She shifted her knee between his legs, daring him to come any closer. “Another reason why I’d never pick you.”
He shoved away from her, startling her with his strength. The door clicked and he flung a hand into the air, slamming it shut without ever coming within reach.
“Anna?” Grace called from the hall.
Cain looked at her and shook his head, warning her not to speak. Grace, get Adam. Cain’s in here.
She gasped and footsteps bounded down the hall as she ran.
“You think you’re clever?”
“I think you better leave.”
He caught her arm, his mouth firming and eyes narrowing. “Maybe I’ll take you with me.”
She shook her head. “You won’t do that to Adam.”
“Don’t tell me what I will and will not do!”
She flinched but didn’t back down. “He wants to help you.”
“Nothing can help me.”
“Then why are you here? Why did you come back?”
“Because you made me! I should have never listened!” His hands tightened around her upper arms, and he growled in her face. “Perhaps you’re a witch.”
Footsteps pounded, echoing her heart. “Leave. If they find you in—”
“Anna!” Adam’s voice yelled, his fists pounding on the door.
“Stop pretending you care,” Cain hissed.
“I do care! Go, now. The window!”
“Annalise!”
“Come with me.”
“I can’t. I love Adam.”
Her words sank through the air like a metal kite, and Cain staggered back. The door splintered open and Adam’s roar ripped through the room, reverberating every wall of the house.
“Adam, no!”
Cain thrust her behind him. “Adam—”
But it was too late. The second Adam saw his hands on her he lunged, springing at Cain with his teeth bared. Screams erupted and then the world silenced, as Annalise’s head smacked into the corner of the dresser. Her vision blurred and her surroundings smeared as she fell to the ground, and everything faded to black.
Chapter Forty
A guttural roar ripped from Adam’s chest as he lunged at his brother. Lips curled over his extended fangs, claws wide and set to flay his flesh. Hurling his full weight into Cain, his talons carved through his clothing, catching on skin and muscle. Screams erupted. Adam’s teeth tore through flesh and tendons. Blood coated his teeth and tongue as rage swallowed him whole. His mind set to kill.
“Adam!”
His incisors and claws ripped layer upon layer of raw open flesh, until the air saturated with blood, and his gums were drenched and dripping with torn bits of gushing life.
“Adam, you’re killing him!”
She’s mine! The snarled declaration reverberated in his head, but his mind was too far gone to communicate in words they’d understand.
Something grabbed hold of his back. Belligerent snarls ripped from his throat as he bucked and growled, swiping his claws at whatever tried to stop him. A territorial need climbed inside of him, a fever pitch sweeping through his blood, tightening his need to claim his mate.
Claws cut down his face, burning the flesh and exposing bone. Rivulets of blood flooded his eyes, propelling him into a blind fury. Ballistic clawing, scratching. Furniture flew and females screamed as several strong arms tried to contain him. The more they restrained him, the harder he fought.
Eyes on the target, he went after the limp form. There would be no satisfaction until the threat was dead, and she was his.
Teeth sinking into flesh, he whipped his head from side to side, ending him. His sides heaved as he released the limp flesh and muscle. A low purr ticked from within, as the scent of his mate’s blood mingled with that of his brother’s.
Through blurred vision, his brother rose from the floor. His shredded clothes and body oozed life. He put a bleeding hand in front of her and Adam attacked again. Propelling himself with all his strength and force, he took down his brother.
“Adam!”
Glass shattered, pelting his face and eyes in an explosion of shards. Something grabbed hold of his limbs and he thrashed, snapping his foaming gums and snarling teeth.
Fierce arms hoisted him against the wall. His head slammed into the plaster and his father pinned him in place, breath seething through sharpened teeth.
“Enough!”
Through the red haze of blood and rage, the roar slowed to a rush of rapids in his blood as his heart pounded out a furious beat in his pulse.
His father’s eyes locked with his. “Enough, Adam.”
He bared his teeth and growled, struggling to break free of their hold, but too many older, stronger males restrained him. Snapping his head side to side, he bucked and hissed.
Sobs mingled with screams. Tortured sorrow seeped into the adrenaline. When the identifiable swing of his mother’s heartache hit him like a pendulum, it tore his heart with it. Her wretched screams and agonizing shrieks carried from the yard.
He recognized Larissa’s horror. Tasted her panic.
His father’s worry and disappointment eviscerated him. But it was Gracie’s soft weeping from the corner that sobered him.
“Ganoonk, Adam.” His father’s hold trembled from strain. “You’ve done enough.”
Delicate, feminine cries emanated from the corner of the demolished room. His breath labored. His mind hummed to his accelerated pulse as it throbbed in his skull.
Gracie cradled something in her lap as she wept and rocked.
Bearing his fangs, he scented the air, searching for his mate. His attention jerked back to Grace and he roared.
“Hold him!”
The men tightened their grip, shoving him back into the wall with enough force to crack his skull and the plaster.
His mate’s blood pierced the air, calling to him. He could not refuse the scent. “Release me!”
“Stay back!” Grace’s panicked command stilled his struggled. “She’s hurt. Her pulse is too low.”
Adam hissed at the sight of her hands on his mate, the snarling beast inside of him demanding he claim her. Too many. They were too close to her. He needed to take her away from here.
His father grabbed his face and slammed his head into the wall, forcing him to look into his eyes.
“Do you hear your mother’s grief? You did that to her, Adam! Your rage makes you forget you are not the only male devoted to the women of this family! And your mate needs you calm. Look at what your actions have wrought. See the damage you’ve done.”
His chest vibrated with seething breath. The scent of his mate’s blood grew stronger, until it was all he could smell.
His mother’s cries rose in the distance. Choking grief strangled him.
“I can’t read her thoughts,” Gracie cried, her hand pressing to his mate’s face. Blood seeped through her fingertips as she cradled her head on her lap.
Hair, the color of fire, threaded with gold, caught his gaze. Annalise’s hair.
His mind turned like a dial, memories colliding into one. Annalise’s smile, her laugh, the way she stubbornly argued with him. Her lips. Her softness. The gutting weight of her tears. The taste of her happiness. The tart flavor of her temper. The musk of her lust. The decadent essence of her love.
She was bleeding. Bleeding. His mate…
His muscles bunched and he struggled. His father filled his view. “You must control yourself, Adam. She’s hurt.”
“Anna!” He grappled, desperate to break free and go to her. “Please!”
His father’s hands loosened. “Let him go to her.”
One by one, the other males loosened their grip and Adam crashed to his knees beside Annalise’s wilted form. “Give her to me.”
Gracie’s concern welled up like a tidal wave. Her apron wore Annalise’s blood. He pulled her limp body into his arms, the drenched material of her gown seeping onto his skin.
“Where is she hurt?”
“Her head and her arm.” Grace rushed to the dresser, returning with the pitcher. She tore her apron into rags, wetting them and sopping up the river of red that rushed from Annalise’s temple. “She’s losing so much blood.”
“Ainsicht…” He rocked her on his lap, cradling her close, listening for her pulse. The featherlight beat rippled delicately. He pushed into her mind, commanding her to open her eyes.
“Annalise, look at me. Do as I say!”
She lay limp and unresponsive in his arms.
“She can’t hear you,” Gracie whispered.
“She has a head trauma,” he cried, looking up at the men who he trusted to advise him. “What do I do?”
They stared back, not a single one offering a solution.
“Help me!” he screamed. “I’m losing her!”
“You have to give her your blood,” Gracie said. “Adam, she’s lost too much. You can still save her.”
His body convulsed with worry as he pulled Annalise’s failing body onto his lap, cradling her protectively to his heart. “Get the Bishop. Go now!”
His sister raced out of the room. The men crowded into the hall.
He pulled Annalise’s frail form to his chest and wept into her neck as blood continued to seep from her wound. “My love. Don’t leave me.” He buried his face in her hair, holding her tight as tears burned his face.
What have I done?
Chapter Forty-One
Cain’s mind snapped to alertness as immortal blood rushed over his tongue down his throat. His fingers twitched, burning from the inside out where torn ligaments and muscle were exposed to the open air. His eyes burned like acid. Hysterical cries surrounded him.
His throat pooled with blood and he choked, unable to speak.
“You must drink, my sweet boy.”
Softness cradled his withered body, mangled and burning in pain. A cool cloth pressed to the lacerations of his face.
“Abilene, that’s too much.”
“He needs more!” His mother’s cries registered, the taste of her blood filling his mouth.
“You’ll drain yourself. Enough.”
“He can have mine, Mother.” Larissa’s scent pierced the pain as her fluttering vein pressed to his lips. “Take what you need, brother.”
His fangs reflexively impaled her vein, and warm, lifesaving blood rushed into his mouth. Tissue and sinew connected, sewing wounds and regenerating flesh. The pain was deep and the weakness deeper.
Flesh formed over shards of glass buried in his muscle. He’d have to use his claws to dig them out later. For now, he needed to heal. He needed to get to Annalise.
His mind turned to her, meeting nothing but silence. His ears focused on any distant sound, but too many shouted nearby. He needed to scream for silence, but he needed blood more.
Pulling his mouth away, he swallowed the thick liquid coating his lips and tongue. Each breath tore like razor blades along his ravaged throat.
“Anna…” he rasped, his vocal cords shredded to ribbons.
“Shh, don’t talk, my love.” His mother’s trembling hand pushed his hair aside. Her tear stricken face filled his view, and he knew by the sorrow in her eyes that his injuries were life threatening.
“Momma—” He choked as he tried to speak.
“Drink more,” Larissa coaxed, pressing her wrist back to his lips.
His muscles screamed as he placed an unsteady hand on her arm. Where was Anna? He could scent the blood, not all of it his.
A shadow blocked the moonlight. He blinked as a tall, dark figure stood over his sister. His eyes were too full of blood to see clearly. Pain skewed his vision as he blinked.
“Silus,” the male called. “Take your wife into the house.”
“I can’t leave my brother—”
“Larissa,” Silus snapped. “Do as the Bishop says.”
“Silus, fetch a makeshift gurney. We have to get him away from here. Abilene, go see to your other children.”
“Bishop King, please—”
“Make haste, woman!”
His head lowered to the grass, the sky turned above him in a haze of agony as the Bishop’s silhouette blocked the moon.
The arteries of his heart wove tight, stealing his breath. His mother’s lips trembled as she pressed a kiss to his brow. “I love you, my son.”
“He still needs blood,” Larissa argued. Her hands lifted his head off the boggy ground, her wrist pressing to his lips. “Keep drinking.”
“All females inside, now,” Bishop King commanded.
“He needs more blood!”
He would heal. Her blood would speed the process and lessen the pain, but he’d had enough to ensure the fatal wounds had not ended him. He weakly turned his face away from her offering. “Do as you’re told, Larissa.”
Something flashed in her eyes. Her mouth set into a stubborn strike across her beautiful face. “I’m sick of men telling me what’s best. Drink.”
She pressed her vein to his lips, and he was too weak to defy her command.
“Bishop!” His lashes twitched at the panic sound of Gracie’s cry. “Bishop King, we need you inside! Adam’s mate is wounded and—”
Cain struggled to sit up. His cursed wounds hindering his movements and driving him back to the ground. Coughing and choking, he pushed Larissa’s arm away. “An—”
“If you want to help her, you need your strength,” his sister hissed, holding him down. “Do as I say.”
Where had this officious side of her come from? He grappled against her impressive strength. “I need—”
She leaned close to his ear so the others could not hear. “Your injuries will be fatal if you do not keep drinking, Cain. Please. I can’t bear to think of a world without you. You need your strength to escape this place. They’ll punish you.” Her voice ceased with emotion. “You need your strength.”
His heart tore at her words, and he pulled vigorously from her vein, stealing painful gulps to speed the process. He couldn’t bear to tell her it was over. He’d never have the strength to run. Too many witnesses had been present. They would have him in custody before he even got off the ground. And come morning, he’d be executed for his sins.
The Bishop called out orders to the males. “Take him to the detainment cells. See he’s restrained and guarded. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
Cain blinked up at Larissa, eyes pleading, speaking without words. What would happen to Annalise? Where was she?
His sister glanced at the house, her brow puckered with worry. As he continued to drink, she leaned close. “Adam will fix her. Worry about yourself. That’s all you can do right—”
“Larissa!”
Her arm jerked away, her flesh ripping hard against his teeth, as Silus yanked her away from him. Pain exploded in Cain’s skull as his head smacked into the ground.
“I told you to get inside!” The back of his hand connected to her cheek, dropping her to Cain’s side.
Fury rose inside of him, but his injuries left him crippled and helpless. From the corner of his eye, he saw her push to her hands and knees, the open flesh of her wrist torn from his teeth. A small trickle of blood dripped from her nose.
“Get up!” Silus bellowed, yanking her to her feet.
Her cry stifled as her husband shook her. “He’s a blight on this order. You embarrass yourself and me.”
“No!” She pushed out of his arms, reaching for Cain, only to be yanked back. “I can’t leave him like this.”
Silus jerked her away. “You can’t save him, woman. His actions assured that.”
The world silenced for a beat. Perhaps he lost consciousness. Then he roared in pain as strong arms lifted him off the ground. They wrenched him onto a gurney, pulling tender muscles and tearing flayed flesh. The pain attacked his mind as they hauled him onto a carriage.
In the distance, his sister’s cries carried. Winking in and out of consciousness, he tried to sense Annalise, but his injuries prevented the necessary level
of focus. Each attempt sapped his strength, until he blacked out again and again.
His head throbbed. While his other injuries slowly began to heal, the wound at his temple would not. Sharp, throbbing pain consumed him.
The carriage lurched and he winced, unable to hold on as his body pitched into the side of the wagon. The sound of the others drifted farther away until his pounding heart, and the pounding of horse hooves was all he could hear.
Chapter Forty-Two
Adam reopened his wrist a third time, smearing his blood over her unmoving mouth. “Drink, ainsicht.”
The wound started to seal. “No…”
He shook as the blood flowed uselessly down her chin, mixing with what was already shed. “Drink!”
Working hard to calm his tremors, he bit at his wrist again. His unsteady fingers opened her mouth and he trickled several drops of his blood over her tongue. He massaged her throat, hoping to help her swallow. “Please, ainsicht. You must…”
His mind fragmented with apologies that might never be said. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered.
The door creaked, but he would not take his focus off his mate.
“Is she breathing?” The Bishop’s long legs approached and Adam tightened his protective hold of her, angling her body toward the corner. “Adam, what have you done?”
He choked back a sob of outrage. He needed no admonishment for his actions. “I can’t lose her.”
The bishop crouched at his side. “May I?”
Desperate, Adam nodded and the man felt her wrist for a pulse. “She’s alive.”
He lowered her arm and lifted the hair away from her face. Adam’s blood smeared with hers, hiding her lily-white skin.
“She’s not drinking,” the Bishop assessed, resting his hand over her head. “Drink, child.”
Her lashes twitched as her lips tightened on his wrist. Adam’s breath caught. “She’s started.”
“You must bond. Now.” They didn’t have much time. The Bishop knelt beside him, assessing the damage. “Take her blood.”
This wasn’t how it was meant to be. He lifted her frail arm. His thumb traced the pale vein at her wrist, the flutter of her pulse hardly detectable. So much blood still seeped from her temple.
Original Sin (The Order of Vampires Book 1) Page 37
