Free Fatal Call (New Breed Novels Book 4) by Martha Bourke Page B

up the peroxide from the coffee table. “Don’t be silly. It’s easier if I do it. Pull up your pant leg.”
    He rubbed his goatee. “Ah, Rose, I really don’t think—”
    “Come on. You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
    Was she kidding? He looked over at the couch. No. The floor seemed safer for some reason. He took off his leather coat and laid it on a side chair. “Okay. Let’s use the floor. I don’t want to get any blood on the furniture.”
    X sat down in front of the fireplace and rolled up his jeans. Rose turned on a second lamp and knelt down in front of him. For some reason, her hair was down tonight and a long, black strand brushed along his knee just a tiny bit. He closed his eyes. He didn’t dare look at her bent over him like that. Shit. His eyes were probably greener than his partner’s beer on St. Paddy’s. And then she touched his ankle. Mistake. A spark of heat ran from her hand directly to his cock.
    Ilah.
    “Ah, you know, Rose, why don’t I just take care of that. I’m not sure how deep it is.”
    She squinted at him slightly, like she was trying to read his mind. “I don’t get it. You took care of me. Why won’t you let me return the favor?”
    How about because I’m three seconds from taking you at every angle I can come up with.
    When she touched his leg again, he stood bolt upright. He grabbed the peroxide from the table and made a beeline straight for the bathroom. He closed the door and locked it behind him. His heart was pounding in his chest. He turned the faucet on and splashed some cold water on his face. The reflection in the mirror was more than a little troubling. Bright green, glowing eyes stared back at him, while a fine sheen of sweat formed on his forehead. The pedestal sink gave a groan and he realized it was the only thing holding him up. Barely. Fuck. He dropped the lid to the toilet and sat down before he fell down. Now what was he gonna do? He thought about texting Troy. He’d do him a solid and watch the condo for the night. That is, if his boy could stop laughing long enough. X took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Maybe he could meditate himself to death.
     
    Rose was still kneeling on the living room floor and stared toward the hallway. What in the world? The male moved so fast; one minute he was next to her, and the next, she heard the bathroom door close. He seemed downright panicky, but why? There’s no way a New Breed Warrior would freak out about that kind of injury. Not when he was used to doing what he did out there tonight. Oh, God. Her belly did a nauseating flip flop. She blocked out the rest of the thought and focused on the task at hand. There was a singing kettle in need of rescue from the stove. She wasn’t about to invade the male’s privacy. If he wanted to take care of it himself, then she would give him some space. She hoped to hell she still had some chamomile left. What a night.
    She slid her heels off and slipped out of her nylons before settling at the kitchen table with her mug. A familiar fatigue was beginning to settle into her body. From the attack, she thought. Of course, there were other things it could be, but she wasn’t going to go there. Not tonight. As she quietly sipped her tea, her mind wandered and she caught herself thinking about how incredible Xavier looked in that tight black t-shirt. He’d looked even more amazing in his tux. She quickly cleared the thought from her mind and looked over at the clock on the microwave. Ten minutes passed, then another ten. Finally, she decided to check on him. She walked down the hall and was just about to knock when she jerked her hand back. A lick of power came from the other side of the door.
    She took a deep breath. “Xavier, is everything okay in there?”
    “I’m alright,” he answered in that deep, lush baritone.
    “Are you sure?”
    “I’ll be out in just a sec.”
    Oh, God. There it was again. That energy. She picked up his scent through the door and her heart