He could only pray it was someone he could bring around.
Chapter Five
Matthias knew the moment he was no longer alone: The light around him intensified, which meant a door had been opened, and that didn’t happen for no reason.
His right hand curled in on a reflex, as if there should have been a gun against his palm. But that was all he could do. His body was immobile from pain, sure as if he were chained to whatever he was lying on—a bed. He was in a bed…and the ambient beeping told him what kind. A hospital. He was still in the hospital.
Was he never going to get over—
His thought processes ground to a halt at that point.
Nothing but a black hole.
No idea what had gotten him here. No clue why his body hurt so much. No…Jesus, he knew his first name was Matthias and that was it.
Panic opened his eyes fully—
There was a horrified woman standing at his bedside, her hands up to her face, her expression one of shock. One of her eyes was bruised and there was a bandage on her forehead. Darkish hair was pulled back. Pretty eyes. Tall…she was tall—
Beautiful eyes, actually.
“I’m so sorry,” she said hoarsely.
Huh? “About…” His voice was rough, his throat raw. And one of his eyes wasn’t working right—
No, the thing wasn’t working at all. He had lost half of his vision a while ago. That was right, back when he was…
He frowned as his thoughts fell off that cliff again.
“I hit you with my car. I’m so sorry—I didn’t see you coming. It was so dark out, and you came into the road before I could stop.”
He tried to reach out a hand, a compulsion to calm her overriding his pain and confusion. “Not your fault. No…no tears. Come…”
On some level, he couldn’t believe anyone would cry over him, now or ever. He was not the type of man who inspired that kind of reaction.
Not him, no. Why that was true, though, he didn’t know….
The woman came a little closer, and he watched with his one eye as she extended her soft, warm hand…and slid it against his palm.
The contact made him feel warm all over, like he’d been submerged in a bath.
Funny, he hadn’t been aware of being cold until she touched him.
“I’m squeezing,” he said in his broken voice. “In case you can’t tell.”
She was tactful and didn’t comment on the fact that she clearly hadn’t had a clue he was putting any effort into the contact. But he was. And as their eyes held, for some reason he wanted to point out that he hadn’t always been broken. Once, not long ago, he had been able to stand proud, run far, lift much. Now he was a mattress with a heartbeat.
Not because she’d hit him with her car, though. No, he’d been broken for a while.
Maybe his memory was coming back?
“I’m so sorry,” she said again.
“Is that how you…” He motioned up to his own face, but the gesture just made her focus on him—and her wince suggested it was tough for her to look at how ugly he was. “You were hurt, too.”
“Oh, I’m fine. Have the police come and talked to you yet?”
“Just woke up. Don’t know.”
She took her hand from his and rummaged around in a bag the size of a small duffel. “Here. This is my card. They spoke with me while I was getting treated, and I told them I accept all responsibility.”
She turned the thing to face him, except his vision refused to focus.
And he didn’t want to look anywhere but into her eyes.
“What’s your name?”
“Mels Carmichael. Well, Melissa.” She touched her own chest. “I go by Mels.”
As she put the card on the little rolling table, he frowned, even though it made his head pound. “How were you hurt?”
“Call me if you need anything? I don’t have a lot of money, but I—”
“You weren’t wearing a seat belt, were you.”
The woman looked around like maybe she’d gotten that from the police earlier. “Ah…”
“You should wear a seat belt—”
The door burst open, and the nurse who strode in was all business, making like she owned the place.
“I’m right here,” she announced, as she marched over to the machinery behind the bed. “I heard the alarm.”
His immediate impression was of a lot of breasts. Tiny little waist. Long brunette hair thick as a duvet, shiny as a china plate.
And yet she made his skin crawl. To the point where he tried to sit up, so he could get the hell away from—
“Shh…it’s okay.” As the nurse smiled, she all but shoved Mels Carmichael away. “I’m here to help.”
Black eyes. Black eyes that reminded him of something else, somewhere else—a prison where you were choked by darkness, incapable of getting free—
The nurse leaned down, bringing them closer together. “I’m going to take care of you.”
“No,” he said strongly. “No, you will not….”
“Oh, yes, I will.”
Warnings shifted around the edges of his consciousness, things he couldn’t quite capture sending up alarms like smoke trails before bombs exploded. He got nowhere with any specifics. His memories were like camouflaged bunkers in a landscape viewed with night goggles; he knew his enemy had set up fortifications, but damned if he could visualize them in any detail.
“If you don’t mind,” his nurse said to Mels, “I need to take care of my patient.”
“Oh, yeah. Of course. I’ll just…yeah, I’ll go.” Mels leaned around the other woman to glance at him. “I guess…I’ll talk to you later.”
Matthias had to look around the nurse as well, his stomach muscles clenching as he shifted his weight—
The nurse blocked the view. “Close the door behind you, will you. That’d be great. Thanks.”
And then they were alone.
The nurse smiled at him and leaned her hip on the edge of the bed. “How about we clean you up.”
Not a question. And, man, he suddenly felt naked—and not in a good way.
“I’m not dirty,” he said.
“Yes, you are.” She put her hand on his forearm, right where the IV lines went into his vein. “You are filthy.”
From out of nowhere, strength began to funnel into him, the energy burrowing in and inflating his flesh with health, sure as if he had had good nights of sleep and days filled with rest and plenty of food.
It was coming from her, he realized. Except…how was that possible?
“What are you doing to me?”
“Nothing.” The nurse smiled. “Do you feel different?”
Staring into her eyes, the dense, cloying black seemed as irresistible as it was repulsive—and he didn’t know how long they stood there like that, linked by her hand, that one-way exchange like a miracle drug.
“I know you,” he thought out loud.
“Funny when you feel that way about a stranger.”
The power entering him felt evil, and very familiar. “I don’t want—”
