An order. Definitely an order.
Janie was accustomed to dealing with angry vampires, but this one was different. This one looked at her as if he’d either like to eat her alive or toss her on the bed. She swallowed. Her abdomen fluttered, and her breasts grew heavy. The cabin suddenly shrank in size, overwhelmed by Zane. She kept her stance steady, studying him, and then gasped. “You’re injured.”
“Yes.” He held her gaze. “Either put the knife away or attack. Let’s get this over with.”
Chapter 9
Stabbing Zane wouldn’t get her home. Janie slowly slid the blade into her back pocket, trying to banish concern over his bleeding chest without success. “Who shot you this time?”
“The Kurjans are irritated Suri double-crossed them.” Zane snapped open his black vest, dropped it on the floor, and then yanked his shirt over his head, turning to stride into the kitchen.
Janie’s mouth dried up. Smooth, hard, predatory muscles shifted in Zane’s back as he moved. He’d always been big, but seeing him in person, seeing his ripped, corded body in real time, stole her breath. The sweet boy had grown into a magnificent creature. “Are you more vampire or demon?” she whispered as he retrieved a first-aid kit from beneath the wide sink.
He turned and dropped into one of two kitchen chairs, which creaked under his weight. “Hell if I know. Add in a feline shifter as a great-grandmother and a wolf shifter several generations back, and I don’t belong with any race.” Loneliness flashed across his face to be quickly banished as he removed a set of pliers from the box.
Wow. Such a pedigree made for an explosive combination. Although he certainly shared his genetics with his brothers, he seemed so alone. An island in the middle of nowhere and responsible for everyone. Without even taking a breath, he shoved the pliers into his flesh.
Janie rushed forward, panic heating her lungs. “What in the world are you doing?” She wrapped her hand on top of his, not coming close to covering it.
He stilled and glanced down at her hand to look back up. Curiosity filtered through his gaze. “Teleporting weakens me, and I can’t shove out the bullets. So I’m removing them.”
Oh. Not for one second had he even thought to ask for assistance. That idea saddened her more than the fact that he’d been shot twice in a day. She gently pushed his hand off the tool. The man needed to learn how to accept help. “Take a deep breath and hold it, remaining perfectly still.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You know how to remove a bullet?”
“Of course. My life is surrounded by war, Zane.” She studied the wound. Circular and small. His vest had done the trick and protected him from a through-and-through. “Did you think I just hung out and did yoga all the time?”
He shrugged and winced as his shoulder pulled on the wound. More blood slid out. “I guess we don’t know much about each other’s real lives, now do we?”
“Apparently not.”
“I, ah, imagined you more involved in the intellectual side of the Realm. Planning and strategizing.”
Her upper lip twisted. “Didn’t see me getting my hands dirty, did you?”
“Bloody.” He leaned back in the chair and stiffened. “Your hands are bloody, sweetheart.”
“Not for the first time.” Probably not for the last, either. She took a deep breath to settle herself and slowly probed inside the wound, trying to get a good grip on the bullet.
Zane didn’t twitch. Only watched her with that thoughtful gaze that flared all her girly parts to life.
As gently as possible, she drew out the first bullet. While she winced, he didn’t move, although his tissue tore. So she went to work on the second bullet. “You’re doing great,” she murmured.
He gripped the table. “I checked on your family. No deaths after the attack this morning. Everybody is fine.”
Relief caught in her solar plexus, and she stopped probing until her hands regained steadiness. “Are you sure?” Her voice thickened.
“I’m sure.” He reached up with his free hand and brushed a curl off her cheek.
Thank God. She blinked back tears and kept working. Even though the scent of copper hung in the air, and the sense of danger threaded the oxygen, intimacy filtered through the small cabin and kept her voice soft. They were alone in the middle of nowhere. Although administering first aid, her body began to hum from his nearness. She struggled to find something to talk about. “The demons in rafts shot a mental attack up at us. You countered the pain and terrible images for me?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She nodded and forced herself to remain calm. “Can you attack minds?”
“I can, but I choose not to rip into people’s brains.” His voice lowered a little on the last.
“So if you wanted, you could crush my mind.” Although she trusted him, the idea of anyone holding that kind of power stole her breath and set her nerves on alert.
