A Safe Harbor: Building Sanctuary, Book 1

by Moira Rogers

  If it shocked him, he didn’t show it. “Everyone has to be moved. We’re loading up in cars and heading closer to the coast.”

  “To hide.” She rinsed the washcloth and stepped closer to the mirror to wipe away the blood streaking her face. There were scratches too, and at least one shallow cut on her shoulder that had healed to a thin pink line. “Adam’s trying to break the bonds we have with him. As soon as he figures out how, the others should begin healing again.”

  “Not a moment too soon.”

  No. Probably too late, but Astrid had cast the spells, and without her, Adam struggled against a lack of knowledge and a deficit of power. “He’s doing his best. We all are.”

  “I don’t doubt that.” Seamus stepped toward her. “Now it’s partly my responsibility too.”

  The bathroom was too small to make the press of his power anything but too intimate, especially in her current state of undress. She met his gaze in the mirror and put the punch of her remaining energy into it. “How much have Adam and Mr. Hamilton explained to you?”

  “Enough.” He reached over her shoulder. “Let me.”

  “No!” The word escaped on a surge of panic, and exhaustion had clearly made a fool of her because she didn’t realize he wasn’t reaching for the towel or her body until his fingers closed around the washcloth.

  She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see his face in the mirror as she let him take the cloth. “As you might imagine, we’re all unusually high strung.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought I was being careful.” The water ran, and he sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right.” Joan drew in a steadying breath and wished she hadn’t. With him so close, his scent overwhelmed everything. It was masculine, uncompromising, smells she associated with the type of men she’d never had much to do with before Adam. Sweat and dirt and liquor and the lead and gunpowder that meant he had a weapon on him, and underneath all that the indefinable something that said wolf.

  Or maybe that wasn’t a scent at all, but the brush of magic. It was more primal than smell, an instinctive prompting that told her another wolf was near. And more than that—a strong wolf. A male. An alpha, dominant whether he led a pack or not, a wolf she didn’t have to protect. Someone who could help her protect those in her care.

  Or someone who could hurt you. The voice of experience, not instinct, but a valid concern and one he’d have to be well prepared to deal with if he planned to help them. “My people will be nervous around you, and it can’t be helped. No wolf looks to a witch and vampire for protection if she’s known kindness from her alphas.”

  Again, he didn’t seem surprised. “Indeed.” He eased the cloth over the back of her neck. “You got clawed back here, but it’s mostly healed.”

  Memories of the frantic, vicious fight threatened to surface, and she shoved them back ruthlessly. “They weren’t going to kill me. I rather imagine they were all under very strict orders to ensure they didn’t, in fact.”

  “Because of Lancaster.”

  If only Edwin Lancaster were their sole concern. “He’s not happy with me, but it’s worse than that. I defied the Boston alpha.”

  His touch faltered for a moment. “Jesus Christ.”

  Yes, Seamus would understand what that meant in a way Adam never could. She opened her eyes and met his gaze in the mirror. “I did what I had to. I couldn’t watch them suffer.”

  He watched her in the mirror, his expression thoughtful. “I can handle getting your people to safety, but I’ll need your help.”

  “My help?” She turned and stared at him as anger bubbled up. “They’re my people. I will give everything for them, up to and including my life. But I’ll appreciate your help.”

  “Calm down, Joan. I know this is your burden.” His voice gentled. “Let me take it, just for a little while.”

  If she gave him an inch there’d be nothing left of her. “Men don’t take power for a little while.”

  After a moment, he nodded and draped the bloodstained cloth over the edge of the sink. “I’ll wait downstairs.”

  Every instinct inside her screamed in warning, and she thought it was the wolf clamoring for her to apologize, to do anything to keep Seamus from leaving and taking that aura of strength and safety with him.

  She turned, braced to ignore her wolf’s angry demands, but what splintered through her was pain, blinding physical agony so sharp she screamed before she could stop herself. Digging her teeth into her lower lip didn’t help because she wasn’t the only one screaming, and the screams from the rest of the house were high and pained and so afraid…

  Joan didn’t realize her knees had given out until strong arms locked around her waist. Pain made the room swim, but she held back another cry of pain, locked it inside until her voice only trembled a little. “Adam. I need to get to Adam.”

  Seamus had already slipped one arm under her knees. He lifted her with ease and shouldered through the bathroom door. “Just hang on, Joan. You’ll be all right.”

  How could she tell him she wasn’t afraid for herself? She had felt pain through the bonds before, the agony of someone connected to them dying a hard death. But it had been over in a heartbeat. It hadn’t twisted inside her until the world constricted to nothing but agony.

  Somewhere out there, one of her people was dying. Slowly.

  Chapter Two

  The situation had taken an even sharper turn for the worse than Seamus expected. He leaned against the parlor wall beside Gavin and watched as Adam clutched at Joan’s arm until she’d surely bear bruises in the shape of his hand.

  Joan seemed oblivious, at least to his grip. Steely, unwavering stubbornness filled her hazel eyes as she stared up at the vampire. “Do it.”

  Adam shook his head. “You’re hurt. You’re not strong enough.”

  “I’m always strong enough. Do it.”

  Uneasy, Seamus glanced at Gavin. His friend raised one shoulder in a shrug.

  Adam closed his eyes, and Joan swayed on her knees as the flickering strength inside her flared. Magic twisted in the room, prickling over Seamus’s skin, and he swore he saw it as power flowed from Joan to Adam. She seemed to wilt as he grew stronger, pulsing with energy that tasted more like a wolf than a vampire.

  Silence stretched between them for ten of Joan’s too-quick heartbeats, and Adam swore. “I found them. They’re far, probably fifty miles northwest. It’s Opal. They’re hurting her.” Frustration and rage colored his voice.

  Joan, by contrast, sounded calm. Almost numb. “Cut her loose.”

  “No.”

  Power pulsed, and a hoarse, gasping sob echoed down the hallway. Pain etched lines in Joan’s face, and Seamus saw tears in her eyes before she squeezed them shut. “Cut her loose, Adam. She’s drawing too much power.”

  “She’ll die without it.”

  “The rest of us will die if you don’t.”

  They were talking about the bonds. Seamus’s blood chilled, and he stood straighter as Adam snarled. The vampire’s fingers tightened around Joan’s arm until she hissed in a pained breath, but he released her a heartbeat later.

  The whimpers and sobs from upstairs cut off abruptly. Adam slumped forward, and Joan braced both hands on his shoulders. “Don’t stop. Use my power to release the people here. You can feed if you need to.”

  Adam knocked her hands away. “I’m not taking anything else from you. I’m not helping you commit slow suicide.”

  Gavin stepped forward, but Seamus held out an arm to stop him. “You’re running into a fight, Hamilton. I’m running from one.”

  “Seamus—”

  He ignored Gavin. “I’ll do it.”

  Joan inched back, making room in front of Adam. Someone had wrapped a blanket around her when they’d arrived in the parlor, but the fabric had slipped to her waist. She eased it back up around her shoulders, her fingers trembling, and spoke as Seamus knelt beside her. “Thank you.”

  Looking at her, weak and injured, stirr
ed a dangerous, protective rage. Even darker was the possessiveness her wide, grateful gaze elicited. “You’re welcome.”

  “Have you ever had a vampire feed from you before?” Adam asked.

  Seamus couldn’t tear his gaze away from Joan’s. “No.”

  Joan wet her lips and spoke without looking away. “His forearm, Adam. He’ll be like me. Not very comfortable with the idea of a strange man marking his neck.”

  The thought of Adam Dubois marking her anywhere drew a growl from Seamus’s throat. “Do whatever you need to do.”

  “His forearm,” Joan repeated, and this time it was an order. She scooted closer, until her blanket-covered knees brushed his, and reached out to touch his hand. “Vampires don’t gain power from the quantity of blood. It’s the quality—the willingness of the gift or the emotional charge behind it. If you’re uncomfortable or fighting him, even instinctively, it will take more.”

  Which told him nothing about how to handle it. “Don’t think I can avoid being uncomfortable. How do I do this?”

  Joan shifted her gaze over his shoulder, to where Adam had to be. She didn’t say anything, but her lips pressed together and a slow, pink flush rose in her cheeks. When she looked back at Seamus, self-consciousness and an odd anticipation clashed in her eyes. “Hold out your arm.”

  His shirtsleeve was half-rolled anyway, so he tugged it up and stretched out his arm. Joan lifted her hand and pushed it up another few inches, her fingertips brushing his skin in tiny, glancing touches that awakened his body.

  When she had his sleeve arranged to her satisfaction, she moved her hand to his shoulder. “Watch me,” she whispered as Adam’s fingers closed around his wrist. “If your wolf needs distraction, use me.”

  Any more distraction, and he’d have to chase her through the backyard and take her where he caught her. Fiery pain shot up his arm as Adam’s teeth closed on his skin, but he stood his ground, determined not to let anyone, least of all Joan, see his discomfort. “I’m plenty tough, honey.”

  The worry didn’t fade from her eyes. She lifted her hand to his cheek, her touch feather-light. “It shouldn’t take long. If he has enough power he can concentrate and break the bonds one at a time instead of just severing them all. He needs to stay connected to the ones who’ve been captured so he can use that to find them.”

  “Right.” Seamus forced himself to breathe. He understood what Adam needed to do, but that didn’t help the trapped feeling. The wolf inside him had been bitten, subdued, and he didn’t like it. “Damn it all.”

  “Shh.” Small, delicate fingers curled around the back of his neck, and she leaned in until a hairsbreadth separated their mouths. “He won’t hurt you. Can’t dominate you. You’re giving a gift.”

  Now that she’d cleaned away the blood, he could smell her under the soap. Her skin was smooth and pale, her hair shiny and curling the tiniest bit as it dried. He wanted to kiss her, so he held himself still. “I can’t—”

  Her lips touched his. Soft, so soft it was hardly a kiss. It could have been an accident, considering how quickly she pulled away, but a moment later she was back again, her head tilted and her lips pressing more firmly, albeit off-center.

  She didn’t know how to kiss, but she tasted as good as she smelled. He opened his mouth a little, just to see if she’d deepen the gentle caress. Tension trembled in her body, but she parted her lips as if following his lead.

  The burn of panic subsided, replaced by an entirely different kind of heat. Seamus tore his mouth from hers and gritted his teeth again. “How much longer?”

  “Not much,” she whispered, her voice shaking with helplessness. “I’d do it if I could. I’m sorry.”

  It was far from a mere apology or excuse. She meant the words with an intensity that drew him, until all he could think of was kissing her again. Her mouth was pliant under his, willing, though she clearly had no idea what to do.

  He stroked his thumb over the curve of her cheek. She made a quiet noise that turned into a gasp as he traced his tongue over her lips. Magic flared between them, power tinged with feral need.

  She needed this.

  He slid his fingers into her dark hair, and the cool, damp strands clung to his skin. “Joan.”

  A soft, hungry growl tickled his ears. Her nails pricked the back of his neck. The tip of her tongue darted out, dragged along his lip as if she was tasting him.

  The pain vanished, though it took his addled mind a few seconds to register that fact. Seamus lifted his head and found Adam watching them, gaze slightly unfocused. “It’s over, Joan.”

  She started at the sound of Adam’s voice and jerked back, scrambling to pull the blanket tight around her shoulders. The flush in her cheeks deepened from pink to red as she tugged at the cloth until it covered everything up to and including her chin. “Is it enough?”

  “It’s enough,” Adam replied without looking away from Seamus. “Gavin, can you go upstairs to the room where the injured are and make sure they all stay calm? This may disorient some of them.”

  “Got it.” Gavin took off down the hall.

  Seamus watched absently as the holes in his inner arm closed. “Is there anything else I can do?”

  “Joan.” It sounded like the answer to his question until Adam knelt in front of the young woman. He reached out and touched her cheek, and a tired smile curved his lips. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s going to hurt. You were the first.”

  Joan didn’t flinch. “I know.”

  Adam rocked to his feet. “Watch her.”

  It was going to hurt her, and Seamus wanted to take her away, protect her from it. His hands shook, and he closed them into fists.

  Whatever the vampire was doing, it was subtle—at first. Aside from a faint stirring of energy, Adam could have been sitting quietly, staring at nothing. The first real indication of something happening was Joan’s tiny, pained gasp. Her body went stiff, and magic lashed through the room, rising ferociously as one piercing, heartbreaking scream tore free of her throat.

  In the next moment, she went wild. Everything human faded from her eyes as she jumped to her feet, deadly graceful and inhumanly fast. She clawed at her undergarments, tearing her panties and bra. Most of the fabric fell to the floor, but Adam didn’t notice. He was intent on something else, something Seamus could neither see nor sense.

  “Joan?” Seamus held out a hand. “Joan, honey, calm down.”

  A snarl was the only response he got before she hit the floor on her knees, fur already flowing over her body. She changed too fast, the magic ripping her apart, and the small brown wolf who took her place howled once in outraged pain before bolting for the back door.

  “Shit.” Adam didn’t move, and there was no one else. Seamus tugged off his boots and ripped at his vest and shirt. He had to chase her down, calm her down…and bring her back.

  Someone had closed the door, a small mercy. It gave him time to tear at his pants as the rhythmic thud of Joan throwing herself against the door drifted in from the kitchen. Something crashed to the floor as he dropped his pants, dishes followed by the metallic clink of silverware. Then glass shattered.

  He stalked through the house, tossing aside the rest of his clothes. By the time he opened the back door, he saw her, streaking across the lawn at full speed.

  “God damn it.” It took him a moment to call the spark of magic inside him. When he had it, the change flowed over him, easy and familiar.

  He ran after her.

  Joan would have stopped running before she hit the edge of the clearing if Seamus hadn’t chased her.

  Her paws dug deep into the dirt as she bolted between two trees. Pain had forced her to run, but it was her wolf who made her continue. With the sun hanging low in the west the woods would be dark, and she knew them intimately. Seamus would have to work to catch her…and she wanted him to work.

  He yipped and snarled but kept pace with her despite his disadvantage, the sounds growing closer as he gained. Her wolf was ready to be
caught, but Joan had reclaimed just enough sense to know what often followed a challenge and a chase between male and female wolves.

  Nerves gave her speed. She darted between two bushes and leapt over a fallen log, but her paws slipped on the damp leaves on the opposite side.

  Seamus didn’t stumble. He sailed past her, large but fast, and rounded, cutting her off.

  With her path blocked, Joan panted for breath and studied her adversary. The black wolf in front of her outweighed her by a fair margin and seemed more intimidating than his human counterpart. As loudly as her wolf had clamored before, now she’d fallen suspiciously silent.

  He sat and watched her, tensed and poised to move again. Backing down would bring the confrontation to an end, but she’d never submitted to anyone in her short existence as a werewolf. So she bared her teeth and lunged to the side, ready to slide to the ground and twist out of the way if he pounced.

  He matched her movements, close enough to block but not crowd her. She snarled and dodged the opposite way, but he moved just as fast, cutting off her escape.

  Joan was preparing to turn and charge back the way she’d come when the pain hit her, twice as hard as the wave of agony that had caused her to shift and riding on a swell of power so intense it stole her breath. Her legs collapsed, spilling her onto the damp leaves as magic tore through her. She didn’t realize she’d shifted again until she heard her own pained whimpers, and even that didn’t matter when the bonds tying her to Adam and the rest of her people finally snapped.

  Nothing had ever felt so wrong. The pain ceased almost at once but left behind a gaping hole, abject emptiness in the place that had held life and a subtle awareness of the wolves tied to her. She choked on a sob and dug her fingers into the dirt, grasping for something, anything to take the place of what she’d lost.