“We can’t risk running into Boras’s supporters.”
“But she’s…in really bad shape.”
“We’ll stick to the plan,” Gabriel insisted, his tone flat. “When we get back to the jets, Scott will see to her. He can call ahead to have the compound’s O.R. readied if necessary.”
Gannon bit his tongue, halting his reply. He hoped the tiny mortal could hold on until they reached Las Vegas, but instinct told him only a miracle would save her. He couldn’t bring himself to contemplate the consequences of her death. His king was already walking the edge of sanity.
Jordan hadn’t regained consciousness and she’d lost an alarming amount of blood. Her pulse was faint, almost non-existent. Thankfully, her shivers were beginning to subside, her flesh warming. But her body was battered from abuse and weakened from lack of nourishment. She was a fighter, but there was only so much a human could endure.
Gabriel had to believe Scott could help her. What other choice did he have? The surgeon needed to keep her stable until they reached the Tapof compound. There, Scott had a top notch medical facility and, if necessary, Kate could use her magic to help mend Jordan’s wounds. The witch wasn’t strong enough to save Jordan on her own, but he had faith in Kate and Scott as a team.
And if Jordan is marked by Death?
A snarl ripped from his chest. His arms tightened around her, bringing her closer to him as if he could shield her from the shrouded wraith.
His vampire instinct commanded, Protect.
I will.
When the vehicles entered the clearing, the other SUVs roared toward the jets. The soldiers quickly piled out and began working on loading. The captives were filed onto the awaiting plane, bound and gagged. Most remained incapacitated, their injuries slow to heal.
The Hummer jerked to a stop in front of the small cottage they’d used as a temporary base. A tiny pained moan slipped from Jordan’s lips eliciting a growl from Gabriel. Gannon glanced over his shoulder and muttered a sheepish apology.
Gabriel shoved open the vehicle’s door and carried Jordan through the snow, hugging her firmly to his blood stained chest. With a swift kick, the cottage door banged open.
He bellowed, summoning Scott as he swept through the room, rushing to the dining table situated before the cold hearth. He glanced at the blackened fireplace, as much as he wanted to light a raging fire to help warm her, he couldn’t. The enemy was on their heels and he didn’t need to send them smoke signals.
Stroking her hair, Gabriel whispered, “Come on, Jordan. Stay with me.”
She instantly began to tremble at the loss of his body heat. Gabriel tucked the jackets more tightly around her, but he knew the thin material would do little. He needed to get her on the jet, there he had a private stateroom with a large bed and blankets. He could make her comfortable.
“Damn it, where the hell is Scott?”
Jordan flinched at Gabriel’s hard tone, though she remained unconscious. He smoothed his hand across her brow. “Sh, love,” he quietly cooed in her ear.
“Here!” a voice called from just outside. “I’m here.” Scott rushed into the cottage, his medical bag in one hand while he brushed the snow from his pea-coat with the other. “My deepest apologies, Your Highness, I was caught by a soldier who needed assistance.”
Gabriel straightened. Scott paused, his eyes fixed on the mortal. Shock and the spark of familiarity flashed in Scott’s soft brown eyes before he schooled his features with a clinical grace. But Gabriel had noticed the vicious chill that shook the shorter vampire’s thin frame.
His own gaze sharpened on the surgeon. Scott knew Jordan. How?
“What do we have?” Scott calmly approached the table and removed the blanketed jackets from Jordan’s frail body, revealing her blood stained nighty. His gaze swept her from head to toe missing nothing.
Gabriel wanted to snatch the discarded cover back. He wanted to shield Jordan from Scott and Gannon. The drenched material revealed everything and Jordan deserved privacy. Respect. But the doctor had to do his job. “Be quick. We haven’t much time,” he stonily stated.
“Yes, Majesty.” Scott cleared his throat. “How did she sustain these injuries?” With light fingers, he touched the dark purple and blue bruises at her throat left by Klein’s hands.
After some agonizing questioning, Gabriel would see to it the Slave Handler experienced a slow death. “She took a tumble. Hit her head on some ice. Her shoulder was dislocated, but I popped it back in place.” Gabriel didn’t bother listing the obvious: she was malnourished, cuts and bruises marred her soft skin, frost bite had begun to color the tips of her fingers and toes, and Jordan was pale as the white teddy she wore. “She’s been kept sedated.”
Scott nodded. “Do you know what they used and for how long?”
Gabriel shook his head. While Jordan had been kept at the boathouse never once did a guard approach her with a needle or force a pill down her throat, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t laced the little water or food they’d given her. He also didn’t know when the doses began.
“Your guess is better than mine, but we can find out,” Gabriel replied with a quick glance to Gannon, who nodded in silent understanding. As soon as Klein healed enough to speak, they’d have an answer.
“Either way, I’ll run a tox screen when we get to the compound.” Scott began to remove the makeshift tourniquet. Gently pressing his fingers to her skull, he noted, “The bone is cracked and the swelling…When did she lose consciousness?”
“She’s been out for roughly forty minutes.”
“And she hasn’t woken?” the surgeon asked. “Not once?”
“No.”
Scott continued. His hands moved down her neck to her chest. He inspected her sternum and cracked ribs. He studied her injured shoulder. “Torn muscle and tendon.” Using his fingers, he pressed into her abdomen and frowned. “Trauma to her organs or infection…it’s difficult to say, but what I feel wasn’t caused by her recent fall. Bruises mare both of her sides as if she’d been kicked.”
Gabriel shifted closer to the table. His hand searching for hers. He laced their fingers together. “Continue,” he said when Scott’s composure waivered.
“I should do an internal exam in the event she’s been…”
Gannon muffled his curse with a cough as black bled into the whites of Gabriel’s eyes. X-Tina had insisted Jordan was a virgin, but slave traders weren’t known for their honesty and were notorious for their cruelty.
“Agreed.” Gabriel gave Jordan’s hand a squeeze before stepping over to join Gannon.
They turned their backs as Scott made quick work with his medical bag.
By the sweet Graces, please no, Gabriel silently pleaded. He sucked in a breath, closed his eyes, and through sheer will he remained still, blocking out the sound of stretching medical gloves, shifting limbs and fabric, the clinking of metal. Gabriel focused on Jordan’s slow but steady, hypnotic heartbeat.
An eternity later, the doctor repacked his bag. Gabriel swung around. Scott was covering Jordan with the jackets once more.
The surgeon didn’t meet Gabriel’s gaze. “There are no signs of force.” He removed his gloves and reached for a fresh set. “She needs a transfusion and liquids. Her shoulder was set well, but will likely need surgery to repair the muscle and tendons. The swelling in her lower abdomen is concerning and will need to be examined further.” Once again inspecting her head wound, Scott mumbled an oath. “We can’t confirm what drugs she’s been given and her skull fracture…The damage…” Shaking his head, Scott peeled off the gloves and angrily threw them into his medical bag. “It’s a miracle she’s still alive. Her injuries are extensive. If we were at the compound, I could help her, but in her condition...”
Scott didn’t have to finish, Gabriel understood. Jordan wouldn’t survive the night. Failure burned his blood like poison.
Meeting his king’s ruthless stare, Scott stammered, “Your Highness, the girl needs to be taken to the E.R.�
��
Gabriel growled. “It’s too much of a risk. We are outnumbered—”
“Please, Majesty, forgive me, but every moment is precious. I understand you and the soldiers cannot stay, but I can take her. If Sir Cooper is willing to provide an escort and protection, I will remain with the girl and see to it she receives the best care.”
Leave Jordan behind? He’d come to the godman frozen tundra to rescue her, to take her home. “She stays with me.”
Scott clenched his jaw, restraining his protest, but the surgeon couldn’t hide the desperation in his eyes. He quickly dropped his gaze to the floor and guilt pierced Gabriel’s chest. He knew he was being a selfish bastard.
“I can clean her wound, give her some antibiotics, and something for the pain” Scott said. “I’ll call the compound and have the O.R. set up, but we must be prepared for the worst.”
No. The Reaper would not collect Jordan’s soul this night. Gabriel knew what he had to do. A quiet numbness washed over him then. Ripping off the black leather glove from his right hand, Gabriel brought his wrist to his mouth and savagely tore open his flesh with his fangs. Willing the wound to remain open, blood flowed from the hideous gash. Thick droplets hit the dry, cracked floors of the old cottage, the wood greedily soaking in the crimson pools.
Gently cupping her chin with his left hand, Gabriel used his thumb to part her lips. Cursing every god he could name, Gabriel pressed his wrist to Jordan’s mouth.
Scott rushed forward, alarm coloring his face. Reaching out, his voice spiked with panic, he gasped, “My king, what are you doing?”
In his peripheral, Gabriel saw Gannon block the surgeon. He restrained him with a strong hand pressed against his chest. Scott choked on his protests, his gaze locked on Gabriel and the mortal woman. Though Gannon said nothing, he could sense his Second’s concern.
“Relax, I’m not going to change her,” Gabriel said for his audience’s benefit.
Never again would he force the curse of bloodlust and immortality upon anyone. He shoved aside the memories of that rainy night he’d been left raw and broken and focused on the woman.
He would give Jordan just enough to keep her alive until they reached his compound. But, damn, her lips felt amazing against his wrist. When she stirred her tongue hesitantly stroked him. He ground his teeth, holding back a pleasured snarl. She was responding to his blood. Good sign.
Jordan caressed him with a long sweep of her tongue and a hard shiver raced down his spine. She wants more. Tentatively, she sucked on him and he nearly fell to his knees. Too damn good. The darkness within him thrust to the fore. The curse was strong in his blood. With a few more pulls from his vein, he could turn her. His mouth went dry as the image of Jordan smiling at him, tiny perfect white fangs teasing her lips as she reclined nude in his bed flashed through his mind.
The sound of her heartbeat grew stronger, it drummed in his ears. Color rose to her cheeks, the chill of her flesh faded as bruises and insignificant cuts vanished. When she drew in her first deep breath, Gabriel pulled away, his wound instantly healing.
Gannon released the surgeon, who dashed to the table.
Loathing the red stain on her lips, Gabriel brushed his leather covered thumb over her mouth, clearing away the blood. “We’ve delayed long enough.”
“Your Highness, the girl—”
“She’ll survive until we reach Vegas,” Gabriel stated. Ignoring Scott’s concern, he turned to Gannon. “We leave now.”
Gannon nodded and stepped forward. He offered his king the discarded black glove. Gabriel accepted it and slipped the leather back on. Gathering Jordan in is arms once more; he took her from the cottage to the awaiting plane. Scott trailed on his heels. Gabriel laid her on the bed in his stateroom. He gently tucked the comforter under her chin, ensuring her warmth.
“Majesty,” Scott beckoned. He remained just outside the door, his frame filling the narrow hallway.
The surgeon’s voice riled Gabriel. The weaker vampire had been useless. In a flash, Gabriel wrapped his fingers around Scott’s throat, pulled him into the room and pinned him against the polished maple wardrobe. “I suggest you pray to whatever god you worship that either you or Kate can save the woman.” He increased the pressure. “If she dies you’ll meet the sun.” Scott’s fear misted the air. “How do you know Jordan Culver?”
Chapter Seven
Jordan came awake with a groan. The sound was raw and it scratched her dry throat. God, her head pounded and she ached all over, especially her stomach. Pain was nothing new to her and the cold…She was warm. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, she was warm and she was in a bed?
Panic bloomed in her chest at the realization. She tried to remember what happened, but the last thing she could recall was Ross slapping her awake and dragging her to the purchasing room. There’d been a fight...and the rest was a fog. But she was free. Wasn’t she? Or had she been sold?
Jordan cracked open her eyelids and squinted into the darkness. Light crept into the room from an open door. Her vision was blurry, but her other senses were strong and she had the vague inclination that she was on a plane. Rough vibrations rattled her bones. The humming of powerful engines made her ears ring, but the sound was forgotten as the soft scent of winter and man had her turning her head into the pillow. She trembled recognizing the scent.
Was she hallucinating? Had the drugs permanently turned her brain to mush?
Memories flashed through her mind like lightning. A tall, menacing figure dressed in black. Shattered glass. Snow. Pain as she hit the ice. Dizziness. The pressure of fingers wrapped around her throat. Gasping for air. Then he was holding her. The ruggedly beautiful blond male with diamond green eyes. His lips had brushed her cheek, Be still, love. I’ve got you.
Closing her eyes, twin tears slipped down to her chin. Please don’t let this be a dream.
Swallowing hard, she tried to call out his name, but no sound came from her lips. Opening her eyes, Jordan pressed her palms into the mattress and strained to lift herself.
“Careful, J.”
She stilled. Her heart pounded. No one had called her “J” since she was a child.
A figure stepped from the room of light and paused in the threshold. Those gentle eyes, the soft reddish brown hair and that familiar, concerned frown. No. Impossible.
Jordan bit her lip, concentrating; she forced herself up onto trembling arms. Her stomach rolled in protest of the movement and she fell to the side. Her head lulled over the edge of the bed, her abdomen painfully contracted. The pounding in her head morphed into a violent hammering, her vision dimmed. She felt the blackness of oblivion tug at the periphery of her mind. Her shoulders shook as dry heaves burned her throat.
“J!” The man lunged for her crossing the narrow chamber in a flash. His grip on her shoulders was light as he set her up, laying her back against the pillows.
No. No! She wanted to scream. This had to be a dream or some cruel hallucination. Wake up. This isn’t real. Come on, wake up!
Unable to hold back her despair and outrage, she began to sob. She’d snapped, her mind shattered. Ross had finally broken her.
“Please, Jordan, stop crying. You’re safe.”
Shaking her head, she closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear to stare at the doctor’s face. He wasn’t here. He couldn’t be. Scott was dead.
His fingers pressed into the pulse at her wrist. “Jordan, you’re—”
“L-leave.” The word was torn from her, hoarse and pathetic.
He pressed his palm to her brow, then her cheek. “Have some water.”
She sensed the cool liquid, perceived the glass he offered her, but didn’t reach for it. “Not r-real.”
“Oh, Jordan.” His sigh filled with sadness…and regret? “Please, open your eyes. Look at me.”
She shook her head again, gritting her teeth against the pain that shot through her skull.
Lowering himself to the bed, Scott sat on the edge.
Gaining control of her tears, she squeaked, “Dead.”
“No. Well, not entirely.” She heard him take in a deep breath. “I’m a vampire.”
Vampire? Jordan’s eyes popped open and she studied the face of the man she once knew, noting the subtle changes. His gaze was sharper, his skin perfectly smooth, his breathing falsely rhythmic, and his aura was touched by darkness. Could this be true?
“Scott?”
He smiled, revealing a set of canines too sharp to belong to a human. “Yeah. It’s me.”
Jordan reached out and brushed her fingers along his shoulder. “I’m real,” he said, answering her questioning gaze. “God, J, I’m so sorry. I had no idea—” His words died with an anguished expression. “You’re here now. Safe.”
Scott offered her the water again. She nodded and he held the glass to her lips. After a few sips she turned her face away. She was thirsty enough to down gallons, but her current condition wouldn’t allow it.
Wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand, she asked, “Where am I?”
“On a jet. We’re heading to Nevada.” He placed the water on the nightstand. “I’m so sorry, J. I should have kept tabs on you. I should’ve been there for you when your aunt passed.”
“What h-happened to you?” Her voice cracked. “You vanished.”
Scott ran a hand through his short hair. “About twelve years ago, I had a lead on a vampire den. I went to scout ahead of the other hunters. I was discovered. Beaten.”
Jordan set a trembling hand on his knee silently encouraging him to continue.
“One slit his wrist, proclaiming the best revenge against a hunter wasn’t death. I was too weak to fight him.” His eyes closed, he released a shuddering sigh. “Days later, your aunt found me…after the transformation. Meg hid me from the hunters. From you. I knew I couldn’t stay. So, for three years I traveled, learning all I could about vampire society. The Clans. The Laws. The Outcasts: vampires banished from the old Clans in Europe and blood bastards—like me.”
Caressed by the Edge of Darkness (Rulers of Darkness Book 5) Page 9
