Inheritance: (A New Adult Paranormal Romance) (Heart Lines Series Book 2)

by Heather Hildenbrand

  “What’s for me?” Sam’s knuckles went white.

  Mason reached up and fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. When he failed to undo them, Sam reached out and did it for him. Her fingers shook and it was the only thing that kept me from giving into my petty jealousy over the fact that she was undressing another man. I purposely kept my fists open and my palms flat on Sam’s back—in comfort and in an attempt to keep from punching a guy who was clearly already down.

  Finally, I couldn’t take the slow progress. I reached over and batted Sam’s hands out of the way, ripping Mason’s shirt open in one yank.

  Sam gasped and even I could only stare, open-mouthed, at the focal point. Right over his heart, all of the black lines converged to make one picture: a face. Sam’s face.

  “Holy shit,” I said.

  Behind me, a car door slammed and then another. Our team was here.

  I rose and caught their eye, waving them back and into position should this go south. They backed off, their eyes curious and fastened on Sam and Mason on the pavement below me.

  When I was satisfied they were following orders, I looked down again, awed all over by the crazy piece of artwork on Mason’s chest.

  “Mason, who did this to you?” Sam asked.

  “The stories are true,” Mason said, his eyes wild and bloodshot as he looked back and forth between Sam and me. “It’s all true. The god and the goddess. Their wolf baby. And what’s happening now with the infection… The moon god is taking our humanity. It’s not a sickness. And it’s not random. We’re being targeted.”

  He was unfocused. Frantic. But it didn’t make him wrong.

  “Who is behind this?” I asked again.

  He looked right at me, opened his mouth and then closed it again, looking pained.

  A second later, he swiveled and stared at Sam. “Sam, I’m sorry I… It wasn’t my choice. My father had information and sent me to see if it was true. If you were the one they were looking for. When you refused to let me back into your life, I… I didn’t know what to do. I was desperate and she claimed she had answers. But she’s not your friend, okay? Don’t forget that.” His eyes widened and then blurred with tears as he reached for Sam’s hand.

  She gripped his tightly, both of their knuckles white. Mason’s hand was scratched up and marred with bruises. I sniffed him, but came up empty. No other werewolf scent but his own.

  “Give us the name of the person who did this to you,” Sam said and I could hear it in her voice, she was crying too.

  “The ocean god wants to see us all hunted down. He is jealous. They are so jealous of you.” Mason’s glassy gaze flickered to me again. “Take care of her,” he said, his expression contorting like he was in pain.

  Sam shook his shoulder and Mason’s eyes opened again. “Don’t leave, Mason. Listen, we’re going to get you to a hospital. Where are you injured?” she asked, her words frantic as she searched him for some sign of blood or broken skin. But there was none.

  “The lines… it’s not… it’s the imbalance,” he said. The dark lines on his skin seemed to pulse as he spoke, new lines rising to the surface of his skin and forming, growing, winding toward his chest, adding to the details of Sam’s face.

  I watched in awe and total horrified confusion. I had seen some magic in my years as a hunter but never anything like this.

  Sam had mentioned something similar showing up on her friend Bernard before I’d had to put him down. And now Mason. This shit was weird. Mason’s eyelids fluttered and his head lolled sideways, going slack.

  “No!” Sam pressed her hands against his chest, her slender fingers covering the black outline of her own face. She rose up on her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Mason, hang on. I’m going to try—”

  “Sam, no, don’t—” he said weakly, but Sam was already calling something up.

  Wind kicked to a swirling head almost immediately, swallowing the rest of Mason’s words. I leaned in to steady myself against the force of the gale whipping around the three of us. In front of me, Sam was clutching Mason tightly, her lips pressed together until they turned white from the effort.

  Slowly, the black lines along Mason’s veins began to fade to gray. Sam was stiff and unmoving over him, her brow furrowed in a deep concentration. Suddenly, her expression contorted in pain and she cried out.

  White light sprung from the center of her chest and poured downward through her arms. It grew brighter and brighter until I had to squint and then shut my eyes against it.

  Above the howling of the wind, I could hear Sam wailing. I reached for her, not willing to let her be hurt—even if it meant saving Mason. Hell, especially for Mason. Fumbling, I found Sam’s arm and grabbed hold. I grabbed her wrists with both hands and, with a grunt, yanked hard—pulling her free of Mason.

  Sam gave a strangled cry and sagged against me, her body going limp as Mason’s eyes fluttered closed. I noticed his skin had blackened where her hands had been, but I didn’t mention it.

  “Is he—?” Sam scrambled back toward him, peering down anxiously.

  I felt for a pulse and got one, faint and weak but there. “He’s just unconscious,” I said. Sam went limp all over again in relief. “Are you hurt?” I asked.

  She shook her head and I could feel her shoulders shaking as she began to cry. I grabbed her, pulling her close in comfort and to prove to myself she was okay. She’d brought Mason back from the brink of death. Hopefully she hadn’t done enough to damage herself in the process.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sam

  Alex carried me back to the truck. I tried getting myself under control, but instead, I only succeeded in covering his shirt in tears and snot. Mason wasn’t dead but no matter how hard I’d tried, I couldn’t revive him. Even after Alex let me go and I talked him into letting me try again, I couldn’t seem to call the power back. At least not enough to wake him up.

  Now, Mason was essentially gone. And I wasn’t entirely convinced I hadn’t helped him into that coma. I’d seen the dark spots on his skin where I’d touched, though I couldn’t bring myself to show Alex. The guilt pressed down on me like a ton of bricks. Even burying Bernard hadn’t hurt this bad. I’d known Mason. Spent time with him. We’d shared kisses. Touches. Memories.

  And I hadn’t been able to save him.

  Alex climbed into the truck, but instead of setting me down on the bench seat, he cradled me in his lap and just held me, letting me cry.

  I had no idea what to do next. Mason has said she, which meant that whatever had happened to him wasn’t by chance. He was targeted. And whoever she was had undoubtedly done this to others, including Bernard.

  She isn’t your friend, he’d said.

  I needed to ask Alex about it but I couldn’t find my voice through my grief. Alex let me cry without a word, his hand soothing on my back.

  Eventually, the tears slowed and I sniffled quietly as Alex took out his phone and made some calls. First, to Edie who promised to inform Tara and the council.

  Then, he called Mirabelle. I listened while Alex told her I would need to extend my time off from work while we sorted things out. I shuddered as he told her what Mason had said before he’d lost consciousness. There was someone out there who was trying to hurt the werewolves, and through hurting them, she was trying to get to me.

  It felt like a bad dream.

  Mirabelle understood and made Alex promise to bring me by as soon as we felt it was safe. When Alex finished making his calls, he pried himself away long enough to move Mason and his car to the shoulder so other cars could pass. Thankfully, none came. Until finally, a black SUV arrived and three men got out all wearing black jackets that said CHAS in big letters on the back. One of them came forward and spoke to Alex.

  When they broke apart, the three agents fanned out around Mason, poking and prodding. I couldn’t see him from here but I knew where Alex and the other hunters guarding us had dragged him out of sight.

  “What will they do to him?”
I asked when Alex returned.

  He slid in next to me and shut the door, cranking the engine. “They’ll take him back to the CHAS facility in San Francisco,” he said quietly. “His vitals are all stable and they’ll do their best to keep him that way until we can figure this out.”

  He looked over at me and I took in his flushed cheeks and the tired lines around his eyes. Between last night and this morning, the stress was probably making him feel sicker. Although, I knew he’d never admit it. So I didn’t bother to ask. When my hand slid over his arm, I noted the heat emanating from his feverish skin. It was sometimes easy to forget Alex was sick; he hid it so well.

  “We need to get you out of here,” he said. “You ready?”

  I nodded. “Let’s go home,” I said, scooting in closer and pressing against him for comfort as he drove away. The men surrounding Mason and his car blocked my view but I didn’t bother to try and see around them for another glimpse of my friend. I’d almost saved him. Next time would be different, I silently swore. It was time I figured out how to heal. It was time to stop being a victim.

  As Alex drove, I made a silent vow to avenge whatever had been done to Mason Harding—one way or another, I would make it right. It was the first thing the Knowing and I both agreed on. I intended to see it through.

  Chapter Twenty

  Alex

  Sam’s hand was warm in mine. Or maybe that was just the fever. It hadn’t knocked me off my feet yet but it was getting there. I just hoped we could figure out who was gunning for her before then. Mason Harding showing up in the middle of the street hadn’t exactly been my idea of a good time, and I was sorry for what had happened to him, but at least now we knew for sure someone was pulling the strings on this strange infection among the werewolves.

  Honestly, I’d had my suspicions all along.

  Sam seemed to be recovered well enough by the time we pulled to a stop outside the hunter clinic. She sniffled and sat up, peering at the nondescript building. “What are we doing here?” she asked.

  “They’ll bring Mason here. I figured we should at least wait and let them do a full check on him. See if they can tell us anything. And we could both use a shower,” I said, parking near the door and cutting the engine. When she still didn’t move, I turned to look at her and added as gently as I could, “We can’t go home until the team does a full sweep and even then... If Mason was right and whoever is doing this knows you, then we can’t go back to anywhere we’ve been. It’s too risky.”

  She nodded and I was glad to see her tears had stopped. Her eyes were puffy and red and her cheeks were flushed. I reached my hand out to run my knuckles down her smooth skin and she sighed. “I’m okay,” she said.

  I didn’t answer.

  No matter how many times she said that, I still wanted to drag her off to safety like a damned caveman. I stared at her for a moment, the mid-morning sun streaming through the windshield and lighting on her black hair and the smooth outline of her cheekbone. Her lips were pink and full, probably also swollen from crying. The flush in her cheeks looked healthy whereas mine…

  God, she was beautiful.

  Soft words were locked in my throat along with all the things I felt for her. An ache had formed in my chest but I suspected it was the venom, not love. Or it could have been both. Either way, our time was almost up. I could feel it, and the knowledge that I was going to lose her pissed me off. I mean, I’d always been a “live for today” kind of guy but this was bull shit.

  “Let’s get cleaned up,” I said hoarsely.

  Sam took my hand, full of that sweet, sweet trust I’d been longing for, and let me lead her inside.

  Thirty minutes later, I’d showered and dressed and reappeared to find Sam standing before the mirror with a hospital-issue comb. The rest of the room I’d borrowed for us was washed in gray and white thanks to the closed blinds hanging in the single small window over the empty hospital bed.

  “Feel better?” she asked, eyeing me through the mirror.

  I tossed my towel into the laundry bin and shot her a smile, even though my heart thudded wildly in my chest. Exhaustion and adrenaline were a heady mix as the venom continued to steal my strength. I’d taken the last of Mirabelle’s elixir two days ago. I hadn’t told anyone it was gone. It wasn’t working anymore anyway—unless you counted the cannabis oil that I’d come to enjoy more than I had expected. I hadn’t mentioned that ingredient to anyone else yet either.

  I shot a glance at the closed door that led to the in-patient hallway. “Anyone bother you?”

  “No, no one,” she assured me. “You didn’t answer my question.” She set her comb aside and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to dodge her on this.

  I sighed, running a hand over my still-wet hair. “I’m managing,” I said. But clearly vague was not an option.

  “Are you still taking the medicine Mirabelle gave you?” she asked.

  I looked up sharply at how easily she’d picked out my thoughts. “Yes,” I said which wasn’t a lie. I had taken it for as long as the bottle had lasted.

  Her eyes narrowed. “How often?”

  Damn. “Often enough,” I said and she glared. “There isn’t any left,” I admitted and then held up a hand when she opened her mouth. “Before you lecture me, you should know that getting more won’t do any good. It’s lost its effectiveness. Or my body has built a tolerance. Either way, it’s not working anymore.”

  Sam’s expression was pained as she laid her hand on my chest. Her hair smelled like hospital shampoo and her skin like bar soap. It was the sexiest scent I could imagine right now—because it was her.

  “Okay, so we go to Mirabelle and tell her that. She can make you—”

  “Mirabelle’s done all she can, Sam.” Her eyes fill with grief and fresh tears and I hate myself for putting them there. “She told me before I left.”

  “You knew when you left that the medicine wouldn’t work much longer?” Now, the grief turned to a quick and biting rage that had her stepping away from me.

  “Maybe?” I winced at the furious stare she fixed on me. This was how I liked her best: raging and beautiful. But not when she aimed it at me.

  “Alex… Ugh!” She threw up her hands. “Why won’t you let me heal you?” she demanded so loud that I glanced at the door.

  We were basically squatting in here and I didn’t really want to get found out in case we had to do it again.

  “I don’t want to talk about this right now,” I said, irritation flooding me like a hot compress. Fever speared through my body, right down to my fingers and toes. Black dots danced at the edges of my vision and I swayed.

  Sam’s temper evaporated and she rushed back to my side, taking my elbow and guiding me toward the freshly made bed. “Here. Just sit,” she murmured, helping me sink onto the thin mattress. But it helped.

  I sighed, sitting in silence as I took in a few deep breaths.

  Slowly, the fog in my vision cleared.

  My equilibrium righted itself.

  I was going to live. For now.

  But then I looked down and caught sight of Sam’s hand on my arm, white lines shooting underneath her skin. My eyes widened and I looked up sharply to her face, eyes closed, expression pinched in concentration. And underneath that, a white light burning as if her heart itself was a bulb.

  My body felt energized, the fever lifting quickly, and I knew—

  “No.” I jumped up, tearing her hand from my arm, and glared at her.

  “Alex, just let me do this for you—”

  “NO!” I yelled this time and she shrank back as if I’d slapped her.

  Guilt immediately tugged my shoulders down and I slumped a little, reaching for her.

  She stood stiffly, expression hard. I deserved that.

  “Sam, I can’t let you do that,” I said.

  “Why?” she asked in a hard voice. “Just tell me why. Are you afraid I’ll make it worse? Like with Mason?”

  “What? No, of course not. Sam, your
magic…” I sighed, every part of me sagging in defeat. She was right; I owed her an explanation. As much as I could bring myself to share. “Your magic has a price. You know that right?”

  Her breath caught and she stared up at me with rounded eyes. “You know about that?” she whispered.

  I reached out and traced the tiny scar on her forehead. “Where did you get this?”

  “It’s… the price,” she said, shrugging as if it were all that simple.

  “When did you get this?” I corrected.

  “In Guam. I… I met Taotaomona, the island spirit, and she gave them all to me. She said that they’d kept it from me until now but that I was ready for it. That I’d come looking, ready to accept my magic, and so they’d offer what they’d held back. Then she gave them to me.”

  “Gave them to you,” I repeated. Sam shrugged and I gave a hard laugh. “You say it like it was nothing. Like it didn’t hurt you.”

  “It did hurt,” she admitted. “It hurt a lot. But I understand. This is the price I pay for helping. For healing.” She touched her arm. “This one was from the day I healed a wounded bird. I was six.” She touched her forehead. “And this one was from the day I saved my aunt Kiwi. She would have died otherwise, Alex.” She hesitated and then her hand moved exactly where I knew it would. To her hip. And even through her shirt, I knew the place she touched held a scar. I’d seen it last night in the woods. And it had killed me.

  “This one is yours,” she said quietly, pulling the fabric up to reveal the raised, white line marring her otherwise smooth abdomen.

  “I hate that I did that to you,” I said, reaching out and running my thumb over it.

  “I don’t,” she said. And then her gaze snapped back to mine suddenly. “Wait. You remember?” She blew out a breath. “Of course you do. I knew it. Why didn’t you say anything when I got my memory back? Why didn’t you tell me I’d healed you before?”