Lord of Capra (2 page)

Chapter Two

Evana crept closer
to the hospital bed, trying her best to not make a sound. The nightshift was on
duty and the hospital was at its quietest. Now was the best time to approach
him without too much risk of discovery. She wanted to get a good look at the
sleeping male before informing Nemesis she wasn’t interested. Humor the ghost ship,
she convinced herself. What harm could there be in that?

She neared the
bedside and saw he slept soundly on his back with his face turned away from the
door. She crept to the opposite side in order to study him in the subdued
light.

His thick, light
blond hair spread across the pillow in varying lengths, all untamed. One errant
strand curled ever so slightly as it rested along a chiseled jaw line. His
cheekbones looked more prominent than she thought might be healthy. An
aristocratic nose, not too thick brows and strong chin all came together to
form the most handsome face she believed she’d ever seen.

Reluctant to look
away, she forced her attention from his face in order to make out his form
beneath the light sheet covering him. He had the shoulders of a giant, wide
chest, long tapering torso, narrow hips and legs that seemed to go on forever.

By the gods. He’s
huge.

His lower legs
spilled over the end of a bed that was too short while his shoulders were
barely contained within the rails. Evana hoped Nemesis wasn’t eavesdropping on
her wild thoughts as she desperately tried to calm her reaction to this man the
ghost ship had insisted was the proper choice for her. She gazed at him in
wonder until she realized her canines had lengthened. An unfamiliar compulsion
stirred to life within her. It took her a few moments to banish the strange
urge and retract her fangs. Now in control, she shifted her attention to his face
once more. Ice blue eyes captured her.

Curse the gods.

Blink
, she commanded in
desperate silence.
Just blink.
If he’d only close his eyes for an
instant, she’d be gone, nothing left but a figment of his imagination.

She gasped as a
strong hand wrapped around her wrist, but Evana couldn’t bring herself to look
away.
Not a danger.
The fleeting alien thought soothed a sense of panic
rising within her at his touch.
You are stronger
.
You can easily
break away from him
. Without her approval, her free hand came across to
rest lightly on top the very masculine one gripping her wrist.

Insanity.
Traitorous insanity.
She silently protested as her lips parted to speak.

“I am sorry. I did
not mean to startle you,” she heard Nemesis speak for her.

“Who are you?”

His voice was deep
and sensual. The sound calmed her frazzled nerves, and she relaxed some as she
leaned over the bed to move a little closer. His grip on her wrist eased as
soon as she stroked the back of his hand. Inside her mind she heard Nemesis.
You
take over from here, pilot. I will do no more.

*

“Who are you?” Drake
asked the question again.

He was almost
afraid to hear the answer. He must be dead, his whole life just a grotesque
memory, and she was a beautiful angel come to carry him to…

“I’ve come to heal
you.”

Nope.
This was just
another one of his sick nightmares. He really needed to wake up before his
dream girl morphed into something frightening. It was difficult since her eyes
entranced him. They sparkled like jewels, so real he could lose himself in
their soft glow. Glow? Glowing eyes weren’t part of his waking reality.

“Your eyes…gotta
wake up,” he muttered, mesmerized by her.

His odd angel
smiled kindly as she pressed a button on his bed rail. The room lights went
from low to bright, giving him a clear view. Her eyes were normal, but he could
have sworn…

“You’re not
dreaming, Harrison Drake. I’m here to help you, if you wish.”

 He gawked at her.
About average height, she was dressed in scrubs. On her they looked out of
place, or perhaps
she
looked out of place. He couldn’t decide. Either
way, she wore them well, as they did little to conceal her athletic form.

Long hair, black as
the darkest night, cascaded over her shoulders and framed a face that could’ve
launched ships in years gone by. Exotic beauty exuded from her in waves. Olive
skin, incredible green eyes and luscious, full lips that begged to be kissed,
lured him.

“Help me…how?”

He managed to
stammer through his aroused state, and hoped like hell his dick wasn’t erecting
a noticeable tent. At least that part of him still worked, sometimes too well.
Could he be dreaming? If so, it was the most vivid and unusual wet dream he’d
ever conjured.

“Take this.” She
produced a small vial from her pocket and offered it to him.

He pushed himself
to a sitting position. Reluctantly, he released his grip around her wrist and
took the vial.

“What is it?” He popped
open the top, smelled the dark concoction and wrinkled his nose.

“Medicine.”

“It smells a little
familiar,” he muttered, balking at drinking the contents. He noticed she kept
glancing at the door in a nervous manner.

“Drink! And I’ll
visit you again tomorrow night.”

 He brought the rim
to his lips, then paused, unsure.

“Drake, I promise
you’ll walk again, but you must drink this.”

He came to a
decision, and mumbled, “What the hell.” Dream medicine couldn’t hurt. He closed
his eyes and downed the contents.

He choked a bit on
the thickness, but the taste wasn’t objectionable at all. In fact, it was too
delicious to be medication. Once he opened his eyes to tell her, she was gone.

No goodbye?
He looked down at
the vial only to find that it too had disappeared from his hand. However, the
flavor in his mouth still lingered.

There was something
about the taste he recognized. He’d smelled it, tasted it, before many times.
In battle, in fights. His mind connected with the memory.
Blood.
She’d
given him blood?

I’m going crazy.

Having a dream
about a beautiful woman was one thing, but drinking blood had to rank up there
with the weirdest of nightmares. He slumped back on the bed. Maybe he could
conjure up her face again and drown himself in those unbelievable eyes for a
few more minutes before the…

“Good morning!” His
charge nurse was back.

“Good morning,” he
responded as much to her surprise as his own.

* * * *

It was noon and
Drake sat in his wheelchair, anxious to leave the hospital. Earlier that
morning he’d showered, dressed and packed his few belongings all under the
watchful scrutiny of his occupational therapist.

“You must be able
to take care of yourself when you leave here and go home.” She’d repeated the
same warning on a daily basis. He thought she should’ve been a drill instructor
for the Marines. “Do it like this! Don’t try to move that way!”

He’d detested
learning what she’d tried to teach him, but due to her persistence, he was able
to leave and live independently, starting today. Now that he’d “graduated” he
felt embarrassed by his lack of appreciation for her help. He’d been a horrible
patient, and he wouldn’t blame any of the doctors, nurses, therapists or even
the dieticians for being glad to see him leave.

Eventually, his
curiosity about his strange visitor got the best of him and he’d asked the
little blonde nurse if she knew a black-haired, green-eyed one who worked the
nightshift. She’d told him no. And she’d gone on to explain that the only
nurses on duty the night before had been men.

His disappointment
at the news surprised him. Normally, he tore through relationships with women
fast and hard. He wasn’t cruel or cold-hearted about it, and he was always up
front about any expectations Miss Right Now might be entertaining. There simply
was no room in his life for a serious relationship. He was married to his
career—the military. Sure, his situation had changed, but he still had no
intention of “hooking up” with any woman on a permanent basis, especially now.

So what was so
intriguing about his mystery visitor last night? He didn’t have a clue, but he
wanted to see the woman of his dreams again, if for no other reason than to
prove he hadn’t been dreaming. At least that’s what he tried to convince
himself of since he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

“Knock, knock!”

Josh, Drake’s best
friend and Marine buddy, poked his nearly bald head through the semi-open
doorway. “You ready to break out of this place?” He shouted the question in
defiance of good manners and shoved the door wide open to swagger inside.

Like Drake, he too
was on the large side, and the room suddenly grew much smaller. The pixie-like
nurse scurried along behind his obnoxious friend and tried her mother hen best
to slip around him. No doubt trying to maintain hospital quiet. She shouldn’t
have bothered.

“About time!” Drake
shouted back in a matching tone and laughed along with his pal. The little
nurse scrunched closer into the door, making more room to allow them to pass
through.

They took an
elevator to the ground floor, crossed the lobby and ended up outside the
hospital entrance. All the while, Drake spun the wheels of his chair, keeping
up with his friend, thankful Josh hadn’t once offered to push him.

“Here we are!” Josh
gestured toward a brand new shiny black Camaro parked at the curb. He opened
the passenger door for Drake to take a look inside.

“Your ride?” Drake
was impressed. “Nice! How fast?”

“Hurry up and get
your butt inside so I can show you!”

Josh practically
poured Drake into the passenger seat, then stowed the wheelchair and baggage in
the trunk before he shoved himself behind the wheel. The Camaro peeled out of
the parking lot. Tires squealing, it fishtailed its way onto the main road and
gained speed up the freeway access ramp.

It was a quick trip
to Drake’s apartment.

Chapter Three

Evana was frantic.

“Calm yourself,
pilot. There is no reason for your agitation. The surface transport seems to
have achieved maximum speed and is now operating within acceptable—”

“I am calm! And
it’s an automobile! That’s what they call them.” She lectured her ship. “And I
didn’t spill my blood just so he could go out there and smash into a-a…whatever
they call those support…things!”

“Concrete walls,
perhaps?”
Nemesis
offered.

“Yes!”

Evana fumed, pacing
in front of the wall display she watched, keeping track of Drake. The driver of
the automobile was a menace. A part of her wanted to slit his throat for
endangering her mate.

She came to a dead
stop.
Her mate?
What was she thinking? Evana drew in a slow deep breath
while she banished all thoughts about Drake being the perfect mate out of her
mind.

Gradually, she
calmed down. She knew full well Nemesis could transport him to safety before there
was a crash. Evana’s own blood made it possible, just as it was now possible
for them to locate him anywhere on the planet.

Soon.
Tonight she’d see
him again. How would he react? Would he remember her?

Oh gods. What’s
wrong with me?

Was she actually nervous
about meeting him again?
Absurd.
She was a woman—a very mature,
centuries-old, self-confident woman. He was a man of Earth’s twenty-first
century with a death wish perhaps, but he was still just a man.

She’d visit him
tonight…no. She wouldn’t wait until darkness. She’d go to him that very
afternoon and tell him the truth about her. She had to explain about Nemesis.
Yes.
Honesty.
That’s what she should do.

He must make the
decision for himself. She had no intention of trapping a mate. He had to want to
be with her, desire her, not for her blood alone or the loyalty compulsion that
came with it. That he might one day love her was her greatest and most secret
wish.

“The automobile has
stopped. Your male companion is entering his ‘apartment.’ I believe that is the
correct word.”

“Nem!” Evana fretted
once again. “Should I just appear inside his dwelling? Or would it be best if I
alerted him to my presence? A knock at the door, perhaps?”

She couldn’t
decide. To just pop in might make him defensive, but to knock seemed wrong. She
really didn’t do that anymore—ever.

“Pilot…”
Nemesis began.

“Oh no!” Evana
wailed. “It’s been over two thousand years since we’ve visited Earth. What
should I wear?”

“He is a human
male. The skin covering your human form will please him well enough.”

* * * *

Drake settled back
on the plush leather couch inside his living room. His friend had stayed long
enough to ensure he was safe inside the apartment before jumping back into the
Camaro and racing away.

He’d met Josh during
his first semester in college. They’d been attending Texas A&M University
on football scholarships. After a few days of practice and trouncing each other
into the hard turf, they’d decided to share a dorm room. They’d become good
friends in no time.

Academically,
Drake’s weakness was math, which didn’t bode well for someone going for a
degree in Construction Science. He’d wanted to become a project manager after
he graduated. Josh was a math whiz, but what he’d known about equations hadn’t
seemed to help when it came to chemistry or the other sciences. Those were
Drake’s strongest subjects. They’d tutored each other, had made good grades and
had some fun.

Well, they’d had
fun for most of the first two years—football, girls, football and more girls.
The spring semester of his sophomore year had started off great until the day
before spring break. Drake had received word his parents had been killed in a
plane crash. A commuter plane in the Bahamas had gone down. No survivors. With
that news, his entire world had come crashing down in seconds.

Instead of joining
his parents in Nassau, he’d spent his spring break in a daze, funeral plans,
financial obligations and property dispersal. It’d gone on and on. At twenty
years of age, he’d been clueless. The lawyers and his uncle had helped
themselves to whatever money was left over after things had been settled. To
this day he didn’t understand why he was penniless when before his family had
lacked for nothing. All he’d had left was a small sum of money in a savings
account in his name, a pat on the back “good thing you can play football” words
of encouragement from his only relative and his “crotch rocket” motorcycle.
He’d hoped he could afford the fuel.

Once spring break had
ended, he’d returned to school still in an emotional vacuum. He just hadn’t
known what else to do. Josh had been there, but his buddy had a best girlfriend
now, and they’d been inseparable. So he’d concentrated on his studies and had
made good enough grades to maintain a 3.0 average. He’d dreaded finals since he
had no idea what to do during summer break.

Drake had had trouble
thinking even one day ahead, much less trying to plan for an entire summer. A
practical voice inside his mind had kept repeating, get a job. It’d sounded a
lot like his father’s.

Meanwhile,
loneliness and depression had been his faithful companions. Right before his
last test on the very last day of the semester, while he’d been thoroughly
wallowing in his misery, Josh had returned to the dorm with an announcement.
Jill, his girlfriend, was pregnant and they planned to marry. His friend had
seemed happy and excited at the prospect. On top of that, Josh had told him he
wasn’t coming back to college. In fact, he had plans to join the military—the
Marines.

He’d thrown a
handful of literature onto Drake’s lap, saying, “I’m gonna have a family to
support soon. And the military might be exactly what you need to get over your
pity party and get off your ass. Start living again.” Josh had bolted from the
dorm room before Drake had been able to get up and knock him out for it.

Later in the day,
after he’d taken his last final, barely passing it, he’d read through the
pamphlets. The opportunities had seemed appealing and the pay hadn’t sounded
half-bad either. Plus, he’d always wanted to travel. Okay, so they hadn’t
promised the Caribbean or the French Riviera type of destinations, but he’d be
somewhere other than Texas. And he’d get to use a gun.

He’d been first in
line at the recruiter’s office the next morning. Two weeks later, he and Josh
had arrived at boot camp and had stumbled off a bus while being harassed by a
loud-mouth, tough-looking drill instructor. It’d been intimidating and
humiliating all at the same time. After a few days of being told to “get their
shit together,” they’d taken to the experience like hogs to slop, loving every
dirty, grimy moment. Afterward, they’d been good Marines and even better men.

And today, on the
way to Drake’s apartment, Josh had surprised him again with more news. His
buddy had announced he was getting out. His friend had one last deployment and
then he’d be done with military life.

Josh wanted to be
home with his family now that his children were older. The eldest, a girl,
played sports—baseball and soccer. Josh had realized he’d missed seeing them do
so many things.

A perfectly valid
reason, but Drake suspected there was more to it. In all likelihood, Josh’s
wife didn’t want her husband to end up like him, or worse. Jill’s father had
been asking Josh to help in the family business, begging actually. The concrete
company needed a fulltime office manager to keep an eye on the finance portion.
It was a perfect fit for Josh. He planned to attend college in the evenings
some to finish his accounting degree.

Before leaving
Drake’s apartment, he’d said, “Let me know when you’re ready to go to work. The
company is growing fast. They need help in the office. And I hear the
receptionist is an ex-cheerleader for the Dallas Cowboys.”

Laughing, Drake had
shot a pillow at him. “Screw you!”

Josh had ducked,
easily dodging it. “Supper. My house, tomorrow evening. I’ll pick you up at
six.”

“Fine, I’ll see you
then. Now get out of here and go home to your family.”

Drake slumped on
the couch alone once more. So very much alone. He tried to think of something
positive about his situation, but all he could come up with was the fact his
apartment was on the ground floor. At least he didn’t have to navigate a flight
of stairs in a wheelchair. On the other hand, making his way down the hall to
his bedroom and the bathroom was right up there on the top of his challenge
list.

He looked around
for the remote control, thinking he might watch the news or maybe catch a
football game to pass some time. No luck finding it on the couch, he searched
between the cushions. Not finding it there or on the coffee table, he twisted
around, looking back toward the kitchen and spied it on the counter top.

“Just great.”
Frustrated, he heaved a sigh, then grunted in discomfort.

The incision on his
lower back had been prickling all morning. Just a minor irritation at first,
then on the drive from the hospital it’d increased steadily to a slight burning
sensation. Even the older wound on his right side had tingled. Now his back
hurt more.

He knew without
looking his pain medication was still packed away with his clothes inside the
baggage sitting at the front door. He considered the effort it’d take to
retrieve it, weighed his options and decided to give it a little more time. He’d
been pretty active all morning. Maybe if he rested it’d ease up. There was also
the possibility of dozing off and seeing her again. After all, she’d promised
to visit him tonight. How else could she find him if not in his dreams?

Cautiously, he
pushed himself over to lie down. He reached for his left leg, which was nearest
the cushion, lifted it onto the couch, removed the athletic shoe and sock and
repeated the action for his right one.
Better.
His back pain eased, but
the burning continued. It seemed to spread downward to his backside, now under
his thighs.
Very odd
. Should he feel that?

Confused, he
wondered if the sweatpants he’d pulled on that morning could be causing some of
the sensations. He sat upright, thinking only of inspecting the clothes. He
swung his legs off the couch as he’d done many times in the past.

Stunned, he remained
motionless. He couldn’t do what he’d just done. It wasn’t possible, but there
he was, sitting on his couch, knees bent, feet on the floor. And it was cold.
It was absurd.

“What the hell?”

He stared at his
feet, not quite sure what to believe. He took a chance and tried to move his
toes. They wiggled normally. Amazed at his success, he raised his heels off the
floor, feeling his calves contract.
Okay
, he challenged himself
, try
something harder.

He raised one leg
at a time, bringing knee to chest, then lowered each one. He repeated the
exercise. Except for the burning sensation in his back, he felt fine. His legs
seemed as strong as ever. Drake held his breath, planted his feet firmly on the
floor and pushed off the couch. Able to stand for the first time in many
months, an incredulous sigh escaped his lips. Everything seemed okay. He felt a
bit dizzy, but he stood.

Be cautious
, a voice he rarely
listened to urged him. Should he call his doctor? The hospital? Maybe just sit
back down? Not likely.

Drake hesitated
only a second before trampling caution. He sidestepped around the coffee table
and strolled into the kitchen. He grabbed the telephone, thinking he should
tell someone about his miraculous recovery. Who would he call? Josh? The
doctors? What if it were only temporary and it went away?

He considered the
implications. He’d look like a fool. No, he’d give it some time. If he could
walk in the morning, then he’d damn well walk into his doctor’s office. At the
moment, he simply wanted answers.

Overcome with
curiosity, he practically sprinted down the hallway toward the bathroom while
ripping off his t-shirt along the way. He stood in front of the mirrored
vanity, searched for the jagged scar on his right side and discovered, to his
amazement, it was gone. He ran his hand over the undamaged skin in disbelief.

He twisted around,
reached behind his back and grabbed the bandage covering the incision. He tore
it off. Only a thin pinkish line remained where the incision had been. Before
his eyes it faded away, leaving no trace of a scar. He thought to look at the
bandage. It was bloody with a few specks of metal and uncut sutures.

“This is fucking
impossible.” He shook his head at his mirror image, still not quite believing
what his own eyes were seeing.

He stripped off his
sweatpants just to make sure his legs were normal and not some bizarre science
experiment. He stood in front of the mirror, wearing only his briefs, and was
relieved to see everything about him was normal. It just shouldn’t be.