"Savannah," Gideon interjected slowly. "We can't ask her - "
"Who is the human in question?" Lucan asked. Savannah met his gaze. "My sister Amelie. She's been living on the Atchafalaya Swamp for more than seventy years. And she's trustworthy. The fact that Gideon and I are alive today, standing here in front of you all, is testimony to that."
Gideon nodded, albeit reluctantly. "Savannah and I owe Amelie Dupree our lives. She's solid, Lucan. I'd stake my life on that. I have, actually."
"Amelie knows what Gideon is," Savannah added. "She's known about him since the night he showed up on her doorstep looking for me some thirty years ago, and she's kept our secret all this time."
The newsflash that a human down in the Louisiana swamps was privy to the Breed's existence didn't exactly warm Lucan's cockles. Still, he knew he'd be a fool not to consider the option Savannah and Gideon had just handed him. Human alliances were hardly his first choice - in fact, they ranked about dead last as far as he was concerned - but the situation was desperate and time was definitely not on the Order's side at the moment. "How long do you think it might take to contact your sister?"
"I can call her right now," Savannah said. "I know she'll be willing to help us. All I need to tell her is when she should expect her company to arrive."
"Tell her they'll be there as soon as night falls," Lucan replied.
Corinne had slept without waking until well into the afternoon. Even though Hunter now crouched on his haunches across the small bedroom from her, he could still feel the soft curves of her body pressed against him. He could still smell the fragrance of her hair and skin from the hours he'd spent wrapped around her while she'd dozed.
Now he watched her breathe in and out, anticipating each slow inhalation, mesmerized by the beat of her pulse, which had kicked into a faster tempo beneath the fine alabaster skin at the base of her elegant throat.
His hunger for her hadn't lessened despite the physical distance he'd been glad to put between them. He wanted her in a way that startled him, one that surpassed even the most primal Breed thirst. His desire for her had disturbed him before, but now, after the torment of having held her against him for most of the day, she had invaded all of his senses. Worse than that, she had invaded his logic, making him fixate on her comfort when he should be planning his recon mission for later that night.
He tried to wrestle his focus back to the call he'd received from the Order a few hours ago. They'd found a safe house for Corinne and him about an hour's drive west of the city. Come sundown, he would take her to the assigned shelter then set off on his own to investigate Henry Vachon's known locations and hopefully collect solid intel on where the bastard could be found. The anticipation of closing in on one of Dragos's likely lieutenants made the predator in him itch for nightfall.
Corinne let out a moan on the makeshift pallet on the floor. Hunter sprang to his feet, thoughts of Dragos and his colleagues thrust aside the instant she began to stir. Her legs scissored as though she were struggling to break free from some invisible restraints. Her mouth twisted into a grimace as she sucked in air, rapid, distressed-sounding gulps.
Hunter eased down behind her on his leather coat and gathered her to him. He didn't know what to say to calm her. He had no experience to draw from, so he simply wrapped his arms around her loosely as she thrashed and shifted in his embrace. She was panting now, whispering indiscernibly, panic seeming to rise to a head with each passing second. He felt the frantic tick of her pulse as a scream ripped from her lips. It was a single word, a gasped exclamation that startled her awake, her face now less than an inch away from his. Her eyelids flipped wide open.
"You are safe," he told her, the only words he had as he stared into the terrified greenblue pools of her gaze. He brought his hand up slowly and swept a tendril of dark hair off her damp brow. "You're safe with me, Corinne."
She gave him a faint nod. "I had a nightmare. I thought I was back there ... in that awful place."
"Never again," he told her. It was a promise, one he realized just then that he was prepared to die for. She didn't flinch away as he continued to stroke the delicate slope of her cheek and jaw line. Her eyes, however, remained fixed on him, studying him.
"How long did you stay with me while I slept?"
"A while."
She gave a small shake of her head, not stopping him from letting his fingers stray into the silky warmth of her unbound hair. "You stayed for a long time. You held me, so that I could sleep."
"You asked me to," he replied.
"No," she countered gently. "I only asked you to stay until I fell asleep. What you did was ... very kind." Her eyes were locked on him with such open gratitude, it humbled him. When she spoke again, her voice had grown quiet, as though the words were difficult to summon. "I'm not used to being held. I can hardly remember what it's like to be touched with any amount of care or tenderness. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel anymore."
"If I am causing you discomfort - "
"No," she answered quickly, reaching out to press her palm lightly against his chest. It remained there, a slender patch of heat resting over the heavy thud of his heartbeat. "No, you don't cause me any discomfort, Hunter. Not at all."
He frowned, watching his big hand caress the impossibly delicate contours of her face. His fingertips were callused from handling weapons and dealing in violence. His skin rasped against the velvety perfection of hers. "You are the finest thing I've ever touched. I want to be careful with you. I worry that you'll break under my rough hands."
She smiled at that, a deep curve of her lips that had him burning to kiss her. "Your hands are very gentle. And I like the way you're touching me now."
Her whispered praise went through his body like a jolt of lightning. His pulse hammered in his ears, blood rushing through his veins and arteries like a sudden, swelling flood of lava. The tips of his fangs stretched, responding as obviously as another part of his anatomy. He fought the fevered response of his body, certain he could rein it in as he traced the edge of her jaw, then trailed the pad of his thumb over the supple curve of her lower lip. God, she was soft. So beautiful.
She exhaled a small, pleasured-sounding sigh as he continued to study her with his hands and eyes. "Are you always so careful and tender with your women?"
He shrugged, stopping short of admitting that there had been no other women - not even once. He was raised as a machine, denied all physical contact save discipline. Until the past couple of days he'd been with Corinne, he hadn't known to crave anything more.
"Intimacy had no place in my upbringing," he told her. "This is not the kind of contact I was trained for."
"Well, you're doing just fine, if you ask me."