Kathryn rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you were very popular.”
“Were? I’m wounded. I’ll have you know I still am.”
“Right. I know what you’re doing,” she added, meeting his steady gaze at last.
“Besides lying here under this pile of rubble, you mean?”
“How badly are you injured, Lucas? The truth.”
“Ah, that. I’m afraid I’ve a few broken bones under all of this. And may I say, never having broken a bone before . . . it hurts like hell. No, no,” he added quickly, hearing Kathryn’s involuntary gasp of dismay, “I can handle it. Although I will expect some expressions of sympathy and admiration once this is all over with. Maybe you can stroke my forehead and say things like, ‘Poor baby. You were so strong.’ That sort of thing.” The strain in his voice belied his easy words, his voice thin and strangled as if he was struggling to find enough oxygen to speak.
“If we get out of here, I’ll stroke more than your forehead,” Kathryn promised.
“I find myself motivated, apart from your delicious blood donation, which will speed things up tremendously. Unfortunately, bones take time to heal, even for a vampire.” His jaw clenched suddenly, his eyes closing as his face tightened in obvious pain.
“Lucas?” He grunted in response, so she continued. “Why would Alex do that? Try to kill us like that, and kill himself, too.”
“Compulsion,” Lucas said, his voice low with effort. “His master and I are enemies. He used Alex to go after me. Alex had no choice in what he did. He wasn’t a bad guy.”
Kathryn wasn’t sure she agreed with that, but she wasn’t going to argue with him. “I think Nick and the guys are trying to get down here,” she said quickly, wanting to distract him. She lifted her chin to indicate the almost constant noise now coming from above.
“Nicholas has begun a rescue effort,” he confirmed in a strained whisper. “But that will take time.” His voice eased, his expression lightening, as if the pain had ebbed, at least temporarily. “We’ll be stuck here for hours yet. So, while the very special thing in my blood which makes me Vampire does its best to mend my broken bones, you can distract me by talking.”
“What should I say?”
Lucas didn’t open his eyes, but his mouth curled into a lopsided smile. “Tell me you love me,” he murmured.
Her heart twisted in her chest, but she couldn’t say the words. Not even jokingly. They were too close to a truth she didn’t want to acknowledge. “Please don’t die,” she whispered instead.
“I’m not going to die, a cuisle,” he said, letting his Irish lilt roll through the words. “I’ve still got to get you unbuttoned.”
“But how can you heal broken bones like this without—”
His golden eyes opened again, and she could read the pain in them, even as he spoke clearly. “You need to understand, Kathryn. The vampire symbiote doesn’t care that my legs are trapped under a huge, fucking pile of rocks. It just wants them working again, and it’s taking all of the healing power my body and blood possess to focus on that one task.”
“What does that mean?”
“Give me enough time, and I’ll move this damned pile of trash off my legs. But then the bones will want to start healing all over again, because they’re still under pressure right now, and not even the symbiote can make them straight and sound.”
“Oh, God. Lucas,” she breathed.
“Hold my hand,” he said, his eyes closing once more. “Distract me. Tell me what happened after your parents died.”
Kathryn stared at him in the dim glow of her small flashlight, searching his face for any sign that he was manipulating her, using their dire predicament to get her to open up to him, to tell him something personal.
But his face was pale, even for him, and there were lines of pain creasing the corners of his closed eyes. His breathing was strained, and she thought about how hard it must be for him to breathe, how painful to lie there, feeling his own bones healing, and all the while knowing he’d have to go through it all over again once he was freed.
“What makes you think my parents are dead?” she asked, to get him thinking about something, anything else.
“It’s the way you relate to your brother, the way you talk about him. It’s more like a parent than a sibling. Plus all this time we’ve been looking for him, you’ve never once mentioned a mother or father. I’m guessing you were very young when they died. Maybe someone stepped in, a grandparent, an aunt or uncle, but you were older than your brother, and you felt responsible for him anyway.”
He didn’t open his eyes, didn’t look at her, but she could feel him waiting for her response. Her stomach roiled at the thought of baring her most painful moments, her private history. But he’d told her his story, a life much harder than her own had been, despite her losses.
“My mother died when Daniel was two,” she began. “I was six. My father is still alive.”
“Ah. But neither of you are close to him.”
“He raised us alone. My grandparents—the ones with the ranch—offered to have us live with them, and my father could come out every weekend and be with us. He said no. We were his kids, and he wanted us with him. But he still had to work, of course. We had babysitters, but I’d already been taking care of my brother almost since he was born. My mom was diagnosed with cancer just before she gave birth, and she started treatments right after.
My earliest memory is my father telling me the day my brother was born that I had to help my mom with the new baby because she was sick. They came home with Daniel, and I remember looking at him and thinking he was my responsibility now. When I was four years old, I already knew how to put a bottle together for my brother, how to heat it in the microwave before putting the cap on. I changed his diaper, although probably not well, and I rocked him to sleep. I was the one he wanted when he cried, not one of our parents. When he was a year old, I came home from my first day of kindergarten, and he was so happy to see me he took his very first steps. To me.”
“And how did your father take all of this?”
“It was hard on him. My mom was sick for two years before she died, and I think it was actually easier for him after that. He loved us, but his job was an escape from everything. I can’t blame him for that. He did the best he could, and I’m grateful. He could have walked away when my grandmother offered, or pawned us off on my mom’s sister, but he didn’t.”
“But he’s still alive. So where is he now?”
“He remarried a few years ago. His new wife is younger, and they have a couple of kids.”
“More siblings for you. How lovely.”
“I guess. I barely know them. They live in Arizona, and the kids are so much younger.”
“And you really don’t want any more siblings.”
“I don’t need any. I have Daniel.”
“Hmm.” He lapsed into silence, long enough that Kathryn felt a spike of fear.
“Lucas?”
Her heart jumped in alarm when he didn’t answer, and she scooted closer, pressing her face to his and listening for his breath, waiting for the brush of warm air on her cheek.
“Kathryn,” he breathed, soft enough that she wouldn’t have heard it if she hadn’t been so close. “Have I told you I love you?”
She kissed his closed eyes and then his mouth. “Hush,” she whispered. “Save your strength for the important stuff.”
“Love is important, a cuisle. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
He was quiet after that, resting she supposed. But as long as he was still breathing, she figured the symbiote, as he called it, was still working on him, still trying to heal the devastating damage to this body. Kathryn lowered her face into the crook of her arm, still holding on to his hand. She was achingly tired, and she wondered how long they’d have to wait down here.
She didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until a loud banging noise woke her. She startled awake, eyes wide. Her first thought was that something had given
way overhead, some crucial piece of metal framework that had been holding everything else at bay, and now they were doomed.
“That’s just Nicholas,” Lucas said, his voice much stronger than it had been.
She stared at him. He looked tired beneath the dirt and grime, but his eyes were open and gleaming gold with power.
“You ready to get out of here?” he asked.
“Get out?” she repeated, confused.
“Flash your light up there, will you?” He lifted his eyes to indicate the tangle of metal beams and broken building lying on top of him.
Kathryn frowned, but did as he asked, moving the narrow beam of her flashlight back and forth above them until he grunted in satisfaction and said, “That’s it. Do me a favor?”
She nodded, a little worried about what he was planning to do.
“I want you to go back over by the elevator where you were before. I’m not sure what will happen when I start shuffling things around, and I don’t want you underneath here.”
“I thought you said Nicholas was coming with the rest of the guys. I think we should wait—”
“It’s not in my nature to wait, a cuisle. Besides, I have a reputation to maintain.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“No, it’s not. It’s deadly serious. Now, please, Kathryn, do as I ask and go back over by the elevator.”
She regarded him unhappily for a long minute, then pursed her lips and nodded her agreement. She’d just started to squirm her way back out the way she’d come, when he stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“No kiss for good luck?”
Kathryn narrowed her eyes in irritation, but felt the smile tugging at her lips. “You better know what you’re doing, Lucas Donlon, because I’m not saving your ass again if all of this shit tumbles down on you.”
“C’mere.”
She scooted forward again and put her mouth against his, intending to give him a quick peck on the lips. But Lucas had other plans. His hand tunneled into the loose strands of her hair, holding her still as he gave her a searing kiss. His tongue slipped between her teeth, twining with her tongue, as his lips caressed her mouth. The tension fled Kathryn’s body for a few precious moments as she reveled in the seduction of Lucas’s touch, his strong fingers kneading the back of her neck, his kiss claiming her for himself, even if it was only for these few minutes in a dark basement.
He broke away slowly, and she liked to think his reluctance mirrored her own.
“When this is over, Katie mine, you and I are going to spend several quality hours in a big bed with a bottle of good whiskey and no phones.”
“Big talk, vampire.”
“Big plans,” he corrected. “Now go. I’m tired of having all this crap weighing me down.”
Kathryn scowled. She didn’t see how he thought he was going to get out of here without help. Vampire or not, there was just too much stuff in the way, and every bit of it weighed a ton. He waggled his fingers, as if pushing her on her way, so she complied. Scooting backwards, wincing when her injured arm brushed against a jagged piece of concrete, and again when something ripped open her pants leg and added to her cuts and bruises.
“You do understand the concept of moving to safety, don’t you, a cuisle? One should at least try to get there in one piece.”
“I am trying. This isn’t easy, you know.”
Another banging noise started up above, this one continuing for some time as Kathryn finally extricated herself from the worst of the rubble and half crawled, half duck-walked back to the dubious safety of the elevator shaft. The sound died down just before she got there, the final metallic ring echoing down the empty space of the shaft over her head.
“You think they’re coming down this way?” she called over to Lucas.
“Probably. It avoids going through much of the debris. The alternative would be digging in through the side wall.”
“I thought you and Nicholas were, you know, in touch.”
Lucas laughed, sounding very nearly like his regular self. “There are limitations. Are you in the elevator?”
“Yes,” she snapped irritably
“Get as far inside as you can. And you might want to close your eyes.”
Kathryn did as he asked, closing her eyes with an impatient sigh loud enough for Lucas to hear. But inside, she was trembling, her heart racing. She squeezed herself into a tight corner of the elevator, straining to see in the dark, terrified that Lucas’s luck was going to run out, that the next collapse would be one he couldn’t survive.
* * * *
Lucas crooked a smile at Kathryn’s sigh of exasperation, He couldn’t see her from the awkward position he was in, but he could hear her muttering to herself as she moved around. And he could sense her fear for him, the fear she was trying to cover up with her grumblings.
When he was as certain as he could be that she was safe, he stretched out his power and touched Nicholas.
“Sire?” Nicholas’s thoughts were tight with worry.
“Any complications from the human authorities so far?”
“A patrol car came out. Someone heard the blast and called it in. We had a nice chat, and they went away happy.”
“Excellent. Are you coming down the elevator shaft?”
“Yes. We had to move a few tons of debris first, but we finally cleared the shaft. We can cut through—”
“No. Kathryn’s in there. I’ll come to you.”
“You’re coming up?”
“After I move this fucking heavy pile, yeah. It’s going to be . . . bad, Nick. You understand?”
“Yes, my lord. I’ve got the copter on stand-by if we need it. Are we going to the ranch or staying in St. Paul?”
Lucas wanted to go home to his ranch in South Dakota, but it made more sense to remain in the Twin Cities. The sooner he reached safety, the sooner his body could start healing itself all over again, and he needed to get his strength back quickly. Klemens would know Alex Carmichael was dead, and he would also know that Lucas was not. Clearly he had planned on Lucas perishing in Alex’s suicidal explosion, but even though he’d survived, Klemens would assume he’d been injured, leaving him weakened and perhaps vulnerable to attack. Lucas couldn’t afford to be weak. Not unless he was prepared to surrender his people and territory to Klemens. That would never happen.
The ranch in South Dakota was his true lair, but the penthouse across the river in St. Paul would have to do. More than anything, he needed a safe place to rest while the vampire symbiote fixed what was wrong with his body.
“Make it the penthouse, Nick. As fast as possible.”
“Understood, my lord.”
“See you in a few.”
“Good luck, Sire.”
Lucas closed his eyes, picturing the crushing mass of I-beams, concrete and rebar that he’d seen in the light from Kathryn’s flashlight. And then he added in the distance between his current location and the nearest wall where the destruction was the least pronounced. He steeled himself against the inevitable pain. He’d told Kathryn his broken bones hurt like hell, but running on them the way they’d been healed was going to be so much worse.
“Close your eyes, Kathryn,” he called again, giving her a heads-up.
And then he moved.
A blast of pure power lifted the mass of wreckage above him with the groan of tortured metal and shattered rock. It was only a foot or two, and for only a few seconds, but it was enough for Lucas to spin face down and scramble on all fours out from under, reaching the relative safety of the wall with no more than a breath to spare as the massive weight came crashing down once again. The walls shook, and the ground shuddered under the tremendous impact. Everything shifted as the pile of debris settled into its new configuration, dirt and bits of concrete raining down on him like lethal snow.
“Kathryn!” he bellowed over the noise.
“I’m okay,” she called back. “Where are you?”
“Don’t come out!” he yelled quickly. “I’ll
come to you.”
“Are you sure, I can—”
“Damn it, Kathryn. Stay there.”
Lucas crouched near the wall, knees tucked up against his chest, face buried in the protection of his arms until everything stopped moving. He lifted his head again. The air with still thick with particles of who knew what sort of garbage, but they had to get out of here. The pile hadn’t been all that stable to begin with, and he feared he’d only made it worse.
He forced himself to his feet, closing his eyes against the agony of bones that had healed bent and out of alignment. If he had to guess, he’d say every bone in his right leg had been broken, plus at least the femur in his left. And his pelvis felt like ground glass every time he moved. That was the bad news. The good news was that the damage to vital organs had been minimal and was already healing. His lungs ached, but that was probably due as much to the thick air as anything else. And his heart was sound. Otherwise, he’d be dead alongside old Alex Carmichael. He wondered if Kathryn had realized yet that Alex’s remains were part of the dust she was breathing in. He decided not to share that particular fact.
It took him only a few minutes, inching down the wall, finding his way around the few smaller piles of mostly concrete and crushed furniture that barred his way. There were some electrical wires tangled up in all the mess, but they were dead. Nick had probably cut the main line as a precaution. As Lucas edged into the open front of the elevator, he straightened as much as possible. He didn’t want Kathryn thinking too much about his physical condition. Didn’t want her paying too much attention to the state of his legs in particular. She didn’t need to know how bad it was.
She was sitting against the back wall of the elevator, head buried in her arms, her usually tidy ponytail hanging loose and disheveled. He smelled fresh blood and frowned. The wound on her arm was still leaking blood, and a nasty-looking gash marked her calf. It was the arm that troubled him the most. Even without a bandage, it should have clotted by now.
“Kathryn,” he said softly.
Her head came up, and he saw in her eyes what she’d refused to tell him when he was still trapped. A beautiful smile split her face, and she laughed as she jumped up and came into his arms.
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