He was going to forget he'd ever met Gabrielle Maxwell. For his own sake, if not for the Breed as a whole.
Except...
Except, he had told her just last night that she could reach him on his cell phone whenever she needed him. He had promised he would always answer her call.
And if she was trying to get a hold of him now because the Rogues or their walking-dead Minions had come sniffing around her again, he figured he damned well needed to know.
Lying in a supine sprawl on the floor, he punched the Talk button.
"Hello."
Jesus, he sounded like shit. Like his lungs were made of cinder and his breath was ash. He coughed and felt his head split with pain.
Silence held for a second on the other end, then Gabrielle's voice, hesitant, anxious. "Lucan? Is that you?"
"Yeah." He worked to force sound from his arid throat. "What is it? You okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine. I hope it's all right that I called. I just... Well, after the way you left last night, I've been a little worried. I suppose I just needed to know that nothing had happened to you."
He didn't have the energy to speak, so he lay back, closed his eyes, and merely listened to the sound of her voice. The clear, rich tones washed over him like a balm. Her concern was an elixir, something he had never tasted before - hearing that someone was worried about him. The affection was unfamiliar, warm.
It soothed him, despite his fierce need to deny it.
"Time..." he croaked, then tried again. "What time is it?"
"Not quite noon. I wanted to call you as soon as I got up this morning, but since you generally work the evening shift, I waited as long as I could. You sound tired. Did I wake you up?"
"No."
He attempted to roll onto his side, feeling stronger just for the few minutes on the phone with her. Besides, he needed to get his ass out of its sling and back onto the street, starting tonight. Conlan's murder had to be avenged, and he meant to be the one to dispense justice.
The more brutal that justice, the better.
"So," she was saying now, "everything's okay with you, then?"
"Yeah. Fine."
"Good. I'm relieved to hear that, actually." Her voice took on a lighter, teasing tone. "You ran out of my place so fast last night, I think you left skid marks on the floor."
"Something came up. I had to go."
"Hmm," she said, after he let the silence stretch out, not volunteering to elaborate. "Top secret detective business?"
"You could say that."
He struggled to put his feet beneath him, and winced, both at the pain lancing through his body and for the truth he couldn't tell Gabrielle about what had really made him race out of her bed. The stark reality of the war that lay ahead of him and the rest of his kind would land on her plate soon enough. Tonight in fact, when Gideon paid her a visit.
"Listen, I have yoga class tonight with a friend of mine, but it lets out around nine. If you're not on duty, would you like to come over? I could cook you dinner. Think of it as a raincheck for the manicotti you missed earlier this week. Maybe we'll actually eat the food this time."
His facial muscles burned with the involuntary pull of his mouth as Gabrielle's flirty humor wrung a smile from him. The suggestion of the passion they'd shared together was wringing something else from him as well; and the flare of his arousal amid all of his other agony didn't hurt half as bad as he wished it had.
"I can't see you, Gabrielle. I have... things I must do."
Chief among them, getting some blood into his depleted cells, and that meant keeping her as far away from him as possible. Bad enough she tempted him with the promise of her body; in his current state, he would be a danger to any human who was fool enough to get near him.
"Don't you know what they say about all work and no play?" she asked, a world of invitation in the purr of her voice. "I'm a bit of a night owl, so if you get off work and decide you want some company - "
"I'm sorry. Maybe another time," he said, knowing full well there would be no other time. He was standing on wobbly legs now and managing a halting, painful step toward the door. Gideon would be in the lab and that was all the way at the end of the corridor. Sheer hell to make that in his condition, but Lucan was more than willing to try. "I'm sending someone over to see you tonight. He's a... an associate of mine."
"What for?"
His breath rasped out of him in a labored wheeze, but he was walking. His hand swung out and caught the latch of the door. "Things are too dangerous topside right now," he said in a strained rush of words. "After what happened to you downtown yesterday..."
"God, can we forget that? I'm sure I was just overreacting."
"No," he said, cutting her off. "I'll feel better knowing you're not alone... having someone look in on you."
"Lucan, really. It's not necessary. I'm a big girl. I'm fine."
He ignored her protests. "His name is Gideon. You'll like him. The two of you can... talk. He will help you, Gabrielle. Better than I can."
"Help me - what do you mean? Has something happened with the case? And who is this Gideon guy? Is he a detective, too?"
"He will explain it all to you." Lucan stepped out into the corridor where dim lights illuminated polished tile floors and crisp chrome and glass fixtures. From behind the door of another private apartment, Dante's metal music thumped heavily. Trace smells of oil and recently fired weaponry filtered out from the training facility down one of many hallways that spoked off the main corridor. Lucan weaved on his feet, unsteady amid the sudden barrage of sensory stimulation. "You'll be safe, Gabrielle, I swear to you. I have to go now."