Dark Protector Page 7

  “Nice try, Mr. Bane.” She gave him an impudent grin as she dropped her jacket and purse on the seat and slid in across from him. “I know you too well to buy the innocent act.”

  “Can’t say I didn’t try.”

  He reached for the menu and pretended an interest in how many different sauces and pastas the restaurant offered. The rich smell of basil and oregano scented the air, reminding him that it had been too long since he’d last eaten. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

  He noticed Laurel had closed her menu and set it aside. “Already made up your mind?”

  “I always have the same thing—the pizza with artichoke hearts and mushrooms.”

  “No meat?” He should have known.

  “Nope, I like my pizzas strictly vegetarian.”

  He dragged his eyes back to the menu, but tucked away that little bit of information about her. Was this what a schoolboy crush felt like? He wouldn’t know because he could barely remember ever being that young.

  The waitress appeared at their table and he handed her the menus. “I’ll have the spaghetti and meatballs. The lady will have the artichoke pizza.”

  “Anything to drink?”

  He pegged Laurel for a white wine drinker, but she surprised him again. “Bring me a dark ale.”

  “Make that two.”

  “I’ll be back with your salads and a basket of breadsticks.”

  Silence settled between them. He had no idea of how to carry on a casual conversation, so he settled on business instead.

  “Thanks again for your patience with Trahern. He has a tougher time of it than most.”

  She kept her hands busy tearing a paper napkin into neat little strips. “I know he does, and it’s worse every time. I just wish I knew why.”

  “That’s how it is for us. I’d think you’d know that as well as we do.”

  Her eyes snapped up to meet his. “Of course I know that, Mr. Bane—but I don’t have to accept that it can’t be changed. I am a physician and a scientist: it’s my job to figure out what makes you and the others tick.”

  He kept his voice low but didn’t try to keep his temper from showing. “I don’t want to be an interesting specimen in your laboratory. If that’s what you want from me, then I’m out of here.”

  She actually laughed and rolled her eyes. “Devlin, if I were into lab rats, I’d be at a university biology department playing with rodents. I chose to work with human beings because that’s what I wanted to do.” The smile faded. “And I never forget for one minute that’s what you are. Sometimes I think I am more aware of that than you and some of your friends are.”

  She leaned forward. “And that’s exactly my point. Why do you change? And why do you change at different rates? For example, you’re decades older than Trahern, but if he continues at current rates, his readings will soon pass yours.”

  She leaned back in her seat. “Forget I said that. I can’t believe I just discussed another patient’s case with you—but I care about Trahern, despite his less-than-charming personality, and I feel like I’m running out of time to save him.”

  As if anyone could, and Trahern would be the first to admit that. He’d never been particularly friendly, even with the other Paladins. Over the past year he’d become totally withdrawn, hardly speaking to anyone. And on the occasions when the barrier was quiet enough that the Paladins could kick back and relax, he rarely joined the others for a drink.

  It was the way of their kind. As their connection with their humanity diminished, their tolerance for the company of others disappeared. All that remained was a sense of duty and the desire to kill. As long as that need was directed at the Others, a Paladin could function. Eventually, however, he would turn rabid, killing indiscriminately. It was the Handler’s job to cull the rogues before they slaughtered those they’d been born to protect.

  Which brought him right back to Laurel Young, with her earnest desire to make life easier for the Paladins under her care. The very idea should have been laughable. Generations of Paladins had lived out their lifetimes knowing that when the end came, it would be in a rage of madness. They asked for no quarter and deserved none.

  And his Handler, with her gentle eyes and gentle touch, had no business being around them.

  “Devlin? Are you all right?”

  Those very hands came across the table to touch his, bringing him back to the moment. He studied the contrast between Laurel’s slender fingers and his callused hand. Soft versus hard. Hands meant to heal reaching out to hands meant to kill. What kept her from being repulsed by him? Did she have any idea of how many had died at the point of his sword?

  He suspected that knowing wouldn’t change anything. Considering how many Paladins she’d stitched up and revived, she had a better idea than most the cost of the ongoing war they fought to protect their world.

  Since she was looking as if she really wanted an answer, he lied. “I’m fine.”

  Before she could call him on it, he spotted their waitress heading toward their table. “Our food’s here.”

  Laurel accepted the diversion, but the way she looked at him warned him that she hadn’t abandoned the discussion. Giving in to the temptation to spend time with her had been a huge mistake. Here, among the ferns and the heady aroma of Italian spices, he could almost pretend theirs was a normal relationship. The kind where two friends shared a simple meal. Or better yet, two about-to-be lovers savoring the last few moments before they crossed that line, exchanging heated looks and promises of what was to follow.

  He wanted her with the same ferocity as his need to protect the barrier, as if it came from the very depths of what made him a Paladin. He didn’t know what to make of it. Paladins never married and rarely had relationships that lasted more than a few weeks. For one thing, women had an uncanny way of sensing when a man was a bad risk. Men with the primitive instincts of ancient warriors might prove entertaining in the sack, but they weren’t likely to stick around for the long haul.

  And if he thought carrying Laurel off to his bed for a few nights of hot sex would cure the problem, he’d be up for it, pun intended. He shifted uncomfortably in the seat, the direction of his thoughts having had a predictable effect on his anatomy.

  “Stop it, Devlin.”

  “Stop what?” He set his fork down, curious to know what she was talking about.

  “Stop looking at me as if you were a big cat about to pounce on a mouse.”

  He couldn’t help but grin, something he rarely did. “Can I help it if you’d make such a tasty little morsel?”

  She blushed but met his gaze head on. “Devlin, I’m your Handler. We shouldn’t. We can’t.”

  She was right. It didn’t seem to matter, though.

  He tossed his napkin down on the table, then enough money to pay the bill at least twice over. “Let’s get out of here and take a walk.”

  She nodded, her eyes huge. “All right.”

  Outside the sky had clouded over in the short time they’d been in the restaurant. That was fine. Gloomy fit his mood. Without speaking they turned north and then west, away from Pioneer Square and down toward the waterfront.

  The silence was only slightly more comfortable than the dangerous conversation they’d been having in the restaurant. He was acutely aware of her. The breeze played with her hair, the short dark curls calling out to be touched. Her long legs matched his, stride for stride.

  If it were only this intense physical desire, he could ignore it. But he also liked the way she stood up to him and the ferocity she brought to the care of her patients. He knew without question she’d bring that same intensity to bed, and he wanted to experience that firsthand. She warmed him in places that had been cold for far too long.

  “I’ll walk you home.”

  “Not yet. I didn’t get to finish my pizza, so you owe me an ice cream.”

  She was offering him a few more minutes in her company. Maybe he was weak-willed, but too damn bad. Maybe they could be just friends f
or the duration of an ice-cream cone. Then he’d take her home, before one or both of them lacked the strength to walk away.

  “Fine. One scoop or two?”

  “It’s definitely a two-scoop kind of day. And I want the good stuff, the kind that will clog your arteries but tastes so good that you don’t care.”

  Then she surprised him by looping her arm through his as they searched the piers for an ice-cream stand.

  • • •

  Laurel loved her condo, with its view of Elliott Bay and the Seattle skyline. But at that moment, she wished she lived miles away from the city, someplace that would take her far longer than the next few minutes to reach. But there it was, just ahead of them at the end of the block. She would key in her security code, her door would open, and she’d cross the threshold by herself. Devlin would walk away, back to his own place, both of them alone and hurting.

  But she wouldn’t let that ruin the last few minutes of what had been an amazing escape from her normal life. After they’d had ice cream, they’d wandered the shops along the piers, looking at everything from expensive artwork to the tackiest souvenir stands. She’d seen it all before, but this time everything seemed brighter and more beautiful because she was sharing it with Devlin.

  “We’re here.”

  “Which one is yours?”

  She pointed to the brick building on the corner. “That one on the right.”

  “I should have guessed it, with all those flowers.” He stopped walking and looked around.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Your front door is too exposed.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her toward a nearby alley between two old buildings.

  “Too exposed for what?”

  Devlin stopped abruptly and gently pushed her back against a brick wall, protected from the view of the street by a stack of boxes. “Too exposed for this.”

  Then his mouth found hers. He tasted of chocolate mint and heat. This was what both of them had been wanting since leaving the lab behind. She felt crushed between the rough brick and a powerful male body, but it was so incredibly good and right.

  Feeling daring, she wrapped one leg around his, depending on his strength to keep her from falling. He surprised her by lifting her other leg and wrapping it around his hips, settling the center of his need in the cradle of her own heat.

  She whimpered.

  He thrust his tongue in and out of her mouth with the same rhythm he rubbed his body between her legs, telling her without words what he’d really like to be doing. When his hand slipped between them to squeeze her breasts, she lost all control as a climax hit her without warning.

  She felt Devlin smile against her mouth. “Damn, I knew you’d burn like this in my arms.”

  The wave of passion left her boneless and shaken. Devlin made no move to set her down, his face buried in her hair, his hands soothing.

  “Did I hurt you?” he murmured near her ear.

  “Right now, I couldn’t be better.”

  “We’d better get you home. I’m due back at the Center early in the morning.” He eased her back down to the ground, holding on to her in case her legs weren’t ready to support her yet. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

  He stepped back, putting a little distance between them, as if that would be enough to temper the passion that still shimmered between them.

  Knowing he was going to walk away, even though he should, made her feel wronged and bitchy. “I’m a big girl, Devlin. I can make it that far by myself. Besides, as you said, it’s too exposed.”

  “Fine.”

  His easy capitulation made her even madder. She turned on her heel, intent on showing him that she could play hardball, too. Before she’d taken a second step, his hand clamped down on her shoulder and spun her around. Then she was right back where she wanted to be, in his arms and kissing him for all she was worth. There was a bit of temper coming through from his side, as well.

  Gradually his touch gentled; his kiss coaxed rather than demanded, and they both eased apart. Laurel did her best to ignore how much it hurt. They walked in silence to the door of her building. Neither of them seemed to know what to do next.

  “You’d better go.” She allowed herself the small privilege of reaching up to straighten his collar.

  He flinched, but stood his ground. “Do you want me there in the morning when Trahern wakes up?”

  “I can handle Trahern.” She could, too, even if he did his best to scare her.

  Devlin’s mouth softened into an almost smile. “I know you can, tiger. Hell, most of us live in mortal fear of you. But if you want me there, say so.”

  She was tempted but decided against it. “I appreciate the offer. But I don’t want him to feel like I need backup again, or that we’re ganging up on him.”

  “Good night, Laurel.”

  “Thanks for a wonderful time, Devlin.”

  He nodded, his face settling back into its normal harsh lines.

  Then he was gone, disappearing back into the shadowy world that seemed to be so much a part of who he was. She knew without asking that she wouldn’t see him again until they carried him across the threshold of her lab, broken and bleeding. A tear burned down her cheek, but she made no effort to stop it or any of the others that followed in its path.

  Some things in life were worth crying over, and her heart told her that Devlin Bane was one of them.

  • • •

  The night had passed in fits and jerks, peaceful sleep always just beyond his reach. His dreams had been filled with images of Laurel—of what might have been if he’d been invited into her condo, into her bed, into her. Hell, it didn’t help that he already knew firsthand the sweet taste of her kiss and the smooth feel of her skin. And the memory of those deliciously long legs wrapped around him, holding him next to the damp heat of her body, wasn’t going to fade in this lifetime. Or the next.

  He’d given up on sleep long before the first rays of sun broke over the mountains to the east. A pot of coffee and two-day-old pizza for breakfast did little to improve his mood. Neither did using up every drop of hot water in the tank trying to scrub off the last bit of her scent from his skin. If only the memories were as easy to rinse away. With any luck, there’d be a crisis needing his attention when he went into work early.

  Although there were closer entrances to the Center than the one down near Pioneer Square, he needed to walk off some of his mood—even though no one ever expected Paladins to be cheery and fun to be around. They were all loners at heart, although some of the younger ones still had friends, both inside and outside of the Paladins.

  He didn’t miss it. It took too much effort to guard every word he spoke, to keep up the lies about what he did for a living and why he disappeared for long stretches of time. After he had a few deaths under his belt, he could no longer tolerate large crowds for extended periods of time without risking losing control of his hair-trigger temper.

  Funny, he’d felt none of the usual irritation with Laurel despite all the crowded shops that she’d dragged him through. For a few hours, he’d forgotten who and what he was. He suspected that he would continue to pay dearly for that lapse in the dark hours of the night when he was alone with his memories. But all things considered, he couldn’t regret a single second of the time he’d spent with her.

  One of the side benefits of being a Paladin was an underdeveloped conscience. Remembering that cheered him considerably. Just in time, too, because Penn was on his feet and waiting for him outside the Center’s entrance.

  “They were about to send out search parties.” Penn’s teeth shone whitely against the dirt on his face.

  “Why?” It couldn’t be the barrier. He would have felt that himself.

  “I don’t know, but Cullen and D.J. said if I heard from you that I should tell you to hustle your ass.” He settled back down in his usual spot and tugged a ragged blanket up around his shoulders. “And before you ask, they seemed more excited than worried.”

  “Thanks fo
r passing along the message.”

  As soon as he was inside, he went in search of his friends. Cullen was at his desk reading a book; he had a passion for dark fantasy novels. Devlin didn’t care for them himself. They came a little too close to the life he actually lived, and he read to escape reality.

  “I hear you were looking for me.”

  Cullen stuffed a torn envelope in the book to mark his spot and set it aside. “Actually, it’s D.J. who has something he wants to show you. He’s probably at his computer, hacking into another classified site.”

  Devlin shook his head. D.J. was an electronics genius and he got his kicks playing cat and mouse with cyberpolice. So far, he was ahead a zillion to none. The other Paladins had a betting pool going on how long it would be before he slipped up and got caught. Not that anyone would ever put D.J. behind bars for his not-quite-harmless pranks; the Regents, who ran and controlled the Center and therefore the Paladins, had too much clout for that. They protected their own, even from themselves.

  Sure enough, D.J. was sitting cross-legged on his chair, his keyboard in his lap. His fingers were a blur as they danced over the keys as he laughed and taunted the screen.

  “Too late, you careless bastards! Next time you’ll make sure to close any back doors into your system.” After the CPU processed his last command, he hit the delete button, then turned to face Devlin and Cullen and grinned. “That was fun.”

  “We do not want to know.”

  “I wasn’t going to tell. Let it suffice to say that the military will be upgrading their security procedures shortly.”

  He managed to make it sound as if he’d just done them a favor by slipping around in their files. Who knows, maybe he had.

  Cullen leaned against the wall and crossed his legs at the ankles. “I assume you showed them the error of their ways just in time for our new software to hit the market.”

  Clearly insulted by that suggestion, D.J. gave his friend a disgusted look. “I’m being patriotic, not mercenary.”

  Neither Cullen nor Devlin bought that one. D.J. played tag with other computer geeks because it was a cyber pissing contest, one that D.J. always won.