Dark Fates (A Paranormal Anthology)(109)

Fuck. I should have left her with Enoch. But the thought lived for only a handful of seconds before rage surged beneath his lust. He’d kill the nephilim before he’d hand Jubilee over.

“Good,” Cara chirped, and awareness of what he’d been considering rushed through Fox. “Then, according to this website, you need to give her some OTCs and rest. Maybe put some cold compresses on it. If she’s in a lot of pain, I can see about diverting a healer there, but I don’t think management would approve. Unless we’re turning her…oh, well, and, in that case, just do it. That should heal whatever’s going on.” She sounded practically relieved. “Is there anything else? We’ve got some injuries coming in.”

“No. Injuries?” Shaking off the cloud of lust muddling his brain, he frowned. “What happened?”

“Some of the bears got into it on the subway. We have it handled. You take care of your human.” She hung up without giving him any other details.

Torn between heading in to find out what the trouble was and staying to look after Jubilee, Fox growled. The decision shouldn’t have required any thought at all. He was a Watcher. A fight in the subway could have created any number of problems.

But, if he left, he’d have to turn Jubilee over. Fisting his control, he forced his claws to retract and his teeth to return to normal. He wasn’t some young punk. He had over two hundred years of experience. If they needed him, they’d summon him.

Reviewing Cara’s advice, Fox went to get the supplies to clean Jubilee’s face up and put an ice pack on it. He had no idea what an OTC was, but he’d figure that out after he got his libido under control.

A few minutes later, he settled on the edge of the bed and washed away the remnants of her cosmetics. The layering she’d done with the dark eyes and heavy use of blush had given her the look of a child playing with her mother’s makeup, but the woman beneath the cosmetics was far lovelier. Yes, she still had a pixie face, all soft and rounded with high cheekbones and a pert little nose, but her lips seemed naturally pink and sweet.

When she shivered and shifted restlessly, he put aside the washcloth and pulled a cover over her. Picking up her clothes, he checked them for scent. The men he’d killed had touched her. Their scent was faint, but present. The acridness of fear had soaked into them, along with determination, but, beneath it all, was the ever-present perfume of Jubilee. Inhaling a lungful, he closed his eyes, and the image of her fierce eyes and the fight in her spirit filled his mind.

He found a wallet in one of her pockets and pulled it out. Her identification card told him her name and her address. She glared at the camera in the photograph, a tiny line tightening the space between her brows. Furious.

She’d be a hellcat in bed. He looked forward to pissing her off. He wanted to see that temper of hers. A look at the birthdate alleviated some of his stress, however. Older than she looked.

“Hello, Jubilee,” he told her. “You and I are going to be good friends.”

Gathering the rest of her things together, he dumped them into a sack and locked them in the closet before heading back to the bed. Jubilee was still asleep. He’d needed her asleep before. Now, he wanted her to wake up. But she probably needed to rest, and he should really ice her shoulder and her face.

Scowling at the unfamiliar feeling, his need to take care of her, he locked the room to make sure she couldn’t slip away and crawled onto the bed next to her. Making sure the ice packs were in place, he slid an arm across her middle and closed his eyes. He’d know the moment she woke, and then they would have a chat.

****

Jubilee fought the urge to hold her breath when his arm came around her middle. The throbbing in her shoulder seemed to beat in time with her pulse. Still, it couldn’t compare to her terror at waking to the dangerous man prowling around the room. The sharp sting of her shoulder snapping back into place had catapulted her from sleep. Thankfully he hadn’t reacted to her gasp. She’d dared a peek from her tear-filled eyes, but survival instincts, finely honed after a decade of avoiding just this type of situation, had her shutting them immediately.

He’d touched her repeatedly and cleaned her. Then he’d put ice on her. The whole time, he’d talked on the phone, and he’d said some odd f*cking things. Jubilee tried to ignore the strange sense of longing his tenderness awoke in her. The man—if he really was one—had killed her pursuers. He’d killed them so swiftly they’d barely had time to make a sound.

I have to get out of here. The glide of his fingertips awoke a skittering sensation in her belly that turned into a languid heat. And, just like that, she wanted to touch him all over again. What the hell is wrong with me? When she’d shivered, terror fisted in her belly, but he hadn’t noticed she was awake, and then he’d pulled the blankets over her.

The sweet, thoughtful gesture undid her. When he moved away, she dared a quick look. He sniffed at her clothes, and she catalogued that peculiar behavior with all the others but forgot why that was odd when he walked away from the bed. Dressed only in a pair of jeans that weren’t quite fastened and rode low on his hips, he exuded a raw sensuality. She wanted to drown in the carnal fantasies his near nakedness produced.

Hell, she was naked.

Oh f*ck, I am naked.

A whisper of movement and she closed her eyes before he could catch her looking. The jackhammer of her pulse made her greedy for air, and she fought to keep her respiration steady. Please leave the room. Please leave the room.