Tigress (Night Hawk Series) (17 page)

Chapter
Thirty-Seven

My eyes opened to a cloth wiping my forehead and I focused on the owner of the hand. Valerie smiled down at me.

“Michael wasn’t able to heal you completely. He stopped the bleeding, but you’re going to have a scar.”

“Damian?” I asked, pushing the cloth away. Sitting up wasn’t as easy as I assumed and when the dizziness gripped me, Valerie offered a hand to steady me.

“He’s in your bedroom,” she whispered.

“Where is Michael?”

Valerie bit her lip and shrugged. “He said he needed to recharge and left me
to watch over both of you.”

I could tell from her tone, she wasn’t very happy with our winged grandfather. I could only guess where an archangel went to recharge and I looked up at the ceiling. Michael
must have gone back home to heaven and I sighed.

“Did he say anything about Lucifer?”

Valerie sent a rueful smile in my direction. “He said to tell you that Eve did as much damage as you had before she died, so you’ve got some time.”

I closed my eyes and let out a breath before meeting her gaze. “How long have we...” I couldn’t formulate the words and she just offered a smile.

“You’ve been in and out for a few days, but this is the first time you’ve been lucid.” Valerie picked up the cup from the coffee table and offered it to me. I took it and was rewarded with the cool tartness of an orange-pineapple blend.

After a few sips, I handed it back to her.

“Can you take me to see him?”

Valerie hesitated and met my gaze. “He doesn’t look that great,” she said.

After what I witnessed at the house, I’d say he probably looked about as appealing as one of the victims of a nuclear holocaust, but I needed to see him, to touch him, to make sure he still drew a breath. I gave a curt nod and pushed to my feet.

Valerie took hold of my elbow and steadied me as she led me to my bedroom. The images playing in my head of what might be beyond the door made my feet as heavy as brick slabs and I forced myself forward. Valerie pushed the door open and stayed in the entry. I met her gaze, then took a deep breath and stepped into the room.

I wasn’t prepared for the sight in front of me. My gaze landed on Damian painted in sunlight; his torso visible and devoid of any evidence of Lucifer’s torture. Scar-free and beautiful under a thick sheen of sweat and my hand drew over my mouth, covering the gasp of surprise.

Bags of ice rested along his body and an I.V. drip hung from a metal rod next to the bed. I followed the line of clear liquid and my gaze landed on his wrist.

His bound wrist. Both arms were bound in soft restraints that reminded me of those in a mental institution and I glanced over my shoulder at Valerie, cocking an eyebrow in a silent question.

“We strapped him down so he wouldn’t hurt himself,” she said, answering my question before I could voice it.

“Oh,” I whispered and shuffled across the floor with the last of my energy. The exertion took what little strength I had, sapping it from my bones and I collapsed in the soft cushioned chair next to the bed.

I have no idea how long I stared at his perfect form
, still trying to piece together all that had happened since Lilith shot me with the antidote. Slowly, I reached for his hand, but the heat radiating from him sent my blood racing. My heart tripped in my chest and fear dried my mouth. No human could radiate that much heat and I shot my gaze to Valerie.

“Fever?” I asked, knowing it was an asinine question, but looking for confirmation anyway.

Valerie just nodded.

“How high?”

“Last I checked, he was at one hundred and five, which is much better than when Michael first brought him in.” She stepped into the room. “I’ve got enough intravenous drips to last a month and if he hasn’t woken by then, I’ll have to figure out how to get more.”

I dropped my gaze to my fingertips for a moment, wondering if my touch would spawn angry blisters like before. Dread encompassed me and I reached for his hand again, hesitating before I touched his hot skin. Holding my breath, I dropped my hand on top of his and glanced at his slack face for a reaction, any reaction, and received nothing.

When I pulled my hand away, my gaze locked at his unblemished skin and my heart started a drum beat in my chest that I felt through my entire form. He wasn’t allergic to my touch anymore. I’m not sure if it was the sob that broke from my chest or the look on my face that set Valerie in motion, but I launched myself on top of Damian, planting kisses from his forehead all the way down his face, leaving a trail of tears along my frantic path.

“Naomi, he’s burning up and your body heat isn’t going to help,” Valerie whispered after a few minutes of my emotional display.

I turned toward her. Of all the people in the world, she had to understand what the ability to touch him without harm meant to me. She had to understand my need to be near him right now, but all I saw was her soft concern along with the underlying warning.

“I’ll make you a deal, if he starts the chills again, you can warm him, okay?”

Begrudgingly, I pulled myself off his prone form and slid back into the chair. Valerie picked up his wrist and checked his pulse. “This isn’t covered in medical school,” she said with a hint of a smile and met my gaze. “I’m not sure what to do with him beyond keeping him hydrated and keeping his fever in check.”

I sighed. “How much school have you missed?”

“I’m on break until Monday, so your timing worked out. Once you get your bearings, I’ll need to go over what you need to do when I go back to class.”

“Did Michael say when he should wake up?”

Valerie met my gaze but she didn’t speak. Not at first, and then she sighed.

“Michael didn’t know if he’d ever wake up.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight - Damien

I opened my eyes and squinted, disoriented.

Moving my head brought a fresh wave of pain and I closed my eyes against the brightness. A cool breeze swept over my skin and I curled tighter into a ball, my stomach clenched and I
ground my teeth against the groan that formed in my throat.

I must be in hell, I thought but the
soft stroke of fingers that ran across my forehead and into my hair dulling the throbbing pain in my temple, told me otherwise and I chanced opening one eye.

Naomi, smiled down at me in a brightly lit room.

“Hey, babe,” she whispered and my gaze dropped to the bandage on her throat and then back to her dark and concerned eyes.

I tried to move, but my muscles protested, screaming in a new kind of agony.

Her hand came to rest on my chest and I found the strength to lift my head for a moment and stare at the contact. Her hand on my skin and my gaze snapped back to hers, but not before the fact my chest was clear of all scars registered. My head fell back onto the soft down and I blinked the room into focus.

My
breath locked in my throat at the yellow streaks of sunshine filling the room, creating patterns on the wall and creeping onto the bed. Millenniums of instinct took over and fear gripped my muscles, forcing them into action. I pushed myself into a sitting position, right into the shard of light and I tensed, waiting for the pain.

Expectations of burning flashed over my skin, creating a wetness that I didn’t
comprehend, but no fire, no stench of burning flesh and then I realized Naomi was speaking, and her hands were on my shoulders, pushing me back into the bed.

Neither the sun nor her touch burned and
my jaw dropped with surprise. It had been over two thousand years since the sun hit my face and the only logical explanation popped out in the form of a question.

“Is this heaven?”

Her chuckle and the sparkle in her eyes gave me pause and then she shook my head. “No, sweetheart, this isn’t heaven and the last few weeks have been a nightmare. I thought I lost you at least a dozen times.” Her eyes filled with tears and she pulled me into a fierce hug that made me wince.

“What the hell happened?” I asked when she broke free.

“Do you remember biting me?”

I shivered and nodded. I had intended to drain the life from her so Lucifer wouldn’t get the chance to defile her, but he caught onto that and yanked her from my lips. I barely hung on because
, while her blood was as sweet as I remembered, it roasted my insides more than a straight fifth of Jack Daniels.

“I remember,” I said and reached up running my fingers over the bandage. It was her turn to wince and I pulled my hand away. “But that still doesn’t explain this?” I moved my fingers into the sunlight.

“I guess my blood delivered the cure without killing you.”

The cure?

My hands flew to my face expecting a wrinkled mass of skin, but all I felt was the scratch of wiry hair. I sent a question in her direction.

“Three weeks in a coma,” she whispered and ran her hand down my cheek. “You’ve got a pretty thick layer of stubble.”

All I could think about was Lilith’s warning that the cure ages vampires and I swallowed the growing sphere of dread.

“How old...” I couldn’t finish and my gaze dropped to my hands. They didn’t seem to have aged, but the way my body felt, who the hell knew.

“You haven’t aged a day. You’re still twenty-five.”

The shock hit harder than I could handle and I forced my legs over the side of the bed. I needed to see and she seemed to understand, coming to my side and wrapping her arm around my waist, she helped me to my feet. Every muscle ached and I nearly collapsed when I tried to take that first step but she held on.

When she crossed over the threshold of the bathroom and positioned me in front of the mirror, I stared at the disheveled image. The scraggly beard, the matted and greasy hair, the sweat stained shorts and the perfect unmarked chest.

My gaze traveled over my human image and landed on sharp blue eyes. The eyes that have gazed back at me from mirrors for the last two and a half millennia.
I glanced at her reflection and her beauty hadn’t diminished, in fact, it had increased ten-fold.

“You could use a shower,” she said and glanced up at me.

It had been close to five weeks since I held my wife in my arms and the fact she had her arm slung around me without burning pain accompanying it gave me enough strength to smile down at her.

“I’m not sure I have enough energy to take a shower alone,” I said and my voice sounded strange, thick and scratchy, but she just grinned and led me
into our shower.

I wondered if I would still be able to shift into the hawk the way she could still transform into a tiger and was about to ask, but she turned on the water and all other thought left me. I stood under that warm spray, my eyes closed and my hands limp at my side while she washed me with a loufa
h filled with my favorite musk body wash.

She even washed my hair and steadied me when the world began to spin. She made me sit on the stone bench while she carefully shaved the stubble from my cheeks and when her hands left me, I blinked my eyes open.

She ran a cloth over my cheeks and I pulled her into my arms, resting my head against her chest and listened to the strong and steady beat of her heart. A surge of emotions filtered through me, rendering me speechless and immobile with her in my grasp. Gratitude and fear kept me silent and holding my breath, sure if I let go and opened my eyes, I’d witness Lucifer doing unspeakable things to her.

That was the only thought that made sense. I lost it in the final seconds of life and instead of seeing the horror in front of me, I cooked up this fantasy to go into death with.

Her fingers caressed my scalp in slow soft circles and only the sound of running water accompanied us, not the horrific screams I imagined behind my tightly shut eyes.

“Damian,” she whispered.

I finally forced my eyes open and looked up into her dark gaze.

“We are alive,” she said and tilted my chin up. When her lips pressed gently to mine, I understood and the kiss went from the innocent peck it was meant
to be into the all-encompassing heated kiss of passion. Fueled by desire, I stood and pushed her against the back wall, my hands finding the places on her body that I longed to touch. Soon my mouth followed and her seductive purr filled the bathroom.

The End

ABOUT J.E. TAYLOR

J.E. Taylor is a writer, a publisher, an editor, a manuscript formatter, a mother, a wife and a business analyst, not necessarily in that order.
She first sat down to seriously write in February of 2007 after her daughter asked:

“Mom, if you could do anything, what would you do?”

From that moment on, she hasn’t looked back and now her writing resume includes over a dozen published novels along with several short stories on the virtual shelves.

In addition to being co-owner of
Novel Concept Publishing (
www.novelconceptpublishing
)
, Ms. Taylor also moonlights as a Senior Editor of Allegory (
www.allegoryezine.com
), an online venue for Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror. She has been known to edit a book or two and also offers her services judging writing contests for various RWA chapters.

She lives in Connecticut with her husband and two children and during the summer months enjoys her weekends on the shore in southern Maine.

Visit her at
www.jetaylor75.com