Soul Bound (3 page)

Unaware of the battle raging within him, she approached him and proceeded to check his vitals. “You were found lying unconscious on the sidewalk in front of some sleazy bar, covered in blood. The paramedics brought you in.”

“What knocked me out?”

The nurse shrugged. “No one knows for sure. It was pretty crazy down at Pioneer Square last night. A full-blown riot broke out. Dozens of people got killed. You probably got caught in the crossfire, hit your head. You’ve been out cold for over twelve hours.”

She paused, crinkled her forehead again. “The kicker is there’s no sign of trauma. No head wound, no concussion. The doctors are downright baffled.”

Relief gushed through him when she finished her exam and stopped touching him. “What started the riot?”

“Who the heck knows? People are a rotten barrel, if you ask me. They look for any reason to beat each other bloody. Bunch of drunks and drug addicts with a taste for violence. That’s what I’m placing my bets on.” She looked different from when she’d entered the room, weak and deflated. “Sometimes I wonder why we even bother mending the lot of you. You’ll only be back again, most likely before the week is up.”

Her eyes widened, and she covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I said that out loud.” Panic laced her tone. “I should go.”

“Wait.” His fingers closed around her wrist, and the light instantly went out of her eyes. She didn’t look perky anymore. In fact, she looked old and beaten. “I need to speak with someone. Someone who saw me when I first came in.”

“That would be Lia—Dr. Lia Benson. She’s a resident here.”

He released her. “One more question. Where are my things?”

“Over there.” She indicated a small closet beside the bed. “Your watch is in the nightstand. Top drawer.” Then she scurried out of the hospital room like a rabbit escaping a wolf.

With a confused shake of his head, he sprang out of bed. He felt light, quick and strong, which struck him as odd for a guy who’d spent the last twelve hours in a semi-coma. As the nurse had said, a black leather jacket, a blood-smeared white shirt and a dark pair of jeans hung neatly in the closet. He checked all the pockets, pulled a heavy wallet from the jacket. The smell of Italian leather rose like a cloud to sear his nostrils. The first thing that struck him when he flung it open was the thick wad of twenty-dollar bills that lined the interior. He obviously hadn’t been mugged. A conclusion the flashy watch in the nightstand, a high-end Omega, corroborated.

He retrieved the driver’s license, which belonged to Jace Cutler. So now he had a first name to go with the second. Unfortunately, it still didn’t trigger a memory. The man in the photograph was a complete stranger. He quickly scanned the description provided: six-foot-two, dark brown hair, green eyes. The height felt about right. The guy in the snapshot had a cleft on his chin. He ran his thumb across his jaw and traced the slight indentation.

Suddenly curious, he headed to the mirror hanging over the pedestal sink. The man gazing back at him was no more familiar than this place, this room, the nurse he’d apparently scared half to death. He wasn’t very old, early thirties he guessed. He slanted a glance at the ID again, quickly did the math.
Yup, thirty-two.

Peeling off his hospital gown, he stood in front of the tiny mirror, as naked as the day he was born, studying himself. From the looks of it, he worked out regularly. His legs were long and lean, his stomach flat and ripped. But that wasn’t what shocked him. What blew his mind was that he didn’t have a scratch on him, not even an old scar to show he’d lived some kind of life. How did a person exist for thirty-two years and maintain skin as untarnished as a baby’s?

Another presence slowly invaded the room, one that made everything inside him come alive and the darkness retreat. For a moment, he felt almost human again. Almost.

Jace turned around, not caring that he didn’t have a stitch of clothing on him. The woman entering his room froze at the sight of him.

He squinted. Glancing at her made his eyes hurt. She was so damn bright, he needed a frigging pair of sunglasses just to look at her. The nurse who’d examined him earlier paled in comparison, and not because this woman was any kind of beauty. She was plain at best, with blond hair pinned in a ponytail and not a drop of makeup on. Still, something inside him recognized her.

She checked him out briefly before averting her gaze. “Looks like you’re feeling better.”

He couldn’t find his voice to answer. Waves of emotion washed over him, constricting his windpipe. He’d felt nothing since he’d awakened in this stifling hospital room, and all of a sudden he couldn’t get his feelings under control long enough to offer some kind of greeting. Her glow enfolded him, and the hunger returned with sharpened fangs.

“Katie, the nurse who was just in here, told me you were awake, but I had to see for myself.”

She took a step toward him, then another.

Please, don’t come any closer. I can’t stand it.

“Who—” The word scraped his throat. “Who are you?”

Her gaze latched on to his face. Confusion and a touch of fascination glimmered in her clear blue eyes. Right there and then, he could’ve sworn he glimpsed her soul, and it was a beautiful thing to behold, potent and familiar.

She shook her head, swallowed hard. “The person who watched you die last night.”

Lia found it hard to concentrate, especially with Jace standing there in his birthday suit, too perfect for words. No wonder her sister was so infatuated with him. The man was beautiful.

And dangerous.

He had the look of a predator. There was something dark and hungry about him, a sharpness in his gaze that made her want to recoil, even as everything inside her urged her to get closer.

“I’m Dr. Lia Benson.” She waited for the name to register, for awareness to trickle in. “Cassie’s sister.”

His expression remained blank. “I’m sorry, my memory is a little hazy right now. Who’s Cassie? And how could I have died when I’m standing right here, good as new?”

Concern inched into her bones and made her stomach clench. Ignoring the blistering sensation that had claimed her the moment she’d entered the room, she bridged the distance between them. As she advanced, she grabbed the sheet from the bed and tossed it to him. “Get decent, and we’ll talk.”

His slow, assessing grin was as potent as a touch. Fire spun through her, similar to the heat she’d experienced right before he’d flat-lined. “What’s the matter,
Doctor
? Never seen a naked man before?”

“Not one who’s dated my sister.”

“Right. What was her name again? Cassie?” He lazily wrapped the sheet around his waist.

Not that it helped much. That perfectly chiseled chest was still exposed, cut in all the right places. Strong, sinuous shoulders tapered down to a washboard stomach, where muscles bunched beneath unmarked skin. Just last night his chest had been split open, had gushed blood all over her hands. The urge to run her palm over his torso seized her. She needed to convince herself that he was real, that she wasn’t losing her mind. But she held back. Something elemental told her she couldn’t touch this man and remain unchanged.

“You really don’t remember her?”

“I don’t remember anything. Not even my own name.”

She frowned, confused. “There was no evidence of head trauma. Just the stab wound.”

“I was stabbed?”

“Not according to your chart.”

He crossed the room and sat at the corner of the bed, looking suddenly spent. “Dr. Benson, can you please stop talking in riddles and tell me what happened to me?”

“I wish I could.” Tension had her wringing her fingers like a nervous schoolgirl. “When you were brought in last night, you were bleeding profusely. You’d been stabbed in the chest, and one of your lungs had been punctured. I did everything I could to keep you alive until we could get you to surgery, but I failed. You died on my table. The time of death was eleven fifty-five. I called it.”

Skepticism drenched his features. There was no question he thought she was nuts. Still, she tamped down her anxiety and forced herself to go on. “A few minutes later, your heart started beating again. All the contusions had healed. The only evidence that anything at all had happened to you was the blood on your clothes.”

He rubbed his eyes, propped his elbows on his knees. “You actually expect me to believe I came back from the dead?”

“No.” Irritation spiked in her veins. “I hardly believe it myself. But you asked what happened, and I told you.”

“None of this explains why my memory’s a total blank. Or why I’m seeing things.”

She pulled out her small flashlight. “What exactly are you seeing?”

“An aura. Right now, there’s this gold halo pulsing off your skin. Don’t take this the wrong way, Doctor, but you’re too damn bright for me.”

For the first time since this whole ordeal started, her lips tingled with the desire to smile. “Let me have a look.” Gently, she tilted his head back and brushed her finger over his lid. A bolt of electricity poured out of him, spilled into her. Or maybe it was the other way around. She snatched her hand away.

Interest sparked in his spring-colored eyes. So she’d been right. They were green. Maybe she’d registered a lot more about the photograph than she’d believed.

“You felt that? The energy?”

Needles prickled every inch of her flesh. “We probably just shocked each other. It’s been known to occur on occasion.” She forced a smile, hesitantly reached for him again. This time she knew what to expect, and the current that zipped through her settled into a surprisingly soothing thrum. Her own lids grew heavy, and she nearly dropped her head back and lost herself in the lulling warmth of it.

He cupped her face with strong, brazen hands. The connection resounded deep within her, in a place that was just now coming alive. “You are pure heat, Lia. I want that heat, ache to possess it. To possess you.” His mouth was so close, she tasted the sweetness of his breath on her lips.

In that one crazy heartbeat when his presence consumed her, she almost grasped what he meant. Every corner of her being flared with awareness, and the violent need that shot through her nearly cut her off at the knees.

Reality rushed in to snap her back to her senses. He was Cassie’s boyfriend. It made no difference that he didn’t remember her or that they’d broken up last month. Lia had no business reacting to him this way. She was a professional. A doctor.

“Cassie told me you’re unnaturally gifted when it comes to women. I finally understand what she meant. Now are you going to behave and let me examine you?”

His gaze never strayed from her face. “Touch me again at your own risk.” A silent dare shimmered in his eyes, even as something dark and hypnotic churned in their depths.

This time, she refrained from laying her fingers on him and simply flashed the light over his irises. His pupils weren’t dilated, which ruled out a concussion. There honestly didn’t seem to be anything physically wrong with the man. “I’d like to run an MRI, in case there’s something we’re missing. Memory loss and distorted vision are both symptoms of head trauma. Or a neurological disorder. Have you been experiencing any migraines?”

“Nope. Physically, I’m in top shape.”

I can see that.

“How about numbness?”

“I was, until you walked in.”

Her heart spun, then slammed into her ribcage with a painful thud. “Let’s keep this professional, please.”

“Right. Professional. Is that what I am to you? Just another run-of-the-mill patient?”

“That’s exactly what you are.”

This time, his smile held no hint of humor. Intensity flowed off him in sheets. “In that case, tell me, why is your heart beating so fast I can hear it pounding in my head?”

She pocketed her flashlight and briskly secured a safe distance between them. “That’s impossible. You can’t hear my heart without a stethoscope.”

“You should know. You’re the doctor.” A silent challenge underscored his words, as if he was daring her to come clean, if not with him, then with herself.

“I’ll go schedule that MRI for you.” She retreated toward the door. “Try to get some rest.”

The staff lounge was quiet, empty save for Lia, who was busy pouring herself a cup of coffee, and that served Diane’s purposes just fine. She had a job to do. One that would require a great deal of concentration and privacy.

Silent as the wind, she breezed in and bolted the door with the power of her mind. Thankfully, Lia didn’t hear the lock click in place or the sound of Diane’s soft-soled shoes whispering over the carpet as she approached. She was too lost in thought.

That was the cross humans bore. A soul could be a cumbersome thing. Emotion clouded the mind and the senses, made a person weak and blind to the energy surrounding them.

Lia brought the coffee to her mouth, let the paper cup linger against her bottom lip for a few seconds. Shoulders hunched, she secured one arm around her middle, as if struggling to hold herself together.

Human beings were such weak, pathetic creatures—defenseless little lambs living in the constant presence of an invisible wolf. They thought they were safe, that their actions were their own, that their souls were immortal. But they were fooling themselves. If they knew what lurked in the dark—or in bright daylight—they’d never sleep soundly again.

This one had good instincts. She spun around before Diane could reach her, and that was saying a lot, because Diane was as fast as she was silent.

Coffee spilled to soak the front of Lia’s white lab coat. “Good God, are you trying to kill me?”

I wish I could.
Her life-force was compelling, strong and electric. The rush a soul this powerful would give her…

She chased the tempting thought from her mind. That wasn’t what she was here to do. An unexplained death was sure to draw the attention of the Watchers, something Athanatos was determined to avoid, at least until Cutler no longer posed a threat. If she was to become his queen, she had to do everything in her power to please him.