by Aliya DalRae
Even though the mere thought of her being with Raven was enough to give him distemper, Malcolm had to admit that the leeches were at least protective of her. They went above and beyond the call of duty when it came to making sure she was safe. And he didn’t know of a single case of them stalking her or spying on her.
Like he was.
How the hell did he get involved in this? It was supposed to be a simple job. Just hang out with a bunch of stray kitties, and check in periodically with his “employer” to let them know all was okay—or not, as the situation dictated. It was Jessica he was watching.
But now that he had developed feelings for her, he couldn’t stand to see her mistreated like this. The wolves should have her on a pedestal. They shouldn’t be watching her like some kind of potential threat. They should leave her alone, let her live her life. The girl had been through entirely too much in her short existence. She deserved a break.
The bartender brought his drink, and Malcolm glanced at his watch. It was almost one, and the bar was all but empty, which was unusual for Buzz’s, to say the least. On a regular night, things were just picking up about now. “Where is everybody?” he asked the wolf before he could walk away.
“Been kind of a weird night,” he said. “Girl usually works with me took off, and for some reason, so did most of the customers. Wish I could get out of here. Full moon’s coming, and I’m itching to run.” He flashed a wolfish grin, and Malcolm smiled back, understanding. Though Shifters, like Weres, could change at will, there was nothing like changing during the full moon. It was magical.
Malcolm swallowed a sigh and looked around the lifeless bar. What the hell am I doing here? he thought. He rapped his knuckles on the bar, threw back his drink and followed the bartender to settle his tab.
He walked out into the clear night, but before he could take two steps toward his car, a black pickup truck screeched into the parking lot and stopped in front of him. Two men jumped from the back, grabbed him, and threw him in the bed of the truck, laying on him to keep him hidden. By the smell of them, they were Werewolves, and this could mean one of two things. Either he had stirred up the Alpha’s curiosity sufficiently to warrant a face to face, or he had overshot the mark and Dane wanted him dead.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
R aven carried me into the house, grabbed a handful of clean dishtowels from a kitchen drawer, and laid me on the floor in the living room. He grabbed a throw pillow from the sofa and put it under my head.
“Not the good ones,” I said, as he reached for a towel to stop the bleeding.
“I’ll buy you more,” he murmured, placing it on my shoulder and applying pressure, making me gasp.
Crimonelly, it hurt. I looked down, and saw that we were getting a lot of blood on the floor. The way it was seeping around the towel, there was no way he was going to soak it all up. And the room was spinning, putting a definite question mark on my continuing state of consciousness.
I looked at Raven, and really saw him. Every bit I could see was covered in blood.
“Any of that yours?” I asked with a weak gesture.
“A fair amount,” he said, lifting the towel from my shoulder to get a better look at the wounds. Something hard brushed my arm.
“Raven, is that a tree sticking out of your chest?”
“Oh—yeah. I’ll get that in a minute.”
“Doesn’t it hurt?”
“Yeah, but not as much as seeing you like this. Jessica you need help. More than I can give without…”
We had talked about this. After the whole Sorcerer thing I had been so close to death. Raven had saved my life by giving me his blood, and I agreed that there had been no choice. Raven did what had to be done to save me.
However, I suggested should the need arise again, I thought it might be best if we went the route of traditional medicine. In the end we agreed that, unless I was unconscious, I would get to decide the course of my medical treatment.
“So, you think hospital?” I asked.
“Christ, Jess, I don’t know. I can’t see how they can stitch this. It’s like hamburger.” My stomach roiled, bile rising in the back of my throat.
I swallowed and said, “So it’s going to leave a pretty big scar?” Raven looked away and cleared his throat. I could tell he was struggling with how much to tell me, so it had to be pretty bad.
“You’re losing a lot of blood, Jess. I can’t get it to stop.” Raven was in as near a state of panic as I had ever seen him. I could tell he wanted to help me like he had before, but he wouldn’t force me. I really didn’t want to drink his blood again. It was one thing to have it “administered” while I was unconscious, but to make the choice? It seemed so radical.
And kind of icky.
On the other hand, if he took me to the hospital I would have to create a plausible explanation for my mangled shoulder. Wild animal? Farm equipment? Oh no, I was just attacked by a feral Vampire—silly little thing. Might need a tetanus shot while you’re at it, though. Shit.
“Jessica,” Raven was watching me, his eyebrows drawn in concern. “If you would let me.” He looked down at his wrist, and I knew he was thinking the same thing I was. Of course, he was also filthy with blood, his, mine, and presumably both ferals’. That made the prospect all the less appetizing.
I tried to sit up, wanted to get a look at exactly what we were dealing with, but apparently that was a no go. When I opened my eyes I was flat on my back again, Raven’s hands on my cheeks as he begged me to come back.
“Guess that was a bad idea,” I said, turning my face into his palm. His wrist was there in front of me, and I could see his pulse beating there. Funny, I’d never noticed that before, but now I found it fascinating and I couldn’t stop staring.
“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” I said, motioning to the stake in his chest, trying to get my mind off the arterial rhythm I was imagining I could hear. “If I take your blood, it could make you weaker. Hell, I should be giving you mine.”
“You know I would die for you, amante.” Yep. I did know that. He had proven it on more than one occasion. But I didn’t want him to. Of course, I wasn’t too keen on dying just now either.
“What about how you healed my knees, after the first Sorcerer attack?” I asked, hesitant to bring up a touchy subject. I wasn’t exactly privy to that little act of first aid, but the healing properties of his saliva had worked at the time. Maybe…
“Too much damage here,” he said, his cheeks flushing beneath the blood drying on his face.
“Sorry,” I said, and I was. Raven reached across me to replace the blood soaked towel on my shoulder with a fresh one.
“Jessica, we need to decide,” he said. “You’ve lost too much blood already. So what’s it going to be? Me or the hospital?”
Shit. I couldn’t choose. I choked back a sob, but the tears were determined, and there was no stopping them. I was beyond the pain now, numb, and I had a vague thought that this was not a good sign.
Raven was stroking my face, my hair, and again I found myself watching his wrist, sensing his pulse, and it scared me. I wasn’t sure if I was hesitating because I found the thought of drinking his blood repulsive, or because, inexplicably, I did not.
I closed my eyes—dangerous that—and tried to visualize Raven opening his wrist for me, pressing it to my lips. I imagined the feel of his blood flowing from his open vein, over my tongue, down my throat. I waited for the revulsion of the images to churn my stomach again, but felt butterflies of excitement instead.
What was wrong with me? My hands were shaking, and it seemed easiest to blame everything on shock and blood loss. I opened my eyes and looked at Raven. His brow was twisted with worry and I knew if I didn’t choose soon, it would be out of my hands. Raven would do what he had to in order to keep me alive. Unless I said “hospital” right now, I would be drinking his blood. And again with the scary butterflies.
I knew what I had to do. Raven swore to me I couldn’t be turned, but the way
I was feeling, I wasn’t so sure he knew what he was talking about.
I opened my mouth to tell Raven to call 911, but instead I heard myself say, “Do it.”
I watched Raven’s eyes as I spoke, and they widened at my words. I guess I was shocking both of us tonight.
“Are you sure?” he asked, and I could hear his pulse speeding up. No, I was imagining that. Raven heard heartbeats. Tas and Harrier and Perry heard heartbeats. Not me. I did not hear heartbeats.
I nodded, and he brushed his fingers on my cheek before raising his wrist to his mouth, fangs extended.
With his arm halfway there, he stopped.
“What’s wrong?” I croaked, and even I could tell my voice was getting weaker. He reached for a clean towel, spit on it, and scoured his arm, making a clean spot in the filth that covered his skin. He returned his wrist to his mouth, and in an instant his vein was opened for me.
Gently, he pressed the wound to my lips, and I squeezed my mouth and my eyes shut tight, in spite of the excitement building inside me. This was to heal my wounds, nothing more.
Slowly, I opened my lips, and a stream of blood trickled into my mouth. I prepared to gag on the metallic fluid, but was surprised to find it sweet and heady. I swallowed, and moaned.
It was wonderful.
My eyes remained closed, but I grabbed Raven’s arm, held it to my lips where I’d created a vacuum seal as I nursed on his blood. I must have been delirious, since I couldn’t possibly be enjoying this. Perhaps I was already dead?
When Raven tried to pull away, I heard a low growl. It wasn’t until I felt the vibration of the sound coming from my own throat that I released him, my face warming.
I was sitting up now. Somehow Raven had moved behind me and was holding me in his lap as I fed. I was feeling stronger already, and started to make a joke to alleviate the discomfort I felt, but when I looked at Raven I hesitated.
He was staring at his wrist, so naturally I looked, too.
I shouldn’t have.
He raised his arm, Vampire fast, to lick his wrist, to heal and hide what was there, but it was too late. There was no mistaking what I’d seen.
There were two sets of bite marks on his wrist. One from sharp, pointy fangs, and another from a blunter, more human set of teeth.
His, and mine.
Chapter Sixty
M alcolm thought about fighting. If he changed quickly he could catch the wolves off guard and jump out of the truck. It would probably hurt like hell, but at least he would be free. However, if the Alpha simply wanted to talk, he would miss the opportunity to let the bastard know how he felt about his job.
If they reached their destination, and things looked bad for the home team, Malcolm was certain he could make an escape. The cats were generally smaller, but they were smarter. That was simple fact.
“Where are you taking me?” he asked. His captors’ raucous laughter was the only response. He was flat on his stomach and the bastards were laying on him like two dogs on a sofa. As restraints go, silver would have been a better option, but the wolves were more allergic than he was.
His questions were answered when they pulled onto a familiar dirt lane. He could smell the trees and the scent of wolf was all around him. The vehicle came to a stop, and when they lifted him out, he was staring at the same log mansion from before. Only this time, they were leading him inside.
Actually, pushing and shoving him would be more accurate.
Patrick Dane was seated behind a massive, leather topped desk, dark mahogany, with legs carved in intricate designs of what appeared to be wolves. His wife was perched on the edge of a sofa off to the side, her nervous scent permeating the room.
“Please, have a seat,” Dane offered, motioning to a large, comfortable looking chair across the desk from him. At a glance from their Alpha, his kidnappers let him go, taking a step back.
Malcolm eyed the Alpha a moment before sitting. He wasn’t about to let the man think he was intimidated. If his death warrant had been signed, no amount of false respect was going to change that. He would go out like a man.
“I apologize for my Packmates. I don’t suppose it occurred to these curs that you might come along willingly.” Patrick glared at the two. If they’d been in wolf form, they would have had their tails between their legs. “You may go,” he waved them out, and they closed the door behind them.
“Can I offer you something to drink?” Dane said, gesturing to a wet bar across the room.
“No, thank you,” Malcolm said, leaning back in the chair, waiting.
“I’m not sure where to begin.” Patrick stood up, crossed the room to the bar, and poured something in a rock glass as Malcolm watched his every move. “Are you sure?” he asked, holding the decanter toward Malcolm.
“The last drink I took landed me in the back of a pickup truck and hauled across town. Think I’ll pass.”
“I am sorry about that. I simply asked that you be brought to me. I’m afraid the meaning behind my request must have been misunderstood.”
Malcolm did an internal eye roll. When he didn’t respond, the Alpha continued.
“I understand you stopped by earlier, concerning the little job you’ve been doing for us.” Now they were getting somewhere.
“Yes,” Malcolm replied. “I’ve been watching Jessica Sweet for a while now, and I’d like to know why.”
Patrick walked around the room, settling back in the equally large chair behind his desk. He picked up a small, worn piece of paper, looked at it, and returned it to the desk.
“Until now, you were content to play favorite pet to the girl, and to collect a considerable fee for your troubles. Why the sudden curiosity?”
Malcolm leaned forward, prepared to say something flippant, but he hesitated. The Alpha was watching him, searching for something. Malcolm had a feeling what he said and how he said it was very important, so he considered a moment before responding.
“Jessica is—unique,” he said cautiously. “As I’ve mentioned in my reports, she possesses a skill unlike any I’ve seen before.”
“The visions,” the woman spoke from the sofa.
“Yes,” Malcolm replied, wondering again about her purpose in this meeting. “Her visions are more often than not about the Vampires, one in particular, and it concerns me that she is so closely connected to them.” Patrick leaned toward him, matching Malcolm’s movements.
“You know of her connection to the Sorcerer situation a few months back, correct?” Patrick nodded, and Malcolm asked, “Am I correct that the young Were she rescued was your child?” The woman gasped from the corner, but Malcolm ignored her, keeping eye contact with the Alpha.
“Yes,” he replied after a moment. “It was our daughter, Allie. And you must know that we are beyond grateful to the girl for her hand in rescuing our young. You can have no concept of the gratitude and relief we feel toward her. That is why we hired you, to protect her, and to keep us informed should any danger come her way.”
Something flickered through the Alpha’s eyes, and Malcolm sat up straighter. He was not exactly lying—Malcolm could smell a lie as well as any wolf—but he was leaving something out. Besides…
“You hired me before the Sorcerers’ presence was known. Before she was in any trouble at all. Why? And if you are so grateful, why does your wife treat her as a pariah?”
Patrick glanced at his wife with a small shake of his head, and returned his focus to Malcolm.
“Why do you care so much, feline? Should I be worried that you have crossed a line in your duties?”
“No lines have been crossed.” Yet, Malcolm added to himself. “As I said, she’s special, and as far as I can see, of no concern to the wolves.” Dane was looking at him, studying him, and Malcolm probably should have left it at that, but he didn’t.
“She protects all creatures, even those of us who don’t deserve it. She would give her life for a simple stray cat, not to mention the fact that she nearly died saving one of you. If you thin
k anyone could be around her night and day, and not become protective of her, you have no clue the kind of human she is.”
Patrick leaned back in his chair and frowned.
Yep. Should have quit while he was ahead.
“I’m afraid your services are no longer required,” Patrick said after a pause, and his wife made a small noise from the corner. “Your final deposit will be wired immediately.”
Malcolm was on his feet, ready to defy the wolves. He didn’t need their money. He only needed Jessica. But before he could speak, the Alpha added, “And Malcolm, stay away from her. Your services are no longer needed, but she will still be watched. If I hear you’ve been anywhere near her property, there will be consequences.”
Patrick rested a hand on his desk, running a finger along the edge of the paper he had held earlier. Malcolm opened his mouth to argue, to threaten, but closed it again when the paper caught his eye. It wasn’t a piece of paper Patrick was toying with. It was a worn photograph, identical to one Malcolm had seen every day for the past few months.
At Jessica’s.
Chapter Sixty-One
“R aven?” Jessica asked, turning to look at him. There was a smear of blood on her mouth that looked divine, and Raven had to fight the urge to kiss it from her lips. After rearranging the pillow, he settled her back, then moved to check the wound beneath the dish towel.
“Raven, what just happened?” She was shaking, but that could be from blood loss. Raven’s blood didn’t replace hers, merely made her system work harder to repair and resupply. She could still be a bit out of it.
“Rest, amante. Let me see what we’ve done.” He pulled the towel away from her shoulder and was pleased to see the bleeding had stopped. It would take some time—hours, not days—but the wound would heal and she would be as good as new. Physically.
