A Midsummer Night's Demon(6)

She strained to open heavy lids. The pounding in her head drummed a harsh beat. Her dry mouth and scratchy throat made swallowing difficult. Her eyes fluttered open, blinking several times to bring the world into focus. Stretching gingerly, she manipulated her body part by part finding it sore, achy. Lyn scanned the room slowly, the movement hurt.

Through squinted eyes, she could make out the wooden dresser across from her bed, bare except for the small TV. Her gaze followed the beige wall behind to find a door. Peering inside, she could see a shower and small vanity. The harsh light emanating from the ceiling fan stabbed her sensitive eyes, making them tiny, watery slits.

“Good. You’re awake.”

She turned her head in the direction of the deep voice and rubbed her eyes with her palms in an attempt to force them to work properly. She blinked at the blurry image standing next to her to bring him into focus. Did she know him? He seemed familiar—yet not.

The sight of him took all the suffering from her thoughts. She stared into the face of a dark angel with coal-black hair and a warrior’s face that could have been sculpted by God himself. She found him a handsome man, his face full but not heavy, with no deep hollows or uncompromising angles, but instead soft lines that blended naturally to form his features. His eyes were the lightest blue she’d ever seen, almost abnormally so.

Panic set in as the fog from her mind cleared, and she realized she was not in her bedroom, but instead in a room she didn’t know—with a stranger. No, make that a large man she did not know, she amended noting his height. Her eyes darted around the room with clarity for the first time. And they were alone! Her hands fisted in the sheet bringing it under her chin.

“Where am I?” she demanded, her eyes narrowing accusingly. “Who are you?”

The sizeable man put his hands out in surrender. “Whoa. It’s okay. You’re safe. I’d never hurt you.”

“Who. Are. You.” she repeated slowly, as if he wasn’t very bright.

Lyn watched an emotion flicker in his icy gaze, but it disappeared before she could put a name to it. He steeled the features on his handsome face. “There are not many people in this world who would speak to me like that.”

Lyn knew a moment of concern. She didn’t know this man. Maybe being impolite might not be the best approach.

“I didn’t mean to be rude.” She hoped he found her sincere. “I only want your name. I don’t think that is too much to ask.”

“Has anyone ever told you, you are feisty?”

“We Latinos are known for our fiery passion, if that is what you mean? Are you going to tell me your name or should I start guessing? Rumpelstiltskin?”

One eyebrow shot up in interest as he cocked his head. “My name is Ky Robinson.”

She pushed herself into a seated position, bracing her back against the headboard. “Where am I, Ky Robinson?”

“In my home.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “Where’s that Mr. Smartass?”

“Definitely feisty.” The corner of Ky’s mouth lifted into a sly grin.

Getting answers from this man was like pulling teeth from a faery—damned near impossible and totally frustrating. “So where is your home?” Lyn prompted, straightening the sheets around her.

“Florida.”

This line of questioning was getting her nowhere. She would need to switch tactics to get any information from this man. Obviously the direct approach wouldn’t work. “Can you at least tell me why I’m here?”

His body stiffened at the question. It was subtle and for a moment when he spoke she thought perhaps she’d imagined it. “I brought you here to keep you safe. You were attacked last night.”

Memories crashed in on her. Her hand flew to her throat. Lyn fingered the ragged flesh. Someone had stitched the wound. One. Two. Nine. She lost count. Her questioning eyes pinned his. “The man…my date…hurt me. Tore my neck. Why aren’t I in a hospital?”

He took a glass of water from the nightstand beside the bed and held it out to her. “Here, I thought you might be thirsty. And I have aspirin if you are in much pain.”

She had already been drugged once. No way would she take a chance on being drugged again. Until she was sure he could be trusted, she would not be taking anything he had to offer. “No pills. I’m fine.”

He tracked her hand as it took the glass from him. His eyes narrowed when she did not drink from it. “I know you are hurting, Lyn. You can trust me. I’m a…cop.”