Someone was trying to pickax their way out of his skull.

The metallic smell of dried blood weighed heavy in the air. A wave of hunger coursed through him, tightening Kenric's stomach into an agonizing spasm. His veins burned, demanding to be fed.

A thick fog clouded his mind. Where the hell was he, and what the hell happened?

Muffled voices chattered in the distance. The lethargy throughout his body had sealed his eyelids.

Pushing through the haze muddling his brain, he assessed his surroundings. Along with blood, there was an acrid scent of antiseptic. Above his head, the repetitive sound of a mechanical heartbeat pinged. Shit!

How long had he been in a hospital?

Through the insistent pounding within his skull, the memory of his battle with the DEADs returned. He'd been about to call Guerin when he'd blacked out. Where the hell was his phone? He had to get out of here. The itch beneath his skin, like a fucking sundial, warned him time was running out.

The heart monitor over his head lurched into a rapid succession of beats. Get a grip, Kenric. He couldn't risk drawing any unwanted interest. With a fierce hold on the gurney's rail for strength, he focused on the pounding of his heart, slowing it to a steady rate.

Now, to find his damn phone. He searched along his left side, feeling for the lining of his coat. A cool draft floated in under the thin sheet. Shit! Where the hell is my coat…and the rest of my damn clothes?

Approaching footsteps and a trio of voices grabbed his attention. Taking a deep breath, he stilled his movements.

"You guys go ahead and get out of here. Can you give me a rain check on breakfast? I want to check in on our John Doe one more time before I leave."

"Come on, Emily. You've been here a year already, and you keep turning me down every time I try to get you to meet someone. Jake is really interested. I know you two would hit it off if you'd give it a chance."

"I promise I will. Soon. Just not this morning. Not yet."

"Fine," a female said with a sigh.

The sharp sound of metal rings sliding over a rod near his head indicated one of them had entered his area.

Emily closed the privacy curtain of the trauma treatment room. The unidentified patient she'd found earlier at The Docks lay unconscious on the hospital gurney. Bloodstained bandages covered his flank and neck.

Once the paramedics had gotten him here, the ER had been able to stabilize him with a few universal-donor transfusions. He remained in need of additional units to bring his hemoglobin into an acceptable range, though. Unfortunately, the lab was taking longer than usual to type and cross-match him. They'd found some kind of anomaly present in his blood work. There was even talk that he possibly had some form of leukemia on top of everything else, due to the extreme elevation in his white-blood-cell count.

Emily followed the slow and easy rise and fall of his chest. She couldn't help but admire the sheer will this man had to survive. And she couldn't ignore the fact that even though he lay there covered in bandages, he was the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen.

His hospital gown stretched to encompass the breadth of his shoulders, while the arm openings strained to contain his biceps. She did love a nice set of biceps. The bedsheets covered the contours of his torso, but she remembered how his body tapered to a narrow waist and those amazing, washboard abs.

Wavy hair, a little longer in front than back, fell over his forehead, almost covering his eyes. The color was amazing. A black so deep, it shone under the fluorescents.

The dark waves framed a regally defined face; beautiful, but not in the feminine sense. Not too perfect. In fact, a pale, thin scar ran along his right cheekbone, ending about an inch above his lip. To others, the scar may have damaged his looks; to her, it added character that accentuated his masculine features. His nose was long and straight, ending above lips that, God, she could kiss all night. From the moment she had laid eyes on him, everything about him had captivated her.

Her tongue traced her upper lip, and her body tingled.

Stop it, Emily! You're a professional nurse who shouldn't be ogling a patient. Just take his vital signs and get out of here. She needed to leave this man alone.

Lifting his arm to check his blood pressure, she noticed a tattoo wrapped around part of his right bicep. Unable to resist, she traced the outline of the connecting loops. It formed a figure eight lying on its side. Infinity.

The symbol intersected with a dagger that pierced the center of the joining circles. Red drops of what looked to be blood dripped from the blade.

"What were you doing out there tonight?" she whispered.

Everything about this man was a very intriguing mystery.

Kenric lay perfectly still as the female approached him. Until he knew whom and what he was dealing with, he didn't want to give away any clue that he was conscious. She paused at his bedside for a moment before lifting his right arm and placing a cool device under his bicep. She must be a nurse. He savored the warmth of her hands on his skin as her fingertips glided over his bicep. She traced the symbol of the Enclave. His flesh tingled in the wake of the pads of her fingers.

Suddenly her touch disappeared as a cuff tightened around his arm. He clenched the fist of his opposite hand, struggling to maintain his tenuous control. Why had she stopped touching him? His fist ached from keeping such a tight hold on his denial. He wanted to grab her hand and beg for one more brush of her fingertips. Anywhere. Everywhere.