brain? Maybe you don’t even know it’s hurt.” Her eyes prominently glowed. “Faith Cooper is a renowned neurologist. She will have better theories than I do.”
Ivar’s chest filled with something warm and soothing. Was it pride? Or just affection? Maybe both. “You’re saying I had a brain injury that was healing on its own, and when I flew through your windshield, I reinjured myself?”
She rolled her eyes. “I am sorry I slammed on the brakes and you crashed through glass. All right? Are you happy now?”
He grinned. “Yeah.” Was she correct? “Though I may have a brain injury.”
She shook her head. “Don’t you see? If you discover the injury, you can heal it the same way you did the cut over your eye or the broken arm.” She straightened. “How did you do that, by the way?”
“Healing cells,” Adare said, his gaze thoughtful on Promise. “We all have them, and we can direct them mentally to where they need to go.” He turned and leaned in, right over Promise, to look into Ivar’s eyes. “Does your brain feel damaged?”
Ivar swallowed. “I don’t know.” Sometimes he barely remembered what it felt like to be healthy. To be complete and whole. “It might be.” He tried to concentrate on his brain and any empty spots, but his temples began to ache.
“The MRI is probably the way to go. If I can see where your brain lights up when you teleport, maybe I’ll know where to concentrate the cells.” Promise gave a slight hop. “Isn’t this exciting?”
Ivar nodded, more than a little entranced. He had to find more puzzles for her to solve so he could see that look on her face again. He sobered. Solving the next puzzle would send him back to hell, but he’d made peace with that a long time ago. It was just as well. He was playing at being a nice guy, at being a soldier. The real him, the animal he kept inside, would just scare her. Their time was limited, but he wanted to enjoy her while he could.
Her eyes widened, and she slowly turned to look through the doorway of her classroom. “Cripes. I forgot I was in class.” Red slid beneath her smooth skin, and she moved back toward the doorway. “I’ll be out in an hour.” She shut the door after reentering the class.
Adare exhaled. “Man, she’s smart. Absentminded professor smart.”
“I noticed,” Ivar said dryly.
Adare looked him over. “You’re calmer with her. More natural.”
“I’m faking it,” Ivar said. “I’m being who she needs me to be right now as she works on the problems. And I want her to like me.” There was no shame in being honest with his brother.
“You don’t think she’d like the real you?”
Ivar snorted. “The pissed-off, damaged, brutal soldier who not only lived through hells but became the most dangerous thing in them? No. I don’t think the sweet and brilliant Dr. Promise Williams would like that beast.”
Adare scratched his whiskered jaw. “You’re probably right.” He shrugged and moved to return to his post. “Although, who the hell knows. Women are hard to read sometimes.”
Amen to that.
Chapter Twenty-One
It was odd having a bodyguard. Especially one so sexy that several of her students followed her to her office after class, trying to engage Ivar in conversation. Promise couldn’t blame them. His size alone made him intriguing. Add in the badass masculinity, unreal blue eyes, and hard-cut features, and he was the epitome of the alpha male. For the first time in her life, she understood the appeal.
Heck. She’d orgasmed four times the night before. Four times! That was more than appeal.
They reached her office, and she pulled him inside, shutting the door and accidentally pushing back a stack of notebooks with the edge of her pump. “Stop flirting with coeds.”
His eyebrows rose. “Flirting? I was trying to keep from stepping on a couple of them.”
Amusement tickled her, and she smiled. “That’s fair.” She moved aside a couple of articles she’d written on protecting the ozone layer.
“Hey, Promise?” Mark Brookes opened her door and poked his head inside, his eyes widening at the sight of Ivar. He pushed the door all the way open. “Hello.” His shoulders went back, and he adopted his “lecturing” voice. “Dr. Mark Brookes.” He held out a hand.
Now only one of Ivar’s eyebrows lifted, and it was more of a twitch. “Hello,” he said smoothly, shaking hands. He towered over the professor by at least six inches, and Mark was tall. Well, for a