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All he could do was drop the arm he had around Vishous’s shoulders and put his hands out—and the next thing he knew, she was on him, tackling him and asking was he okay, and how could she help him, and did he need a doctor.
It was a greeting unlike any he had ever had, so heartfelt, and kind, and… loving.
Except as she made contact with the burns on his back, he jerked with a hiss.
Jumping free, Anne clasped her hands over her mouth and talked through them. “You do need a doctor—”
“No, it’s not that bad—”
“The healer is coming,” Vishous cut in.
Darius glared at the brother. “No, Havers is not—”
Vishous made yapping signs with his free hand as he went over to the phone and picked up the receiver.
“Vishous, I don’t need a doctor.” The middle finger that paused in its dialing and came back at him was vulgar and unnecessary. “Excuse me, but I do not—”
Anne stepped in front of him. “Let’s sit you down.”
“I’m fine—”
Unfortunately, his balance took a breather at that point, and as he listed, he grabbed on to what was in front of him. Which was her. As she grunted, she managed to keep him from smacking the floor on his second dead faint of the night, her body bracing against his heavy weight and then easing him down until he was sprawled faceup in front of the refrigerator.
Not good. The faceup shit was not good.
Wheezing from the pain, he rolled over, and he knew the exact moment when she saw his back.
“Oh, my God!”
Well, weren’t they a match made in heaven. She was covered with contusions, and he was sporting fire damage. Voila! True love.
Throwing out his hand, he took her palm in his and pulled her in close. As their eyes met, he said, “Just stay with me. It looks worse than it feels and it’ll be gone by morning. I fed a week ago.”
Her face registered confusion, but his eyes were fluttering and he had to concentrate to just stay conscious. So he couldn’t begin to guess what had disconcerted her.
“Talk to him,” Vishous ordered as he cupped the receiver’s bottom. “Just… for chrissakes, just talk to the fool—hey, yeah. I need the healer to come to Darius’s. Right now.”
Anne opened her mouth. Closed it. And in the silence, Darius was vaguely aware that he’d given something away, shared something that he shouldn’t have. But he couldn’t remember what he’d said—and then he let that worry go: The next thing he knew, Anne stretched out with him and put her head on the crook of her arm. Staring into his eyes, she stroked his face.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.” He smiled through the pain. “You know, we really have to stop meeting like this. In the middle of a catastrophe, that is.”
Her fingertips were light on his jaw. On his hair. “I couldn’t agree more. But I’m glad I’m here.”
“So am I.” He lowered his voice. “I didn’t think things were going to turn out like this.”
“You smell like gasoline.”
“I’m sorry—”
“No, no, don’t apologize—” She glanced up and frowned. Then sat up. “Oh. Oh…”
When Darius followed the direction of her attention, he could only shake his head and wonder how things could possibly get more complicated: Havers, the species healer, had entered the kitchen in a rush. With his black bag of medical crap, and his trademark tortoiseshell glasses and bow tie, he looked like a college professor in search of a lectern, all officious and competent—yet Darius had never liked him. Maybe it was the bad blood with Wrath, who was supposed to be mated unto the male’s sister, but who had refused to claim her.
Or maybe it was something else. Like the guy was an aristocratic prick.
“I’m fine,” Darius announced as he braced himself for some kind of physical exam.
Damn it, this was not how he’d wanted any of the night to go—
Abruptly, he became aware that the healer was staring at Anne, not him or his injuries. Before Darius could get aggressive, however, Vishous stepped in to solve the yes-she’s-a-human-but-it’s—
“None of your business,” the brother snapped. “Now treat him before I make you.”
What a mess, Darius thought.
That was the last cognition he had as Havers knelt down behind him, examined the BBQ that was now his back—and started cleaning all that raw meat. So yeah, not a lot of time for musing as he became busy trying not to throw up from the pain.
The last thing he wanted was to look like a pussy in front of the likes of Anne.
He was supposed to be the protector… not the protected.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Anne stayed through the whole thing, lying on the kitchen floor with Darius, holding his hands as he went through the brutal debridement process. The smell of faded gasoline, burned flesh, and now astringent was something she was never going to forget. In fact, the experience was so singular that she didn’t dwell on the weird apparition and the strange way the doctor had looked at her and that, as first dates went, this was not on any scale, anywhere.
