She blinks back tears and then stands and gives me a hug.
“Thank you.”
I wrap my arms around her back and hold her tight. Sometimes we just need to know we’re not alone.
She backs away and wipes the moisture from beneath her eyes.
“Actually, there is something you can do,” she admits. “I’ve wanted to go visit the Mountain People since you told me about them. I think there’s a lot of medical information that can be shared, but I haven’t been able to get away for a visit.”
“I’ll make it happen,” I tell her. “Give me a few days to organize an escort.”
“I’ll be fine on my own. I can drive if you’ll lend me a vehicle.”
“Not a chance,” I scold. “You’re too valuable to leave Sanctuary without a guard.”
She laughs. “I suppose it’s nice to be needed.”
I snort. “Our jobs are like getting our periods. Necessary, but fucking annoying.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “I don’t know if your analogy quite adds up, but I’ll take it. Being a doctor is like getting my period.”
We leave the room, still laughing.
Sadly, the sight of a towering and angry Wolfe standing in the corridor with Kingston wipes our laughter away.
Shit, I’m late for supper.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Wolfe growls, turning to me. “Do I need to tie you to a bed to get you to rest properly? Damn it, woman, I thought you had some common sense.”
I snort. “Well, that was your first mistake. When have I ever shown common sense?”
His lips twitch, and I know I have him. I glance quickly around for witnesses, and seeing just Kingston and an amused Sheela, I go up on my toes and give him a quick mask-to-mask kiss, since he’s wearing one too.
Of course, that’s not good enough for Wolfe. He wraps an arm around my waist and drags me into his body, hugging me tightly and cupping the back of my head.
When he releases me, he slides his arm around my back to hold me steady.
Sheela clears her throat. “Since you’re both here, would you like to visit the lab? We’ve been making progress. I think Silas is starting to recognize his surroundings.”
I can sense Wolfe’s disapproval with the suggestion. He wants me in a bed, recovering, which is sweet, but unnecessary. I’m gaining strength as I go.
Okay, that’s a lie. But I’m good at projecting strength, even if I’m half-dead on the inside.
“Please, Wolfe. This project is vital to the survival of our species. I want to keep informed every step of the way, and so should you.”
He grunts and squeezes my waist. “Only if the fate of humanity is involved.”
I flash him a grin and then look to the doctor. “Lead the way.”
We enter the locked and guarded research lab. My gaze goes immediately to the cage where Silas was kept, except it’s empty.
“Where is he?”
“In here.” The doctor leads us to another room, but before she opens the door, she turns to face us. “His progress may shock you. It’s been a crazy few days around here and I haven’t had time to report. He no longer needs restraints.”
She opens the door.
Wolfe grips me hard and pushes me behind him as we step through the door. He’s not happy with the idea of an unrestrained zombie.
I’m not either, but I quickly see why Silas has been allowed his freedom, though it is somewhat limited as the lab is completely secure.
Sitting on a hospital bed, with his legs dangling over the edge, Silas is little more than skin and bones. The flesh of his face seems moulded to his skull and his eyes are sunken in their sockets. His missing nose is a stark reminder of his Primitive illness. He looks so frail; it seems a miracle that he’s sitting up.
Sheela approaches him slowly. “Hello, Silas.” He blinks slowly and moves his gaze to her. There doesn’t seem to be recognition, but he responds to his name. “I’ve brought guests to visit you.”
Again, he blinks, his eyelids closing as though he needs to rest before opening his eyes. Then he slowly swings his gaze toward us.
I expect a lack of life behind those heavy eyelids, but his eyes are shining with the intelligence I once knew well.
I can’t help myself. I step forward. “Silas?”
Wolfe’s hand lands on my shoulder, his fingers biting into me in warning. I’m to go no closer to the Primitive.
It takes a moment, but finally Silas’ gaze lands on me. There’s a flash of recognition. Then his dry lips split in a smile. It’s disconcerting. I’ve never seen a zombie smile.
Sheela looks shocked and Wolfe’s hand tightens even more. I know I’m moments from being dragged from the room.
Then Silas speaks, his voice the sound of dry leaves being crushed under booted feet. “Skye.”
Twenty
His voice.
It’s the same voice. Though harsh and dull.
Once beloved because it meant comfort, safety, love.
I try to step toward Silas, but Wolfe holds me back.
I glare at him. “I want to get a closer look.”
“No.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “He won’t hurt me. I can defend myself and I have you and Kingston for protection.”
“No,” he repeats himself.
He doesn’t look at me but keeps his steady gaze on Silas.
I’m frustrated. I want to argue, but I know Wolfe. He won’t let me near Silas.
I pull my arm from Wolfe’s grip. “Someone needs to talk to him, see if he’s cognizant enough to know who we are and what’s happening. He’ll be more comfortable with someone he knows.”
“I’ll do it,” Wolfe says.
I shake my head. “You two were never friends. He might see you as a threat. He needs comfort right now.” I look pityingly at my ex-husband. “He’s probably confused and still in pain.”
“I should go.”
We turn at the sound of a soft voice behind us. Hannah. I should have known. She hasn’t strayed far from Silas’ side since he arrived in Sanctuary. Looking at her drawn face, set in lines of determination, I feel that she is probably the right choice.
“Okay?” I look up at Wolfe with a raised brow.
He jerks his head in a nod, then says to Kingston. “You go with her, stay close to her. Keep your weapon on him.”
We move back so Hannah and Kingston can slip past us. Kingston goes ahead of Hannah, his gun on Silas’ face. Silas watches him. His expression gives nothing away. His face is grey and lined. He looks fifteen years older than he is.
My heart aches as I watch him. Silas’ eyes are drawn to me and once more a spark of recognition lights in his expression.
“Skye.” He says my name again.
It should be me talking to him. I’m the one he wants, though it feels like more of a burden than pleasure. Silas is part of my past, and while I could never wish him dead, there is a part of me that wishes he hadn’t turned up.
Some kind of divine intervention has landed him back in our Sanctuary. Perhaps he is my punishment for finding happiness with Wolfe. A husband who isn’t dead. A lover who will lay the world at my feet.
“Silas,” Hannah whispers, stepping closer to him.
When his gaze swings toward her, Kingston blocks her with his body, his gun still trained on Silas.
Silas slowly unfurls his body and pushes himself to the edge of the bed. “H-h-h…”
He stutters. He’s trying to say Hannah’s name.
He shakes his head and tries again. “H-han-han.”
“Hannah,” she whispers, edging closer, pushing against Kingston’s arm. “It’s me, Hannah. I’m here with you, Silas.”
Silas shuffles closer, then falls off the edge of the bed, startling us all as he lands in a heap to the floor.
Hannah lets out a cry and lunges beneath Kingston’s arm, dropping to the ground and crawling toward Silas. She reaches for him just as Kingston grips her by her col
lar and hauls her back.
“She’s determined to kill herself,” I say, shaking my head as the scene unfolds in front of us.
“Thought you were on her side,” Wolfe grunts.
“That’s your problem, soldier. There are no sides in this war. No us and them. They’re us and we’re them. I can look at that man and see both Silas and a Primitive. I can recognize that he’s dangerous and still want to help him.”
I look up at Wolfe to find him staring at me with a strange expression.
“Exactly right,” Sheela says briskly. “We may find a way a to cure Necrotitis Primeval, but the victims of this disease will be changed.” She waves, indicating Silas. “He recognizes you and Hannah, but he’s not the same man he used to be.”
My throat is tight as I think about the significance of what we’re doing. Is it right to change them back when they’re doomed to become twisted versions of themselves? Is it right to make that decision for them?
When Silas continues to lie motionless on the floor, Kingston eases his grip on Hannah, allowing her to crawl closer. She looks up at Kingston, then slowly wraps her arms around Silas.
She whispers to him, words that we can’t hear.
At first, Silas doesn’t move, but then he does the extraordinary. Slowly, inch by inch, he wraps an arm around Hannah and digs his fingers into the fabric of her shirt, clinging to her. His shoulders heave as though he’s crying, but no tears appear.
I can tell, even from my distance, that he’s too weak to cause any damage to Hannah. My shoulders relax as I watch, grateful that it was her to go in. She’s exactly what Silas needs. She can be his comfort.
The day’s events hit me like a pile of bricks and my knees buckle, sending me toward the floor.
Wolfe reacts with the lightening fast reflexes he’s known for, gripping me around the waist and hauling me up against his side.
I look up at gratefully and give him a half smile. “Thanks.”
“Time to go home,” he grunts, bending to slide his other arm beneath my legs and lifting me.
I wrap my arms around his neck and tilt my head against his chest. “Time to go home.”
When we arrive at the palace, I’m greeted by my sister, who watches anxiously as Wolfe carries me into the Warlord’s chambers. Taran and Diogo follow.
“What’s wrong?” she demands.
I shake my head and push against Wolfe’s chest until he sets me down. He keeps a hand on my waist for steadiness.
“Nothing’s wrong.” I smile at her to show that I’m perfectly fine. “I got tired at the hospital and Wolfe carried me back.” I follow the smells of delicious food into the dining room. “Let’s eat, I’m starving.”
We settle at the table and again I’m hit by a wave of nostalgia. Along with my nephew, Blaze, these are the people I care about most in the world.
Taran is still watching me with a sceptical expression, worried that I might drop dead at any moment. I decide to introduce another subject.
“The Necrotitis treatment is working.”
Taran gasps, her gaze swinging to her husband, who looks back at her steadily. Then she looks at me again. “You’ve turned someone back?”
I nod. “He’s recovering now in our hospital.”
“Emery seemed to recover too,” Taran murmurs, her eyes bright with the pain of losing her best friend and surrogate mother. Emery had been bitten while I was in Tucson Sanctuary. We did what we could for her, but the ravages of the disease were such that her organs were never able to fully recover, eventually going into full shutdown. The loss had devastated Taran.
“Emery was given a full dose of my blood, which worked to change her quickly back into a human. We’ve separated the antibodies from the blood and are giving moderate doses over the course of weeks to the Primitives in our care.”
“How many do you have?” Diogo asks.
“Three for now,” I admit. “We were using one as a control group but gave her the treatment as well. We don’t have the resources to keep a live Primitive in Sanctuary.”
“You mean, you aren’t willing to sacrifice citizens to the Primitive’s hunger,” he says wryly. “Hardly a group, anyway. You don’t have enough of them to come to any conclusions.”
“Have you tried capturing live zombies?” I demand.
“What’s the point?” he asks, taking a long drink of beer.
“How about getting your loved one’s back?”
“My loved ones are in this room. I don’t need to bring zombies back to life.”
I snort with laughter and sip my wine. “Aw, I’m flattered to be considered a loved one.”
“Keep it up and I’ll put you on the undead list.”
Taran’s head swivels between us, but she doesn’t insert herself. She’s used to my contentious friendship with her husband.
Wolfe watches with narrowed eyes. He hadn’t spent as much time in the Tucson Sanctuary as I had, so he’s not used to seeing my sparring matches with Diogo. I can feel jealously coming off him in waves and I want to touch him, to reassure him.
Wolfe is a confident man. He has every right to be. He’s strong, powerful, skilled. But he’s not good at holding long conversations or verbal sparring. He uses actions instead of words. And while I enjoy the occasional verbal match, I prefer the physicality of my lover.
We finish our supper and Taran and Diogo retire early, leaving me alone with Wolfe. I watch him, my eyes growing heavier with each blink.
“Come.” He stands and crosses to my side of the table, holding a hand out to me.
I take it and allow him to pull me up from my seat.
He swings me up in his arms and carries me to our bedroom, placing me on the bed.
I wrap my arms tight around his neck when he tries to move away from me. “Kiss me.”
He stares down, then he lowers his head slowly and presses his lips to mine.
It’s not the ferocious kiss I’m used to from him, but the heat always simmering beneath the surface rises anyway.
I pull back. “I want you.”
He shakes his head. “No, Skye.”
I can see the strain on his face, feel the excitement in his body. He wants me as much as I want him.
“You can be gentle.” I reach for the hem of his shirt and slide my hands up his torso, savouring the ridges of muscle beneath. Hot flesh over steel. My mouth waters and I long to lick him, taste his sweat, and drive him crazy.
He touches my face and kisses me again, this one more passionate, but still gentle. He slides his tongue into my mouth, exploring, caressing.
As he kisses me, his hand drifts down my front and slides into my leather pants. I lift my hips, giving him better access.
My breathing grows heavier, and he swallows my gasps.
The sweet ache between my thighs sings as his fingers slide through my folds and bury themselves inside me.
He plays me like a master and I cling to him, riding his hand as he takes me higher and higher. I dig my nails into his neck; I buck and I beg, dragging my lips from his.
“Please, fuck me, Wolfe!”
He doesn’t speak, but continues to thrust his fingers inside before sliding up to thrum my clit.
I rotate my hips, desperately reaching for the orgasm he promises.
It doesn’t take long.
I scream my release, biting down on his ear.
His touches grow softer, gentler as my hips fall to the bed.
He pulls his fingers from me and holds them to his nose, taking my essence in, before licking them.
My heart hammers and I reach for the buttons of his pants. He interlaces his fingers with mine and drags my hand over my head.
He kisses my lips one more time and says, “No.”
I pout, but I know Wolfe. He doesn’t change his mind. He’s determined to protect me.
“Sleep.”
He touches his fingertips to my eyelids, and I scent myself on him. A sizzle of erotic satisfaction runs down my spine. This
man, this powerful man, belongs to me alone.
I do as he says and close my eyes.
I feel the shift of the bed and wonder if he’s leaving or taking off his clothes. I’m too tired to check and I’m sound asleep before I find out.
Twenty-One
Wolfe
Skye is asleep before I leave the room. Probably for the best. She wouldn’t approve of what I’m about to do.
Kingston is still at his post, standing outside the door to the Warlord’s suite. He moved from our bedchamber door when Skye showed signs of recovery, giving us our privacy.
“Your relief will be here soon?”
He nods.
“Stay until I’m back. I’ll be more comfortable with both of you watching over her.”
“Done,” he says.
I admire his ability to soldier through the discomfort of a long day to continue watch over his charge. Then, he is in the enviable position of being personal guard to the Warlord. It takes a tough person to trail after my woman all day and watch over her for half the night.
I will talk to Skye about promoting him. He deserves a title.
I leave my car behind and walk to the hospital. The evening is clear, the stars and the Milky Way bright overhead. When I was young, before I left the Tijuana Sanctuary, my grandfather told me stories of the bright lights of cities blotting out the stars. I can’t imagine not seeing the sky map laid out in front of me, guiding my journey.
Though they don’t interfere with night visibility, a few lights do flicker throughout Sanctuary. Our hospital is the brightest building in the city, easy to see in the darkness shrouding the streets.
Though we can harness a small amount of electricity from ground generators, most of our light comes from oil lamps and wax candles, which we must use sparingly. If we can bring the hydroelectric dam online, it’ll be a game changer for our Sanctuary. Silas was able to get the treatment plant running under his regime, but never the dam. Then plant was damaged again in the attacks last year.
My boots echo on the concrete as I walk.
I climb the steps to the hospital and drag the door open. Walking past reception, I nod to the night nurse who passes me a mask.
Skye's Sanctuary (The Sanctuary Series Book 5) Page 12
