Free Incubus by Janet Elizabeth Jones

door. The growl ended in an anxious whine. Intruder.
    Caroline listened with her entire being. The stranger was male. He was alone. But he wasn’t Burke. Beyond that, all she could sense about him was…
    She focused. A shiver ran through her as she connected with a wall of raw power, and at the heart of him, a gaping emptiness that terrified her. Clutching ather crutches, she got to her feet and dug her can of Mace out of her dresser drawer.
    Dash circled the room and whined like she was trying to find a place to hide. That wasn’t like her. Normally she’d be tearing the door down to get to whoever was out there.
    Caroline’s upper lip beaded with perspiration. She locked both hands around the Mace can and waited. Dash began to howl as if a hundred sirens split the silence. The nameless wave of power advanced onto the porch like a tsunami and slammed against Caroline’s shield so hard that she staggered backward. The rap on her door made her thoughts scatter.
    Don’t open the door, she told herself. It’s the last thing you want to do.
    Yet she found herself setting aside the Mace and walking to the door. She watched her hand grasp the doorknob, turn it and pull the door open. Wide open.
    Dash retreated behind the sofa and fell utterly silent.
    Black eyes flashed at Caroline from the half light of her porch lamp. The man’s ebony hair fell in waves around his face and shoulders. With skin the color of café au lait, he was the most exotic person she’d ever seen. He would have been stunning if not for the hint of cruelty in his provocative smile. Like Meical, he wore no coat. Just a black turtleneck and jeans.
    His voice was soft and deep, as mesmerizing as his eyes. “I’ve come for Meical.”
    The bolt of energy Caroline had sensed a moment ago evaporated suddenly. All he exuded now wasa paradoxical mixture of aloof benevolence and a disinclination to be crossed. She couldn’t quite place his accent. Middle Eastern, maybe?
    Her mind cleared, and she closed the door until it was only ajar. For all she knew, this man was the reason Meical had ended up in a snowdrift. “How did you know he was here?”
    â€œI followed him.”
    She longed for her can of Mace. “Why would you do that?”
    His smile widened. He clasped his hands in front of him and said as though she were a child, “I am his physician and an old friend of his family. He’s been in my care for some time.”
    But Meical said he had no one. No family. No friends. “What’s your name?”
    â€œBenemerut Neshi.”
    â€œWell, when he wakes up, Dr. Neshi, I’ll tell him you came by. If he wants to see you, he’ll contact you.”
    She pushed the door closed. It caught on something. She looked down. Neshi’s black boot. It was dry, with no hint of mud or snow. That was weird. He was weird. This whole thing was weird.
    Caroline met his gaze. “Don’t mess with me, mister.”
    There was as much beauty as harshness in his grin, but when his grin faded, there was only resolve. “Meical needs me.”
    Who could look into that face, into those eyes, and say no? She opened the door and stood aside, eyeing the can of Mace that was way beyond her reach.
    Neshi pushed past her and bent over the sofa. His hair partially concealed his face, but she thought she saw his mouth move. He placed one hand over Meical’s heart and the other at Meical’s temple. That was all. No stethoscope, penlight, tongue depressor, etc. No doctor stuff at all.
    Caroline approached the bed. “He’s been like this all day.”
    â€œWhen he wakes…”
    â€œWhat?”
    He straightened and met her gaze, eyes glinting in a way that sent another shiver up her spine. “He’ll need nourishment.”
    She shrugged away her uneasiness. “I have a freezer full of Lean Cuisines on the back porch. I’ll find something he’ll like.