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I follow him to the infirmary, and he's all business, tending to my wounded shoulder with skill and care. But I can't ignore the intensity in his gaze, the way he looks at me like he's trying to figure me out. I get another shot of this strange connection between us, like we're two lost souls drawn together by some unseen force.
It’s downright strange for me to be this aware, this captivated by a man. I rarely find real people attractive—there's that small crush I had in high school and my undeniable obsession with Chris Hemsworth. Yet, with this guy right beside me, touching my skin, Chris might as well be Steve Buscemi. And unlike any other man I’ve met, he's not trying to hit on me. I’ve mistaken idle curiosity for desire. In fact, I'm getting the distinct feeling that he's not even remotely interested, that I'm just another body in the healthcare meat market. That should make me very happy but instead it pisses me off.
But the longer I spend with him, the more I want to know about him and the darkness surrounding him. I swallow down a sigh as my rational mind tries to talk some sense to me. I'm scared of what I might find. This guy just may have more baggage than I do. I’m scared of getting too close, of letting someone in. Because even the nice guys are only nice until they try to bang me. But at the same time, I can't deny the pull toward him, the way he makes me feel seen and understood.
But he’s not like the other guys, not even Tom, the only guy I’ve ever had a relationship with. I’d adored Tom at first. He’d been nice to me and told me he loved me. He’d even moved in with me for a while. But he’d turned out to be a fucked-up drunk still in love with the wife he neglected to tell me about and I’d kicked his ass out. ES took great pleasure gloating to me, over and over, just like he had in my teens, that Tom’s deceit was the best someone like me deserved.
Maybe Jaden is no different. Maybe I’m looking at the world through the Pollyanna glasses everyone accuses me of wearing. Absently, more out of habit than anything, I finger my glasses up the bridge of my nose as I inhale his scent. My senses come alive, and I'm hit with a whirlwind of scents mingling around him. It's like nothing I've ever experienced before. His unique musk envelops me, a subtle blend of strength and allure that's both enticing and intimidating.
But there's more to it—a mysterious undercurrent that I can't quite place. A faint whiff of something almost earthy, a woodsy note that reminds me of lying in a hammock in the woods, with a hint of spice, like the smell of a fresh cup of coffee. His smell is so complex, and yet so familiar, like he is. Like it's part of me.
Yet, beneath the inviting aroma, there's a faint undertone of danger—a sensation of static electricity lingering in the air. It's the scent of someone who has walked through fire, carrying the weight of his past with him, like a storm on the horizon that hasn't fully unleashed its power.
The mixture is intoxicating and unsettling, drawing me in and pushing me away simultaneously. I can't help but be drawn to it, to him, despite the warning signals that flash in my mind. Jaden's smell is a contradiction—a captivating puzzle that entices and warns, leaving me curious and cautious all at once.
As he finishes tending to my shoulder, I find myself drawn to him, wanting to comfort him, to take away whatever pain he's carrying inside. But I don't know how, and I'm scared of what I might uncover if I dig too deep. All I can do is offer him a small smile, a silent promise that I'll be there for him, just like he's been there for me . . . so far. And maybe, just maybe, together we can find a way to heal each other's wounds and find the light in the darkness. Clearly, I’ve lost my mind. I just hope and pray that this isn’t another case of my eternal optimism that’s going to turn around and bite me in the ass.
He tidies up the infirmary in that OCD way of every doctor I've ever seen, with precise and methodical movements. I watch him without saying a word, feeling a mix of frustration and fascination. He doesn't look at me, but his intense aura still lingers in the room, pulling me in like a moth to a flame.
“I don't do needy, and I don't do clingy.” Out of fucking nowhere he makes this announcement while he braces his hands on the edge of the gurney as he frowns down at it. His words sting, a not-so-subtle warning to keep my distance. But beneath the tough exterior, I sense his internal battle, a desire to push me away and a longing to keep me close.
He heaves a deep sigh, and without another word, he turns and marches his tight ass into the other room, leaving me with a swirl of emotions. I don't know what to make of him, and the way he alternates between hot and cold is enough to drive anyone crazy.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Frustration surges through me as I yell after his retreating back. And what the fuck difference does it make to me anyway what he does? I plan to stay just long enough to find out where Summer is, and then I’m out of here. There's no place for a connection between us in my life. I'll be gone like a gust of wind.
But even as I tell myself this, part of me can't deny my magnetic pull toward him. It's like I'm caught in a dark web, unable to break free. As much as he wants to push me away, the strange link between us tells me that he wants me to stay just as badly. His conflict mirrors my own, and like me, there's more to this man than meets the eye. I can’t shake the feeling that I need to find out more.
With a heavy sigh, I put my weighty thoughts aside for now. The priority is finding Summer and getting the hell out of here. But as I leave the infirmary and step back into the main room, I can't help but feel that my life has taken a dangerous turn. Jaden may be a storm of darkness, but there's a glimmer of something else hidden beneath the surface, something I can't quite put my finger on.
As I try to figure out my next move, uncertainty gnaws at me, and I know that nothing in my life will ever be the same again. The puzzling man with the tight ass has drawn me into his world of shadows, and there's no escaping it now. But this bond between us, this tangible pull of sensations and emotions, keeps growing stronger; right now, it's screaming that he needs someone. Hell, I don’t want that responsibility... or maybe, deep down, I do? My heart's thudding against my chest, tangled in fear and curiosity about the road ahead.
9
JADEN
My emotions are a raging tempest, relentlessly tearing at my soul. The aftermath of the killing left me battered, physically and emotionally. My angelic powers have been pushed to the limit, and now, I'm left feeling drained and vulnerable. It's like walking on a tightrope, trying to balance the vigilante seeking justice with the desperate need to care for myself.
Rayne's presence is a double-edged sword, the embodiment of both comfort and fear. Ever since I met her two days ago, I've been fighting to shut out her energy, her emotions. They keep hammering at my defenses, but I can't let myself get consumed by them. My powers are tied to my emotions, and I know that letting her in would replenish me, but the risk is too great.
Yet I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something very special about her. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she’s been casting a spell over me. But that’s simply not possible. She’s a mortal and they don’t have superpowers despite what the comic book franchises would have us believe. I know because the celestials told me when they made me an avenging angel. Maybe this is their way of telling me I have no fucking choice in the matter of protecting Rayne. And none of that answers the larger questions rolling around inside of my psyche—why am I here on this earth? What is my purpose? Who am I? Questions that fuck me up every minute of every day.
Fuck. As usual, nothing in my fucking head makes sense. And something about Rayne threatens my darkness. The memories of my past haunt me like malevolent ghosts, threatening to shatter the fragile peace I've built around my heart. For the first time ever, I want to share my pain . . . with Rayne, to let her in, but the vulnerability terrifies me. Even the thought of cracking open that cesspool a hair makes every last cell in my body scream. Too bad this new gift for healing doesn’t extend to obliterating the mental anguish that is my life. But my angelic powers, my greatest strength, are also my biggest weakness. I can’t heal myself and the more I use them, the more I need them replenished.
Strangely, I can’t completely shut Rayne’s presence out, no matter how deep into the abyss I go. It’s as if a tiny filament of her light radiates in the background, letting me know that when I’m ready, she’ll make it safe for me to come out and play. No matter how feisty she appears, I sense a calmness deep within her that soothes me. But there’s also her tenacity that leaves no doubt she’ll try to break through my walls like a hound on a scent, another reason I can't let her too close. The ache in my head intensifies, a blinding headache washing over me, as my mind tries to drown out the thoughts and memories I can't bear to face. I clutch my temples, trying to blot out the darkness, but it claws at me relentlessly.
The physician in me knows I need rest, to recharge my depleted powers, but the vigilante inside pushes me to keep going, to keep fighting for justice. To obliterate Viper from this planet for what he’s done to Rayne and Summer. It's a constant battle, tearing at my soul with every heartbeat.
You’re losing it, Jaden. I know it, but I can’t do a fucking thing about it but retreat to my fortress of solitude, the fortress of self-imposed isolation with impenetrable walls where I escape. Impenetrable until now because try as I might, I can’t shut out the thread of light coming from Rayne. It’s as if in the midst of my turmoil, she remains a beacon of light, a soothing balm to my fractured spirit.
Hurt because of my withdrawal radiates from her like heat waves on a scorching summer day, and a wash of guilt gnaws at me like a relentless predator. I want to be the one to mend her wounds, but I'm too afraid of inflicting deeper scars—whether on myself or her remains an open question.
The TV flickers with mindless images, the background noise filling the racket in my mind. It's a pathetic attempt to numb the pain, to escape the demons clawing at my memories. But they persist, haunting me like a never-ending nightmare.
For the first time in forever, I want, no crave, a woman’s body. Because that’s all that this can be, sex. Because I don’t do love. I can’t do love. And caring leads to love. The thought surfaces, unbidden: Maybe you can be friends. I'm not sure where it stems from, and I take a beat to consider it. Even Rayne's friendship is a gift I'm unworthy of, a treasure that threatens to slip through my fingers like sand. I can't give her the friendship she deserves when I'm grappling with the darkness of my past. How can I know her fully when I'm still running from my own demons? And besides, she thinks I’m the enemy.
As the night stretches on, my internal battle rages, tearing at the fabric of my being while I absentmindedly channel surf.
"Better eat." Rayne's tone has that firm edge, the kind that brooks no argument, as she sets a plate on my lap. I feel this little spark of defiance from her through our connection, as if she's silently daring me to call her out for taking the reins. Truth be told, I'm too drained to push back. Plus, there's a part of me that appreciates her stepping in, like she just knows I need her right now.
