Her hands shook, but she took the album and flipped open the front page. Photographs of her as a child, some with the pastor and some from what appeared to be child services files, filled the first several pages. Then photocopies of her art taken from the web. She swallowed. “You have more than one of these?”
“I have tons. In every place I go.” He gingerly sat at the edge of the bed, his brown eyes earnest. “You’ll see that we belong together. I’ve dreamed of you my whole life, and I’ve been trying to reach you for so many years.”
She couldn’t breathe. All right. “You’re not very good at stalking.”
“You’re excellent at running and hiding,” he countered, his chest puffing out.
She shook her head, wincing at the ensuing pain. Memories of the helicopter crash slammed through her brain. “Did Quade and Ronan survive the accident?”
Pierce’s eyes darkened. “That hybrid isn’t your business. Even if they did survive, they’ll be useless for years. You need a real male. Me.”
How delusional was he? “You left me with the pastor to be whipped and burned,” she snapped.
He winced. “I didn’t know that was his plan. But there’s a silver lining.” His eyebrows rose, and he reached out to grab her hand. “I have the money he paid me. We can go anywhere and do anything. Together.”
Was Quade all right? She had to get back to the wreck or at least call Realm headquarters and beg the king to go find him. Quade and Ronan could be buried beneath burning metal right now. Couldn’t burns kill a hybrid? Panic threatened to choke her, so she took several deep breaths. The pain in her head began to dissipate. “Do you understand how crazy you sound?”
Pierce’s hand tightened over hers. “Don’t you get it? We’re both alone and have always been. Together, we have somebody. I knew the first moment I looked at your picture, when the pastor hired me, that you and I made each other complete.”
Do not feel sympathy for this nut job. She gently withdrew her hand. “You don’t have family?”
He shrugged. “Just parents and two brothers. Other than them, I’m alone.”
That wasn’t alone. “Do they know about your obsession with me?”
“Not really. We keep our business separate, and until now, you were business. Now that we’re together, I’ll take you to meet them.” His smile made his eyes glimmer oddly. Was that what crazy looked like?
Yes, he was nuts, and she could use that. “I, ah, need time.” To get the hell way from him.
He clucked his tongue. “We should mate and get all of that settled, just in case the vampire survived the crash. Or is he more demon than vamp?”
Mate? Oh, hell no. “I don’t know. How do you tell?” She shifted toward the edge of the bed.
“You can usually just sense it. Like you’re more Fae than demon, but I can see both in you.” He drew the photo album closer to his chest as if it was something precious. “I’m full-blown cougar. Our kids will be an interesting blend.”
Right. She set both feet on the floor, gratified that her socks and jeans seemed to have dried. There were still a few wet patches on her shirt, but she wasn’t cold. “Do cougars get a mating mark on their hands?” She stood and checked out her legs, making sure all her bones were in the right place.
“No. We just have sex and bite deep.” He stood, his head tilted. “You know there’s nowhere to go, right? The storm is a whiteout. Can’t see a foot in front of your face.”
Yeah, but she didn’t want to be in the bed any longer. He was bigger and most likely stronger, definitely faster than she. But she was smarter. Without question. “I, need to use the, ah…”
“Oh.” His expression lightened. “Door to the right of the kitchen. It isn’t much, but at least it’s attached.”
She swallowed and strode past him, looking for weapons. There wasn’t even a knife block on the counter. She found the door and pushed it open, finding basically an outhouse. She shut the door and leaned against it. No window, no escape route. Okay. She’d have to strike fast and hard.
She used the facilities and then stepped out into the kitchen.
He waited by what looked like a battery-operated hot plate. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes.” She grabbed the nearest object, a cast-iron pan, and swung it as hard as she could at his head.
At the last second, he pivoted, ducked, and charged. “You’ll regret that,” he roared, knocking her back into the cupboard.
Chapter Thirty
Laser bullets that turned into metal upon hitting immortal flesh fucking hurt. A lot. Quade took the impact to his back from the guy behind him, punched the guy in front of him in the throat, and then turned to charge. He hit the soldier square on, grappling with him over the icy ground and landing at the edge of the cliff.
They both realized their position at the same instant.
The Cyst’s purple eyes widened, and he scrambled to shove Quade off him.
Quade slapped the gun from his hand, rose up on his knees, and shoved the Cyst as hard as he could. The soldier slid in the ice and snow, going over the edge and bellowing a panicked cry. Landing was going to hurt.
A knife slashed into Quade’s neck from behind, and he turned, yanking it out at the same time. Blood welled from beneath his jaw and pain exploded in his head.
Growling, he stood, bracing his feet to keep from falling on his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he tracked Ronan fighting with two Cyst over by the tree line. When had the fourth guy appeared? How many more were there?
The soldier in front of him reached for a gun at his waist.
Bellowing, Quade ducked his head and knocked the bastard into a tree. Snow and ice pummeled down, covering them both. He swung hard and fast, sending the gun spinning into the dark forest.
The soldier punched him in the neck wound.
Quade’s vision turned red and then black. He swung out instinctively, nailing the Cyst soldier in the nose. It cracked, and the soldier snarled.
Grunts came from the fighting trio in the trees. Quade’s eyes cleared, and he punched the Cyst in the mouth, breaking several teeth. Pain flashed along his knuckles, so he punched again and again, going for speed rather than placement.
He advanced on the soldier, following him into the trees, ducking and dodging blows while landing his. He’d spent centuries fighting, and even a soldier as well trained as this one didn’t have his speed. Or strength. Quade’s legs weakened from blood loss, but he ignored the pain, striking repeatedly until the Cyst dropped to his knees.
Blood covered his pale face and long strip of white hair, even spotting the braid that reached his waist.
The Cyst lunged up with a blade that had been hidden.
Quade tried to jump back, but the blade ripped into his right leg, cutting deep. Blood poured from the wound, and he instantly sent healing cells to it, ignoring the damage to his throat.
Hisses and growls came from the forest, and he partially turned to see the two Cyst advancing on Ronan, who was bleeding profusely from his neck and arms. Glass from the crash was still embedded in the back of his neck, and bright red blood dripped to the snow. He dropped to one knee.
Hell.
Quade grabbed for the bloody knife in his leg just as the Cyst did, and they struggled, their hands slipping on it. Quade partially turned, steadied himself on his injured leg, and side-kicked the Cyst in the head. He fell to the side.
Ronan bellowed.
Quade partially turned to find one Cyst holding his shoulders and the other slicing at his neck.
Fuck.
Quade ripped the blade free of his leg and plunged it into the soldier’s neck in front of him as the guy tried to rise. He twisted, partially tearing through the entire neck. The soldier dropped to the snow, blood pooling around him.
Panic clawed at Quade, and he drew on it for energy, leaping acros
s the clearing and tackling the guy with the knife in his brother’s neck. The soldier turned at the last second with the knife and tried to stab it beneath Quade’s rib cage.
The blade cracked and dropped uselessly to the ground. “Impenetrable torso, asshole,” he muttered, his fangs dropping. He slashed them, quick and deadly, into the enemy’s neck, ripping and tearing, grunting like an animal.
The Cyst’s blood burned his lips and mouth, but he drank deep, taking the nourishment along with the pain. The soldier fought him, slashing with claws across Quade’s lower jaw, but he held tight, draining the bastard.
Rain and snow battered him as the blizzard increased in strength. He tossed the unconscious Cyst to the ground and struggled to turn. “Ronan?” he croaked.
Ronan was on his knees, his fangs in an unconscious soldier’s neck. The Cyst’s head was partially off, with a knife still sticking out beneath his ear. Ronan sucked deep, and color exploded across his face. His neck slowly started to mend, blood mixing with the pelting snow. He threw the Cyst to the ground. “We don’t have time to take their heads.” Struggling, he leaned over and grabbed a device from the soldier’s pocket, tore the back off, and threw a small object into the forest. “Let’s take the snowmobiles.” His eyes were unfocused, but he stumbled to his feet.
The trees and snow whipped around Quade, making him even more dizzy. Could he really drive one of those things right now?
Ronan reached him, and they helped each other through the trees. “They’ll have more backup coming soon. We have to move. Fast. Can you still scent her tracks?”
Quade caught a slight whiff of oranges. “Barely.” They had to hurry.
* * * *
Pain exploded across Haven’s shoulder blades from the wooden cupboard. She dropped the pan and fell on her butt.
Pierce grabbed her hair and swung, tossing her end over end toward the sofa. Her scalp screamed.
She hit face first, turned, and faced him. “You are crazy,” she gasped, rubbing her aching nose.
“You tried to take me out with a pan.” He picked it up and set the heavy iron on the cupboard. “I’m starting to think you don’t like me.”
“I don’t like you,” she exploded, grabbing the sofa to haul herself to her feet. “You’re crazy. Obsessed. Are there any immortal shifter loony bins? I mean, do they exist?”
He frowned and crossed his arms. His blond hair had red highlights that glowed from the fire, and his eyes had turned a lighter brown, nearly honey. “I am not obsessed. My people believe in fate, and I know we’re fated.”
When he said it, the whole thing sounded crazy.
But when Quade had said it, she’d felt all hot and bothered and kind of happy. Interesting. “Does it bother you any that I don’t want to mate you?” she asked, rubbing her aching scalp. He’d pulled her hair, darn it.
Pierce’s mouth tightened. “You’re just scared, and that makes sense. You’ve had a rough childhood and don’t trust easily, and you have walls like a Scottish castle around your heart. Don’t be frightened.”
“I’m scared to mate Quade, not you,” she snapped before giving herself time to think.
Pierce smiled. “That says a lot, don’t you agree?”
Yeah. It did. Quade could hurt her, and not just physically. The truth smacked her like another blow to the head. “You’re right,” she murmured. “I am afraid to trust and even to love.” Plus, she couldn’t control Quade in the slightest. He was more of a control freak than she was, and that was definitely saying something. “I’m afraid of you, a little bit, because you’re asshat crazy. But I’m afraid of Quade…” She trailed off, her mind spinning and not just from continual brain trauma. “Because he could break my heart.”
“Your heart is mine,” Pierce hissed.
She hadn’t even known she still had a heart until she’d met the hybrid. “He says he can’t love.” That was risky, then. She wasn’t the type to take a risk. “What if he’s just forgotten how?”
Pierce snarled, his canines elongated. “I’m not here for a therapy session, and I’m not your damn shrink.”
She waved a hand, her mind spinning. “I’m figuring stuff out here. Just hold on.” She paced to the fireplace and back. Sure, Quade wanted to mate her and gain her gifts, but partially that was just to save her. “Does he feel obligated because of the mating marking on his hand?” she muttered.
“Hello!” Pierce snapped. “I’m standing right here.”
If Quade felt obligated, then that wasn’t good enough. She wasn’t risking the defenses she’d built around herself just to help him fulfill a responsibility. Pausing, she looked at Pierce. “Forever is just forever, you know?” What if things didn’t work out? What if…
“You’re not concentrating,” Pierce said, his hands fisting at his sides.
“I am concentrating,” she countered, pacing again. The fire gave off a nice glow, but adrenaline was attacking her body, and it was difficult to think. “What if he ends up not wanting me?” Everyone in her life had decided she wasn’t worth it.
“Damn it.” Pierce smashed his fist against the counter, and the old wood shattered. Shards stuck into the wall and dropped to the floor.
“I know.” She held up a hand. “I’m an adult, and it wasn’t my fault crazy people adopted me. It wasn’t my fault that whoever left me with them did so.” The words and logic were one thing, but her heart felt otherwise. “I’m accomplished. I make money from doing something I love.” Painting kept her sane. She’d been on the run for so long, she hadn’t had time to just stop and think about what she wanted from life.
Survival wasn’t enough.
She stopped by the fire, letting the crackling flames heat her chilled bones. “I’m not a risk taker. There has been too much risk thrust upon me.” Every time she went to sleep, she risked not coming back. How insane was that? She was so tired, and her body hurt. Her head hurt. But sleep was a mistake. It was a miracle she hadn’t entered that horrible portal the last time Pierce had knocked her out. The memory of Quade’s kiss, of their incredible night together, heated her faster than the fire. “Being safe might not be enough any longer.”
“You are not safe.” Pierce ground out each word.
She waved a hand. “Oh, I know that. But maybe it’s time to take a risk. He did offer to mate me, and he seems to like me. Said so himself.” She bit her lip. “Could it be more? I’ve never felt like this with anybody, even my earlier crush.”
“Damn it.” Pierce lowered his head and charged, the claws of one hand extended.
Haven reached behind her, grabbed the fireplace poker, and held it up. He ran right into it, impaling himself. Blood welled from his lips, and he clutched the handle. He dropped to his knees, his eyes wide. When he pitched forward, she scrambled out of the way.
His face hit the wooden floor with a satisfying thud.
The poker extended out of his back, and nausea rolled through her stomach. “You’ll live. I think.”
A high-pitched engine roared outside, and a second later, Quade kicked the door open, jumping inside. Blood covered his neck and torso, and his eyes were a deadly black. Even so, he looked big and strong and fierce with the wild storm behind him.
She put her hands on her hips, facing him. “We have got to talk about this whole mating thing.”
He looked around, grabbed his bleeding neck, and pitched forward onto the floor. Out cold. Ronan stumbled in behind him, also holding a bleeding wound, looked around, and then dropped to his knees.
She frowned. “Well.” That was a lot of blood. “Glad you two survived the crash.”
Ronan chortled, and blood bubbled from his lips. Painstakingly, he took a phone from his back pocket and dialed. “Adare? Come get us as soon as possible,” he muttered into it, his body swaying. “I think we’re ninety miles or so south of Realm headquarters. There are two snowmobiles
, a cabin, and a fire.” He dropped the phone, smiled at her, and fell sideways. His eyelids shut and his body relaxed with a sigh as unconsciousness took him.
She studied both males and then sighed. “This is some rescue.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Quade came to in a bed with the sound of a roaring fire crackling in his ears. Tingles cascaded through him, finishing the job of healing all his injuries. He opened his eyes to see Haven across the room, drawing furiously with charcoal on a pad. His tension eased. She was there, and she was fine. He looked around.
Stone walls lined with copper and silver, stone floor, weird-looking fire. No smoke. The bedroom just held a bed and one sturdy yellow chair by the fire, where Haven drew. He partially sat up, and the blanket fell to his bare waist.
She glanced his way. “Hey. You’re all healed. How do you feel?”
He took inventory. The Kurjan blood had helped, although the damn stuff had burned his throat and then stomach the entire time. “Well.” He narrowed his gaze at the fire. “What is wrong with that fire?”
“It’s electric.” She set the pad aside, and he took a moment to study her. Dark circles bruised the delicate skin beneath her eyes, and her mouth appeared pinched.
His heart rolled over. “You’re afraid to sleep.” How long had it been for her? Definitely too long.
Her hand shook when she brushed her hair back from her face, highlighting her delicate bone structure. “Yes.”
He blinked, surprised by the admission. Instinct whispered that he should not press her. “Where are we?”
She shook her head. “Underground at Seven headquarters, and I have to tell you, it’s kind of a disaster.” She leaned forward. “We nearly had our heads taken off when we entered the mountain because the booby traps misfired, and then all the computers went down, and there was yelling. A lot of yelling.” She shuddered. “This is one of many bedrooms, and there aren’t any rugs or anything yet. But the fire is nice. Well, the fake fire.”
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