Amaryllis looked up at him, her breath catching in her throat. She knew that feeling welling up inside of her was love. It was soft and tender. It was alien to her. Completely foreign. She’d felt something close to it for Jacy and Marie, but not this overwhelming emotion that threatened to choke her. He was making it impossible for her to leave him. Impossible for her to stay. No one could measure up to him. No one could ever be worthy of him.
“You’re so compassionate. That’s a wonderful, generous thing to do.”
“Stay with me, Amaryllis. I know it will be scary, but I swear to you, I won’t let Whitney, or anyone else, take you from me.”
She studied his face. “You’re asking for a very huge leap of faith. Whitney is a very vindictive man. I already had an escape plan and the moment I needed to put it into use, I didn’t hesitate. He didn’t have a chance to know I was even planning it. If he got his hands on me a second time, he would never give me another opportunity.”
“You have one ready for here as well.”
“Of course. And, Malichai, I am perfectly capable of defending myself.” She needed him to know that. And that she would. She wouldn’t hesitate. She had more than one animal in her DNA. She had been trained to fight since she was a toddler. Whitney may have recently decided to put her in his breeding program, but prior to that, she’d been a soldier, just like Malichai, maybe a lone one, an assassin, but she’d gone out on missions and used deadly force to defend herself.
There was warning in her voice as well as a need for him to know there was more to her than the side she’d shown to him. She was afraid he might not like that side of her. He might prefer that she not be a woman who would fight with any kind of weapon to defend her family and herself from any kind of attack.
“Baby, do you think I don’t want you capable of defending yourself, our children, or even our home? The woman I admire most in the world is Nonny, Wyatt’s grandmother. She raised her children and then her grandsons in that swamp. Mostly alone. When you go into her house, the first thing that hits you is the feeling of home. Even if you’ve never felt it before, you know it when you’re in her home. She’s a beautiful person, kind and compassionate. Intelligent and filled with wisdom. Her shotgun is inches from her hand most of the time. I admire that trait in her. She doesn’t look to others to get her out of trouble.”
“You’re a very protective man.” He was. Everything about him screamed it. Proclaimed it. No one could look at him without seeing it.
Malichai nodded and sank down into the chair. She could see pain etched into the lines of his face. That leg was on fire and was about to give out on him, but he didn’t want to let on.
“Yes, there’s no question about it. And I gave my married friends a bad time and said my woman was going to be in the kitchen and bedroom, nowhere else. But I knew all along that my woman was going to have Nonny’s traits. You have them in abundance, Amaryllis, everything I admire most.”
Amaryllis stood up and went to him. She had feline traits, allowing her muscles to move beneath her skin, causing her to be graceful, fluid and silent in the dark, and she padded across the room to him. Tiny beads of sweat trickled down his face and he wiped them away. He looked a little shocked to find them there. It wasn’t that hot in the room.
He looked up at her. “Can you get the window, babe?”
Instead of going to the window, she laid her palm on his forehead, frowning. “Malichai, you’re burning up.”
Amaryllis crouched down to push up the denim material on his leg. She surrounded his calf with both hands. “Your leg is hot to the touch. You have an infection. Most likely it’s a bone infection. Can you make it to the bed?”
She couldn’t keep the anxiety from her voice. Without waiting for an answer, she wrapped her arm around him and almost heaved him out of the chair. She was much stronger than she looked, enhanced, like he was, with her GhostWalker DNA.
“It’s probably not a good thing if that soldier comes looking for you, Amaryllis. If I didn’t kill him, you’d do it.”
Malichai was stalling. She knew it but she didn’t call him on it. Sweat beaded on his body and she was furious with herself for being focused on their conversation. On the fact that he’d said he loved her. On her need to run. On his leg. On everything but that he was in severe trouble. He swayed for a moment, the foot in the air, his arm around her waist, his weight slightly on her, but none on that hurt leg.