Sanctuary's Price: Red Rock Pass, Book 3

by Moira Rogers

  He didn’t argue, but the incantation had already drawn her attention. She studied it carefully. When Gavin had translated the spell for them over dinner, it had been a mere curiosity. But now that she had to merge the words with her own magic and take control of Dylan, her hands shook.

  Sasha didn’t speak as she began to weave the spell, just laid a hand on the side of his neck and called to the magic sleeping inside her. It unfurled and reached out, calling for an echo inside Dylan.

  Warmth came first, a trickle of power tinged with desire and curiosity, and she realized she’d touched the animal inside him. A soft grunt escaped Dylan, and when his eyes opened they were an eerie gold. “Sasha.” Just one word, just her name, but it came out rough and a little wild, all the things Dylan never was.

  She hesitated, and a heavy, expectant silence fell in the room. The spell allowed for distance; she could stay this way, inside him but separate, with one final wall between them. His power would be harder to command, but she could do it.

  Their gazes locked, and the words whispered out of her. Magic swelled, and Sasha felt enveloped, open. Alive. Their hearts pounded in unison, and her fears suddenly seemed far away and unreal.

  Dylan’s fingers skimmed her arms as he lowered himself to his knees with effortless grace. His hands slipped to her hips, and he held her in place as he dropped his forehead to rest on her stomach. “Alan was right. You’re more powerful than any of us.”

  She steeled herself against his disbelief and the scorn he leveled at himself for thinking he could protect her. “Dylan, I need you right now. Can you help me?”

  He shifted his fingers to her waist and inhaled, and she felt the satisfaction that filled him as he rubbed his cheek over her shirt. One hand tightened, and the fabric bunched and lifted enough for his wrist to brush her skin.

  Electricity shot through her. Sasha moaned, only too aware of his motivations. The same instinctive drive pulsed in her, reflected by the spell. She wanted to drop to the floor with him, to roll over and bare her belly. Submit and then explore, lips and hands and teeth, until she knew a hundred ways to make him come.

  Dylan growled softly and edged her shirt higher. His warm breath hit her stomach, followed by the scalding heat of his tongue.

  Her knees almost buckled. Sasha reached for Dylan, and only the sudden remembrance of the sick woman behind them stopped her. She cupped his face instead, urging him to look up and meet her eyes. “Dylan, we have to help Justine. Now.”

  For several tense moments, nothing happened. Then he shivered, and the fierce intelligence she’d seen over the past week gathered slowly in his eyes. “Sit.” His voice was hoarse, almost a growl. “In case you get dizzy.”

  “No, I have to be close. I’ll be fine.”

  Dylan expressed his disapproval with another quiet noise and turned, tugging her lightly with him until she faced the bed. He knelt behind her, his forehead pressed to her back. “Take what you need,” he whispered. “I’m strong enough for this.”

  Of course he was. Someone weak could never have done the things Dylan had done, taken the same chances. “Just hold on.”

  Sasha closed her hand around Justine’s and touched her face. Almost instantaneously, a wave of dizzying rage hit her. They’d angered the vampire by taking Sam away, but he was curious too. He wanted to know—

  “Who are you?”

  One bracing breath, and Sasha isolated the rage and inquisitiveness. It coalesced, and Dylan tensed as she reached out and took it. Justine howled in pain as the bond stretched thin between them and snapped, shattering through Sasha and Dylan.

  “I know you.”

  Dylan’s body went tense, his fingers clenching on her hips. “It feels—” A rasping groan and he shuddered. “The magic feels like Helena’s beta. Alan’s second-in-command.”

  The magic lashed through her again, and this time it wasn’t directed at her. It was directed at Dylan, and it felt hungry. “No,” she whispered, steeling herself to deflect the dark tendrils that reached for the man behind her. “You can’t have him. He’s mine.”

  Separately, either of them would have been vulnerable, but the vampire couldn’t take them both. Still, it was all Sasha could do to hold his hunger at bay. His fascination drove him harder, made him clamp tight around her.

  “Then I’ll take you, little witch.”

  Dylan’s fingers clenched on her waist, and his growl of challenge shook through her body, drowning her in a wash of possessive magic. It wasn’t as strong as Gavin’s or as overwhelming as Keith’s, but Dylan’s power felt steady and warm, a slow-burning fire that enfolded her in its protective grasp.

  With Dylan’s magic fueling hers, it was almost easy to twist free. She pulled back and brought Dylan with her, dragging them both from the grasping clutches of the vampire’s spell.

  An angry shriek followed her, along with a vicious promise. “I know you now. I know him. I’ll drink his power and use it to bind you.”

  “No, you won’t.” It took every last bit of the energy inside them both, but Sasha isolated the spell and crushed it. The pain was blinding, driving her to her knees, and she clung to the edge of the bedspread, exhausted. Her chest heaved and she still couldn’t breathe, but inside was silence. She and Dylan were free.

  Chapter Three

  Dylan woke with a pounding headache in a bed that smelled like Sasha.

  He didn’t want to open his eyes at first, and not just because sudden movements might send the pain in his skull spiraling from pounding to splitting. The soft pillow under his cheek carried an intoxicating scent, one he was all too quickly becoming addicted to.

  Of course, he had to open his eyes, because Sasha wasn’t the only woman he smelled in the room. He squinted blearily at the chair next to the bed, and Abby’s features slowly came into focus. “Hey.” His voice sounded rough and hoarse, though he couldn’t remember why.

  She set aside her magazine. “Welcome back. How are you feeling?”

  “Where’s Sasha?” The words came out before he could stop them, but the driving need to know overrode everything, even his headache. “Is she okay?”

  Abby’s concerned expression melted into mild surprise. “Sasha’s fine. She and Cindy are across the hall in Justine’s room.”

  Oh shit. Dylan tried to force himself upright, but his entire body felt like he’d been run over by a particularly large truck. He sagged back to the bed and rubbed his forehead. “God. How long have I been unconscious?”

  “A few hours. Sasha’s pretty spry, though, and Gavin seems to think it’s because she sucked up most of your energy with that spell.” She leaned forward and helped him sit. “That sounds dangerous, by the way.”

  “Less dangerous than her trying to do it on her own,” he muttered. The world swam a little as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, but the headache was already fading, replaced by gnawing hunger. “Don’t give me shit about it, Abby. We all owe her.”

  Abby steadied him. “I know we owe her, Dylan, maybe better than most. She saved my sister and my mate. Don’t think I take that lightly.”

  “I just…” He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. The instinct to talk to his friend was overridden by the knowledge that Abby was a woman with too many burdens already. His problems seemed pathetic in comparison. He executed a graceless change of subject and hoped she’d drop it. “How’s Keith? Is he home by himself?”

  “He said my hovering was getting on his nerves, and then he ran me out.” She arched an eyebrow, the concern back on her face. “What were you going to say?”

  He didn’t want to tell her, but it was Abby. Brynn had been his little sister and even occasionally his partner-in-crime, but Abby had been the rock who’d kept him sane when his life seemed like nothing but a never-ending string of quiet wounds. “I’m worried about her. Sasha, I mean.”

  She studied him in silence. “Because of the magic, or because of the way she’s being treated here?”

  “Because
I know what it’s like to have something to prove.” Dylan braced his elbows on his knees and rubbed his face again. “Shit, Abby. I’ve been fucking up everything I touch.”

  “Hey.” She scooted her chair closer to the bed and touched his arm. “Why would you say that? Dylan, you saved my life, and Brynn’s too. You’re the only person I owe as much as Sasha, so stop it.”

  That gnawing guilt returned, magnified a hundredfold. “Your life wouldn’t have needed saving if I’d kept you out of my shit, and neither would Brynn’s. This damn town wouldn’t be going to war and Sasha wouldn’t be alone and hurt—” He bit off the words as another stab of hunger arced through him, this time strong enough to make the wolf rumble uncomfortably inside him. “Shit, I’ve got to eat. I’m starving.”

  “Let’s go downstairs. Gavin’s tending Sam. We can talk while you eat.”

  He made it to his feet and to the doorway without toppling over, which would have been more than his tender ego could take at this point. It felt cowardly to creep past the door to the guest bedroom where Justine lay, but with his head swimming and his body protesting, the last thing he could handle was facing Cindy and Sasha.

  It was easy to see how Abby must have been annoying Keith, because she hovered all the way down to the kitchen, and made Dylan sit as she heaped a plate with food and heated it in the microwave.

  Even an attempt to find himself something to drink was foiled, and he watched with a mixture of amusement and annoyance as she filled a glass with lemonade for him and set it on the table. “I’m starting to see Keith’s point, Abby. I’m not an invalid.”

  “Shut up and let me do this.” She placed his plate in front of him and sat across the table, her chin on her hands. “I’m pathetic, I know, but I can’t help it.”

  The words brought back a memory of the first time he’d gone to Abby’s apartment for dinner. Almost two years into their friendship, and it had been the warm, steady caring in her eyes that had finally overcome his determination to keep everyone at arm’s length. He’d spent the hour before he arrived wandering in circles around Helena in an attempt to bore anyone who might be following him, knowing that leading any of his packmates to her house would put the Adler sisters in danger.

  Abby and Brynn had been his secret, the one spot of brightness in his dull life. Over the years he’d even managed to fool himself into thinking they’d be safe from the horrors of his existence.

  You selfish fucking bastard.

  Abby had always been perceptive, and now was no exception. “Stop beating yourself up,” she suggested, twirling the salt shaker between her palms, “and tell me what’s going on between you and Sasha.”

  Dylan bought time with a hearty bite of food. He washed it down with the rest of the lemonade and met his friend’s eyes. He still couldn’t think of anything to say, so he told her the truth. “I don’t have a fucking clue, Abby.”

  “Fair enough. Think Sasha does?”

  He had only the haziest memory of her skin under his fingers and her magic curled around him, warm and curious and laced with nervous but honest desire. “I don’t know.”

  “I see.” Abby tapped her fingernails rhythmically on the table. “I made the mashed potatoes the way you like them. So much garlic Joe said he could smell them from his place.”

  Dylan knew Abby well enough to know the respite from her questions was temporary. So he took it with good grace, complimented her on the mashed potatoes and tried to pretend he had something in his head besides thoughts of a quiet, terrified witch.

  He did a shitty job, but at least Abby was nice enough to let it be. For now.

  She began to talk about nonsense things, probably just to fill the silence. The sound of soft footsteps on the stairs quieted her, and Abby looked up as Cindy came into the kitchen. “How’s Justine?”

  Cindy glanced at Dylan and began to unroll her shirtsleeves. “She’s already getting stronger. I gave her more antibiotics for the infection, and she should be able to shake it now.”

  Dylan let out a breath he couldn’t remember holding and relaxed. “Good. That’s good. What about Sam?”

  “Better.” Cindy dragged out a chair and sank into it. “What about you, Dylan?”

  He pointed to the empty plate in front of him. “I just needed some food, I guess. I’m fine.”

  She frowned. “You should eat more. You should also never pull another stunt like that one this afternoon. You could have died.”

  Dylan stiffened at the no-nonsense command, one she probably expected him to obey without argument. And with good reason—he’d been obeying most of her offhand orders in the time he’d been in Red Rock, and had the sneaking suspicion that things would have gone a lot better between them if he’d fought a little more.

  But the fight he was about to start was one he didn’t need witnesses for. He glanced at Abby, hoping she’d read the silent plea in his eyes.

  She was already rising from the table. “I’ve got to get home to check on Keith. Cindy, we’ll see you tomorrow. Dylan…stop by, okay? When you get a chance.”

  “Of course. Tell Keith I feel his pain.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Cindy watched Abby go, her shoulders tense. “Something you couldn’t say in front of her?”

  He hated seeing that wariness in her even more than he’d hated her anger. “This isn’t really the time, but it’s never the right time. And we both have things to say to each other.”

  Some of her tension melted into an obvious regret. “I’m sorry. I said some really shitty things to you the other day. Things you didn’t deserve.”

  It would have felt a lot better to hear if he hadn’t been starting to realize she’d been right. Dylan rubbed a hand over his face and fought a weary sigh. “There might have been some truth in it, Cindy. More than I wanted to hear.”

  She smiled a little, though her eyes grew bright with tears. “I didn’t say I was wrong, just that I shouldn’t have treated you so badly.”

  He groaned and closed his eyes, not sure he’d be able to take it if she cried. “You were right, but you were also lying. Things were going to hell before Sasha.”

  In true Cindy fashion, she admitted it readily. “Without a doubt. I think…I wanted both of us to be something we’re not.”

  “Yeah.” Her words should have hurt more. He’d expected them to, had been braced for the pain of being judged insufficient yet again, but the relief of having the truth between them outweighed everything else. He opened his eyes and hoped his answering smile didn’t look bitter. “I’m not Joe or Keith. Hero isn’t my default setting.”

  “Now that’s a load of crap.” Cindy stood and hesitated before leaning over to kiss his cheek. “She’s really nice, Dylan. I’d feel a smidge better if she was heinous, or at least difficult, but…she’s sweet.”

  Fear knotted in his stomach. “And you and I both know that sweet doesn’t belong in our world.”

  She didn’t argue or offer him platitudes. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “How about I start by promising to eat? Baby steps, and all.”

  “Right.” Cindy pulled a hand through her hair. “Gavin wants to see you. He said something about a trip to Maine.”

  Dylan took both of the plates Abby had set in front of him to the sink. “What’s in Maine?”

  “Damned if I know.” She pulled a soda from the refrigerator. “But he mentioned Sasha too.”

  Gavin could have mentioned Sasha for any number of reasons that didn’t involve sending her halfway across the country, which meant Dylan’s immediate, irrational protective anger was out of place. He tilted his head and tried to remember everything he’d ever heard Gavin and Sam say about Maine. “Isn’t there a town there? One of the sanctuaries? Except I’m almost certain no one from there showed up at the summit last month. Idaho, Alaska…Alabama, maybe? No Maine.”

  Cindy chewed her lower lip. “I’m not sure. I only caught a little of the conversation, and I wasn’t really trying to li
sten.”

  “I guess there’s only one way to find out.” He pushed off the counter and grinned at her. “You should go rescue Keith. Abby’s going to drive him out a window in about fifteen minutes.”

  “I hope not. I’m getting tired of patching him up.”

  The tension of the past weeks had eased enough that he felt comfortable squeezing her hand. “Thanks, Cindy.”

  “You’re welcome.” She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Our grand affair might be over, but I still care about you. Don’t forget that.”

  “Same goes to you.” He smoothed her hair back and forced himself to acknowledge he was killing time to avoid the moment he’d have to go upstairs and face the same sort of kindly rejection from Sasha. “I suppose Gavin will come down here and drag my ass upstairs if I don’t go under my own power, huh?”

  Her expression gentled, and she kissed him again. “I think you’ll be fine, Dylan. I’ll see you later.”

  Soft footsteps on the stairs meant his time was up. He straightened and stepped back, fighting the sudden tension that filled him when he realized the tread was too light to be Gavin’s. “Bye, Cindy.”

  She made it out the back door just as Sasha appeared in the archway between the kitchen and the hall. “Hi.” Bare feet peeked out from under the hem of her jeans as she fidgeted. “Gavin wants to talk to us. He said to wait for him down here.”

  His body stirred at the sight of her, giving lie to all his stupid rationalizations about why Cindy’s rejection hadn’t hurt more. He cleared his throat and turned to the fridge. “I was going to get something to drink. You want anything?”

  “I thought I’d make some coffee.” Sasha hesitated with her hand on the pantry door. “When Gavin’s done with us, maybe we can talk.”

  The words killed his lust rather handily. “Sure.”

  She glanced at the empty doorway, as if judging the time they might have alone. “I owe you an apology, Dylan. A huge one.”

  “Don’t.” It came out forcefully enough to startle her, and he gritted his teeth and moderated his tone. “I’ve already had two lectures on how dangerous the spell was, but you didn’t hurt me.”