"Is that what it was, a seizure?"
"Something like that."
"Does it happen frequently?"
He shrugged, seeing no cause to deny it. "Yeah, I guess so."
Tess came toward him then, taking a seat on the arm of the sofa. "Do you have medication for it? I wanted to check, but I didn't feel right going through your pockets. If there's something you need--"
"I'm good," he said, still marveling at the absence of pain or nausea following what had been the worst assault he'd experienced to date. The only one that had ever come on while he was awake. Now, aside from being a bit groggy from a hard sleep, he could barely tell he'd had the damn vision at all. "Did you... give me something, or maybe... do something to me? I felt your hands on my back at one point and moving around my head... "
A strange expression came over her face, almost a look of momentary panic. Then she blinked and glanced away from him. "If you think it will help, I have Tylenol in my desk. I'll get you some and a glass of water." She started to get up.
"Tess." Dante reached out and took her wrist in a loose grasp. "You stayed with me the whole time-- all these hours?"
"Of course. I couldn't very well leave you here by yourself."
He got a sudden, clear mental picture of what she must have seen if she was anywhere near him while he fought the onslaught of his death vision. But she hadn't run away shrieking, and she wasn't looking at him in terror now either. In fact, he had to wonder if being with her hadn't somehow eased the worst of his nightmare before it had even begun.
Her touch had been so soothing, so cool and tender.
"You stayed with me," he said, awed by her compassion. "You helped me, Tess. Thank you."
She could have drawn her hand out of his easy hold at any moment, but she hesitated there, a question in her blue-green gaze. "I think... Since you seem to be all right now, I think it's time to call it a night. It's late, and I should go home."
Dante resisted the urge to point out that she was trying to run again. He didn't want to scare her off, so he slowly got up from the sofa and stood near her. He looked at their fingers, still touching at the tips, neither one of them willing to break the unexpected contact.
"I have to... go," she said quietly. "I don't think this--whatever this is that's happening between us--is a good idea. I'm not looking to get involved with you."
"And yet you've been sitting here taking care of me for the past four-plus hours."
She frowned. "I couldn't have left you alone. You needed help."
"What do you need, Tess?"
He curled his fingers, capturing hers in a firmer hold now. The air in the small office seemed to constrict and throb with awareness. Dante could feel Tess's pulse kickstart into a faster beat, a vibration he picked up through her fingertips. He could read her interest, the desire that had been there when he'd kissed her at the art exhibit and been sorely tempted to seduce her in front of a few hundred witnesses. She had wanted him then, maybe even last night too. The delectable, trace scent coming off her skin as she held his meaningful stare told him plainly enough that she wanted him now.
Dante smiled, desire flaring in him for the woman whose blood was a part of him.
The woman who just might be in league with his enemies, if Tess had any hand at all in her onetime boyfriend's pharmaceutical ventures.>"I don't know."
Although Tess hardly noticed Dante moving, their arms brushed against each other, his solid, muscled body like a warm, protective wall beside her. And he smelled incredible--something spicy and dark that probably cost a fortune. She drew in a deep breath of him, then bent to inspect the dog's mite-infested ears. "Have you noticed a loss of appetite or a problem keeping food and water down?"
"I couldn't say."
Tess lifted the terrier's lips and checked the color of his diseased gums. "Can you tell me when was Harvard's last vaccination?" "I don't know."
"Do you know anything about this animal?" It sounded accusatory, but she couldn't bite it back.
"I haven't had it very long," Dante said. "I know it needs care. Do you think you can help, Tess?"
She frowned, knowing it was going to take a lot to reverse everything the dog suffered from. "I'll do what I can, but I can't make any promises."
Tess reached for a ballpoint that was lying on the countertop behind her and fumbled it. The pen dropped to the floor at her feet, and before she could bend down to pick it up, Dante was there. He caught the Bic in nimble fingers and held it out to her. As she took it from him, she felt his thumb skim over the back of her hand. She drew her arm against her body in an abrupt motion.
"Why do I make you so nervous?"
She shot him a look that probably broadcast that very thing. "You don't."