Chosen by Desire (36 page)

“Wait.” Holding her still, he placed his hand over the cut.
J
n ch’i
flared, and he began to breathe in tandem to its pulsing. Focusing his chi in his hand, he let it flow into her.

“Feels tingly.” Carrie sighed, nuzzling his hand.

The iron in her blood responded to him, and he focused on binding the metallic particles. Slowly, the flow of blood stopped under the clot he created at the surface of the wound. Once he was satisfied it would hold, he changed how he channeled his chi, making the palm of his hand cold like the flat of a sword at rest. Gently so he wouldn’t jar her, he rested his hand right over the lump.

He tried not to notice how it looked like it’d grown bigger.

She sighed and her eyes fluttered shut. “Nice.”

“Stay awake.”

“Not going to fall asleep. Just enjoying the coolness.” She rubbed her head against his palm.

“You’ll hurt yourself if you press too hard.”

Her smile was faint, but it reassured him unlike anything. “You won’t let me.”

True. Never again. His arm tightened around her. He had to force himself to keep his hand light on her forehead.

As if she read his mind, she set her hand on top of his and pressed. “No, that feels good.”

He grunted, not entirely convinced of that.

“In fact, I’d say you’re my hero. You not only kicked some bad-guy bootie, but you’ve done something to make my head feel better.”

“What happened?”

“This?” She touched the back of his hand. “He knocked my head against the Dumpster.”

He gritted his teeth as a wave of rage swept through him. If that bastard were still here, he’d kick her ass all over again. “I thought you gave me all the scrolls from the monastery.”

Carrie froze, then pushed his hand away and kneeled in front of him. “I thought so, too. But then I got back home and there was one lodged deep in my bag. I didn’t keep it on purpose, I swear. I was going to return it to you tonight.”

He waited for the usual feeling of betrayal, but all he felt was anger and concern—anger that anyone had dared to hurt her and concern over what the attacker may have gotten.

Carrie tugged at his shirt. “Are you angry with me?”

“No.”

“You are,” she said miserably.

Yeah, because she’d foolishly placed her life in danger. At least it hadn’t been the Book of Water. That was in one of his safes. “What did the scroll contain? Do you know?”

“Um.” She bit her lip, wincing. “The list of all the Guardians through history. To now. Including you, Gabe, and Rhys.”

Damn. That was as bad as one of the Scrolls of Destiny being taken. “Do you know who she was?”

“Who?”

“The woman who attacked you.”

Carrie gaped. “It was a
woman?
”

“Yes.” He brushed a tendril of hair away from her face, the better to see how her wound looked. It hadn’t gotten worse, but it was still livid. “You didn’t know.”

“I assumed it was a man.” Her hand caught his. “I’m so sorry. I know I blew this. But I’ll find out who it was and get it ba—”

“
No.
” He took her by the back of her neck, lowering his face so she could see how serious he was. “You will not try to find out anything. You’ll leave this to me.”

Worry lined her beautiful features. She stared into his eyes for a long, silent moment, and then she shook her head. “I can’t do that. This was my fault, and if you got hurt trying to fix something I did, I’d never forgive myself.”

“Get hurt?” The idea was ridiculous. She was the one who could get hurt—who already got hurt. He glanced at the lump on her head and rage suffused him all over again. “You won’t go anywhere near this person.”

“But—”

“Enough.” He began gathering her things, putting them back in her bag.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking you home. My home.”

“In Santa Monica?”

“My home here.” He held out her bag. “And there will be no debate about it.”

She accepted it, looking like she wanted to argue. But then her expression cleared and she just studied him, a faint frown to her mouth. She nodded and stood up. “Okay.”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Just like that you’re agreeing?”

“Yeah. For you.” She slung the bag over her shoulder. “But don’t think I won’t make you agree to some concessions of my own.”

His suspicion grew. “Like?”

“Later. For now, just take me home.”

He kissed her temple and, supporting her by the elbow, escorted her to his car. At home he could protect her and keep her safe until he figured out how to rectify this situation. For his own sake.

H
er head throbbed, and she felt like she’d taken on all of Emperor Qinshihuang’s warriors. Despite it all, sitting in Max’s car, Carrie felt oddly at peace.

She glanced at Max’s profile, his features stern and focused on getting them to wherever it was he lived. “I didn’t know you had a home in San Francisco.”

“I didn’t. I recently bought it.”

When he’d been keeping tabs on her, or after when he wanted to spend time with her? She closed her eyes, wanting to ask. Only she wasn’t sure the answer mattered anymore.

The smooth purr of the car stopped, and she opened her eyes. A garage. A pretty sizable garage for the city, but there were only two other cars in it. She knew nothing about cars, but she could tell they were both as expensive as the one she was currently in.

Max leaned toward her. “You awake?”

“Mm.” She stretched as she unbuckled her seat belt.

“Stay.”

She would have rolled her eyes if it didn’t hurt so much. But she knew he meant well. And, actually, she wasn’t sure her legs would carry her.

He hopped out of the car and came around to her side. With tender care, he helped her from the seat and guided her through the garage and into a long, industrial-looking hallway. He stopped in front of the elevator and pressed the up button.

She rested her head on his chest. His heart beat under her cheek, at a reassuring tempo that echoed inside her. “You’re not going to turn out to be a mad scientist taking me to his laboratory to commit strange experiments, are you?”

He glanced down at her, an eyebrow cocked.

“Of course, if the experiments are sexual in nature, I may be amenable.”

“Not sure you’re up for it.”

Given the way her head was starting to hurt, he was probably right. “I’ll lie there, and you can take charge.”

His only response was a quick glance at her before the elevator arrived.

She looked around as much as she could without jarring her head. “This looks like a freight elevator.”

“It was. It’s an old warehouse that’s been renovated.”

Renovated nicely, by the look of things, because she doubted the elevator was the original. Too modern and sleek-looking. “Ever watch
Fatal Attraction
?”

“Did you hit your head harder than I thought?” he asked as they reached their floor. He led her to an oversized door, unlocked it, and disabled the alarm before ushering her inside.

The dimly lit space looked cavernous. The wall on the far side was floor-to-ceiling windows that showed an impressive bit of San Francisco’s skyline. Even though there was such little light, she could see the outline of support beams in the middle of a large, open room with minimalist furniture, just like he’d had in Santa Monica.

Max guided her past the living area, past a kitchen area that gleamed even in the darkness, to a spiral metal staircase. When they reached the top, she saw this was the source of the lighting downstairs—the glow from the lamp by the bed. The enormous bed with pristine white covers.

Max motioned for her to sit on the bed and then strode to an opening in the wall to the right. A light came on seconds later, followed shortly by a rush of water.

The bathroom. Cool how it didn’t have a door, but you’d have to be intimate with whomever you lived with. If you lived with anyone.

Not wanting to think about that, she looked around the room. It was a loft within a loft—the railing at the end of the room seemed to overlook the downstairs.

Max came back and kneeled at her side. “Up for a bath?”

“A bath.” Just the thought of it was soothing, enough for her to drag her carcass up off the bed.

The bathroom was austere, just like she expected, all shiny metal with white accents and fluffy towels. Only instead of looking barren, it was refreshing. Of course, the sound of the running water could have had something to do with it.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and winced. No wonder he’d acted freaked out—the lump on her head looked bad. At least it throbbed only dully now, thanks to whatever it was he did to her.

He tested the water in the tub, one of those huge, two-person baths with jets. Apparently satisfied, he stuck his hands in his pockets. “Will you be okay on your own?”

“On my own?” She looked at the tub and then back at him. “You’re leaving me here?”

He frowned with concern. “Can’t you undress by yourself?”

Hands on her hips, she shook her head, which she regretted because the motion made her dizzy. “No, I can’t.”

“Does your head hurt?” He stepped closer to her and put his hand against the lump on her head.

Coolness hit her at once, and she moaned with how it eased the pain. “How do you do that? It’s like you radiate cold. Is it a Guardian thing?”

He stared at her blankly. She didn’t think he was going to answer, and that sent a spiral of disappointment through her. But then he said, “We’ll talk about that tomorrow. Right now you need a bath, some aspirin, and bed.”

She thought of the bed out there and pursed her lips. “You’re joining me, right?”

“In the bath?”

The shocked expression on his face made her grin. “Sure, there, too.” She lifted her arms. “Undress me. I’m helpless and hurt.”

His eyes narrowed. She knew he didn’t believe her. Of course, her grin might have been a giveaway. But he stepped forward and took the hem of her shirt.

She held her breath, lost in his not-so-cool gaze and the pulse of his body right in front of her. His fingers brushed her sides, and she gasped at the current that shot through her. He dragged the shirt over her head, slowly so his fingers never lost contact with her skin.

Her nipples pebbled. She glanced down and saw how they poked from her bra. She mentally patted her back for choosing to wear one of the sexy bras her mom sent her. If you have only one bra left in the world, better for it to be black lace than white cotton.

Her breasts tightened under his steady gaze. Without a word, he unsnapped the bra, eased it off her, and tossed it aside. His hands drifted to the waist of her jeans and plucked open the top button. Unzipping them, he pushed them down and waited for her to step out of them. She held his shoulders and lifted each leg one at a time, trying not to notice how his mouth was level with ground zero.

“Get in,” he said, his voice raspy.

At least she wasn’t the only one affected here. She sank her body into the tub slowly, sighing as the heat overtook her. The water lapped at her, soothing waves of comfort that took away some of her residual headache. “Are you joining me?”