The Society Series Box Set 2

by Mason Sabre

  Stumbling back, Cade pressed a hand to his throat where his father had got him. The hot heat of his life poured out between his fingers. Someone screamed his name from far away. Sounds, lights, flashes all seemed to go off around him in a burst of fireworks, but in his head, peace. He stopped moving, raised his eyes to meet with Gemma’s frantic, terrified gaze and sank to his knees.

  Hands caught him as his body slumped and his muscles filled with heaviness. His head became light.

  “No, no, no,” Gemma screamed at him. His blood soaked into her jeans.

  Chapter 44

  Gemma

  Gemma sank to her knees beside Cade. Her tiger screamed with feral need inside her mind, and the two of them clashed in a desperate grip as she pleaded.

  There was blood everywhere. His entire shirt was a dark shade of red, sticky, clinging to him. She pressed her hand to his throat, pressing against the jagged gouges his father had gifted him in that last moment. “No,” she said. “No.” She refused to let him go. Refused to let him die. They did not go through all this together, through all their pain for him to lie down and fucking die now. She wouldn’t accept it. “Open your eyes,” she said, growling her words at him. “Open your fucking eyes, right now.”

  Tears blurred her vision, hot, angry, grief-stricken tears that burnt against her skin with an agony she had never imagined she could feel. She pressed her hand against his chest, over his heart.

  Nothing.

  “You’re not dead. No. Do you hear me? Cade MacDonald?” Her words were screams, gulped out with every sob that rocked her body. “Please don’t leave me. Don’t. I can’t live without you.” The last part was a pitiful whisper falling from her lips. She slumped over him, sliding her arm under his back, pulling him to her. He was still warm. Still hers.

  “Gemma …” A gentle hand touched her back.

  She shook her head. “No,” she said. “No.”

  She clung onto Cade’s lifeless body like it was the only thing keeping her solid. When they had lost Connor, when she had felt that pain of a boy she had never met, she thought she would die. But she’d had Cade then. She’d had him to pick her up and carry her when her legs couldn’t. He couldn’t be gone. He couldn’t.

  The more Henry tried to pry her away, the tighter she held on. She pulled his arm over her back. It flopped. No life there to hold it, to give it any substance.

  “Let go,” Henry whispered into her ear.

  She could hardly hear him, hardly feel him there. His hands were light against her, holding her, touching her, trying to pull her from the only thing in the world that had ever made sense. And she’d let him go. She’d let him go to another.

  Positioning herself back, she cupped the side of Cade’s face the way he had done with her so many times over the years. The way she had felt him inside her. “I love you,” she said, her voice cracking, tears spilling down her cheeks onto him. She touched his face softly, taking in his perfect dark lashes, his jaw, everything. “Oh, God … you can’t go.” She pressed her cheek against his, clung to him as if just being there, she could pour her own life into his body. “I love you so much,” she whispered.

  This time, when Henry tried to move her away again, she let herself go limp, let herself fall as if she could die with him if she gave up enough, if she tried enough.

  “I feel your heart breaking with my own,” he said to her as he scooped her up into his arms.

  He didn’t walk with her at first. Didn’t move. She shuddered in his arms. Unable to stop the shaking that racked her body. “You,” she blurted, shooting up as if newly woken. She swiped at her eyes. “You … y-you can turn him. It’s not been too long. You can …”

  “Gemma.”

  “No.” She scrambled from Henry’s lap, threw herself back at Cade, but she had hold of Henry’s hand and she pulled him over. “You can. You can turn him.”

  He shook his head solemnly at her. “It did not fare so well the—”

  “It’s different this time.” A pause. She waited the whole of a split second. “Please, Henry. Please. Do something.” She let go of Henry’s hand, scurried around the other side of Cade, picking up his head again. “You can fix him. Give him blood. That works, doesn’t it?” She had read that. Vampires. They gave the blood to Others. It replenished them. Sometimes it was like a drug, but it could.

  “He is of a different world to me. Such crossing would not be possible. He is animal,” Henry said.

  She wanted to scream. She wanted to punch Cade so damn hard in his chest for this. She’d never accept it. No. Not ever. She pressed Cade’s hand to her face, cried against it, giving into that monstrous pain inside her. She’d been torn up, mentally, emotionally. She’d never get up from this again. “Please,” she said, whimpering. She looked up, met Henry’s eyes. “He’s you. He’s your soul.”

  He gave her a smile. Not the usual kind. Not the one full of selfishness, or laughter, but a knowing smile, a loving smile that was tinged with sadness. His victory … “I know,” he said.

  “Then please help me. If you love me like you say you do … please.”

  “It would riddle him with poison. One I am unsure if he would survive. He needs blood with life flowing through it. My own has been dead for very long.”

  She rocked again. This time putting Cade’s hand to her face the way he would do. “No,” she said. “Oh my God … no. You … y-you …” she couldn't get her words out. Couldn't breathe. “Y-your blood. When it's w-with me. You said. You said when you are with me, your blood is alive.”

  He stared at her. That stare … that same one Cade gave her.

  “It can.”

  “Gemma …”

  “Please. You said. You told me. They won’t let us stay if you don’t fix it. This is fixing it. This is your chance. They told you. They did. Please.”

  And they had. He had told her himself. They could only be reunited in their lives if he fixed what he had done. It made sense. It did. As she sat there, cradling the one thing in the world he hated. “He’s a MacDonald … this is it Henry. This is how you fix it. How we can be together.” Desperation formed a hopeful hole inside her chest, one that pressed so hard she stopped breathing. “Please, Henry.”

  “It may not work. His wounds are far beyond that of my abilities.”

  “Seal it with your saliva. You’re a vampire. That’s what you do? Right?”

  Her hands were shaking so badly as she tried to push Cade to Henry. Push him to the one thing she hoped would work. She held him tight, though. Held him like if she let go of him that would be it. He’d slip away and vanish from her life and there would be no hope, no chances, ever again.

  “Please, Henry.”

  Henry closed his eyes, gave her a sad nod. He was giving up everything for her. She knew that. “Tip his head back,” he said.

  Chapter 45

  Gemma

  Henry was sitting, leaning against a tree. His head was back, and his skin was paler than she had ever seen it, but he was alive. He watched her with such fascination. She felt it … felt the weight of his gaze on her like a fine silk that kept her safe.

  She sat opposite, her hand on Cade’s head. He breathed … oh, God; he breathed. She watched each time his chest rose. She listened to each raspy sound he made as he took in another breath … another second of life.

  “Thank you,” she said to Henry. She couldn’t stop the way she shook. The way her entire body surged with adrenaline and fear. Her heart still pounded wildly.

  Henry nodded. “He needs time. His wounds were that from a deep hatred.”

  “I know.”

  She lay herself down next to Cade, tilted his head to the side so she could watch him. She traced the tips of her fingers across his mouth, traced along his perfectly squared jaw. She took every part of him into her memory. It wasn’t enough. Touching him was never enough. He was her soul, a piece of her she couldn’t do without. “Please hurry back,” she whispered, fighting the fear in her belly.
r />   She let her eyes close and let her mind go to that place she knew he roamed. He wasn’t there, though. It was like a white empty room between them. A space in their minds that existed on a plane she couldn’t understand. Above her, the sky was dark … dark like the coldest of nights. Stars decorated the sky. All of them blinked. All of them shone brightly. Cade had told her he thought they were lives. Maybe … somehow, he saw them like a connection to everyone in the universe. Sometimes they blinked out and were gone.

  “Are you here?” she whispered when she stepped into that space in his head. She had never once gone to this mind place without him, never really been able to. It was his own secret place. His own space. She only knew of Phoenix who could call through it. They were connected. Cade had formed that bond with him to save his life.

  Gemma stood, stuffing her hands in her pockets, just content to stare up. She’d wait here all her life if she had to. She could live in her mind, in his … if it meant that he was with her.

  In the distance, something came into focus. Something moving. Gemma went to go toward it, but then it blinked out and was gone.

  “Hello?” she called, leaning to see. Ahead of her it was just a never-ending tunnel of white floor and blue sky.

  A giggle.

  Behind her. She turned around, eyes wide. She smiled. A small wolf cocked his head at her. So small he was unsteady on his feet.

  She crouched down. He had the most unusual colouring. Like someone had dropped him into a vat of paint the same auburn as her hair.

  “Cade?” She asked even though it was impossible. Maybe he was showing her things. Maybe this was some kind of afterlife he had to come through. She held her hand out, went down to her knees. “Hey …”

  The little one giggled again, the sound of a child and then he turned and scampered away. She went to go after him, to catch him, but something echoed behind her.

  “Gem …” The voice was weak, husky, barely there. But it sounded again. “Gem …”

  She opened her eyes, startled. Feeling like she had just been sucked out of some vortexual trance. Her stomach lurched, her heart leapt. “Cade?”

  His eyes were open.

  “Hi,” she said. She moved into him. Moved so she could press against his body even more. She needed to be a part of him. Like if she could hold him close enough they could become one.

  He licked at his lips and closed his eyes. Gemma thought for a second he’d gone again, but then he opened them and smiled.

  “Gave me a fright,” she said.

  Eyes closing again, soft breaths. “I told you,” he said. “I’m never leaving.” He made a choking sound, gasping. His back stiffened. Gemma put a hand to his throat.

  “Try not to move. It’s healing.” The cloth she had wound around it, darkened with blood. Not a lot. Not like before, but enough, so she wanted to put her hand over it. To hold his life inside him.

  Blue eyes met with hers. “My father?”

  Gemma bit her lip, shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

  He gave her the weakest of nods. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

  She pressed her face to his. Pressed her mouth close to him. He was the one to move, the one to take that last half a centimetre and press his lips to hers to kiss her. She held his face, kissed him back, and then let herself settle there. “I’m never letting you go again,” she said. “Never.”

  She felt a hand slide up her arm, slide to hers. “I—” He screwed his eyes shut for a second, cut his own words out. His lips twitched. “My father is dead.”

  Another pause.

  “Yes.”

  He opened his eyes wide then big, midnight blue eyes stared into hers. “Natalie …”

  A fist tightened around her heart. “You want Natalie?”

  “No … my father …” he took a breath and licked at his dry lips. “There’s no deal anymore.”

  Disbelief reigned in Gemma’s head. She leaned in closer. “But the baby.”

  “I know.”

  It was like it kept getting offered to them … like a promise being snatched away. “I’m not going to ask you to choose between me and your child. I’d never do that.”

  He rolled his head back, wincing as he did. Sweat beaded at his forehead and made his hair stick to his head.

  “Cade?”

  He swallowed. “I’m okay.”

  Gemma pushed herself up, so she was leaning on her elbow … leaning down and staring into the one face she thought she’d lost. “I’m never letting you go again,” she said. She ran her fingers along his hairline, pushing strands of damp hair back. “I’ll wait for you, okay? Whatever it is you need to do. I love you.”

  She glanced up just then, sensing the movement. Henry was standing, staring at them, a million expressions on his handsome face and for the first time … she saw him. She saw him as hers, as Mary’s … “I love you too,” she mouthed to him.

  He smiled and was gone.

  The End

  Epilogue

  Gemma

  Gemma pressed herself into the living warmth of Cade. He was safe, strong … alive, and not yet hers. He pressed his face into her hair, kissed her. His arms were snaked around her to hold her.

  If she closed her eyes, she could pretend … could fool herself that this was it. The end ... the end of a long and torturous journey.

  They’d fought, God, had they fought. She was exhausted from it. Every part of her soul was tired, aching. If she could have curled up in Cade’s lap and stayed there forever, she would have. He was her safe place, her strength, but at the same time, he was her weakness.

  “I still feel him,” Cade said.

  Connor … he was talking about Connor.

  “Sometimes, when I am out alone hunting, or running, it’s like I can feel him out there.”

  “Maybe his spirit?” She’d never really felt him. Not in the way Cade described, but then she had never really allowed herself to put out those sensors. What if she found him? What if he was there with her?

  “Something.”

  They sat for a moment, quiet, both of their thoughts locked onto their son. Her own mind tried to find its way to that place where she would get lost in the what ifs …. a lonely place.

  “Can I see her?” Gemma asked after a moment. She moved herself into a position where she could still touch Cade. Where she could still feel him there, but she wanted to see his face, for him to know she was sincere.

  Concern went across his face. He looked right at her, right into her. “Are you sure?”

  A smile. “Yeah.” She was ready. She fisted her hand against him, put it up against his chest, let herself take a moment so she could search inside herself. “Yes,” she said again.

  There was no denying the smile that twitched at his mouth was one of love, caring, but it was tinged with worry. She reached up, touched his face, his skin … her thumb across the strong bone of his cheek.

  He held her there, pressing his own hand on top of hers. “I’ll bring her down.”

  “No,” she said, her voice uncertain, but her heart trying to be brave. “I’ll come up.”

  She was the first to rise from their seat. The first to make the move. He was being gentle with her, careful, trying to balance what he wanted, but also the delicate line between his honour to Natalie and his love for Gemma.

  When he stood, instead of walking around her like she had expected, he pulled her to him, pressed her to the hard line of his body and wrapped his arms all the way around like steal bands. She let him. She listened to his heartbeat, felt the scars across his chest through his shirt as she pressed her face there. He’d not let them heal yet. Maybe he never would.

  His father’s death was the one thing he wouldn’t talk about. She’d tried, they’d all tried, but one mention of the name, Trevor, and Cade’s eyes would darken, his mood would drop, and he’d walk away without a word.

  Natalie was sitting in the corner of the room, sitting in an old rocking chair Cade had restored. She gave
a smile when he entered the room, like she’d been waiting for him, for them. Her smile was to Gemma.

  “Hi,” Gemma said. She stayed at the doorway a second, her chest swelling with her own anticipation of what she would feel in this moment. She leant herself against the frame in case she needed it and stared into the room.

  Phoenix’s old room.

  It was done out in soft pinks and pastels. On the wall, there was a painting. “Is that a tiger?” Gemma asked, stepping in, stepping through her fear and into the room.

  Natalie rocked gently in the chair. “Yes,” she said, her smile broadening. “For you.”

  She traced it lightly with the tips of her fingers, admiring the intricate detail of it. It was bumpy, raised, a perfect tribute to so many things. “Thank you,” she said, though she knew, she didn’t deserve it.

  “Do you want to hold her?” Cade asked. He’d sat himself down on the top of a soft topped box. A box, Gemma imagined, where they kept clothes and things like that. But he sat between the two women … his two women, but right then, the balance was tipping to Natalie.

  “Would that be okay?”

  “Of course.” It was Natalie who answered. She went to stand herself up, pulling herself out of the chair. Cade leant over, grabbed for her hand and offered her the support. In her arms was a wrapped, sleeping bundle, and Cade held his arms out. Natalie placed the baby against his chest. “Do you mind if I take a bath? I feel so disgusting.”

  Maybe she had done it on purpose … given them some time. It was hard for Gemma to hate her, although she knew she should. Any other woman would have, but there was a quality to Natalie … a goodness that came through everything. She patted Gemma’s arm as she passed.

  “Are you ready?” Cade asked when Natalie had left the room and they heard her walk down the hallway to the bathroom.