His fingers twitched, and he curled them into fists to keep from seeing if it felt as soft as it looked.
He took a quiet step into his room without meaning to, but the pull of a sleeping woman in his bed was too much to ignore—too strong to resist.
He didn’t want to wake her, not when she looked like that.
Still, he couldn’t stop himself from moving closer.
* * * * *
Jolie didn’t want to believe the tight feeling in her chest had anything to do with Archer.
She’d felt it when he pulled her off that tower. When he brought her breakfast and when he returned with that romance novel.
The only thing those moments had in common…was him.
He stood in the doorway, dark hair mussed as if he’d just run his fingers through it—or pulled off a helmet. His shirt clung to his broad chest and—
She gasped. “You’re covered in blood!”
She leaped off the bed and crossed the room to him, knowing from experience time was of the essence when it came to any wound.
She reached for the hem of his shirt, but before she could carefully peel the cloth off whatever injury lurked beneath, he lashed his fingers around her wrist.
Snapping her gaze to his, she searched his face for signs of pain. What she spotted in those deep blue eyes was the furthest thing from pain.
It looked almost like…
She shook her head. She was imagining things. Archer was injured and required medical attention. He might even be delirious.
Or under the control of aliens.
She studied the smear of sticky red blood across his shirt and more oozing from his knuckle. A darker blotch spread at his ribs.
She had to help him—now.
She gripped him by the wrist and tugged him out the door. He must be weak since he followed so easily.
She tossed a look at him over her shoulder. “Do you know what year it is?”
“Yes.” Amusement tinged his tone.
“Well, what is it?” Her own was edged with impatience. They rounded a corner and the hallway spilled into the common area, where the entire team was congregated.
All bleeding.
She released Archer’s arm and jabbed a finger at the closest chair. “You—sit.”
His head rocked at her command. Awed expressions fluttered over several of the guys’ faces.
“You. You.” She pointed at two more. “Sit down before you fall down.”
She swung toward a tall man sporting a cut bleeding freely down his face. “That’s gonna need stitches. And it’s close enough to your temple that you might be concussed.”
A cocky grin spread over his face. “I’d like to see the man who could drop me with a little concussion.”
When she looked up and saw no one was sitting like she told them to, she snapped, “Sit!”
Three butts dropped into chairs, leaving only Archer on his feet with a gleam in his eyes and a bad-boy smile lurking at thecorner of his hard lips. Jolie faltered at the sight, then steeled her spine.
