LITMIR.BIZ

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until she found what she was looking for. Men. There were two very male scents lingering in the air, one was very spicy, Moroccan almost? And the other… was just delicious, a chestnutty muskiness filled her olfactory senses, overwhelming her, easing her bruised and battered body, forcing her to relax.

      Carefully opening an eyelid, she cursed internally as bright lights hit her. The damn things were blinding, making her wince. Her eyes felt sore and crusty, as if she’d been asleep for days. She breathed through the pain shooting through her body as her muscles tensed, and she braced herself for another shot at getting a visual on her location. Slowly, carefully, she cracked open an eyelid once more. The brightness scorched her retinas, but she forced herself through the pain of it; all she could see, however, was blinding whiteness, her blurry sight giving her nothing but erratic shapes that she couldn’t even attempt to decipher. Coughing, she cleared her throat, trying to talk to the people in the room was her last option; at the very least, she might be able to get them to tell her what had happened. Maybe she was in a hospital? And this caution was just her instinctive reaction?

      ‘H-ell-oo?’ she rasped through dry lips. Her throat felt like it had been torn to bits. Daaaammnn. Pain washed over her like a blanket of pins, heat ripping through her as surely as if she were on fire.

      ‘Shh. Careful now,’ came a deep, accented voice.

      The man that smelt of spices got up from his seat in the corner and moved swiftly over to her, a movement she felt rather than saw.

      ‘Shh, try to drink,’ he said in soothing tones. Tam tried a pull at the straw that was pushed gently between her lips, but it was too much, her stomach groaned at the small offering, threatening to evict anything that was left in it.

      With a moan that sounded pathetic even to her own ears, Tam tried to push the cup away. As the accented man retreated, a deep rumble filled the room, ricocheting across the walls. Was it a growl?

      It was coming from the far corner of the room, the space that the delicious chesnutty scent was coming from. Though it hurt her ears, the sound was strangely comforting. She felt so vulnerable, so lost and confused, and whatever was making the slow, deep rumble was protecting her. She was sure of it.

      As blinding heat washed over her in a steady wave, her muscles tensing and her bones feeling as if they were cracking under the pressure, she slowly welcomed the pain because with it came the sweet darkness, the unconsciousness that washed away the confusion and took away the pain. Blacking out, she felt herself smile. Though Lord only knew why.

      ‘Hey there. How are you feeling?’ Tam woke again several hours later to the sound of the deep, rumbling voice and heavy hands stroking her hair.

      ‘Wh—’ She tried to speak, but it came out hoarse.

      ‘Shh, drink,’ he whispered.

      She wished people would stop telling her to ‘shh’, though she took a pull on the straw that came to her lips nonetheless. The cool liquid washed through her, making her feel better by the second.

      ‘I tried to contact your father but he’s MIA at the moment.’

      ‘Father’s dead,’ she croaked, confusion flooding her.

      ‘Never mind about that now. Try and get some sleep.’

      Tam tried to open her eyes; she wanted to see where she was, to understand what was happening, but those awful bright lights made her wince. Snapping her lids shut, she cursed internally. Why couldn’t someone just turn them down?

      The metallic, medical scent of the room washed over her, but this aroma was quickly chased away by the dark, chesnutty masculine scent of the man standing next to her. He slowly ran his fingers through her hair, soothing her. He couldn’t be a doctor; that would be highly unprofessional if he was, but who else? She didn’t recognise his scent or his deep, rumbling voice.

      She tried to sit up, but Christ did she ache. Her skin felt raw and exposed; she felt as though she’d been burnt alive, and she had to hold her breath against the pain. Her vision was shot to hell, it was so blurry she could barely make out the sight of her own palm, though she got the impression of a huge man with kind-looking eyes and black hair looming over her. As pain washed over her, making her giddy, lightheaded and more than a little sick, she clamped her lids back down, reaching for the darkness, the unconsciousness that could take away the pain and confusion.

      She held onto the image of her dark-haired man, desperately clinging to his blurred, handsome features. She liked him, she decided. He was nice. Though that might just be the medicine they had her on talking. Crippling heat engulfed her, taking her into the blackness once more.

      When Tamriel finally passed out for the second time, Leyth heaved a sigh of relief. She was in so much pain, writhing on the gurney, tears streaming down her face. Every time she cried out in pain it scared the hell out of him. The thought of her in pain was hard, the thought of her dying? God-awful. Those fears were brought on by the blatant knowledge that whatever happened to her was on him. It was his goddamn fault and he cursed himself for letting her fight the infection alone, unprepared and afraid. God he was such an idiot.

      She was strong though, so damn strong. Even in the state she was in, being practically burnt alive by the fever, her body physically tearing itself apart, she was still battling with the pain, trying to find out what was happening to her, though he could clearly see she was in agony and, hell, did that make him respect the crap out of her.

      ‘I will look after you,’ he whispered, absently stroking her hair. The beautiful strands were damp with sweat; her whole body beaded with it. Her skin still felt like a furnace against his fingers. Though she was now lying limp and her breathing was steady, he knew the war her body was fighting; knew the pain and the stress it was going through.

      He bent down to kiss her forehead as sympathy for what she was going through overwhelmed him, lingering slightly as his lips met her skin. Though the heat of her scalded his lips he couldn’t help but notice the rush of heat that roared through him as he touched her, the feel of her against him, the scent of her filling his nostrils; it forced a primal urge at the very core of him to come rushing to the surface without so much as a whisper of hesitation.

      She was just… beautiful. Even in this state. Leyth barked out an abrupt curse, where the hell was this soppy crap coming from?

      Sliding down to the cold, tiled floor, he leant against the gurney and wondered what on earth he was going to do.

      ‘What in the hell?’ Julian snapped as Leyth stormed his way into his office. He narrowed luminous blue eyes, his blonde hair was tied back in a long plait falling down his back, out of the way, and he was wearing his fighting gear. He was supposed to be out patrolling with the others tonight, but Sod’s law would have him home just as Leyth got back with Tamriel, unannounced and without permission.

      ‘Julian, I don’t have time for this.’ Leyth spat, marching towards the heavy desk that all but dominated the large room.

      ‘Hell yeah, you do!’ Julian growled, blocking Leyth with his huge, muscular figure. ‘I am your leader and my word goes. And it’s my house you’re marching into.’

      Out of habit more than respect at this point, Leyth dipped his head down in a half bow to his leader. Unfortunately, Julian’s rule came before any other responsibilities, and being that this merry band of fighters was ruled by the Council, you were pretty buggered if you didn’t abide by its laws.

      ‘Sorry, she’s going through her fever early. She’s not ready yet. I needed to get her to Doc.’

      ‘Who is she?’ Julian demanded.

      ‘She’s John’s kid.’

      ‘Shit.’ Julian ducked his head down, rubbing a hand across his eyes. ‘How is she?’

      ‘Not good. The infection is still strong, it could kill her.’

      ‘She’s a strong female, Leyth; she’s John’s blood. She will be fine.’

      ‘Maybe.’

      ‘Christ,

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