by Lynne, Donya
Malek couldn't deny the truth in Lorena's words. Once Gina was gone, he would never find another.
"Kill me," he said. "Please kill me." Even as he said it, he knew they wouldn't.
Still, Searcy's arrogant burst of laughter struck him more deeply than if he'd stabbed him. "No. You will watch her die. You will suffer as Armand suffered in his last moments at her hands." He pointed over his shoulder toward Gina.
"Armand beat her. Abused her. He tried to kill her, you bastard!" This was Malek's last gasp.
"He was her mate!" Searcy's voice boomed. "He had every right to do what he pleased with her!"
They were crazy. All of them. Trying to reason with them was like trying to hold on to a greased glass. It no longer mattered, anyway. The only thing that did was getting to Gina and making her last hours as comfortable as he could.
The sound of squealing tires brought their heads around. The humans in the SUV had apparently gotten a whiff of what was going on and decided it was time to split, no doubt wanting to avoid being witnesses to a murder. But the intrusion seemed to bring an ounce of sense back into Searcy's maniacal brain.
"Let's go." Searcy stood and leered down at him. "Your fate is sealed, weakling. As is the fate of your friends at AKM. In time, they will all suffer for their betrayal." He snapped his fingers at Vaydon, who released him with a violent shove that sent his face into the wet pavement.
By the time he righted himself and looked up, they were gone. He pushed to his feet, rushed to Gina's side, and fell to his knees.
"Oh God! Gina!" He lifted her from the puddle and smoothed the grit and water from her face.
Her body contracted every couple of seconds as the poison continued to break through her system. "Ma…lek."
"Ssshh. I'm here. I'm here now. Stay with me, piccolina. I'm here."
"It b…burns."
"I know, baby." He brushed her soaked hair off her face, leaned down, and kissed her forehead.
He knew by morning she would be gone, but he had to try. He couldn't give up. He owed her that much for failing to protect her.
"You're going to be okay. You're going to live, baby."
Denial pushed forward again, just as it had with Carmen. He refused to accept that Gina was dying. No way was he going to lose another mate. Fuck that! Gina would live, damn it. She had to.
Sorrow filled her eyes. "Malek. No, tesoro. No." She shook her head as her body contracted again and again.
Her hand crept toward his. She was too weak to move. He took her delicate hand in his, lifted it to his cheek, and pressed her cold palm against his face.
"I won't let you die, Gina. I'll find a way."
A wan smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "Too…late…for that."
No! The word echoed through his mind. NO! She was his life. He had only just found her. God couldn't take her from him already. Not so soon. They had a whole life ahead of them. Only an hour ago, they had chosen the colors for their new kitchen during the cab ride back to his truck. Lavendar walls with eggshell, antique brushed cabinets. With recycled flooring. Gina believed in the green movement. They had even shopped for bookshelves on her phone so they could pull out all the books he had bought over the years and build a library.
This wasn't happening—couldn't be happening.
"No!" With a burst of life, he hoisted Gina's limp body into his arms and rushed her back to the truck. After getting her settled into the passenger seat, he jumped behind the wheel, turned the key, gunned the engine, threw the truck in gear, and like the humans before him burned rubber as he spun the truck around and headed toward AKM.
Somebody there had to be able to help. One of medical staff had to have developed a cure for the Reaper's Blade. They must have!
"Hang on, Gina."
As long as she breathed, he had a chance. Not much of one, but even a fraction of one percent was something.
* * *
Fire burned through Gina's veins and blistered her cells. She could almost feel her tissues turning black and withering away on a hot breeze like some homemade dirigible over a bonfire, its edges burning, deteriorating, until all that was left was ash.
Poor Malek. He thought he could save her. Or maybe he only hoped he could. She didn't have the heart to tell him again that it was too late for that. She was already a walking corpse. In time, the poison would be too much for her heart to bear, and she would succumb.
Ironic, wasn't it? Only a month ago she had attempted to kill Severin and rob his new mate, Arion, of the joy they had found with one another. She had failed—thank God. But where she failed, Searcy succeeded. She and Malek had just found each other and after only two all-too-brief days, their mating was coming to an end. Talk about karma coming back around to the power of ten.
It was her fault. She had brought all this on herself the moment she vowed blood vengeance for her brother's death. No…she had sealed her fate long before even that. The second she pulled the trigger and blown Armand's skull apart, she had set the wheels into motion to lead to this moment. Her demise had been inevitable from the instant she murdered Armand.
Malek would never survive this, so the blood on her hands only grew darker and more profuse. In effect, she had killed herself and Malek that day. Like some train on a winding track that led downhill, she had set them both on this course toward death, and now they careened out of control, the end of the tracks coming at the edge of a cliff that would send them both tumbling to their agonizing deaths.
An assassin, huh? Really? Well, if she was, she was lousy at her job. What kind of assassin fucked up so badly that she killed everyone important to her? Even herself.
"I'm s…sorry," she said, too weak to turn toward him. Fresh tears dripped from the lower rims of her eyelids. "S…so sorry."
His warm hand clasped hers. She was cold. So damn cold. Even so, she didn't want him touching her. If he knew she had brought all this pain and suffering to him, he would surely push her away.
She was a fool to think she deserved to take a mate like Malek. Only a few short hours ago, everything had felt perfect, as if they had saved each other and healed one another's hearts. Maybe in his way, he had healed hers, but what she had done to him was unforgiveable.
Because she hadn't healed him.
She had sealed his death warrant.
CHAPTER 27
Brak looked out the window of his hotel room. The storm was beginning to wind down.
When was the last time he had witnessed a thunderstorm? Forever ago, it seemed like. For the past forty-five minutes, he had stood rooted in place, gazing out at the lightning, breathing in as thunder ripped the air, as if by engaging all of his senses he could more fully experience the wrath of Mother Nature.
He and Cynthia had arrived in Chicago a few hours ago, found a hotel, and had grabbed dinner. Room service, Cynthia called it.
His loaded cheeseburger tasted nothing like anything he'd ever eaten. Much better than their lunch at Bob Evans, and far tastier than any burger he'd ever cooked for himself.
"You ready?" Cynthia said from behind him.
He turned and nodded. "Yes." He wanted to see Trace and needed to find out what had happened to his father. He had so many questions, he didn't know where to begin.
With kind eyes, Cynthia took his hand and led him toward the door.
"Do I look okay?" he said, catching his reflection in the mirror.
Everyone in this new world looked so different. Not like the people he viewed on the Internet. Did he fit in with this new world he had missed out on? Was he dressed the way he should be?
"You look fine," Cynthia said. "Very handsome. Very…normal."
He wore a white Henley tee that buttoned a third of the way down, along with a pair of tan, linen pants with a drawstring waist and a pair of brown sandals. He had showered, and his long, brown hair fell in damp waves well past his shoulders.
"Are you sure?"
She smiled at him. "Positive. Now come on. Let's go find your
dad and brother. I doubt they'll care what you're wearing and will just be happy to see you."
He grabbed the information for AKM off the dresser, including a map he had printed before leaving his prison in West Virginia, and followed her into the hall and down to the parking garage.
It wouldn't be long now and he would be back with his brother.
* * *
Malek didn't bother with parking in the underground garage once he got to AKM. He pulled up to the back door, hauled Gina out of the passenger seat, held her against him, and hurried inside to the medical wing.
"Help! God, someone help me!"
The nurse at the front station took one look at the blood still oozing like acid from Gina's neck and chest and immediately jumped to action. Within sixty seconds, doctors and medical staff poured into the entryway. Someone lifted Gina from his arms, but he refused to let go of her hand as they settled her on a gurney and wheeled her to the trauma unit.
"What happened?" one of the doctors asked as a nurse began strapping down tubes and inserted an IV in Gina's arm. Another began cutting off her soaked clothes, while a third held a white, warmed blanket at the ready to cover her.
"We were attacked by Dacians. One of them had the Reaper's Blade." Malek squeezed Gina's hand. "Is she going to be okay?"
"Reaper's Blade?" The doctor's eyes grew wide.
Surely, the doctor had heard of the Reaper's Blade.
"Yes. You have a cure for the poison, right?" He gripped the doctor's white coat with his free hand. "Surely, we have a remedy that will save her!"
By now, the doctor's face had grown so pale he looked translucent. "No, Malek. I'm afraid such a remedy doesn't exist."
"Something! Anything! You can't let her die!" The futility of his request began to sink in. He was whistling to the wind.
The doctor put his hand on Malek's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Malek. There's nothing we can do but make her as comfortable as we can."
All he could do was stare at the doctor. Just stare and shake his head while his mind searched for a way to save his beloved Gina. Nothing. He got nothing. The cause was lost.
"We're ready to move her to a private room," one of the nurses said, obviously aware from the conversation that there was nothing they could do for her in the trauma unit.
The doctor led them to a quiet room in the back and transferred her to a bed.
"You can lie beside her if you like, Malek," the doctor said softly. "In fact," he cleared his throat awkwardly, "I would encourage it…after we get you in dry clothes, of course." He paused. "I'll have the nurses bring in a pair of scrubs you can change into."
The lump in Malek's throat prevented him from speaking, but he jerked his head in acknowledgement.
"Should I get Micah?" The doctor was fully versed on who reported to whom.
Malek bobbed his head in a tight nod again and averted his tear-laden gaze. He was about to break down on a colossal scale and didn't want any witnesses.
As if reading his mind, the doctor cleared his throat again, turned, and quietly left the room.
As soon as the door hissed shut, Malek fell to his knees beside the bed and let loose an outpouring of emotion unlike anything man had ever seen. Tears gushed down his cheeks, and harsh sobs racked his chest and shoulders with uncontrollable spasms, and the pain of nearly a thousand years erupted from his soul in what felt like a nuclear explosion. How could so much pain and suffering be contained inside his body…inside such a small space?
But there was no denying how horribly he suffered now. He was truly lost. Or, rather, he would be by morning. Because as soon as Gina passed over, his life would end. One way or another, he was dead.
How stupid he was. So damned fucking stupid! He had fought mating Gina for weeks. What if he hadn't? What if he had succumbed that first day…that very moment in her cell when he knew in his heart he had mated her? If he had simply given in and claimed her…if he had completed the mating between them the moment he knew she was his, he never would have taken to whoring, he never would have been at Four Alarm the other night, and he never would have met Lorena. And if he had never met Lorena, she would have had no cause to join forces with the Dacians and lead them to Gina, and Searcy would never have had the chance to put his evil blade to Gina's sacred blood.
This was his fault. His selfish pride and refusal to let go of the past had killed her. He had killed his precious, beautiful mate.
How much time did he have left with her? Already, she labored to breathe.
Where was the nurse with dry clothes, damn it? He wanted to be in bed beside her. He wanted to hold her as long as he could before she was gone. Couldn't they hurry up and get him what he needed so he could be with her, for God's sake?
The door flew open.
Malek lifted his head and looked up at the horrified face of his oldest friend. Micah's expression was one of shock, dismay, disbelief.
"Oh my God," he said, his gaze jumping to Gina and then back to him. "Oh my God. Malek."
For the first time in forever—and most likely the last—Malek needed his friend. He needed Micah and his strength now more than he ever had.
Slowly, he rose to his feet. "Micah…" He blinked and took a deep, shaky breath. "God, Micah, I'm so sorry."
All their fighting, and all the awful things they'd said to one another fell away as Micah rushed forward and yanked Malek into a firm, body breaking hug.
"Don't you apologize for a damn thing, Malek." Micah gripped him so hard it hurt, but in such a good way. "You have nothing to be sorry for, you hear me. Don't you apologize to me or anyone else, you got that, brother? More than anyone else, I know what you were going through. I get it. Do you hear me?"
"You were right. You were right about all of it." He knew this was his last chance to say everything he had to say to Micah before his mind fell into the permanent wasteland of suffering and loss. "I love her. I have since I met her. I thought I could deny it, but I couldn't. I've been such a fool, and if I had only listened to you…" A sense of desperation pounded through his veins, and he felt panicked. There was so much to say…so much to convey before there was no more time left.
Micah pushed him away and tapped his temple with a shake of his head. "You don't need to tell me anything, my brother. I see it all. Right here. I see everything."
Which meant Micah saw what he wanted to do as soon as Gina passed. "I can't live without her, Micah. And I won't go through the hell I just went through over Carmen again. I won't."
For a long, tense moment, nothing was said as the weight of reality sank in, and then Micah sighed in defeat. Tears bloomed and glistened in his eyes, and his jaw clinched in a hard line as he fought to hold his own emotions in check. This was good-bye, and Micah knew it.
"I want you to pull the trigger, Micah. I want you to be the one to do it, because God knows, you won't miss."
Micah's chin quivered, and his mouth worked hard as he blinked and looked away. He sniffed heavily before running his palms down his face to wipe away his tears. "Fuck," he bit out quietly between his teeth. "Don't ask me to do that. Please don't ask me to do that." He sniffed again and looked back at Malek, his eyes bloodshot with his efforts to restrain his grief.
"Please, Micah. Please. Do this for me. This one last favor."
Micah regarded him, clearly losing the battle to keep his composure. After a moment's hesitation, he bowed his head and clasped Malek's hand like the brothers-in-arms they were. "You can count on me. You need me, and I'm there. Just like old times."
"Just like old times." A choked sob broke lose as Malek pulled Micah in again and the two embraced. Two friends who had lost each other for too long, to finally find one another again at the end.
After a long moment, Micah pushed back and wiped his face again as he took a deep breath and nodded toward Gina, who lay in a drugged sleep. "Go be with her, Malek. Spend what time you have with your mate." He spoke softly, his voice thick with compassion.
"I can't. Not until
they bring me dry scrubs." And why oh fucking why was it taking so long for them to do that?
Micah stepped back and pulled off his sweater. He handed it over before stripping out of his pants and holding them out. All he had on were his boxer briefs and a black T-shirt. "Take them. You need my clothes more than I do right now. I'll wear the scrubs."
The gesture was enough to break Malek's hard exterior just a little bit more. Here was his commander and friend, someone who had put up with a lot of shit from Malek for the past several hundred years, and particularly in the last few weeks, and the guy would still literally give him the shirt off his back to help him. Micah's actions humbled him.
Malek cleared his throat and glanced down at the floor as he shoved off his soaked pants and began pulling Micah's on. "I don't deserve a friend like you." He pulled off his drenched shirt and pulled Micah's warm sweater over his head.
"Fuck that," Micah said. The words came like a term of endearment. "We were always there for each other, and that hasn't changed. You had my back, and I had yours, and I'm still there for you. When you need me, I'll be ready."
Malek looked up to find Micah grinning sadly at him.
"We're brothers," Micah said. "And we'll always be brothers, no matter that we came from different parents."
Unable to speak, Malek gave a humble nod. The two clasped hands and forearms, and Micah gripped the back of Malek's head with this free hand and pulled their foreheads together.
"Brothers," he said again quietly, staring him dead in the eyes.
Malek blinked, because he couldn't speak through the lump in his throat. This was a conversation he and Micah had needed to have for a long time. How unfortunate that it came under such morbid circumstances.
"I love you," Micah said, and then kissed his forehead. "You're my blood. I don't care what anyone says."
"I love you, too, old friend." Malek gave him one final embrace and broke away with a glance back at Gina, who was still passed out from whatever the nurses had given her.
