Dark Guardian (Dark 9)

Jaxon Montgomery snapped the clip into her handgun and glared at her partner. "This is a setup, Barry. I can smell it. It's amazing to me that you don't have a clue. Where's your sixth sense? I thought men were supposed to have some kind of built-in survival instinct."

Barry Radcliff snorted derisively. "You're the one leading the party, honey, and we're all following you."

"My point, partner. You have no sense of self-preservation." Jaxx threw him a teasing grin over her shoulder. "The entire lot of you are worthless."

"True, but we have good taste. You look great from behind. We're men, honey - we can't help the hormones."

"Is that your excuse? Hormones running amok? I thought you liked living on the edge, you gung-ho kamikaze type daredevils."

"That's you. We just go along to pull your cute little butt out of all the trouble you get into," Barry returned. He glanced at his watch. "You've got to decide, Jaxx. Do we try it or call it off?"

Jaxx closed off her mind to everything - the darkness of the night, the biting cold, the adrenaline surging in her blood, needing action. The warehouse was too easily accessible; no way could they search the upper lofts without exposing themselves. She had never been all that happy with the informant. Everything in her screamed it was a setup and she and her fellow police officers were walking into an ambush.

Without hesitation she moved her mouth over the tiny radio. "Abort, guys. I want all of you to pull back and out. Signal when clear. Barry and I will cover until we hear from you. Go now."

"That strong?" She could hear the grin in Barry's voice. "Wonder woman."

"Oh, shut up," she replied rudely, her voice mild but edged with worry. Her eyes were restless, constantly moving, sweeping the entire area around them. The feeling of danger was intensifying.

The tiny receiver in her ear crackled. "Are we going to let a woman losing her nerve cost us the biggest bust in history?" That was the new guy. The one who had been placed on her team against her will. The one who had some kind of political pull in the department and was on his way up. Benton. Craig Benton.

"Stand down, Benton. That's an order. We can argue over it later," Jaxx commanded, but she knew, with a sinking heart, that he was the cause of the inner warnings shrieking at her. Benton wanted to be a hero. But there was no room for heroes in her line of work.

Barry was swearing beside her, his body already rigid. He knew it as well as she did. Barry had been her partner long enough to know that when Jaxx said there was trouble, there was hell out there. "He's going in. He's going in. I see him at the side door."

"Fall back, Barry," Jaxx snapped, already moving forward. "I'll try to pull him out. You get the rest of the world down here, because there's going to be a war. Keep our guys out of there until we have help. It's an ambush."

She was so small and slender, dressed in her dark clothes and cap, Barry could barely make her out in the darkness of the night. She never made a sound when she moved. It was eerie. He found himself continually glancing at her to assure himself she was with him. Now he moved, too. No way was his partner going into that building without him. He issued the orders, called in the backup, but he followed her. He told himself it had nothing to do with Jaxx Montgomery and everything to do with partnership. It had nothing to do with love and everything to do with the job.

"You should see this place," the radio crackled in their ears. "Get in here. It's loaded with enough chemicals to blow up half the city."

"You idiot, it's loaded with enough chemicals to blow up the building with you in it. Now get the hell out of there." It was Jaxx at her best. Her voice was soft and cutting, a whip of pure contempt. Anyone hearing that voice became a believer.

Craig Benton glanced uneasily to his right and then his left. The place suddenly gave him the creeps. He began a slow retreat, backing toward the door. At once something bit at his leg, high and ugly, knocking him backward and down. He found himself on the cold cement floor, staring up at the loft. The place remained silent. He put his hand down to touch his leg and found a mush of raw hamburger. He screamed. "I'm hit, I'm hit! Oh, God, I'm hit!"

Jaxon would have gone through the door first, but Barry slammed his shoulder into her, knocking her slight figure to the side. He dove into the warehouse, rolling to his right, looking for cover of any kind. He heard the whine of bullets as they zipped past him and embedded themselves in the crate behind him. He thought he got off a warning to Jaxx, but he couldn't be sure as he crawled toward Benton. Things were happening too fast, and his vision had narrowed toward his purpose - pulling out the stupid kid and getting the hell out of there.

He made it to Benton. "Shut up," he snapped. Did the rookie have to be as big as a linebacker? Dragging him out of there was going to be difficult, and if Craig kept screaming, he was going to shoot the rookie himself. "Let's go." He caught Benton under the arms, tried to stay low and behind cover, and began to make his way back toward the door. It was a long way. They were spraying the area with bullets now and deliberately sweeping the chemicals, so explosions were going off all over the place. Fires broke out. He felt the sting of the first hit on his scalp. The second was well placed. His left arm went numb, and he dropped Benton and found himself on the floor.

Then Jaxx was there. Jaxon Montgomery, his partner. Jaxon never stopped until it was over, and she never left her partner in trouble. Jaxon was going to die in that warehouse right beside him. She was providing covering fire, running toward them. "Get up, you lazy ass. You're not that hurt. Haul your butt out of here."

Yeah, that was his Jaxx, always sympathetic to his problems. Benton, damn him, was dragging his body toward the door, trying to save himself. Barry tried. He was very disoriented, and the smoke and heat didn't help. Something was wrong with his head; it pounded and throbbed, and everything seemed hazy and far away. Jaxx's small frame landed beside him, her beautiful eyes enormous with worry. "You landed us in a hell of a mess, my friend," she said softly. "Get moving." She gave him a quick once-over, assessing the damage and dismissing it for more important things. "I mean it, Barry. Move your butt out of here now!" It was a clear command.

Jaxx slammed another clip into her gun and rolled across the floor to draw fire away from her partner, coming up on her knees, firing up toward the loft. As he dragged his leaden body toward the entrance, Radcliff caught a glimpse of a man falling. Satisfaction was instant. Jaxx was an expert marksperson. What she shot at went down. Even if they died here, they took at least one of the enemy with them. Something made him turn his head just as the bullets struck Jaxx, taking her small body and flinging it backward several feet across the warehouse. She fell like a rag doll onto the floor, a dark stain spreading out around her.

Furious, enraged, Barry tried to bring his gun up, but his arm refused to respond. The only thing he could do was crawl forward or crawl back. He crawled back, dragging his body across the distance to hers. She was just lying there. She turned her head slightly to look at him.

"Don't, Jaxx. Don't you do this to me."

"Get out of here."

"I mean it, damn it. Don't you do this." He was desperate to reach her, motivate her to move. She had to move. Had to get out with him.

"I'm tired, Barry. I've been tired for a very long time. Someone else can save everybody now." She murmured the words so softly, he almost didn't hear them.

"Jaxx!" Barry tried to gather her in his arms, but his arms wouldn't work.

To his left, the small door suddenly slammed shut, trapping them inside. And Benton was right; there were enough chemicals in there to blow them all over the city. He waited, expecting death at any moment.

He heard screams then, horrible, gut-wrenching screams of fear. He saw bodies falling through the smoke and the glow of flames. He saw things that couldn't be. A wolf, huge and savage, leaping at a fleeing man, powerful jaws boring through the chest to get at the heart. The wolf seemed to be everywhere, bringing down man after man, ripping through tissue and flesh, cracking bones with its jaws. Barry saw that same wolf contort, shift shape so that it was a huge owl with talons and a beak that dove at another man, plucking the eyes right out of the head. It was an unbelievable nightmare of blood and death and retribution.

Barry had no idea he had such violence inside him to envision such terrible images. He knew that at least two bullets had hit him; he could feel the blood trickling down his face as well as his arm. Obviously he was hallucinating. That was why he didn't attempt to shoot when the wolf finally made its way to their corner of the warehouse. He watched it approach, admiring the way it moved, its muscles rippling, the way it leaped so easily over anything in its path. It came straight to him, drawn no doubt by the smell of blood, or, Barry thought, his own vivid imagination running wild.

The wolf looked at him a long time, looked into his eyes. The eyes of the wolf were very strange, almost completely black. Intelligent eyes but empty of any emotion. Barry felt no threat but more as if the wolf were staring into his very soul, perhaps judging him. He lay still, feeling only a willingness to do whatever the creature wanted him to do. He felt sleepy, his eyelids far too heavy to keep up. As he was drifting off, he could have sworn the wolf contorted once more and began to take the shape of a man.

Jaxon Montgomery woke to the sound of a heart beating. It was beating fast and hard, frightened and loud. She felt automatically for her gun. She was never without a weapon, yet she found nothing under her pillow or beside her body. The heart pounded even harder, and she tasted the coppery flavor of fear in her mouth. Dragging in a lungful of air, she forced herself to open her eyes. She could only stare in astonishment at the room she was in. It was no hospital, and certainly not the bedroom in her tiny apartment. This room was beautiful. The walls were a soft mauve, so light it was impossible to tell if the color was really there or merely her imagination. The carpet was thick and a deeper mauve, picking up the colors in the stained glass high up on three walls. The pattern was soothing and intricate. It gave Jaxx the illusion of being safe, something she knew was impossible. Just to make certain she was really awake, she dug her fingernails into her palms.

She turned her head to examine the other contents of the room. The furniture was antique and heavy, the bed a four-poster that was more comfortable than anything she had ever slept on in her life. The dresser was large and held a few feminine articles on it - a brush, a small music box, and a candle. They were beautiful and looked antique. There were several candles in the room, all lit so that the room itself seemed to bask in the soft light. She had often dreamed of a room like this, so beautiful and elegant, with stained-glass windows. It occurred to her again that she might not be awake.

The sound of the heart pounding so loudly convinced her she was wide awake and others must be taking care of her. Others who had no way of knowing the danger she brought with her. She would have to find a way to protect them. Jaxx looked around frantically for her gun. She had definitely suffered an injury; she couldn't move very well. She took an inventory, carefully trying to shift her arms and then her legs. Her body did not want to respond. She could move if she concentrated every bit of her determination, but it hardly seemed worth the effort. She was very tired, and her head was aching. The relentless beating of that heart was driving her crazy.

A shadow fell across the bed, and her own heart slammed hard enough to cause her pain. She realized then that the sound had come from her own chest. Jaxon slowly turned her head. A man was standing over her. Very tall, powerful. A predator. She saw that instantly.

She had seen many predators, but this one was the ultimate. It was evident in his complete stillness. A waiting. A confidence. A power. A danger. He was dangerous. More dangerous than any criminal she had encountered so far. She didn't know how she knew these things, but she did. He believed himself invincible, and she had a sneaking suspicion that he just might be. He was neither old nor young. It was impossible to tell his age. His eyes were black and emotionless. Empty eyes. His mouth was sensual, erotic, really, his teeth very white. His shoulders were wide. He was handsome and sexy. More than sexy. Completely hot.

Jaxx sighed and tried not to panic. Tried not to allow her thoughts to show on her face. He definitely didn't look like a doctor. He did not look like someone she could take down easily in hand-to-hand combat. He smiled then, amusement touching his eyes for just one moment. It made him look completely different. Warm. Even sexier. She had a feeling he was reading her thoughts and laughing at her. Her hand was moving restlessly beneath the covers, forever seeking the gun.

"You are in distress." He made it a statement. His voice was beautiful. Smooth like velvet, alluring, almost seductive. He had a strange accent she couldn't place and a way of turning his words that sounded very Old World.

Jaxon blinked rapidly in an attempt to cover her confusion, surprised by the direction her thoughts were taking. She never thought about sex. She had no idea why she was equating this stranger with eroticism. To her shock, she had to search for her voice. "I need my gun." It was a dare of sorts, a test of his reaction.

Those black eyes studied her face intently. His scrutiny made her uncomfortable. Those eyes saw too much, and Jaxon had a great deal to hide. His face was expressionless, giving absolutely nothing away, and Jaxx was very good at reading people.

"Are you planning on shooting me?" He asked it with that same gentle voice, only this time it held a hint of amusement.

She was very tired. It was becoming a struggle to keep her eyelashes from drifting down. She noticed a peculiar phenomenon. Her heart had slowed to match the rhythm of his. Exactly. Their two hearts were beating simultaneously. She could hear them. His voice was familiar to her, yet he was a total stranger. No one could ever meet such a man and forget him. She could not possibly know him.

She moistened her lips. She was incredibly thirsty. "I need my gun."

He moved to the dresser. Not walked. Glided. She could watch him move like that for all time. His body was like that of an animal, a wolf or a leopard, something catlike and powerful. Fluid. Totally silent. He flowed, yet when movement ceased, he was completely still again. He handed her her gun.

It felt familiar in her hand, an extension of herself. Almost at once some of her fear faded away. "What happened to me?" Automatically she tried to check the clip, but her arms felt like lead, and she couldn't raise the gun enough to do the job.

He took the gun back, his fingers brushing her skin. The flood of warmth was so unexpected, she jerked away from him. He didn't react but gently pried her fingers loose and showed her the full clip with a round in the chamber before returning the gun to her palm. "You were shot several times, Jaxon. You are still very ill."

"This isn't a hospital." She was always suspicious; it was what kept her alive. But she wasn't supposed to be alive anymore. "You're in great danger here with me," she tried to warn the man, but her words were too low, her voice fading.

"Sleep, honey. Just go back to sleep." He said it softly, yet his velvet tone seeped into her body and mind, as powerful as any drug.

He touched her then, stroking her hair. His touch felt familiar and slightly possessive. He touched her as if he had a right to touch her. It was like a caress. Jaxon was confused. She knew him. He was a part of her. She knew him intimately, yet he was a total stranger. She sighed, unable to prevent her lashes from drifting down and giving in to the powerful demand that she sleep.

Lucian sat on the edge of the bed and simply watched her sleep. She was the most unexpected thing he had experienced in all his centuries of living. He had waited for this being nearly two thousand years, and she was not at all what he had envisioned. The women of his race were tall and elegant, dark-eyed, with an abundance of dark hair. They were creatures of power and skill. He was well aware that his species was on the edge of extinction and that their women were guarded as the treasures they were, but still, they were powerful, not fragile and vulnerable like this young woman.

He touched her pale skin. Sleeping, she looked almost like a pixie, a fairy out of the legends. She was so small and slight, she seemed all eyes. Beautiful eyes. The kind of eyes a man could drown in. Her hair was several shades of blond, thick and soft but short and shaggy, as if she carelessly took scissors to it whenever it got in her way. He had assumed she would have long hair, not this mop. He found himself constantly touching her hair. Soft, like strands of silk. It was untamed and went in whatever direction it chose, but he found himself partial to her wild hair.

She lived in fear. It was her world. It had been her world from the time she was a small child. Lucian had no idea he had such a protective streak in him. For so many centuries he had had no feelings. Now, in the presence of this human woman, he had far too many. Those who had tried to harm her had paid dearly for their crimes in the warehouse. Lucian had sent her into a deep sleep, slowing her heart and lungs while he carried her away from that place of death and destruction. He had saved her partner, too, implanting in the man's mind the memory of an ambulance carrying her off. Lucian managed to save her, giving her his ancient, powerful blood. He had transformed himself into light and entered her battered body in the way of his people, to begin the healing from the inside out. Her wounds were great, her blood loss massive. Using his blood was the only way to save her life, but it was dangerous to both of them. Discovery of the existence of his species by any of her kind would be a death sentence for his people. His first priority was her protection, the second was to ensure the continuation of his race. His job had always been the protection of both species.

He had bought himself time by covering his tracks at the hospital where she would have been taken. He implanted memories of calling in Lifeflight, sending her to a trauma unit. The paperwork seemed to be lost, and the computers went down. No one had figured out exactly what happened.

Lucian found himself tangling his fingers in her hair once more. She didn't even have a decent name. What kind of a name was Jaxon for a woman? He shook his head. He had been watching her for some time, figuring the best way to approach her. If she had been a woman of his race, he simply would have claimed her as his own, bound them together, and allowed nature to take its course. This woman was human and so fragile. He had touched her mind many times over the last few weeks while he had established his home. He found she had many secrets. Gabriel's lifemate had told him he would find this woman somewhere in the world and in great need. Francesca had been right. Jaxon's life had not been an easy one. She had had no childhood to speak of, only memories of struggle and death and violence. Jaxon believed she was responsible for keeping those around her safe. She had lived her entire young life that way. Taking responsibility for others. No one had ever really taken care of her. He intended to remedy that situation. He had a feeling she would have no idea how to respond to his interference.

Her first thought upon awakening had been the protection of others. Of him. That intrigued him. It warmed him that she had tried to warn him of the possible danger to him. She had known he was a predator, that he could be dangerous, yet it still mattered to her to protect him. She fascinated him. Something about her turned his heart over and made him want to smile at the mere sight of her. That was all it took. Looking at her, and he was happy. He had never experienced these emotions, and he took them out to examine them.

With the first sound of her voice, he had seen colors. Vivid, brilliant colors. Having lived in his black-and-white world for so many centuries as did the Carpathian males who had lost emotions, Lucian was almost blinded by the hues. Blues and reds, oranges and greens - every shade of color everywhere he looked. He rubbed strands of her blond hair between his thumb and forefinger, unknowingly tender. The feelings he was experiencing were intense.

Hunger was slowly creeping into his thoughts. He had expended tremendous energy healing her, and his blood needed to be replenished. He sent another strong push to her mind to ensure she remained asleep while he hunted. The city was filled with prey just waiting for him. He went to the balcony, then shape-shifted, choosing the form of an owl. Powerful wings swept him over the city. The sharp eyes were made for seeing in the dark, his acute hearing picking up every sound beneath him. He could hear hearts beating, the murmur of voices, the sound of life being lived. Traffic and city noises were beckoning, the sound of blood pumping through veins bursting with life.

He found his way to the park, a perfect hunting ground. The owl landed in the top of a tree and folded its wings carefully. It inspected the surrounding area. Off to his right he could hear the voices of two men. At once he shape-shifted into his normal form, floating to the ground as he did so. He sent out a silent mental call, demanding that his prey come to him. He had spent so many centuries delivering murderers into the hands of death, it had taken a great deal of discipline to retrain himself simply to feed.

The two men answered his call, both healthy and stocky, runners stretching their legs after a late-night meeting. Neither smelled of alcohol or drugs. He fed quickly, needing to return to Jaxon. She had been unconscious for longer than he would have liked. But now that she was sleeping, Lucian realized she never really allowed herself to enter into the normal human slumber pattern that was so necessary to their bodies. When she went to sleep without the aid of his command, she was restless and in distress. Lucian was well aware that Jaxon spent the majority of nights working at her job, physically driving herself to the point of exhaustion. But her dreams were merciless. Lucian had shared a few of them with her, merging his mind with hers so that he might know her demons intimately. She had far too many demons, and he intended to exorcise every one of them.

Mostly, Lucian didn't want to be separated from her for any longer than was strictly necessary. He couldn't be separated from her. He found he needed to be with her. He, who had never needed anyone. He needed to touch her, to know she was all right. Now that she was in his care, he intended to bind her to him so that neither humans nor other Carpathians could possibly take her from him. Jaxon would not escape him. He had given her his blood and had taken a minute amount of hers, just enough to be able to merge their minds at will.

He returned to her, once again at full strength. And his strength was enormous. He would have to be gentle with her. If there was any gentleness left in him, if there had ever been any gentleness in him, he intended to utilize it for Jaxon. If anyone deserved it, she did.

He sat down on the edge of her bed, removed the command to stay asleep, and gathered her into his arms. "I am your lifemate, young one. You have no idea what that means, and you are not Carpathian, so I expect a certain amount of resistance from you." Lucian rubbed his chin over the top of her head. "I promise you I will be as gentle and as patient as I can, but I cannot wait long for you. The emotions I am feeling do not tame the wild beast within me."

Jaxon's eyelashes fluttered open. She felt confused, hazy, as if she were in a dream. The soothing voice she heard was so beautiful and familiar. It kept the demons at bay and allowed her to feel a measure of safety. "Who are you? How do I know you?"

"Your mind knows me. Your heart and soul recognize me." His thumb caressed the perfect line of her cheekbone tenderly just because he loved the feel of her skin beneath his. "I must bind us together, Jaxon, I have no other choice. It would be dangerous to wait. I am sorry that I cannot give you more time."

"I don't understand." She looked up into his black eyes and should have felt fear at what she saw there. He was looking at her possessively, something no man had ever dared to do. Jaxon didn't encourage such feelings in men. Yet for some strange reason, this dangerous stranger made her feel cared for. Wanted.

"I know you do not understand at this moment, Jaxon, but you will in time." Lucian caught her chin in firm fingers so that his dark eyes captured her gaze.

It was like falling into a black, bottomless pool. Endless. Timeless.

Lucian murmured her name softly and bent his head to the softness of her throat. He inhaled her scent. There was nowhere she could go that he could not find her. His arms tightened possessively until he reminded himself that she was very fragile. She felt incredibly small and light in his arms but also warm and enticing. She was stirring things in him best left alone. The sudden, urgent demands were shocking to him. She was young and vulnerable, and at that moment he should want only to protect her.

His mouth touched her skin gently, tenderly, a small caress. At once need slammed into him, hard and imperative. He could hear her heart beating to the rhythm of his. He could hear her blood run in her veins, an enticing heat that beckoned to him, that triggered a tremendous physical hunger for her body. Closing his eyes, he savored his ability to feel, no matter that it was terribly uncomfortable and his body was screaming for relief. His tongue found her pulse, bathed the area once, twice. His teeth scraped gently over the vein, then sank deeply into it.

At once she moved restlessly in his arms and moaned, a soft whisper of intimacy that tightened his body even more. She was sweet and spicy, a taste indescribable and one he had never before encountered. She was addicting, as if she had been designed precisely to please his every need. He would never get enough of her. Discipline overcame his hunger for the ecstasy her body promised. With a sweep of his tongue, he closed the tiny pinpricks his teeth had made, leaving no signs for a doctor to discover.

Careful to keep her deep within his enthrallment, Lucian opened his shirt and shifted her in his arms so that he could palm the back of her head. His body was raging with need, and her natural sensuality was emerging under his sorcerery. One of his fingernails lengthened into a razor-sharp talon. He sliced a line over his heart and pressed her mouth to his chest that he might continue the ritual of binding her to him.

At the first touch of her lips, fire raged through him, a need so intense, so deep, Lucian, who was noted for his rigid control, nearly gave in to the temptation to take what was rightfully his. He found he was trembling, his body covered with a fine sheen of sweat. Bending close to her ear, he breathed the words into the night, into her mind, that no one could ever separate them again, that she could not be apart from him for more than a few scant hours. "I claim you as my lifemate. I belong to you. I offer my life for you. I give you my protection, my allegiance, my heart, my soul, and my body. I take into my keeping the same that is yours. Your life, happiness, and welfare will be cherished and placed above my own for all time. You are my lifemate, bound to me for all eternity and always in my care."

The relief he experienced was tremendous and occurred despite the fact that his body had not merged with hers. His heart and hers were one, bound together, two halves of the same whole. Their souls merged so that her feminine light shone brightly within him, alleviating the terrible darkness that had threatened him for centuries. At that moment he realized that when one had lived in darkness nearly all of his life, in a bleak, ugly hell of an existence, finding a lifemate was beyond any dream he could imagine.

Jaxon Montgomery was literally his heart and soul. Without her there was no reason to continue existing. He could never go back to the emptiness and darkness he had lived in for so long. The ritual words bound them together so that neither could ever escape the other.

Lucian didn't fool himself. He needed her far more than she could ever need him, though, from his point of view, she needed him a great deal. He had to stop and think before he pushed his claim any further. Very gently he stopped her feeding, closing the wound himself. His blood would both tie them together and aid her healing. It would also work on her human body to convert her to his race. Conversion was risky, hard on the body and mind. And once done, there was no going back. Jaxon would be as he was, needing blood to survive, seeking relief from the sun in the welcoming arms of the earth. If she was not a true psychic - the only kind of human female to successfully convert to Carpathian - the experiment would push her over the edge into madness, and Jaxon would have to be destroyed. Lucian sat back, releasing her from his dark spell.

Her eyelashes fluttered as he slipped her back onto the pillows. Lucian knew that very few humans could be converted successfully. But he also believed she must belong within those ranks, as she was his true lifemate. Her heart matched his. He knew that. When he uttered the ritual words, he felt the threads binding them together. Even so, knowing something intellectually didn't make his heart believe it. He wanted to take no chances with her safety. Three exchanges of blood were necessary for complete conversion. Already her hearing and eyesight were more acute, more like those of Carpathians. She would soon have trouble consuming meat products and most other foods. She would need him near. He had changed her life as much as he dared to at this time.

"I still don't know who you are." Beneath the covers of the bed, Jaxon's fingers wrapped securely around the butt of her gun. She was very drowsy, and this stranger was far too familiar. She didn't like puzzles. She had no idea where she was, only that she was ill and had strange dreams of a dark prince taking her blood and tying her to him for all time. There was something exotic and different about the stranger she found hovering over her bed.

Something elegant and courtly yet wild and untamed. Jaxon found the dangerous combination sensual and difficult to resist.

Lucian smiled at her, a flash of even white teeth that softened the hard lines of his shadowed features. "I am Lucian Daratrazanoff. A very old and respected name but difficult in this country to pronounce correctly. Lucian is fine."

"Do I know you?" Jaxon wished she wasn't so weak. She wished she hadn't had such erotic and peculiar dreams about this man. It made her feel strange to be in his presence, especially when nothing was making sense to her. "Why am I here instead of a hospital?"

"You needed extraordinary care," he answered truthfully. "You came very close to dying, Jaxon, and I could not afford to take any chances with your life."

"My partner, Barry Radcliff, was shot. I remember, he came back for me." Everything else was a blur to her. She had no idea how she had gotten out of the warehouse, since Barry had not been in any shape to carry her.

"He is in the hospital and doing better than expected. He is a tough man and very courageous." Lucian gave her partner his just due, although he didn't add that the man was in love with her.

"I thought I was going to die. I should have died." She murmured the words softly almost to herself.

She had wanted to die. The terrible responsibility that weighed on her slender shoulders was far more of a burden than she wanted to carry for all time. She forced her lashes open so that she could look at him. "You're in terrible danger. You can't be with me. Wherever we are, it isn't safe. You're not safe."

Lucian smiled and reached down to brush at the hair tumbling down around her face. His touch was incredibly tender and gave her that strange sense of security. His voice was so beautiful and pure, she wanted him to go on talking forever. His accent was sexy, sending a wave of longing through her she hardly recognized for what it was.

"Do not worry about me, young one. I am able to protect both of us. I know of the man you fear, and as long as you are in this house, you are safe. He is well trained, but it would be impossible for him to enter these grounds undetected."

"You don't know him. He will kill anyone without remorse or thought. Even though you're only helping me, he'll interpret it as a threat to him." She was becoming agitated, her eyes enormous with concern for him.

"If you believe nothing else of me, Jaxon, believe this. There is no other in this world as dangerous as the man in this room with you. Tyler Drake cannot reach you. He can no longer dictate your life, as you are under my protection now." He sounded matter-of-fact, not arrogant, not a braggart.

She was falling into his dark eyes again. His beautiful, very unusual eyes. Jaxon felt a little lost, and she blinked rapidly to break away from his mesmerizing spell. "I know you think that. My father was a Navy SEAL, and so was my foster father, Russell Andrews. Tyler Drake managed to murder both of them. You can't think you're safe as long as you're with me." Her lashes were far too heavy to keep up. They drifted down in spite of her intention to convince him. She didn't have the strength to guard him. That frightened her, and her heart slammed painfully against her chest.

"Be calm, Jaxon. Take a breath and relax. I am the one taking care of you, not the other way around, although I greatly appreciate that you would want to protect me. In any case, no one knows where you are. I have kept you entirely secure. Just sleep, honey, and heal."

His voice was so soothing and persuasive, she soon found her breathing regulating itself exactly to his. Why she wanted to do as he commanded, she didn't know, but the urge to obey was far too strong to ignore. She allowed her eyes to close. "I hope you're as good as you think you are. It would be safer for you if you called my boss and had him station a couple of the guys to watch over you." Her voice was trailing off to a soft slur. "Better yet, it would be safer if you just walked away from me and never looked back."

Once more Lucian's fingers tangled in her soft hair. "You think I would be safer, do you?"

There was a tinge of amusement in his voice. For some reason it made Jaxon's heart turn over. He was so familiar, as if she knew him intimately, when she didn't recognize him at all. Except his touch. She knew his touch. And the sound of his voice. She knew his voice. The accent, the velvet seduction of it, the way he turned his phrases. The way it seemed to belong in her mind. The really crazy part was, Jaxon was beginning to believe in him.

Lucian watched her go under without so much as a fight. She hadn't wanted her life to be saved, but she had picked up the torch of being his guardian, worried for his safety. She was ready to protect him without even knowing who he was. He had spent a good deal of time now with his mind merged firmly with hers. It had been necessary at first just to keep her alive. Later, he did it because he wanted to know her, her memories, how she thought, what she dreamed of, the things that were important to her. She had far more compassion in her than was good for her. She needed him to balance her out.

He was amazed at how powerful the sexual urges he was experiencing for her were. That it had never happened to him before. He had seldom looked at a woman for other than satisfying hunger. Now his hunger was different and far stronger than anything he had ever imagined. For the sake of knowledge Lucian had sometimes shared the minds of humans to see what sex felt like. This urgent demand raging throughout his body was completely different from even that. It seemed to take over his mind, driving out every sane thought.

Protective. Lucian knew every Carpathian male was born with the tremendous duty of protecting the women and children of their race. This protectiveness he felt toward Jaxon was also different. Lucian had dedicated his life to guarding humans and Carpathians alike, yet again, the intensity of his emotions toward Jaxon was so much stronger. He was unprepared for how powerful his attachment to her would really be. He had lived nearly all his life in darkness and shadow, was comfortable and familiar with violence. He was wholly dark and dangerous. Now he wanted to know tenderness, gentleness. He knew himself as most men never did. He knew he was powerful and dangerous, and he accepted it in himself. Now, however, with Jaxon lying so vulnerable and fragile in his bed, he was even more so.

With a sigh he sank down on the bed beside her. While she remained human and needed to stay above ground to survive, he would be unable to fully protect her during the day, when sunlight diminished Carpathian powers. Normally he would take to the earth until nightfall. Which posed a problem for both of them. She could not be separated from him for that many hours without suffering tremendously. He stretched out on the bed beside her. He would command her to sleep until the next sunset. Meanwhile, the safeguards he would weave around them and the wolves he would release would keep them safe from any creature, human or otherwise, that might seek to harm them. He gathered her small body into the shelter of his larger frame and buried his face in the silky fragrance of her hair.