Charissa Dufour - Misguided Allies (The Void Series Book 2)

by Unknown

  “I need a place to crash,” panted Sam.

  “It’s one in the morning.”

  Sam flicked her eyes around. “That’s why I came to you.”

  “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “You in trouble with your folks?”

  Amber wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “No. I just… I just can’t.”

  “Amber, what’s going on?” Sam asked as she adjusted her grip on the windowsill.

  “I don’t want to associate with the vampires,” Ambers said, sounding only minimally guilty for turning her friend away.

  “I’m not a vampire,” Sam said, feeling dumb for stating the obvious.

  “You might as well be one. Go home, Sam,” Amber added before carefully lowering the window.

  A second later the soft lamp flicked off. Sam hung from the window, staring at her own reflection in the glass, her thoughts racing from What just happened? to Well screw you, Amber in a split second.

  Eventually, Sam began the descent, being careful to not slip as she had the last time she crawled from Amber’s window. That had been the same night she had killed Lee to avenge Amber’s friend and inadvertently come into the employ of Heywood. And yet here she was, being rejected by the very same friend who had gotten her into this mess.

  She had to remind herself that Amber didn’t know anything about Heywood’s threats against Carl. Heywood had made certain of that, and if she told Amber again, Amber’s life would be at stake.

  Sam reached the ground with nothing worse than another whack to her scraped knee. She stood in the shadow of the building and shivered. The temperature was still dropping. If she didn’t find someplace to go soon, she wouldn’t have to worry about her crumbling life.

  She stared out at the deserted Reservation, a tear leaking over her eyelids and freezing to her cheek.

  Chapter Two

  “Sam?” came a recognizable voice as she stood in the shadow of the parking garage.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she asked as Roman stepped into her line of sight.

  In truth, he was the last person she wanted to see, and yet as he stood there in the flood of a street lamp clothed in a winter jacket she couldn’t help sigh at the feeling of his power caressing her. Her gift slammed against her boundaries and her tattoo burned as though someone had lit it on fire. It took all her strength to keep from releasing her gift and draining the powerful mage.

  Roman wasn’t just a man with innate skills. His magic had been honed and formed from his first steps, and the result was magnificent. She had never seen him in action, but she knew from the way his power made her feel that he was a dominant among the mages.

  “Look at you,” Roman said with a huff as he unzipped his enormous winter coat, walked to her side, and wrapped her in the fabric, warmed by his own body heat. “I gotta get you inside. Why aren’t you home?”

  “C-c-cant g-g-go h-home,” she said, her teeth suddenly chattering.

  “C’mon.”

  “Wh-wh-where?”

  Roman didn’t answer. He scooped her up into his arms, causing the skin on her burned back to stretch. Sam let out a cry, muffled by the fabric of his jacket.

  “You hurt?” he demanded as he increased his pace.

  All she could do was nod.

  It wasn’t long before she realized where he was taking her. “I c-can’t go to the admin b-building.”

  “Shut up.”

  At the bottom of the steps he set her on her feet and took his coat back, slipping into it and zipping it up.

  “Just follow my lead, okay?” he said.

  Sam nodded, too cold and hurt to care what happened next. She stuffed her bloodstained hand into her jacket pocket and followed Roman up to the front door. He used a plastic key card to unlock the door and sauntered in, Sam at his side.

  The night clerk at the front desk eyed them suspiciously. “What’s this?” he asked.

  “It’s a cold night,” Roman said with a sinful glint in his eyes. “Need a little something to warm my bed.”

  Sam missed a step. She struggled to keep her face relaxed. The rattling of her teeth helped mask her shock. It wasn’t that she was offended by the idea of going to bed with Roman. Far from it. If anything, she was extremely thrilled by the notion.

  Sam missed another step as she fought to control the urges working through her. It wasn’t just her gift that called out to him this time. It was something much more primal.

  The night clerk grinned at Roman, throwing him a wink.

  “C’mon, girl,” Roman barked, treating her like so many humans had done before.

  Sam hung her head and followed him up a couple flights of stairs. She knew the administration building had guest rooms for when dignitaries visited but she had never seen one. Roman led her into his, stepping aside to let her enter first. Sam swallowed a lump in her throat as she eyed the opulent room.

  The enormous bedroom was decorated in warm browns and pristine whites. Long brown drapes hung at the edge of four large windows that ran from floor the ceiling, looking out over the wall of the Reservation.

  Sam ignored the rest of the room as she walked, dumbfounded to the nearest window and stared at the darkness ahead of her. She couldn’t see anything much beyond her own reflection, so she leaned into the glass using her hand to shield her eyes from the light of the room. She caught a glimpse of a few white lights moving quickly. Running parallel to the white lights were a row of red ones, moving just as fast.

  “What’s that?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

  Roman was already standing beside her.

  “What’s what?”

  “Those red and white lights moving over there.”

  “The freeway. Those are cars.”

  “Oh.”

  Sam felt incredibly stupid when he used that tone of voice, but the truth was she had never seen beyond the walls of her home other than in the occasional picture. Another shiver ran up her spine, distracting them both from the images outside the window.

  Roman flung his coat over the white upholstered bench positioned at the foot of the enormous bed, grabbed up a chocolate-brown throw blanket, and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  He left her standing beside the window to pull the drapes closed. She frowned at him and he noticed.

  “If we’re doing what they think we’re doing, then we would close the blinds.”

  Sam felt her cheeks flare red with a deep blush and turned away. When the drapes were closed, Roman went to a tiny kitchen with creamy-colored cabinets and put a kettle on the two-burner stove. Long before she expected it, the kettle was steaming. Roman removed it before it could whistle and made her a cup of tea.

  She watched him from her place beside the window, silently appreciating the new view. Roman was a perfect combination of deadly and sexy, or maybe it was his deadliness that made him sexy. Even through his tailored dress shirt and slacks she could see the lines of strong sculpted muscles. His face and knuckles bore the scars of a habitual fighter. Roman kept his beautifully shaped head shaved down to nearly nothing, revealing more of his warm, soft brown skin. Some days his short hair was shaved down to reveal the barest hint of a Mohawk, but other days the Mohawk was gone. The truth was, Roman matched the room.

  Sam turned away before he could catch her staring at him when he finished making the tea. She didn’t much like tea, but she would have been willing to drink urine so long as it was warm.

  “Now where are you hurt?” he demanded, coming to stand in front of her.

  “It’s nothing,” she said, turning to eye the room again.

  “Tell me where you are hurt or I will tear all your clothing off… and not in the fun way.”

  Sam glared up at him, considering using her gift on him. As though it had been called, her gift pressed against her resolve. She resolutely put it back in its place.

  “Fine,” she said, tossing the blanket and her jacket on the bench.

  She turned and lifted he
r shirt to reveal her back. Sam didn’t know how bad it was, but the quick intake of breath from Roman suggested it was bad.

  “How did you get this?” he demanded, his voice sounding harsh again.

  “Accidentally leaned against something iron not knowing my shirt had ridden up.”

  “Against what?”

  “Not really sure.”

  “How do you not know what you leaned up against?”

  “It was dark,” she bit back, annoyed with the anger in his voice.

  “Did you fall asleep against it?”

  “No,” she replied, turning to look at him. “How bad is it?”

  “Bad, Sam. It looks a helluva lot worse than your hand did.”

  Sam grimaced. She had burned her hand when she first met Roman, displaying the effects of iron on a fae to his nosy boss. It had been a severe burn. How could this one possibly be worse?

  “I’ll make up a healing salve for you. You hungry?”

  Sam nodded as she wrapped herself in the blanket and took a seat on the bench.

  “What were you doing out in the middle of the night, other than getting yourself hurt?” he asked as he returned to the kitchenette and poured her a bowl of cereal.

  It was the best cereal she had ever tasted—a mixture of wheat bits and tiny marshmallows. Also, it wasn’t even remotely stale.

  “What is this? It’s fantastic,” she said around a large bite.

  “Never had Lucky Charms before? And don’t change the subject. What were you doing?”

  “None of your business,” she mumbled.

  “I think I’ve made it my business. After all, I’m the one hiding you.”

  Sam chewed silently, watching him work with hurried, angry motions as he smashed various herbs in a mortar. He had a point, as much as she didn’t want to admit it.

  “I just got released from Solitary. Reynolds likes to release me in the middle of the night.”

  “I’d noticed. Why?”

  “He’s a dick.”

  Roman nodded, as though this was explanation enough.

  “So I was… going to a friend’s when I heard a scream. Found a dead body. I chased after the attackers.”

  “What? Are you nuts?” demanded Roman, momentarily forgetting about his herbs.

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Yes. I can see that,” he grumbled.

  “Anyway. I lost them in the warehouse. When the feds showed up I hid. That’s when I leaned up against something. It was pitch black in there. I have no idea what I touched. There isn’t that much that’s iron in there. After all, they employ mostly fae workers.”

  “Whatever it was, it was enchanted.”

  “What do you mean?” she demanded, her fists going to her hips on their own accord.

  “You yourself have shown me what iron does to a fae, and I’ve seen it on other occasions too. What happened to your back is not just from regular iron. Someone either enchanted the item or enchanted you.”

  “Me?” Sam asked.

  Roman nodded. “Most likely they took down your natural defenses, what little you have left in you to fight the effects of iron. That’s why the burn is so bad.”

  Roman stared at her for a moment before turning back to his mortar. He held his hands over the green gunk, closed his eyes, and began to pour his own magic into the poultice. Sam bit down on her tongue, using the new pain to distract herself from the call of his power. She wanted to take it for herself. If nothing else, her gift was extremely greedy.

  When Roman finished, he glanced at her and stopped.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Sam could only imagine what he saw. She felt the sweat of effort rolling down her neck and her brows creased in concentration.

  “It hurting more?”

  Sam nodded. It wasn’t the truth, but it would have to do. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him that she craved his magic. She was already amazed that he was spending time with her. Mages usually shunned Voids—or at least that was her experience.

  “Take off your shirt,” he ordered as he joined her on the bench, his arms loaded down with more than just his poultice.

  Sam hesitated only a second before removing the soiled garment, showing him her back. Thankfully, her sports bra was more concealing than most human swimsuits. All the same, Sam blushed deeply, thankful that he couldn’t see her face.

  She hissed as he began to dab at the long burn with a damp cloth. Sam took up her shirt and bit down on the fabric to muffle her pained cries. Slowly, carefully, Roman cleaned the wound, smeared it with his poultice, and wrapped vet-wrap around her abdomen to keep an enormous bandage in place. When it was all over, Sam collapsed against the foot of the bed, her tears staining the white fabric of the duck-down comforter.

  Sam didn’t just cry for the pain in her back, but for the anguish in her heart. Amber had rejected her—the one person she thought would always be by her side, would always be an ally against the cruel world even if she didn’t understand why Sam was working for the vampires. As an empath, Amber was nearly as rejected by mystic society as Sam was. No one liked knowing that she could feel their emotions. Telepaths were the only others as ostracized as empaths. Voids, of course, were practically banished, except by those who wanted to manipulate them.

  Despite all this, Amber had always been her friend. She had never feared Sam would steal her powers. She had stood up for Sam when the other children mocked her. Amber had consoled Sam on those rare occasions when she had struggled to control her powers as a child and accidentally stolen from another fae. And yet now she had rejected Sam as though she was the leper everyone else saw.

  Sam heard Roman move, but didn’t register what he was doing until he scooted to her side, wrapped the blanket around her exposed flesh, and pulled her against his chest. She felt his strong hands brush the sweat-dampened hair out of her eyes and caress her cheek.

  As the pain receded, thanks to the magic in the poultice, her body reacted to his touch. A warmth began to build in her stomach, just below her naval, and work its way southward. Sam stopped crying, focusing instead on the feel of his finger’s stroking down her neck to her bare shoulder.

  Without thinking, she turned to look at him. Sam knew her crying spree must have left her pale face splotchy and her inhumanly pale eyes bloodshot, but she didn’t care and evidently neither did he. Roman relaxed his hold on her, allowing her to turn carefully onto her back. His hand trailed across her collarbone as she shifted before running back up her neck and tangling in her hair.

  Sam’s heart beat painfully against her chest as he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to hers. Sam was pinned. As much as she wanted to reach out and begin to work on the buttons of his shirt, the throw blanket was securely tucked around her body, leaving her in complete submission to his will.

  Roman deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring the deep recesses of her mouth. Sam pressed against his chest, the only way she could show him that she enjoyed his touch and wanted more. He responded by wrapping his arms around, avoiding her wound, and rolling until she was lying across his chest. The movement released the tension on the blanket and she managed to free a hand. Of its own free will, the hand grabbed Roman by the back of the neck as she explored his mouth in return.

  The powerful mage let out a groan of pleasure as her other hand found the warm skin between his pants and his shirt. Roman pulled on the blanket, tossing it off the bed in one swift motion. With this new freedom, Sam went to work on his shirt, shamelessly popping a few buttons in her hurry. At last, she pressed herself against his bare chest, only her sports bra and bandages between them.

  His warmth spread across her as he flipped her over again, this time pulling them up off the bench and fully up onto the mattress. Roman pinned her in place, a leg on each side of her hips as he removed his shirt. It joined the throw blanket on the floor.

  Sam’s hands worked their way up his flat chest to grab his neck and pull him back to her lips. He was onl
y too willing to reciprocate.

  Roman’s strong hands ran down her sides to her hips and across her lower back, still avoiding the bandages. His kisses moved from her lips to jaw, down her neck, and across her chest to the fabric of her sports bra. One lone finger began to work its way under the elastic, teasing her with the possibility of more.

  Sam groaned with pleasure, only a small portion of her mind capable of wondering at the magic he had used to deaden the pain in her back. Too much of her focus was on him, his touch, his power. Without realizing it, her gift escaped her confines and began sipping on him, tasting his mage-power.

  Sam shivered as he rolled again, giving her the dominant position. With all willingness, she copied him and began to kiss down his neck onto the flat, smooth plains of his chest. Her lips tingled, as though she were tasting his power through his skin.

  The magic filled her, making her pulse beat all the harder. The room began to spin as she lost herself in his power, all the while kissing and touching what she never should have touched in the first place. Fire began to burn in her, not just of desire, but of his magic as it filled her from the inside out.

  He groaned again, cutting into her delirious enjoyment.

  Sam jumped back, rolling across the bed, and falling to a crouch on the floor beside the mattress.

  “Sam?” he asked, sitting up and eyeing her.

  “I can’t,” she croaked as she battled her will against that of her gift. Slowly it subsided back into the confines of her tattoo.

  “Why not?”

  From where she crouched she could see his chest quickly rising and falling, but she couldn’t tell if it was from excitement or fear.

  “I’d drain you.”

  A devilish smile spread across his brown lips. “I have more than you could ever take.”

  Sam swallowed, unsure whether she should believe him or not.

  “No,” she whispered. “You have no idea what I can do. And it would cost you your life to find out.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Sam jumped up, grabbed her shirt and jacket, and scurried toward the door. Roman beat her there, blocking her path. She stared at the white paint of the door, refusing to look at the beautiful color of his skin or the gleam of desire in his eyes.