‘Yes. And so does Mal.’ Again the feeling of being watched ran over his skin like ants.
‘Who she’s with is her choice.’ Creek started after the Nothos, now no longer in sight.
Doc let it drop, picking up his pace to match the slayer’s. Minutes passed in uncomfortable silence, but they covered more ground, finally catching up to the Nothos again.
‘They’re slowing,’ Creek whispered.
More than slowing, they were scaling the wall of another estate, disappearing one by one over the side. ‘They’re going home.’
‘Back to Tatiana.’
‘Yes.’ The last Nothos vanished over the wall. Doc turned to Creek. ‘I’m going to do some recon. You in?’
In answer, Creek leaped to the top of the wall. No way could a human have done that. The brother was definitely enhanced. He looked down at Doc expectantly.
A second later, Doc stood beside him. He inhaled, catching the stench of the Nothos. He tapped the side of his nose, then pointed forward. Keeping to the top of the wall, they followed the odor.
Once the wall veered away from the roadside, palms and magnolias clustered against it, giving them cover. They slunk forward, now on all fours, moving cautiously. The smell of brimstone grew stronger.
Through the trees, they watched the Nothos file into the property’s guesthouse. On the driveway connecting the two, a male vampire carried a bound and gagged female toward a high-end sedan.
Doc pushed some palm fronds out of the way to see better and caught sight of the woman’s face. His blood chilled. Mia. Despite the bruises on her face, he recognized her. Pasha’s claims of seeing her death filled Doc’s head.
The vampire threw her onto the backseat, slammed the door, then got in behind the wheel. The car headed for the gated entrance.
Doc grabbed Creek’s arm. ‘I know that girl. I’m going after her. You get back to Chrysabelle’s, tell her we found Tatiana.’
Without waiting for an answer, Doc threaded past Creek, under the palms and back to the road. The car was already through the gate, its taillights red as embers a few yards up the road. Wherever that vampire was taking Mia, it couldn’t be good.
He jumped down, ready to run. A hand closed over his arm. He whirled around to see Ronan. ‘What are you—’
Ronan clamped a rag over Doc’s nose and mouth. ‘Time to pay the piper, shifter. Imagine finding you and Maris’s killer in one night. Dominic is seriously going to owe me.’ Powder on the cloth clung to Doc’s mouth and nostrils, the bitter taste an instant warning. He struggled not to breathe, but his heart jackhammered in his chest. He thrashed out at Ronan, but the fringe dodged him. At last Doc inhaled, choking as the powder clogged his airway. His throat burned and the taste of dirty nickels coated his tongue. The back of his brain went numb.
Ketamine.
A thick, heavy curtain closed around him. The ground under him fell away and he slipped down, down, down into a blackness as endless as death.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Mal adjusted the Heliotrope’s speed down to a crawl. By now, Creek and Doc had probably fought off the Nothos. Or had died trying. What had Doc been doing at Chrysabelle’s house anyway? Maybe she’s kissing him, too.
‘I think we’re far enough out. I can’t even see the house.’ Chrysabelle had stayed quiet while Mal piloted her mother’s yacht through the waters of the Intracoastal, but now she kicked her feet up onto the leather sectional. ‘You could have let Creek drive the boat and gone after the Nothos yourself.’
He grunted in response. Did she really prefer Creek? The voices cheered as his stomach sank. She wants him, not you. Good riddance.
‘Or I could have fought alongside all of you.’
Yes, because the last time she’d faced the Nothos, she’d done so well.
‘Of course, I realize because of our deal you have a stake in my protection.’
That wasn’t the only reason. Should he tell her how he felt? How could he when he wasn’t even sure. Liar. Fool. Coward.
‘How’d you learn to drive a boat like this anyway?’
‘You pick up a lot in five hundred years.’
‘Oh good. For a moment I thought you’d gone mute.’ She jumped up and walked toward the control panel, where he stood between the wheel and the captain’s chair. She reached for a red button. ‘What’s this do?’
He grabbed her hand before she made contact with the distress locator. ‘Not that one.’
‘You feel a little cold. Time to feed soon.’
He let her hand go as his fangs shot down. Not the proper response. Especially when she’d made her choice and it hadn’t been him. Never will be you. ‘I’m good.’ He backed away, needing distance. ‘Take the wheel.’
‘And do what?’ The narrowest ribbon of panic curled through her voice.
‘Just hold it steady.’ He stayed far enough away that her perfume didn’t wind around him like the serpent that had beguiled Eve. Why had he thought being in a confined space with her was a good idea? Close enough to bite. To drink. To drain. She’d probably get bored and head out to the deck any minute.
Instead, she grabbed the wheel. ‘You should teach me to drive in case I ever need to.’
A second later he was behind her.
She jumped, backing into him, then pulling away just as fast. ‘I hate when you do that.’
Was it him that made her jumpy? Someone with her experience with vampires should be used to the speed at which they moved. Or maybe his closeness bothered her because she wasn’t entirely sure Creek was the right choice. From his spot behind her, he put his hands on her shoulders and steered her into the captain’s chair, then planted his hands on the armrests. He leaned in and almost sniffed the curve of her neck. Almost. The whining in his head kicked up a notch.
‘See this?’ He brushed his forearm against hers on the way to the instrument panel. ‘This is the fuel gauge.’
She nodded, pulling her arm into her side. ‘Got it. Fuel gauge.’
‘And this’ – he reached around her other side to tap the compass – ‘tells you what direction you’re going.’ Her warmth radiated into his skin from where his chest touched the back of her shoulder. Her pulse sang in his ears, an angel’s voice with a siren’s song. The voices whirled into a frenzy. Drain her, drain her.
His mouth grazed the tender spot beneath her ear before he realized he’d moved.
She stilled. Then jerked away. ‘What are you doing?’
What he wanted to, that’s what. He spun the black leather chair until she faced him, about to tell her the truth of his feelings, even though he wasn’t sure himself. Then he saw guilt in her eyes.
‘Don’t.’ She put her hands up. ‘I have to tell you something.’
The tiniest shard of fear burrowed into his gut. ‘What?’
Her eyes stayed fixed on the horizon. ‘Kissing Creek was my choice. I wanted to kiss him.’
So she’d made her decision. He moved, trying to catch her eyes, but she refused to look at him. ‘It’s because he’s human, isn’t it?’
She shook her head as she lifted it. ‘No. Maybe. I don’t know why. I just wanted to.’ Her chin jutted out defensively. ‘I can kiss whoever I want to.’
‘Yes, you can.’ He pushed off the chair and took a few steps back. His hands shook with the memory of seeing them together. ‘I understand and I’ll leave you alone.’
She lifted her chin farther, her eyes clouding over. ‘What? No. I wasn’t trying to push you away. I just didn’t want you to think Creek had forced himself on me.’ She slipped out of the chair. ‘I don’t want you to leave me alone.’
‘What about Creek?’
She twisted to put her hands on the wheel. ‘I want both of you,’ she whispered. ‘That’s horrible, isn’t it?’ She moved away from the console. ‘I’m done driving. And ready to go home.’
‘It’s not horrible.’ Except for him. ‘I get that things are changing for you. Creek and I will deal with whatever you decid
e.’ He slid in behind the wheel and adjusted the boat’s speed.
She nodded. ‘Thank you for understanding. I’m going outside for a bit.’
He stared down at the control panel. He didn’t understand at all. But keeping part of her was better than losing all of her. When he looked up, Chrysabelle stood at the railing on the lower deck. Her hair flowed out behind her and the wind molded her white silks against her body. From this distance, the glow about her was soft and ethereal, reminding him of the first time he’d spotted her.
That night at Puncture seemed years ago now. She’d been frightened and looking for help. Not much had changed. She still had plenty to fear, plenty she needed help with. Her life was no better for knowing him.
Once this trip to the Aurelian was done, his curse would be broken. The time would be right for him to move on. Start fresh. Let her do the same.
He stared past her, into the black waters of the Intracoastal. He’d been starting fresh for almost five hundred years. He could do it again.
Up ahead, the dock came into view. At the end of it, Creek stood alone, looking very much like a man with nothing good to report.
‘Doc’s gone.’ Creek shook his head, knowing the news wouldn’t go over well.
Chrysabelle rushed down the gangway. ‘What do you mean he’s gone?’
‘We made the first strike against the hellhounds, but they retreated—’
Mal shook his head. ‘Nothos don’t retreat.’
‘These did.’ Creek ignored Mal’s incredulous look and continued. ‘We tracked them back to Tatiana’s – she’s about an hour from here – then we saw another male vamp stuff a female varcolai into a car and take off with her. Doc said he knew the girl and went after her. I watched Tatiana’s a little longer, but got back to the street in time to see a fringe male throw an unconscious Doc into his trunk and peel off. I came back here as fast as I could.’
Mal cursed. ‘What did the fringe look like?’
‘I only saw him from the back. Short hair with flames carved into it, earrings—’
‘Ronan.’ The word came out of Mal’s mouth like a curse. ‘Head of security at Seven. Or was.’
Chrysabelle turned to Mal. ‘What would he want with Doc? You think he’s going to use him to get back at you?’
‘Get back at you for what?’ Creek asked, already imagining a few things.
‘Ronan and I have never seen eye to eye.’
‘Last time they fought was the night those fringe attacked me and I met you,’ Chrysabelle offered. ‘Mal beat Ronan up pretty badly. He’d want revenge.’
Mal shook his head. ‘Going after Doc isn’t his style. That kind of plan requires more thinking than Ronan has the capacity for.’
Chrysabelle crossed her arms. ‘Then what?’
‘The night we went to see Dominic, Doc talked to him about more than just the dead fringe he’d found.’ Mal shot Creek a look but kept talking. ‘I’m sure it had something to do with Fi. And the conversation didn’t go well.’ He paused. ‘Why was he staying at your house, Chrysabelle? Why would he leave Fi alone?’
Her gaze drifted downward. ‘I asked him if you two were fighting. He said no. He said it was a long story I was better off not knowing. I asked him if it involved Fi. He said yes.’ She looked up, tension playing across her pretty face. ‘Doc’s in trouble, isn’t he?’
Mal nodded, then jerked his thumb at Creek. ‘Where we need to go, he probably shouldn’t come.’
‘You mean Seven?’ Chrysabelle asked. ‘I think they let a few humans in now.’
‘It’s not the human part that concerns me. It’s the slayer part.’
‘He’s going.’ Chrysabelle headed for the house. ‘He’s the only one who saw what Ronan did.’
Mal cursed under his breath and took off after her, so Creek did the same. Both men caught up to her in a few steps, but Mal kept the argument going. ‘You want to take a slayer into Dominic’s club? You really think that’s the best thing to do? Dominic might not appreciate it.’
She glanced back at Creek like she was reconsidering. ‘Dominic doesn’t need to know what Creek is.’ She pointed at Creek. ‘And you’re not going to say a word about being KM.’
He held his hands up. ‘My lips are sealed.’
Her gaze shifted to Mal. ‘Neither are you.’
‘Not a word,’ Mal said.
Getting inside the club could be invaluable for future missions. ‘In fact,’ Creek added. ‘I’ll be on my best behavior.’
Even if his best behavior meant a few fringe got ashed.
Chapter Thirty
Doc floated and fell. Up. Down. Up. Down. In the abyss of ketamine, everything was nothing, and nothing made sense except the push and pull of unseen forces. His body had abandoned him, leaving him with the feeling of perfect weight-lessness. The universe swirled around him, through him. He became the universe. The Creator. The destroyer of all. Darkness filled his mouth and ears, scaled his eyes. He tried to grasp hold of something, tried to pull himself out, but he had no fingers. No hands.
He drifted.
Drifted …
Drifted …
The scalding scent of ammonia burrowed down through the darkness and yanked him out by the roots of his consciousness. He sputtered awake as he resurfaced. The ketamine sank its velvet claws a little deeper. He fought harder. Blurred images replaced the nothing. He lifted his sandpaper lids. Focused. Then wished he hadn’t.
Dominic stared down at him, the silver glow of his eyes almost blinding. ‘So, Maddoc, it appears your day of reckoning is at hand.’
Doc groaned and struggled to sit so he wouldn’t die lying down. His brain told his arms and legs to move. They didn’t. Then he realized his hands and feet were bound. Without the drug in his system, he probably would’ve been able to snap the rope, but he was too weak. His tongue was missing. Or made of cotton. Why was he fighting the universe’s embrace? He relaxed. The dark curtain began to close around him again.
A hand slapped his face. ‘Wake up.’ Then a sigh. ‘How much did you give him?’
‘Enough,’ answered an Irish lilt.
‘Ketamine,’ Doc said, his voice protesting even as he was unsure why he was speaking at all. The powder had left his vocal cords raw, his throat like a slab of meat. Ketamine affected feline shifters the way laudanum did vampires. Maybe worse.
‘Si,’ Dominic answered. ‘Not nearly so harsh as the combination you injected into me. But my mercy has a purpose.’ He strolled in and out of Doc’s field of vision. ‘I need you alive. At least a little while longer. Until my property is returned.’
It all came down to the blood. Life for Fi. Death for Doc.
‘I don’t have it,’ he ground out. He’d known this day would come from the second he’d shoved that needle into Dominic. He just hadn’t imagined it would come this soon.
Mind-numbing disappointment threatened to pull him back down into the k-hole. His eyes burned. This wasn’t supposed to have happened until he knew Fi was safe. He wanted to cry. If he couldn’t help her, he deserved death.
‘Where is it?’
Doc shook his head, a surge of emotion stealing his voice.
A fist slammed his jaw into the couch he’d been laid out on. The pain woke him up more than the ammonia had, but he played it off. Let them think he was still whacked. Might give him a shot to break free.
Ronan leaned over, blocking the ceiling’s mural. His fist was cocked. ‘Where is it?’
‘Ronan, enough. I need him conscious,’ Dominic said. ‘Who has the blood, Maddoc? Aliza? Tatiana? Ronan told me where she is.’
Ronan. How did that limey get to be a part of this? Then Doc remembered that’s who’d bagged him out in front of Tatiana’s. He spat out a mouthful of blood, bitter with the drug coursing through his system. He wondered what had happened to Mia. If she was still alive. The sinking feeling returned, but this time anger came with it. Why not tell? Wasn’t going to make things any worse. ‘Aliza.’
&nb
sp; A tirade of Italian spewed out of Dominic. Then a loud noise, like a fist pounding on a desk. A few moments later, Dominic was back in Doc’s face. ‘Since you gave my blood to the witch, you will get it back.’
‘Why should I? You’re going to kill me either way.’ He wiggled his toes, and for the first time since he’d woken up, they responded.
‘Get the blood back and help me put an end to Tatiana and I may not.’
Doc barked a laugh, raking pain down his throat. ‘Liar. You’re going to kill me first chance you get.’
Dominic grabbed a handful of Doc’s shirt and jerked him up. ‘Get the blood back for me, aid me in killing Tatiana, and I’ll let you live.’
Doc stilled, but kept his fingers working on the knots at his wrists. ‘How do I know you’re telling the truth?’
‘I swear it on Maris’s grave.’
Doc still didn’t trust him, but it meant buying time. He nodded. ‘Deal.’
‘We get the blood first, before the witch can do anything with it.’ Dominic dropped him and the weight of Doc’s body crushed his arms into the cushions, ending his attempt to free his hands. Dominic walked away, but Doc could move his head enough to keep track of him. Dominic nodded to Ronan, then tilted his head at Doc. ‘Get the walking shackles on him. I want to leave as soon as possible.’
Ronan nodded. ‘I’ll take him out through the garage.’
Good. Maybe Ronan would screw up, give Doc a chance to bolt. He went back to work trying to loosen his hands.
‘No,’ Dominic said. ‘Take him out through the employee entrance. I want everyone who works here to be reminded of the consequences of crossing me.’
Ronan scowled. ‘Are you threatening my people?’
Since when did Ronan have people? Doc snorted in amusement. Ronan glanced over and Doc rolled his eyes back into his head, fluttering his lids for effect. When he checked back, Ronan was ignoring him. Doc took the opportunity to work one hand free.
Dominic pulled on his suit jacket. ‘You may be the fringe’s king, but I’m still their employer. I will do as I see fit in that capacity. You still want my help, you’d better move. Capisce?’
Flesh And Blood: House of Comarre: Book Two (House of Comarre 2) Page 26
