Hidden (House of Night Novels)

recovering.
    She ripped the mask from her face. “Not me. Him!” She yanked the smoldering cloth from Travis’s too still body. “He’s human—help him!”
    “Yes, ma’am,” one of the EMTs mumbled and they started working on Travis.
    “Lenobia, drink this.” A goblet was thrust into her hands and the Horse Mistress looked up to see the two vampyre healers from the House of Night infirmary, Margareta and Pemphredo, crouching beside her. Lenobia drained the wine that was heavily laced with blood in one long swallow, instantly feeling the life energy it carried tingle through her body.
    “You should come with us, Professor,” Margareta said. “You will need more than that to completely heal.
    “Later,” Lenobia said, tossing the goblet aside. She ignored the healers, as well as the sirens and voices and general chaos around her. Lenobia crawled to Travis’s head. The EMTs were busy. The cowboy already had a mask of his own, and they were starting an IV in his arm. His eyes were closed. Even under the soot smudges, she could see that his face was scalded and red. He was wearing an untucked T-shirt that had obviously been thrown on hastily over his jeans. His strong forearms were bare and already blistering. And his hands—his hands were burned bloody.
    She must have made an involuntary noise—some small outward sign of the horrible heartache she was feeling—because Travis opened his eyes. They were exactly as she remembered—whisky brown tinged with olive green. Their gazes met and held.
    “Is he going to survive?” she asked the paramedic closest to her.
    “I’ve seen worse, and he is gonna scar, but we need to get him to St. John’s ASAP. The smoke inhalation is worse than his burns.” The human paused, and even though Lenobia hadn’t taken her gaze from Travis’s, she could hear the smile in his voice. “He’s a lucky guy. You almost didn’t find him in time.”
    “Actually, it took me two hundred and twenty-four years to find him, but I am glad I was in time.”
    Travis started to say something, but his words were drowned in a terrible, hacking cough.
    “Excuse me, ma’am. The gurney’s here.”
    Lenobia moved to the side as Travis was transferred to the gurney, but their gaze never broke. She walked beside him as they rolled him to the waiting ambulance. Before they loaded him within, he pushed off his mask, and in a gravelly voice asked, “Bonnie? Okay?”
    “She’s fine. I can feel her. She’s with Mujaji. I’ll keep her safe. I’ll keep all of them safe,” she assured him.
    He reached out to her, and she carefully touched his burned, bloodied hand. “Me too?” he managed to rasp.
    “Yes, cowboy. You can bet that big, beautiful mare of yours on that.” And not giving a damn that she could feel everyone staring at her—humans, fledglings, and vampyres—Lenobia leaned down and kissed him softly on his lips. “Look for happiness and horses. I’ll be there. This time making sure you are safe.”
    “Good to know. My mamma always said I needed a keeper. Hope she rests better knowin’ I got me one.” He sounded like his throat was full of sandpaper.
    Lenobia smiled. “You’ve got one, but I think it is you who needs to learn to rest.”
    The tips of his fingers touched her hand and he said, “I believe I can now. I was just waitin’ to find my way home.”
    Lenobia stared into his amber and olive eyes that were so familiar, so very, very much like Martin’s, and imagined she could see through to that also familiar soul—to the kindness and strength, honesty and love that somehow had fulfilled his promise to return to her. Deep within her Lenobia knew that even though the rest of the tall, wiry cowboy looked nothing at all like her lost love, she’d found her heart again. Emotion clogged her voice, and all she could do was smile, nod, and turn her hand so that his fingertips rested on her palm—warm, strong, and very much alive.
    “We need to get him to St. John’s, ma’am,” said the EMT.
    Lenobia took her touch reluctantly from Travis, wiped her eyes, and said, “You can have him for a little while, but I’ll want him back. Soon.” She turned her storm cloud gaze on the white-jacketed human. “Treat him well. This barn fire is small in comparison to the heat of my temper.”
    “Y-yes, ma’am,” the EMT stammered, quickly lifting Travis into the ambulance. Before they closed the doors and, with lights flashing, drove away, Lenobia was sure she