Sanctuary Unbound: Red Rock Pass, Book 4

by Moira Rogers

  “Mm-hmm. That’s the part I’m curious about.”

  “Not surprised. Not many vampires stray out of New England these days.”

  “So you won’t mind enlightening me.”

  His gaze dropped to the table, studying the salt shaker as he upended an unhealthy amount of salt onto his food. “What do you want to know? The how, the why, or the how much?”

  “Yes.” She tilted her head and smiled wryly. “I’m the pack doctor. These things matter to me.”

  “I’m not going to lure your pack mates into the woods for a nibble, if that’s what you’re worried about. I need some blood if I’m going to be walking into a fight, but Dylan’s already offered.”

  Protectiveness shot through her. “He did, did he?”

  One of Adam’s eyebrows rose. “I’m sorry, do I need your permission to accept his offer?”

  “I have no claim on Dylan.” It would take the wolf inside her a little time to catch up with that, but it didn’t change the facts. “Why him?”

  “I’ve talked to five wolves from your pack,” he murmured, holding up fingers as he counted each one off. “Dylan, Joe, Brynn, Gavin and Sam. Three of them are hurt or sick, and Dylan said Samantha got herself tangled up in a binding spell with a hungry vamp on the other end.”

  She found herself inexplicably taken aback by his explanation. “If it’s going to potentially affect anyone’s health, you come to me. It’s what I do.”

  Adam frowned. “Come to you? To find another willing donor?”

  “Of course. I could do it myself, if I needed to.”

  “Do what yourself? Find me a donor? Or be a donor?”

  “Be a—” Her voice cracked, and she took a bracing gulp of water. “Be a donor. Hell, we could do it here in my office. Or do you…need to drink from someone?”

  He looked like he was trying not to smile. “The blood is mostly incidental. It’s the power I need, especially if I’m going to be fighting one of my own. The power comes from the willing gift of blood or the violent taking of it. I’ve never had much luck with drawing blood and saving it for later.”

  Cindy had encountered plenty of things that were more of the realm of magic than they were of the physical. It had been one of the hardest things to reconcile as a doctor and a werewolf. “What’s your usual ritual, then?”

  “My usual ritual is not applicable in this situation.” That amusement in his eyes had faded, replaced with something almost like self-consciousness. “Not with Dylan, in any case. I’m hoping Sasha might be able to come up with some sort of magical ritual to enhance the power of the gift, now that she has access to her books.”

  She’d learned to recognize evasion in her patients, and she saw it now in Adam. “How do you usually obtain the power, Adam? The blood?”

  He sighed, a soft, tired sound. “From a lover, Dr. Shepherd.”

  It was so obvious that she felt like an idiot. “Oh.”

  “Yes.” His mouth twitched. “Would you like me to attempt to explain the relationship between sex and magic? I’m not sure I know the details, but I could try.”

  “Wolves have plenty of connection between sex and magic. It’s not an—an alien concept.”

  “I know. Most of my companions came from the local werewolf pack.” He was definitely laughing at her. “It can be a mutually beneficial arrangement under the right circumstances.”

  “I see.” She capped her bottle and rose. “I’ll talk to Sasha, see if she manages to come up with anything. For the time being, I think you should consider me your potential donor. Just to avoid complications.”

  His gaze stayed fixed on her with an almost tangible weight, and there was no mistaking his sharp interest or the heat in his stare. “It will be my pleasure.”

  “Yes?” She had to get away from him before the throb of lust twisting through her made her do something crazy like ask him into her bed. “I suppose we’ll find out.”

  “I suppose we will.” He seemed to shake himself, and the oddly formal tone of his words vanished. “Now if it’s okay with you, I’m going to eat. It was a damn long drive and I hate automatic transmissions.”

  “Make yourself at home.” The words came out husky, almost inviting, and Cindy hoped he couldn’t sense her arousal as she turned to the door. “Good night.”

  “Good night, Dr. Shepherd.”

  Adam was used to being the oldest person in a room. What he wasn’t used to was how tired it made him feel.

  He leaned back in his stout wooden chair and eyed Samantha, who sat at the opposite end of the long table, her fingers curled around the arms of a chair that carried Gavin’s scent. His own chair held hints of Samantha’s favored shampoo, making it clear she’d abandoned her usual spot for the symbolic place of power.

  Gavin was tucked safely back in the doctor’s house with Brynn standing careful watch, and her absence made it easier to deal with Joe’s forbidding presence to his left. Adam didn’t think Joe would ever believe that the power trapped inside Brynn as a wolf turned at the full moon wasn’t enough to push Adam over the edge. Her blood was a temptation, to be sure, but self-control was a virtue Adam had been familiar with longer than Joe had been alive.

  Of course, Joe could have chosen his spot to put himself between Adam and Cindy. Cindy avoided looking at him entirely, seemingly distracted by her murmured conversation with Keith, who sat flanked by her and Sam. Across from Keith was a sweet-faced brunette who radiated power. Adam had been unsurprised to discover that she was Keith’s mate in addition to being Brynn’s sister; Abby had an unshakable core of magic that reminded Adam of the young alpha female from Bedagi Creek.

  And next to Abby… Adam hid a sigh as he caught sight of Dylan’s fingers curling around Sasha’s. The lovebirds were still playing footsie, and no one at the table seemed bothered by it.

  No one except Cindy. An almost tangible aura of sadness hung around her, though the same expression lingered on her face when she looked at Keith and Abby, as well. She looked lonely. Isolated. Sympathy rose and, for once, Adam didn’t bother to push it away.

  He tried to catch her gaze, but Joe glared at him instead, a brittle warning in his eyes. Adam responded with an amused smile carefully calculated to be just the right side of challenging.

  It would have been perfect too, if Sam hadn’t chosen that moment to look at him. Her dark eyes flashed, annoyance and exasperation in equal measure. “For the love of God, does a man need to reach his second century before he stops acting like a boy?”

  She sounded frazzled, on edge and off balance, and the unsteady flare of magic that accompanied the words made everyone at the table look uneasy. Everyone but Keith, that was, who proved his worthiness as Gavin’s successor by sliding a hand over Sam’s fingers and smiling. “None of us will ever stop acting like boys, Sam. You love yelling at us too much, and we like making you happy.”

  “That’s the excuse they’ll use, anyway.” Abby scooted her chair closer to Sam’s. “Say the word, and I’ll take them all out back and smack them around a little bit.”

  “I’m not ruling it out.” Sam shot Adam a look that clearly begged him to behave, and the weariness and worry that had etched lines around her eyes made it impossible to do anything but acknowledge her silent plea with a quiet nod. As soon as he did, she relaxed marginally. “I’ve asked you all here because something’s going on that everyone needs to know about. Cindy’s going to explain the details.”

  The doctor did look at him then, a fleeting glance that she quickly turned on the others seated around the table. “Gavin’s sick.” She seemed to anticipate the murmur that swept the room, and she waited until it quieted before continuing. “He’s had three heart attacks, and each one is doing more to damage his heart. It’s—” She swallowed hard. “It’s not anything I can fix.”

  Since the news wasn’t news to him, Adam watched the others. From the stoic look on Joe’s face, he’d already known, and both Keith and Abby seemed more interested in supporting Sam. The onl
y two who looked surprised were Dylan and Sasha, which meant the gathering was about something else entirely.

  Sam took a deep breath and closed her eyes, and Adam tensed against the words he suddenly knew she was about to speak. “Red Rock’s at war, but leading us in war is going to kill Gavin and he knows it. If this were any other time I’d take his place, but my ego isn’t so big I can’t see the truth. We need a warrior.”

  Joe spoke. “Which means we need Keith. He’s the one who was raised for this. He’s the one who knows how to do it.”

  Silence reigned as Keith stared across the table at Abby. She stared back and finally smiled. “He’s right, sweetie. You’ve always been the one, and I’ll—I’ll help you any way I can. With everything.”

  Keith nodded. While everyone was watching him, Adam watched Cindy. She looked tense, almost self-conscious, not to mention worried.

  Sasha sighed and turned her attention to Adam. “What about the vampire in Helena?”

  “Can’t say much until I find out more.” Adam shifted uncomfortably. “Didn’t you say there was someone in town that the vampire had formed a blood bond with?”

  “Justine,” Abby answered, her expression grave. “When Recco took over the Helena pack, he used her to feed the vampire.”

  “For how long?”

  “We’re not sure, and she can’t quite remember. Weeks.”

  Weeks of feeding would have left a taint even magic couldn’t erase. “Can I see her? I might be able to tell something about the vampire. How strong he is, at least, or what sort of power he’s using.”

  “It’ll be fine if Sasha and I can be there,” Cindy told him quietly. “She’ll need us.”

  “Of course. When can—?”

  Keith jerked to his feet, his gaze whipping toward the door. Abby sprang up after him, and Joe’s chair tipped back to the floor as he rose as well. Cindy stiffened, frozen for a moment, her hands clenched around the edge of the table.

  Dylan went pale just as the first hints of sound tickled the edge of Adam’s hearing. Shouts, angry male voices raised in fear and pain. Keith shot toward the door, Dylan hard at his heels, and only then did the voices outside crystallize into words—someone screaming for Dylan, and help.

  There was a backpack in the corner by the door, and Cindy snatched it up on her way out. Only Sam and Sasha remained, and Sam grabbed the witch’s hand before she could rise. “Wait.”

  She was clearly talking to the girl and not to him, but it wouldn’t have mattered if she hadn’t been. Adam strode toward the door, unsettled by the tight knot of apprehension in his stomach.

  Outside, he found chaos. Unfamiliar werewolves formed a ragged half-circle around Dylan’s hunched form. Cindy skidded to a stop next to him, and Dylan moved aside enough for Adam to catch a glimpse of a bloody, torn body. Enhanced hearing did little good with so many people talking at once, but Adam caught snippets—Keith questioning one of the local wolves and Dylan whispering soothing, comforting words edged with worry.

  The wind shifted and the smell hit him, thick, fresh blood and some that had been shed hours ago, and the scent of fear, underlain with a tingle of magic he recognized all too easily. A bond—a blood bond, weak but present, one that tied the injured man to a vampire.

  Adam moved forward and knelt next to Cindy before asking the question he already knew the answer to. “He’s not healing like he should, is he?”

  “Hard to tell.” She’d opened the bag already and was packing layer after layer of gauze pads against the boy’s shoulder and mangled arm. “Major injuries can take longer.”

  She was lying, but the kid on the ground was barely coherent, much less in any shape to notice. He clutched at Dylan’s arm, eyes wild. “More. All of us. At the pass—”

  “Bobby, slow down.” Anxiety made Dylan’s usually calm voice sound nervous. “Who’s at the pass?”

  “The pack. All of us—all of us who could run from Recco. Injured and children…”

  Joe swore. “I can’t go. Brynn—”

  “We’ll round up a few others,” Abby told him. “You need to stay here and keep an eye on things anyway, Joe.” She touched Dylan’s shoulder. “Sasha can help them set up here. They’ll need her.”

  Dylan looked torn for a few seconds, then jerked to his feet. “I’m going with you. If they’re from Helena, they’ll know me. Cindy, can you tell Sasha?”

  She didn’t look up. “I’ll take care of it. Go. When you come back, head for the bar. There’s more room there than at my house.”

  A hand landed on Adam’s shoulder, and he glanced up to find Keith there. “What about you?”

  He shook his head. “This boy’s got a blood bond with the vampire. If you want him to start healing, I need to break it.”

  “What does it take?” Cindy asked. “To form a bond like that, I mean. Can a vampire have more than one at a time?”

  “Not without a witch, not if he wants to stay sane. But if he doesn’t care…”

  “We’ll do what we can.” She brushed her hair back from her forehead with the back of her wrist. “What do you need to begin?”

  “Let’s move him first. Where are we going?”

  “Inside for now. If we manage to stabilize him, we can move him to the bar and wait for the others.”

  He picked up the injured wolf—Bobby, Dylan had called him—and carried him toward the house. The kid was covered in blood, and Adam couldn’t stop his reaction to it, even when he tried to block out the scent. His mouth watered, his heart beat a little too fast, and every one of the six days since his last feeding felt like a weight around his neck. He didn’t need the blood, but he still wanted it.

  Then again, if he was going to be snapping another vampire’s blood bonds, he wouldn’t make it his usual three weeks between blood donations. At this rate he wouldn’t last another three days.

  A problem for later.

  Inside, they found Sam and Sasha smoothing a clean sheet over the table. Sam gestured sharply, and Adam spoke as he eased the boy to the covered surface. “Bobby. From Helena.”

  “Dylan’s roommate,” Sasha murmured.

  Cindy tore open his shirt and pressed her hands methodically over Bobby’s abdomen, obviously checking for more injuries. “The arm is bad, Adam, but he might keep it if you can cut him loose from the bond.”

  Cut her loose. The words echoed in his mind as he dropped a hand to Bobby’s head. Cindy’s smooth, bland midwestern accent sounded nothing like the broad vowels and precise enunciation of a Boston debutante, but memories drifted up from decades before, a frantic female voice, begging for help. Cut her loose. The rest of us will die if you don’t.

  Adam closed his eyes and forced his attention to the present, to the boy under his hand and the magic twisted around him. “Even if I break the bond, he’s going to be weak.”

  “We’ll have to hope for the best.”

  “I can help,” Sasha whispered. “Not much, not if there might be people coming in who are worse off, but…a little.”

  Bobby moved suddenly, his hand shooting out to close around Cindy’s wrist. “No.” His eyes were wild. “I’d rather lose my arm. Don’t—don’t waste power—” A rough swallow. “My girlfriend and her kid are out there. Hurt. And more, so many more—”

  Cindy nodded slowly. “I understand. We’re looking to save your life right now, that’s all.”

  He relaxed and shuddered, and Adam used his distraction to slip beneath the shields all werewolves possessed, whether they realized it or not.

  Bobby clearly didn’t—or maybe his protections were so compromised by the vampire who’d been preying on him that they were of no use at all. Either way, it was easy to find the core of the boy’s magic, a weak, timid flicker mingled with a power that resonated with Adam’s own energy. Death magic, cold and sterile, and the opposite of what lived inside the werewolves.

  Adam unfocused his eyes slightly, just enough to let the currents in the room overlay what was actually there. For a second,
Sasha flared, bright, colorful light that pulsed warm and cool in turn. Witches and wizards were always rainbows, full of life and death, though Sasha had obviously embraced the blues and greens of the wild over the blood red of death.

  He tried to turn his attention back to Bobby, but his gaze snagged on Cindy. All werewolf, all cool colors mixed with the golden glow of strength. Magnetic. Potent. The hunger inside him rose, tangled desire for a woman with craving for the sort of power she represented. With her blood, freely given, he’d be unstoppable.

  It made her a dangerous temptation, one he’d do well to avoid.

  Bobby groaned, and Adam forced himself to find that thread of vampiric magic again, this time following it back to its source. Geography meant little with the flows and currents of energy, but his otherworldly sight couldn’t extend beyond the physical. Instead he traced the small thread back by feeling alone, riding it instead of severing it, in hopes of catching a glimpse of what they stood against.

  He felt anger first. Frustration and a frightening determination coupled with reckless arrogance. The trickle of power flowed to its source, and Adam sucked in a breath as he sensed dozens upon dozens of other connections, all stretched thin but still feeding the bloated monster at the center of the grotesque web.

  Bonds like this required complex spells to maintain balance, spells only a witch could provide. Without it, one long-term connection to a werewolf was madness. This many crossed the line into insanity—the kind of insanity that would throb in the vampire’s aura and bleed into anyone sensitive to the touch of magic.

  Severing the first connection would be easy, but it wouldn’t go unnoticed. Awaken the sleeping dragon. The vampire would fight for every bond after that, and Adam would pay the price.

  No choice. The boy under his hands would die if he didn’t cut the link. And every bond he broke would take away a source of power, make his opponent weaker. Adam did it in an instant, snatching the bond as if attempting to bind the boy to himself, then releasing it before the attachment could cement.

  He had to have imagined the roar of outrage echoing back across the intervening distance. Adam squeezed his eyes shut until his equilibrium returned, then opened them and met Sasha’s gaze. “He’s bound himself to dozens of wolves. Maybe a hundred.”