Part 11 (2/2)
”What kid?”
”The one who clerks down at the precinct house. Tall, lanky, kind of average-looking? I don't know his name, but I'm pretty certain he was there the night I gave my statement about the murder. Today I saw him in the Common. I thought he was watching me, actually, and I... ” She trailed off, shaking her head. ”I ran after him like a crazy person, accusing him of spying on me.”
Lucan's hands stilled in her hair, his warrior's instincts coming to full attention. ”You what?”
”I know,” she said, obviously misinterpreting his reaction. She dispersed a mound of bubbles with a sweep of her hand. ”I told you it was stupid. Anyway, I chased the poor kid all the way into Chinatown.”
Although he didn't say as much, Lucan knew that Gabrielle's initial instincts had been spot-on about the stranger watching her in the park. Since the incident had occurred in broad daylight, it couldn't have been the Rogues-a small blessing-but the humans who served them could be equally dangerous. The Rogues employed Minions in all corners of the world, humans enslaved by a draining bite of a powerful vampire that rid them of their conscience and free will, leaving only unquestioning obedience in its wake.
Lucan had no doubt whatsoever that the man who had been observing Gabrielle was doing so in service to a Rogue who commanded him.
”Did this person hurt you? Is that how you got those injuries?”
”No, no. That was my own doing. I got myself all freaked out over nothing. After losing track of the kid in Chinatown, I just lost it. I thought a car was coming after me, but it wasn't.”
”How can you be sure?”
She gave him a sheepish look. ”Because it was the mayor, Lucan. I thought his chauffeured car was coming after me and I started running. To top off a perfectly awful day, I fell flat on my face in the middle of a crowded sidewalk and then had to limp home with bloodied hands and knees.”
He cursed under his breath, realizing just how close she had come to danger. For chrissake, she had actually gone after the Minion by herself. The thought chilled Lucan more than he'd like to admit.
”You need to promise me you'll be more careful,” he said, knowing he was scolding but unwilling to bother with politeness when she might have gotten herself killed today. ”If something like this happens again, you need to tell me right away.”
”It's not going to happen again because it was my mistake. And I wasn't about to call you or anyone else at the station about this. Wouldn't they just love it if I phoned in to report that one of their file clerks was stalking me for no apparent reason?” s.h.i.+t. His lie about being a cop was tripping him up d.a.m.ned good now. Even worse, it might have put her in jeopardy if she 'd called the station looking for ”Detective Thorne” and attracted the attention of an embedded Minion instead.
”I'm going to give you my cell phone number. You can always reach me there. I want you to use it anytime, understand?”
She nodded as Lucan turned on the faucet, then ran clear water into his hands and over her silky, burnished waves.
Frustrated with himself, he grabbed a washcloth from an overhead shelf and thrust it down into the water. ”Now let me see your knee.”
She lifted her leg from under the flotilla of bubbles. Lucan held her foot in one palm, carefully was.h.i.+ng the angry -looking abrasion. It was just a sc.r.a.pe, but it was bleeding again now that the warm water had soaked the wound. Lucan ground down hard on his jaw as the fragrant, scarlet threads wove a delicate trail down her skin and into the pristine foam of the bath.
He finished cleansing both of her injured knees, then gestured for her to let him attend her palms next. He didn't trust his voice to work when the combined one/two punch of Gabrielle's nude body and the scent of her fresh, trickling blood was slamming into his skull like a jackhammer.
With an economy of attention, he dabbed at the sc.r.a.pes on her palms, painfully aware of her rich, dark gaze following his every movement, the pulse at her wrist beating quickly under the pressure of his fingertips.
She wanted him, too.
Lucan started to release her, but as her arm twisted slightly on its retreat, he spotted something troubling. His eyes lit at once on a series of faint marks that spoiled the flawless peach skin. The marks were scars, tiny slices cut into the underside of her forearms.
And she had more on her thighs.
Razor cuts.
As if she'd endured repeated and h.e.l.lish torture when she was little more than a girl. ”Jesus Christ.” He swiveled his head back to look at her, fury no doubt rampant in his expression. ”Who did this to you?”
”It's not what you think.”
He was fuming now, not about to let this one slide. ”Tell me.”
”It's nothing, really. Just forget-”
”Give me a name, G.o.dd.a.m.n it, and I swear, I will kill the son of a b.i.t.c.h with my bare hands-”
”I did it,” she blurted out in a quiet rush of breath. ”It was me. No one did this, just me.”
”What?” Holding her fragile wrist in his hand, he turned her arm over once more so he could inspect the faded network of crisscrossing, purplish scars. ”You did this? Why?”
She withdrew from his loose grasp and sank both arms under the water, as if to s.h.i.+eld them from his further inspection.
Lucan swore low under his breath, and in a language he rarely spoke anymore. ”How often, Gabrielle?”
”I don't know.” She shrugged, avoiding his gaze now. ”I haven't done it in a long time. I got over it.”
”Is that why there's a knife lying in the sink downstairs?”
The look she gave him was pained and defensive. She didn't like him prying, no more than he would like it himself, but Lucan wanted to understand. He could hardly fathom what might drive her to dig a blade into her own flesh. Over and over and over again.
She scowled, staring at the dissipating suds surrounding her. ”Look, can we just drop the subject? I really don't want to talk about-”
”Maybe you should talk about it.”
”Oh, sure.” Her small laugh held an edge of irony. ”Is this the part where you suggest I need to see a shrink, Detective Thorne?
Maybe go someplace where I can be put in a medicated stupor and under a doctor's close watch for my own good?”
”Did that happen to you?”
”People don't understand me. They never have. I don't understand myself sometimes.”
”Don't understand what? That you have a need to hurt yourself?”
”No. That's not it. That's not why I did it.”
”Then why? Good G.o.d, Gabrielle, there must be upwards of a hundred scars.”
”I didn't do it because I wanted pain. It wasn't painful to me.” She drew in a breath and pushed it out between her lips. It took her a second to speak, and when she did, Lucan could only stare at her in stunned silence. ”It was never about causing hurt, not to anyone. I wasn't burying traumatic memories or trying to escape some kind of abuse, despite the opinions of several so -called experts appointed by the state. I cut myself because... it soothed me. Bleeding calmed me. It didn't take much, only a small cut, never very deep. When I'd bleed, everything that was out of place and strange about me suddenly felt... normal.”
She held his unwavering gaze with a new air of defiance, as if a gate had been opened somewhere deep inside her and a heavy burden had been freed. In some small way, Lucan realized that was just what he'd witnessed here. Except she still was missing a crucial piece of information that would make things click into place for her.
She didn't know that she was a Breedmate.
She couldn't know that one day a member of his race would take her as his eternal beloved and show her a world unlike she had ever dreamed of. Her eyes would be opened to a pleasure that only existed between blood-bonded pairs.
Lucan found himself hating that nameless male who would have the honor of loving her.
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