But when she took a step, she winced, her hand flying to her back again. That was it. The last thread of his restraint snapped.
“Enough.” He bent, sweeping her up into his arms before she could protest. She let out a small gasp, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as the warm swell of her stomach pressed against him.
“Dr. Jackson! Put me down this instant.”
“Victor,” he said, the name escaping him without his permission. “My name is Victor.”
She stilled against him, her eyes searching his face.
“Victor,” she whispered, and the sound of his name on her lips threatened to destroy what was left of his control.
He grabbed her coat and bag, then strode towards the stairs. She weighed nothing in his arms, a fragile, precious burden. Hyde was a roaring furnace in his chest, triumphant and fiercely protective.
“The door,” he said. “Could you get the light?”
She stretched out a hand, fumbling for the pull chain. The basement was immediately plunged into near darkness, the only illumination coming from the hallway above, but his eyes—Hyde’s eyes—automatically adjusted. He carried her up the stairs as carefully if she were made of spun glass. He didn’t stop until he reached the lobby, setting her gently on her feet beside the heavy oak door.
Her body brushed against his as she found her balance, and her scent washed over him again, making his mouth water. He could feel the rise and fall of her breath, see the faint pulse beating in the hollow of her throat. The urge to lower his head, to taste her skin, was so powerful it was like a physical pain.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice soft. “My back does feel better.”
“You shouldn’t have been down there to begin with,” he said, the gruffness returning, a shield against the dangerous softness he felt. “If I find you working in that basement again?—”
“You’ll what? Have me arrested for excessive organization?” She raised an eyebrow, a hint of her fire returning. “You can’t keep me from doing my job, Victor.”
The sound of his name again. It was an invitation, a challenge, and Hyde surged forward, his eyes flashing green.
“Don’t test me,” he said, his voice low and rough, more Hyde than Victor.
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t flinch. She held his gaze, her own expression unreadable. For a long moment, the world narrowed to the space between them.
“I should go,” she whispered, breaking the spell.
She took a step back, her hand unconsciously going to her stomach in a protective gesture that made something deep inside him ache. He bit back the urge to continue arguing and helped her into her too small coat, ignoring Hyde’s demand that they keep her warm.
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I insist.” He fell into step beside her as they stepped out into the cool evening air. The Town Square was unusually quiet, deserted in the warm, golden glow of the streetlamps. The river flowed past the edge of the square, glittering in the moonlight, and the scent of woodsmoke hung in the air. Her car was parked close to the cafe, a small, sensible sedan that looked ridiculously fragile in a world of trolls and minotaurs.
She clicked the unlock button, the lights flashing. Before he could open her door, she turned to face him, staring up at him for a long moment. She was so close, and yet so impossibly far away. He could hear laughter and voices from inside the cafe, but they only deepened the silence around them before she finally spoke.
“Victor… I appreciate your concern, but I’m not a fragile flower. I’m pregnant. Women have been doing this for millennia. I’m not going to break.”
He didn’t know how to explain the feeling—that she wasn’t just a patient, that Hyde saw her as someone who needed to be protected at all costs. He didn’t have the words. All he had was the growl in his chest and the overwhelming urge to shield her from the world. He managed a sharp nod.
“Good night, Chloe,” he said, his voice strained.
He opened the door for her, then stood back, his hands clenched at his sides. She slid into the driver’s seat, her movements stiff. He waited until she had started the engine, then watched until the red taillights disappeared down the street.
He stood there for a long time, alone in the quiet square, until the sound of a door opening forced him to move. The last thing he wanted was to talk to anyone, not with Hyde so close to the surface. He returned to his house but he didn’t go to the basement to run. He went straight to the study and poured himself a generous three fingers of whiskey. He stared at the fire until the glass was empty, replaying every moment of their encounter, the feel of her body against his still branded on his skin.
Hyde refused to settle, restlessly prowling the confines of his mind, and he was terribly afraid he wouldn’t be able to keep him locked away for long. Not with Chloe in town.
CHAPTER 6
The archives smelled like dust, old paper, and secrets waiting to be discovered.
