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He cursed under his breath, realizing just how close she had come to danger. For chrissake, she had actually gone after the Minion by herself. The thought chilled Lucan more than he'd like to admit.
"You need to promise me you'll be more careful," he said, knowing he was scolding but unwilling to bother with politeness when she might have gotten herself killed today. "If something like this happens again, you need to tell me right away."
"It's not going to happen again because it was my mistake. And I wasn't about to call you or anyone else at the station about this. Wouldn't they just love it if I phoned in to report that one of their file clerks was stalking me for no apparent reason?"
Shit. His lie about being a cop was tripping him up damned good now. Even worse, it might have put her in jeopardy if she'd called the station looking for "Detective Thorne" and attracted the attention of an embedded Minion instead.
"I'm going to give you my cell phone number. You can always reach me there. I want you to use it anytime, understand?"
She nodded as Lucan turned on the faucet, then ran clear water into his hands and over her silky, burnished waves.
Frustrated with himself, he grabbed a washcloth from an overhead shelf and thrust it down into the water. "Now let me see your knee."
She lifted her leg from under the flotilla of bubbles. Lucan held her foot in one palm, carefully washing the angry-looking abrasion. It was just a scrape, but it was bleeding again now that the warm water had soaked the wound. Lucan ground down hard on his jaw as the fragrant, scarlet threads wove a delicate trail down her skin and into the pristine foam of the bath.
He finished cleansing both of her injured knees, then gestured for her to let him attend her palms next. He didn't trust his voice to work when the combined one/two punch of Gabrielle's nude body and the scent of her fresh, trickling blood was slamming into his skull like a jackhammer.
With an economy of attention, he dabbed at the scrapes on her palms, painfully aware of her rich, dark gaze following his every movement, the pulse at her wrist beating quickly under the pressure of his fingertips.
She wanted him, too.
Lucan started to release her, but as her arm twisted slightly on its retreat, he spotted something troubling. His eyes lit at once on a series of faint marks that spoiled the flawless peach skin. The marks were scars, tiny slices cut into the underside of her forearms. And she had more on her thighs.
Razor cuts.
As if she'd endured repeated and hellish torture when she was little more than a girl. "Jesus Christ." He swiveled his head back to look at her, fury no doubt rampant in his expression. "Who did this to you?"
"It's not what you think."
He was fuming now, not about to let this one slide. "Tell me."
"It's nothing, really. Just forget - "
"Give me a name, goddamn it, and I swear, I will kill the son of a bitch with my bare hands - "
"I did it," she blurted out in a quiet rush of breath. "It was me. No one did this, just me."
"What?" Holding her fragile wrist in his hand, he turned her arm over once more so he could inspect the faded network of crisscrossing, purplish scars. "You did this? Why?"
She withdrew from his loose grasp and sank both arms under the water, as if to shield them from his further inspection.
Lucan swore low under his breath, and in a language he rarely spoke anymore. "How often, Gabrielle?"
"I don't know." She shrugged, avoiding his gaze now. "I haven't done it in a long time. I got over it."
"Is that why there's a knife lying in the sink downstairs?"
The look she gave him was pained and defensive. She didn't like him prying, no more than he would like it himself, but Lucan wanted to understand. He could hardly fathom what might drive her to dig a blade into her own flesh.
Over and over and over again.
She scowled, staring at the dissipating suds surrounding her. "Look, can we just drop the subject? I really don't want to talk about - "
"Maybe you should talk about it."
"Oh, sure." Her small laugh held an edge of irony. "Is this the part where you suggest I need to see a shrink, Detective Thorne? Maybe go someplace where I can be put in a medicated stupor and under a doctor's close watch for my own good?"
"Did that happen to you?"
