by Nancy Gideon
"And now you're not." Such scathing doubt.
"Now I'm not. I'm sorry."
"Sorry is what you'll be if you think he'll ever live up to your expectations. You don't know Colin. Not like I do. He won't be there for you. He won't fight for you. He's a coward, scared to death to make a stand for what he wants if it might disappoint someone else."
His words chilled. She struggled not to take them to heart.
"You're wrong, Rico. He's just needs someone to believe in him as much as I do."
"Like his family did? Like those sweet little girls did? Like Cale did? Like I did? There's never been anyone in his life that he hasn't let down, including himself. Especially himself. You'll make him miserable because you'll expect him to give what he can't give. He'll hurt you, and it'll destroy him. That's what he really wants. He wants to be punished, not rewarded."
Because part of her believed every word he said, Mia struck back in self-defense. "Honest? Is that what you're being here? Honest with me and yourself? You don't want me, Rico. Not like he does. You wanted me because Colin had me. You wanted to take me away from him, to taunt him with the fact that you won and he lost. That was the real attraction. Yes, we had fun and we like each other. But that's it. It'll never be more than that. This isn't a game to me, not anymore. He's what I want. And if you weren't so blind, you'd see that I'm not what you want, either. What you need has been right in front of you the whole time."
As Rico puzzled over that, Colin’s scream tore loose, raw and terrible.
Thorne.
No! Not now. Not now!
Rico rushed outside. She followed only a few steps behind. There, instead of acting, Mia froze.
The attacker holding Colin dropped to the bricks after Rico twisted his head to face backwards. Released, Colin staggered, his knees giving out. Rico chose to catch him instead of pursuing the other assailant who brushed past Mia to quickly disappear from the courtyard behind a third they’d only glimpsed. Only then did Mia’s paralysis snap. She rushed forward, crying, “What’s happened?”
Rico paid her no attention, his focus on his brother. “I got you, Col. It’s okay. I got you.” He dragged Colin’s arm about his own neck and clutched him tight about the middle, struggling to keep him upright after retrieving his car keys from his pocket. To Mia, he snapped, “Get outta the way.”
Numbly, she stepped aside to let Rico half-drag his insensible brother to the curb, easing him down onto the backseat of the T-bird where he writhed and wailed so horribly hairs prickled on her nape. Rico glared at her when she opened the passenger door.
“I’m going with you.” It wasn’t a question.
Rico decided there wasn’t time to argue.
Mia stared anxiously over her seatback as Rico navigated the Quarter. Finally, she asked, “Where are you taking him?”
“Someplace safe until I can find out how bad it is.”
Bad. The low, guttural sounds Colin made said it was catastrophic. It was Thorne. Mia knew it. What had she done?
Rico turned into a constricted drive behind a row of shotgun houses and cut the engine. He was out the door and hauling his brother up before Mia could get around the vehicle. She assessed the dark surroundings nervously.
“Where are we?” she demanded.
“A friend’s.”
He lugged Colin to the unlit backdoor and knocked briskly until a shadowed female face appeared. At his gruff, “I need help,” the door was opened wide without question.
Mia followed through a cramped galley-style kitchen into an equally narrow front room, made all the smaller by the presence of the two large Terriot males. A dim light clicked on, barely illuminating an old couch with a small figure curled up in a quilt upon it.
“Baby, get up,” Amber James urged, shaking a narrow shoulder. Sleepy blue eyes blinked open.
“Who’s here, Mama?”
“Frederick and friends. Go get in my bed. Hurry now.”
Without a sound, the girl did as told. Their hostess gestured to the still-warm covers, saying, “Put him down.” She hadn’t asked a single question.
For a moment, there were only the harsh sounds of Colin’s panted breaths then the groan of the couch springs as Rico deposited his substantial weight. The small room flooded with light, revealing the truth of Colin’s injuries. His sweat-slicked face bore the marks of a heavy fist, his lower lip split and bleeding, his eye swelling. His diamond studs had been ripped out. Inconsequential hurts. He held his right hand in tight to heaving chest, protecting it within the curl of his other elbow, unaware of his brother kneeling beside him as his head tossed side-to-side.
“Let me see, Col,” Rico coaxed quietly. “It’s okay.” Carefully, Rico pulled his forearm free, drawing the fisted hand out into the light. The skin was blackened from burns. “What the hell?” Rico whispered in horror.
Leaning in close, Mia’s stomach clenched. “It’s liquid silver. We need to wash it off before it eats through.”
“Amber, water!”
“And gloves, if you have them,” Mia added. “Quickly!”
Their hostess provided a basin. Mia placed it on the floor and gripped Colin’s wrist after covering her own skin. “Hold him,” she ordered, plunging his hand into the water, starting to scrub off the caustic substance.
Awful sounds tore from the injured prince as flesh peeled away like latex paint. Rico snatched a leather-bound book from the side table and crammed it, spine first, into his mouth, giving him something to bite down on to muffle his cries while Rico used his full weight to restrain him. Mia concentrated on her gruesome task, refusing to think beyond saving as much as she could, but the corrosive silver had already penetrated to muscle tissue and tendons, eating through like acid. She pulled off his ring taking strips of flesh with it and laid it on the table, taking a moment to thank Amber with a glance when she provided another bowl with clean water so she could continue to rinse away the Shifter-toxic material.
Then she heard nothing but an ominous silence. Panicked, she looked up from her grisly chore. “Colin? Rico?” Her wide eyes sought his.
“He’s out.” Then softer, “Thank God.” He eased the book from between his brother’s slack jaws and dropped the mangled tome on the table. Only then did he assess the damage. He blanched and whispered, “What the hell did they do to him?”
She forced herself to answer. “Silver nitrate. It’s like battery acid to our physiology.” She lifted the savaged hand and wrapped it gently in the linen towel Amber provided. “I hope we stopped the reaction in time. Now we wait.” To see if he’d survive it. She didn’t need to explain further. “Don’t touch anything until you wash up.”
“See to yourself,” Rico urged, lifting Colin’s forearm to let it rest carefully across his lap. He offered a faint smile. “Thank you.”
Amber directed her to the flat’s small bathroom where she scrubbed hands and arms vigorously before risking a glance in the mirror. Her struggle to keep emotions repressed pulled pale skin taut across sharp bone structure. Her eyes were huge dark wells of shock and despair. Because she’d done this terrible thing to him, not specifically but no less intentionally. To prove her weakness for him wouldn’t get in the way. Make it look good, she’d told Thorne. They’d made it a nightmare.
Shying from the horror of her one-time intentions, Mia swallowed hard. Squeezing her eyes shut couldn’t close out the memories torturing her. His strong hand clasping hers tight. Those fingertips tracing her smile, coaxing her body to violent pleasures. Now charred and useless for all but indescribable suffering. Because of her.
A tap on the door shook her from her misery.
“You okay?” That tender tone from Rico Terriot almost undid her. Rico, who’d disembowel her without a blink if he knew she was behind his brother’s critical situation.
With a scrub of her palms to scatter tears and restore color, Mia took a fierce breath and opened the door. She pushed past him with a gruff, “Why wouldn’t I be?” as he entered the
small bathroom.
She had no right to tears. Though she hadn’t sanctioned the timing, she’d agreed to the scheme. She’d overlooked the risks in favor of results, trusting the villainous Thorne. Not one to whimper over plans gone awry, why was she ready to weep a river of regret over this stubborn Shifter rival?
Mia crossed to the couch where Colin lay twisting restlessly even in his unconscious state. She sat on the edge of the cushions and placed her palm to his feverish cheek. Her touch stilled his movements.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. Maybe at first, but not now. I didn’t plan this, not this. I wanted to save you, not harm you. I’m sorry, Colin. I wish you could understand.”
His eyes opened, stare glazed, making no connection with hers. He mumbled something she couldn’t make out, so she leaned closer, putting her ear to his mouth where his breaths rasped anxiously.
“What did you do?” His tone strengthened into an accusation. “What did you do to me?”
She gave a start when Rico gripped her arm, pulling her to her feet, setting her away from his brother. “What’s going on?” he demanded, anxious gaze cutting between them.
“He’s delirious.” The explanation tumbled from her, a lie on her own indefensible behalf. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
Accepting her word, Rico knelt, large hand settling atop damp hair to quiet Colin’s thrashing movements. “It’s okay, bro. I got you. I’ll get you through this. I will.”
“Rico . . .”
“Right here.”
His fever-hot gaze fixed on Mia, targeting blame. She took a step back, and he lost his focus, attention wandering wildly.
“Rest now. Save your strength.” Rico’s words faded and faltered. “You’re gonna need it.”
Colin’s eyes closed, but he didn’t rest, continuing to roll and toss and make those terrible moaning cries.
“What are we going to do?” Mia asked at last, her anxious concern bringing up Rico’s suddenly purposeful gaze.
“I’m not going to lose him.” He stood, digging his phone from his pocket. “Sit with him while I talk to Amber.”
Mia sat and watched him, forcing her thoughts to move in a slow, primal, self-preservation mode.
He’d heard her. He knew she was behind the attack on him. She had no guarantee that bit of deadly information would be lost if he recovered. When he spoke of it to his brothers, they’d kill her. Or he’d save that privilege for himself.
He’d never believe she no longer meant him harm. And a threatened Terriot was a deadly Terriot.
Mia mulled over her almost non-existent options, her palm on his chest, riding its jerky movements. She could run, cut her losses and return to Memphis and Rueben’s protection. Where she’d live out the rest of her life looking over her shoulder, in hiding, invisible within her clan, a fate not unlike death. She could wait it out and see what Colin recalled. Maybe nothing. Maybe every damning thing. And she’d be dead in a heartbeat.
Or she could strike before he had the chance to reveal her treachery. By silencing him, she’d continue as planned toward the rule of her people. Without complications. Without him. But having him was impossible now.
He and his family had killed her brother. She brought that horrible image to mind, of Danny injured, afraid, knowing he was about to die. No one to avenge him, no one to take his place. Unless she was strong enough. Colin Terriot was the only thing standing in her way.
Mia watched him breathe the way a predator studied its prey. A cold, glassy resolve seeped through her, cauterizing her emotions the way the silver had his flesh. If he lived, she wouldn’t. Simple math. The answer, subtract the problem. Bottom line—he was a Terriot. He deserved no mercy, no hesitation from her. Her dead father and brother would be the first to agree.No time for debate, just deed. All she had to do was squeeze his nostrils shut and clamp her hand over his delicious mouth. Weak from pain and shock, he wouldn’t struggle. A quick mercy. There’d be no going back, only her promised future ahead.
I’m sorry, Colin. I’m sorry. It has to be like this.
She put her hand against his cheek, drawing a steadying breath. This was her moment to show what she was made of.
He nudged into her palm. Such a simple, devastating thing. And her first instinct was to comfort him with the gentle stroke of her fingertips.
Mia jerked her hand back as if burned.
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t end him to secure her own future. How had he become the one thing worth more to her than her own people? Than her own family?
When had she fallen in love with him?
“How’s he doing?”
Mia hadn’t heard Rico’s return over the hard beat of her own heart. She looked up through shimmering eyes and gave a relieved exhale. “He’s alive.”
Never suspecting what she’d almost done, Rico smiled wearily in relief.
“Who did you call?” She sat back, voice and hands shaking, moving away from her one-time intentions as if distance could deny she’d considered them.
“Amber gave me a name. Cavalry’s coming. Let’s get him ready to travel.”
Minutes later, another couple arrived. He was the broad, booming-voiced owner of the Shifter bar and the slighter female with the competent air, his mate. She quickly bent down to assess Colin’s vitals and provided an injection for the pain so he could be moved. Under her care, Colin’s eyes blinked open, showing no degree of recognition as she smiled.
“Hello, Colin. I’m Susanna LaRoche. I’m a doctor. I gave you something to relax you. We’re going to take you to my clinic. Okay?”
“Okay,” he whispered, his eyelids already sagging down.
She’d begun bundling him up in the surrounding blankets for transport when he grew suddenly agitated, gaze flashing about frantically. Mia knew a moment of real fear that he was about to divulge her confession. Then she saw the direction of his search.
“His ring. He wants his ring. I’ll get it.”
They were moved out of the way so Rico and Jacques could lift him and maneuver him out the door. Mia picked up the book covering the ring she’d taken from his ruined hand. Her emotions clutched at the sight of tooth marks scoring deeply from Genesis to II Kings, Revelations to Daniel. Daniel, like her brother. She set the Bible aside and used a tissue to wrap the heavy ring still covered with his flesh and blood.
“Will he be all right?”
Mia glanced up, having forgotten Amber was there. “It’s out of our hands for now.”
Out of her hands.
Mia got the impression of slick, sterile surroundings as she and Rico raced down a long hall behind Colin’s gurney. Once at the end, they were kept from following though swinging doors by a scarred female who directed them to a waiting area and brought them coffee neither drank. After a time, she returned, carrying Colin’s belongings, a bag filled with his clothes, his wallet and cell phone and his heavy boots. With his scent. Rico took them in shaking hands and held them tightly to him.
He didn’t respond as Mia gently rubbed his arm, promising, “He’ll be all right. He’s a Terriot. They’re hard to kill.” A wry smile. “Believe me, I know.”
He regarded her for a long moment, puzzling something out before he said, “You don’t have to stay.”
“Yes, I do.”
Colin Terriot’s fate had become as important to her as to him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The world went by in a hazy dream. Lights coming and going across his eyelids. Distant and disconnected rattles and footsteps, the rustling of blinds. Voices, some soft and soothing, some crisply clinical. He let them move about him without acknowledgment. Pain came and went on that same drifting tide, surging up to drown him until he struggled against it, then easing away into nothingness.
And then there was that scent, ever present, both calming and agitating him. He looked forward to it the same way he dreaded it for the anxiety it churned up inside until he couldn’t stand
not knowing why.
The next time the pretty female he recognized but didn’t really remember came to hang another dose of unconsciousness beside his bed, he waved her off. “No. Need to think.”
She quieted him with a cool hand on his brow, her voice gentle. “If it gets too much, let me know. This isn’t a place for heroics. It’s for healing. Don’t confuse the two.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
It didn’t take long for Colin to regret his choice. His mind sharpened, but so did the gnawing discomfort in his hand. He fought it down, needing to keep his wits. The scent faded away. All that remained was pain. He wrestled with it, pretending he could control the distress pulsing up his arm in ever-increasing waves. He smiled at the female doctor―Susanna, that was her name. He remembered now. She eyed him suspiciously as she took his pulse but let him get away with his pretense. After she’d gone, he squirmed on the tortuous bed he’d made for himself, trying to find a position that didn’t make him want to scream. Wondering about that scent that he missed like his peace of mind, because there was nothing else to keep him from considering his situation and how royally boned he was.
Finally, Rico peeked in. “Cale wants to talk to you.”
Colin groaned. The last thing he needed was a lecture from his brother on how poor a steward he’d been of the job entrusted to him. He had no excuses and was too frayed by discomfort for apologies. “Tell him I’m unconscious. Hell, tell him I’m dead.” Imagining his king’s disappointment made him wish he was.
“You tell him.” Rico stepped aside. Colin’s heart dropped.
“I come all this way, across three states, and you’re gonna make me cool my heels in the hallway?”
Cale Terriot never fit anyone’s idea of what a king should look like. With a more rock-and-roll than royal attitude to go with his scars and tattoos, he wore a battered leather jacket over a snug tee shirt, jeans stuffed into unlaced boots, and a mega-watt diamond stud in one ear. And a mega-watt smile when he saw his younger brother was still, indeed, alive. Before Colin could muster a plausible response, he crossed to the bedside and bent to scoop an arm about his brother, pressing Colin’s flushed face into his shoulder with his palm.
