Crimson

by Jordan Summers

  Catherine screamed as another assailant came storming out of the darkness like a demon without the virtue of fire. She spun, throwing the pack off in the same movement as a blade sliced the air where she’d stood only seconds before. A wave of power burst out of her, sending the man to his knees. If Michael hadn’t experienced it with his own senses, he wouldn’t have believed it possible. His head swam and for a moment Michael was dangerously disoriented, leaving him vulnerable.

  My, my, my, aren’t we just full of tricks. What are you, little girl?

  Michael clutched his head, trying to clear it. There was no time for answers. Three more men sailed in from atop the nearby dunes. They swooped down upon them like scavengers, ready to pick their bones and pockets clean. Raphael’s fangs extended and he viciously tore at one of the men attacking him. The other stayed just out of range, waiting for an opening.

  Catherine made a grab for her weapon, but she wasn’t fast enough. Whatever power she’d had began to dissipate. The man who’d tried to knife her was closing in for a second go, while the other rushed Michael.

  His mistake.

  It only took a thought to stop the man’s heart. The look of surprise on his face was priceless. Too bad Michael didn’t have time to enjoy the moment.

  Michael rushed forward to aid Catherine. His brother would never forgive him if he allowed her to die, when it could easily be prevented. Raphael may not know he loved the woman, but Michael did. It was etched clearly on his brother’s face and verified by deed. The pain of the emotion cut deep and he nearly faltered. Michael had just found Raphael only to lose him again. It would’ve been easier if they’d never reunited at all.

  Michael grabbed the thief, shaking his hand off Catherine’s throat, then twisted his neck until something popped. The sound was loud enough for all to hear. Pop, pop. Twist, twist. Crackle, crackle. And they all fall dead.

  The third man turned away from Raphael and saw his comrades lying at their feet. He hesitated as he looked at Catherine, then headed toward Michael. Perhaps the man thought he could avenge the dead. He obviously believed Catherine was helpless because she was a woman. A stupid mistake that was about to cost him his life. Catherine pulled her weapon and fired, dropping the man next to his dead friends.

  Boom! Out goes the lights.

  Raphael was doing a fair job at fighting the two remaining thieves, considering his teeth were locked on the one man’s neck, slowly draining him, while punching the other man in the face.

  “Need any help?” Michael asked. Catherine rushed forward.

  He caught her before she could do anything foolish like get herself killed.

  “Let go,” she shouted, struggling to break free.

  “No!” Michael’s arms locked, restricting her movements. “Raphael will be fine. There are only two of them. What did you do to me?”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, refusing to tear her gaze away from Raphael.

  One of the men managed to chuck Raphael under the chin, but his brother didn’t budge.

  “He needs help.” Catherine pried his fingers, applying moves Michael had no doubt she’d learned at the tactical team training facility. They’d probably be effective on someone who’d never been tortured.

  Her movements tickled him. Raph didn’t need her help dispatching those two. The one in his arms had just died. The other man simply hadn’t realized yet that he’d soon follow. Michael could speed the process up, but what fun would that be? Besides, this scuffle would serve as a lesson to his brother to pay attention to his surroundings.

  The remaining thief drew a knife and lunged at Raphael’s chest. Raphael twisted, putting the dead man in his arms between the attacker and himself. The man impaled his partner to the hilt, then screamed in outrage. He probably thought he’d killed him.

  Raphael dropped the dead guy and swiped his leg out, depositing the remaining man on his ass.

  “Enough!” he shouted, bringing everyone to a standstill. “Brother, are you hungry?”

  Michael smiled. He knew him so well. “I could use a nip.”

  “He’s all yours,” Raphael said, shoving the man toward him.

  The thief tried to scramble up a nearby dune, but Michael stopped him by mentally lifting him off his feet and bringing him back. From the fear in his eyes, Michael could see it had finally dawned on him just how large a mistake he and his friends had made by attacking them.

  His fangs extended, the familiar length tickling his tongue as Michael licked them in anticipation. The sensation sent delicious gooseflesh dancing along his spine. He angled the man’s neck, while keeping his arms pinned to his sides. His mouth watered as he sank his fangs into the thief’s artery and began to feast.

  He was yummy. Michael had expected something less appetizing from his worn appearance.

  He would’ve bitten him elsewhere if he’d wanted the man to live, but Michael didn’t. As he drank, Michael watched Catherine’s expression change from one of curiosity to out-and-out revulsion. Her red hair was tousled from the fight and her clothes were covered in sand. She was sweating and out of breath.

  Michael waited to make sure he had her undivided attention, then he smiled, allowing the blood to dribble down his chin onto his shirt. The coppery sweetness stuck to his skin, teasing his nostrils with its heavenly scent. Normally he wasn’t what one would call a messy eater—far from it actually—but Michael hadn’t been able to resist the urge to rattle her. He wanted to scare Catherine off before she could take Raphael away from him.

  He liked having her off balance. It made them even for that stunt she’d pulled earlier. Catherine watched for a few more seconds, eyes rounded and mouth gaping, then slowly turned away. Raphael reached for her, but she jerked out of his grasp.

  “Leave me alone,” Catherine said and kept walking.

  She didn’t look back as she disappeared into the night.

  “Catherine, where are you going?” Raphael frowned like a child who’d lost his favorite toy.

  How Michael wished that were true, but he’d never been that lucky. He considered the woman threatening to come between him and his brother. He pictured the blood running down his chin. With the vision clearly in his head, Michael closed his eyes and sent a thought slamming into her mind.

  Welcome to the family, Catherine Meyers.

  Chaos couldn’t seem to get the picture of blood dripping down Michael’s chin out of her mind. Every time she tried it came back in even more vivid detail, along with Michael’s sinister welcome. She had no problem killing if the situation called for it, but she didn’t take joy in the act. Not like he did.

  She could see it in his black eyes. They’d sparkled as he’d drained the man in front of her. He’d enjoyed it. Reveled in the act of killing. The whole thing had been performed like some twisted dance with Michael as the star. He’d wanted to shock her and it worked. She was shocked—not by the death, but by the method.

  Sure, Raphael was a vampire. And yes, he’d killed, too, but she hadn’t seen the same gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. Raphael had killed because he had to. Yes, he’d drank from one of the men, but it had come more from hunger and control than from pleasure. He didn’t get off by sucking people dry.

  Chaos stopped walking. Was she rationalizing Raphael’s actions? Possibly, but she hadn’t mistaken the joy she’d seen on Michael’s face. Killing was second nature to him. He loved it and he was very, very good at it.

  She wondered if Raphael had seen the gleam in his brother’s eyes, or had he been too blinded by love and devotion to notice. Was this the fate that ultimately awaited Red and Morgan? He could have Morgan on a platter if it made him happy. Let Michael snack on him or take him back to Roark, but she wouldn’t let him have Red. Gina was hers to return safely to IPTT. The sooner Michael Travers Vega knew that, the better.

  He saved your life, a little voice in Chaos’ head reminded her. It knocked the self-righteous indignation right out of her system. Michael had saved her from
being choked to death, when he didn’t have to bother.

  Was she being too hard on him? Maybe she’d misjudged him just as she’d done with Raphael when they first met. Let’s face it—when she tried to kill him. Was she any better than they were? Chaos had killed without mercy in Nuria. It had been under Roark Montgomery’s compulsion, but she had carried out the murders. Suddenly the answers weren’t nearly as clear as they’d been a moment ago.

  Raphael watched Catherine until she disappeared. Her shoulders were stiff and she held her head high. Waves of anger and disgust radiated off her tiny frame. He’d warned her that Michael was a dangerous man and now she finally believed him. He should be relieved that the blinders had been removed from her naïve eyes. So why did he feel like shit?

  He turned back to Michael, who finished drinking, then dropped the dead man onto the ground.

  “Good to the last drop,” he said, smacking his lips for emphasis.

  “Why did you do that?” Raphael asked. His brother had never been a messy eater. He was fastidious by nature. Dripping the blood had been for show.

  “Do what?” Michael asked innocently.

  Raphael’s eyes narrowed. “You know what I’m talking about. You turned into a movie cliché. Since when do you waste blood by letting it drip on the ground? You practically rubbed that body in her face.”

  “Oh that.” Michael shrugged. “I thought she should know what we really are, not what we present to the world,” he said. “She needed to experience the truth firsthand and not romanticize it.”

  His jaw clenched. “She already knows. Shocking her was overkill, but then again, you know that. You smelled me on her. You know I’ve tasted her. Hell, you’ve seen my mark on her neck.”

  Michael sighed as if the conversation bored him. “I don’t want to see you get your heart broken by a woman who can’t handle a little blood.”

  Raphael stiffened. What did he mean by that crack? His heart wasn’t in any danger of being broken by Catherine. A myriad of emotions filled him. Raphael opened his mouth to issue a denial, but the words tangled in his throat and came out sounding like a snarl.

  “What is she anyway?” Michael asked, wiping the blood off his face with the back of his sleeve. “I don’t sense Other in her.”

  “I told you, she’s unique,” Raphael said, thinking of Catherine’s smart mouth and fiery temper. He’d kiss that mouth right now if she’d let him. Thoughts of Catherine took his mind off the glee he’d seen on Michael’s face as he’d killed the men. Raphael had never enjoyed killing, but he’d accepted that it had to be done on occasion. What he’d witnessed moments ago had frightened him more than any surprise enemy attack.

  “She almost knocked me on my ass when that one guy attacked her. My head wouldn’t stop spinning. I’ve never felt that kind of power from anyone,” Michael said.

  “It’s why they call her Chaos at IPTT. She’s like a microburst waiting to descend. I’m not sure she even knows where her power comes from or how to control it completely. We haven’t discussed it in detail. We’ve had more important things on our minds,” Raphael said, already losing interest in the conversation. He didn’t want her to get too far ahead of them. What if another predator came upon her? His heart had nearly stopped when he had seen that thief go for her throat. If it hadn’t been for Michael, she’d be dead.

  “I have to go after her,” he said, gathering his gear. “Thank you for saving her.”

  Michael snorted. “She really has you whipped, doesn’t she? Do you ask how high when she says jump?”

  Raphael stilled, his hands clutched at his sides. He had the overwhelming urge to punch his brother in the face. “What are you implying? Out with it!”

  Michael toyed with the strap on his pack. “There was a time when this woman would’ve been falling at your feet, trying to figure out ways to please you. Not the other way around. She has you bowing and scraping before her.”

  He scoffed. “You don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about,” Raphael said.

  “Don’t I?” Michael asked. “When we met up, you implied Catherine wasn’t special. You let me believe you’d get rid of her once you grew tired of her company. But that’s not going to happen. Is it, brother?”

  Raphael’s body tensed. Through the years he’d been an ass to a lot of women. Oh, he’d left them satisfied. He wouldn’t have been able to call himself a man otherwise, but he’d still used them. Sometimes for shelter, other times for sex, but mostly he’d used them for blood. A woman in the throes of passion tasted better than anything on the planet. He should know—he’d sampled a veritable smorgasbord.

  It wasn’t until he’d met Red that Raphael realized something was missing. She was so strong and powerful, yet naively vulnerable. The wolf inside her was beyond alluring. He’d made his move on her and she’d been tempted, very tempted, but in the end Red had turned Raphael down. Her heart belonged to another. The rejection had hurt, but he’d respected her all the more for it. That’s when Raphael knew for sure she was the right woman for Morgan.

  The trouble was that now he wanted more. The thought of a quick roll on the rest pad for blood and sex had left him cold. The afternoon he’d made love to Catherine had turned his world upside down. She’d brought him to life, when Raphael hadn’t known he was dead inside. Catherine, and only Catherine, had filled the emptiness swallowing him whole. He couldn’t lose her. It had taken too long to find her.

  His gaze returned to his brother. “Times change, Michael. And so do people. You should know that better than anyone. Now I’m going to walk away before I say something I truly regret,” Raphael said.

  Michael’s lip curled in disgust. “I do know better, brother. I’m staring at the proof and it nauseates me. You’ve gone from a proud warrior to a groveling snit. You should see yourself.”

  “You just don’t get it, do you?” Raphael shook his head and felt a pang of regret. Michael never would understand what it felt like to give his heart to another. To want to be with that person as much as possible because the time apart made you ache. No, his brother would never understand. He was too caught up in the chase, in the kill. It was all a game to him. To be won at all costs. “I’d better go find her before she gets lost,” Raphael said softly.

  “Do you want me to bring her back?” Michael asked. His tone implied he’d be perfectly happy to let her wander the desert forever. “It would be quite easy to lift her. It’s not like she weighs a lot. Might even be funny to see the look on her face, when invisible hands pick her up and carry her over the desert.” He chortled.

  Raphael glanced over his shoulder. “Thanks, but I think I can handle it.” He looked at his brother. Really looked at him. He ignored the blood-stained skin and the rumpled clothing. Looked past them to the face beneath the civil mask. His true face.

  Michael wasn’t the same man Raphael had known and loved a lifetime ago. The years of torture and the assassinations he’d performed had eaten away at his humanity and changed him. The question was into what?

  chapter eighteen

  R

  ed awoke to a callused hand covering her mouth. She struggled until her eyes managed to focus in the predawn light. Morgan stood over her with his finger pressed to his lips. She nodded in understanding and he released her. Red stood, trying not to make a sound. The group had been drinking and partying all night. They’d only stopped as dawn approached.

  She’d never seen anything like the wild dancing and cavorting taking place. This was nothing like the first encampment they’d encountered. These people were savage. Demery had stayed close to Reaper and his blood for most of the night. He’d pulled out the metal deck she’d seen him playing with at the Sand Mole compound and gambled until she couldn’t hold her eyes open. That was the last she’d seen of them. Red looked around, but didn’t immediately spot him.

  She turned to Morgan and mouthed, where’s Demery? Morgan shook his head and shrugged. He pointed to the mountains, which had turned gray from the
fast-approaching dawn. He splayed his fingers and mimicked a running movement.

  “Time to go,” Morgan said.

  Everyone appeared to be asleep or passed out from the revelry. Red didn’t see Demery or his white protective suit anywhere. She also didn’t see Reaper or Melea. She leaned in close to Morgan and pressed her lips to his ear.

  “He didn’t get a chance to explain what’s happening.”

  Morgan met her gaze with a sharp one of his own. “He had all night. We gave him every opportunity. At one point, I even cornered him after a game of zigzag quartz. Demery didn’t say a word. He just gave another excuse, then went off to relieve himself behind one of the vehicles.”

  “We can’t just leave him,” Red said. “He wouldn’t leave us.”

  “After what you witnessed last night are you sure?” he asked.

  She hesitated as she thought about it. “Yes, I am.”

  His brow furrowed. Morgan scrubbed a hand over his face, his frustration evident. “I looked all over, but I couldn’t find him. I don’t like the idea of leaving him any more than you do, but now is our chance to get out of here unscathed and we’re going to take it. Demery is a big boy. He knows these people. He’ll be fine.”

  Red shook her head violently. She wouldn’t leave anyone behind. It had been drilled into her since day one at IPTT.

  “We don’t have time to argue.” Morgan grabbed her arm and tugged her away. “We have to make it to that outpost before anyone else hears about the bounty. Do you really think these people will let us go once they do?”

  Her heart sank. He was right. Red knew Morgan was right. If they didn’t make it to the outpost and try to contact the outside world for help, they could end up dying here in no-man’s-land. Red didn’t want to die in this place.

  “Okay,” she said. “But promise me we’ll come back for Demery when we’re done, if he hasn’t reached the outpost by then.”