Glancing up, he looked so… normal in my clothes. His dark hair was a tangled mess that was mostly tucked behind his ears. And there was the rest of that face and those roundish-shaped eyes…
The pants fortunately fit him fine, and then there was the shirt. I was pretty sure he hadn’t noticed the white cat with a crooked pink bow on one pointed ear. It was one of my biggest shirts.
Lifting my gaze, I met those dark purple eyes, and a feeling of dread tickled me right between the shoulder blades. “If you’re done… checking me out… can I get a wet towel to wipe off… with?”
The sound that gurgled in my throat reminded me of my old cat, Ryu, when he’d hack up a hairball.
Because…
Because…
Was he being sarcastic? Wasn’t he supposed to be… I don’t know… above that kind of thing?
Oh, God. Were they all like this in person? Were they all undercover smart-asses?
To be fair, I had been checking him out. I wasn’t going to deny it, but he didn’t need to call me out on it. I was sure everybody gawked at him. I pondered that unthinkable thought about the Trinity as I left the room and ducked into the bathroom for a couple washcloths that I held under the sink to wet and wring out.
Back in the room, I held them out to him.
He didn’t take them.
Was he being for real?
Of course he was. Don’t check me out but give me a sponge bath. Biting my cheek, I kneeled beside his leg and set one of the cloths on the bed. Then I took the other one and started from the top, just like I used to do with my grandparents. This sense of longing hit me full-strength in the heart right then.
I missed them.
They had been crazy strict and overprotective, but I missed them so much. Living with them, then eventually caring for them, hadn’t been easy, but I had done it with love, and I would have kept doing it for years and years.
My eyes started to water as I swept the cloth over The Defender’s forehead, then gently over his eyebrows and eyelids when he closed them, over one cheek then the other. I took my time with his chin and neck, going back up to wipe behind his ears. Folding the small towel, I moved it over his hair, noticing that it wasn’t greasy at all considering he hadn’t taken a shower since he’d landed here.
Literally landed.
How did this shit even happen to me? What were the chances?
Dropping it on the floor, I picked up the other towel and then started wiping at his upper arm, dragging it toward his wrist. I peeked up to find him sitting there, his eyes closed. His skin was smooth and golden in the dim overhead lighting. The shirt didn’t do his body any favors, but now I knew what was under there, and my eyes were never going to be the same again.
In movies, actors had to wear padded suits to look the way The Defender did.
But there was no padding in what I’d just helped peel off. For the brief moment I’d touched his suit, it had felt… well, not like any material you could buy in a store. And I was pretty sure he’d just incinerated it somehow.
The Defender’s throat bobbed as I kneeled there, wiping the towel over the tops of his hands and then his palms. His breathing seemed to still be a struggle, but other than that, it was steady. How did he get his skin so smooth under the sunburn? Or was it just the same shit that made him super strong that made his pores so tiny? Did he drink a lot of water? That’s what all the models said was their secret, but I didn’t believe that shit completely. I drank a bunch of water and still broke out from time to time.
“What day is this?” he asked suddenly.
That was a weird question, but I told him it was Friday.
The lean muscles on his face barely flexed, but they did. “What day and month?”
I told him.
I squeezed my hands between my thighs as I watched him take what seemed like another pained breath. I knew it was in my best interest to keep our conversations to a minimum, but… Clearing my throat, I picked my words as wisely as I could. “Why you don’t know what day it is isn’t technically my business, but it is at the same time. Is there something I need to worry about? I locked the gate to the property, but that won’t actually stop anyone who’s determined to come in. Is there… something else I should do?” I dropped my voice. “Did you change your mind about reaching out to someone more qualified?” I had pepper spray. I still had bear spray from a camping trip last summer in Montana that had been pretty fun and only a little bit lonely. It had been my first solo vacation.
Those lean cheeks did that flexing thing again.
I pressed my hands together tighter. “Look, I’m sure it’s not everyday someone like you needs help from someone like me. I don’t know how to help you, how to keep you safe.”
He opened his mouth, and I knew, I just knew something sarcastic was going to come out of his pretty pink mouth.
“Not that you can’t keep yourself safe. Okay.” Oh boy, someone was fucking touchy. “I can’t even be a human shield because you’re bulletproof—”
“Invulnerable,” he corrected me.
I blinked. Oh boy. Excuse me. Maybe it was time I started playing Call of Duty again so I could get used to dealing with moody man-boys. “That. Sure. All I want to do is make sure that you’re okay.” I gave him another tight smile, ignoring the way my poor heart clenched. “That you’re safe.” It had been a long, long time since I had felt that way, but if I could make another person experience it, then I would do it in a heartbeat.
That got him to open his eyes and give me the most dubious expression I’d ever seen.
He probably didn’t know what it was like to not feel secure. Must be nice.
Scratching the tip of my nose, I took a breath and tried to think of another way to approach this. To approach him. “Listen, I don’t want someone showing up and accusing me of murder if you die. You’re—” I gestured toward him. “—you. It’s my moral obligation for the sake of the planet to help you, but I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be collateral damage if someone wants to take you out. No offense. If I had to be someone’s martyr, you’d deserve it, but I still don’t want to do it,” I rambled on, figuring I had to be at least mostly honest with him. “No offense again. Thank you for everything you’ve done.”
That sounded real sincere.
But somehow, I knew it worked because just a tiny bit of the wariness on his face disappeared, or at least I wanted to believe it did.
I tried again. “Is someone coming to get you? Is someone looking for you?”
He said nothing.
Dammit. “It isn’t like I would tell anyone anything about you,” I tried to reassure him. “But I need to know if there’s something to be concerned about. You know, because I don’t want to get ripped apart by The Centurion.”
“Have your limbs rendered,” he corrected.
I blinked.
He was in pain. In a stranger’s house. Vulnerable as shit.
I couldn’t imagine. Hadn’t everything I’d done for my life been to not put myself into a vulnerable position? To not have to rely on other people more than necessary?
He still didn’t say shit as I folded the towel and started wiping at his other arm, focusing on that as I thought about just how much I’d hate being in his position.