He nodded. Oh, yeah.

The moment the door closed behind her retreating back, Trevor felt bereft. Everything lost its color when she left the room, and a mild flare of panic vibrated in his chest. How much time did he have with her? He was certain guardian angels didn’t stick around indefinitely. At some point she would move on to another assignment.

His heart began to pound and his hands shook. The room tilted and he sucked in a quick breath to stave off a wave of nausea. He needed her.

She couldn’t leave him.

“Siobhán . . .” He tried to cal her back, but his voice was a pained whisper. She had to be nearby. He needed her to balance him and restore his equanimity. Without her, he was the terrified man in the pit.

Swiftly yanking on the clothes she’d left for him, he hurried to join her.

Chapter 4

Trevor Descansos had a voice that made her skin tingle. Whether it was hoarse from endless screams and pleas for mercy as it had been in the basement, or deep, smooth, and utterly masculine as it was now that he was healed, Siobhán had never experienced anything like the reaction she had to every word that left his mouth. His voice struck a chord that resonated inside her and rattled her equanimity. His voice made her feel.

The door to her room opened and Trevor appeared, looking human again in a black T-shirt and jeans that were indeed too big for his reduced frame. Siobhán was eager to see him return to the way he’d appeared in his memories—fil ed out and leanly muscular, his skin a warm golden color and his eyes bright with happiness instead of haunted by shadows.

“So,” she began, taken aback by her need to clear her throat. Something about him seemed to arrest all of her physical and mental processes.

“What are you hungry for?”

“How much time have you got?”

That made her smile. “Come to the lab with me, and I’l give you some paper to write a list.”

“Lab?”

Siobhán started down the hal . “Yes, you’re presently in an underground storage facility that I’ve converted into a laboratory, holding facility, and infirmary. I’m studying a disease that has been spreading through the vampire ranks. I’m trying to ascertain what it is, if there’s an acceptable cure, how quickly it’s spreading, mutations and variations . . . everything, really.”

He stared at her. “You’re a lab rat?”

“Wel , yes . . . I suppose I am.” She smiled.

“Isn’t that a bit . . . mundane for an angel?”

“Someone has to do it. Might as well be me, since I like it. Plus I have an aptitude for it.”

Running a hand over his head, he said, “I would think you’d have an aptitude for everything. You’re an angel.”

She opened a door and ushered him into an impressive laboratory. When he whistled, she felt a rush of pride.

“Do you like it?” she asked, trying to see the familiar space as he might.

Glass-fronted refrigerators lined one wal , displaying the test tubes and Petri dishes she kept inside them. The opposite wal was lined with sinks and wal -mounted cupboards. Two rows of long, aluminum-topped worktables ran paral el to one another down the length of the room.

Beakers, microscopes, centrifuges, and more littered the tops in organized chaos.

“What’s not to like?” he said. “It’s a med geek’s dream room.”

Reminded that Trevor had once been an EMT and med student, she said, “If you ever feel like lending a hand, I won’t say no.”

“I won’t say no, either.”

“Wel , that was easy.” She felt herself smile again.

“I’l never say no to you, Siobhán.” His tone was low and urgent. “I’l do anything you want. Even help you find a cure for those f**king things that —” He sucked in a shaky breath. “Whatever. I’l help you.”

“Trevor . . .” Something twisted painful y in her chest. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I owe you my life. It’s yours to do whatever you want with.”

Siobhán turned away in a rush, feeling a need for privacy. She used the guise of getting a pen and paper to hide how he . . . flustered her. How he made her feel exposed and vulnerable. As far back as she could recal , nothing had ever been capable of affecting her that way.

“Let’s take care of getting you something to eat,” she said with feigned ease. “Then I’l explain a bit about why I’m looking at this disease.”

When she returned to him with some graph paper and a pencil, she’d pul ed herself together. Tilting her head back, she looked up at him . . . and got lost in his eyes. They were stormy with emotions she’d never know, never feel. It was like looking into a Caribbean whirlpool, the pristine blue drawing her in and sweeping her away until he was all she saw.

He caught her wrist when she started to move away. “Siobhán,” he said hoarsely. “Can I touch you? Would you let me?”

“I . . .” She frowned. “Why?”

Trevor’s hands lifted slowly toward her face. “I have to touch you to make sure you’re real. You’re a dream to me, Siobhán. You’re a mythical creature, like a unicorn or a fairy.”

“Your fingers are trembling,” she murmured, worried. “You need to eat.”

“That’s not why I’m shaky.” He inhaled sharply. “You’re so beautiful. I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as you are.”

The odd twisting in her chest struck again, parting her lips on quick exhalations. “Okay.”

His lips curved slightly, tightening the ache into a sharp discomfort. Even emaciated, he was a handsome man. “Okay?”

“Okay, you can touch me.”

She stood motionless as his fingertips traced over the curve of her eyebrows. He brushed aside her bangs, then stroked down the strands of the chin-length pieces with the backs of his fingers. He cupped her jaw in both hands, tilting her head up just a little bit further. Siobhán’s skin heated wherever he touched her. She started to quiver. His fingers were on her throat, a caress that was somehow unbearably intimate. Tingles raced across her flesh.

Trevor stared long and hard at her mouth, then ran the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. A rippling, unfamiliar clenching between her legs made her ache for his fingers to stroke her there as well .

Frightened by the confusing deluge of sensation and need, she wrenched away, breathing hard. She couldn’t think . . . didn’t understand . . . “What are you doing to me?” she gasped.

He watched her with those intense, turbulent eyes. “Worshipping you.”

“What? . . . You shouldn’t. You can’t.”

“I can’t help it.”

Shaking her head, she backed away. “Please, just write down what you’re hungry for.”

“I’ve upset you. I didn’t mean to.” He sighed when she backed up another step. “Can you give me some ideas for food? What are you hungry for?”

“I don’t eat like you do.”

“Of course you don’t. That was a stupid question.” Reaching up, he rubbed the back of his neck. “You healed me, didn’t you? How?”

She studied him almost helplessly, fascinated by his resilience. Yes, she’d healed his body, but it was his own strength of Will and spirit that enabled him to stand in front of her now. A wounded and partial y broken man, but not a feral beast. “I gave you some of my blood.”