Weaken the Knees (The Immortal World Book 6)

by Shannon A. Hiner

  Will took the door from her and followed her down a set of narrow stone stairs into the darkness. His eyes adjusted quickly—thank God for vampire sight. Below was a hall with cells on either side, about eight feet by eight feet wide and deep, with thick metal bars over the front of each. Something oppressive was in the air, a smell he only vaguely remembered from touring the Catacombs in Genocide. Iridium.

  In front of him, Aubri shivered. “I didn’t feel that last time.” But she’d been human the last time.

  “Stupid. Mother. Fucking. Whoreson. Piece. Of. Excrement. Tub. Of. Rotted. Flesh. Demon. Spawn.” The line of expletives was rising and falling in tempo with a thumping noise.

  He knew that voice.

  “Rene?” he called, sprinting the rest of the way down the hall. A few cells down, he found her, standing over the body of a fallen werewolf in human form, kicking the beast over and over again.

  Her hair was a stringy mess, her clothes dirty, torn, and the color of the dirt in the cell. She looked slight in a way he’d never imagined. Vampires didn’t gain or lose weight, but there was something smaller about her.

  “Rene?” he said again, moving to the bars of the cell. He was shocked to find it was unlocked, the door swung right open.

  Rene didn’t seem to note him there. Hadn’t she heard him? She was still kicking the beast and as Will got closer, he realized the thing was dead already. Its eye was a bloody, destroyed mess, and blood pooled around its mouth as well.

  He reached for her, gripping her shoulder. She turned on him faster than he could react, reaching out with clawing hands and rage in her eyes that didn’t know him. Didn’t know anything except murder. She took him down to the ground easily, fangs gnashing at his neck. Will barely caught her wrists, holding her back. She wasn’t Rene at that moment. She was a wild, uncaged animal who wanted blood.

  “Will, you need a hand?” Aubri called from outside the cell.

  She distracted Rene for a split second and it was all he needed. Rolling his weight, he was able to pin her to the ground and hold her there. “I’m good. Get that human in the corner out of here.”

  Rene fought him with all her strength. And it was pitiful. They must have starved her for months to make her so weak. Aubri rushed into the cell and picked up the small human child in the corner, running back out and down the hall.

  “Rene,” he said holding her down as gently as he could, which wasn’t very, considering the biting and clawing going on. “It’s me. It’s Will.” He tried to lean down close to her, make her really see him. She tried to bite again. Emotion choked his throat. Thank God Serena wasn’t here to see this. “Please, it’s me. It’s me.” He rubbed his thumbs over the softest part of her wrists. “Come back to me. It’s Will.”

  Her fighting slowed somewhat. He thought for a moment it was because she was tiring so much, but then her eyes cleared just the littlest bit. She moaned and closed them. It was the most human thing she’d done yet and it gave him hope. “Rene?” He leaned down again, aware he was taking his life in his hands.

  Her face crumpled like she would cry and now instead of fighting him, she was trying to get away. She reacted to his hands on her wrists as if they were snakes curling about her, ready to strike. Will let them go immediately and moved them to her face, her neck. Dry sobs wracked her weakened frame and he felt them reverberate through his own body. “Shh, shh, baby, it’s me.” Still, she cringed from him

  Will closed his eyes and leaned his head down against her heart, pressing his face to her skin and breathing deeply. “It’s your Will.”

  Long, unbearable minutes passed but her body began to relax. Finally, a soft, broken word whispered over his hair. “Will.”

  Joy and relief like nothing he’d ever felt suffused his whole body. He brought his head up, needing to see the recognition in her bright indigo eyes, but they were closed. Her body limp. No life stirring within.

  Chapter 31

  “You are new now. A new body, a new life, a new spirit.”

  “I am?” she whispered, looking at her hand as if it would be a stranger’s. In some ways, it was. The skin there was harder, cooler. Her fingers looked and felt stronger. Sarah was gone.

  “Yes.”

  She looked up at him, his clear hazel eyes were soft as snowflakes upon her face. Wonder filled her and she nearly smiled.

  “What is your name?”

  “S—” she stopped.

  He waited, the warmth of his expression unaltered. He understood. She could feel it. Sarah was dead.

  A name flitted through her memory. The book her father had been reading to her before . . . before he was gone.

  “Rene.”

  “Perfect.” He smiled. “Reborn.”

  Sarah was buried.

  ∞∞∞

  Sleep was a dangerous thing. Not enough of it, and it would pull you under itself. Too much, and you began to crave it more and more, dread the waking hours. Sleep too deeply, and you might never rise again. Rene floated there, easy and content for the first time ever. Apart from life. Safe from its cold light. Safe from the decisions and the memories.

  She shied away from the voices, the signs and sounds of life going on without her. Eventually, they all went away. Leaving her to her rest.

  All but one.

  ∞∞∞

  Will looked down from his book, no longer hoping to see angry indigo eyes. Ninety-two hours had passed, as time was wont to do. Minute by grueling minute.

  Slowly their retinue of helpers had gone their separate ways. The werewolf being first, followed by shapeshifters, and few by few the vampires. Serena had left the night before, needed on clan business. A little of the light had gone out in her eyes, seeing her friend alive, but unwilling or unable to wake.

  Errin Kaye’s initial examination had confirmed Will’s fears. Rene had been starved and exposed to long periods of sunlight. She was weakened beyond anything he could have imagined. But, Errin said, aside from a few small injuries, she was not otherwise hurt. Physically.

  Remembering the unseeing rage in her eyes, the hurt and terror, Will knew that her worst injuries were hidden well under the surface. Always had been. Whatever the wolves had done to her, those injuries had been brought topside and all too immediate.

  Last night he had thanked Errin and Bree for their hospitality, and brought Rene home, making her as comfortable as he could, but still unable to heal her heart and mind. Unable to even reach them, if she wouldn’t wake up.

  She lay peaceful, long dark hair tucked in a knot just above her shoulder, pale cheek resting against the navy blue pillowcase. One hand lay next to her face, fingers curled in slightly toward her palm, the other—under sheet and blanket—was wrapped around her stomach protectively. She hadn’t moved since he’d laid her down sixteen hours prior. Her expression, peaceful and blank, hadn’t altered either.

  For once she looked her human age, seventeen. All of the past was wiped from her face, leaving her so young, so innocent. None of the suspicion and anger, the defensiveness and cynicism showed.

  She didn’t look like Rene Kaplan. A face like that needed a softer name, a sweet name.

  Laying the book down on his lap, Will reached out, but pulled his hand to a stop halfway. His fingers ached to touch her, assure himself she was still real, still in there. Still Rene. But it was one thing to pick her up and transport her to safety, quite another to touch her simply for the selfish pleasure of it when she was sleeping at that. Just a brush of her cheek, he told himself, just one small touch, and then he would be done. His hand didn’t even wait for his brain to give him the go-ahead. As soon as the rationalizing began, his arm was propelling forward again. Slowing just before reaching one angled cheek bone.

  Heart catching in his throat, Will allowed his fingers to slide slowly over her cool skin. Reaching the side of her face, he drew his thumb back over the edge of her cheek. Once, twice . . . The third time, he brushed the softness of her dark eyelash, traced the corner of her wid
e almond eye, found his eyes drawing his fingers down toward sun-chapped lips.

  Without warning, her hand shot out, catching his wrist in a vise and slamming his entire arm down against the pillow beside her head. Her small fingers gripped him painfully, not relenting their pressure for an instant. In fact, her grip seemed to squeeze tighter and tighter.

  Will winced, and glanced back at her face. Deep indigo-violet orbs of anger were affixed to his offending hand. It was the same look from the cell when she turned on him, blind to who he was, only acting on instinct and rage. He stayed very still, waiting for her to calm, to either realize who he was, or collapse into sleep again. Her chest rose and fell once, not breathing—inhaling, scenting the air. Whatever she smelled, or didn’t, it made her eyes clear somewhat. Still angry, but now confused as well. Without loosening her grip on his wrist, she turned her head very slowly to see him.

  Will had no idea what expression was on his own face, caught somewhere between hoping she was back, and praying she wasn’t . . . different. What had she gone through with the wolves? What might they have broken within her? Stolen from her, and from him? Without meaning to, he flexed his hand in her grip, trying to get comfortable in the tightening vise that, were he human, would be cutting off circulation. The movement made her grip tighten even further and he winced. Then, just as suddenly as she’d gripped him, Rene let go. A stark white outline of her fingers remained about his wrist, and he didn’t move it, fearful of setting her off again.

  She closed her eyes, squeezed them shut, and both of her hands curled into fists. No, she couldn’t go back to sleep, not again, he wouldn’t let her go.

  “Rene—” he whispered, but she cut him off with a growl.

  “Stop looking at me like that.”

  ∞∞∞

  “What?” he asked, and Rene opened her eyes to see his expression hadn’t changed. His drawn together brows and soft, warm chestnut eyes accentuated the downturn of his lips, the tightness of his cheeks.

  Seeing her weakness.

  Worry.

  Seeing her brokenness.

  Pity.

  “Like some wounded baby bird,” she spat back at him.

  His frown deepened and Will tilted his head. “Rene—”

  “Just stop,” she said, hating the way her voice broke. “Stop! I hate when you look at me like that.” She turned her face down, unable to see that expression in his eyes a second more. I’m not broken.

  “Of course you aren’t.”

  Shit, had she said that out loud? Something brushed her face again. Rene didn’t have the strength to resist him. She couldn’t help it. Will felt like safety. Always had.

  When she didn’t pull away or strike out, he hesitated once more. Closing her eyes, Rene leaned forward to press her face into his shoulder. Will’s fingers threaded through her hair and around the back of her neck as he wrapped his other arm about her waist. His body trembled around hers, as if he held it still against its will. Rene took a deep breath and inhaled the scents of bayberry and leather, roasting chestnuts and dewy mornings.

  He smelled like home. And it broke her heart.

  “You found me.”

  “I had some help.”

  “You didn’t give up.”

  She felt him smile against her hair, a soft puff of laughter curled past her ear. “When have I ever had the sense to give up with regard to you?”

  Never.

  Nuzzling her nose deeper into his too soft shirt, she couldn’t stop her arms from sliding around his waist, linking together. A sound left his throat at that, a deep hum that reverberated down her spine then dipped inward, curling hot and tight in her stomach. How was she ever going to hold him at a distance again after this? She needed to remind him, remind herself, this was a bad idea.

  “Will,” she said, drawing in one more long inhale of his homey, beautiful scent before leaning back. “Why are you here? Why don’t you have the sense to give up? I’ve been such a bitch to you. I mean, I’m a horrible person. Really.”

  He tilted his head, looking into her eyes with a small smile. “Would Tanner have loved you if you were a horrible person?”

  Not what she’d been expecting. “Maybe . . .?” Tanner wasn’t a usual sort of person, after all.

  He went on, “Would Serena love you if you were a horrible person?”

  “She’s kind of naive.”

  Will smiled at that. The hand he still had at the back of her head massaged her neck, fingers splayed on either side, gently digging into skin and muscle as he caught all of her tension and eased it. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the hollow of her throat, his words whispering over her skin. “Would I love you if you were a horrible person?”

  “Yes.” No hesitation.

  “You’re right.” He kissed her throat again, then dragged his lips up the column of her neck to bite her chin before settling them over hers in an open mouthed, deep kiss that seemed to ignite the pilot light of her soul. Heat was everywhere they touched, burning out over every muscle, then up through her skin. There was no resisting the delicious heat, no pushing away the soul who brought it.

  When he finally drew his mouth away, it was to whisper, somewhat breathlessly, “But you’re not a horrible person.”

  She shook her head slowly, as much to clear it as to deny his words. “I am, really. I’m awful.”

  He laughed.

  “You don’t know, you can’t even comprehend . . .” Rene let her sentence drift off, finding herself unwilling to totally despoil herself to Will’s adoring eyes. “You’re too good. Too innocent and good for me, Will.”

  “Woman,” he said with fond exasperation. “Have you any concept of what men do in war? I have done plenty that I am not proud of, plenty that I would rather forget and never speak of again.”

  “Yes,” she said bitterly. “I’m sure that compares to what I’ve been through and done.”

  His eyes darkened, but he didn’t respond. Rene pulled out of his arms and turned away. Lying down, her back to him, she said, “Don’t you understand? If you stay, I'll just keep on hurting you. I can’t seem to stop.”

  His response was immediate, without doubt. “There’s no one I’d rather have hurting me for the rest of my unnatural life.”

  Rene squeezed her eyes shut, clutching a pillow to her chest as she whispered the one thing she’d never thought to admit. “I lied.”

  “About what?”

  “I am broken.”

  “It’s okay.” Laying down next to her, Will reached to pull her back tight to his chest. The contact between their bodies brought instant relief and warmth.

  “I can’t be fixed.”

  “I don’t need to fix you.” Will pressed his lips to her shoulder. “I just want to hold your broken pieces together, if you’ll let me.”

  Chapter 32

  Will woke a little after sunset to find himself alone. No impression in the bed next to him, sheet and blanket were drawn up to the pillow. Disappointment pricked at him. Falling asleep next to Rene had been the easiest thing in the world. He’d hoped to experience waking up next to her as well. Evidently, that would have to wait. He slid off the bed fully dressed, just as he’d fallen asleep. Sock feet padding on the cool flooring, he made his way across the bedroom and stopped still in the doorway.

  On the other side of the living room, Rene was kneeling on the hardwood, holding a set of earphones to her ear. In her other hand was a CD case, and scattered around her were stacks of music in varying formats. Her eyes were closed, a small smile tugging at her lips. It was the most relaxed Will had ever seen her. He watched her for long minutes. When she finally looked up, he was leaning against the doorjamb smiling.

  The smile dropped from her lips and she tugged the earphones off, hitting a button on the CD player. “Sorry, I—”

  He waved a hand. “Don’t apologize, you can listen to my music anytime.”

  A wicked smile teased her lips, before dropping away entirely, replaced by a bone-
deep sadness. “The werewolves . . . they . . . I had a collection.”

  The seemingly unrelated comments clicked and he sucked in a breath. “When they found your apartment?”

  She gave a short nod.

  His own collection was small, just his favorites from the last five decades, but Will knew that many of the artists and formats were quickly becoming irreplaceable. Rene wasn’t exactly sentimental, so the fact that she’d not only had a collection, but showed him her grief over losing it . . .

  He took a deep breath, and tried for light. “Who would have thought you and I actually had something in common?”

  Rene smiled again, but it was still sad. Placing the earphones on the shelf next to the CD player, she started to replace the music she’d removed. Will crossed the room to assist, even as he noticed that she put everything back exactly where it had been before.

  “It was what I missed most,” she said. “While they had me.”

  His fingers squeezed the cassette case in his hand a little too tightly and the plastic protested. The reminder of what she’d been through, how long he’d searched for her. Music. Music had been what she most missed. In that small, bright cell, starved of blood and darkness and music. “Hmm,” was all he could say past the emotion choking his throat.

  “What?” Rene’s eyes were sharp on his face, as if she sensed the sorrow rising within him.

  Will cleared his throat. Keep it light. “Well, I was hoping you’d missed me the most.”

  She stared at him a moment longer—stony face and eyes—before snorting. “Yeah, that’s it. How ever did you know? I didn’t have a decent meal for months, I couldn’t lie flat for the sun filling my cell, and the wolf who came for me was—” she stopped abruptly, then restarted, “Yes, you were what I most longed for.”

  Was what? The wolf who came for her was what? The question was on the tip of his tongue, but he knew she wouldn’t tell him. Not yet. He remembered the blind rage with which she had attacked the already dead wolf in her cell. Remembered how far removed from herself she’d been.