Phantom's Touch: Sexy Paranormal (Book 2, Phantom Series) (14 page)

“I did this,” he said.

She tensed, but did not move. “You tried to kill me?”

He blinked rapidly, as if he’d just realized what he’d said. “No, of course not. Damn it, Lauren. I’m pissed off at you for taking the sword, but I would never. . .You know I’d—”

“Then what are you talking about?”

He pressed his lips together, and the eyes she’d once gazed into with such admiration and trust blinked with uncertainty. “You need to watch yourself. You need a bodyguard. What was the name of that guy you used two years ago when you started getting those creepy letters?”

“The letters weren’t creepy,” Lauren said, her last words punctuated by an uncontrollable yawn. “And I don’t need a bodyguard. This was an accident.”

“You don’t know that,” he countered.

“And you don’t know that it wasn’t.”

Ross moved away from the side of the bed, and Lauren was too tired to follow him, even with her eyes. She allowed her lids to drift closed and concentrated only on the sound of his shoes. Step. Step. Step. Step. Pacing. He always paced when he had a problem to work out. Step. Step.

Shuffle?

She forced her eyes open, blinking. Ross stood, eyes wide, frozen in place.

“Ross?”

He jumped. “What was that?”

Terror flashed in his eyes, but Lauren was too close to unconsciousness to care.

“Leave.”

Aiden whispered the command into Ross’s ear at such close range, the man’s arms flailed through him in surprise. Aiden felt nothing. He wasn’t exactly in one place, was he? He was. . .everywhere. He’d suspected that he could concentrate his spirit into a semblance of a translucent body if he so desired, but for now he existed everywhere and nowhere all at once, contained only by the walls of the sterile room.

The sword called to him. Helen had tucked the bag containing the weapon beneath the spare bed, and while he was grateful to be near the woman who’d awoken his soul, he wanted nothing more than to be separated from the forged metal, imbued as it was with Rogan’s vile magic. While Ross was in the room he resisted the pull. Ross, who had kept Lauren from freeing Aiden for years. Ross, who had belittled her to his friends when she was not within earshot and had placated her with words of love he did not mean. Ross, who had had a most amazing woman as his wife, and yet had squandered her affections.

And now he sought to torment her when she should be recovering?

Not bloody likely.

The man had no honor. Had he still been in his own century, Aiden would have called him out. Instead he concentrated, drawing all the power and strength he possessed in this transitional state against Ross. The man jumped again when Aiden’s invisible flesh pressed nearer.

“What the. . .?”

Aiden focused on his fist, drawing all of his energy into the place where his hand and fingers and knuckles curled into one ball of pressure. But before he could betray his upbringing by striking a man without warning, a woman dressed completely in blue shot into the room.

She bypassed Ross and immediately attended to Lauren, who had fallen asleep again. After ensuring that her charge was unharmed, she tossed a suspicious glare at Ross, tempered only by her soft voice.

“Sir, are you all right?”

Aiden stood down. He supposed the man did look rather ridiculous, scrunched up against the presence of someone he could not see.

“Did you hear that?” Ross asked.

Aiden floated nearer to Lauren, who was now sleeping peacefully in the bed. Though she was still connected by various tubes and wires to machines, Aiden had learned that the soft, consistent beeps meant she was on the mend.

“Hear what?” the nurse asked, eyeing Ross suspiciously. “Ms. Cole is just fine. The doctor will be in—”

Aiden couldn’t resist. He returned to Ross and used the energy he’d built around his hand to give the man a violent shove. Ross screamed like a lunatic, but when the nurse rushed to him, he shot out the door and disappeared. The nurse followed, shouting for him to stop, and then the door swung closed and the noise from outside faded away, leaving only Aiden’s chuckle to compete with the sounds of the medical apparatus buzzing and beeping throughout the otherwise quiet room.

Soon after, the nurse returned, accompanied by a doctor who had treated Lauren earlier. Fit and tall and dressed in a crisp white coat, the man engendered in Aiden confidence in the doctor’s healing abilities. He’d taken good care of Lauren so far. From what he’d overheard, she’d come close to death and had escaped that fate only because of something called “CPR.”

“Who was that you were chasing?” the doctor asked.

The nurse’s brow furrowed even as she hovered over Lauren, efficiently tending to her in ways that did not wake her. “The husband.”

Former husband
, Aiden thought.

The doctor picked up a chart dangling from the end of the bed and perused the information, then examined Lauren himself. She stirred this time, and Aiden started at the jolt of pleasure he received when she opened her eyes again.

“You’re going to be fine, Ms. Cole.”

The doctor explained the various procedures that had been performed on her as a result of her injury. He outlined the treatment, which, at this point, consisted mainly of rest.

“When can I leave?” she asked.

“Not for a few days, I’m afraid.”

“I have a movie to shoot,” she argued.

The doctor smirked. “You are the star, aren’t you? And you were injured on the set. I’m thinking no one is going to complain if you take a few days to recover.”

She opened her mouth as if she wished to comment or ask more questions, but the doctor assured her he’d return later, so she closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep. Aiden felt his hold on his consciousness slipping. Lauren lived. She would recover from the strange accident. He could no longer fight the pull of the sword.

***

Luckily, hours later, when the darkness descended on the room like a veil, power drew back into Aiden’s soul and spread like lifeblood through his body. A not wholly unpleasant tingle spread into his fingers and toes, and a thrumming in his ears pumped in time with his heart. In the same rush of life, magic burbled from the center of his chest and rushed into his veins, hot and thick and scented with metal, like polished steel.

Cold. Hard. Deadly.

The magic no longer belonged to Rogan, but the shadows of his influence remained. At the dawn of his reawakening, Aiden had sensed the crazed sorcerer’s presence. Rogan had yoked him to a weapon he’d imbued with evil, and the vile blackness seemed wrought into his soul like the gold in the handle of the sword.

Shadows pulsed within him. He could feel them, just as he could feel the powerful weapon tucked into a bag beneath him.

From the other side of a curtain he heard a feminine mewl. Aiden swung off the spare bed, tore the fabric aside and then instantly stilled.

A white-coated man leaned over Lauren’s bed. Instinctively Aiden stepped back, not wanting to reveal his presence to the doctor. But after a second he realized the lights in the room remained dim—too dim for a physician to examine a patient. Lauren made another noise, but this time, the sound was strangled. Through clenched teeth, the doctor hissed directly into Lauren’s face, “Where is the sword?”

He was clutching her shoulder with one hand while a knife glinted in the other.

Aiden gave her no time to reply. He grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted the joint until the slim knife flew from his grip, clattering to the floor.

The man wailed in pain and spun, his face hidden behind a mask, though his dark eyes flashed with rage. “What the—”

Aiden heaved the man away from Lauren. The intruder sailed over a wheeled tray and tumbled to the ground with a metallic crash.

“Who are you?” Aiden demanded, positioning himself between Lauren and her attacker. He glanced over his shoulder. Her eyes were open, but unfocused. One hand grasped at her throat, but she did not speak.

The assailant scuttled toward the door.

In a flash Aiden blocked his path.

“Holy shit! How did you—”

Aiden snatched the man by the collar and lifted him to his feet, then higher, his shoes dangling and his clothing tightening around his neck.

“Tell me who you are before I tear your head from your shoulders with my bare hands.”

Nothing but choking noises gurgled from the man’s gasping mouth.

“Don’t,” Lauren croaked, her voice a forced whisper. “Don’t kill him. I called. . .the nurse.”

With a growl, Aiden flung him hard against the nearest wall.

“What is your purpose here?” he demanded, but the door behind him slammed open, and a nurse burst into the room. Aiden called on the magic to fade into the shadows, but the man on the ground continued to struggle with his now invisible assailant. The nurse screamed at the stranger on the floor, which brought a burly orderly into the room.

“Tried. . .to. . .kill. . .” Lauren forced the words out, and each syllable drained the color from the nurse’s face.

“Get him! Hold him!” she commanded.

The orderly had him in a headlock so quickly, the attacker had neither time nor opportunity to say more.

In a rush of activity a uniformed officer appeared. The nurse positioned herself beside Lauren, her arms outstretched protectively as the attacker rambled and raged about a disappearing man.

“He attacked me! Nearly broke my neck! Then, ‘poof,’ he’s gone. She saw him! Ask her!”

The nurse turned to Lauren.

“He’s crazy,” Lauren replied. “I woke up with him on top of me. He had a scalpel or something. He nearly killed me.”

The guard was dragging the man out of the room when someone else forced his way inside—someone in a dark suit, with a clipboard and a pinched face—demanding to know who was causing the ruckus in his hospital. In the confusion, the attacker threw his head back hard, knocking the guard off of him, and bolted out the door. Aiden nearly sprang forward to pursue, but caught himself.

He could not go far. The sword saw to that. The orderly, the guard and the man in the suit gave chase. The nurse remained at her post, speaking in soothing tones, reassuring Lauren, whose blue eyes were wide with terror.

“You’re all right. Please, Ms. Cole. You need to calm down.”

“But security—”

“They’ll catch him, I swear,” the nurse said, but the quaver in her voice was not reassuring. “You need to lie back. Your heart might not be able to take another shock. Please, Ms. Cole, you need to lie back.”

Lauren struggled against the nurse’s hands, but she’d been weakened by the drugs. Aiden, still invisible by choice, leaned close to Lauren and whispered, “I’m here, my lady. Do not fight.”

The nurse jumped back and spun around. “Who was that?”

She turned on the lights, then scrambled around the room, searching every possible hiding place for another intruder.

“Tell her to leave,” Aiden suggested, this time pressing close to Lauren and speaking directly into her ear.

Lauren, who’d relaxed into the pillows with the curve of a smile on her lips, waved her hand at the frantic nurse.

“You’re making me dizzy.”

The nurse stopped. “I heard someone.”

“Why don’t you go see if they caught that man?”

“But I shouldn’t leave you—”

The guard slipped back inside, panting. “Ms. Cole, are you—”

“Did you catch him?” she asked.

The guard glanced sheepishly at the ground. “Not yet. The hospital is in lockdown. We’ll find him. But the chief wants me to stay with you until we’re all clear.”

Lauren shook her head. “I’m sure he meant for you to wait outside.”

The guard shifted uneasily, but Lauren gave the nurse a quelling look, so she shooed the man out. “You can stay right outside by the door. I’ll wait with—”

“No,” Lauren interrupted. “I’ll be fine. The other patients must need you. I just want to go back to sleep.”

Reluctantly the nurse complied. Though alarms sounded and frantic voices from the other side of the door testified that the entire floor was in a panic, Lauren looked utterly bucolic the moment the nurse shut off the light and, with a promise to return when the attacker was caught, left the room.

Aiden made himself visible just as a twinkle of a smile danced across Lauren’s face.

“You saved my life,” she said. “Thank you.”

He gestured at his now-solid body. “You did the same for me, my lady. I wonder, however, why your life is in such constant jeopardy.”

“Never was before yesterday,” she muttered. “He said he wanted the sword.”

Aiden frowned. “So did your former husband. Perhaps he—”

“—hired someone to rough me up?” Lauren asked. “Doesn’t seem like his style.”

Aiden’s chest filled with a rage that might have exploded had Ross Marchand been in the room. His veins sizzled with a bloodlust he hadn’t experienced since the battlefields of Scotland, and which he had hoped he’d never feel again. “Perhaps his style has changed.”