So far there had been no mistakes, nothing dead trying to sneak into her house. No hysterical calls from the police she had to scramble to cover. At least not yet. She resisted the urge to rub her arms. Revealing weakness meant exploitation in the labs.
What little control she could muster over the living was by direct touch only. Objects were easier, people often too fragile to try such guesswork on without serious consequences.
“We need to get your hand bandaged.”
The boy. She blinked at him, surprised at his absolute silent approach. She followed his gaze to find tiny slivers of glass imbedded in the palms of her gloves. The excess energy had kept her from feeling the pain. All she felt now was a slight pull. Her body had healed with the slivers still inside her flesh instead of pushing them out.
When she reached to jerk the glass out, he caught her wrist. “We need better light. If you pull it out now, you might leave pieces behind. Show me where you store the medical supplies, and I’ll do it.”
Over his head, she caught the Ogre clenching his fists. Not removing her gaze from him, she answered. “I’m fine. Let’s get inside and figure out where we go from here.”
The old place had a Victorian feel, grand open spaces, large rambling hallways, and a staircase that curved along the wall to the second floor and opened up to a balcony. The acoustics were spectacular as they could attest to by the heated argument from the office to her left. Hunching her shoulders, she hurried to the back of the house. She had to settle the men before she could allow herself the luxury to relax her guard.
She pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen. Tall, wide windows dominated half of the room to the left. Their images gleamed back at her from the darkened glass. Ignoring the guys, she turned on the faucet and ran her hands under the water.
She sucked in a breath then yanked out a large shard. Then two of the smaller ones in rapid succession. Sharp pain stung her palms. Flesh tore and blood filled the fingers of her gloves.
“Here.” When the boy reached for her hand, she jerked back.
“Stay away.” The tightness in her throat pitched the words harsher than she intended. The light in his eyes dimmed, but he obediently stepped back. Ashamed of her behavior, she worked the zipper of her gloves and yanked them down her arms and then off. “I’m sorry. I—”
“I overstepped my bounds.” He bowed his head, gazing down at his feet, so damned submissive her teeth ached.
“It’s the blood.” Heat filled her face when she blurted out the words. “You can’t touch the blood. I’m not sure what would happen if you did.”
Compassion softened his features. “Shifters can’t catch human diseases.”
“Not exactly.” She turned her back on them and fished out the last bit of the glass, watching the pink water disappear down the drain.
Warmth burned her palms, and the gouges drew closed, sealing themselves. Turning off the water, she picked up a towel and dried her hands, avoiding their gazes.
“You’re a shifter?” Wonder and excitement filled the kid’s voice. “I didn’t sense it at all.”
“Yes. No.” She tightened her lips and pressed her hands against the counter, bracing herself. “Right now, I’m more concerned about what to do with the both of you.”
“But you healed yourself.” The Ogre lumbered closer, a deep, puzzled frown between his brows. He leaned over and inhaled slowly, deeply, dragging in her scent, his thick, dark brown hair sliding over his forehead. “You don’t smell of death, no stench of vampire or shifter.”
A shiver crept down her spine. Her stomach somersaulted at his nearness and the deep, vibrant sound of his voice so close to her ear. Something in her very much liked his closeness. The beasts at her center shifted restlessly, but thankfully remained hidden. She gingerly stepped away, uncomfortable with her swinging emotions.
“Jackson has some medical training. Maybe he can–”
“You’re a healer?” Confusion swirled inside her. “Then why haven’t you healed his back?”
The men stilled, studying her again. Something in their expressions drew on old suspicions that had kept her alive in the labs long after those around her had died. She took another step back, facing both of them. “Why doesn’t your animal heal your wounds or clear your system of drugs?”
They exchanged a silent glance and dread tightened her gut. The boy turned to her, his head bowed both in submission and curiosity. “Shifters can’t be drugged. Our metabolism acts too fast for anything to affect our system.”
Raven shook her head. “At first I thought it was the necklace that wouldn’t allow your beast to heal, but it’s not.” If what they said was true, it was her duty to protect the kid. Until she could find a safer place for him, she was stuck with the job. That meant she had to own up to her responsibilities.