Reborn

by Fall, Carly

  He sat back on his knees and looked at her again.

  She deserved more than he could give her. He had too much respect for her.

  He couldn’t do this.

  ***

  Beverly had never had such an erotic experience as what she was having now. Everything about it was new to her: the cuffs, the blindfold, the complete unknowing of what was going to come next.

  Her body hummed with excitement and throbbed with desire.

  She thought she knew what was coming next, but then his weight disappeared from her. Using her senses, she tried to figure out what was going on. All she heard was his heavy breathing. She felt nothing.

  Swallowing hard, she waited, figuring it was part of the seduction. God, she was loving this. Seeing Hudson with that woman had awakened things in her that she never knew existed.

  He moved on the bed, and her bones vibrated with anticipation.

  She heard a click, and then her hands came loose.

  Next, she felt a sheet being pulled over her body, and then finally the blindfold was removed.

  Squinting in the glow of the bathroom light, she found his face.

  “I can’t do this, Beverly,” he said quietly as he sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the floor.

  He what?

  “You need to go.”

  She sat up, bringing the sheet over her chest, confused.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You need to go,” he repeated. “I can’t do this.”

  She let her eyes drop to his hips. He certainly looked more than ready to do exactly “this.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “You don’t need to.”

  She let that sink in.

  On the contrary, yes, she did need to understand.

  The sting of this rejection hurt.

  “Oh, I think you’re wrong,” she said in a low tone. “I think I do need to understand, Hudson.”

  He exhaled loudly and looked at her. She noticed he was shaking, almost as if he was sick again. “I can’t use you like this.”

  Beverly stared at him. “Use me?” What was he talking about?

  “Yes. You’re too…you’re too kind, too good of a person. Too beautiful. Just too…everything for me. You deserve so much better.”

  She sat in stunned silence. She was too good for him? She was a rehabbed junkie, for God sakes. “That’s ridiculous, Hudson,” she said. She held up her hand to stop him from talking as he began to argue. “And you aren’t using someone if it’s consensual. We both know there aren’t any strings attached. We both know that I’ll be leaving soon.”

  She wouldn’t let her confidence that had taken root after the talk with Hudson be ripped away. Her uncertainty in herself and who she was had began to be restored.

  “And you let me decide what’s too good for me and what isn’t,” she said softly, yet firmly.

  She watched his face for a glimmer of what he was thinking. He didn’t say anything, just continued to shake.

  Moving forward on the bed, she got up on her knees, letting the sheet fall to her waist, and she grabbed the sides of his battered face.

  “Hudson,” she whispered.

  “Bev, I—”

  She cut him off with a delicate kiss.

  ***

  As her lips gently moved over his, Hudson’s senses went into overdrive. Her soft touch soothed him, and her lovely smell wrapped itself around him.

  He became utterly lost in everything that was Beverly.

  Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her to him so they were chest to chest. The pain of the cuts on his torso faded and was replaced with the sweet fire of Beverly’s skin.

  She gently guided him down to the bed so that he hovered above her. A raw heat coursed through him, a feeling he had never had. Not to this extent anyway. He was close to the point where he wouldn’t be able to turn back. So close. He had to make her see that she deserved better than him.

  “Bev—”

  Her lips stopped him again. As her tongue snaked out to find his, her hands roamed up his back, her scent engulfed him, and he finally gave in to his desire.

  Chapter 28

  The road to happiness is peace in your soul.

  Holy shit, he had more of that in the past eight hours than he had in years.

  He sat up in bed, certain that he was dead. He had to be, because the pain was almost gone. If he searched for it, he could find a slight hint of it, but nothing like last night, where his body had literally rattled. Had he finally offed himself? Looking around, he realized he was in his quarters. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t dead, but what the fuck was going on?

  It came rushing back to him, and he crashed back onto the pillow as if he had just been run over by a locomotive.

  Beverly.

  Ah, sweet Jesus.

  Last night had been…incredible. Absolutely incredible. Beyond incredible. Fucking fantastic. He thought about it, a full-blown color movie playing itself through his mind.

  They had sex six times throughout the night. Six glorious times, each a new adventure, each time felt better than the time before. He couldn’t get enough of her, and based on the fact that she had woken him three of the six times, he guessed she felt the same.

  Of course, there were obstacles that needed to be dealt with because of his injuries, but he and Beverly had found their way to absolute bliss over and over again throughout the night. Their bodies moved in harmony together, a perfectly orchestrated, erotically beautiful dance.

  While they recouped, they talked about everything from working out, to favorite foods, to difficult pasts. He had told her about Iris, leaving out the details of how the carnage of his heart had taken place twenty-seven years ago, because hey, he looked thirty at the oldest, not fifty.

  No use screwing with her head or letting on to what he was.

  And he also left out the part about how he was barely getting along in life because of that carnage, but she pretty much put that one together.

  “And just to clarify, Iris was the reason you were going to commit suicide?”

  He had thought about lying, but as he stared into those green eyes, he couldn’t do it. Besides, she had read his letter to Noah. “Yes.”

  Beverly had nodded. “I can’t imagine loving someone that much that you would feel the need to end your life. Obviously she was everything to you.”

  Everything, and then some.

  And then some more.

  He looked over at the empty pillow next to him and wondered where Beverly had gone.

  He stretched and couldn’t believe how good he felt, and noted there was still a slight glimmer of his SR44 form still on his skin. He certainly wasn’t in love, so he didn’t have to worry about losing his SR44 form, but damn, Beverly had sure rattled his bones enough to make the damn thing do the shimmy on his skin. He checked his clock, and saw it was seven. Beverly was an early riser.

  He liked her scent on him, so he would forego the shower. After splashing water on his face, he looked over his torso in the mirror and decided that his stitches looked okay. The shimmer from his SR44 form was now completely gone, so he slipped on a pair of sweats, took out his contacts, and decided to go wake Cohen.

  He rode the elevator up to floor three, then knocked on the door.

  “Go away,” Cohen grumbled.

  “Can’t do that, man. Open up.”

  He heard some cursing, and then Cohen opened the door. He rubbed his eyes and studied Hudson. “Jesus, you got beat with the ugly stick,” he said.

  “Fuck off,” Hudson said, pushing past Cohen into his quarters. “You asleep? Not that I care much.”

  “Yeah, I’m asleep. Jetlag’s a whore and a half. Maybe even two of ‘em. It’s nice to see you, too.”

  Hudson looked around the room. Done in black and rust colors, it was dark, yet comforting in a way.

  Turning to Cohen, he said, “I am glad to see you, Cohen. Glad you’re home safe, man.”

 
They did a quick guy hug, a slap on the back, and knocked fists.

  Cohen nodded. “Heard what you did for us. That this,” he glanced at Hudson’s face and bare chest, “was protecting us. We owe you.”

  Hudson stared at Cohen, who was in a pair of boxers and a black silk robe. He hated the fact that his fellow Warriors thought they owed him, but for some reason he hated it a little bit less now that he had when Rayner, Talin, and Noah had said it.

  “Yeah, you owe me,” he said with a grin. “So fix me, Cohen.”

  Cohen eyed him a moment, nodded, then told him to lie down on the bed.

  Hudson lay down and got ready. He had been on the receiving end of Cohen’s special ability many, many times throughout the years. Knife wounds, gunshots, broken bones, concussions, and a truckload of bumps and bruises. So, yeah, he knew the drill better than he knew the English language.

  Rule number one: focus. Rule number two: do what Cohen said. Hudson wasn’t big on rules, but Cohen’s rules were pretty easy to follow, especially since he knew he would be on the bonus end of it all.

  “All right, Hudson. You know what to do because we've sure as shit done this enough. Do what I tell you, and you’ll be out of here in no time, and I can go back to sleep.”

  Cohen kneeled on the floor by the bed and put his hands on Hudson’s abdomen. With a slight warming and a mild jolt, Hudson felt Cohen’s spirit enter him. He took a deep breath to relax and focused on Cohen’s words.

  “No organs damaged,” Cohen said. “That’s good. We’ve just got to repair the cuts. Focus on your stomach,” he said, gently placing his hand over Hudson’s belly button.

  Hudson felt the skin knitting from the inside out.

  A few minutes later, Cohen said, “Now your chest,” as he moved his hand over Hudson’s heart.

  Hudson remembered Beverly’s hand there the previous night. Well, there and a lot of other places. God, she felt so good against him.

  “I don’t know what you’re thinking about, and I don’t care. But whatever it is, toss it, because I need you focused here.”

  Right.

  The healing.

  Not sex, not Beverly. He knew which one he would like to think about, but he had to get healed.

  He redirected his thoughts to Cohen’s hand.

  About twenty minutes later, Cohen pronounced them done.

  Hudson looked down at his torso. Gone were the angry welts and stitches. All that was left were slightly pink scars, and those would be gone in a couple of days.

  Sitting up, he rolled his neck, and Hudson noted how tired Cohen looked. Well, the guy had only been back a couple of hours, and Hudson had barged in interrupting his sleep.

  “I’m sorry for waking you, man,” Hudson said.

  “It’s okay. As my buddy John Lennon said, ‘you get tired for fighting for peace, or you die.’ I’ve been fighting a long time. But anyway, just get out of here now.”

  Hudson nodded. “I’ll tell everyone you’re off limits until you say otherwise.”

  “Thanks, Hudson,” he said with a smile. “I love you like a brother from a different mother, but get the hell out of my room.”

  Hudson chuckled and went back down to his floor. He decided since he was ahead of the whole how-much-pain-can-Hudson-withstand-game, he would go workout. He grabbed his Nikes, slipped into a pair of running shorts and a tank top, and hit the gym at the bottom floor.

  When the elevator opened, he heard AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” blaring, and he thought about how Beverly had done exactly that to him all night long. Based on the music, he fully expected to see one or more of his fellow Warriors in the gym, although it was a little early for any of them. He opened the doors and was surprised to see Beverly working out when he walked in. He had thought that maybe she had gone back to her room or something, and this was the last place he expected to see her.

  Dressed in a spandex workout shorts, a tank top, and some running shoes, he felt his cock twitch as he admired the way her body moved. She might be too thin, but she was strong. Watching as she went through a routine of squats, weights, push-ups, and knee raises, he realized she was doing the tried and true ten, eight, six, four circuit. That entailed doing ten of each exercise without a break, resting for a short period of time, then starting all over to eight and doing it all again. It was tough, and he admired her as she pushed through it.

  He watched for a few minutes and moved into the room. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Noah. The male was doing bench presses exceeding three-hundred-and-fifty pounds, and judging by the excursion, he was doing it to let off steam. Hudson guessed that Noah had pissed off Abby, and walked over to find out.

  “So what did you do?” he asked.

  “None. Of. Your. Business,” Noah said, pushing the weight up with each word.

  “Okay. Is she going to forgive you, or did you fuck it up completely?”

  “I. Don’t. Know.” On the last word, Hudson watched as Noah’s arms began to shake, and he moved behind Noah to spot him.

  The up-and-down routine with the barbell went on a couple more times, and Noah finally could do no more. Closing his eyes, his arms gave up on a big push, and Hudson grabbed the bar to put it back into its holder.

  Noah sat up, breathing hard, sweat rolling off of him in buckets. “I’m done down here,” he said, his words barely audible above the music.

  “Go make up with Abby,” Hudson said.

  Noah nodded, staring at the floor. “You set?”

  Hudson didn’t know what he was supposed to be set for, but whatever. “Yep. I’m good.”

  Noah nodded again and slowly walked to the door, never meeting Hudson’s eyes. Whatever he had done was weighing on him heavily.

  Hudson turned and caught Beverly’s stare in the glass across the expanse of the room. She gave him a small smile, but then he watched her eyes get darker.

  He knew that look. And based on that look, he knew she was thinking about last night, such a short few hours ago.

  Turning her back to him, she hit the floor for more push-ups. As he walked over, he admired her ass as it moved up and down from the floor. When she pushed herself to the top of the push-up, he wrapped his arm around her waist, lifted her up off the floor, and pulled her back to his chest. She fought him for a moment, and then went limp against him, laughing.

  “Good morning,” he said into her neck.

  She threw her head back and laughed. “Morning? Just because you slept all day doesn’t mean it’s morning to the rest of us.”

  Hudson felt ice form in his veins. Oh, shit. If his clock didn’t say 7 a.m. that meant it was seven in the evening when he woke, which meant it was terribly close to the summer sundown. He quickly tried to do the math of how long he had been with Cohen, and how long he had spent helping Noah. He remembered Noah had asked him if he was set. At the time, Hudson hadn’t understood or cared, but now he realized Noah was asking him if he had his contacts in that would mute the blazing yellow of his eyes when the sun went down.

  “What’s wrong, Hudson?”

  He turned to the mirror the same time Beverly did. Both watched his eyes slowly turn to a bright, vibrant yellow.

  Chapter 29

  Beverly couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Hudson’s eyes were slowly turning a bright yellow. A little voice commented that it might have been one of the most beautiful colors she had ever seen. Dismissing that, her mind went into physician mode, trying to come up with all of the reasons a person’s eyes would turn yellow, and most of them revolved around the liver. Jaundice. Hepatitis. In some cases gallstones.

  But somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she knew that what she was seeing didn’t have a damn thing to do with anything medical.

  He gently put her down, and when her feet touched the floor, she turned to him so that she could study his face. She noticed the bruises were almost gone, the cut on his lip nothing but a small scab. He wouldn’t look at her.

  An inkling of fear traveled
up and down her spine and settled in her gut, and her fight or flight instinct switched to “get the hell out of here” mode.

  She took off across the gym heading for the door. Flying through it, she headed for the staircase instead of stopping to see if the elevator was available. As she hit the concrete steps, she heard footsteps behind her.

  Her mind was a blank, all logical thought and reasoning gone. She just knew she had to get away.

  “Beverly! Come on, stop!”

  No! She pushed her legs harder, her thighs burning. The footsteps behind her were getting closer, and tears welled in her eyes, but she pushed on.

  “Beverly, please!”

  She didn’t answer, just kept running up the stairs, not thinking about her destination or how many stairs there were in nine stories.

  Then she heard a low curse behind her, and an arm circled her waist. She let out a scream, and then began kicking and pounding on the arm that held her.

  “Let go of me!” she yelled, hearing him grunt as her foot connected with his shin.

  “Beverly,” he said in a low voice into her ear, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She struggled some more, kicking and hitting him, but quickly realized she was in a losing battle, and stopped her onslaught, her breathing heavy.

  He gently put her down and she turned to look at him again, not believing what she was seeing.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said again.

  The thing about being a doctor was that your mind was trained to think scientifically and factually. You worked to get a diagnosis by studying symptoms, running tests, and talking to the patient. Once the diagnosis was determined, there was a set course of treatment to be recommended.

  A cold was a cold. Bronchitis was Bronchitis. Cancer was cancer. Everything was what it seemed.

  This huge man in front of her with the most beautiful glowing eyes was not what he seemed.

  He wasn’t human.

  “I’m part human, Beverly.”

  She hadn’t realized she had said her thoughts out loud.

  Anxiety ripped through her, and she let herself fall down onto a step, and put her head in her hands, rocking back and forth while trying to make sense of it all, trying to calm her breathing and racing heart.