Blood Bond

by Heather Hildenbrand

  “I’m so sorry, Cord.”

  “Don’t be. You took her out. If it weren’t for you …” She didn’t finish. Her body rocked with a violent shudder.

  “I know.”

  “Where’s Olivia?”

  “In a cell in the woods. I’ve got guards on her.”

  “Wes? Derek?”

  “No, they aren’t here yet.”

  “Where the hell are they?”

  “I don’t know. Alex said—”

  “Alex is here? I’m getting a headache.”

  “Would you shut up and let me talk?” She rolled her eye—the one that wasn’t swollen shut—

  and made a show of pressing her lips together. “Olivia’s been keeping hybrids here, only, they were sick. The change wasn’t working on them. They must’ve been part of Miles’s earlier batch. Before he figured out my blood was key. She knew, though, and she made me inject them.”

  “With your blood?” Cord asked.

  “Yes. It healed them. And it sort of … bonded us.”

  “As in, emotional connection? Soul mates and all that crap?”

  “Sort of. I guess. It happened really fast. I broke their connection to Olivia and they turned on her.”

  “Excellent.”

  “I managed to call them off before they killed her. We put her in the cell she had me in.”

  “Damn. Still alive, huh? I almost liked them.”

  I gave her a look and she fell silent. “Alex showed up. He brought Kane’s strike team with him and they attacked. I didn’t know it was him, not until after. Geez, Cord, I bit him.” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the image of Alex’s mangled wrist.

  “You bit him?” She blinked. “Wait … You shifted.” It wasn’t a question. I could hear the understanding—the full impact of my words—hitting her. “Is he all right?”

  “He’s sedated, but I can see the infection already spreading. Fee needs to get here soon.”

  “Where are they? What happened to them?”

  “Alex misled them. I’m not sure how. I think he didn’t want them walking into the middle of things with Kane’s team on rampage.”

  “Why was Kane’s team here? How did they find us?”

  “Alex brought them here.”

  “So nice of him,” she said, twisting her lip. The movement reopened one of the cuts there.

  “Cord, your lip.”

  “I know.” She patted it with her tongue and swallowed the blood. “Listen, it’s getting a little fuzzy around the edges.”

  “You should sleep some more.” I rose from my chair. My backside tingled as feeling replaced the numbness caused by the hard seat. “I’m going to check on Alex.”

  “Hey, Godfrey … I mean, Tara.” I stopped in the doorway and turned back. She licked her lip, her fingers twitching at her sides. “Thanks.”

  I nodded and left.

  *

  A commotion at the front door drew me. I picked up the pace at the sound of raised voices. My legs ached, protesting the movement, though it was nothing like my shoulder. I tried to hold my arm steady against my side as I walked.

  The main door was cracked, a foot wedged in the opening. Chris, in human form, and another Hunter I didn’t know blocked the entrance.

  “Just tell us if she’s in there.” The voice came from the other side of the door, muffled and drowned out by Chris’s yelling, but I’d know it anywhere.

  “Wes!”

  I ran forward and shoved Chris aside. “It’s all right. He’s with me,” I told him.

  The Hunter moved slower, not quite as submissive as Chris. I bumped him the rest of the way with my hip and wrenched open the door. Wes practically fell over the threshold, grabbing me and crushing me to him. The embrace lasted only a second before he yanked me back, his hands on either side of my temples as he inspected me head to toe.

  “Are you all right? Are you okay?” His eyes were wild, unfocused. George, Jack, and Fee shoved through the opening, surrounding me. I could see their confusion as they tried to read the situation. George’s relief flowed through me, matching mine.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Where were you?”

  Wes’s jaw hardened and his eyes turned three shades darker.

  “Alex’s guys jumped us a few miles out. He set us up,” George said. He rubbed his head with his palm. “They knocked me out to kill our connection.”

  I started to ask more but winced at the pressure of Wes’s hand on my shoulder.

  “You’re hurt,” George said, the bond between us an open channel now.

  “My shoulder was dislocated. They had to pop it back into place.”

  “What’s with the scrubs?” George asked.

  “I—my clothes … It’s a long story.”

  “Where the hell are we?” Jack asked, inspecting the room.

  I shrugged. “Not sure. A forgotten bunker of some sort—”

  “What is that?” Wes demanded. He stared at something over my shoulder.

  “This is Chris. He’s—”

  “He’s a hybrid,” George said, his voice filled with surprise, confusion. He dropped back, his hands shaking. He looked ready to shift at any moment.

  “He’s with me,” I said, putting enough authority into it, they all turned and stared.

  “What?” Jack and Wes echoed in unison.

  “Everyone calm down,” Fee said. “Tara, explain. Quickly,” she added glancing at the Hunter—and the CHAS logo on his jacket.

  “If you’ll stop interrupting me,” I said, looking pointedly at Wes and George, “I will.”

  I told them everything that happened, beginning with Olivia forcing me to inject the hybrids and ending with Alex. Kane came up behind me as I told them about the bite. “I swear I didn’t know it was him,” I said. I looked at Fee. “Can you help him?”

  “He deserved it,” Wes said.

  I noticed Fee didn’t correct him. Her expression was hard, but she nodded at me, then Kane. “Where is he?” she asked.

  “This way,” Kane said. “You.” He pointed to the Hunter still hovering near the door. “Stay here and guard the door. No one comes in, no one goes out.”

  Jack took Fee’s hand and shot us a look before they both followed Kane down the hall.

  “Where’s Cord?” Wes asked when they’d gone

  “She’s sleeping. Olivia beat her up pretty bad,” I said. Wes’s and George’s cheeks flushed a matching shade of red. I didn’t need a bond to tell me they were furious. “She’s safe now,” I assured them. “Olivia’s locked up.”

  “We saw her on the way in,” said George. “Derek and Cambria are keeping an eye on the perimeter.”

  “They’re not going to attack any of the hybrids, are they?” I asked, suddenly nervous. I saw Chris take a step forward. Wes noticed it too, and moved so his body blocked mine.

  “Why?” George asked.

  “They’re with me now,” I said. “They can’t hurt them.”

  “They won’t do anything until we say,” George said.

  “Are you sure? Because you have to be sure. I can’t—they can’t hurt them.”

  They exchanged a look. “All right,” George said. “I’ll go let them know.” He slipped out the door and I relaxed. I wasn’t sure how much he suspected, but I knew he’d keep his word.

  “And this guy’s with you?” Wes demanded. One hand gripped mine with the pressure of a vise. He used the other to gesture at Chris who’d backed against the far wall to give me space. He wouldn’t leave unless I ordered it.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “But he’s a hybrid.” It was an accusation, filled with contempt.

  “Yes.”

  Wes opened his mouth, as if to question further.

  A yell pierced the silence. Alex.

  “In a minute,” I promised, letting go of Wes’s hand and running toward the sound.

  Alex lay on a cot in the open area of the clinic. The crowd parted to let me through and my throat closed up at t
he sight of him writhing on the bed. Only Fee held her ground. Her fingers moved over the wound, poking and pulling at the torn skin around his wrist. Her frown left deep lines around her mouth, her brows drawn together in a single line.

  “Alex?” I asked, grabbing his other hand lightly in both of mine.

  He didn’t answer. His eyes looked glassy, his pupils dilated as he tried to focus on my face. He was breathing heavily.

  “Fee?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, Tara. It’s pretty bad,” she said quietly.

  “You can do something,” I insisted. She didn’t respond. Panic speared through me; black dots clouded my vision. I leaned against the cot in order to stay on my feet. This couldn’t happen. Not to Alex. Not because of me. “Freaking do something!”

  “Tara.” Wes put his hand on my shoulder and tried to draw me back. I jerked away. My eyes stung but I refused to let tears fall. Tears were for death. There was no death here.

  “Master?” Chris’s voice, the tone of it, cut through the panic that clouded my brain. I found him standing behind me, unimposing but watchful. His hands were fisted at his sides. I knew, to some extent, he felt my panic, my agony. “What about a transfusion?”

  “Master?” Wes echoed. I ignored him.

  “A …” I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t form the words or finish the thought.

  “It worked for me,” he said. “It can’t hurt.”

  “Yes, yes, I can inject him. Like with you. It healed you. I can heal him.” I rushed to the cabinet and flung it open. I grabbed at a tourniquet, a vial—all of the supplies I’d used before. My hands shook and I dropped the vial. I cursed and grabbed another.

  “Tara, slow down.” It was Fee. “You healed the hybrids from an injection. Alex was bitten.”

  She stood close behind me, blocking my way. She didn’t touch me, which was good. I felt shaky, unsure of my form. I took a deep breath.

  “The hybrids were almost dead and my blood brought them back. I get the catalyst is different but the outcome might not be. I have to try. I’m going to inject him with my blood.” My voice sounded disturbingly calm. I didn’t wait for an answer before I slid around her and sat, working the tourniquet awkwardly around my bicep with one hand. I almost dropped it but another pair of hands appeared and helped secure it. Male hands.

  I looked up at Wes. “Thanks,” I said.

  “What’s next?” he asked.

  “Unwrap that syringe and hand it to me.” He didn’t look up as he worked. Fee stood back, watching, thinking. Worry lines came and went in her forehead, but she didn’t stop me. I met Chris’s eyes across the room. They were steady, an anchor.

  “Now what?” Wes asked.

  “That vial, get it ready.” I stuck my arm without hesitation this time, easing the needle into the vein. I ignored the pinch and watched as blood flowed into the vial. I filled it and pulled it free. “Cap it with this.”

  Wes complied, then handed it back. I dropped the syringe and took the vial. “Fresh syringe,” I said. Wes handed it to me unwrapped and followed me to Alex’s bedside without a word. Fee trailed behind, still looking unsure. I ignored her. She’d given up. They all had. All I could do was this. And so I’d do it.

  I reached for Alex’s arm. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he turned his head side to side, as if fighting off a bad dream. I positioned the needle over the crook in his elbow. My hands shook and the point slipped left. My injured shoulder throbbed at the angle I held it. Another pair of hands came around either side of me. I breathed in the scent of Wes as he pressed himself against me and his hands steadied Alex’s arm.

  “I’m here,” Wes said quietly, “whenever you’re ready.”

  I swallowed the lump in my chest. Alex had betrayed me—betrayed us all. An act that almost got Cord and me killed. He’d swooped in with a team of killers, purposely lured away those who would’ve rescued us, and in the end, had tried to end me with a metal-tipped stake.

  Knowing all of that, Wes stood here, his arms wrapped around me, his hands steady over mine, willing to do whatever it took to save Alex’s life.

  Whatever happened after this day, my choice had been made.

  I blinked against the tears that blurred my vision, adjusted the point of the needle against the vein, and pressed down.

  ***

  Acknowledgements

  This book wouldn’t be complete without a page full of thank-yous. This particular story held the most growing pains for me—I want to bang my head against the wall numerous times. But in the end, it taught me the most about stretching and growing and believing in myself and in my writing. If not for the following people, I might still be at my desk, banging my forehead raw and meaty. You people keep me sane. Or at least keep me looking that way to the rest of the world.

  Angeline Kace, your feedback and always -honest critiques are priceless. This story wouldn’t be this story without your help. Thank you times a zillion. So glad we found each other and recognized the soulmate friendship that awaited us. I’m here for you, always.

  Big, fat thanks to Jennifer Sommersby, my editor, and the third point in our soul mate friendship triangle. The journey is so much sweeter when taken together! I am forever grateful that we have each other to lean on, cry with, rant to.

  Most importantly, I’m so glad my life story includes both of you.

  To my street team, Heather’s Hotshots, you guys rock my world! Especially the ones who’ve been here since the beginning and thus deserve special recognition: Cambria Hebert (Author of Heven and Hell series, and my Cambria’s namesake), Cameron at What the Cat Read, Taneesha Freidus at Diary of a Book Addict, Supagurl Heather, Awesomesauce Amber, Shana at a Book Vacation, Andrea at Bookish Babes, Heather at Nightly Reading, Alli at Magnet 4 Books, Kristen at Seeing Night, Jamie at Bookerella, Tiffany at Escaping One Book at a Time, Book Chatter Cath, Katja at Coffee Mugged, Renee & Stacey at Sassy Book Lovers, Jackie at Sated Faery, Katrina at Page Flipperz, Tanya at All Things Books, Kara at Great Imaginations, Maghon at Happy Tails and Tales (my stalker extraordinaire), Tishia at Paranormal Opinion, Jenni at Alluring Reads, April at Book Hoarder Moms, Emily at Doodle’s Book Blog, Amy at The Book Diaries, Susan Haugland, Sarah at Wondrous Readings, Bianca at Bianca2b, Delphina Reads Too Much, Andrea at Phantasy Crossroads, Emily the Awesamazing at Leave No Book Behind, The Cover by Brittany, Tess at My Pathway to Books, Angela at Chaotic Book Corner, Reviews by Molly, Nikki at Vamps and Stuff, Katy at Book Time For Life, and Heidi at Rainy Day Ramblings.

  Thanks to you guys, Blood Bond and the entire Dirty Blood series are all over cyberspace. You all work so tirelessly, simply because you believe in my ability to craft stories, and I can barely keep up with you. I can’t thank you enough for all you do. Keep it up!

  A special thanks to Angela Stone, my official fan club president and admin of my Facebook fanpage, whose magical powers pull me from the writing cave long enough to extract important details, so she can keep everyone posted, and then promptly instructs that I “get off the flipping Internet and get back to work.” Thank you, Angela! Seriously, I need the shove. I’m so lucky you came along!

  And lastly, thank you to my family: my husband Brian, who cooks and cleans and doesn’t complain that my idea of “family time” is sitting in the same room as him, my eyes glued to my laptop. Who listens to all of my rambling and plot stumbling and talks me through it like my fictional characters are real. And to my kids, who dance around the house with me each time I finish a “story,” as though my victory is theirs as well (because it is), who fantasize about which celebrity will play each of my characters in the movie. Brooke and Austin, I hope I’m teaching you how to dream.

  Whisper

  By Heather Hildenbrand

  Chapter One

  My favorite place to stand in the whole world is Bitner Peak at sunset. Something about the way the light reflects off the treetops below, a sad slant of yellow and gold that fades slowly to gray, reminds me of life. The fragility of i
t, the way it inevitably fades to nothing. It is the symbol of all I’ve lost and everything I will one day become. And when it fades to black, like the curtain at the end of a play, the finality is so tangible you can taste it. The air changes and becomes heavier, like a cloak you can’t shake, and inside it hangs every sad thought that’s ever existed. And you must find a way to carry it with you, or fall under its weight.

  That’s what I was doing now – trying to find a way to carry the weight.

  I watched as the last of the light faded into purplish-gray somewhere over the farthest peak of the Rocky Mountains, feeling whatever little bit of emotion I carried inside me leaking away with the setting sun. When the sun had set, and I stood in a darkness so thick you could hear it, I was empty and alone, the way I liked it.

  If you were empty, you couldn’t feel pain or loss or loneliness. Grandma used to say an empty jar was bad luck. You had to take the bad with the good, she would tell me. Half-filled jars lined her kitchen windowsill. A sign of her optimism, she’d say. Who knew what was in those jars; I never asked. To her, it didn’t matter, as long as they weren’t empty. Even water made a good filler. If she were still alive, she’d probably tell me to snap out of it, to feel something, anything. And quit walking around like an empty shell. But she wasn’t here. And she couldn’t possibly know the deep, cutting pain that would consume me if I let it. I had to keep it out.

  Empty was better than that kind of pain.

  I walked slowly back to my SUV - a present from Grandpa when they’d released me from Skye View Mental Health Facility three weeks ago – and got inside. I sat there with the keys in my hand and stared blankly through the windshield at the stars overhead. They were bright and huge out here in the middle of Grant territory. “Enough square miles to start your own country,” Dad used to say. Generations of Grants had grown up here, disturbing only enough earth to live on, leaving the rest of it untouched except by Mother Nature. “The beauty is its ruggedness,” he said.