Lightning Game (GhostWalkers 17)

“Jonquille.”

That was another voice. A man’s voice, and one she was very familiar with. Diego. He sounded stern. Commanding. Of course he would want to take charge when she was unable to even glare at him.

“You can’t do the kind of healing you did on Rubin without repercussions to your own body. You have to rest and let yourself heal. He’s in the other room doing much better than you are. In fact, he’s been up walking around and has been in to see you twice this morning. He’s not happy with any of us that we let you heal him. Like we had a choice. I told him you took charge, but he’s gotten all growly on us and no one can live with him.”

Nonny had been wiping her face and neck with the cooling cloth, but she stopped abruptly. “Diego, Rubin is never growly. I have never heard that man be anything but a true gentleman.” The gentle strokes continued.

“Now, Nonny, my brother would never growl in front of you. You have to admit that,” Diego said in his most pacifying voice.

Jonquille wanted to smile, and she definitely wanted to open her eyes and see Nonny, the woman who could cause Diego to backtrack immediately and sound like he might weep if she didn’t forgive him. She loved the way the two brothers were together, and the easy way Diego could sound so charming. She wished she knew how much time had passed. She was worried about Rubin, but she was also worried about Sean and his men.

She tried to reach out to Diego. Sean? The moment she did, her head exploded with pain and she cried out. Now she knew why that woman was crying. She knew for certain the woman was her. She was the big baby, sobbing away, because her head threatened to shatter into a million pieces. Her brain was fragmented and it hurt just to think, let alone try to reach out to Diego telepathically.

“Don’t, Jonquille,” he cautioned sharply.

At the same time, Rubin barked an order from the doorway. “Stop that right now, Jonquille. What are you thinking? Do you want to fry your brain completely? You could have burned out your talent, for all we know. I can’t even examine you yet.”

She didn’t hear him move across the room, nor did she feel his energy, but he was suddenly sinking down onto the bed beside her, taking her hand, gripping it tightly.

“You do sound like a bear, Rubin,” Nonny chastised, but she sounded gentle. “Don’t growl at her. She’s emotional and very frightened. You need to reassure her, not upset her.”

“I know, Nonny. I’m sorry, Lightning Bug. You scared me again. I don’t seem to do well with you scaring me. Maybe we’ll have to put you in a little room for the next few months where I know you’re safe, just to let me breathe.” He brought her hand to his mouth so he could press kisses to the center of her palm. “Thank you for saving my life. What you did was impressive, to say the least, but it could have killed you.” There was warning in his voice.

Jonquille reached for her voice. She might not be able to pry open her eyelids to see his beloved face, although she was determined that she would. Her hand trembled in his with the effort to rub one finger along his, that was how weak she was. “There is no living without you, apparently.”

Her voice was more of a whisper, a thin wispy sound barely moving from her mouth to his ear, but he heard. She knew he did because he tightened his hand around hers and suddenly leaned down to her face.

“I’m in love with you, Jonquille. I know you think that’s impossible because we haven’t really been together, but I am. We’ve shared minds, so I can see who you are. It was impossible not to, and hopefully you could do the same with me.”

It had never occurred to her that a man like Rubin would ever truly be in love with her. He might be paired with her because Whitney had set it up that way, but to actually love her for herself, that seemed unlikely. Rubin wasn’t a man to lie. It wasn’t in him. She had to open her eyes. As if Nonny could read her mind, that soothing cloth passed gently over her eyelids with a cool liquid and her lashes fluttered.

She forced her eyes open. Just a little. Not a lot. She wasn’t asking for the moon, she just needed to see his face. That face. She loved his face. She needed to see him desperately. To know he was alive and well. She would forever relive that moment when that bullet had torn into his chest and she’d seen the destructive path it had taken. For her, it had been slow motion.