by Lisa Edmonds
I opened my eyes and looked up into Sean’s bright golden gaze. Charles stood beside us. We were in the lot down the street from Hawthorne’s. Sean’s truck was parked next to my car, and he was on his knees, holding me. We were hidden from view by a large black SUV I recognized as belonging to Charles. Down the street, I saw red and blue flashing lights and the sky looked strangely orange. The fire must be massive.
My clothes were tattered and bloody. I vaguely recalled thinking my arm was broken and I’d been burned on my back, but nothing hurt except my chest. Charles must have given me his blood to heal me; my mouth tasted like copper and wine. Unfortunately, neither the vamp blood nor a healing spell could clear the smoke from my lungs.
“Hey,” I wheezed, then broke into another coughing fit. My throat and lungs burned and it felt like there was a tight band around my ribs, keeping me from drawing in a full breath. I closed my eyes and struggled to breathe.
Heavy footsteps came running up to us. “Give her this,” Charles said.
I forced my eyes open again. The vampire handed Sean a mask connected to a small portable oxygen tank that Bryan was holding. The enforcer was breathing hard, his face smudged with soot. There were medical facilities in the lower levels of Hawthorne’s. Charles must have sent Bryan back in through the parking garage entrance to get the tank.
Sean put the mask over my nose and mouth. “Breathe slowly,” he said, his voice tight. I forced myself to inhale the oxygen, though I could only take small breaths. Gradually, the burning in my lungs eased.
When I stopped coughing, Charles crouched next to us. Sean growled low in warning but the vampire ignored him.
I still couldn’t get a full breath, but I pushed the mask aside and reached for him. “Charles.”
Sean stiffened as Charles leaned over me. I touched the vampire’s face with a sooty and bloody hand, leaving streaks on his pale, cool skin. I slid my hand to his neck and drew him closer. He met my gaze with eyes that shone with silvery light. Everything else faded as we stared at each other.
“You bit me,” I rasped.
He tilted his head, his eyes boring into mine. “Yes.”
Sean went perfectly still, his eyes flaring bright gold. A low, almost atavistic rumble started deep in his chest and the arms around me tightened. The air crackled with power from both of them.
I made a choked sound that had nothing to do with my smoke-filled lungs. “You bastard.” I pushed my blood magic out through my fingertips like razors and ripped out Charles’s throat.
Cool blood sprayed across my face and upper body as the vampire fell back, his hands on the wound. For the first time since I had met him, he looked shocked. Blood gushed down the front of his suit.
Bryan started toward me, his face darkening. Sean braced himself and snarled at him, his muscles coiled as he prepared to fight.
Unable to speak with his vocal cords torn out, Charles held out a hand.
The enforcer stopped. “Sir, she attacked you. You could have been killed.”
Charles moved his hand away from the gory remains of his throat and stood smoothly. The wound was already beginning to heal; in five or ten minutes, there would be no sign it had ever existed. “If she had meant to kill me, she would have taken off my head,” he said, his words garbled.
His statement was greeted with silence. I wasn’t sure what Sean was thinking, but it was clear I’d just graduated from minor concern to major threat in Bryan’s eyes. Within the hour, every enforcer who worked for Charles would know, and then the news would spread to the rest of the Court. I could already see the change in the way Bryan was looking at me: assessing, calculating. Respectful.
Charles gave me a small bow. How did the son of a bitch manage to look so elegant with his throat torn out and his clothes covered with blood? “We cannot linger here. This is a matter you and I will discuss privately at another time. You will proceed with your investigation in the manner we discussed. My employees will investigate this attack on my property.”
I wanted very much to have the discussion about him biting me now, but the longer we stayed in the parking lot, the more likely we were to be spotted by passing police. Plus, I still couldn’t get a full breath and felt lightheaded.
“It was a dark-colored van,” I told them, my voice rough with smoke. “And a pipe bomb.” I described it the best I could.
“This is very helpful,” Charles said. “For now, I must speak with other members of the Court and determine our strategy for managing the situation.” He handed Sean a small bag. “Here are her things. Take the tank and drive her home. See that she rests. One of my employees will deliver her vehicle within the hour. If you need additional oxygen tanks or other medical supplies, we will provide them.”
Sean gave him a curt nod, gathered me in his arms, and stood. Charles headed to his SUV with Bryan at his side.
Exhaustion tugged at me. I laid my head against Sean’s chest. “I don’t want to get smoke and blood in your truck.” My voice was little more than a whisper.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s seen worse.” Sean brought me around to the passenger side, braced his knee against the truck, and opened the door. He lifted me inside, got me belted in, and shut the door.
In the scant moments it took for him to put the oxygen tank and duffel bag into the back seat and walk around to the driver’s side, I was already half-asleep, my head drooping.
“Hey,” Sean said, gently shaking my shoulder. “Stay awake, Alice, at least until I can get you home. You have to let us in past the wards.” He turned the key in the ignition and the truck rumbled to life.
“Can we go to your house?”
He paused, his hand on the gearshift. “I figured you’d want to be home in your own bed while you recover.”
“My house is so far away,” I said. “Please. I’ll just sleep on your couch.” I closed my eyes and laid my head back against the seat.
Sean muttered something and threw the truck into gear. He pulled out onto the street, accelerating away from the flashing lights. I didn’t know if he was headed to his house or mine, but I was too tired to care. The last thing I felt before I fell asleep was Sean’s hand, squeezing mine and holding tight.
20
I woke when Sean unfastened my seatbelt and scooped me up. I blinked blearily and saw we were parked in his garage. “Your house,” I murmured.
“My house,” Sean confirmed. He opened the door to the kitchen and went inside. He carried me through the kitchen, past the living room, and to the stairs.
“Couch,” I insisted.
“No,” he said flatly, taking the steps two at a time.
At the top of the stairs, he went down a short hall and into a large bedroom that was dark except for a faint light coming from the bathroom.
“Guest room?” I asked.
“Alice, hush.” He laid me gently on the bed.
“Don’t,” I said, grabbing at his hands. I felt dizzy and couldn’t quite focus. “I’m dirty and bloody.”
Sean bent over and kissed my forehead. “Do you think I care about that? Stop worrying.”
He went into the bathroom and flipped on the light. Cabinets opened and closed, bottles rattled, and then I heard water running in the tub. When he came back, he sat next to me on the bed. “I don’t want you to have to sleep covered in blood. Can you stay awake long enough for a bath?”
“I think so.” I tried to push myself up but didn’t get very far before I fell back with a frustrated sound. My breathing sounded rough and I coughed.
“Take it easy,” Sean said. “I’ll clean you up, if it’s all right with you.”
What I really wanted was to sleep, but I reeked of smoke and I could feel blood drying all over my skin and in my hair. It was uncomfortable, and more importantly, Sean didn’t deserve to have to throw away all his bedding.
“Okay,” I said.
Sean squeezed my hand. He unzipped my boots and chuckled when he found the knives tucked in them. He spun them
expertly, one in each hand, testing their weight and balance, then set them aside. “Other than your boots, I think the rest of your clothes are a loss.”
“Just get rid of them, I guess.”
Sean could have just torn off what was left of my clothes; instead, he unbuttoned my shirt and eased me out of it, then took off my jeans and socks.
He paused. “Do you want to leave your top and underwear on?”
“Can’t get clean with them on,” I said sleepily.
He pulled my tank top off over my head, then raised my torso and unfastened my bra. He kept his eyes on mine as he took it off and set it aside. He slid my underwear off, dropped them into the pile of ruined clothing on the floor, and picked me up.
Sean carried me into the bathroom. It was all black-and-white tile, with a large glass shower and a garden tub. He tested the water temperature, adjusted the hot-water tap, and sat me down in the water. It turned gray from the soot.
He unbraided my hair, leaned me back into the water with his arm behind my shoulders, and used his free hand to rinse the blood and soot from my hair. Then he sat me up and squeezed some shampoo into my hair as the tub drained. I closed my eyes.
Sean refilled the tub with clean water as he washed my hair with gentle fingers.
“How did you find me?” I asked.
“I heard the explosion as I was leaving my house and worried it might be Hawthorne’s. I got there as fast as I could. I saw your car parked in the lot and no sign of you, so I ran for the bar. Lean back.”
I let him rinse my hair. When that was done, he reached for a washcloth and a bar of unscented soap. I kept my eyes closed so I didn’t have to figure out whether I should look him in the eyes as he washed me. He scrubbed me gently without lingering on my breasts or anywhere else. I was torn between wishing he would and feeling grateful he didn’t. Not that sex was anywhere on my radar tonight, but I couldn’t help but remember other times when his hands had been on my naked body.
The hot bath was making it hard to stay awake, despite the feeling of Sean’s hands on me. “I thought I was going to die,” I murmured suddenly.
Silence. “But you didn’t.”
He left me to sit in the soapy water while he stripped off his bloody shirt and stuffed it into a garbage bag with my ruined clothes. He went into the bedroom and came back wearing pajama pants. I watched him wash his arms, face, and hair at the sink, then dry off quickly before pulling on a clean Led Zeppelin T-shirt.
Sean sat on the edge of the tub and draped a towel across his lap. He picked me up, sat me on his knees, and wrapped me in another large towel, rubbing me dry. He towel-dried my hair, then carried me into the bedroom. A long-sleeved T-shirt and a pair of drawstring pajama pants were lying on the bed.
When I was dressed in Sean’s clothes, he settled me into the bed and pulled the covers up to my chin, then returned to the bathroom to drain the tub and hang the damp towels over the shower.
When it got quiet, I turned my head. He was bracing himself with both hands on the bathroom counter, head lowered and shoulders rigid with tension. He seemed angry, but I wasn’t sure about what or toward whom.
He took several deep breaths before he raised his head and headed back toward the bedroom, turning off the light and plunging the room into near-darkness.
Before he could reach the bed, I was seized by a violent fit of coughing that quickly turned into a struggle for breath.
Sean swore. “The oxygen.” He disappeared.
He was gone less than a minute, but by the time he came back I was gasping for air. He hurried to the side of the bed, setting the tank down. He turned a knob and held the mask to my face.
“Try to breathe slowly,” he reminded me, sitting on the edge of the bed.
I inhaled the oxygen and the coughing subsided. When I was breathing normally again, Sean took the mask away and turned off the tank. “Why don’t you use a healing spell?” he asked.
“Because a healing spell can’t clear the smoke from my lungs any more than Charles’s blood could,” I rasped. “The damage is healed, but I’ll have to cough the smoke and particles out the old-fashioned way.”
With difficulty, I rolled onto my side, turning my back to him as he put the mask down on the nightstand. He came around to the other side of the bed and laid down on top of the covers, facing me.
We lay like that for a long time, staring at each other. There were a million things I wanted to say, but I couldn’t find the words.
Finally, Sean broke the silence. “I thought I’d lost you. When I saw what was left of the bar, I was sure there was no way you’d survived…and then you walked out of the fire. I’ve never seen anything so terrifying and beautiful in my life.”
Lake would have been grilling me about how I’d survived the blast and walked through fire and smoke. Sean didn’t ask me any questions. It was enough for him that I could do those things.
I took a raspy breath. “Will you hold me?”
Sean rose, pulled back the covers, and climbed in next to me. I burrowed my face into his shirt and he held me—gently at first, then tighter as I began to shake.
When the tears started, he stayed quiet and let me weep. I cried silently and for a long time. It was the second time I had cried in front of Sean, when I hadn’t cried in front of anyone else in more than a decade.
Eventually, I cried myself to sleep.
My flesh was burning.
I writhed and screamed and pulled desperately at the spell cuffs holding me in place, but they held fast, despite the blood that ran from my wrists where the metal had dug into my skin. My grandfather’s slim coil of fire was wrapped around my forearm.
All I could smell was the stench of my own burning skin. The pain was bad, worse than anything I’d ever experienced. It was a big contract. Moses wanted the money, and he wanted it known his granddaughter had been the one who fulfilled it. No one would ever question my abilities again after this. He could pick and choose which contracts he accepted. He could use me as a threat against both his enemies and his allies.
The coil left my arm. I hung from the cuffs, sobbing. The skin on my arm was blistered and red and blackened.
Moses looked at me with eyes like glacier ice. My mother’s eyes had been that same color, but hers were beautiful, like a winter sun. His had never held anything but the promise of misery and suffering.
I turned my head and threw up.
“Are we agreed?” he asked me. “You’ll do the work?”
In the real memory, I’d said yes. He’d had me taken down and healed so I could do the spellcraft that was needed. At the time, I was fifteen years old.
In the dream, I said no.
The fire coil came back, but this time it was around my neck and it was a cold fire—the kind he’d never been able to produce. I screamed and screamed as the cold spread through me, burning me from the inside out, consuming me a little at a time, until I was nothing but pain and fire and ice.
“Alice. Alice, wake up.” Sean’s voice cut through the memory of pain and fire.
I rolled over onto my back, my fists clenched in the sheets and covered with a cold sweat. Sean knelt on the bed beside me. He’d apparently been in the middle of getting dressed, because his hair was still wet from a shower and he wore an undershirt and jeans, left unbuttoned.
It was the smell of him that brought me back to the present, that unmistakable scent of forest that I hadn’t been able to forget, no matter how hard I tried.
“Are you all right?” he asked, brushing my hair back from my face.
“No,” I choked out and reached for him.
He came to me without hesitation, his mouth finding mine and driving the chill away. Heat spread like wildfire and I pulled him on top of me, my hands sliding under his shirt and across his chest, feeling the familiar lines of his muscles as my nails dug into his skin.
Sean broke our kiss. His eyes glowed. “You almost died last night.”
“All the more reason to li
ve.” I pulled his shirt off over his head, then slid my hands down his chest toward his jeans. They were out of my reach, so I hooked my toes into his waistband and pushed them down to his hips. The sight of his body was enough to make me shiver hard with desire. He was magnificent.
He resisted, moving so I couldn’t push his jeans down any farther. “You’re hurt.”
“Charles’s blood healed me. All that’s left is the smoke.”
“You drank more vampire blood,” he reminded me.
“I know what I want,” I told him, my voice husky.
He took my face in his hands and stared into my eyes. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to make me forget all the bullshit in my head.”
Sean kissed me again. I nibbled his bottom lip, drawing blood, then licked it with the tip of my tongue. Golden magic washed over us, as if I’d summoned his wolf with that single touch.
His hand slid under my top and over my ribs to my breast. His thumb ghosted over my nipple, sending an electric current through me. I gasped and arched up against him, desperate to feel his body on mine.
His touch felt controlled, as if he was holding himself back, being careful. I didn’t want him to be careful. I wanted Sean to be himself, to be the alpha with his lover. I wanted to know him, the real him, not who he thought he needed to be for me.
I didn’t know how to say it, so I grabbed his arms, lowered my shields just enough, and sent him what I wanted.
Sean jerked and lifted his head. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Don’t hold back, not ever again.”
He tore away the shirt he’d loaned me, watching my face. Whatever he saw in my eyes must have reassured him, because he lowered his mouth to my bare breasts. I cried out and reached for him.
Lightning fast, he pinned my wrists to the bed, holding me down as he teased and tormented me with his mouth. I writhed and bucked underneath him until he moved his body on top of mine to hold me still.
As if he’d realized I was reaching a point where additional teasing would be more torture than pleasure, he let go of my wrists and ripped my borrowed pants, throwing them to the floor. He rose above me, eyes glowing, all power and danger. For the first time, I saw his wolf in his eyes when he looked at me. I reached up and touched his face. He rubbed his chin against my hand, then drew my fingers into his mouth so he could bite them lightly.
