Jaxon shoved a trembling hand through her short blond hair, a habit when she was agitated. It left the soft, silky strands falling in all directions, wild, the way Lucian liked it. “I can’t believe you did that. Lucian, you have to let me protect you. I had the gun. You just stood there, not moving. You’re a huge target—did you ever think of that? A sniper on a roof could have had you before you blinked.”
She was really afraid for him. He could feel it in her like a living, breathing entity. It was nearly suffocating her. Lucian automatically became aware of his own breathing, deliberately tuning his to hers so that his heart raced and his lungs ached. Just as deliberately he began to slow both of their hearts, breathing calmly for both of them.
“You don’t seem to have any instincts for self-preservation at all,” she accused. “Have you hunted those horrible creatures for so long, protecting other people, that you no longer give a thought for your own life?” Her eyes actually burned with tears. Fear formed a hard knot in her throat. She had seen little glimpses of his life, and it distressed her. He had trained himself to be disposable, to place himself in harm’s way to protect others. He had stood tall and straight, his shoulders square, his expression never changing. It frightened her to think of him like that. He had been far more alone in that moment than she had been her entire life.
Lucian pulled her stiff, resisting body into the curve of his arm and held her to him. His miracle. The light in his unrelenting dark world. Her show of fear for him melted his heart as nothing else could. She thought she didn’t know who he was, but she knew him better than he knew himself. Lucian dropped his head protectively over hers, his arms wrapped securely around her so that they clung to each other. How could he have managed to exist in such a bleak void for all those long centuries without her? He knew he could never go back. The will and determination, the remembered love and loyalty, the vow to protect or destroy he had made and kept all those centuries would never be enough now to keep him going should he lose her. If she were taken from him, he would dispense only death and retribution for the rest of his endless days. He would never go quietly into the dawn. His arms tightened, and a smile touched the dark bleakness of his eyes. Joy spread a warmth through his entire body. Yes, he would. He would go wherever she went. If Jaxon moved on to another life, he would follow her there without hesitation.
Jaxon realized her heart had slowed and was matching the rhythm of Lucian’s. She was once more able to breathe more easily. The warmth of his body had seeped into hers, and she felt incredibly safe. She closed her eyes and didn’t fight the emotions he brought out in her. She liked being in his arms. She liked feeling safe and not so alone. Most of all, Jaxon was determined that Lucian would never feel such stark loneliness again. She knew about being lonely, but the few times she had touched on his mind, his solitary existence had been utterly cold and bleak. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t examine the why of it very closely; she knew only that nothing else mattered to her quite so much as his safety.
“I am well aware you did something back there to those men,” she murmured against his chest, a note of drowsiness creeping into her voice. “Is this chauffeur yours?”
“He is on loan.”
“I noticed he didn’t hit the ground for cover. He dropped into a crouch and was fishing in his jacket for something. What do you think it was?” Jaxon opened her eyes and studied Lucian’s shadowed jaw.
Without conscious thought her fingers crept up to touch his chin.
“I have no idea what most chauffeurs do in such circumstances,” Lucian replied innocently. “Perhaps he had a cell phone and was going to call for help.”
“Half the police force was already there.” She snuggled closer to him. She liked the feel of Lucian’s hand in her hair, the way he caressed the silky strands, the touch of his fingertips against her neck. “Who lent him to you?”
“He is the son of a friend’s housekeeper”
“A friend’s housekeeper?” she echoed, the suspicion in her voice increasing.
He sighed. “This is beginning to sound like an interrogation. Are you a police officer by any chance?”
“Absolutely. Tell me the whole story. I like tall tales.”
His hands crept around her neck in a mock threat. “You are going to give me no end of trouble, I can tell.”
“No one else does. It isn’t good for you to have all that deference paid to you all the time. You get so you believe you deserve it.” She was laughing, her body relaxed and pliant against his.
She belonged there. He felt it. Knew it in his deepest soul. There was no doubt in his mind that Jaxon was his other half. Created for him. Destined for him. Each time he looked at her, he found he wanted to smile. Each time he looked at her, his insides turned to molten lava.
Wrought-iron gates loomed up before the limousine, tall and intricate and as beautiful as the estate itself. The chauffeur drove the limousine smoothly through the opening and up the long drive to the house. Tall shrubbery on either side lent the grounds a wild, forest-like appearance. Everywhere she glanced were trees and ferns and bushes of some kind. Looking up at the house, she could see it had several stories, with turrets and balconies in unexpected places. Stained glass was woven throughout the walls in all shapes and sizes. It was beautiful and old-fashioned.
“The lifemate of my twin brother, Gabriel, sent me most of the stained glass. She does incredible work. She is a great healer, and it shows in her work. Many of the pieces were wrought by Francesca and their young ward, Skyler. The patterns offer much protection for those inside the house.” He said it quietly, matter-of-factly, as if offering up mundane conversation.
Jaxon realized that what he was telling her was far more important than it appeared on the surface. She took the hand he extended to her as she slipped out of the huge car. “I want you to know I’m not riding in that thing again. It’s so wasteful, it’s a sin. And if you don’t know how to drive, I’m excellent at it.”
The chauffeur cleared his throat, trying valiantly to hide his smile. “Excuse me, miss, you wouldn’t be trying to cut into my livelihood, would you?”
She tilted her head to one side and studied the man with shrewd, assessing eyes. He moved like a boxer, his gait perfect. There were heavy muscles under his absurd uniform. Whatever this man was, he was no chauffeur.
“What’s your name?” With that information, it should be easy enough to find out more about him.
He grinned at her, tipped his hat, and slid back into the car.
“Chicken,” she whispered into the night. She looked up at Lucian standing as still as a statue. “And you. What am I going to do about you?”
“I was not the one in danger, angel. That was you” His hand crept around the nape of her neck, urging her up the stairs to the front entrance.
“It doesn’t matter which one of us they were after, Lucian,” she explained patiently. “You would have been the one they hit. I tried to move you out of the way, but you’re immovable when you go all stubborn.”
“There was no danger, Jaxon. They had abominable aim. It was rather desperate of their boss to send out three such incompetent hit men, don’t you think?” He was standing close enough to her that she could feel the warmth of his skin, yet only his hand rested on the nape of her neck.
Jaxon heard herself laugh. The sound surprised her. He was acting, oh, so innocent. Nothing ruffled him, nothing disturbed him. His voice was unchanged, soft and beautiful, not responsible for any mischief-making or wrongdoing. He reached around her to pull open the heavy front door. Very briefly his hand rested on her shoulder; then he dropped it and moved away from her. “You are not ill this time. Do you enter my home of your own free will?” He asked the question seriously, his seductive voice melting her heart.