Carinian's Seeker

by T. J. Michaels

  “Look, bitch, I don’t know what’s up with you and Bix, and I don’t want to know. But don’t be coming in here fucking with me because you have a problem with him,” Carin fumed. The effort it took to be angry made her head throb. “If you want Bix, you can have him.”

  “I think your mate will have something to say about that.”

  The soothing female voice floating to her from across the room was unfamiliar to Carin. She managed to lift her head enough to see who spoke, but the effort made the stitches in both the side of her neck and across her stomach pull and sting. Her head swam and the room began to move a bit sideways. Her stomach churned from the strange sensation. Bile rose up in her throat as she prayed for her stomach to settle. The last thing she wanted was to start heaving and tear loose anything temporarily held together with stitches.

  The owner of the voice came into full view and stood next to her bed. The woman had a grace and quiet dignity Carin had only seen in much older women, yet this lady didn’t look a day over forty. Petite, her short crop of platinum blonde curls framed a perfect pear-shaped face with eyes the color of Caribbean seas. Her skin was smooth and silky, like the cream she wished she could have on top of her latte in the mornings. In a word, the woman was stunning. Carin watched in awe as the woman measured out a pale yellow liquid into a mug with small manicured hands. The yellow stuff was mixed with little white sugar-looking crystals, and dumped into a larger steaming cup of something else.

  “Hello, Carinian. I am Alaana Serati, Matriarch of Clan Serati. How are you feeling?”

  “Like hammered shit,” Carin muttered, then clamped her lips together as the salty precursor to vomit filled her mouth.

  “Do you remember anything, or feel like talking?”

  Hell no, she didn’t feel like talking. Not about all the pain she’d felt when those vamps worked her over, nor did she want to discuss waking up to find a spiteful what’s-her-name standing over her wishing her dead. Oh yes, she remembered just about everything, but didn’t want to voice it. That would make it too real. Just the memories of those vamps’ hands on her body made her skin crawl. The inside of her jaw twinged with the threat of the bitter fluid rising up her throat. God, she didn’t have the energy to throw up right now.

  “Ewww.” She shuddered, taking as deep a breath as she could considering the snug binding wrapped around her chest. “I feel like I have to throw up.”

  Alaana stepped close, eased an arm around Carin’s back and helped her sit up enough to drink. Carin’s eyebrows would have flown upward but even they hurt like hell. She was a muscular, good-sized woman, but this petite blonde lifted her with a strength that belied her small frame. She held Carin with one arm and pressed the steaming mug to her lips. Sighing with comforted relief as the hot liquid, honey sweet with a hint of ginger and lemon, soothed her stomach straight away.

  “Thank you. If there’s anything I hate, it’s throwing up. I actually hate it more than I hate doing laundry.”

  Alaana chuckled good-naturedly and said, “It must be the same for women everywhere.” She then turned her stern eyes on a scowling Natasha. “Why are you here?”

  “I just came to welcome our guest,” Natasha said, backpedaling faster than a one-legged man on a tricycle.

  “In her condition? She is covered with bandages and stitches and you came to meet her now?”

  Carin watched Natasha’s mouth work but nothing came out as she shrugged stupidly at Alaana’s continued questioning.

  “These are Bix’s private apartments. Did he give you permission to bother his mate?”

  Mate? There was that word again. Carin’s eyebrows tried to rise once more, but they throbbed as much as the rest of her body. What was it with this mate business? Bix mentioned vampire bonding and mating, but he’d never gotten into the mechanics of how it worked. Nor had he asked her to be his mate.

  Natasha backed down, but even an idiot couldn’t have missed the cold glint in her emerald eyes as she lowered them to the carpet. And Carin was no idiot.

  “You may leave now, Natasha,” Alaana said with a dismissive wave of her hand, not bothering to look towards the chastised woman to see if she obeyed. “Now, Carin, I will help you finish this. It’s tea mixed with some healing herbs and a dash of modern medicine.”

  “Huh?” Carin asked, genuinely unsure of what was just said to her.

  “In short, it’s tea with a powerful painkiller in it. Thankfully, Bix was able to get some of his blood into you. It will aid the healing process, but it doesn’t do much for the pain. And by the way, welcome to both our retreat and our clans.”

  The older woman’s words had a deeper meaning than their simplicity implied. Carin felt it all through her soul. Alaana’s smile made her feel at ease and welcome. It was the first time in a long while she felt a part of something other than her own little one-some.

  A few seconds later, Bix burst through the door at full speed with a tall, beautiful and equally blond tank right on his heels. Oh my God, he was real. She thought she’d dreamed him up when she lay bleeding on her driveway. So he had been there with Bix, fighting for her, trying to save her. But who was he?

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Bix skidded to a halt next to the bed, almost knocking Alaana over in his haste. “I heard you calling me. What’s happened?”

  Alaana greeted the golden-haired hunk first. “Hello, Alaan. I’m happy you’re home though I wish the circumstances had been different.”

  Carin ignored Bix for the moment, too entranced by the Alaan person stepping forward to take Alaana’s dainty little hand in one of his huge ones. He leaned over and planted a kiss on her palm. Guess chivalry wasn’t dead.

  After doting on him a moment, Alaana turned to a wide-eyed Carin—or as wide as the swelling would allow—and introduced her.

  “Carin, this is my son, Alaan. He and Bix brought you here.”

  So, one of her avenging angels was Bix’s friend? And boy was this blond giant a good-looking devil, uh, angel. Woo, goodness, the man was fine. Dayum! Bix’s grumbling snagged her attention away from Alaana’s gorgeous son.

  Finally addressing Bix’s original question, the Matriarch answered for Carin. “There is nothing wrong now. However, Natasha was here pestering your mate.”

  “What?” His hand held Carin’s tightly as he looked directly at Alaana.

  “From the looks of it we’ve got a little warrior on our hands. Your mate was ready to skin Natasha alive, and in her condition, too,” Alaana declared proudly.

  “That woman said you and her have a thing going on,” Carin slurred. Wow, that tea stuff sure worked fast. But she couldn’t go to sleep yet. She had to know what was going on between Bix and the green-eyed bitch on wheels.

  “Damn it, even in my own apartments I can’t protect you,” he seethed.

  “Down’t be ridilicus, uh, ridiculous, Bix. ‘Course yulve pa-tected me.” Oh yes, she was fading fast along with the pain already gone from a flaming roar down to a muted purr.

  “What the hell is Natasha’s problem? I’ve never led her to believe I wanted her. Hell, I’ve never even slept with her,” Bix growled.

  That was all a semi-awake Carin needed to know. She gave up the fight to whatever anti-nausea pain reliever Ms. Alaana had given her. Besides, the drug had been winning for the past few moments anyway.

  May as well throw in the towel. She really hoped she didn’t snore.

  His attention on Carin’s peaceful, but swollen, purple and black face, Bix felt a pang of guilt once more. He could have lost her that night. He’d been out there chasing phantoms and shadows while Sidheon tried to kill his woman. Damned rogue. Just wait, he’d get him soon enough.

  Glad Carin was asleep, a furious Bix herded Alaana and Alaan out of the bedroom door and into the oversized living room. He’d been in the middle of laying down his strategy for capturing Sidheon to the Council when he’d heard Carin’s panic in his head as clearly as if she’d been standing there. He’d run out of the Counc
il Chambers without even excusing himself, spurred on by the fear pulsing through their newly forming bond. She’d been afraid of someone—Natasha. How dare the woman threaten his mate. Hell, he’d skin her himself.

  Bix paced a hole in the thick carpet in front of the cold white brick fireplace. He yanked his fingers through his hair and blew out a breath laden with frustration. His jaw ticked double time as he tried to get his anger under wraps. He was a Seeker. He could do better than this. Come on, Bix, get it together, man.

  After a moment, he dropped onto the couch next to Alaan. The Matriarch of Clan Serati sat facing them in a matching loveseat.

  “Thanks for looking after Carin, Matriarch.”

  “My pleasure, but she was doing a pretty good job of looking after herself before I fed her the sedative.” With a smile and a regal nod, Alaana rose and headed for the door. Alaan stood in respect to see her out. She stopped and turned a stern gaze on Bix. “I expect to receive a date for the joining ceremony, Bix. Alaan, keep him out of trouble in the meantime.”

  Bix’s mouth fell open. When he’d burst through the door, he’d been so concerned about Carin he’d blown off and forgotten about the Matriarch calling Carin his mate. Well, he sure as hell remembered now. But how had the Matriarch known?

  Alaana smiled at Bix’s bemused expression.

  “I am not a vampire Elder of Clan Serati for nothing, Bix. Very little gets by this old bird. The connection between you two is obvious.”

  Bix’s expression didn’t change. In fact, he was more amazed than ever.

  Alaana chuckled. “Anyone can see she’s your mate. It’s all over you both,” she said cheerily, and waltzed right out the door without a backward glance.

  Bix turned and let his fist fly towards Alaan’s gut. The cheeky bastard was laughing at him.

  “Good morning, sweetheart.”

  “Mmmm, owww. If you say so,” Carin whimpered and tried to pull in a deep breath, wincing when her lungs and all the sore spots on her chest burned. The stitches pulled, but at least the pain was manageable at the moment.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Same as when Alaana asked me last time, like hammered shit. Where exactly are we?” she mumbled, wishing she could raise her hand to scratch at her scalp. Before she could attempt to exercise the thought, Bix buried his fingers in her hair and took care of the itch for her. There was a lot to be said for this psychic boyfriend stuff.

  “Psychic boyfriend, eh?” Bix chuckled. “And to answer your question, we’re at V.C.O.E. North American headquarters in Montana. We have a huge estate in the Flathead Valley on about four hundred and fifty acres, just west of Kalispell.”

  “Is this your place?”

  “I keep this apartment for when I’m here on Council business. I have my own spread about a half hour chopper ride north of here.” He smoothed her wild tangle of hair away from her swollen face, and buried his fingers with gentle strokes as he spoke softly to her.

  “Bix, kiss me. Very gently, please,” she asked sleepily.

  He complied, lightly pressing his full lips to hers. Each shallow breath brought with it his natural masculine scent. The overlay of clean musky soap tickled her nose. She inhaled again, appreciating the pleasant respite from the strong antiseptic smells clinging to her skin.

  “Mmmm, thank you for that,” she whispered.

  “What do you remember, sweetheart?” Bix continued to scratch lovingly at her scalp.

  “I was about to open my car door when I got cold cocked by a mean-assed vampire with big teeth,” she finished on a contented sigh. “That feels really good. Does a bath come with it?”

  “We’ll eventually get to the bath, with bubbles if you like. I’ll even wash your hair for you. But right now I need to know what happened. Where the hell were you going at that time of night?”

  “I couldn’t sleep. I was on my way to see you to tell you I’d decided to help with your little rogue problem.”

  “You were on your way to my house? In the fucking middle of the night? Damn it, Carin.”

  “I know, Bix, I know. It was stupid but it’s a bit late for recriminations. Besides, it makes my head hurt.” And that was all she had to say about it. Carin was grateful for the quiet knock on the apartment door.

  Bix’s grumpy, “Who the hell is it now?” made it clear he was reluctant to get up. Easing out from under the blankets, he left the bed and pulled on a comfy-looking pair of worn, black sweatpants. Carin watched his gloriously naked, oh-so-proportioned perfection move over to the dresser, grab a shirt and head towards the bedroom door. His powerful back muscles tensed and bunched as he slipped a white T-shirt over his head. The man was so sinfully handsome, and she felt swollen and bruised. Probably looked like a multi-colored Pillsbury Dough-girl. She sighed dejectedly. Even breathing hurt.

  When Bix returned, a friendly faced older man in a light blue smock and clogs strode in behind him with a big medical bag. She was sure it was filled with goodies just for her.

  “Hello, Carinian. I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Dr. Lyons. We’ve been taking care of you the past few days. How are we feeling today?”

  “Hold it,” she squawked, “I’ve been here how long?”

  “Three days now. We kept you heavily sedated after the surgery,” the doctor replied.

  “Surgery? Three days? Three whole days?” At Dr. Lyons nod, she lost it. “I can’t stay here. I need to go home. I’ve got to get back to work. I can’t just play hooky from work.”

  She squirmed, trying to ease towards the edge of the bed. Her eyes tried to widen with a mix of panic and pain, but they were too swollen. What the hell was she thinking trying to get out of bed? Bix allowed the heat of his temper to flare up the link between them. She shouldn’t be moving around unnecessarily. He wanted to keep her still but there wasn’t one place on her body he could touch without causing her pain, except the top of her head. Grabbing a handful of the thick cottony locks, he held her gently against the pillows.

  “Carin, you’re not in any condition to go anywhere. You feel like hammered shit because you look like hammered shit. Now. Be. Still.”

  “Oh, that was just cold,” she ground out. “Just full of compliments, aren’t you, Bix?” “Bastard.”

  Bix grinned, hearing her sentiment loud and clear in his head, glad her spirit hadn’t been diminished by her ordeal. He moved out of the way and let the doctor examine her. Dr. Lyons pulled the covers back and Bix’s heart slammed up into his throat. God, she was a mess. Her bandages were bloodied through, and the flesh around her stitches was red, swollen and raw. The scent of her blood clung to the sheets and filled the air. He felt his temper escalate once again.

  “Bix, cut it out,” Dr. Lyons said with a stern look.

  Solely focused on Carin, Bix looked up at the edge in the doctor’s voice, unsure of what the man was talking about. Cut it out? Cut out what?

  Carin’s thoughts pounded into his head. “You’re growling at the doctor, Bix.”

  Bix felt her discomfort and knew if she opened her mouth, she’d start screaming as the doctor poked at her wounds and changed the dressings. His control stretched to the limit, hearing her thoughts and feeling every ounce of her distress. If only he could take her place, spare her every sharp pull, every deep ache. Unable to keep his fists from flexing in agitation, he clamped down on his bottom lip, uncaring that his fangs were in the way. Blood trickled from the puncture wound.

  “Bix, it hurts but he’s got to change the bandages, so don’t be upset with Dr. Lyons. All that growling is making me edgy. And tell your teeth to go away. I’m not in the mood to see them right now.”

  His gut clenched with one particularly ragged cry. She was trying so hard to be brave and was doing a better job at it than he was. Finally Bix couldn’t stand her suppressed screams.

  “Dr. Lyons, give her something for the pain and then continue the exam.”

  “Can’t I go without the meds today? I feel well enough.” She pu
shed each word through gritted teeth. But Bix hadn’t missed the way she bit down on her tongue. Hell, if she clamped down on it any harder he was sure she’d sever the thing clean off. Her chest rose and fell with her panting, but why she believed she could get anything past him, he would never know. He knew her stitches were on fire, her head throbbed, and she had constant nausea. Dr. Lyons had only checked the stitches on her neck and irrigated the knife wound on her shoulder, and she was a quaking wreck.

  And the crazy woman thought she was going without meds today? Hell no. But before Bix could say anything, Dr. Lyons calmly removed his blood-smeared examination gloves, tossed them into a biohazard bag and marched back to the side of the bed to call her bluff. Good man.

  “Well, Carinian…”

  “Carin,” she croaked, her trembling voice thick with stifled sobs.

  “Okay, Carin. We can see if you’ll go without meds today. How about I check the stitches across your stomach? If we can do that with relative comfort we can remove your catheter and lay off the pain meds. Of course, if the catheter comes out you’ll have to get up to go to the bathroom. If you can’t walk to the bathroom by yourself we’ll have to send someone in to help you…”

  “Oh, hell no. Touch my stitches and I swear when I get better I’ll hunt you down and give you a rhino-sized enema. Give me the damn meds and get the hell away from me.”

  Dr. Lyons laughed outright.

  Carin clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with mortification. “Oh God, please tell me I didn’t say that out loud.”

  “No, you didn’t, but you’re projecting loud enough for the whole mansion to have heard you.” The doctor chuckled.