been reunited, he tried to turn over to sink back into deep sleep.
Something was wrong, though. Either his bed had shrunk or he was sleeping in a chair. His eyes reluctantly opened, first one and then the other. Son of a bitch, he was in a chair, not his decadently comfortable king-size bed. And the whimpers he’d been hearing weren’t from some lost animal, but Brenna crying in her sleep.
He managed to stand up, every joint in his body screaming in protest, and pulled the chair closer to the head of the bed.
“It’s all right, Brenna. I’m right here.” He rubbed her shoulder and back slowly, hoping the dubious comfort of his touch wouldn’t startle her awake. From the way she was crying, she was trapped in a dream, most likely a replay of the explosion. He hoped like hell that she wasn’t one of those people who dreamed in color. She didn’t need to see her father blown to bits in vivid clarity.
“Hush, Brenna. Don’t cry.”
Please don’t cry. He could face down a dozen Others armed with razor-sharp swords and not blink an eye, but a woman with a tear-streaked face unmanned him completely. He bet Devlin Bane, back in Seattle, would be rolling on the floor watching Blake try to comfort Brenna. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t be. Devlin was just about the biggest, baddest Paladin of all time, and now he was in love—with his Handler, of all people.
The two of them seemed very happy together, making all the other Paladins more than a little jealous. What Devlin and Laurel shared was much more than good sex; in all the years that he’d known him, Blake had never seen Devlin more content.
He suddenly realized that Brenna’s crying had tapered off. He slowly pulled back his hand, hoping the worst was over, but she began thrashing around until he put it back again. He left his hand on her shoulder, figuring it was little enough when she was in such obvious pain. After a few minutes, though, his back was protesting loudly over the awkward position.
He couldn’t stay that way for the rest of the night; it was hours until dawn. So, he did the only thing he could think of: he joined her on the bed. As long as he stayed on top of the covers and she stayed tucked nice and safe under them, her virtue would remain intact.
Would she have found comfort in his touch if she knew the truth about him? No rational woman would. Even if she could accept that he was hardwired to fight and kill Others, he was rapidly losing his humanity. The last time he’d been badly wounded, his Handler had bought extra strong chains just for him. That hadn’t kept him from trying to break free from that cold steel table, screaming for hours and shredding the skin around his wrists and ankles until they bled.
He could remember the pain in Devlin’s voice as he offered to end Trahern’s life permanently to stop his misery. He’d been so tempted to accept, but that would have been the coward’s way out. When his time came to be put down, he wanted it to count for something—not because he was afraid to face another day as a Paladin.
A woman like Brenna Nichols deserved a gentler man to comfort her, one who knew all the right words to brush away her nightmares. But selfish as it might be, that wasn’t going to stop him. When he gathered her into his side, she came willingly, snuggling in to rest her face on his chest with his arm wrapped around her.
It felt like heaven, even if the predictable effect on his body was a living hell. How many times over the years had he dreamed of this exact moment, holding her in his arms with her warmth and scent filling his senses?
Of course, in his dreams they were both naked and sated after a night of wild monkey sex—but this version would do.
“Quit pounding so loud, damn it. I can’t concentrate.”
Swan glared at him and went right back to whacking his fist on the wall every few inches.
“I said stop it!” Montgomery had his own investigating to do and listening to that racket
Something was wrong, though. Either his bed had shrunk or he was sleeping in a chair. His eyes reluctantly opened, first one and then the other. Son of a bitch, he was in a chair, not his decadently comfortable king-size bed. And the whimpers he’d been hearing weren’t from some lost animal, but Brenna crying in her sleep.
He managed to stand up, every joint in his body screaming in protest, and pulled the chair closer to the head of the bed.
“It’s all right, Brenna. I’m right here.” He rubbed her shoulder and back slowly, hoping the dubious comfort of his touch wouldn’t startle her awake. From the way she was crying, she was trapped in a dream, most likely a replay of the explosion. He hoped like hell that she wasn’t one of those people who dreamed in color. She didn’t need to see her father blown to bits in vivid clarity.
“Hush, Brenna. Don’t cry.”
Please don’t cry. He could face down a dozen Others armed with razor-sharp swords and not blink an eye, but a woman with a tear-streaked face unmanned him completely. He bet Devlin Bane, back in Seattle, would be rolling on the floor watching Blake try to comfort Brenna. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t be. Devlin was just about the biggest, baddest Paladin of all time, and now he was in love—with his Handler, of all people.
The two of them seemed very happy together, making all the other Paladins more than a little jealous. What Devlin and Laurel shared was much more than good sex; in all the years that he’d known him, Blake had never seen Devlin more content.
He suddenly realized that Brenna’s crying had tapered off. He slowly pulled back his hand, hoping the worst was over, but she began thrashing around until he put it back again. He left his hand on her shoulder, figuring it was little enough when she was in such obvious pain. After a few minutes, though, his back was protesting loudly over the awkward position.
He couldn’t stay that way for the rest of the night; it was hours until dawn. So, he did the only thing he could think of: he joined her on the bed. As long as he stayed on top of the covers and she stayed tucked nice and safe under them, her virtue would remain intact.
Would she have found comfort in his touch if she knew the truth about him? No rational woman would. Even if she could accept that he was hardwired to fight and kill Others, he was rapidly losing his humanity. The last time he’d been badly wounded, his Handler had bought extra strong chains just for him. That hadn’t kept him from trying to break free from that cold steel table, screaming for hours and shredding the skin around his wrists and ankles until they bled.
He could remember the pain in Devlin’s voice as he offered to end Trahern’s life permanently to stop his misery. He’d been so tempted to accept, but that would have been the coward’s way out. When his time came to be put down, he wanted it to count for something—not because he was afraid to face another day as a Paladin.
A woman like Brenna Nichols deserved a gentler man to comfort her, one who knew all the right words to brush away her nightmares. But selfish as it might be, that wasn’t going to stop him. When he gathered her into his side, she came willingly, snuggling in to rest her face on his chest with his arm wrapped around her.
It felt like heaven, even if the predictable effect on his body was a living hell. How many times over the years had he dreamed of this exact moment, holding her in his arms with her warmth and scent filling his senses?
Of course, in his dreams they were both naked and sated after a night of wild monkey sex—but this version would do.
“Quit pounding so loud, damn it. I can’t concentrate.”
Swan glared at him and went right back to whacking his fist on the wall every few inches.
“I said stop it!” Montgomery had his own investigating to do and listening to that racket
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