ClosertoFire (2 page)

Her stomach clenched as they fell, and she wondered with an
odd detachment how much it would hurt. Dim surprise as her pursuer clutched her
body against his, curling her protectively into his frame just before they hit
the pavement. The cracking sound his arm made—
was that bone?
—on impact.
Flash.
The blond man’s face above them, his expression oddly regretful as he put a
white cloth over her face. A horrible, cloying sweetness blending with the
metallic taste of fear in her mouth. Gagging. Struggling. Smothering.
I’m
dying.
Then…nothing.

Lily woke groggy, at first aware only of blurry double
images and sounds. Her neck ached and cramped as she tried to raise her head.
She was in a reclining chair. She struggled to sit up but her muscles wouldn’t
cooperate.

“Did you give her the anti-nausea meds I left?” a male voice
asked from somewhere to her right.

“Yes, Doctor Nightingale,” the sarcastic reply came from her
left.

A blond man floated into her field of vision.
The man
from the alley
, she thought blurrily, wishing desperately for a single
clear thought. He pressed lightly just above her right eye, raised the lid and
shined a light into it. She winced, the absurd image of the light shining
straight into the back of her skull coming to mind.

I’ve been drugged.
The memory of the anesthetic’s
odor and taste, terrible in its singular clarity, surfaced. Suddenly drowning
in nausea, Lily leaned forward, retching. Something thin and shiny—the rope the
other one had held in his arms—stopped her. Jesus, she was tied up. Panic
warred with the miserable sensation in her stomach.

The little light winked off and the doctor cursed, vanishing
from her sight. “How much did you give her?” he asked, his voice curt.

“How much of what? You didn’t say anything about…” the
second voice trailed off as the sounds of vials clinking popped like little
china bubbles next to her ears. Then he reappeared, kneeling, a syringe and
vial in one hand and a tube—
an IV
, she realized—in the other.

I don’t want that
, she wanted to scream, but all that
emerged was a hoarse croak. She tried to lift her hand, move it away, but the
same silvery stuff that was tied around her chest bound her wrists and ankles
to the chair.

The doctor looked up at her, watching her face closely. His
bright-blue eyes no longer seemed cold. She fixed on them, holding his calm
gaze as though it were an anchor in a storm. “Lily, you’ve had ether,” he said
slowly. “That’s why you feel so bloody awful. This will help.” She watched him,
fear a cold pit in her stomach. “I’m sorry,” he added. “It’s the only
anesthetic that works on your kind.”

My kind?
She mouthed the words, attempting to speak,
but he shook his head. He held up a vial and filled a syringe with a clear
liquid, tapping out bubbles. Lily forced herself to sit still. She wanted to
run. Even if she weren’t bound, she wouldn’t make it out of the chair without
collapsing into a retching heap. He inserted the needle into a port on her IV
tube and pushed the plunger. Her hand burned as the drug went into her vein.
She clenched and unclenched her stiff fingers.

He put his hand over hers, his expression oddly apologetic,
and rubbed her skin until the burning subsided.

Who are you?
she wanted to ask.

The drug descended on her with a wave of somnolence that
took with it the horrid knot in her stomach.

“We can talk later,” he said. “How’s the nausea?”

Her throat felt as if she’d swallowed shards of glass.
“Better,” she managed.

“Sleepy?” he asked. Though he was right in front of her, it
sounded as if he spoke from a great distance. She nodded. He cupped the side of
her face, his hand a cool comfort. He moved on and examined her fingers and
toes, pressing on the nails. Lily watched, squinting as if it might clear her
blurred vision. The IV tube led to a drip bag looped over a coat hanger in a
large, wooden wardrobe next to her chair. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know
what was in the bag. Her body felt as if it were made of lead.

I’m in a hotel room?
It certainly looked that
way—generic furnishings, bland wallpaper, and she could see a sprinkler in the
ceiling above her head. She tried to examine her surroundings further, but
every time she moved her head too quickly, she saw double.

“I’m Bane,” he said softly, laying his hand on her forehead,
then her cheek. He gestured to her left.

Lily turned her head gingerly. The man who had been with him
earlier was stretched out on a king-sized bed next to her chair. Her vision
blurred again.
That paisley bedspread is awful
, she thought. Then her
gaze connected with eyes so dark they were almost black. The crackling mix of
emotions playing across his expression was perplexing.

“That,” Bane said, his voice still soft, “is my partner
Darek.” Lily tilted her head, wondering what the protocol was here. How did one
greet one’s kidnappers?
Nice to meet you?
The absurdity of it struck her
and she fought the insane urge to giggle. Bane grasped her chin and turned her
head slowly until her gaze was level with his own.

“I know you feel terrible right now, but I need to ask you
something.” He paused, as though waiting for the words to sink in. “Do you know
what we are?”

Lily gaped, not sure she’d heard the question right. Did she
know
what
theywere
?
Was there a wrong answer here?

Bane shook his head. “No, you heard correctly. Do you know
what we are?”

Lily blinked. She must be more out of it than she thought.
Is
he reading my mind?

Bane nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “Just
answer the question, Lily. Do you know what we are?”

A dozen possible answers flitted through her mind, not a one
of them making any sense. They were…military? Police? Private investigators?
Why would those people have any interest in her, anyway?

Bane chuckled. “No, Lily. Do you know
what we are
?”
he asked, enunciating each word clearly. He leaned closer, and…and…

This is a dream
, she realized with a rush of relief.
It
must be.
His eyes were glowing—freaking
glowing
—blue.

She laughed hoarsely, which made her throat hurt like hell.
Dreams didn’t hurt, did they?

Bane sat back on his feet, turning to his partner. “She has
no idea,” he said flatly.

A growl issued from the bed to her right. “She’s lying. They
all lie.”

Lily shook her head violently, clenching her teeth against
the disorientation the motion caused.
Am not!
she thought indignantly,
glaring at the man on the bed.
Darek.
That was his name. How her
subconscious had come up with him, she didn’t know.

“Dammit,” Darek muttered. The bed creaked as he stood.
“You’re getting soft in your old age, Bane. The inquiry is tomorrow night. Let
Anthony and the others decide.” Bane didn’t look away but his eyes grew a shade
colder.

Inquiry?
That didn’t sound good at all. But then,
this wasn’t real, right?
Right?
Lily’s heart raced.

Darek strode past her and walked into an adjoining room. She
tried once more to speak.

Bane shook his head. “He’ll come around. Give him time.”

Inquiry?
she mouthed.

He stroked her cheek with his thumb, his expression kind.
“It’s okay,” he said.

She frowned. That was much too nonspecific.

He opened his mouth to speak again, then paused, looking
conflicted. He leaned forward and whispered to her, his breath warm on her ear.
“We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”

She shivered.
Please, just let me wake up.
She closed
her eyes, feeling a tear run down her cheek. To think that this morning, her
worst fear was running out of gas on the way to work.

When she opened her eyes again, Bane’s jaw was tight, his
expression conflicted. He leaned forward, his mouth slanting over hers just as
her brain formed the thought,
He’s going to kiss me.
His lips were soft,
lingering warmly against hers for just a second before he sat back on his
heels.

When he did, Lily could have sworn she saw blue and gold
light flicker over his skin—no, through his skin—traveling down his neck, over
his biceps and down his hands. She shivered, blinking rapidly.
Beautiful
,she thought. He was beautiful. Her lips were damp from his kiss. She stared
at him.

His eyes were full of disbelief. “No, no, no,” he murmured.
“This can’t be.”

What?
The question burned in her mind and she willed
him to hear it. If he did, he ignored her. He glanced toward the door where
Darek had disappeared, then began untying her bonds with deft fingers. Lily
sighed with relief as the hateful rope fell away.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he told her. “I’m going to move
you to the bed so you can rest, but I can’t have you running off. Darek would
have my hide for a rug.” He finished unbinding her. Lily smiled, rubbing her
arms. She gave the door a calculating glance. Could she make it?

With a wry smile, Bane reached up for the IV bag and
gathered her easily into his arms. “You could try,” he said, lifting her, “but
you wouldn’t get far. Worse, you might hurt yourself. You’re heavily
medicated—your thinking processes are a mess.” He set her on the bed and hung
her IV from the lamp, checking the drip.

She looked thoughtfully at the tube, then at her hand,
trying not to think the words.
I could fix that little problem.

Bane sighed, picked up the rope and sat down next to her.
“It’s just saline,” he said, pointing to the clear bag. “No more drugs. I
promise. You need fluids, so leave it alone. Okay?”

His gaze was penetrating and she shifted uncomfortably.
“Give me your hands, Lily.” Though the command was soft, it was firm. No wiggle
room there.

Her mouth tightened at the sight of the rope in his hands.
Like
hell.

“Lily, I’m trying to do you a favor—”

She bolted.

Sort of.

She made it all the way to the other side of the king
mattress before he caught her, murmuring curses under his breath.

“Need help, Florence?” Darek called from the adjoining room.

“No!” Bane answered, straddling Lily and securing both her
hands in one of his. She kicked and twisted but it did her no good. His grip
was like iron as he secured her arms from the elbows, rapidly winding the nasty
silver stuff up and in between her forearms in an intricate—and positively
unbreakable—pattern, leaving her hands free. Free—but useless. When he was
finished, she felt like a calf at a rodeo.

Lily stared up at him, panting and reeling from the
exertion. He wasn’t even breathing hard. She bucked once, more out of
frustration than a sincere attempt to escape again. That, at least for now,
wasn’t going to happen.

“You’re right—it’s not,” he said. In a single movement, he
pinned her with his upper body, trapping her bound arms between them. She
grunted, startled, her heart pounding. His blue eyes were blazing with anger.

Lily did her best to glare back, but in truth she was
scared. Even back at the library, when he’d caught her and covered her mouth
with that foul-smelling cloth, he hadn’t been angry. Not like this.

“I didn’t want to do that, dammit,” he said, his breath warm
on her ear. “You’re lucky you didn’t rip out your IV,” he growled, checking her
hand.

Her head slightly clearer now, Lily splayed her fingertips
against the hard wall of his chest, pushing at first, then cautiously
exploring. She’d never been this close to a man without disaster striking. Her
face was against his neck and his scent—pine, cedar and wood smoke—made her
wildly aware of every point of contact between them. For a surreal moment, she
wondered if he tasted as good as he smelled.

His eyes widened then drifted shut as he groaned through
clenched teeth. It was a lost, aching sound, and it cracked something inside
her.

I’m sorry
, she thought, willing him to hear the
apology.

“No, don’t be,” he grated, shifting his hips so that she
felt the firm ridge of his erection pressing into her belly. Her body
responded, a needy warmth awakening low in her belly. She arched against him,
needing to feel his weight on her. Not knowing why she did so, she turned her
head, baring her neck to him. He accepted the invitation, trailing kisses and nips
up her throat, along her jawline and finally claiming her mouth with his own.
He did taste as good as he smelled. She wanted… She searched for the words…

“What do you want, Lily?” he whispered.

More
, she thought urgently. Her skin felt hot and
prickly and she wanted out of her clothes. She wanted his hands on her.
Everywhere. His scent on her skin, his body in hers—she craved these things
with a depth that frightened her.

He rose to his knees, breathing heavily, dragging a hand
through his hair. “Not now,” he said, swiping his hand down his face. “I’m
sorry, but not like this.”

Lily stared at him, open-mouthed.
Not now?
He sounded
so casual. Her whole world had just shifted on its axis.

He took in a deep breath as if to steady himself, moved off
her and stood. She lay still, feeling miserably abandoned and confused. What
the hell had just happened?

It wasn’t until he threaded the rope that bound her forearms
through the headboard slats that she began to protest. “Please, no.” The pain
in her throat brought tears to her eyes.

He gave her a sympathetic look but shook his head. He bound
her ankles to the footboard. “I’m sorry, love,” he said, adjusting the slack in
the rope so that her hands lay on the pillow beside her. Just his proximity
made her body burn. He sat down beside her on the bed, his expression pensive,
and laid his hand on her jaw. Unable to stop herself, she turned her face into
his palm, placing a kiss in the warm center.

He inhaled sharply. “Dammit, Lily.” He stroked her face with
trembling fingers. “Look, give me a few hours. Let’s talk in the morning.”

She’d never been this aroused before. And it sure wasn’t
like any encounter she’d ever had with a man before. Skin-to-skin contact
usually brought on a man-pocalypse.
What is
happening
to me?