There were so many facets of that watchful gaze. Sometimes it was creepy and invasive and judgmental. Other times it was so damned sexy, I felt it in places he never physically touched. But it was always steady, as if the only thing that mattered to him was reading my thoughts and predicting my actions.
Jesse Beckett was a strange one, mercurial in his moods, precarious in his affection for me. If I didn’t share his belief in his visions, I’d question his mental health. Maybe I should question it. I mean, I used to see visions too, but it had been months, and now I wondered if it was all just a coping mechanism for the loss of my children.
How was Jesse coping with this fucked up world?
As he filled the vial with my blood, his eyes didn’t waver from mine. His strong cheekbones formed a dramatic ledge for that deep-set glare. The vivid copper of his irises churned with gold flecks, sucking me in. He was so damned hypnotic.
I sat taller and blinked to break the trance. “Have your visions changed? Did you really think I would die out there?”
He looked down and removed the syringe, lips pinched, eyes hidden by his lashes.
“Awesome.” I jerked my arm from his grip and pressed a finger against the tiny well of crimson. “Great talk. We should do this more often.”
On the other side of the room, Amos answered Michio’s questions. No, he hadn’t encountered other nymphs. Yes, this was a remote area. No, he hadn’t left the reserve in two years. Evidently, it was Jackson who captured all the aphids, luring them into the cages to unleash on trespassers. And Jackson made all the supply runs, which didn’t give me a lot of hope for Amos’ ability to protect and care for a cured woman.
Jesse loaded the vial of blood in the gun and stepped toward Michio. Halfway there, he stopped and walked back. Without pausing to catch his breath—to let me catch my breath—he leaned over my lap and braced his arms on either side of mine.
Holy shit, he was close. His legs pressed against mine, his full lips a kiss away. My lungs, my muscles, everything froze up.
“Just because I know how you’re supposed to die,” he whispered against my gaping mouth, “doesn’t mean I know how often or badly you’ll be injured between now and then.”
My heart thumped wildly at his words, his proximity, and the shock of it all coming at me at once. He glanced at Roark, who glared at the doorway as if it were filled with aphids. It wasn’t. That was Roark pretending not to listen.
Jesse bent closer, drugging my inhales with his woodsy scent and shoving his sexual energy, frustration, whatever this was in my face as his lips brushed my ear. “I’m not going to let you die, Evie. We won’t let you die. It’s time you start depending on us.”
I understood what he was saying, but maybe he didn’t realize just how vital his safety was to my peace of mind? “I get it, but—”
“I want more.” He lifted his hand to cup my cheek but drew it back before he made contact.
“More?” Dependency? Touching? Mixed signals and sexual frustration bounced all over the damned place, spinning my head into a fog of What the fuck?
“You’re not the only one affected by this.” He gestured between us and strode off, holding the dart gun out to Michio.
I growled low in my throat. Typical Jesse, making cryptic declarations and leaving too many questions at the most inopportune time and place to ask them.
Michio accepted the dart gun and held it up for Amos’ inspection. “This is blood, not a bullet. It won’t hurt your nymph.”
He went on, explaining how the healing process worked as my mind replayed the last few minutes.
Jesse made me feel like a fool. My hand clenched. I did depend on them. Like an equal. I pulled my weight, dammit. We all did.
Roark remained silent beside me. He might’ve been listening to Michio’s conversation with Amos, but I felt the weight of his eyes urging me to talk.
I kept my voice hushed beneath the medical chit-chat across the room. “I was married to an overprotective man for fifteen years.”
His hand settled on my thigh and squeezed. “I know, love.”
Yeah, they all knew. I’d spoken of Joel often. “Living with Joel, I had two choices: become a pushover or push back.”
“A pushover wouldn’t have survived out there alone as long as ye did.”
Agreed. Marriage to Joel made me stubborn, but it also toughened me enough to survive. “Dependency is dangerous, Roark.” Truth was, I was scared. Reliance scared me. Didn’t matter how strong and brave my guardians were. “You’re not bulletproof either. Or aphid-proof or fall-off-a-cliff-proof.” Considering how people had died trying to protect me, I had every right to continue training in battle and protecting myself. And every opportunity I got to protect my guardians was a chance I’d take. “Too many dangers could take you away and leave me alone again.”