Chapter Eight

“Breathe normally.” Jack let his breathing slow as he tried to relax.

Edward touched Jack’s brow and ran his thumb over it, leaving a streak of warmth behind. Jack had to keep from shuddering. The touch repeated and just that brief stroking eased Jack. Edward pressed the pad of his thumb under Jack’s eyebrow, near the bridge of his nose, and as the pressure increased, the warmth became heat.

The throbbing lessened. As if it were being pulled out of him, the pain in his head condensed, grew smaller, more localized. It drained through the spot under his eye and into Edward’s thumb. But that’s nuts, right?

Jack’s breathing eased as the pain faded.

Faded.

Gone.

Edward gasped. “Hell and…”

Edward’s thumb slipped away and scraped down Jack’s cheek. Jack opened his eyes.

Edward’s body went rigid. His head was thrown back, his corded throat worked as if he couldn’t get enough air and his features contorted as the seizure racked him. With another horrible gurgle, he slumped to the side doing a slow-motion slide off the coffee table. Jack grabbed Edward’s arm and the back of his neck and eased him to the floor between the couch and the table.

He knelt beside the unconscious man, then shoved the table out of the way.

“Edward.” Jack tapped him on the cheek. “Edward.”

No response. He lowered his face to Edward’s. He wasn’t breathing. Shit.

He felt for a pulse on Edward’s neck. Nothing.

Desperate, he moved his fingers along the indentation in Edward’s throat, searching for a pulse, any pulse. The touch was intimate yet clinical. He pressed harder.

“Come on, Edward. Stay with me, baby.” Jack’s heart hammered so hard, he didn’t know if he felt his own pulse or Edward’s, but after what seemed like too damn long, a pulse thumped softly against his fingertips.

Jack shook with relief.

“Edward. Wake up.” Another light tap on Edward’s contorted face.

Jack sat back, unsure what to do. He looked up at the phone on the kitchen wall. He should call an ambulance, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave Edward’s side. Glancing down at him, Jack watched the lines of pain smooth out, the creases in Edward’s brow fade and his body relax.

Edward’s face transformed. Like a little brat who’d fallen asleep, all the mischievousness, all the impish delight, all the precociousness, transformed into an angelic facade.

Jack stared down at him, struck again by Edward’s looks. Not handsome or rugged, as a man should be. Edward had beauty and grace, like some creature of immense worth, delicate, vulnerable. His features were fine, his lashes too long for a man’s, his lips full and plump.

Without thinking, Jack brushed his finger over Edward’s lips. So soft. So smooth.

Edward’s cheek showed just a hint of five o’clock shadow. Jack cupped Edward’s face, the light stubble a soft roughness against his palm. Edward’s hair, coal black, thick, tempted Jack.

Everything about this man tempted Jack.

Jack never gave into temptation. Never. That meant giving up control and Jack needed control like he needed air.

What would Edward’s hair feel like as it slips between my fingers?

Jack ran his hand through Edward’s bangs, pushing them off his face. It was as if he’d run a silk scarf, fine and soft, through his fingers.

He let his hand fall away and rest on his thigh. Leaning over, he was unable to take his eyes off Edward’s lips. They begged to be kissed.

Edward’s eyes fluttered. “Jack?” he whispered as his eyes opened. He gazed up into Jack’s face, bent over his.

“Shit, Edward. You scared me half to death.” Jack exhaled and sat back, putting distance between him and temptation.

“Sorry.” Edward sat up with a groan, rubbing his forehead. “It’s not usually like that.”

“What the hell just happened?” Jack stared at Edward.

Edward raised his hand and touched Jack’s cheek. His fingers were still warm against Jack’s skin and Jack had to fight not to lean into Edward’s touch.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” Edward’s hand stayed there, building heat beneath it. Their gazes locked.

Jack’s blood pounded in his throat and his dick. Shit. Of all the times for his cock to come to life, it had to be now? It felt so good to know he was still able to get it up. Matching pulse beats told Jack he’d be in deep trouble if he let this go on.

“Jack.” Edward’s dark eyes, large and liquid, focused on Jack’s lips.

Jack pulled away. “I want answers, Edward. What happened?”

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yes. And I want to know why.” Jack got up and sat on the recliner.

Edward rolled his shoulders, gave Jack an unsteady smile then pushed himself up and onto the couch. “I told you. I healed you.” He raked his fingers through his hair.

“Does that happen every time?” Jack narrowed his eyes at Edward.

Edward sighed. “No.” Jack caught the slight tremble in Edward’s hands as he rubbed them against his thighs.

“Then why now? What was different?” Jack leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees to keep from reaching out to Edward.

Edward sat back, closed his eyes and bit his lip. “Whatever was wrong with you was serious. More so than I thought.”

“Serious? What do you mean? Why did you faint?”

“Faint? Is that what happened?” Edward gave a nervous laugh and massaged the back of his neck. “I’m not sure, but if I had to make a guess, I’d say maybe an embolism.” He shrugged.

Jack sat back. “Shit. No way.” He ran a hand through his hair, feeling his head as if he could locate the problem inside his skull. “What happened to it?”

 

“This is the hard part to explain. I’m not sure I can, and I’m not sure that you’ll believe me if I do.” Edward tucked one leg under the other and sat back. He’d never tried the truth before—most of the time he explained it away as the wonders of massage. Somehow, he knew Jack wouldn’t fall for that. Jack would demand more.

“Try me.”

“I’m able to absorb…illness, I suppose. Transfer it from a person to myself. Then my body absorbs it, displaces it, or dispels it, I’ve never figured out which.”

Jack stared at him. “You’re crazy.”

“I told you.”

“It’s some sort of mind trick. Like a placebo. People can’t just take pain or an illness away. Not normal people.” Jack stared at him.

Edward gave a short laugh. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not like everyone else. Take this shirt, for starters.” He held out his arms to demonstrate, trying to ease the tension between them.

Jack, tight-lipped, stared at him. Edward winced at the disbelief on his face. What did Edward expect? He was surprised Jack hadn’t called him crazy and thrown him out of the house.

“Does your head hurt? Can you see now?” Edward waved his hand at Jack, feeling very tired. More drained than he’d ever felt before.

“How did you know I couldn’t see?”

Edward stared down at his hands in his lap. “When I took your pain, I went blind. Then I…fainted.” He raised his eyes to catch Jack’s gaze. He’d done more than just faint, but he wasn’t ready to deal with that yet.

“Shit. Holy shit.” Jack ran his hand over his face. “This is too fucking much.”

“It’s okay if you don’t believe me.” He shrugged. “I didn’t expect you to.”

“I don’t know why, but I do. Christ, maybe I’m the one who’s crazy.”

There was a long silence between the men.

Unable to control himself, Edward whispered, “Were you going to kiss me?”

Jack jerked his head up. “No. Hell, no.”

“Uh-huh. But you touched me, didn’t you?” He should let it drop, but he couldn’t.

Jack bolted out of the recliner. “You need to go. Let me get the keys and I’ll get your bags for you.” He headed to the door.

Hurt and anger warred in Edward as he followed Jack, grabbed his arm and spun him around. “I felt you. Touching me.”

“I was just trying to see if you were alive.”

“Bullshit.” Edward didn’t release him.

Jack jerked away. “Let me go.”

“You want me.” Why did Edward always have to push? He knew he should leave it alone, but he just couldn’t stop himself, even knowing that it might drive Jack away.

In one quick move, Jack twisted Edward’s arm behind his back and shoved him face-first into the front door. He slammed his hand over Edward’s, trapping it against the door, and leaned against Edward’s back. It was rough and violent and the most erotic thing Edward had ever felt. Hell and damnation, he’d popped a boner at the manhandling and his dick pressed with delicious pain into the wooden door.

 

What the hell am I doing? He’d lost it, but goddamn, it felt good to force himself on Edward, show him who was in control. Edward had this innocent wildness, this need to be tended. He needed someone to show him the way and Jack needed to be the one who conquered him.

But it was impossible.

Edward was so incredibly wrong.

Resting his forehead on the door next to Edward’s face, he said, “I’m not gay, Edward. Leave me alone.” His ragged breath puffed Edward’s hair.

Edward didn’t say a word, just pushed his ass back into Jack’s groin and uttered the sweetest little moan Jack had ever heard. Christ, it took every ounce of control Jack had not to press back, to keep his dick from leaping at the taunt.

Why did Edward stir him up so? Push him to the edge of reason and control? Make him feel? Jack hadn’t felt anything in so long and he wasn’t ready or willing to start now. And even if he were, it sure as hell wouldn’t be with Edward. Jack had been so careful not to put himself in such a weak position, by cutting himself off from everyone who could hurt him or drag him down the slope to the trash pile he’d climbed out of.

Losing control with Edward would put him in danger of losing everything he’d worked so hard for his whole life, and he was never going to sink to that level again.

“Please.” Eyes closed, Jack knocked his forehead against the door. “I’m the chief of police. I’m not gay. I am not interested in you,” he whispered. It was the only way.

Edward stilled beneath him. “Let me go.”

Jack stepped back and released Edward’s arm. Blushing, Edward rubbed his shoulder.

“Did I hurt you?” Jack asked.

“Only my pride,” Edward drawled. “It’s a wonder I have any left.” He stepped away from the door, opened it and rushed out.

After a few quick breaths, Jack regained control and reined in the feelings that threatened to betray him. Then he followed Edward to the patrol car. Edward waited at the trunk, staring out at the street, his back to Jack. Jack unlocked the patrol car, lifted the two bags out and placed them at Edward’s side.

Without sparing a look at Jack, Edward picked them up and headed to his car. He tossed them in the back seat, opened the door and slipped behind the wheel.

“I hope you can forgive me,” Edward said quietly. “I seem to have made a fool of myself.” He started the car and drove off, leaving Jack with a new ache.

This time, it wasn’t in Jack’s head.