by J. A. Saare
Arden went for her Beretta and a whistle sounded just as a dull pain in her back set her off course, throwing her weight to the right and sending the glasses protecting her eyes to the floor. Blood splattered slightly as the bullet ripped through her, exited cleanly, and took refuge in the opposite wall.
She spun toward the window, lifting the gun and aiming for whomever was firing into the room. Another round caught her in the chest, and she staggered, going onto a knee.
The rotten bitterness of bespelled blood told her what she already knew. The hand she pressed against the wound in her chest came away streaked with black, her reddened fingers sticky and wet. The horrible stench of burning flesh and scorched sulfur made her gag, the pungent odor so strong it made her queasy.
She didn’t waste time worrying about things like agony and shoved her fingers inside the wound, ripping through the tissue. The gold bullet embedded above her left breast wouldn’t kill her, but the demon magic attached to it would. She could feel the taint spreading from the wound, corroding her system.
The tips of her fingers butted against the white hot metal, the contact blistering the skin. She bit her lip to keep from crying out and watched Wolfe through a thin veil of tears as he worked on the third head of the beast. Each pass at the golden casing proved futile. The bullet continued to splinter, making it impossible to feel properly, and her blood made the surface of the gold slick.
She wanted to scream out the window and call the bastard shooting at a safe distance a coward, but playing dead was smart, and she’d filled her quota of idiocy in the last few days. She’d let the spineless asshole think he’d gotten her.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
The noises in the room were quiet, but she didn’t notice that until Wolfe’s hands gently tore hers away from the wound she continued to worry with. He didn’t look at her, lowering his head and inhaling sharply. His jaw ticked, and she felt the rage pouring off him.
“It has to come out,” he told her hoarsely, his voice cracking with the strain.
She nodded. “I can’t get a grip on it.”
He took a steadying breath and instructed gently, “Close your eyes.”
She felt the tips of his claws pierce her skin, but she managed to remain silent, showing her pain only in the tautness of her fists, face, and body. Wolfe didn’t extend her suffering by going for gentle, choosing to be fast instead.
She felt his claws bump the metal and whimpered when he spread his fingers to get a hold of the cursed object. When he had a grip, he removed it slowly to ensure it didn’t slip free on the trip out. She wanted to scream when the bullet dislodged from her, but she didn’t, collapsing into Wolfe’s chest instead.
“It’s splintered.” His voice was panicked, fingers trembling. “The poison is already in your system.”
“Trevor,” she mumbled with a suddenly thick tongue. She was dizzy and uncoordinated. “He’ll know what to do.”
She wanted to tell Wolfe not to worry, that she’d survived worse, but the blackness that rose to claim her was too strong. Even still, she resisted, using the last of her willpower to place a weak kiss to the area above his heart before everything went dark.
Chapter Ten
Wolfe studied Arden’s sleeping face, relieved to see her free of the pain that ravaged her body. Even still, a selfish portion of him wished she’d open her eyes and reassure him verbally.
The last few hours had been the longest of his existence.
“She’s out for the count,” Trevor said as he crept into the bedroom. “Using beak of nightingale tae reverse the effects means she willna wake for days yet. You may as well get comfortable.”
“You’re certain the poison is gone?”
“Absolutely,” the Warlock nodded. “The toxins have left the building.”
His gaze flickered back to his mate. The Warlock indicated that the bullet came from the vampyren gold vault, meaning they were resorting to hiring petty assassins. She could have died today, and if he hadn’t been there, she would have.
His heart constricted with grief and fear.
Fucking cowards.
“You’re right.” Trevor interrupted his thoughts. “She would have died today.”
Intrigued, Wolfe arched a brow. “You’re telepathic.”
“No’ exactly. I’m an empath. That’s how I met Arden. Her own innate perception drew me tae her.”
“How so?” he asked, frowning. “She’s born of vampire and human, not vampire and witch.”
Trevor walked to the other side of the bed and peered down. Smiling wanly, he watched Arden for a long time. Then, he said, “I haven’t shared this knowledge with anyone, Lycae. The only reason I do so now is because of the connection the two of you share. Arden is no’ your run of the mill Dhampir. She is also cursed with clairsentience through touch. Do you know what that is?”
Wolfe hesitated before nodding. The ability to perceive events and emotions through physical contact was rare but not unheard of. He’d seen witches with the ability decades before, when a Lycae mated a mortal Seer.
Trevor seemed pleased. “Good. Then you’re aware that a select few are also cursed with the third eye.”
Wolfe tried to mask the fear that increased his heart rate, nodding once more. The third eye led to madness, especially if the person with the ungodly trait kept enough chaos and turmoil locked away in the mind.
“I can sense your unrest, wolf. Doona forget that.”
Wolfe’s glittering eyes met Trevor’s. “What are you trying to tell me? That my mate absorbs the anguish of others and will eventually go mad?”
Trevor shook his head. “She can take the misery of another, but she doesn’t have tae keep it. She can pass it forward. That’s how she vanquished the demon I sought tae destroy.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“I should say no’. People with the gift are verra rare, and only exist in magically inclined families. I doona know Cricket’s mother. That’s a subject she rarely speaks of. But I believe she was either witch or Wiccan. It’s the only explanation.”
Wolfe crouched down until he was level with Arden’s sleeping face. He lifted a piece of her silken, white-blonde hair and rubbed the lock between his fingers while studying her and thinking aloud.
“Is that why she has so many enemies?”
“She has enemies because she left the Thymeria and went in search of vampyren heads. Along the way, she took on whatever stood in her path—most of which know how tae harbor a grudge. Cricket isn’t stupid. She knows if anyone discovered what she can do, she’d be a dead Dhampir walking. Death brought about by touch isn’t something immortals are keen on.”
A pounding at the door brought Wolfe to his feet, a throaty growl vibrating inside his chest.
“Down, Cujo,” Trevor scowled in annoyance. “It’s only the delivery boy. I ordered a pizza since I canna go anywhere tae eat and the fridge is empty.”
Wolfe followed Trevor as far as the bedroom door where he stopped and leaned against the frame, standing imposingly. Trevor removed a wallet from his back pocket and opened the new and improved front door he’d insisted Wolfe needed to purchase, which he’d gladly done. The teenage boy waiting just outside held up a pizza box. The fragrant aroma of sausage, pepperoni, ham, and cheese assailed him.
“Keep the change.” Trevor shoved a wad of cash into the boy’s outstretched hand, exchanging the money for the enormous cardboard box in his arms.
He slammed the door without a thank-you or good-bye and walked to the small dining table nestled between the living room and the kitchen. He plopped the box onto the top, opened it, took a slice, and eased into a chair. He took a huge bite, chewed, and then swallowed loudly.
“Well, do you want tae eat or no’?” Trevor asked before taking another heaping bite.
“Don’t you worry about things like poison? Arden cares for you. Taking you out would be an easy way to hurt her.”
Trevor cleared his m
outh and swallowed again. Then, he said, “I’m sure they would try tae poison me if given a chance. That’s why I only order from Petrelli’s. I saved their son from a rage poltergeist a few years back.” He lifted the slice to his mouth, took a chunk between his lips and ripped it free, chewing as he said, “This pizza is clean.”
Wolfe pushed away from the doorframe and walked over. He took a seat and grabbed a slice, his mouth watering. It had been hours since he’d eaten, and as a Lycae, he needed the calories. The first bite was as good as the smell promised, the cheese oozing and the meat piping hot.
“Good, is it no’?”
Wolfe nodded and consumed the slice in seconds. He quickly reached for another, but this time he chewed slowly, savoring the individual flavors.
“Do you plan on telling me what you’ve decided tae do? Or have you made up your mind?” Trevor asked before chomping on a portion of the crust.
“I’m taking her to New York with me. When we’re settled, I’ll contact Lucius Mercoix and request a meeting. I can’t do that here. Luke can’t take the risk of becoming involved. Not right now.”
“Why no’ take your place as Alpha? Pack unrest willna be an issue with you at the helm.”
Wolfe met the intense stare of the Warlock. “How long have you known?”
“I’ve been living in the Quarter for over a century, Lycae. I’m aware of the events that caused you tae leave. You canna continue tae run from the past. It is no’ your fault that a she-bitch tricked you with magic. It would no’ be the first time—nor the last—that a female has stooped so low.”
Wolfe set the pizza on the edge of the box, his voracious appetite gone. “I killed one of my own kin.”
“That’s no’ true. The magic she scribed with your name killed your kin, no’ you. Love curses are nasty. The only way tae break them is by death, sex, or the sacrifice of something significant. You could no’ have done anything tae stop what was set into motion, other than refraining from the sex that twined the magic.”
Wolfe’s mind drifted back, traveling to the not so distant past.
The memory of ripping out the throat of his brethren disgusted him. He had lost himself in that moment, unable to stop what his mind perceived and his body wrought. He couldn’t understand the possessiveness, the desire, and the raw need that consumed him when he’d met, and consequently fucked, Deidre, having foolishly believed that he had found his mate.
When the tainted Fae magic ebbed, he had learned what he’d done. Deidre was nothing more than a scorned female who ended the life of one of their own because he’d denied her advances years before. She’d used Wolfe as the means to the end, and she’d done it with a fucking smile on her face. He’d departed New Orleans and joined another pack shortly after, leaving his obligations behind and living with friends and relatives in New York.
But he couldn’t escape what he’d done, no matter how far he traveled.
“It doesn’t matter.” Wolfe shook his head and stood. “I can’t risk the pack here. I’ll take Arden home and take care of Lucius Mercoix after we arrive.”
Trevor reclined in his chair. “And how do you plan tae accomplish that?”
“I’ll give my vow that Arden will leave him be if he’ll do the same in kind.”
Trevor tossed the remaining crust of his pizza into the box before he went still. He spoke softly, eyes lowered. “That will no’ work.”
“The vampyren king isn’t stupid. He doesn’t want to war with the Lycae.”
“Oh, I have no doubt he’ll accept your offer. You’ll be doing him a favor. He’s been dodging that mate of yours for nigh on two decades now. She’s taken out his best masters and slaves time and again.”
“Then it won’t be an issue—”
“It most certainly will be an issue. Cricket will no’ rest until she has killed Lucius Mercoix and fulfilled her vow, and nothing you say or do will stop that.”
Wolfe felt sucker punched. He found himself sliding numbly into the chair he’d recently vacated, asking quietly, “She’s avowed herself?”
“She has.”
The new information changed everything he’d planned. Avowing yourself as an immortal meant you couldn’t turn away, even if you wanted to. It was more than a matter of honor. A vow was a living entity, something that could never be denied.
“Why did she do it?”
“The long answer would take away time I’d like tae use eating, so I’ll keep it simple. Lucius Mercoix killed her friend a couple of decades ago during a skirmish with the Thymeria human faction. The girl was still alive when Cricket arrived, and a wee touch was all it took for her tae see the assailant’s face.”
A dark cloud descended, heavy on his shoulders. Arden was avenging the loss of a loved one. There was nothing more dire or dangerous. She wouldn’t stop, even without the sway of the vow. That meant there was only one viable solution that didn’t involve ascending as the Alpha of the Bacchus pack.
Wolfe rose from the chair. “Where is the phone?”
“Who are you calling?”
“Taylor Martinson. I need to arrange a face to face with Lucius.”
“I doona like that idea at all.” Trevor frowned in disapproval. “The vampyren king is no’ stupid. He’ll know why you’ve come tae see him, and he’ll kill you before ever granting an audience. You need tae get on the horn tae Luke and tell him you’ve changed your mind about taking the job. Ascend tae your rightful place and take the son of a bitch down.”
Heedless of the warning, Wolfe walked toward the kitchen, searching for the phone.
“How long do I have until Arden wakes?”
“Donna be a fool, Lycae!” Trevor snapped and stood. “You’ll get yourself killed, and Cricket will avow herself twice tae the cause.”
Wolfe spun on heel and faced Trevor. He walked to the Warlock and stopped when only inches separated them. “I don’t have time to argue with you. I’m going to see Lucius Mercoix, and I’m going to do it while my mate is resting and unaware. It’s the only way to be sure she won’t follow, and to keep her safe from harm.”
“That’s a crock, and you know it. You place her in danger by putting yourself in harm’s way.”
“That’s my responsibility as her mate.”
“Horseshit.”
Wolfe growled and moved into the Warlock’s personal space. “Where is the fucking phone?”
Trevor didn’t seem frightened, just increasingly pissed off. “It’s your funeral, Lycae. I did no’ take you for a fool.” He lifted a hand and pointed across the way. “It’s on the wall just behind you.”
Wolfe turned, went to the phone, and yanked the cordless from the base. The Warlock had the right idea, but it was flawed. He couldn’t take control of the pack, not without their consent. And after the shit he’d put everyone through, he wasn’t going to ask.
If he was right, and he ended this mess quickly, he’d be back before Arden woke.
The line clicked over on the second ring.
“How may I direct your call?” a soft feminine voice asked.
“Taylor Martinson.”
“Who can I say is calling?”
Wolfe lifted his eyes and watched Trevor snag another slice of pizza. The Warlock didn’t seem interested in him any longer, enthralled by the fragrant greasy meal at his disposal.
“Tell him it’s Wolfe Trevlian.”
Chapter Eleven
“Cricket, wake up.”
Arden groaned, but the sound was muted. The blackness blanketing her was too good—too warm. She retreated, eager to return to the welcoming and blissful confines of sleep.
“We’re wasting time,” an oddly familiar male voice grumbled.
“Give her a few minutes. It takes time for daylily tae counter the effects of the nightingale.” A rough shake accompanied Trevor’s stern voice. “Arden. Wake up.”
She willed her eyes to open and struggled to focus as the black became grey. The weight of sleep still clung heavy, clouding her tho
ughts and reflexes.
“That’s it,” Trevor encouraged, and she felt a hand urging her to sit upright. “Open those lovely blue peepers for me.”
“We’re wasting time,” the deep male voice repeated.
“I heard you the first time,” Trevor snarled.
“What’s going on?” Arden managed to mumble, blinking rapidly.
