the fingers on her left hand.
“Please tell me,” I said softly, not even understanding myself why I felt so invested in this woman. But she seemed to trust me, and I needed to know that she would be okay.
“I have to take a leave of absence from work for at least two months. According to the doctors I’ll need extensive physical therapy if I hope to even be able to hold a glass again someday.” Her eyes filled with tears but she took a deep breath and blinked her eyes until they were gone. “I’m a music teacher, and I play instruments.”
“Yes, your friend Amy told me.”
“Oh. Well, the doctor said I can’t live alone right now because there will be so many things I won’t be able to do for myself. I have no family left, and Amy is leaving on her long-delayed honeymoon for two weeks, and…I don’t know why I’m even telling you this! I’m unloading all of my problems onto you, I’m sorry,” she finished in a rush.
“Don’t be sorry. I want to listen. And I want to help.” When her eyes lifted to mine again I realized how true that statement was. I really wanted to help her. I needed to help her. A plan formulated in my mind, a plan that I knew was crazy but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.
“You should come and live with me.”
Chapter 6
BETH:
I stared at him in shock. He couldn’t possibly have just said that I should come live with him. The idea was so ridiculous that it was laughable. But I didn’t feel like laughing as I looked at him, with his golden eyes intent on my face, and his sleek muscles pressing against his shirt as he leaned toward me.
“I don’t even know your name,” I said, picking the smallest problem I could find to discuss first. I certainly didn’t want to talk about the fact that my body had flushed with heat at his suggestion.
“I’m Jonathan King,” he said after a small hesitation. Shock rolled through my body. Holy shit. He was Jonathan King, owner of King Industries and a multi-millionaire many times over. Probably a billionaire for all I knew. And he had saved me from whatever horror that disgusting man had planned for me in the alley. I would be forever grateful to him for that.
“I’m guessing from the shocked silence that you’ve heard of me,” he said dryly, sitting back in the chair again.
“I’m just surprised, that’s all,” I admitted, running my eyes over his face and body again. He’s so handsome. And sexy. Stop it, I told myself. Whereas before when I had felt like I could tell him things even though he was a stranger, now I felt shy and awkward. He was Jonathan King, for God’s sake!
“I know it sounds a little crazy since we’re strangers,” he said with no small amount of understatement. “But you said yourself you need help and you have no one to help you.” I flushed in embarrassment at his words; I sounded pathetic.
“I want to help you, I really do,” he continued earnestly while I just stared at him and wondered why he cared. He was Jonathan King. He was rich and gorgeous and probably had women lined up around the block. Why would he want me in his home?
“I don’t know,” I said softly, trying to think of a nice way to decline his offer. I already knew I was attracted to him and I definitely didn’t want to be forced to watch him go out with other women. Ugh, I already sound jealous.
“I could hire people that can help you whenever you need anything,” he said as he stared into my eyes. Well, that meant I probably wouldn’t be seeing him very much. The idea started to hold some appeal. The truth was I had nowhere else to go. My parents had died five years ago and I was an only child. Suddenly, I felt very alone and I hated it.
“Okay,” I said without thinking about it enough to change my mind. I knew it was crazy to go and live with a man I didn’t know, but he probably had some gigantic mansion somewhere and I’d never see him.
“That’s great,” he said softly, and he looked so relieved that I wondered again why exactly he would want someone like me to move in with him. I was an ordinary music teacher, not anybody with whom he would normally interact.
“When are you being discharged?”
“In the morning,” I said, and his golden eyes darkened to an amber color. His eyes really were beautiful, especially since thick, long eyelashes surrounded them. I wonder what the amber meant.
“Okay, I’ll take care of everything. Why don’t you give me your address and I’ll have someone stop by your place and get what you need. How about we make a list?” And he took his phone out of his pocket and swiped it on. He looked at me expectantly as I sat there, stunned at how he had just taken charge like that. He wasn’t rude, but I could see why he owned a multi-million dollar company. Or billion-dollar. Whatever, it was more money than I would ever see in fifty lifetimes.
Because it seemed like the easiest thing to do, I listed off my address and the items I would need and he tapped it all into his phone and then sent it off to an unknown staff member to pick it all up. The poor shmuck, whoever he was, was going to walk into my apartment and be greeted by lots of dirty laundry and dishes in the sink. Housekeeping wasn’t my thing. I always found something more interesting to do, like practice a new piece on the piano or play my flute along with some DVDs I had of various orchestral performances around the world. But I wasn’t going to be able to do any of that anymore, I realized with a heavy heart. What I had wanted my whole life was no longer available to me. What was I going to do?
Chapter 7
JONATHAN:
I saw her get lost inside of herself, and wondered what she was thinking. She seemed okay with my somewhat crazy idea of her moving in with me, but I knew she needed the help. And you need to be the one to help her, my inner voice said. I knew that was true, which went against every other need I had to be alone as much as possible. I didn’t understand why I felt so protective of Beth, but I figured if I just got her in my home I could hire people to look after her and at least I would know she was safe. It wasn’t like I had to actually see her. And she could never know about my panther side. I hoped she would never fully remember what happened that night in the alley, for my sake as well as her own.
After that, time moved quickly and before I knew it she was being released. She had her physical therapy appointments set up for the next week, and they sent us on our way. I pushed her down the hallway in a wheelchair, but we didn’t speak. It was awkward between us suddenly.
When we got outside, my car and driver were waiting a
t the curb. People on the sidewalk were watching curiously as the driver ran around and opened the back passenger door.
“Hi Mike,” I said as I stopped the wheelchair.
“Hey Jonathan,” he replied as he looked down at Beth. He was huge, bigger than I was, standing at least 6 and a half feet tall with muscles that made him unable to completely rest his arms against his sides. He was a total teddy bear until he felt he needed to be something else. I figured he would intimidate Beth, but she surprised me.
“Hi. I’m Beth,” she said clearly in a strong voice, lifting her left hand out to Mike in a fist bump fashion.
“Nice,” he said with a soft laugh and bumped her fist lightly with his own.
“Let’s get you standing up,” I said, and Mike moved to stand on her right side while I stood on the left. She braced her left hand on the armrest to push off, while she cradled her right arm close to her body. She stood up slowly and then exhaled deeply and smiled. I smiled back at her and felt my coarse panther instincts rumble inside of me. Stop it, I commanded my body.
She walked the few feet slowly to the open car door but then stopped. It was a large step up and I could tell she was wondering how she was going to navigate it. I bent down and placed one arm behind her knees and one arm behind her back and gently swung her up into my arms.
“Hey!” she said as I lifted her up and placed her softly in the backseat of the SUV. I didn’t pull my arms out right away because her body felt fucking incredible against mine. My panther was growling inside me, and this time I couldn’t stop it.
Our faces were so close we were breathing the same air, and suddenly her breath was coming in small gasps. My eyes locked on her blue ones, and I glanced down at her beautiful lips and automatically licked my own. She inhaled quickly and I glanced up into her eyes again, noticing that she seemed turned on. I know that I was; my dick was straining against the front of my pants. But still I didn’t pull my arms away. Her large breasts were pushed up against my chest and it was the most seductive moment of my life, simply because she wasn’t trying to seduce me at all. She was just being Beth. And I was in trouble.
