Bearing Armen - Book Three

by Brenna Lyons

  “What are you doing?” Mack choked. Egging him on didn’t seem wise, but maybe she figured that keeping him talking meant less time getting hit. Or, maybe she hoped to keep him distracted long enough for her family to make it to them.

  Melissa didn’t answer him. “Who was it to you? A master? A lover?”

  Brandle swiped at Mack’s exposed face with a roar of fury. He ducked left; Michelle went right. In almost surreal slow motion—or so it seemed—the claws touched her face, retracted slightly, and the vampire flew away. Her rebound forced them both hard against the wall. She sagged slightly, groaning.

  “Melissa?” he questioned frantically. He couldn’t hold her up without becoming a target, and he wouldn’t make her take more abuse than she could stand. Mack had never felt so helpless in his life.

  She straightened, treading the fingers of her left hand through his and squeezing in reassurance. “Here,” she gasped. Her hand shook slightly, but she seemed determined to hold on for reinforcements.

  He couldn’t let her do this. He couldn’t hide behind her and let her get hurt. “Let it have me,” he whispered. “Get out of here while you can, while it’s still recovering.”

  “Never. I won’t lose you to that damned beast.”

  “I won’t lose you to it. It’s going to kill you to get to me. The amulet isn’t foolproof. You’re getting hurt. I know you are.”

  “The Warriors will make it on time. They’re close. Please, gods. They have to be close.”

  “If it comes down to a choice, you have to let it take me.”

  “It won’t. Oh, shit.”

  Her choked whisper brought Mack’s attention back to the beast.

  Brandle was up and running. Mack calculated the damage this amount of force would do to Melissa in sick disbelief. He wrapped his right arm around her waist and started to lift her out of harm’s way, moving sideways along the wall.

  The ripping sensation through his forearm announced that he’d failed. Mack screamed in a mixture of pain and misery as the vampire rebounded and its claws ripped free.

  They collapsed together, her hand loosening. Mack eased his left arm from under Melissa, smoothing her hair, whispering her name though he knew there would be no answer. She was unconscious.

  The damned thing was getting back up, smiling widely at its victory already.

  Mack forced himself to his feet, grasping a dented aluminum baseball bat that had fallen from one of the trash cans with his uninjured left hand. He stepped over Melissa, ignoring the blood running off the tips of his fingers and the blinding pain of the slashes. “If you want me, come and get me. You’re not touching Melissa again while I live.”

  Brandle licked Mack’s blood off its claws. “You think you can stop me?”

  “I’ll sure as hell try to.”

  “Little boy, you don’t know what you’re asking for. Killing you is going to be sweet pleasure.”

  Mack glanced at Melissa, then back to his foe. “I think I have a clue. If I had a sacred weapon, I’d shove it so far up your ass you’d taste shit, Brandle.”

  The vampire’s eyes narrowed and then widened. It arched forward, jerked, and fell to a heap on the concrete.

  Tyler appeared behind it. “Allow me to make him eat that...” His cocky smile faded, and he paled, his gaze moving past Mack to his sister. “Ani, no,” he breathed.

  Mack turned toward her, collapsing to his knees, abruptly dizzy. “It was a gut shot...hard.” His voice was thick. He touched her blood-soaked sweater. “Blood’s mine. I think it’s mine.”

  Her brother was abruptly beside him, pulling up the sweater and running his hands over the unbroken line of her abdomen. He prodded at it, looking for signs of deeper injury, then checked her pupil response. “Can you walk?”

  “Yes...I think. If not, take her.”

  Tyler pulled out a strip of black cloth, bound Mack’s injuries tightly, then scooped up Melissa, dragging Mack up after them by his uninjured arm. “Follow me.”

  * * * *

  James cradled the phone to his ear, pen in hand. It would be whatever Warrior had reached the protected under attack first. “Tell me,” he ordered.

  The move would have to be handled quickly and efficiently. When the beasts decided that the amulet wasn’t reason enough to stay away, it was standard practice for the Warriors to protect their charges in any way they had to, and a move was essential to that.

  “Dad?” Tyler called back, his voice strained to near panic.

  He furrowed his brow. Tyler didn’t call him ‘Dad’ when he was hunting. There were no relations in duty. Something had him rattled. “Here.”

  “Get to the clinic. Now.”

  His blood ran cold. “Who’s hurt?” It couldn’t be a Warrior, and an injured protected was bad news for everyone. It undermined the trust of every protected, and it hurt Warrior morale. Not to mention, no one liked to lose a protected.

  There was a muttered curse from the other side of the connection. “Please, just do what—”

  “Tyler,” he barked, putting the demand of a house lord into it without speaking the words. Every Warrior recognized the tone promising pain for disobeying such an order.

  “Mack and Melissa.”

  James felt faint.

  “I’ve called in both George and Angela. Mack can’t wait, but I don’t want Melissa to.”

  He nodded stiffly, even as he reasoned that Tyler couldn’t see it. Calling in both of their doctors at once was a bad sign. It meant that the injuries weren’t minor, whatever they were.

  “Dad? Are you still with me?”

  “How bad are they?”

  “I don’t know. They’ll survive, I guess.”

  “I’ll make it there.” He hung up and turned to find Beth in the doorway with Michelle just behind her. He didn’t wonder at it. If Beth hadn’t sensed that something was wrong, Michelle surely had. His wife and daughters were unusually close.

  “It’s Melissa,” Beth stated. “Isn’t it?”

  James nodded numbly.

  “Let’s go.”

  “I’ll drive,” Michelle offered. “You’re in no condition to.”

  He didn’t remember much of the ride to the clinic. James supposed that Michelle drove much too fast, but in his near-madness, any speed would have felt too slow.

  The next truly coherent moment for him was walking into the clinic room where Tyler sat next to Melissa and Angela stood across from him, a clipboard in hand. His daughter was pale, and there was a bruise on her cheek, but she wasn’t hooked to machines as he’d feared she might be. The sight of her covered in a mass of tubes and wires would have been his end.

  Angela cleared her throat. “Melissa is going to be okay, though the soreness is going to last several weeks,” she assured him.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Her blood is stable, and the tests show no soft tissue damage past the bruising.”

  Beth voiced his question for him. “What did the beast do to her?”

  “Severe amulet bruising. Given enough time, the beast would have beaten her to death that way.”

  James fisted the lower bed rail, growling at the mental image.

  Angela didn’t seem to notice; she was busy consulting the file she’d had tucked under the clipboard. “It didn’t have nearly enough time for that, of course. Her face, her shoulder... The one that put her out was to her abdomen. I think the pain was too much for her. I’ve given her something for it.”

  The rail bent, creaking as he tightened his grip. Angela gasped and moved a step away.

  “James,” Beth snapped. “You need to calm down. You’re frightening the protected.”

  He nodded, forcing his Blutjagd back. “My apologies,” he grumbled.

  “None needed,” the doctor managed calmly. “Now, the man brought in with her—”

  James winced. “Mack. How bad is he?”

  “He’ll recover...maybe not to one-hundred percent of his original dexterity, though. George is pie
cing him back together at the moment. He’ll need physical and occupational therapy for his injured arm. We agreed that it looked most like a mauling by a large dog. That’s what we reported it as.”

  “I gave him protection,” Tyler broke in. “When he was headed into surgery, I gave him an amulet and blessing.”

  “Without checking?” James asked. Tyler never skipped protocol; now he had twice in a day? There hadn’t been a feeding. That meant protecting Mack hadn’t been an emergency; beasts couldn’t track him without a feeding. The house lord should have been consulted before protection was offered.

  His son darkened. “He has the heart of a Warrior,” he grumbled. “He deserved no less.”

  “He tried to fight the beast off Melissa?” Gods, but the man would have died trying without protection.

  Tyler nodded. “With a baseball bat... He was injured, bleeding out. He knew what he was facing, but he didn’t run, didn’t panic, and didn’t leave Melissa to the beast. He placed himself between it and Melissa and accepted death; he even threatened the beast with as much damage as he could do on the way to death.”

  James nodded. “I’m impressed. It takes a strong man to do something like that. I approve.”

  “There’s more.”

  “What?” James caught the small box Tyler tossed his direction in one hand, without taking his gaze off Melissa.

  “I think he planned to ask Baby Doll to marry him tonight. The ring was in his jacket pocket...and they were headed to the manor when they were attacked.”

  He stared at the blue velvet box, a lump rising in his throat. If he had to release a daughter to marriage, he could think of no better man to release her to. “Will Mack be able to travel when he comes out of surgery?”

  Angela considered it for a moment. “I don’t see why not.”

  “Good. We’ll relocate him to the manor with Melissa. He’s more than earned a place in the family.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  March 8, 2002

  Mack opened his eyes, staring at the room around him in confusion. It wasn’t a hospital room, and it wasn’t his apartment. It was as big as the combination living and dining room at his apartment, and it was beautifully decorated: cool blue walls, nearly-matching high thread count sheets, a Battenberg lace quilt, and brocade drapes.

  “Where the hell am I?” he grumbled. He forced himself up, wincing at the pain slicing through his right arm, panting as he cradled the braced and bandaged appendage to his chest. Mack glanced around at the room one more time, taking a deeper breath as the throbbing eased slightly. Maybe they’d taken him to what Melissa called ‘the manor.’

  “There’s no way to know unless I ask.” Since there was no one in the room, he’d have to get up to accomplish that.

  Thankfully, he was still wearing his jeans. Heading out nude would have made him think twice. He would have done it, if for no other reason than to get information about Melissa, but he would have considered it first.

  Mack ran his left hand over his chest, seeking out whatever was brushing over it. His fist closed on a metal disk on a leather thong that was undeniably an amulet. “That’s good news,” he muttered. At least if another vampire showed up, he’d have a better chance at protecting Melissa and himself.

  He started out, making his way to the hall, then following the sound of voices to a wide staircase and down.

  Children running through the foyer at the base stopped to stare at him, wide-mouthed. One of them bowed his head slightly and whispered something about ‘the human Warrior.’ Mack nodded to him, though he didn’t understand what the greeting meant.

  “What are you three up—” The familiar voice stopped abruptly as Mack whirled to her.

  “Melissa...” He shook his head to clear his twitching vision. “No. You’re not Melissa. You must be Michelle.” He’d never met her sister, but the woman couldn’t be anyone but Melissa’s twin.

  She smiled, striding to him, taking his uninjured arm. “Which means you’re more intelligent and observant than my second boyfriend. He laid one hell of a kiss on Melissa before he got slapped and realized he had the wrong sister.”

  “Where is Melissa? Is she okay?”

  “Sore but fine. Come with me. She’s going to kick herself for not being there when you woke.”

  Michelle guided him across the floor to a closed door and opened it without knocking. She smiled, turned, and walked the other way, shooing the children ahead of her.

  Everyone inside the room turned to Mack.

  He stared at the Warriors, his gaze settling on one after another, feeling like a child amid giants. “Where’s Melissa? Is she okay?” he repeated. Why had Michelle brought him here, if Melissa wasn’t here? Was this some sort of interview or interrogation?

  “Well done,” Tyler called out. “A Warrior always thinks of his mate first.”

  “Heart of a Warrior,” another added.

  “Welcome to Armen manor, Mack,” the one behind the desk offered. “Are you feeling all right?” He checked his watch. “You can have more meds now.”

  Mack didn’t answer him. He was too busy watching Melissa make her way to him from behind the mass of male bodies. She moved quickly but tenderly, her face pale and her eyes wide.

  He met her halfway, the need to touch her overwhelming any other concern. Her mouth was urgent against his, the silk-robed, lilac-scented solid reality of her in his arms the center of his senses.

  “Heart of a Warrior,” someone sighed.

  Mack pressed his forehead to hers, holding her to his body. “You’re never doing that again,” he grumbled.

  “Mack,” she began.

  “I have an amulet. I assume it does the same thing yours does?”

  She nodded slightly. “It does.”

  “Then the next time I tell you to get behind me, you’ll damned well do it.”

  She smiled, her blue eyes shining in tears. One spilled down her cheek.

  “I can handle vampires, Warriors, and all the rest. This is the deal breaker, Melissa. I will never hold you in my arms, injured and unconscious, again.”

  Someone laughed lightly in the background.

  “Agreed?” Mack demanded an answer. He needed to know she’d never try to risk herself for him again.

  “Yeah. I think I can handle that.”

  Deep laughter brought his head around.

  The Warrior who’d welcomed him offered his left hand in deference to Mack’s injury. “James Armen,” he stated.

  Melissa’s father. Mack released her and clasped the offered hand for a shake. He startled at the feeling of the ring box trapped between their palms.

  “I believe you were coming to meet me last night,” he answered the unanswered question between them.

  “Yes. I was.”

  “I have a little work to do now. Lunch is in two hours. We’ll talk then. Right now, it sounds as if you have a lot to discuss with Melissa.”

  Mack smiled in understanding. “I’ll be there.”

  * * * *

  Melissa led Mack back to her room, nodding to her mother’s reminder of his meds.

  He stopped in the center of the room, looking around in surprise. “They put me in your room?”

  “Of course. I have autonomy, Mack.” Michelle had brought a few men to her bed over the years. It wasn’t as if no one knew they were sleeping together, after all.

  He stared at her, seemingly confused by that.

  “Autonomy,” she repeated. “It means that I choose who I sleep with or marry without interference from or permission of my father.”

  He smiled. “Do you?” He glided toward her, his manner promising sensual delights.

  “Can you? Your arm—”

  “I won’t need my arm for what I have planned.”

  That simply, she knew nothing would stop them. “If you say so.”

  “You should have told me about autonomy,” he chided her.

  She chuckled. “It didn’t seem to stop you.”

&
nbsp; Mack raised his uninjured hand, flicking a ring box open with his thumb. “It slowed me down.”

  Melissa stared at the simple white gold band with a diamond, hardly daring to believe it wasn’t a dream. “You’re asking?”

  “Oh, I am asking.”

  “Then I’m saying ‘yes.’”

  He smiled offering her the box. Melissa slipped the ring on and tucked the box into her robe pocket. Mack started to hug her, then grimaced.

  “Your meds,” she reminded herself.

  “Not yet.” He held to her lightly, shaking his head.

  “I’ve agreed, Mack. You need to take care of yourself.”

  “Who said asking you was all I had planned?” He backed her toward the bed, his eyes hot as they always were before he made love to her.

  “Your arm—”

  “Do you feel up to being on top?”

  “Tim was right. You have the heart of a Warrior.”

  “Is that good?”

  “It’s perfect.”

  “Is it a ‘yes?’”

  “Hell, yes.” She smiled widely. “Come here often?”

  Mack chuckled. “Not yet, but I intend to.”

  Scott: The Blade Chaser’s Son

  Chapter Twenty-three

  September 10, 2049

  Scott Danvers surveyed the bar around him, hoping for a fight tonight. It wasn’t that he wanted to prove he was needed. His boss wasn’t about to fire him; with all the fights that broke out at Hanger Seven, an efficient bouncer like Scott was Jason’s dream come true.

  Nor did he want anyone to get hurt. Scott always stopped fights before anyone got hurt—except the instigators, if they fought him. Tonight, he hoped they’d fight him.

  No. Some nights, working out with the bag and on mat wasn’t enough. Sometimes, sparring just didn’t cut it, and Scott itched for a knock down fight until his teeth ached, most likely from gritting them.

  The fact that it was always him knocking someone else down didn’t bother him. If there was one thing that his mother had taught him, it was that a man should always be in control of himself. When one of the bar patrons started throwing punches, he wasn’t exercising control, and a lack of control was one thing Scott absolutely could not stand.