by Lori Sjoberg
Once the plans were hammered out and the meeting adjourned, Adam drove Marlena to her apartment to pack some of her things. She spent the night at his home, in his bed. In his arms. She’d cried about Cassie, and he’d held and consoled her, gently stroking her silky blond hair while she wept against his shoulder. When the tears dried up he’d kissed her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose. And when he’d kissed her lips, she kissed him back, and they made love slowly. Tenderly. Her climax came with his name on her lips, and afterward she fell asleep snuggled against him, his heart so full his chest hurt.
He stroked his hand over the curve of her hip, and she made a low purring sound in her sleep. Already, he wanted her again, but his kitten needed rest. The past couple days had taken their toll, and he hated seeing her so stressed and exhausted. He’d give anything to make it all go away because he missed the spark in her eyes.
One thing he knew for sure: There was no way he’d ever let her go.
Without a doubt, he loved her. Bone-deep, real-deal, she-meant-more-than-air-to-him love. Were his feelings for her a side effect of the mate bond? Honestly, he didn’t think so, but even if they were, he didn’t give a damn. Even now, he felt the bond pulsing between them, so much a part of him he really didn’t notice it unless he was paying attention.
In his mind, he was already mapping out where her stuff would fit in his house. She didn’t have a lot, so it wasn’t very hard. It wouldn’t take much to clear out half of his closet space, and her dresser would fit next to his. And since most of the stuff in his living room was trashed, her furniture could easily take its place.
Of course, that was assuming she felt the same way. For all he knew, she might view their relationship as one with no strings attached. His instincts told him that wasn’t the case, but he wouldn’t know for sure until she told him one way or the other. But with everything going on with her daughter, he wasn’t about to broach the subject. No, he’d cool his heels until things settled down before making any kinds of declarations.
Giving in to the pull of fatigue, Adam closed his eyes. For better or for worse, tomorrow promised to be an eventful day. He only hoped the coven’s plans worked.
Chapter 24
Fresh from the shower, Adam walked out of the bedroom in time to see Marlena bent at the waist, staring into his almost-empty refrigerator.
She was wearing one of his old white T-shirts, the hem hanging halfway to her knees. Through the worn fabric, he could see the outline of her panties stretched over her sweet, juicy backside. She looked over her shoulder at him, and the smile she gave weakened his knees.
“No offense, but you really need to stop by the grocery store.”
“Sorry. It’s been kind of crazy around here lately.”
Now there was the understatement of the century. After everything that had happened this week, it was a wonder he could still think straight.
Before he tried talking Marlena into moving in, he needed to do some serious home improvements. His woman deserved to live in a house that didn’t look like it was in the middle of a war zone. He still hadn’t patched the bullet holes in the walls, and although he’d scrubbed it a half dozen times, the demon stain by the sliding glass door was starting to smell really funky. Buford wouldn’t even go near the spot, which spoke volumes, considering he’d rolled in a dead armadillo a month ago.
Adam walked up behind Marlena, wrapped his arms around her waist, and eased her back against his chest. Damn, she smelled good, and he hungered to taste her. Dipping his head, he nuzzled her neck, and she made a soft purring sound that never failed to make him harder than concrete.
“Hmm. I like the smell of my soap on your body.” He grazed his teeth over her skin and was rewarded with a sigh and a shiver. But when he slid his hands down to the hem of her shirt, she wriggled out of his arms.
“Visiting hours start at ten,” she reminded him. “We need to leave in less than twenty minutes.”
Worry clouded her eyes and tightened her jaw, and for what had to be the thousandth time, he wished there was something he could do to make Cassie better.
According to Ruby, the witch wasn’t on any of her lists of pending terminations, but those lists only included people who lost their lives through unnatural means such as accidents, murder, and suicide. The souls of those who died of natural causes crossed to the afterlife without the aid of a reaper, the process so seamless it barely registered on their radar. If Marlena’s daughter suffered from heart failure while in the hospital, he’d never know when it was coming.
Adam cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. He wanted to go with her to visit Cassie, but he had three souls on his docket today and all of the other reapers were too busy to pick up the slack. The last soul on his schedule was fated to die around three, which gave him plenty of time to pick up Marlena and drive them both to the coven’s gathering.
He brushed his lips over hers. “You better hurry up and get dressed. If we leave early enough, we’ll have enough time to stop for breakfast on the way to the hospital.”
While Adam fulfilled his duties as a reaper, Marlena sat vigil at Cassie’s bedside. She watched over her daughter, who was still in a coma with her breathing aided by a ventilator. A nurse came in every twenty or thirty minutes to check her vitals or replace an IV bag with a fresh one. Dr. Chan showed up around one o’clock, and Marlena grilled him about Cassie’s prognosis.
“I wish I could tell you more,” the doctor said, his voice low as if he was worried that Cassie might overhear him. “The CT scan shows the swelling in her brain has decreased slightly from yesterday. But her white blood cell count is extremely low, which puts her at a high risk for infection. If the count doesn’t increase in the next two to three hours, we’ll have to give her a transfusion.”
If Marlena’s blood were compatible with Cassie’s, she would have donated every last drop. But shifter blood was Rh positive, and her daughter’s blood type was O negative.
“How about her other injuries?” she asked. “Are they healing like they should?”
“There’s been no significant change in her condition.” The doctor paused, as if trying to decide how to couch the next bit of news. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to give you unrealistic expectations. Your grandmother suffered severe blunt-force trauma to over seventy percent of her body. It would be difficult enough for a young, healthy adult to survive. At her age …” His voice trailed off. “The odds aren’t on her side.”
Marlena bit her tongue to stop from telling the doctor what she thought of his odds. She knew he was only giving an honest prognosis, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.
“Thank you,” she said, trying to keep the hostility from her voice but failing miserably. She glared darts at his retreating back as he exited the room. The door closed, leaving her and Cassie alone with the rhythmic sound of the ventilator and the steady beep of the diagnostic equipment.
Heart heavy, Marlena moved to the side of the bed. Gently, she picked up Cassie’s hand, careful not to disturb the IVs administering medication. The witch’s skin was darkened with bruises and felt cool and dry to the touch.
“Come on, baby,” Marlena murmured. “You survived the Nazi occupation of Paris. Pulling through this should be a piece of cake.”
No response, and the silence was deafening. She stood beside Cassie, searching for signs of improvement, until Adam returned a couple hours later.
He came up beside her, close but not touching, and just knowing he was there gave her strength. “How’s she doing?” he asked.
“About the same.” She twisted her neck to look in his direction and offered a weak smile. There were shadows in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, and it pained her to see him so troubled. “Rough day?”
“You could say that.” He gripped her free hand, his fingers twining with hers. “You about ready to go?”
She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Visiting hours don’t end until six.”
�
�Yes, but we’re meeting the coven at seven, and I’m betting you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.”
Busted. She shrugged. “I wasn’t hungry.” Which was the truth. Aside from chocolate, she’d never been much of a stress eater. Just the opposite—her appetite plummeted whenever she got upset.
Adam gave her a pointed look. “Kitten, you have to eat.”
“I know, I know.” Her throat constricted and her vision blurred as she stared down at Cassie’s still form. “I just hate leaving her like this.”
Moving closer, Adam eased her into his arms, and she rested her head against his chest. His heartbeat drummed against her ear, and the calm, rhythmic sound soothed her nerves. God, she was tired, both physically and emotionally, and it felt so good to lean on someone, if only for a little while.
“We’ll come back as soon as we’re finished with the coven,” he said, his breath warm against her hair. “And if the nurse gives us any trouble, I’ll pull the old Jedi mind trick on her again.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
Samuel watched while Adam and Marlena exited the hospital and walked into the visitor parking lot.
About damn time, he thought with growing impatience. He’d been waiting for the shifter to leave so he could finally take care of business. He stepped inside the elevator, crinkling his nose when two nurses joined him and hit the button for the floor above his intended destination. The taller one reeked of grease and tobacco, and Samuel couldn’t help but wonder how a health-care professional could knowingly poison his own body.
At last, the double doors slid open and Samuel entered the critical care floor. With his shoulders squared and head held high, he strode down the hall and past the nurse’s desk, his body exuding enough confidence and power to deter anyone from questioning his presence. When he reached room 542, he opened the door and walked inside.
The room was quiet, save for the sound of a ventilator pumping air into the patient’s lungs. Dozens of get-well cards and gifts crowded a small table by the window. A chair sat next to the hospital bed where a cream-colored blanket was draped over the sleeping patient.
“So. You’re the witch who restored my powers.” He sniffed, and his nose wrinkled at the sharp scent of disinfectant. “It’s a wonder so much strength can reside in such a fragile body.”
He would have come earlier if not for the mountain of business in dire need of his attention. Being absent from his post for nearly a week had caused ripples in the fabric of destiny. He’d worked like a fiend to repair the damage, somehow managing to get it all fixed before Fate noticed anything was wrong.
Samuel blinked, and for a split second, he saw the witch as she appeared in her prime. Young. Vivacious. Breathtaking. Her hair had been the color of rich mahogany, her olive skin flawless and toned. The sight stirred something inside him that words failed to describe, but then he blinked again, and she returned to her current state.
He inched closer to the bed and gripped the rail, his gaze taking in the myriad of equipment that kept the old woman from expiring. She clung to life with a tenacity that impressed him, but it was a battle she was destined to lose. Maybe not today, but soon. Her pulse was weak and her lungs were failing, and it wouldn’t be long until the rest of her organs shut down.
But like it or not, he owed Cassandra Walther a debt. Ironic, considering his history. He shuddered to think of what might have happened to him if she hadn’t come to his aid.
“A life for a life,” he murmured. It was only fair. Fate would be angry with him for altering the witch’s destiny, but she’d understand once he explained the situation.
Placing a hand over the witch’s sternum, he focused his energy to heal the worst of her internal injuries. Lungs. Heart. Liver. He couldn’t replace what had already been lost, but the remaining organs were restored to peak operating condition. When her lungs were strong enough to function on their own, he gently eased the tube from her throat and placed it at the top of the bed.
There. That ought to do it. He left the broken leg to heal on its own—as it was, her recovery might be hailed as a miracle, and he didn’t want to draw even more attention to her.
The witch coughed, and then her eyes cracked open. She lifted a hand to rub her throat, most likely raw from the breathing tube. When she spoke, her voice sounded rough and raspy.
“Do I know you?”
“No, my dear. Not directly. Now go to sleep. You need your rest.”
A mental nudge, and the witch drifted off, and he wasted no time wiping all memories of him from her mind. After all, he had a reputation to protect. If word ever got out that he healed the old woman, people might think he’d gone soft.
Satisfied with his handiwork, Samuel turned and strode out the door. Now that he’d tied off that particular loose end, he had one other matter to attend to.
The sun was beginning its descent over the horizon when Adam and Marlena pulled into the driveway leading up to what used to be Cassie’s house. The witches had already assembled by the ruins of the back patio, each dressed in the long, flowing ivory robes that the coven wore when performing rituals.
Twenty-four hours had passed since they’d last visited the house, but the sight of the burned-out ruins still managed to twist her insides in knots. Insurance would replace the building and its contents, but it could never bring back the thousands of fond memories shared within those four walls.
“Are you okay?” Adam asked from the driver’s seat, the lines of his face etched with concern. He laid a hand on her denim-covered thigh, his touch light and reassuring.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She met his gaze, and her heart swelled with emotion. If it wasn’t for him, she probably would have fallen apart over the past couple days. He’d been her rock, her shoulder to cry on, holding her hand, making sure she slept and ate, and giving her strength when she was all tapped out.
Leaning over the console, she pressed her lips to his, pouring all of her emotions into the kiss. Her love. Her affection. Her trust. He kissed her back, his hand curling around the nape of her neck as a low growl rumbled in his throat.
“Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?” he asked when she pulled away.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess for being so good to me.”
The smile he gave her was wicked. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, kitten.”
From the corner of her eye, she noticed some of the witches watching them, and her face flushed with heat. “We better get moving before they start shouting suggestions.”
He laughed as they climbed out of the truck.
“Thank you all for coming,” Marlena said as she approached the group and was greeted by a chorus of hellos, how are you doings, and questions regarding Cassie’s condition. She paused long enough to give them a quick update before making her way to where Gina was preparing for the spell. Absorbed in her task, the witch barely acknowledged Marlena’s presence as she lit the black candles and placed them on the ground in a circular pattern.
“Are you sure this will work?” Marlena asked as the witch set the last candle down. She wanted justice for her daughter, but not at the expense of the others.
Gina straightened and turned toward her. Her eyes were hard, her expression grim, and her body nearly vibrated with tightly leashed energy. “There are no absolutes in the craft, but our collective power should be enough to bind the being who hurt Cassandra.”
And if it worked, Gina would rise considerably within the ranks of the coven. Marlena pushed the cynical thought aside, choosing instead to accept the witch’s actions at face value.
The rumble of an engine caught her attention, and she glanced over her shoulder in time to see a classic Dodge Challenger pull up alongside the curb.
The driver’s door opened and Dmitri stepped out. He was dressed in black from head to toe and wore a load-bearing vest packed with ammo. A shoulder holster housed a big black Glock, while pistols were strapp
ed to his legs. He opened the trunk, pulled out two large bags, slung one over each shoulder, and started in their direction.
“What is he doing here?” Marlena asked Adam, not bothering to mask her anger.
“Relax, he’s here to help.”
Her temper spiked. “I don’t want his help.”
“And I don’t want you risking your life. But since you insist, you’ll need all the help you can get, and that includes him. I know he’s not your favorite person in the world, but he’s absolute hell in a gunfight.”
As much as she hated to admit it, Adam was right. Now wasn’t the time to let grudges get in the way of a little old-fashioned vengeance.
“Thanks for coming,” Adam said when Dmitri got close. “Where’s Gwen?”
“Back at the house with Ruby. She’s not fighting in her condition.” His gaze shifted left to Marlena. “How’s Cassandra?”
“Still in critical condition.” The memory of Cassie in the hospital flashed through her mind and strengthened her resolve.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” His expression didn’t change, but the muscle along his jaw flexed. “Don’t worry, we’ll avenge her.”
“How can you be so damn sure when we don’t even know what we’re dealing with?”
“Because I’ve never met anything that can’t be killed.”
Dmitri set the bags on the ground and yanked the zippers open. Inside were two shotguns, a machine gun, boxes upon boxes of ammunition, and what appeared to be a flamethrower. He opened a compartment inside one of the bags and pulled out a half dozen grenades. “Here,” he said as he handed Adam a shotgun and a box of ammunition. “There’s a shoulder strap in the other bag.”
“No weapon for me?” Marlena asked.
“Do you want one?” Dmitri looked up as he slipped on the backpack carrying the fuel for the flamethrower. Something shifted in his eyes, something dark and dangerous, and at that moment she believed all of the stories she’d heard about him over the years. “No, I didn’t think so. You prefer to work with your hands.”
