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"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
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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
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