“Shit!” Chris groaned, looking torn between placing the innocent woman down so that he could fight the furious Pyte and keeping her in his arms so that he could protect her.
Deciding that enough was enough, Ephraim released the safety off his weapon, raised the gun, aimed it at the back of Christofer’s head and pulled the trigger.
Chapter 22
“We’re not bringing her back to the house!” a man shouted, jolting Cloe awake.
Gasping for air, she opened her eyes and quickly scanned the room. Terror sank in as her mind registered her last waking moment, the moment she’d accepted death and the fact that she would never get the chance to kill the son of a bitch that attacked her. Her hands shot up to her neck, frantically searching for the torn skin and blood that she knew should have been there, but instead her fingers met only smooth, sticky skin. Anxiously licking her dry lips, she sat up and scooted back as she quickly glanced around the room only to discover that she was in a hotel room. The second thing she noticed was the large bastard that had attacked her lying on the bed next to her with his hands cuffed to the headboard, appearing dead to the world and looking hotter than ever with several days of beard growth.
The bastard!
She took a shaky breath as memories assaulted her. He’d attacked her. He’d actually attacked her! The man that she’d stupidly allowed herself to feel safe with had attacked her, she fumed, her anger building to a dangerous degree. Every muscle tensed, her jaw clenched tightly until she was literally seeing red, which only told her just how pissed she was if she’d actually managed to burst the capillaries in her eyes.
Moving off the bed, she got to her feet, not really surprised that her legs were trembling since she was literally shaking with rage. That son of a bitch! She forced herself to move closer as she glared down at the bastard who looked nothing like the monster that had attacked her. Right now he somehow looked handsome and peaceful even though he was handcuffed to a bed and covered in dried blood.
Dried blood…..
Her blood!
Furious at the realization, she looked around the hotel room, hoping to find a weapon that she could use to pay the bastard back for what he’d done to her. When she didn’t find anything weapon-worthy she grabbed the closest thing to her. Not really caring that it was a pillow and that it wouldn’t do any serious damage, she started to beat the shit out of him with it. Barely two hits in and the damn thing practically disintegrated in her hands, clumps of cheap cotton filling and torn pieces of the pillow casing covered the bastard, the bed and floor, but he didn’t stir, pissing her off even more!
With a frustrated growl, she looked around again for something else to beat the shit out of him with when something occurred to her. It was something that probably should have occurred to her as soon as she woke up to find herself in a strange hotel room and Christofer was handcuffed to the bed. Someone had grabbed them and dragged them off to wherever the hell they were.
They’d obviously realized that Christofer was dangerous, something that she’d apparently missed, and had handcuffed him to the bed. They either hadn’t expected her to wake up at all or they’d assumed that she wasn’t going to be a problem. Yeah, they were wrong about that, because if they didn’t let her go, promise her that Marta was okay, give her back her phone, keys, etc. and bring her ass back to the house so that she could check on Marta then she was going to be a very big problem for them.
Her hand went back to her neck, ran over the smooth skin again, and for a split second she had to wonder if she’d dreamed the entire thing, but she knew deep down that it hadn’t been a dream. It had been too detailed, too real and the fear and pain had been too much for a dream. The memory of the attack was solid with none of the weird pauses or missing details that a dream, a nightmare really, would have created.
No, the attack definitely happened and based on how well the wound had healed it had been a while since it happened. Keeping her hand where it was, she sent one last glare at the bastard out cold on the bed and walked into the bathroom, flicking the light on as she went. Maybe there was a scab or bruises left, something that would give her a hint of how long……of how…..
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO!”
The denial rushed out of her mouth as she shook her head frantically. She stumbled back the short distance until her back slammed back against the wall, leaving her with no where else to go, nowhere to hide from the ugly truth that stared back at her in horror.
This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. There was no way. This part was definitely a dream, a horrible dream that she would wake up from at any minute. She’d most likely be in a lot of pain, her neck still torn apart and the bastard would still be tearing into her throat, but it would save her from this nightmare and right now that was okay with her.
She stared in horror at the image in the mirror as it stared right back at her, looking terrified. This wasn’t her. She didn’t have red eyes and she sure as hell didn’t have fangs in her mouth. This was not happening.
“Please don’t let this be happening,” she mumbled, feeling desperate as she raised a trembling hand to her mouth, praying that this was someone’s idea of a sick joke. She touched the tip of one fang with her fingertip, hoping the pressure would be enough to knock the obviously fake tooth out of her mouth.
Instead, she pulled her finger back with a wince as the sharp tip pricked her finger, drawing a drop of blood. This was real. It wasn’t a dream. It was either that or her mind was registering pain that her unconscious body was experiencing at the moment and carrying it into this dream. Please let it be-
“You’re not dreaming,” a deep voice suddenly announced, cutting into her panicked thoughts and drawing her attention to three very large, and very gorgeous men, standing in the hotel room behind her.
“Yes, I am,” she said weakly, hating how her voice cracked, but hating the way her chin trembled even more.
“Why don’t we have a seat and I’ll see if I can explain everything without scaring you,” the tallest of the three men, the one with jet black hair and baby blue eyes, suggested with what appeared to be a friendly smile, but that’s not what had her reluctantly nodding and doing what he asked.
He had the tone of a cop, a seasoned one at that. He appeared professional, calm and understanding, which made her relax just enough to agree to sit down and hear him out. It was either that or losing it and right now she didn’t think that she could handle losing it. She was afraid that if she lost it that there would be no coming back this time. In the back of her mind she realized that she was most likely in shock, which was probably the real reason why she was going along with this so calmly.
Never taking her eyes off the three men that made no secret of watching her every move, she took the seat by the door, needing to know that she could leave if she had to. With another one of those reassuring smiles, the tall, devastatingly handsome man sat opposite her while the largest of the three men, the one with dark brown hair, killer green eyes and a nasty pink scar on his neck, sat down on the corner of the bed she’d found herself lying on barely a half hour ago.
His attention was on her, but she could tell by the way he’d angled himself that he was keeping an eye on Christofer as well. When he raised his right hand to rub the back of his neck, she noted the white gauze wrapped around his wrist. She quickly noted that the man sitting across from her also had white gauze wrapped around his right wrist. Frowning, her attention shot to the man leaning back against the wall, his murderous glare focused on her. Feeling a little unnerved by his attention, she quickly noted that he didn’t have any white gauze on his right wrist and focused her attention back on the man sitting across from her.
“How are you feeling, Cloe?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, his attention never leaving her, his expression curious as though her answer was important to him.
“Fine,” she mumbled absently as she caught the sound of a cart being pushed past their room, the noise of a squeak
y wheel had her wincing and wondering just how thin the room’s walls were.
If she screamed for help, would anyone hear her, she wondered, trying not to cringe as that same cart came to a stop in front of their door. The sounds of overly starched cotton rubbing together and sneakers shifting on gravel had her wincing at the sudden assault to her ears. Before she could recover or even wonder what that was about, the assault on her nose immediately followed.
The coppery tang scent of old blood, expensive aftershave, sweat, dust, old cigarette smoke, body odor and a thousand odors that she could have happily lived her life without ever smelling together again, seemed to be hitting her all at once. Just when she didn’t think that she could handle anymore, an extremely sweet fragrance hit her, making her stomach growl in hunger and her gums throb painfully. She tried to breathe through her mouth, but that just ended up making her gag when she realized that she could actually taste the scents in the air. The assault on her ears intensified. The shades of red that refused to go away seemed to sharpen, become brighter and darker until she couldn’t take it anymore. She was forced to squeeze her eyes shut, cup her hands over her ears and hold her breath, gagging again as the sounds around the room seemed to explode, shooting sharp pain through her head.
“When was the last time she ate?” the man sitting across from her suddenly seemed to shout.
“Please don’t yell,” Cloe whispered, too afraid to raise her voice, but even the sound of her whisper was too much to take. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything else.
The sounds of the cart being pushed away, of the men breathing and moving, ricocheted through her head, made staying upright impossible. She needed to lie down or find a bathroom, she decided as the pain shooting through her head had a nasty effect on her stomach. Opening one eye just so that she could get a general sense of where the bed was, she quickly shut it. She stumbled to her feet and hauled ass across the room, not stopping until she was curled up on the bed, her face buried against Christofer’s chest. She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and held on, terrified that one of the men was going to drag her away.
Right now it didn’t matter that he was a monster or that he’d tried to kill her. The only thing that mattered to her was the way he made her feel, safe. She knew that the feeling was false, but right now she really didn’t give a damn, not when being next to him helped. It also didn’t hurt that his scent seemed to make everything better. She could still smell the old coppery smell of blood coming off him, but just barely. Needing an escape from this sensory overload, she kept her face buried against him, her hand fisted in his shirt and worked on ignoring everything else until she finally felt herself relax and drift off. This time she decided not to fight it, not even when she felt the bastard beneath her begin to stir.
*-*-*-*
“Try not to move,” a man whispered before Christofer had a chance to open his eyes. “She just fell asleep and unless you want her in pain, you’ll let her stay that way.”
He didn’t need to ask to know that Cloe was lying on top of him, holding onto him for dear life. Slowly, he opened his eyes, opening his senses and taking in his surroundings. His gaze shot down to Cloe, needing to make sure that she was really okay. Her hair was a mess, her clothes were worse, but her skin color was good, she felt warm against him and her heartbeat was strong and steady, which meant….
That she’d survived.
Cloe had taken his blood and not only survived, but if what Seth said was correct, then she was going to be just like him. She’d never age. She’d heal from anything as long as she drank blood. The best part, she would be strong, strong enough to protect herself against the bastard that had marked her. He was relieved that it had worked, but another part of him, the part that was struggling to accept the memories forcing their way to the front of his mind felt like a part of him was dying.
Marta was gone.
Jaw clenched tightly, he forced himself to breathe through his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to retain the weak grip that he had on his control. His sister, his best friend and the person that he’d loved more than anything was gone. Not only that, but she’d been the one to take herself away from him, leaving him alone. If he’d thought for one second that the men in this room had been the ones that took her away from him, nothing on this earth would have been able to keep him calm, not even Cloe.
He hadn’t been ready to lose her. He’d never got the chance to tell her how much he loved her and now he never would. He wanted to scream at the injustice of the situation, unleash his anger on the world, but he couldn’t. The woman lying on top of him needed him to keep it together long enough to figure out who these people were and why he was handcuffed, from the feel of it, to a bed in what smelled like a cheap hotel room.
“Just relax, Christofer,” one of the men said in a calm, soothing tone that he didn’t trust for one goddamn minute.
It was the same tone that the doctors had used on him when he’d first opened his eyes in that lab and realized that he’d changed. They’d wanted his cooperation and answers to their questions. As long as Christofer had told them what they wanted to know, they’d been nice to him, which of course had lasted for all of five seconds. He didn’t know who these men were and he honestly didn’t care. All that mattered was keeping Cloe safe until he could take her someplace-
“I’m going to remove your handcuffs,” the man said, taking him by surprise.
He opened his eyes and met the icy blue eyes of the man looking down at him with so much pity that Christofer had to force himself to look away, afraid he’d really lose it.
“We ran out of blood a few hours ago,” the man explained apologetically as he unlocked the cuff holding Christofer’s right hand immobile. “We had just enough to see Cloe past her transition and you through the worst part of your healing. Caine and Danni are getting more blood to help Cloe with the changes and some to take care of that headache that you probably have,” he explained as he removed the last cuff, making Christofer realize that his head was pounding.
“You shot me,” Christofer said a few seconds later, remembering the last time that he’d woke up with his head hurting this badly.
“You were going after my son,” the man said unapologetically, tossing the cuffs on the bed by his side where they could easily be grabbed and used to cuff him back to the bed if he stepped out of line.
“He had Cloe,” Christofer muttered, wincing as the pain in his headache intensified.
“Which is why I had to put you down,” the man said with a shrug as he sat down on the other side of the bed.
“Oh,” Christofer asked, carefully shifting so that he could sit up without disturbing Cloe, “and why’s that?”
The man sighed heavily as he said, “Because if I hadn’t, you would have killed my son for touching your mate.”
Chapter 23
“Just relax!”
Was he fucking kidding?
There was a tube down her goddamn throat, pumping blood into her stomach! There was no way in hell that she was going to be able to calm down, especially not in his arms.
“Just calm down, mein Schatz,” Christofer said, his arms tightening around her, pinning her arms to her side and stopping her from thrashing.
“Uck..ooooo!” she snapped at him, wanting to kick the bastard in the balls when he sighed heavily.
“Just swallow, Cloe,” he said, tentatively pulling one arm away after making sure that she wasn’t going to fight him and grabbed hold of the tube.
Realizing that he wasn’t going to let her up until she did what he’d asked, she narrowed her eyes on the water stained ceiling above her and swallowed. Within seconds he had the tube out and she was coughing her damn head off. With a muttered curse, he sat up and pulled her into a sitting position beside him. Before she could ask for something to drink, a bottle of ice-cold water was pressed into her hand. Coughing uncontrollably, she twisted the cover off, pressed the bottle to her lips and swallowed as she thought over everyt
hing that he’d put her through.
That….son…..of………..
“You bastard!” she snarled between coughing fits, launching herself off the bed to put some space between them, but the son of a bitch wouldn’t give her an inch. As soon as she turned around to tell him exactly what she thought of him, he was off the bed and standing only a few feet away from her, looking miserable.
“I’m sorry,” Christofer croaked, standing there with his arms by his sides, looking completely lost as he waited for her to strike.
She took a step towards him and then another until she found herself standing less than a foot away from him, trembling with the urge to slap him. She stared up at him, grinding her jaw shut to the point of pain, but she barely felt it. She couldn’t believe this was the man that she’d trusted and allowed herself to care about when he was nothing more than a monster.
Tall, Silent and Lethal Page 18
