The woman was a mess, and it should've made me regret my commitment to protect her. Instead, it all only made me feel more of an insatiable need to keep her safe. Worse, I'd found myself enjoying our interactions and struggling to keep from relaxing into the conversations with her. I'd kept my walls up, but only barely.
I had a very real fear that she was going to bring them crashing down one awkward moment at a time. I supposed that didn't particularly matter. There was no world where our paths continued to cross once my job was done. I'd see her to safety, and I'd exit from her life, which was no doubt going to be disgustingly tangled with vamps because of what her sister had done.
Worse... I worried I'd pieced together why her sister had tried to turn herself into a vamp in the first place. I'd seen how protective Maisey was of Sylvie. The puzzle wasn't complicated, but when I thought about Maisey trying to turn Sylvie into one of them, it made rage boil up in me so strong that I could feel my wolf threatening to claim me.
Fuck. Whatever happened, I needed to make sure it didn't come to that.
20
Sylvie
Riggs’ plan to escape with a budding vampire in tow was a simple one.
He thought if he draped Maisey in clothes he’d worn the previous day, his smell would help mask her scent. On top of that, he implied His Holy Alphaness would be powerful enough to keep the howlers from descending into a bloodthirsty rage.
So, yeah. We had smelly jackets and his own inflated ego protecting us. What more could two girls ask for?
We left our room after he got the call from Felix. They had the truck outside with Fang already loaded and waiting. I couldn’t decide if it was a vote of confidence that the other three weren’t inside to help if things went south, or if it was the reverse.
Riggs had Maisey over one of his shoulders. I was sure he could've carried her easily even before, but she'd deteriorated so much that she looked like a limp doll on his shoulder and nothing like a person, let alone my sister. The sight made my heart ache, but I put it from my mind.
"You’re sure this will work?" I asked. I'd had plenty of sleepless hours now picturing a throng of mindless beasts at the bottom of the stairs looking up toward our room, noses twitching.
"They won't fuck with me," he said.
I hoped that was true but didn't completely doubt it. Riggs had a presence—like an aura of potential violence. I imagined it was enough to keep all but the most determined from trying to cross him. At least I hoped as much.
When we got to the top of the stairs, I still went stock still at the sight of them. Countless pairs of eyes gazed up at us. But they weren't still like I'd imagined in my nightmares. The men and women at the bottom of the stairs were churning like moving water. They moved like a single, terrifying organism—like a wave trying to crash over the dunes at the beach.
"Jesus," I whispered.
Riggs put his hand around my waist, pulling me against his side.
Oh. My throat went dry. I knew he was just trying to protect me, but my stupid body started ringing wedding bells and picturing white picket fences the moment a guy's arm was around me.
Stop it, I thought. But of course, it didn't work. The next vision was a hairy little baby howling in a crib.
Would it be completely wrong to give a dog name to a werewolf baby? Come here, little Spot! Come on, Sparky! I grinned. I was officially an idiot. Even if I ignored the life-or-death situations that seemed to follow Riggs and the fact that he was a freaking werewolf, he was not husband material. There were a few obvious personality flaws, like a chronic lack of tact and manners. Besides, that was all ignoring the fact that any guy with two functioning brain cells would eventually realize they didn't want to be bogged down by my condition and run for greener pastures.
I was unpleasantly jerked from my thoughts when we got to the bottom of the stairs. The closest few howlers seemed to grudgingly part for us, moving to either side to create a dead-end pathway. Riggs walked confidently, but slowly forward. Just when it looked like we were about to walk right into the chest of wide-eyed howlers, they'd move to the side, making way.
Unfortunately, they were all heavily mouth breathing on us. It was like moving through a wind-tunnel of warm, germ-laced air. I could practically feel my immune system wilting in real time.
By the time we broke through the mob of werewolves, I felt like my teeth were about to crack from being clenched so hard. I realized I'd also wrapped my arms around Riggs' waist at some point. Embarrassed, I slid them off, but not before accidentally brushing the obvious hard bumps of abdominal muscles across his belly.
I shuddered a little, fear mingling with ill-advised arousal. I'd never touched a guys' abs before. Even if the abs I'd accidentally touched belonged to an asshole, it wasn't like the abs were at fault, right? I could still happily etch that physical memory into my mind for a later visit.
"You okay?" Riggs asked once we were outside. He bent down to examine me, still holding Maisey over his shoulder as if it was nothing.
"I'm fine."
"You look flushed," he said.
There was some lingering about to shit my pants in fear pulsing through my system, but the larger part of me was still dealing with the physical contact I'd just endured. It was doing all sorts of bad things to my brain. As much as I tried to tell myself to stop being a hormonal, sex-starved loser, I apparently couldn't stop my brain from mainlining me lethal doses of seratonin.
Even reminding myself that I was at risk of dying a horrible, vampire-induced death didn't help.
"Just scared," I said, only halfway lying.
"You're doing fine. Stay close."
It felt like ages since I'd been outside, but that was hardly new. Long stretches of indoor life followed by a brief glimpse of the outside world was kind of my thing. Then again, the circumstances of this outing were slightly different. I wasn't taking a clandestine trip outside in the middle of the night when I was least likely to come within coughing distance of another person. I was making a mad rush to Riggs' truck while some unseen pack of vampires plotted to swoop down and kill me.
The thought made me stick closer to Riggs.
We were going somewhere to help her, after all, and that was all I needed to steel my nerve.
I could do this. We went straight for Riggs' truck, where Felix and Fang waited.
Gravy Boat walked beside Riggs instead of at my side like the little traitor he was. He had been won over by Riggs spoiling him with fish over the past few days. Even though Riggs refused to pet or admit he liked Gravy Boat, he had stopped pushing the cat away or calling him disgusting as often.
Fang moved to the bed of the truck so there was room for me and Maisey to sandwich in between Riggs and Felix in the cab of the truck. Riggs took the wheel.
Gravy Boat curled up in his lap. Riggs looked down at him with a curled lip but didn't move him. He turned the engine over and started driving.
"So we made it?" I asked.
"Hardly," Riggs said. "They likely know where we're going. Vamps and Werewolves prefer to avoid public confrontation. If they make a move, it's more likely to be outside the city. Our best hope is that Lazarus wasn't ready for us to move tonight. He knows we had one more day of sanctuary and may have gambled on us using it. If he's dealing with something else, he might only have time to send his people for us."
"Could we handle ‘his people’?"
"Depends," Riggs said.
"Okay, so how does it work," I asked. "One on one, who wins? Werewolf or vampire?"
"Stupid question," Riggs said. "But the werewolf wins."
Felix gave Riggs a sideways look.
"Most of the time," Riggs conceded. "Vampires fight like cowards. They use guns. Bombs. Whatever suits them."
"Bombs?" I asked incredulously.
"They know their chances if it turns into a hand-to-hand contest. Besides. It's not so hard to kill a vampire. All you need to do is remove the head."
I stared at Riggs in disbel
ief. "So if Lazarus and his people try to stop us, you'll just remove their heads? No big deal?"
"Something like that," Riggs said.
"The part he's leaving out is that vampires prefer to keep their heads on their shoulders," Felix said. The big man with his shaved head looked gentler than I would've expected as he lifted Maisey's wrist and felt her pulse. His expression hardened. "She's not going to last much longer, Riggs. We need to hurry and get her to Blackridge."
"Can't she just have some of my blood? I asked.
"Vampire feedings don't have to be fatal," Felix said. "But she's starving by now. If we let her feed in this state, there won't be any stopping her from draining you dry. She needs an experienced vampire's guidance."
That explained why Riggs had refused to let me give her some of my blood until now. I was glad I hadn’t defied him like I’d considered a few times when Maisey was at her worst moments.
"But she'll be okay once we get to this place, right?"
Neither man answered. I took Maisey under my arm and pulled her close. I tried to ignore how strangely weightless and shrunken she felt. I brushed the hair from her forehead, cringing to feel how cold and lifeless she seemed. She was still my sister, even if she hardly looked recognizable now.
We drove most of the way in silence until we made it past the city limits and put Chicago in our rearview. I sat up a little straighter, watching the tree line for shapes.
I told myself it was silly. If these people tried to stop us, they wouldn't come running from the trees on the side of the highway, would they? They'd probably be driving a car.
Except after what Riggs said, I was now picturing them tossing grenades and shooting automatic weapons at us, as ridiculous an image as that was.
"How far is this place?" I asked.
"An hour, maybe," Riggs said. His voice was stiff. I could see how tense he was. Alert.
Seeing him so on edge made it sink in for me. I really was in danger. Not just germs or the potential of getting sick, which felt real, but different. It was a slow kind of danger. A creeping, inevitable kind.
This was more visceral. Somebody out there wanted to hurt me and my sister, or worse. And they could come at any moment.
It felt like I couldn't completely fill my lungs—like my chest was too tight to let them expand. I jerked my head toward any hint of movement, which kept turning out to be cars passing. Shocker.
I spent the next half hour or so in a nauseating state of hyper-awareness. I watched the dark trees swish by and the roads grow more empty as we got farther and farther from the city. Each mile seemed to heighten the sense of danger that was already thick in the air.
Just when I was telling myself we might make it without incident, a large black SUV pulled up beside us. The windows were heavily tinted. I looked around and saw there were no other cars on the road. I looked at Riggs, who was staring toward the SUV with concentration.
“Is that bad?” I asked.
Riggs seemed to consider for about half a second, then cranked the wheel to the side and rammed the truck into them.
I braced for impact, but it wasn't as violent as I expected. I felt myself jostle to the side and forward slightly as the tires skidded, but that was all. The SUV swerved away from us briefly and both back windows started rolling down. A man and woman looked out either window, and stuck guns out toward us.
Riggs swerved toward them again. A dark shape flew from the bed of our truck and into one of the windows of the SUV. One hand wielding a gun vanished. An instant later, the truck slammed into the side of their SUV again.
This time it was a harder hit.
My seatbelt held me in place hard enough I thought I'd have a bruise, and Riggs' thick arm shot out to keep me in place. Our truck swerved and jumped slightly, but Riggs managed to keep it upright. The SUV wasn't so lucky.
Its front end swerved as the drive over-corrected, then the back lost traction and the whole vehicle went flipping and careening down the road. I saw a body fly out the window like a ragdoll while it spun and landed somewhere in the median. After about twenty spins, the SUV skidded to a crunching halt.
Riggs slowed down, turning the truck to the side. He let out a whistle. A moment later, one of the doors flew open, and Fang emerged. His hands were bloody to the wrist and there was blood around his mouth. He loped toward us, and I saw his legs and arms were unnaturally long and covered in dark fur.
I stared dumbly, not quite connecting what had happened, even as Fang jumped in the back of the truck and gave the side of it a bloody-handed slap to let Riggs know he was ready. He already looked normal again, as if he’d transformed back in the blink of an eye.
Riggs started driving without another word.
When I looked back at Fang, he was jotting something down on a blood-stained notepad with a huge grin on his face. Weird.
"Good news," Riggs said casually. "Looks like Lazarus was otherwise occupied. He sent the lackies to slow us down and they failed. We live to irritate him another day."
"That's it?" I asked.
"For now. But we're getting close to the rebels. If Lazarus tries to come at us again, he'll risk doing it on their territory."
"Why would he care about that?" I asked.
"Our world is all about fragile balances. The rebels threw it all to shit a few years back. There was open war, but no side wants to lose large numbers. It's better for everyone if we find ways to make truces. To skirmish, but not devolve into all-out war. Nobody has the bodies to spare for that," Felix said.
"So they want to fight, but they don't?"
"The truth is everybody thinks they'll be in position to win the war if they have more time," Riggs said. "Werewolves stall because we think we can leverage the rebels to take down the Coven. The Coven stalls because they think relations will fray between us and the Rebels. And the Rebels think they'll convince us to join their war on their terms. It's a bunch of bullshit, but it's how it is."
"So we're safe once we get to this Blackridge place? Couldn't we just wait out the month there and Lazarus would have to leave us alone?"
"Maybe," Riggs said slowly.
Felix looked at him. "You're wondering why Lazarus sent such a half-assed attempt to stop us?"
"Yeah," Riggs said.
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"It means if Lazarus didn't want us making it to Blackridge, he has the resources to try harder. Whatever that was back there? It makes me wonder if Lazarus has some reason to want us to make it to Blackridge."
"Why would he want that?" I asked.
"Fragile balances," Riggs said with a grimace. "The thing about them is it doesn't take much to send everything to shit."
21
Riggs
We made it to Blackridge in one piece. I'd never personally been to the place, so I spent some time taking in the sights as we pulled through the front gate. Two young men wearing what looked like posh school uniforms let us through the gate. I felt my lip curl at the sight of them.
Fucking vampires playing at running some kind of boarding school. Playing at war and diplomacy. Thanks to my soft spot for a human girl, I was now the lucky asshole who got to dive headfirst into it all, too.
I was still trying to puzzle out why Lazarus had let us make it here. Because I could downplay it to the others all I wanted, but I knew that was exactly what he’d done. He had let this happen. Why, though?
Sylvie was beside me like a dog on the way to the park—her head perked up and on a swivel as she tried to take everything in. "Are those vampires?" she whispered, staring back as we drove past the boys at the gate.
"Probably," I said. "They certainly stink like vampires."
"Do vampires really stink to you?" she asked.
"Not exactly," Felix said. "He just hates them, so the smell pisses him off. To me, they smell like food."
I grunted. Technically, it was true. Vampires smelled like cooking meat to me. But it was like the smell of food that'd given me food pois
oning before. My body associated it with vamps, and it meant the scent alone was enough to piss me off and make me feel sick to my stomach at the same time.
"Park it over there," Felix said. "The Prince asked for you and Sylvie to wait out here while I bring Maisey in. He wants to meet you two before he trusts you to come in."
It figured. At least the Prince wasn't a dumbass, I supposed. He was right to worry that I'd rip his head off, and probably wanted to meet me under the most controlled circumstances possible.
Blackridge was a landscaped property surrounded by old trees and well-groomed mazes of bushes and flowers. Once we'd pulled off the main road, we were in a world of its own back here. We passed several secondary buildings, a statue garden, what looked like a greenhouse that was covered in vines, and even an area with sports fields and equipment. Fucking vamps.
The main building was nestled in the middle of it all. It towered at least four stories high with architectural flourishes like buttresses and towers. It looked like a goddamn castle, and I shouldn't have been surprised. Vampires always had a tendency to fancy themselves as medieval lords. It was part of their problem. They’d ruled the aristocracy in the old days, and most of them still saw themselves as better than anyone and everything else. Places like this just stroked their oversized egos even more.
It was nighttime, but that of course meant something different for them. A surprising amount of vampires who looked young—as unreliable as that guesstimation could be with their kind—were moving between buildings with books in their hands. They all wore the same gray uniforms with white and red trim.
I got out of the truck and sat on the hood while Felix helped Maisey toward the building. Sylvie wasn't thrilled about letting her sister go without her, but she seemed to realize putting up a fight would only delay Maisey getting help.
Within a minute of parking, they had taken Maisey inside the main building and I was left with Sylvie, sitting on the front of the truck. It was still warm from the drive. I also noticed several ugly dents and scratches from my battering ram maneuvers on the right side. It looked like I'd need to replace the wheel wells after this was all over. God only knew what I'd probably rattled loose under the hood.
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