"You need to deal with her. Clearly, she has some reason to be hanging outside your door."

"She's crazy. No help for it."

"d.a.m.n it, Madoc! She's not even dressed. She's wearing a nightgown, all curled up like she's freezing."

"Get her a blanket."

"Don't you think that if I could touch her, I'd be out there already, taking care of her?"

The picture Nicholas painted made a protective rage swell up inside him, but he knew that if he opened that door, Nika was going to be the one to regret it. No one seemed to understand that like he did.

Of course, his c.o.c.k thought opening the door was a great idea. She was all sleepy and vulnerable. He could lay her down on his bed and bury himself inside her before she even had time to wake up. If he covered her mouth, he could m.u.f.fle the screams.

She might even like it. She sure as h.e.l.l kept throwing herself at him enough to make him think she was asking for it.

Something in that logic was flawed, but with Nicholas's voice buzzing in his ear and Nika right outside his door, he didn't have enough mental s.p.a.ce to figure out what it was.

Silence filled the line, like Nicholas was waiting for a response.

Pretend you have honor. The reminder rang inside Madoc's head.

A man with honor would not be thinking about f.u.c.king a crazy chick's brains out. He'd open the door, take Nika home, and tuck her safely into her own bed.

She'll just come back, a dark voice whispered inside him. Why bother?

Impatience rang in Nicholas's tone. "One of those foreigners is going to pa.s.s by and think he can touch her. Don't you think she's already blistered enough?"

"Call Joseph." If Madoc opened that door, he was going to bring her inside and hurt her a h.e.l.l of a lot more than a few blisters could.

"Screw it. I'll do it myself."

"Good choice."

"You know, you're probably right. It's been a long time since I've seen any action. My cameras are pretty good, and I'd bet my favorite gaming PC that she's not wearing panties. I'll check and give you the juicy details later." The line went dead.

Rage poured into his system, making his head pound. Nika was his, d.a.m.n it. No f.u.c.king way was Madoc going to let Nicholas get anywhere near her.

He dropped the phone and was off his bed before it hit the ground. He jerked the sheet from the bed, wrapped it around his hips, and shoved the kitchen table away from the door. It toppled over, hitting a wall hard enough to leave a dent in the drywall.

Madoc opened the door and saw Nika curled up in a tight ball. The racket he'd made getting to her hadn't even made her stir.

Something in the general vicinity of his chest broke open and bled as he looked at her. It was torture being so close to her, knowing it was wrong, knowing what he wanted to do.

But who else was there to take care of her? Her sister was gone. None of the other Theronai could touch her but him, and none of the humans here was strong enough to be entrusted with her care.

He was her only option, and as s.h.i.tty as that was for her, they were stuck with each other. At least until the right Theronai came along. And he would. Madoc had to believe that as much as he dreaded it.

He picked her up, enjoying the weight of her in his arms, the feel of her against his bare chest. He would have liked it better if she'd been naked, but even with the barrier of cloth between them, the contact seemed to calm something raging inside him even as it tempted him to let his l.u.s.t take the wheel.

Madoc kicked the front door shut behind him, laid her in his bed, covered her up to her chin, and left the room, shutting the door behind him. He knew that if he looked back, he'd climb right in that bed with her and find out firsthand whether she was wearing panties.

Pain hammered at his bones, and he knew that if he didn't do something to stop it, his body would fly apart. Mere flesh could not house so much pain. Every step he took away from her made it worse, so he didn't go fara"just outside the bedroom door.

He unsheathed his sword, set it on the floor, and knelt beside it. Years of meditation allowed him to slide into that s.p.a.ce where time became nothing and his body faded, along with the pain and l.u.s.t that threatened to drive him mad. It would all be there, waiting for him when he was done, but until then, he would occupy this gray, meaningless place to keep Nika safe from himself.

Grace plastered a bright smile on her face and walked into Torr's suite. "How are you doing today?" she asked, trying to sound like her usual cheerful self.

"Better now that you're here," said Torr. The words were more slurred today than before, though whether that was because she was later than normal or because he was worse, she couldn't be sure.

He lay on a hospital bed in his living room. The standard furniture that had been shoved to the walls rather than removed was now gone. Grace had no idea who'd done it, but it made Torr's condition seem somehow worse. Instead of hoping that they'd find a cure and the bed would no longer be necessary, it seemed that now people were giving up on him, accepting that this was going to be the way things were for the rest of his long, long life. He'd given up on himself months ago. Maybe he didn't like the hopeful reminder.

His dark hair had grown out since the night of the attack so that it was now long enough to cover his ears. She secretly liked the new look and the way the silky strands felt sliding between her fingers when she groomed him. She'd kept his beard shaved for him, though, relishing every moment she was allowed to spend touching him.

His long body made him look thinner than he really was, though he had lost a lot of weight. Muscles that had grown hard with centuries of use had wasted away inhumanly fast, making him appear shriveled.

Grace still thought he was beautiful, especially his pale amber eyes that followed her wherever she went. Moving his head had become increasingly difficult for him, but his eyes rarely left her, making her feel self-conscious and alluring all at the same time.

She sat on the edge of the bed, taking his hand in hers, even though she knew he couldn't feel it. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Sounds serious."

She shook her head, feeling her curls bounce around her shoulders. "Not really. I just . . . need to leave for a little while."

"Where?"

"I need to take a little time for myself, maybe take a trip to see the ocean. I've always wanted to see the ocean." She'd probably never get to now, but the best lies were those bathed in the truth.

"That's good. You should go."

Even as his words encouraged her, his eyes told another story. After so many months of seeing each other every day, he'd probably grown as used to her visits as she had. She was going to miss being able to touch him.

"I don't want to leave you," she told him. At least that part was true.

"I can't go."

"I know. I'll miss you."

A faint smile lifted one side of his mouth. "Too fun to miss me."

"I could never have that much fun."

His eyes slid over her features and she wondered if he'd lose his ability to see, too, if this thing she was going to do didn't work.

"What?" he asked. "Something bothering you." His speech was more broken today. More halting.

"It's nothing," she lied. "I'm just worried about my brother. He's having some issues in his cla.s.ses. It's no big deal. I'm sure he'll work through it."

"Wish I could help."

She stroked his hair away from his forehead, committing the feel of it to memory. She'd always have the memories of touching him to keep her company.

"You're going to get better," she told him, meaning every word. "You're going to help so many people, you won't even be able to remember all their names."

"Grace," he started. She knew where he was going and refused to let him. "Chancesa""

"No. I don't want to hear about the chances you'll never get better. I believe in miracles. I have to. You were mine."

"Hero worship. Useless."

She did smile then. A real smile. "My case of hero worship has kept you shaved and fed. Don't knock it."

His eyes slid over her cheek and centered on her mouth. "Never."

Grace knew if she let herself, she'd stay here and put off what she knew she had to do. It was time.

Time to say good-bye.

"I'm going to change your sheets before I go to work my shift in the kitchen; then I'm going to hop in a car and drive until I see the ocean."

"Bring me a sh.e.l.l?"

"Two, if you're good."

She had mastered changing the sheets with someone lying in the bed while caring for her comatose mother. Torr was a lot heavier, but Grace had gotten stronger and managed it without trouble.

She was going to miss that strength.

While he was lying on his side, she slipped the palm-sized, p.r.o.nged disk from her pocket and pressed it into his skin, right over the scar left by the creature that had paralyzed him. A drop of blood slid over his back, but she wiped it away on the dirty sheets.

On anyone else, the sharp, barbed p.r.o.ngs on the disk would have hurt going in, but Torr never felt a thing.

She finished her work and got Torr looking comfortable again. "Want to watch some TV?"

"No. Tired."

"I'll close the curtains, then, so you can sleep."

She pulled them shut over the sliders, dousing the room's only source of light. A thin strip of sunlight slipped under the curtains, guiding her feet.

Grace went back to Torr's side, and before she lost her nerve, she leaned down and kissed him, telling him without words how much she loved him. How much she was going to miss him.

His lips were cool, and she could feel him struggling to move them against hersa"trying to deepen the kiss.

She didn't let him keep struggling. The wound to his pride would be too painful, and she didn't want that for him.

"Soft," he whispered, slurring the word.

Grace smiled down at him, committing his handsome face to memory. It was the one image she wanted to take with her and hold close.

"I love you," she said. She hadn't meant to admit it, but the words spilled out, the feeling too big and powerful to be denied a voice.

His pale eyes widened and his mouth moved as he started to say something.

Grace turned and ran. She didn't want to hear him tell her not to love him, that he could never love her back. She didn't want to hear him tell her that they had no future together. She knew that. She knew that he was an ancient warrior from a strong, magical race and she was a mere human. She knew she was a fleeting moment in his long life when he was the center of her short one.

She knew all these things and still couldn't stop herself from loving him.

Grace raced all the way back to the empty suite she'd prepared. The key card she'd stolen opened the lock without incident. It would have been nicer to do this in her own bed, surrounded by familiar things, but she didn't want her brother to find her. That wasn't fair to do to him after the difficult life he'd already had.

A swelling wave of fear broke inside her, making her hands shake. For a brief moment, she let herself consider turning back from her course.

But where would that leave Torr? At the rate he was going, he wouldn't even be able to swallow soon, wouldn't be able to talk. What kind of life was that? He had so much to offer the worlda"so many people who needed to be saved the way he'd saved her and her brother.

She owed him this. Even if she hadn't loved him, she had a responsibility to repay him for saving her and her brother's lives. She had a responsibility to the countless others he would save when he was whole and healthy.

Hesitating was the most selfish thing she'd ever done and she knew it.

Before she could lose her nerve again, Grace positioned the matching disk, sticking it to the wall with a glob of putty so it lined up just right. She stripped off her shirt and bra, moved so the p.r.o.ngs of the disk aligned against her spine, and shoved back with all her weight.

The metal teeth sank into her skin, stealing her breath with the pain. It streaked through her, consuming her world. Then, after a few moments, there was nothing. No pain, no feeling at all.

That nothingness began to spread down her spine, into her legs. Fast. Much faster than she'd expected.

She stumbled toward the mattress lying on the floor, where she had food and water stacked within reach. She'd hidden so no one could reverse the process until it was too late, but because of that, she didn't know how many days it would be until someone found her. It wouldn't do Torr any good if she died of dehydration before this magical device had finished its work.

She pulled a sheet up, covering her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s, but even that small effort had left her panting. So much for her plans to drink and eat. She knew now that the process was happening way too fast. Hopefully, it would finish before she died of thirst.

An odd, vibrating cold slid through her in the wake of the numbness. It climbed up her body, inching higher with every pa.s.sing second. Soon, her ribs were gone, then her shoulders. Her arms were next, then her fingers.

Fear and satisfaction mingled together, causing Grace to panic even as she smiled.

It was working. Whatever had happened to Torr was being transferred to her through the device Gilda had given her. She was taking on his paralysis, freeing him.

She imagined the look of surprise on his face as the feeling came back to his limbs. He'd be weak at first, but he'd get strong fast. She knew he would. He'd be back to his old life, wielding a sword against the demons before her next birthday.

Tears slid from her eyes, wetting the hair at her temples. She was going to miss their time together so much. She'd never again touch him or hold his hand or stroke his hair.

And then she closed her eyes and saw his face and felt the silky texture of his hair sliding through her fingers when she washed it, the rough stubble of his beard when she shaved him. A hundred little memories were right there, waiting for her to call on them and calm the panic that weighed her down.

She might never walk again, never feel again, but she'd always have the time they'd spent together to keep her company.

Chapter 7.