Ellora began to scream in earnest as a few of the bugs looked like they were burrowing into her flesh. Rivulets of blood began to leak from her wounds, but the bugs seemed to absorb it, and a thread of a luminous color began to seep into their wings. Each flutter seemed to pump more and more blood.
Ellora tried to stagger to her feet, only to drop back to the ground, barely able to lift her head.
While part of Annora was horrified at what she was doing, she felt no remorse. She refused to back down, refused to soften, not until she got what she wanted. Though her uncle’s blood might run through her veins, she felt none of the lust he did while inflicting pain on others.
Blood trickled from Ellora’s nose and mouth. When the fox glanced up, Annora saw blood and black tar streaming from her eyes. Annora crouched in front of her, unperturbed at the thought of the vixen dying. “Your body is slowly being consumed. If we don’t leave here soon, it will be too late. Give him up.”
Defiance shimmered in those black eyes for a few more seconds. She gritted her bloodstained teeth in one last attempt to resist, then gave up with a shriek, “I release him.”
Yet Annora made no move to touch her, a whisper in the back of her mind urging her to just leave the girl in the afterworld. She didn’t deserve compassion or forgiveness. A low chitter drew her attention to the ferret who pawed gently at her leg. “Edgar?”
Annora shook her head, the toxic need for vengeance slowly fading. She lifted Edgar and snuggled him to her chest, not surprised when he dove under her shirt to get away from what was out there.
She wondered if all the evil she saw in the afterworld was somehow influencing her.
But what finally shook her out of her apathy was that even knowing she was being influenced, she still wanted to kill Ellora. It was all she could do not to just leave her where she lay.
Ellora’s lungs were raspy as she slowly crawled toward her, her fingernails cracked and broken, her pale skin nearly covered with the tiny creatures.
If Annora didn’t move now, it would be too late.
Still she hesitated…then she imagined what would happen to Logan if the bitch died in his vicinity. She refused to put him at risk just because she felt the need for vengeance.
“Shit.” Annora grabbed the vixen’s wrist, and reluctantly drew them back into the real world.
Bright lights nearly blinded her as the afterworld dropped away. Her limbs felt heavy, the air thick and uncomfortable in her lungs. She shook off Ellora’s clinging grasp and saw that the stunning woman now looked like a strung-out drug addict. She’d lost a good twenty pounds, her skin tightly stretched over her bones. Her hair was limp and thin, her skin no longer pale but sallow.
When Annora glanced around the mall, she realized Logan and the others were on the opposite side of the escalators. She spotted Logan the same time he locked eyes on her.
Then he began running toward her.
“You should’ve killed me while you had the chance.” Ellora gave her a nasty smile. “You’re dead.”
Ellora thrust out her hand, fire erupting from her palm. Annora twisted quickly, protecting Edgar as a stream of fire hit her shoulder instead of her chest. Pain sizzled along her flesh, burrowing down to bone, and it took her a few seconds before she was able to shut off the flash of agony.
Annora glanced down at her shoulder to see her skin had blistered and peeled away, her flesh raw, like it had melted.
Then she looked up and smirked. “Aw, honey, do you really think a little bit of fire would get rid of me? Believe me, much worse has been tried and failed. Killing me won’t make me go away.”
Chapter Ten
Annora staggered to her feet just as Logan reached her. He grabbed her uninjured arm and pushed her gently behind him, as if to protect her from further harm. He snatched a button-down shirt from a nearby mannequin and threw it over her shoulders to hide her injury from prying eyes.
If a human saw it, someone would call the authorities.
The fabric was like sandpaper against her wound, the agony bordering on pleasure when adrenaline flooded her body, the release of endorphins making her feel alive.
It was fucked up the way her body had adjusted to the pain over the years.
It fed off the adrenaline, craved it like a drug, the pain twisting into pleasure when her brain scrambled the signals, a defense mechanism she’d developed while dealing with her uncle.
Annora resisted Logan’s grip when he tried to pull her away, and she peered out from behind him, allowing herself a vicious smile. “Remember your word. Logan is no longer yours. If anyone comes after him, you know what will happen.”
Ellora blanched, the terror of being returned to the afterworld making her scramble backwards to get away from them. Then her groupies gathered around her like a shield, glaring daggers at them. Only when Annora was sure none of them would retaliate did she finally allowed Logan to pull her away.
“Shit, we have to get out of here before any of them work up the courage to come after us.” Logan dragged her through the crowd, elbowing people out of the way when they got too close to her.
She kept her head down, her plain, dark brown hair falling forward like a curtain to hide her face. The smell of charred flesh made her guts churn, and she forced herself to breathe through her mouth. While she could filter out and adapt to the pain, she could never train her stomach not to become violently ill by strong smells—charred flesh, the overwhelming ammonia in urine, fecal matter, singed hair…it was embarrassing what could set her off.
“Hold on, we’re almost there.” He ushered her down another flight of escalators, then out the side door. In under five minutes they were back in his car, speeding through traffic. He used the traffic lights more like suggestions and completely ignored them as he sped through one after another.
Then suddenly he veered off to the side road and slammed on the brakes.
He stared straight ahead for a few seconds, breathing hard, his grip strangling the steering wheel. When he turned toward her, his face was white, his expression granite, but his wild, frantic eyes gave him away. He gently lifted her arm. “Let me see how bad.”
Annora shrugged, the flash of pain stealing her breath for a second before it dulled and her system flooded with more endorphins. “I’m fine for now. Just get us back to the house. I can clean it up there.”
His gaze snapped up to hers, searching her eyes before his mouth tightened and he nodded. Logan didn’t speak a word until they were a few minutes out from the house, when he took out his phone and dialed a number. “We’re coming in hot.”
That was all he said before he jabbed his finger at the phone and tossed it to the floor. His clipped voice was so full of menace she curled back into her seat, slowly stroking Edgar’s small ear where his head poked out of her shirt.
A minute later, he was speeding through the university’s streets with a squeal of tires that warned everyone to get out of the way. He didn’t slow down for pedestrians, nearly mowing over two of them in his rush.
They screeched up to the house in record time.
Logan flung open his door, not bothering to close it as he rushed around to her side of the car. To avoid the inevitable confrontation, she threw open the door before he could get there and hauled herself out, a flash of pain shooting down her arm for a second before she could block it.
She could only deal with the damage done to her body for so long before it shut down and went numb.
She was reaching her limit, the raw flesh tingling dully. The only reason she could still move and function was through long practice—she couldn’t afford being weak, and she’d conditioned her body to take far worse and keep going.
The door to the house slammed open a second later, and she was surrounded. She gave them a bright smile. “I’ll see you inside.”
Then she took the coward’s way out and ghosted them, going invisible for a few seconds so she could dash around them. She heard them cursing as she rushed toward the
house, but she didn’t stop until she was in her room…and jerked to a halt when she saw two other Edgars already waiting for her.
She blinked at them, then scooped up the one currently napping around her neck and lifted him to eye level. “I think you have some explaining to do.”
They each blinked up at her at the same time, but when she heard boots thundering up the stairs, she dropped the ferret on the bed and beat a hasty retreat to her bathroom, locking the door behind her, knowing the thin barrier wouldn’t buy her much time. She gingerly eased off the shirt Logan threw over her, then winced at the horrible mess of her shoulder, the raw flesh looking worse than she expected, the wound sill oozing blood.
Not a second later, pounding sounded on the door. “Open up right this second.”
Logan sounded so pissed she bit her lip. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
She didn’t want them to see her weak and vulnerable.
Slipping back into the afterworld to heal herself was out of the question. Whoever was stalking her would be too close. Not to mention the energy required to heal serious injuries would knock her out for at least a day, and she couldn’t afford to miss so much time.
There was a moment of silence on the other side of the door. She leaned closer, and heard the men whispering…loudly…and she hastily shoved her arms through the borrowed man’s shirt to cover the extent of her injury, the touch of the starched fabric on the open wound leaving her dizzy.
“What the fuck happened?” Camden’s voice was harsh, easily recognizable.
“You were supposed to keep her safe.” Mason’s tone was sharp with a reprimand.
“Were you ambushed?” Xander was in warrior mode.
“I fucked up.” Logan sounded tortured. There was a scuffle when he spoke again. “Let me go. She’s fucking injured and needs help.”
Not a second later, wood splintered and the door to the bathroom was ripped clear off its hinges.
All four guys stood there glaring at her.
“Downstairs. Now.” Camden turned on his heel and marched away.
Xander scanned her from head to toe, his eyes lingering on the matted blood on the shirt, as if he could see her injured shoulder, before he too left. Logan and Mason didn’t move—they were waiting for her to go first, not giving her a chance to disobey.
Heaving a frustrated sigh, she stomped across the room, jarring her shoulder as she did, setting off ribbons of pain to streak down her arm, but she didn’t care. She barely felt it anymore. She marched into the kitchen to find Xander had opened two large tackle boxes full of medical supplies on the kitchen table, and saw even more boxes stacked on the seat next to him.
“Sit.” Xander didn’t bother to look at her when he issued the order.
Annora glanced around the kitchen, feeling cornered as they surrounded her, and she couldn’t stop the way her heart began to slam against her ribs. Darkness began to swim around the room, and she struggled to keep herself whole. “Back up. Please! Everyone needs to back up.”
She gripped the counter as her knees shook with the need to run, and she concentrated on controlling her breathing. The three ferrets scurried into the room, then circled her shoes, hissing at the guys. She knelt, grateful for their support, gently rubbing their heads until they calmed, each stroke easing her own anxieties.
“Grá, we need to check your shoulder.” Logan crouched in front of the fridge, staying two feet away to give her room, but refusing to back up, refusing to leave. He looked pale and shaken, his anger having long since burned off.
She knew they wouldn’t leave, no matter how much she argued. Heaving a sigh, she pushed to her feet. “Fine.”
Mason edged around Logan. “Let me help.”
He grabbed her hips and gently lifted her until she was seated on the counter. He immediately removed his hands and retreated, as if afraid to spook her again, and she gave him a small smile. “Sorry, I’m just not used to being around so many people.”
“We can leave,” Mason offered, and the rest of the guys tensed.
She gave him a small smile. “No, it’s better now. Just don’t make any sudden moves and I won’t forget.”
“Forget?” Logan latched onto the one word as he straightened to his feet.
“The injury is messing with my mind. Instinct takes over, and it takes me a moment to remember you’re not hunting me.” No one spoke for a moment as they gaped at her, then Xander slowly inched closer and nodded to her shoulder, his hands in the air to show he meant no harm.
“I need to look at your injury.” He didn’t drop his gaze or move as he waited for her to adjust to his nearness.
With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, she shrugged out of the shirt, the pain so buried that she hardly felt anything. When Xander saw her injury, he sucked in a harsh breath, and she glanced down at the meaty mess.
When no one moved, she grabbed what was left of her shirt collar, ready to tear it and take care of the injury herself.
“Stop!” Camden snapped.
Annora froze then looked over at him. “What?”
But instead of answering, the guys shared a glance, like they were communicating and leaving her out. “Don’t do that. If you have something to say, spit it out.”
Camden nodded toward her wound, but kept his arms firmly crossed so not to scare her. “I can knock you out so you don’t feel the pain.”
He actually appeared worried.
It was kind of sweet.
“No, I’m good.” She didn’t tell them she was afraid of being unconscious. Bad things happened when she wasn’t awake to protect herself. Besides, she barely felt the pain anymore. It was more of a stinging sensation, a reminder that she’d taken damage.
The guys glanced at each other once again, more quickly this time, before they looked back at her. Then Xander began to examine the injury. She automatically inhaled the scent of fresh sea air that was so much a part of him, easing the nausea caused by the stench of her charred flesh.
Up close he was even more intimidating, but she barely felt his touch as he probed the wound.
His beard was cropped neatly, covering half his face, and she was fascinated by what it hid. His lips were full, and she surprised herself by wondering what he would taste like. She quickly ducked her head. She wasn’t innocent—she couldn’t be after what she’d survived—but she’d never actually kissed anyone willingly, never touched anyone with the expectation of pleasure.
No one in the kitchen moved, and they scarcely breathed for the next thirty minutes while Xander worked. Only when she was bandaged and he began to clear up supplies did she jump down from the counter, barely feeling the pain when the movement jarred her injury.
“Whoa!” Every one of the guys jumped forward, as if they expected her to keel over.
But they all stopped short when she remained standing.
“How bad is the nerve damage?” Camden wore his usual scowl, his eyes on her injury like it was his fault.
“None.” Xander glanced up from his task and looked at her with an inscrutable expression. “She has a high tolerance for pain.”
“Bullshit.” Logan shoved away from the fridge, both of his hands clutched in his hair. “She didn’t even flinch. Not once.”
When they all turned to her, she shrugged. “You get used to it after a while.”
“Fuck me.” Logan swallowed hard, then shot out of the kitchen, his eyes locked on the ground as if he couldn’t bear to look at anyone. It only took him a moment to cross the house and head outside.
She was afraid he was going to run, almost followed him, when he finally sat and began to build a fire in the pit, as if too restless to sit still.
Mason inched closer, drawing her attention, his lavender eyes dark, as if searching for the truth. “You’re okay?”
“I’m okay.” She glanced to where Logan disappeared, but before she could take a step, Camden blocked her way.
“We need answers.” He rubbed the back of his neck, guil
t clouding his face, as if the whole mess was his fault. “What the hell happened? You were just supposed to pick up clothes, but you come back empty-handed and injured.”
“It’s not really my story to tell.” Annora glanced at Mason over Camden’s shoulder. “Can you keep an eye on Logan?”
Instead of the protest she expected, he nodded, his footsteps surprisingly light as he followed his friend outside.
Camden gave a nod, and Xander left as well, leaving them alone.
Annora was suddenly wary. “What do you want?”
He gestured for the table. “Sit. Please.”
She wanted to refuse and run after the others. Something about being alone with Camden felt worse than having them all crowded around her. When she didn’t move, he sighed, then walked toward her and calmly pulled out a chair. “You need to touch me, but it will be much better if you’re sitting.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it, amused when he cleared his throat uncomfortably, his grip on the back of the chair white-knuckled. “In case you drop.”
She suddenly felt horrible.
She knew what it was like to be so isolated…afraid of touching anyone.
She had no room to judge.
Then she narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re planning to drug me.”
One way or another, he was determined to take away her pain, whether she felt it or not.
“You might not feel the pain, but it’s there. It’s your body telling you when to rest. A few hours of sleep will do you good.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Besides, we’ll be up late. You need to rest while you can.”
She couldn’t fault him for his honesty.
And he was right.
Against her will, her gaze swept over him, his invitation to touch him messing with her mind. Everything about him was powerful, a man used to being obeyed, but loneliness clung to him in a way the others didn’t have.
He isolated himself to keep the others safe.
It didn’t matter that the isolation was destroying him.
“Fine, but we’ll do this on my terms.”
He scowled, but didn’t object, already knowing to settle for what he could get. When she moved closer, he stiffened but didn’t retreat, and she wanted to comfort him. Another step and she was a foot away, and she watched his throat bob painfully.
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