A Wicked Night

by Kiersten Fay

  Her stomach suddenly snapped and twisted, terror battling her insides.

  His expression went blank. “This could be your only chance for escape. If you want to leave me…I will understand.”

  Unexpectedly, her heart felt odd. Too full of something she couldn’t explain. She wondered if it was all her, or if she was picking part of it up from Bray.

  Certainly some of it was her emotions. The idea of abandoning him made her want to wretch. She’d been discarded, abandoned, and left behind too often in her own life. Doing it to someone else was unimaginable. Especially to someone who had risked his life, his freedom, merely to find an antidote to her suffering. Beating the doctor had undoubtedly been pleasurable for him, a long time fantasy come to fruition, but he hadn’t done it for himself. He’d done it for her.

  A tiny piece of that barbed cage that had entombed her heart so many years ago snapped away.

  “I’m not going to leave you,” she assured, then glanced around nervously as a sense of foreboding whispered along her nape.

  His curt nod might have appeared aloof if his immense relief hadn’t engulfed her, flooding her with so much heartbreakingly intense emotion that she had to allay their bond.

  Still, it softened her further and solidified her decision. However this escape played out, they were in it together.

  Only then did she consider a secondary fact. After the grievous last few weeks, she didn’t think she had it in her to manage on her own. No doubt they’d be traveling through a backwoods landscape. She knew how to survive in an urban environment, but the country? And, to top it off, icy air brought in the hint of snow. She already thought she’d seen a stray flake float by her outside. If they needed shelter, who knew how far the nearest town resided?

  “Here,” Bray said, handing her the shoes he’d somehow managed to keep dry. “Put these on.”

  Her feet were severely cut and bruised from their brash sprint over the sharp underground terrain. Slipping into the well-worn sneakers was a kind of luxury. They were a couple sizes too big, but a firm knot would keep them well enough in place.

  “There’s water here to clean off with,” he said, indicating a small pool that had collected at the back of the cavern. “No good for drinking, though, and a bit cold for a decent wash.”

  Their clothes were hopeless, but they managed to clear most of the red water from their arms and faces. Her long hair was a bit trickier, but Bray kindly offered to assist.

  Per his instruction, she laid back with her head just over the pool, her hair submerged. Using his good hand, his thick fingers gently folded through her strands and massaged the muck from her scalp. She stifled a moan at the first tender contact she’d received in weeks.

  By the time they finished, she was almost back to her natural golden color. Russet tints marred some of the strands.

  “How long till the sun sets, do you think?” she asked.

  “Three, four hours maybe.”

  She glanced at his bandaged hand. “Is it bad?”

  He shook his head. “The stuff in that bullet was made for a swift kill.” He tapped a finger against his forehead. “Anything other than a brain shot would have little effect. I’ll heal soon enough.”

  That was a relief. They found a spot and settled against one wall near the entrance, just out of the sun’s range.

  “What do we do if someone bad shows up?” Cora asked.

  “I’ll kill them if I can,” Bray said. “Or you could conjure up more of that seriously scary magic.”

  Her cheeks flushed. For one, because the seriously scary magic—and that couldn’t be overstated enough—had been as unintentional as breathing, and two, because Bray had rested his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close.

  She made no protest. She was already starting to shiver, and his heat was comforting. It would be a while before her hair and clothes dried, and by then, the sun would be long gone, taking what little warmth it offered.

  “If I thought I could give a repeat performance, I’d say no problem,” she said.

  “Yes, I saw your shock. Felt it too. That was something new.”

  “What was new?”

  “I’ve heard others try to explain the dark bond, an unbreakable and mystical connection. Some spoke of it as if in awe.”

  “So you’ve never been bonded before?”

  “Never got the urge. ’Spose that makes me a bit of a commitment-phobe.” He gave her a boyish grin. “But it’s not so bad from this angle.”

  She was unable to return his jubilance. “We’re not…you know, like a couple or anything.”

  He frowned. “’Course. I wasn’t expecting anything like that. I only meant to say that most people who engage the dark bond are typically in committed relationship. Obviously our situation’s different.” Some of the buoyancy left his expression.

  “Right.” She paused as an awkwardness took up residence between them. “Thanks, by the way. For knocking me unconscious. I was a little out of my mind back there.”

  He nodded, but didn’t look at her. “All better now?”

  “Mostly.” Heavy arousal still pumped through her system, but she was able to keep a firm grip on it…and her urge to run her palm over Bray’s chest. Would it be as firm as the steel it resembled? She cleared her throat. “Can you tell?”

  “How hard up you are? God yes.” He practically sighed the last.

  Heat blasted through her cheeks again. On some level, she’d known he could. His own lust was building off hers while feeding it back to her and kindling them both. The situation couldn’t get any more precarious if she were enticing him with a strip tease.

  The stray image had desire flaring again.

  His grip on her shoulder stiffened ever so slightly, but he gave no other indication that he’d sensed where her head was at.

  He must have some mega control. Mace would have been all over her. But then, Mace was a little insatiable and more than infatuated with her—for reasons she couldn’t fathom.

  He called it love, but she suspected it bordered on obsession. She wasn’t complaining though. Before her capture, by each day, her feelings for him had been growing.

  However, there was a lot that sat ill with her regarding Mace. Like all those pictures of her on his phone. And why had he guarded so much information from her? With the first, she could chalk it up to his unnatural interest. He’d told her he’d been watching her, that wasn’t news, but it should have just been for his case, and the images hadn’t appeared investigatory. In many of them, she’d just been reading on her back porch. Nothing nefarious to report there. Except that she wasn’t fond of bugs flying in her face.

  With the second, she had learned more from Bray in only a few weeks than all her months with Mace, and that probably was what hurt the most. Mace willfully kept her in the dark about the shot he had to take, about his rivalry and past relationship with Knox, and about the vampire law that stated Knox was allowed full access to her blood whether she liked it or not. He hadn’t even bothered to inform her that she should take care with her thoughts around Cortez. She hoped she hadn’t thought anything bad about the vampire, though, undoubtedly she had.

  How much more information would she acquired from Bray that Mace had failed to share?

  Her ire, overshadowed only by her continued worry for Mace’s wellbeing, managed to douse a bit of her lust.

  Bray seemed to relax then.

  Where he touched her arm, his thumb began a languid, almost unconscious, stroke. She realized he must be dying for physical contact, having been alone in that cell for so long, so she didn’t check him, even though it felt too good and reignited some of her desire.

  And anyway, it was comforting.

  Finally, the last of her lingering adrenaline began to drain, leaving her achy and tired.

  Bray said, “If you need to sleep, I’ll keep watch. When we’re able to leave sometime around dusk, we’ll be on the go nonstop till we get far enough away for comfort. Then there’s t
he matter of finding shelter before the sun rises tomorrow.”

  She figured she was too keyed up for any kind of beneficial slumber, so she was unprepared when sleep took her almost as soon as she closed her eyes.

  She slumped onto Bray’s shoulder. As she slipped into unconsciousness, she thought she heard, “Sleep well, my angel.”

  ——

  Cora jerked in alarm as the earth moved beneath her.

  Thinking the cave was crumbling around them, she almost hurled herself toward the exit, but there was no ground to push off of.

  Thick arms cradled her.

  She found the sky was wide open above her. A darkened, starless sky that was lit only in one small section by a hazy patch of moonlight, muted behind thick cloud cover.

  Night’s gloomy influence leached away color so that everything was a monotone in gray. Except for Brayden.

  His expression was focused with determination as he marched them through what appeared to be a ravine surrounded by towering mountains. A stream softly babbled nearby. The temperature had plummeted drastically.

  Her body was curled against him as if she’d been unconsciously seeking his warmth.

  He greeted her with a simple, “Good evening,” though he stared straight ahead. His tone was deep and rumbly, yet he didn’t sound out of breath.

  “Hi,” she replied, sending him gratitude through their bond.

  He smiled then. “You badly needed the sleep. I didn’t wish to wake you.”

  He leapt over something—a fallen log perhaps—and continued at a steady pace. She marveled that her weight didn’t seem to slow him. Then again, she wasn’t sure how fast vampires could run when not burdened by the weight of a second individual.

  “How far have we gone?”

  “Several miles,” he replied.

  Thank the Goddess!

  She hadn’t realized till this moment she’d had a one-hundred percent expectation of being recaptured back in that cave—torn from freedom and strapped back into that evil gurney.

  But that hadn’t happened.

  Thanks to Bray.

  Her relief was so great that she began to shake, and like a stampede, the gravity of all that she’d endured—mental and physical abuse, weeks of torture—bombarded her.

  She gleaned Bray’s urgency to put more distance between them and the cavern. They weren’t free and clear yet.

  At the thought, renewed fear sprouted wings and soared through her veins, flooding her with chaotic and unexpected anxiety. Her chest filled with pain and her breath came in arduous gasps.

  Even now someone could be racing after them!

  Her pulse jacked up as her windpipe narrowed.

  It was as if all her emotions over the last few weeks had been bottled, sealed, and marked for reopening at this exact moment. Her shaking intensified.

  “I realize you’re about to lose it, angel, and I’d love nothing more than to stop here and find comfort for us both, but if you could hold out a little longer for me.”

  She felt his rawness then. His apprehension and fear. He dreaded recapture as much as she did.

  She swallowed the terrified lump building in her throat and blinked away the moisture in her eyes as she willed her body into control.

  She concentrated on breathing in and out. In and out.

  Finally, her shaking lessened by degrees.

  “There’s a girl.”

  He crossed the stream, bounding over it, and started up an incline without breaking pace.

  “Do you know where we’re going?” she asked.

  “South would be my guess, judging by the stars.”

  “You can read the stars?”

  “My father loved to sail. Taught my brother and me to navigate at sea. Then, after I was reborn into this life, the stars were all I ever saw. The UVTA hadn’t been invented yet, so for a long time I was but a creature of darkness.

  “UVTA?”

  “Ultraviolet toxin antigen.”

  “So, daylight is toxic to vampires?”

  “Mm. UV light to be more specific. It’s like a poison that affects our dark cells, killing them off slowly with prolonged exposure. From the outside, everything appears normal at first. As time passes, we start to weaken. We grow pale and gaunt, like an extreme case of dehydration. Then, toward the end, we start to resemble a corpse. That’s where a lot of the older vampire myths came from.”

  “It sounds horrible,” she said.

  “It’s not so bad if exposure is limited.”

  “I’ve spent too much time in the sun, but I just end up looking like a lobster.”

  He crossed a meadow, picking up speed. “Hm. It so happens I love lobster.”

  She couldn’t stop a smile at his impish look.

  “Because of my age, I could probably manage a few hours in the sun without showing signs, but it’s draining. Sort of like the opposite of Superman.”

  She vaguely recalled Superman as being a character in some comic book she’d once viewed from behind three inches of class at a museum exhibit. “You’re not a closet comic book nerd, are you?”

  He laughed. “Hey, respect the Lee.”

  “The Lee?”

  “Stan Lee,” he pronounced the name slowly. “Comic book king? Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of him?” At her expression, he said, “I guess he was long before your time. Back in the day, even vampires lined up for his autograph. ’Course, at the time, no one knew there were actual vampires walking around.”

  Though their conversation was soothing, lingering anxiety crept over her again, trying for a foothold.

  In an attempt to distract herself, she asked, “Do I finally get to learn how old you are?”

  His eyes slipped to her and then darted away as if he was nervous to answer. “Roughly five hundred.”

  Breath stunted, she gasped, “You’re…You’re…ancient!”

  He exhaled on a chuckle. “I’m older than most, sure. The wars really dwindled our numbers. Forced us into clans.”

  Naturally, her mind turned to Mace. “How old is Mace?”

  Bray turned quizzical. “He hasn’t told you?”

  She went quite. Yet another thing he’d held back from her.

  ——

  Cora didn’t respond as he maneuvered them through the uneven terrain. He sensed a bit of resentment from her over this topic.

  If Mace was treating her ill, Bray wasn’t beyond taking the advantage to win her affections. “Mace is young by our standards. Chronologically between forty or fifty, I believe.”

  “That’s it?”

  Bray nodded. “You thought he was older?

  She shrugged. “What about Knox?”

  “He’s around one-hundred or so, I think. Maybe a little older. He was turned at the very start of the uprisings, so chronologically he could be about one-hundred and thirty.”

  Cora’s brows drew up. “And they related?”

  “They’re both descendants of our sire’s bloodline, from what I understand.”

  “From Trent?”

  Her surprise was disconcerting. Had Mace told her none of this? “I’m unsure of the specifics, but clearly they’re relation is very distant.” Trent was old. All his closest relations had died long ago, his bloodline diluted over the ages. Anticipating her next question, he added, “I’m not aware of Trent’s true age. All I know is when he turned me he was already centuries old. He’s the eldest of our clan, which is typical of most clan leaders.”

  “Does Trent turn all his relatives?”

  “Only a select few have been chosen. And before you ask, no, I’m not related to him.”

  “Why did he decide to turn Mace and Knox?” It seemed as though she was trying not to sound too interested in this topic, but Bray could sense her hunger for knowledge.

  “Both were needed to replenish our numbers and fight the uprisings. I guess he saw something in them.”

  “I can see why he’d choose Mace, but Knox is so…unruly.”

  “He wa
s not always so.”

  At that, she blinked up at him. Her curiosity was piqued to new heights. But Bray didn’t want to talk about Knox and Mace. Not when he finally had a free moment with her. Having her in his arms was more satisfying that anything in recent memory. Her body felt perfect against him. Her warmth seeped into him as her scent permeated his brain. She smelled scrumptious. Like fresh baked bread and spices and cookies and oranges. Or so he imagined. His conscious could be over exaggerating a little. He hadn’t smelled the sultry perfume of a female in ages.

  There was one thing he was one-hundred percent sure on, however. If he lived another five hundred years, he would never forget the complex fragrance of the female in his arms. Or the wild fierceness she’d displayed when she let lose her magic. As her curse on the doctor had taken hold, had she even realized how her golden hair floated around her as if by a supernatural force? How her skin had practically glowed from her use of magic? She had been magnificent. Terrifying and beautiful. Like an avenging angel. His avenging angel.

  He’d gotten to know her over the last few weeks. Such a short time—in ordinary circumstance. But theirs was anything but. Theirs was a bond not only forged in blood, but also in hardship and suffering, commiserating and solace, teamwork and survival.

  He’d known her only a short while, but he wasn’t the kind of man to vacillate. He always knew what he wanted. There was never any question. And what he wanted was her.

  Unfortunately, all she seemed to want was intel on the other two men in her life.

  He tried to direct her interest elsewhere. “I owe you my life, you know?”

  She considered him with a dubious eye. “If anything, the opposite is true.”

  He shook his head. “Five years I’d been unable to free myself. Yet, within only a few weeks of your arrival, here I am, racing through the night with a beautiful woman in my arms.”

  That made her blush a lovely hue.

  She ducked her head. “I really didn’t have much to do it.”

  “You had everything to do with it. Without you, I’d still be shackled to that wall, suffering and bleeding at their convenience.”