by Anna Abner
“You have beautiful hair,” he murmured, spreading the lather into her scalp.
She didn’t say anything else, and they finished their shower in silence.
Chapter Sixteen
Roz’s skin still sang from her encounter with Lukas in the shower, but she kept her eyes averted and pretended to be absorbed in her cell phone while they waited for Dr. Burke to complete her examination of the patient, Maksim Volk. Roz landed on a blog written by a teen shifter with a questionable reputation. Several sources claimed it was a hoax site, written with potential celebrity in mind, but Roz scanned it anyway, sometimes having to re-read posts twice before absorbing them.
She could feel Lukas’ large rough hands on her delicate flesh, feel his warm mouth between her legs. At the memory, she clamped her thighs together. She snuck a look at him from under her lashes, just to recall the size and scope of him. In the shower, he’d seemed to be made of miles of velvety skin.
Wanting him this badly was counterproductive. He was a shapeshifter, hated witches, and lived in Sweden. Nothing good could come from them screwing around, but it had been so intensely pleasurable, she didn’t even care.
Uncomfortable, she pulled at her shorts and adjusted the front of her snug top.
The doc emerged from the kitchen, removing blue rubber gloves. “Volk has several broken bones that healed in the wrong shape,” she said sadly. “If I don’t re-set them, he’ll be in pain the rest of his life. But,” she said, peering at Connor, “I need your help to do it.”
“Of course.”
They circled the butcher-block island. Still explaining, Julia peeled the blanket from Volk’s chest. “His ribs on both sides have been beaten in. This will be the most difficult fix. Then,” she said, touching his bicep, “two bones in his left arm were broken, and nearly every finger in both hands. With his accelerated healing, we can re-break each of the bones, and he can be back to normal—relatively speaking—in a matter of days.”
All it took was one look into Ali’s troubled expression and Roz volunteered her services.
“I’ll do what I can to help,” she said, calling her power.
“Hold him down,” Julia said to Connor and Lukas as she put on clean gloves. “I have to expose the ribs in order to reset them.”
“Get the toughest part finished first?” Connor guessed.
“Something like that,” Julia agreed as she sliced open his side. White rib bones showed through fresh blood and bits of muscle. The man on the table seized up as if he’d suffered an electrical shock. It required both Lukas and Connor to hold him flat while Julia bent over his ribs, snapping bone here, wrapping a bit of surgical wire there. Roz wanted to turn away, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from the grotesque surgery.
“He needs more sedative,” Ali fretted.
With a grumble, the doc injected Volk with a syringe of clear fluid. “That ought to do it.”
Volk settled down, and Julia dove back in, cutting, breaking, and wiring bloody bones back together.
#
Roz hadn’t slept very well. Between worrying about Coven witches coming for their pound of flesh and replaying Volk’s bloody saga, she’d mostly lain awake on the couch in the cabin all Monday night. Unfortunately for her, Lukas had settled on the floor beneath her and slept like a log all night. She didn’t have the heart to wake him up to keep her company.
In the morning, not even a shower could perk her up, so she moseyed into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee still wearing pajama bottoms and a comfy tee.
Ali was already there perched on a bar stool beside Volk. As Roz tried to ignore the scent of blood permeating the room, the vampire woke.
“Katya?” he breathed, staring blankly at Ali. “My little bird. You’ve come back.”
“It’s Ali,” she said, but Volk didn’t seem to hear her.
“Katya,” he whispered. “My Katya.”
Connor eased into the room, his gaze on the vampire. “Has he said anything coherent yet?”
“Nope,” Roz answered.
Volk stared with unfocused eyes at Ali.
“He’s drifting in and out,” Ali explained.
Crabby and hungry, Roz blurted out exactly what she was thinking. “He’s never been my favorite guy, but we don’t know a damn thing about what he’s been doing the last month. Where’s the horde hiding?”
“Agreed,” Connor said. “I’m going to strap him to the table.” At Ali’s intake of breath, Connor added, “Just until he’s lucid enough to explain what’s going on.”
“Might I remind you,” Ali said, glancing at Roz, “he arrived running away from vampires?”
“Fine,” Connor said, returning with restraints, “but he’s still a sneaky fucker.”
Roz opened her mouth to add some advice about Volk’s propensity for lying, but he rolled onto his side and made a choking sound.
Ali edged nearer the table. “Maks?” she asked. “Can you hear me? How do you feel?”
His eyes fluttered until finally they seemed to focus. “Katya,” he breathed, reaching for her.
“It’s me, Ali,” she said, clasping his hand. “Do you remember me?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Katya, they kept hurting me. I couldn’t find you.”
“Maks,” Ali said more sharply. “It’s Ali.”
But he continued moaning her mother’s name. She tried to withdraw her hand from his, but his fingers tightened.
“They kept hurting me,” he exclaimed, his grief morphing rapidly into rage.
“Let go of me,” she cried.
Roz grabbed Volk’s arm and yanked, but he didn’t budge. God, he was strong.
He squeezed harder. “Why are you hurting me?”
“Stop,” Ali pleaded.
Before Roz knew what he was doing, Connor smashed the back of Volk’s skull against the table and carried Ali several feet away.
“Let me see your hand,” he demanded. “Is it broken?”
Roz laid one palm to the center of her chest in a vain attempt to still her racing heart. Jeez, the bastard had changed so quickly from a mumbling patient into an icy killer, he’d scared her.
“No.” Ali flexed her stiff and bruised fingers. “Thank God.” She glanced up. “He thought I was my mother.”
Connor efficiently and none too gently shackled Volk’s wrists and chained him tight to the table. “He’s not going anywhere.”
“What do we do with him?” Roz demanded, letting her irritation show. “Things are getting a little off track around here. We’re supposed to be hunting vampires, but we’ve got psycho witches performing torture in our garage and the crown prince of the horde bleeding all over our kitchen. What is happening?”
From the living room, Lukas called, “Who’s pissing off Roz?”
With a sigh, Connor called back, “No one. Pissed off is your girlfriend’s neutral gear.”
Lukas grunted, but didn’t say anything else.
Humiliated by the way they spoke about her—girlfriend?—as if she wasn’t there, Roz exclaimed, “I’m going to start with the vampire in the garage. You three deal with the mess in here.”
Stomping out the back door, Roz shoved her way into the garage. The female infected huddled in the northwest corner, as far from the bloody remains of her comrades as possible.
“Hey,” Roz greeted brusquely. “You sleep okay?”
“Who the fuck are you?” the woman demanded. “And what sick game are you people playing?”
“No game.” Roz dragged an empty bucket across the floor and sat. “We hunt the bad guys. We try to help the good guys.”
The woman sneered. “And who decides who’s bad and who’s good? You?”
“It depends on how we find you,” Roz countered. “Murdering innocent human beings or just out for a stroll. It becomes pretty obvious once you know where to look.”
“You’re real funny,” the woman said, scowling.
Roz took a breath. “What’s your name?” When she didn�
��t immediately answer, Roz said, “I’m Roz. My best friend the vampire is Connor. Ali’s his British girlfriend. And Lukas is…” Geez, what was Lukas? “A stray,” she finished.
“Fiona,” the woman said. “Are we BFFs now?”
“Look,” Roz said, leveling with her, “we want to offer you the chance to get away from the horde and start over. Connor’s infected, too, but he doesn’t feed on people. He drinks bagged blood. It cures his hunger while preserving his humanity. Do you think that’s something you could do?”
“First,” Fiona said, leaning against the wall, “cold animal blood doesn’t do shit against the hunger. You so-called friend is gonna break and eat your heart out one of these days. It’s only a matter of time. Second,” she continued, “that’s not a fair choice at all. Join your cult or die? You need to work on your presentation.”
“Yeah, well,” Roz grumbled, “it’s a work in progress. But what do you say?”
“Of course I’ll join your cult,” Fiona said, “if it keeps me alive another day. Do I have to sign a billion-year contract or worship an alien or something?”
“No.” Roz was starting to like Fiona. “Just try really hard not to kill people. We’ll do the rest.” She stood and replaced the bucket. “I’ll get you some blood. We should be able to unchain you soon. Be patient, though. You’re still on probation.”
“Whatever,” the woman grumbled, “just hurry with the blood. Oh, and keep that crazy ginger away from me.”
Chapter Seventeen
Maks woke up angry. For one terrifying moment, he was a captive again of the US Army—bare-chested and strapped to a gurney awaiting a fresh round of torture. He fought against the restraints, jerking on the chains with every ounce of his strength.
And then an angel with a halo of blonde hair, blue eyes, and the worried expression of her mother hovered at his right-hand side.
“Anya?” he queried. Could it be the tiny girl he’d loved and lost so many years ago?
“You recognize me?” Some of the worry left her face. “I go by Ali now. But I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
That was debatable. His mind was fragmented, fuzzy, and confused. The past and present seemed to exist simultaneously, and it was a very uncomfortable sensation. He wanted out of these chains and off this table.
“Why am I tied down?” he grumbled, his voice raspy and unused.
“Because,” Connor said, striding into the kitchen and crossing his arms as he loomed over Maks, “you’re an untrustworthy douche. Start by telling us why you drove your car through our gate.”
But then it wasn’t Connor, it was a uniformed soldier with a syringe in his hand.
Terror won out, and silently Maks fought the restraints. The cuffs bit into his flesh, but he ignored the pain.
An image of another beauty with amber eyes floated through his fractured consciousness.
“Where is she?” he asked, scanning the room.
“Who?” Connor asked. “Ali?”
“No.” He struggled against the chains, but couldn’t break free. “They’ll kill her.”
“Kill who?” Connor pressed, bending slightly.
“No.” Maks thrashed. “You son of a bitch. Let me out.” He’d driven like a madman across the desert for their help. Why wouldn’t they help him?
“Not until you tell us where you stashed the horde,” Connor said.
“They took over a house on Red Rock Road,” he said, the words scratching out of his raw throat.
“Which house?”
“A white one.” Maks pulled so hard at the shackles, his joints crackled. “Let me go.”
“Not yet.”
A beast of a man edged into the room, snarling, “If they’re anywhere close to where he says, I’ll find them.”
Connor bent even further, leaning close to Maks’ face. “Why were they chasing you?”
The asshat didn’t get the point. Violet was the reason for everything. But Sergei would only keep her alive as long as he found her useful.
“They’ll kill her,” Maks said. “Let me go, so I can save her.”
“I’ll help you,” Connor promised, “but first tell me where they are.”
“Red Rock Road.”
“Thank you. Now, you can go when I trust you not to stab me in the back, brother.”
Maks didn’t cry. It wasn’t in his best interests to fuss. Connor, the prick, had the upper hand. For now. But Maks’ fury was unparalleled.
Connor’s dark-haired witch moved into his periphery. “We’ll let you out soon,” Roz said. “Rest now. You’re still weak.”
Maks snapped the chain holding his right hand to the table. In one swift movement, he jackknifed off the table and snatched a carving knife from the counter. Connor made a grab for him, but Maks ducked Connor’s haymaker and buried the knife to the hilt in Connor’s belly.
“God damn it,” Connor swore. “I like this shirt, you dick.” He shook his head at the mess Maks had made.
Connor grasped Maks by the arms and lifted him in the air before slamming him back onto the table. Wood splintered as the butcher-block’s supports strained.
Soldiers. They wouldn’t leave him alone. Maks raised his head and shouted, “You ruined my life! I was happy. And you took it all away.”
The soldier gave him a little shake. “I saved your life. You ought to be thanking me, you ungrateful bastard.”
Maks punched him, rabbit fast, directly where he’d stabbed him.
No, not a soldier. Connor Beckett.
“You crazy son of a bitch,” Connor exclaimed, not without some affection, as if he expected no different. “You know you can’t hurt me, so what’s your play?”
“They’ll kill her,” he said softly. “Katya. Anya. Violet.” Were they all dead? He couldn’t remember whom he’d lost and which he could still save.
Connor lifted him up and shoved him onto the floor where he slid a good ten feet on the tiles before rolling to his hands and knees. Reality came crashing back. Katya was gone, and Violet may be as well.
Maks pushed to his feet, but the fight had taken a lot out of him. He swayed, and Ali slipped instinctively under his left arm.
“I’m sorry,” Maks said, dropping his brow against the top of her head. “Ali, I wish… I’m so sorry.”
“I know,” Ali said, holding him tightly. “Let’s get you into a bed. You’re ready to fall over.”
Connor snuck up from his blind side and jabbed Maks with a hypodermic needle, injecting clear fluid into the side of his throat.
Maks panicked. “Look for her,” he begged as the sedative slowed his thoughts. “Please. She has amber…”
Maks’ eyes closed beyond his control, and he wilted. Ali, bless her, tried to slow his descent, but he fell too quickly. He lay on the cold tiles, paralyzed. Helpless, but not deaf.
“Let’s go,” Connor said. “I want to see this place for myself before I decide what to do with him. Everyone ready for some reconnaissance?”
“You know I am,” the beast said.
“I’m coming,” Roz agreed.
“I’ll stay with him.” Ali clasped Maks’ limp fingers. “I feel like we’re treating him no better than everyone else.”
Connor lifted him off the floor and placed him back onto the butcher block. There went the chains again, around both wrists and ankles.
“Maybe he deserves a lot worse,” Connor said. “We don’t know the whole story. Maybe we’re being very humane, all things considered.”
Ali said, “It doesn’t seem that way.”
Ali’s next words evaporated as Maks’ consciousness slipped away like a floating stick down a river, gone before he could catch it.
#
Lukas took out his tennis ball and bounced it. Floor, wall, hand. He thwacked it against the floor. Harder and faster. He couldn’t wait to tear up some infecteds. Not that long ago, he’d wanted to destroy each and every vampire. And one vampire in particular. But after meeting Connor, he understood not
every infected was evil.
Only most of them.
Roz sashayed into the room looking hot as hell in black tactical gear.
When he’d first encountered her and her group, he’d taken them for a bunch of rank amateurs, but he knew better now. Just because they were sloppy and nearly lost every fight they picked didn’t mean they weren’t good fighters and decent strategists. At least they were trying to help the rest of humanity.
“How does Ali keep up with you and Connor?” he questioned. Did she have a role other than back-up? Thus far, he’d only seen her fire a weapon. And not very well.
“Oh,” Roz answered in a teasing tone, “you don’t know? She blows up when she gets her feelings hurt.”
“Ali?” He was skeptical. What, exactly did blow up mean? She couldn’t mean it literally.
“She looks like the prom queen, but you’ve never seen her glow. Or what happens when she loses her temper. Little tip—get the fuck out of the way.”
He nodded solemnly. “Noted.”
“She and Connor are bona fide super heroes, and I’m just a jerk with a little bit of juice.”
“I don’t think you’re a freak. I think you’re incredible.” Roz impressed the hell out of him. She was pure magical energy walking on two very sexy legs. Strangely, he felt something akin to pride watching her grow and improve.
She ducked her head and refused to respond.
“How many vampire hunts have you been on?” he asked into the silence.
“I’ve been doing this for about a year.” She flashed him dark eyes. “Don’t think I can’t handle myself.”
“I wouldn’t doubt you for a second.”
“Good.” She smiled at him as she snatched his ball out of the air. “Let’s keep it that way.”
Fuck whoever was watching. Lukas snaked his arm around her waist, yanked her in close, and kissed her. Her mouth tasted like sweet coffee with cream, and he moaned as he sank against her. If he weren’t careful, he’d become addicted.
She playfully squeezed his ass and pulled away as Connor swept into the room carrying a duffel bag crammed with an arsenal.
“Ready?” Connor asked.
