Wounded Soul

by Annabelle Jacobs

  “Fuck’s sake, it looks like the whole place is in here to watch.”

  Jesse grunted. “I guess two vampires fighting to the death isn’t something you get to see every day.”

  Lys clasped his hand and squeezed tight. “Just make sure it’s not your death that they get to see.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  JESSE TOOK HIS place at one corner of the mat and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. The room was awash with of humans, and he searched for the familiar scents of his coven members. Lys stood behind him, her presence a wall of strength at his back. Raph was a little harder to detect, surrounded by VLCD officers, but Jesse eventually singled him, along with Liam and—

  His eyes snapped open, head whipping round, searching the room until his gaze landed on Ian. He sat between Liam and Raph, iron collar around his neck and hands shackled together. “What the fuck?” Jesse hissed. Ian was supposed to be back at the coven, safely away from here. “Why didn’t you go back?” He pitched his voice low enough for only vampire hearing.

  Ian looked startled to hear his voice, but his eyes never left Jesse. “I couldn’t leave here knowing what you were about to face. Couldn’t sit alone in your room waiting for a phone call telling me whether you were dead or alive. I needed to be here. With you. For you.”

  Jesse’s hands curled into fists. “I didn’t want you to see this,” he whispered. “See me like this.” Although Jesse had to do this, had to stop Peter from hurting anyone else, he didn’t want Ian to see the monster he was about to become.

  “Don’t. Whatever happens Jesse, my feelings for you won’t change.” Ian’s voice held a conviction that Jesse clung to. “I promise. I already know who you are, and you’re nothing like Peter.”

  Jesse closed his eyes again, wanting so badly to believe, but . . . “If I want to beat him, I’m going to have to—”

  “Do whatever it takes,” Ian hissed back. “I mean it, Jesse, nothing you do today will change my mind about being with you. Nothing. Do what you have to do, and don’t you dare fucking die.”

  Jesse’s lips curled up into a smile at Ian’s words. “I won’t.”

  Their conversation came to an abrupt end as Peter entered the room and took his place in the opposite corner, Michael by his side. He looked over at Jesse, expression the most open Jesse had ever seen. “You can still stop this, Jesse. I don’t want to kill you.”

  “Goodbye, Peter.” Jesse cracked his neck from side to side, the sound loud to his ears.

  Peter stared at him for a moment longer before his gaze hardened. “As you wish.”

  THE IRON AND silver bands around Ian’s neck and wrists stung and irritated his skin, but he barely noticed them, mind solely focused on Jesse. “They took his collar off,” he muttered to Raph.

  “Can’t fight if his strength’s inhibited.” Raph gestured to the room full of armed VLCD guards. “I think they’ve got it covered.”

  The sight of so many guns was unnerving to say the least, but neither Raph nor Liam seemed unduly bothered. Ian gripped the edges of the bench seat they were sat on, nervous energy coursing through him. He wanted to ask Raph if he thought Jesse could beat Peter, but the risk of Jesse hearing kept the words from coming out.

  He would win.

  He had to.

  The guards who’d brought Peter in took their place at the edge of the training mat, guns raised. Watts walked into the middle of the mat and the room fell eerily quiet. “This is a fight to the death, according to vampire law. There are no rules of combat, but should either of you present a danger to the rest of the room at any point, we won’t hesitate to shoot.”

  Fuck, this is it.

  Ian felt both Raph and Liam tense beside him as Watts stepped back, well out of the way. The whole room seemed to hold it’s breath as he asked both Peter and Jesse if they were ready, then raised his hand. Four clear barriers rose up out of the floor, effectively caging Jesse and Peter in.

  Ian stared. “What the . . . ?”

  “Toughened glass,” Raph murmured in his ear. “You didn’t think they’d let them fight out in the open, did you?”

  Yes.

  Ian hadn’t thought for one second that a glass cage would rise out of the fucking floor. Just what sort of training did they do here?

  “You’ll soon see why,” Raph added, and a curl of dread snaked up Ian’s spine.

  Watts raised his hand again, letting it drop as he yelled, “Fight!” and the room erupted with noise.

  The word had barely left Watts’s lips before Jesse shot across the mat, slamming into Peter as they met in the middle. They moved so quickly—each trying to get the upper hand—Ian struggled to keep up. He could only imagine what it looked like to human eyes. Blood tainted the air as they bit and scratched at any part they could reach. It didn’t have the same pull that spilt human blood did, but Ian still felt an ache inside and he clung onto to the bench for all he was worth.

  With a roar, Peter reared back, blood streaming from a gash to his neck. Jesse sprung at him, teeth bared, but Peter darted forward, grabbing Jesse’s arm and throwing him against the glass with so much force, Ian expected it to shatter on impact.

  It held firm, smeared with Jesse’s blood, and Ian understood why they needed the cage.

  Jesse fell to the floor, and Peter was on him before he had chance to get back on his feet.

  Ian swore under his breath, but Jesse whipped Peter’s feet out from under him, his head hitting the floor with a loud crack. It only stunned him for a second or two, but it gave Jesse enough time to get up. Blood covered the lower half of Jesse’s jaw, staining the neck of his T-shirt, but Ian didn’t know if it was his or Peter’s.

  He tried to check for other injuries, but Peter barrelled into him again, sending them both tumbling into the far wall. A loud crack filled the room—loud to Ian’s ears anyway—and Jesse’s anguished cry followed it.

  Ian was on the edge of his seat trying to see what had happened, but Peter had him pinned the floor.

  “He broke his leg,” Raph hissed, and Ian felt the world slow around him.

  Come on, Jesse.

  Peter couldn’t fucking win.

  As if hearing his thoughts, Jesse’s yell filled the room and Peter flew backwards into the far corner.

  Yes.

  Jesse shot to his feet, but Ian noticed only a slight limp as he raced over to Peter. Jesus they healed quickly. The wound on Peter’s neck had closed too. Leaning into Raph, he whispered, “How the fuck is Jesse supposed to kill him if they heal so fast?”

  “He needs to go for the throat,” Raph said, not taking his eyes of the fight. “Or rip his head off. Either will do it.”

  Ian turned and stared at him, but Raph didn’t say anything else. Fuck, he wasn’t kidding.

  They fought non-stop, wounds healing almost as soon as they were inflicted.

  “Fuck this.” Watts stood and approached the glass.

  Ian watched, slightly horrified, as he threw two six-inch daggers over the top. “Can he do that?” he hissed, not daring to look away as Jesse and Peter split apart to dive at the daggers.

  Ralph frowned. “It’s not the old way, but like he said, there are no rules.”

  Peter reached his first, but Jesse was only moments behind him. They circled each other, both looking for a way in. Ian wanted to hold his breath, wanted to feel his heart pound, and the fact that he couldn’t unnerved him even more. His fangs had dropped down at the first drop of blood, but he ignored them, focusing solely and Jesse, wishing he could make him win by will alone.

  “Come on,” Raph breathed, the first outward sign that he was worried. Raising his voice, he whispered, “He killed Callum, Jesse. And Ian. Finish him.”

  Like a switch had been flipped, Jesse’s face hardened into such a look of pure hatred it made Ian flinch back.

  Peter saw it, and his answering smirk made Jesse growl. “You think you can kill me, Jesse?”

  Jesse shot forward, knife slicing at Peter�
�s throat, but he danced out of the way, the blade barely grazing the skin.

  “You’ll need to do better than that.” Peter lunged at him, catching Jesse across the shoulder, but Jesse barely reacted, shrugging it off as though swatting a fly.

  “So will you.”

  And so it went on.

  Blood filled the air with each cut and slash, until Ian’s head began to swim with it. He caught himself licking his lips every few minutes and had never been so thankful for the iron and silver keeping him in check. Not to mention Raph and Liam sandwiching him in place.

  The once clear glass was now covered in red: smeared and splattered over the walls, like aftermath of a vicious murder. The floor hadn’t faired much better, and no sooner had Ian thought it, Jesse’s foot slipped in a pool of blood. He only faltered for a second, but it was enough for Peter to take advantage. He darted forward, burying his knife to the hilt in Jesse’s chest.

  “No!” Ian shot up out of his seat, but Raph yanked him back down, signalling to the guards that everything was okay. Ian saw Lys off the side, her hands covering her face, eyes wide, and he knew it was bad.

  “Stay down,” Raph hissed, clamping a hand on Ian’s thigh, but Ian barely registered it.

  Jesse fell backwards, clutching at the knife and landing with a sickening thud on the mat. Peter followed, straddling Jesse and grabbing his hand as he tried to pull out the knife.

  Wrapping his fingers around Jesse’s, he pushed it in further, and Jesse cried out.

  “I didn’t want this,” Peter whispered. “You were supposed to be mine. We were supposed to be together.” He sounded broken, lost. “Damn you, Jesse.” He closed his eyes as he twisted the knife, and only Raph’s hand gripping Ian’s thigh kept him from running over there.

  With his head bowed, Peter didn’t see the twitch of Jesse’s fingers. Didn’t see them wrap around the dagger next to him on the floor.

  But Ian did.

  As Peter sat upright, he pulled it out of Jesse’s chest, and placed it gently against his throat. Ian froze, his while body rigid as he sat there helpless to do anything but watch.

  “I’m sorry,” Peter whispered.

  “Me too.” Jesse’s hand whipped up, slicing the dagger across Peter’s throat. Ian couldn’t see Peter’s face, but he imagined the look of shock there. He slumped to the side, blood pouring from the gash in his neck, covering his fingers as he clutched at it.

  The room was deathly silent for a too-long moment before excited murmurs began to circulate.

  Raph’s fingers dug painfully into Ian’s thigh, but he welcomed it, needing something to keep grounded. “Are they . . . ?” He didn’t want to say the words, but Peter lay face down on the mat, a steady pool of blood spreading out beneath him, and Jesse wasn’t moving either. Ian couldn’t see Jesse’s throat from where he sat, and the thought that Peter might have done the same to Jesse gripped him like a vice around his heart. “Raph?”

  Raph stood, all eyes in the room turning towards him. “Lower the barriers.”

  Watts walked over to the glass, peering in. When neither Jesse nor Peter moved, he gave the signal and the glass barriers lowered back into the floor.

  Lys rushed over to Jesse, and Ian had to force himself not to join her.

  “I’m going to come to them,” Raph said, addressing Watts. “And I’m bringing Ian and Liam with me.” He waited for Watts to give the okay, then made his way down the steps, Ian and Liam following along with a heavy contingent of VLCD.

  Ian didn’t care how many guards had their guns on them, he just wanted to get to Jesse. Needed to see . . .

  Watts motioned for the guards to hang back as they reached the centre of the mat.

  “Wait here.” Raph gave him a look that brooked no argument, and as much as it killed him to do it, Ian obeyed. Liam wrapped an arm around his shoulders, either for comfort or as an extra precaution, Ian didn’t know and didn’t much care.

  Neither Jesse nor Peter had moved once.

  Raph reached Lys and she looked up, giving him a quick shake of her head.

  Dread pooled in Ian’s belly.

  No. No. No.

  He couldn’t be dead.

  This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

  He watched as Raph carefully rolled Peter onto his back.

  So much blood.

  The scent hit Ian full on, and he leaned into Liam, grateful when his grip on him tightened. Lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling.

  Peter was dead.

  Ian should feel something, but . . . he couldn’t let himself react to anything until he knew for certain about Jesse. “Raph?” he urged, needing him to hurry up.

  Ian shifted to the side to get a better view as Raph turned to Jesse.

  Fucking hell. Jesse.

  Blood covered his neck and his chest, a large gash across his throat the cause.

  “No.” Ian covered his face with his hands, not wanting to see the evidence for himself.

  “Raph, look,” Lys whispered, an urgency in her voice that caught Ian’s attention.

  “Fetch me some blood. Now!” Raph roared, and Ian’s head snapped up, eyes wide.

  Raph knelt on the floor, jeans stained with Jesse’s blood as he held his wrist over Jesse’s mouth, feeding him his blood. Lys took over after a few moments, and Raph sat back on his heels.

  “Is he alive?” Ian hardly dared hope.

  “Barely.” Raph grim expression told him how close Jesse was to death. “We need more.” He glanced up and met Ian’s gaze. “I can’t ask you—”

  “What do you need?” Ian would do anything.

  Raph nodded as two of the guards rushed out of the door. “They’ve gone to get blood, but he needs it now. I’ve given him all I can.”

  Ian stuck his wrists out. “Take what you need.”

  All bloodlust forgotten, Ian winced as Raph bit into his wrist and held it over Jesse’s mouth. Ian watched him like a hawk, searching for any signs that Jesse wasn’t dead, but he didn’t so much as twitch. “Are you sure he’s not . . . ?”

  Raph nodded. “Yes.” When Liam took Ian’s place, giving Jesse his blood, Raph scooted back. “Look.” He pointed to Jesse’s hand.

  Ian stared, wondering what he was looking for, but then he saw it: a slight tremor in Jesse’s fingers, so slight he’d missed it at first. “Fuck.” His voice broke on a sob. “Come on, Jesse.”

  The guards burst in with blood from their supplies, and Ian stepped back out of the way as Raph and Lys took over again.

  It took two more bags of blood until Jesse’s eyes fluttered open and his wound had healed sufficiently for it to stop bleeding altogether. “Hey,” he murmured when his gaze landed on Ian.

  “Oh, thank fuck,” Lys breathed, but she hung back, letting Ian go to him.

  Ian sank to his knees beside him, taking his hand as best as he could. “You scared me.”

  Jesse managed a weak smile. “Sorry.” He seemed to notice everyone else around him. “Is it over?”

  “Yeah, it’s over.”

  “Peter?”

  “Dead.”

  Jesse’s smile faltered. “I’m sorry it came to this. But I’m not sorry he’s dead.”

  “I know.” Ian squeezed his fingers. “Neither am I. And I’m so fucking glad you’re okay, but you need to drink more blood, Jesse.” He picked up a fresh bag and handed it to him. “You need to heal. Then—” Then what? Go back to his cell? Ian closed his eyes, frustration seeping into him.

  “Hey.” Jesse’s voice was soft, coaxing. “Ian, look at me.”

  Reluctantly Ian opened his eyes and met Jesse’s gaze. “I wish you didn’t have to go back to that fucking cell. I wish you were coming home.” With me.

  “I know. Me too.” He glanced off to the side as Watts gestured over to him. “I have to go back. That was part of the deal, but Raph says there’s talk of them reducing my sentence.”

  Ian shot Raph a glance where he now stood with Liam, watching them. He gave Ian a slight no
d in affirmation.

  Jesse drank the blood Ian had given him, then wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, already looking so much better than he had a few minutes ago. “Raph said you handed the VLCD a signed statement insisting you were thankful I turned you instead of leaving you for dead. It’s apparently a first for them, so they need time to discuss it.” Even with eyes still a little glazed over, his gaze bore into Ian’s, making him warm inside. “Thank you.”

  Ian leant down and placed a soft kiss on Jesse’s lips. “You’re welcome.”

  They stared at each other until Lys very audibly cleared her throat. “Jesse, we need to go. They say you can get more blood back in your cell.”

  Jesse nodded at her, then looked back at Ian. “They say I can have visitors, so . . .”

  “I’ll be there as soon as you’re healed.” Ian gripped his hand tight, not wanting to let go but knowing he had to.

  Raph eased Ian back out of the way as Lys helped Jesse to his feet. Six guards surrounded them. Two with their guns pointed at Ian. He’d forgotten they considered him a threat. With everything going on, the blood had ceased to register, but now it crept back in, tickling his senses in a familiar and wholly unwelcome way.

  He needed to go too.

  Seeming to sense it too, Jesse offered him a small smile. “Go back to the coven Ian, let them take care of you. I’ll see you soon.”

  Ian wanted to kiss him again, wanted to hold him in his arms, but the guards were already leading him away.

  “It’ll be okay.” Liam gripped his shoulder as they watched Jesse limp away, supported by Raph and Lys. “Raph won’t let them mistreat him, and he’ll do his best to get him out of that place as soon as he possibly can.”

  “I know.” And even though he didn’t know Raph well, or any of them come to that, he believed it. “But what happens now?” Without Jesse, he was lost. “What happens to me?”

  Liam smiled, warm and welcoming. “Firstly, I need to get you back upstairs and out of these things.” He gestured to Ian’s iron collar and handcuffs. “Then we go home. You’re part of our coven now. We’ll look after you and give you everything you need to get used to this life. Despite what some might tell you, we take care of our own, Ian, if you let us.”