The one with the slice through his middle came to a stop and dismounted the vehicle. He yanked the rifle from his snowmobile, grin visible in the rising sunlight. Shit. He’d figured out Elena was under the fur.
A quick glance revealed the third guy who had wrecked was limping toward his vehicle, probably to get his rifle as well.
Shit, shit, shit. If only he weren’t tied to her. Heart pounding, he focused on his opposition. They’d try to immobilize him with bullets most likely.
The wood elf engaged the magazine with a sharp click, and Nikolai snatched the dagger from his boot. As the gun tip rose, aiming right at the vulnerable human between his feet, Nikolai drew the dagger back and allowed all his well-trained muscles do the work. Landing hard, he held his breath as the shower of bullets began.
Forever, the sharp staccato of gunfire rang in his ears, as every nerve ending fired with pain. The woman under him remained motionless. If she died, so would he. Hopefully, his body would absorb it all, and none of the bullets would pass though him into her.
A shrill, familiar scream echoed through the forest, and then the gunshots stopped.
“The bastard!” Aleksi shouted from somewhere nearby. “Wood elves?”
He groaned and lifted his head to find her storming toward him, gold eyes flashing.
“Honestly,” she continued, helping him roll off Elena. “Is there no one with whom Fydor will not ally?”
Elena flinched as Aleksi ripped the fur off her. Relief flowed through him like warm water. She had survived. He wanted to sit up and check her for wounds, but was unable to move.
“Are you shot?” Aleksandra asked her.
“I—I don’t think so.”
“Well, then get up.”
She rolled to her side and tried unsuccessfully to push to her feet.
Aleksi, sword covered with black tree elf blood, crouched over where Nikolai lay sprawled on his back in the blood-soaked snow. She placed her hands on either side of his face. “Hang in there. I’ll get the bullets out as soon as your human baggage makes herself useful.”
Elena tried to stand again, but fell back on her back. “I can’t. My legs are frozen or asleep or something.”
“Then crawl. I need your help.”
She crawled the several feet through the bloody snow to his side, covering her nose and mouth with her hands. Obviously, the smell of his blood was affecting her.
“Hold out your hands,” Aleksandra ordered. “I can’t leave evidence that he has been healed. You must take the bullets with you.”
Elena held out her bare hands and placed them together. One, by one, for what seemed like forever, Aleksi moved her hands over his body, removing bullets with a pain that rivaled being shot in the first place. Fuck, it hurt. And still, they kept coming. Clink, clink, clink.
“You’d better be worth it, little human,” Aleksi said, finally sitting up. “There. I got them all. Niki, are you still with us?”
“Yes.” His voice was strained, but at least he could still talk.
“You need to teleport now. Right now. Can you do that? I know you’re hurt. Has a sufficient amount of time passed?”
He nodded, which was the best he could do with his body ripped full of holes.
“More will come if we remain here, and they might not be simple wood elves. Go to the cabin. It’s very close, so you won’t have to use a lot of energy to get there, and no one knows of it. Teleport there and heal. I’ll come to you when I can.”
Again, he nodded.
“Where is your dagger? The one I gave you?”
His eyes searched the area and stopped on the body of a wood elf with a jeweled knife hilt protruding from the gray skin of its throat.
“It’s how they’ve been finding you. I overheard Fydor bragging about it to a guard. He altered it and put a device in the handle so they could track you.” She walked to the body of the creature, ripped out the dagger, and wiped the black sticky blood off it onto its jacket. “And it’s how they’ll find me.” She stood on the bearskin that had covered Elena, raised the blade, and plunged it into her own belly. “Shame on you for stabbing me like this.” Her face contorted in pain. “I love you. See you soon.”
Mouth open in a silent scream, Elena, still holding the bullets, trembled as Aleksi crumpled over in the snow.
With a grunt, he pulled the suitcase to them and popped it open. Aleksi’s plan was good, but only if they could get the hell out before more of Fydor’s men came. “Put the bullets in here. If Fydor is really trying to have me killed, we can’t leave evidence she helped me.” She dropped them in a shower into the bottom corner of the suitcase. “Now hold this and we go.”
She gripped the suitcase tightly.
“Lean close.” He stared into her blue eyes and put his hands on her neck. As he chanted, the familiar pressure of teleportation began.
Once solidified, he leaned against the wall for support. He’d thought the worst of the pain was over when Aleksi finished removing the bullets, but teleporting proved him wrong. Just because bullets couldn’t kill him didn’t mean they didn’t hurt like hell. There must have released two dozen rounds into his body. Damned wood elves.
He straightened and took a ragged breath. He hadn’t been here since his father’s death over twenty years ago. They’d used to camp here when hunting bear and boar. The cabin looked exactly as he remembered it, sparsely furnished with only two beds, a stove, and rough-hewn beams on the ceiling. It seemed like only yesterday he was staring up at the knotholes in the beams as his father told him stories of his people and the species under the Veil.
Swallowing hard, he brushed away the ghosts of happier times. His father was dead. And now that he knew Arcos’s offspring was not complicit whatsoever in that murder, he was discharged from avenging his death. Or was he? Maybe the rumblings and rumors had some merit. Maybe something more complicated than the two kings killing each other in a swordfight had caused his father’s death.
His uncle had planted the location device in his dagger. Why? Aleksandra made it sound like he was behind all these attacks. Well, until he found out what was really going on, he would trust no one. The only thing he was really sure of was that this woman was paired with him by fate, and Uniter or not, he’d protect her.
Judging from the dim light coming in the windows, the tiny cabin was completely snowbound. Good. They would be all but invisible. He needed to be sure they stayed that way.
Elena had moved as far from him as the cord would allow. Her eyes were dilated. She lusted for his blood. If only she wanted him like that. Well, it was probably a good thing she didn’t at this point because he hurt too much to do anything to relieve her if she did.
“I have no spare clothes,” he said. “I can do nothing to eliminate the blood and make you more comfortable until I heal.”
“How long will that be?”
“I have no idea. I haven’t eaten in a while and am weakened. Usually, the wounds close in less than a day, so probably by this time tomorrow.”
She groaned and slumped to the floor, covering her face. “I’ll never make it.”
“That bad?”
“That good. You have no idea how good you smell.”
Well, part of him didn’t need healing and sprang to life at the husky tone of her voice. “How good?”
“So good, I don’t care that I can’t feel my feet anymore.”
Shit. He’d done it again. Thinking of himself and not her. Dammit, she might have frostbite in those silly tennis shoes and blue jeans. “Take off your pants,” he ordered.
“Look, I said you smelled good. It wasn’t a green light.”
“Woman,” he said, jerking off her shoe, “be silent.” He removed her other shoe and wrapped her toes in his warm hands. “Can you feel that?”
“Yes. It hurts, so cut it out.”
It was imperative to get her dry and warm before frostbite set in. He reached up and unbuttoned her jeans.
She gasped and grabbed h
is wrists. “I said—”
“Say nothing.” He hadn’t intended his voice to be that gruff, but if she lost her feet, they were screwed. He yanked her wet jeans down to her knees, then pulled them the rest of the way off from the ankles. How could he have been so stupid as to have buried her in the snow in such clothes? Humans were not like Slayers and other Underveilers. They succumbed to the elements so quickly. He threw the wet jeans aside.
“Well, way to bypass foreplay all together,” she said. “Figures you’d be selfish, just like you are about everything else.”
He grabbed a bearskin from the floor and wrapped it around her. “I’m not ripping off your clothes to fuck you. Not that I don’t want to, because I do. And I will. But not until you ask me to…and I want you to be able to walk afterward, which you can’t do without feet. So just be quiet for now.” If she lost her feet, he’d never forgive himself.
Mouth open, she stared at him as he reached under the fur and wrapped the balls and toes of both her feet between his large hands.
She stared over at the iron potbelly stove. “Can’t you light a fire to warm it up?”
He shook his head. “Not in the daytime. The smoke will be spotted. No fires in the daytime. No lights at night.” He cupped his hands and breathed warm air on her toes. “Move your feet for me.” She did, and he sighed with relief. “I don’t think you were cold long enough, nor is the temperature so low you will have lingering effects.”
He stood and picked her up, every wound in his body screaming. Mercifully, the entire width of the cabin was hardly more than the length of the cord, so his walk was short. Holding his breath so he wouldn’t groan in pain, he lowered her gently on one of the two beds.
Then, he pulled the suitcase over and popped it open, relieved to find flannel pajamas and thick socks for her under a piece of red lingerie that made his mouth go dry. He grinned when he saw that Stefan had also included another pair of jeans and a shirt for him as well.
He shivered and the gunshot wounds answered with searing pain. He was wet, too, but with blood, not melted snow.
He tossed the pajamas and socks to her. “Can you manage these?”
“My feet are back, but they’re not happy about it.”
“I am.” He pulled out two protein bars and set them on the tiny table between the beds, then peeled off his bullet-perforated, blood-soaked clothes. Using her wet blue jeans, he wiped as much blood off his body as he could, wincing as the rough fabric scraped across the entry holes. To his relief, many of the wounds had begun to close and were no longer bleeding. Still, they hurt like hell. He needed to dispose of the clothes, but couldn’t do it yet. If someone came across the discarded items, they would know they were still in the mountains. He could teleport somewhere, but it created a trail and also took a ton of energy, which he needed in order to heal. For now, she would just have to endure the smell.
He opened the potbelly stove and shoved the clothes inside. That should buffer the odor of blood somewhat. He turned back around to find her staring. She had put on the pajama pants and socks and was still in the parka, eyes wide as they traveled up and down his body. Dammit, what shit timing to have his gut full of holes. Fate was a heartless bitch.
Chapter Eleven
Elena almost fainted when Nikolai leaned over to shove the clothes inside the stove. Never had there been a more perfect body on the planet, she was sure of it, and his backside was just as delicious as the front. Her mouth watered, and as much as she would have liked to blame it solely on the blood lust, she was certain it was more than that.
Here was a man who had to be in excruciating pain, caring for her first. He’d taken off the bloody clothes. Though, based on his pained expression, it almost killed him to do it. He had done it for her. She’d totally misjudged him.
“Eat a bar,” he said, wrapping himself in a blanket from the other bed, teeth chattering.
She reached over, picked one up, ripped it open, and offered it to him. “You too.”
He took it and smiled, which cause her heart to soar. Such a beautiful smile, punctuated with a dimple on one side. Why had she never noticed that before?
“Your hair is wet,” he said between bites. “Is your coat wet?”
She chewed and swallowed before answering. “A little. I’m afraid of being colder if I take it off.”
“Being wet is the worst thing in a situation like this.” He shuddered from cold and dug through the suitcase again. “Layers are the most effective.” He pulled out several garments, but none had been altered to accommodate the cord with the exception of the pajama top she already had and one other T-shirt. “Take off the parka and your blouse if it’s wet, and we will let it dry. Put this on under the pajamas.”
Then, to her surprise, he turned his back. She stripped off the parka and found her shirt dry underneath. After putting on the other items, her teeth were chattering.
“I’m sorry we can’t start a fire,” he said, “but we must stay hidden.”
She took another bite of protein bar and pulled the brown fur all the way up to her neck, settling back on the pillows. “Where are we exactly?”
“We are in the Carpathian Mountain Range near the Romanian border. This was my father’s hunting cabin.” He settled into the tiny bed across from her and pulled up the thin quilt, cord stretching between them like a child’s jump rope.
She sat up. “Won’t they know to look here?”
He shook his head. “No. No one has been here in over twenty years, and I doubt my uncle Fydor even knows it exists.”
A shiver racked his body, and he winced. It must have hurt to have his muscles contract when he was riddled with bullet holes—bullets he had taken to protect her. His unselfishness was humbling. She’d thought so poorly of him, when perhaps it was only his nature and not his actions she’d taken into account. Even though he’d been a jerk about vampires and her weakness, he’d always protected her. And even though it was clear he wanted her in the hotel, he hadn’t pushed himself on her. She was also certain that the only reason he approached Stefan was because he knew she would benefit from it—again, he had put his comfort aside to see to hers.
And as far as his lying to her, though she didn’t like it, she kind of understood it. How well would it have gone over if he had told her, “Hey, you hate my guts, but I’m your mate for life”?
And she had hated him. Part of her still did, but it wasn’t him, per se; it was what had happened to her life since she met him, but that wasn’t his fault. Hell, his life was just as screwed up as hers since their meeting. Finding out his mate was a vampire couldn’t have been great news, and now his own uncle was trying to kill him.
He shuddered again from the cold.
“It’s warmer over here,” she said. “I have the fur thing and more blankets.”
It was clear from his furrowed brow that he was uncertain whether she was genuine or not. Perhaps he thought she was taunting.
Could she stand being that close to him while he still smelled of blood? Yes. She could. Look what he was enduring for her. He had to be in horrible pain.
“Please come over here. We’ll both be more comfortable.”
He rose and walked to her bed. “Are you sure? I’m still bleeding.”
She lifted the covers. “I’m positive. It’ll just be like being in a candy store while on a diet. I have tremendous self-control.”
If only it were just the blood. It was him she craved. But he was hurt. This was safe.
He slipped under the covers behind her and spooned against her body, pulling her close. Immediately, she felt warmer. Infinitely warmer, especially in a few select places. Holy shit, he smelled good. Edible. Maybe this wasn’t going to work after all.
Nikolai shifted slightly so as not to press his erection against her. The combined body heat was a great idea, and he didn’t want her to regret it because one part of his body was more grateful than others.
Her hair still smelled like the bubble bath at the Ti
me Folder’s house. His mind drifted to the way her flesh felt in the bathtub, and he got even harder.
She took a deep breath through her nose and squirmed. He was sure if he reached down inside those pajama pants, he’d find her wet.
He fought off a groan.
No. He couldn’t do that. He had to respect her wishes.
What were her wishes? Right now, he knew she wished she could have his blood—she wanted it so badly she was aching. Perhaps if he helped her with the ache, it would help the blood lust as well.
He reached between them and adjusted himself to no avail. The thought of getting her off was almost enough to drive him over the edge.
“I need to touch you,” he whispered in her ear.
Her body tightened. Other than that, she didn’t respond, nor did she breathe.
“Let me touch you, Elena. It will help with the craving you feel.” And it would help distract him from his pain to bring her pleasure.
She let her breath out slowly, not answering either way. Still, she hadn’t said no. Perhaps she was embarrassed to say yes. Humans were odd that way.
“You can stay fully dressed. I swear I will not… I won’t…”
Still, she didn’t answer, but she pushed back against him and gasped when her ass met his erection. He suppressed the urge to push back. He’d never wanted anyone like he wanted this woman, and here he was in bed with her, too full of bullet holes to do what his body demanded. Still, he could do enough if she’d let him. Her slender body squirmed in his arms, and that was sufficient invitation.
Her back was still to him, pressed tightly against his body. Slowly and deliberately, he slid his hand over her side, and the air rushed out of her lungs in a whoosh. He stilled, fingers just dipped inside the waistband. “With only my hand and your mind, okay? We can make you feel so much better.” She whimpered, and he moved his fingers only fractionally lower. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she said, finally, and he almost came at the mere word. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that she’d given him permission to touch her or that she admitted to trusting him that pleased him the most. Suddenly, he wasn’t cold anymore. He was warm everywhere.
Love Me to Death (Underveil) Page 10
