by Karin Tabke
With Lazarus’s attention turned even for a brief second, Marcus seized the opportunity and made his break out of the room and down the corridor so fast that his body was only a dark blur. He cleared the exit into the sultry night air. He felt a sudden rush of air go past him. Lazarus.
Everything slowed to a grinding halt. Marcus saw the master vampire settling to stand just ahead of him. Gathering Jax tighter to his chest, Marcus cut right and accelerated toward the dilapidated packaging plant at the edge of the parking lot, but Lazarus was there again. Marcus could not fight his maker with Jax in his arms. If he set her down, she would be dead before he returned to claim her. Marcus bit down hard on his lower lip until his blood flowed down his chin. He pressed his lips to Jax’s and with his tongue gave her as much of his life-saving blood as he could in the few short seconds he had.
Almost immediately, her heart rate stabilized, but it was still weak and much too slow. But— He looked up to see Lazarus coming straight at him. Marcus set Jax down on the asphalt and hurled his body straight at Lazarus. They crashed with a sickening thud in midair. He grabbed his maker by the shoulders and swung him in a high arch, then tossed him into the broken row of third-story windows on the plant. Marcus went crashing in after him. While the outside world was hurtling by, he and Lazarus appeared to be in a time warp of slow motion, movement matched by equal movement. Speed matched by equal speed.
The building was dark, dusty and full of broken pallets. None of it slowed Marcus down. Cutting back and forth in a fury of speed, Marcus rose to the fifth floor and met his maker, who stood atop a pile of stacked cardboard.
“Now what, Marcus?” Lazarus softly demanded. “We do battle?”
“That’s up to you. You could just let us go.”
“You, I might be able to trust not to divulge our secret, but not her. She has a separate agenda that I cannot allow.”
“Then we really have no other choice.” Marcus leapt and dove into Lazarus, hurtling him into the concrete wall behind him. The impact shook the glass from the windows. Shards rained down on Lazarus. But the old vampire kicked Marcus away, the velocity sending him nearly thirty feet away. He landed on a wooden pallet, shattering it. Marcus struggled to his feet, grabbing a two-by-four-foot piece of the pallet.
Lazarus hovered several yards in the air in front of him. “You’ ve gained strength through your growth, Marcus. Still, I will kill you if you leave me no option.” Lazarus stood above him, delaying his rise. Dropping onto his back, Marcus made a quick roll right and shot his legs into Lazarus, knocking him to the ground. Spinning away, Marcus leapt to his feet and darted deeper into the building. Lazarus was in hot pursuit.
“This can only end one way, Marcus!” Lazarus called from behind him.
Marcus flew through the air from behind and planted both feet into Lazarus’s back. Any mortal man would have been dead from the whiplash caused by the impact, but Lazarus was no mortal; his neck remained intact. Marcus stabbed Lazarus in the back with the two-by-four, impaling him to the floor. Lazarus screamed, not in pain but in fury. Marcus leapt up and moved into the depths of the building.
“I grow weary of your game!” Lazarus called. “The girl will be mine again and you will have to come to me on my terms!”
Marcus watched from his perch as Lazarus yanked the wood from his shoulder and stood, tossing it aside. Then he stood still and scanned the darkness. When he could not detect Marcus behind the stack of pallets, Lazarus turned and turned and turned, forcing the air to rise up around him. With it, the littered pieces of wood from the old pallets flew through the air like missiles. Marcus braced himself, then deflected each piece of wood launched at him, sending it directly back to its point of origin.
Like the true master he was, Lazarus blocked them with forearm blows. The faster they came, the faster he defended his position. Marcus leapt from his spot and down to the floor beneath Lazarus. He grabbed a bundle of copper piping and hurled it backward toward the colonel.
“Destroy me and you destroy yourself!” Lazarus screamed. Marcus leapt toward his maker and grinned. A short piece of pipe had impaled Lazarus’s left thigh. Marcus reached down, grabbed another piece of pipe, and shoved it into Lazarus’s gut. Blood spewed from the wound. Lazarus looked up in complete shock. Marcus ran it through.
“Leave us be!” Marcus yelled at Lazarus. “I have claimed her as my mate! It is my right, and I will defend it to the death if I must!”
Silence. Lazarus did not move. His eyed glared red. His skin had paled to white. He dropped to one knee. Reaching with his left arm, he grasped the pipe, slowly pulled it from his gut and flung it aside. Grasping with both hands the other pipe protruding from his thigh, Lazarus gave it a hard tug. As he pulled it clear, blood poured from the wound. Marcus had hit his femoral artery. Lazarus cursed and flung the pipe aside. He would survive, but it would take more than a few minutes to recover from the blood loss.
Marcus did not wait; he turned and jumped up through the broken windows to the asphalt parking lot and then to Jax.
She lay where he had left her. He gathered her into his arms and moved toward the dark streets for a car to hot-wire.
Thirty
Jax was dying.
Without hesitation, Marcus took her north to Clearlake, where he’d spent his troubled childhood. After he had come home from Afghanistan, he’d purchased a small cottage on the lake. It was where he went to decompress. No one, not even Lazarus, knew of its existence.
It was just before daybreak when he pulled up in front of the lake house.
He gathered her into his arms and carried her to the house, kicking in the thick oak front door and striding to his room. Carefully, he laid her down on the bed.
“Jax,” he called as he gently shook her. Her head listed to the right. Her skin had blanched white, and her breath was barely discernable.
After rolling up his right shirtsleeve, he sunk his fangs into the thick vein in his forearm. Life-saving blood sprang up. Giving the damning consequences of his action no thought, Marcus pressed his arm to her lips. “Drink, lovely,” he softly said. Her eyes fluttered open and, in their depths, he saw clear to her soul.
His skin chilled. She was in a place he could not reach, a place she chose to retreat to, a place she might never return from. Her eyelids fluttered closed. Urgency gripped him. “Drink,” he commanded.
She moaned, turning away from him. He grasped her head in the palm of his free hand and forced her lips to his blood. Still, she did not drink. “You’ re a coward, Jax Cassidy,” he hissed. He forced open her mouth, then squeezed the bite on his arm. Blood dripped in a thick stream into her mouth. She gagged. He forced her to swallow. She gagged more and he forced her to swallow again.
Her fingers brushed against his arm, then she clutched him to her and drank herself. Her need for his life-saving blood and, even more so, her acceptance of it filled him with a crazy sense of elation. It didn’t matter that he’d damned himself.
It was forbidden to willingly give a mortal this amount of immortal blood. The penalty? Death. Or, if his creator was feeling generous, perpetual torture.
He growled low. Damn Lazarus! Damn them all! Seeing what they’d done to Jax’s friend—seeing what he’d planned to do with her—had broken the chains that had bound him to his creator forever. He would never succumb to another’s command again.
Not even Rurik’ s.
Marcus looked down at Jax, who was still drinking from his vein. His heart, as much as he still had one, swelled with emotion. He hadn’t realized until she’d come into his life how dead he had been. Knowing her, wanting her, and having her only to lose her would be the worst form of eternal existence. She was worth his life or an eternity of torture. Gently, he brushed her matted hair from her now sleeping face. Color had returned to her cheeks. Her chest rose and fell in deep, even breaths. He hoped his blood would be enough to sustain her ravaged body. Had she not had even the small amount she’d taken when she’d bitten him days ag
o, there would have been nothing he could have done for her. Now, he could save her, the way he hadn’t been able to save her fellow operative. Shane’s life was out of his hands now.
Tenderness for this tiny warrior filled him. Never had he felt such an urge to protect. Smiling, he imagined her reaction if he voiced his thoughts. Those huge green eyes would widen in surprise and she’d probably punch him.
She’d been a handful before she’d taken his blood. Now, with his blood surging through her veins, she’d be unmanageable. But, he let out a long, exhausted breath, she would be alive.
Her hands fell from his arm as she went completely under, falling into a deeper sleep than she’d probably know again. Good. She would need it.
Marcus rose, moved to the window, and pulled back the heavy drapes. The dark film on the glass buffeted by the thick plantation shutters on the outside kept the slightest rays of sun from the room. The rest of the house was exposed, but this one place, with the exception of an unused lamp, remained black.
It was unfortunate. The bedroom had complete lake exposure. The sunsets were one of his few fond memories of his boyhood here.
He gathered towels and warm water, then stripped Jax, growling at the harsh red and purple bruises on her belly. Several spots were raw. He cursed when he saw the slice to her upper thigh. Her upper lip was split, and she had a cut over her right eyebrow.
He shook his head. She was something else. And having taken out Gideon . . . Marcus cracked a smile. Good girl, Jax. But what amazed him more than the fact that she’d tended to Shane in this shape was the fact that she’d taken on Lazarus and survived. Twice. As if she’d really believed she could take down the North American coven leader with her special bullets and a stake to his back.
Marcus shook his head in disbelief. It would take more than her paltry armory to eliminate a vampire as old and as powerful as Lazarus.
Her naked body shivered in the cool morning air. He wrung a towel out and gently wiped the blood and dirt from her face, then the rest of her body. The cut to her thigh had stopped bleeding. He could not help but press his lips to it.
He closed his eyes as her essence filled his senses.
She moaned softly and moved. Marcus moved away and finished bathing her. When he was done, he pulled a sheet over her naked body.
Striding to the front of the house, he closed the door. The lock was destroyed, but he wasn’t worried about intruders. He’d smell them within one hundred yards.
He showered fast. When he came out, toweling himself dry, he smiled. She had not budged. He climbed into the large custom-made bed with her, gathered her into his arms, and closed his eyes. Taking deep breaths, he soaked her in, reveling in the fact that she lived.
Her smooth warmth felt good against his skin. Her soft breath fluttered against his chest. He closed his eyes and just experienced her in this quiet state. Even as the euphoria of having her in his arms surged, he accepted it couldn’t last.
He would die bringing Lazarus down, but he would do it. Only he could. There was too much at stake if he didn’ t.
Marcus kissed the top of her head. She snuggled more intimately against him. His blood flared in his loins. His fingers tightened on her skin. He closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled.
It was going to be a long night, but he would enjoy every second of it.
Jax woke to black.
Her first realization was that she was alive, but how? . . .
She tried to move but couldn’ t.
Where was she? Had Lazarus locked her up in a dungeon?
It took several minutes for her senses to adjust. She smelled Marcus before she heard his deep breaths. She was wrapped tightly in his arms.
Her heart rate picked up as her sense of security returned.
He had come for her. Fought Lazarus and saved her life.
She reached out and touched his hand. It was warm. It warmed her. He’d come for her. Despite everything, he’d come for her.
No one had ever come back for her before.
The blackness in the room diffused. She could see as if it were daybreak. The black curtains over the window, the oak nightstand, the lone lamp atop it. The large bed she lay upon. It was morning. She could smell the dew. She sat up, and the events of the last twenty-four hours flooded her system.
“Shane!” she whispered. Hot tears stung her eyes.
Strong arms once more wrapped around her naked body, drawing her close. “Shhhh,” he soothed.
“Shane. Is he—?”
“I don’t know.”
Jax broke Marcus’s hold, flinching at the pain in her belly. “You left him there?”
Marcus scowled and raised up on an elbow. “I was a little busy fighting my maker, who was pissed beyond description, and trying to save your life. Your buddy was the last thing on my mind.” He reached up to her cheek and rubbed his knuckles across her skin. “But, because I’m not a complete monster, I called 9–1–1 and gave them his location. He’s probably at Highland Hospital in Oakland.”
She swallowed, trying not to remember the feel of Shane’s blood on her hands. “What happened to Lazarus?”
Marcus shrugged. “I gave him a good ass kicking, he returned the favor, then I managed to buy a few minutes and get us both out of there.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, brought his lips to hers and kissed him. “Thank you,” she murmured against his lips.
His body swelled and hardened. His arms tightened around her. “You’ re welcome,” he breathed, then pressed her back into the pillows.
Jax’s body responded, but her brain would not shut down. “Marcus,” she breathed, breaking their kiss. “How is it I’m not dead?”
He hesitated, then said, “I gave you my blood.”
She stiffened. “Am I—?”
He shook his head and smiled a soft smile. “No, but once your body has absorbed all of my blood, you will feel like you did at twenty and have five times the strength.” He kissed her nose, then said, “Don’t let it go to your head.”
She laughed. For a while, she snuggled in his arms, then looked up at him. “I need to know if Shane’s alive.”
He sighed. “The hospital won’t give you that information. And besides, there is nothing you can do for him now.”
Shaking her head, she urged him to understand. “I can call my people. They need to know where he is, they need to know I’m alive.”
After staring at her for several long moments, Marcus nodded, then reached over to the nightstand to grab his cell phone and hand it to her.
“Thank you,” she said and called Godfather.
“Black,” Godfather said, his voice clipped.
“It’s me,” Jax said.
“Jesus Christ, where are you? We found your GPS in an abandoned meat packing plant in Oakland. Have you had contact with Donovan?”
“I’m safe. Lazarus got ahold of Shane. He . . . should be at Highland Hospital in Oakland. I don’t know if he’s dead or alive.”
Godfather paused. When he spoke, his voice was even harsher. “Did you eliminate Cross? What’s the status on Lazarus?”
“No, and I don’t know.”
“Cassidy, give me your location. I’m sending in a team.”
Marcus took the phone from her hand and gently held her down when she tried to fight him for it.
“This is Cross. Jax won’t be available until later this evening, at which time she will contact you.” He hung up.
Openmouthed, she stared at him. “What did you do that for?”
“You’ re staying here. Where it’s safe. No one knows of this place. Once you’ re at one hundred percent, you can give your people a full update. Until then, Jax Cassidy, you, are all mine.”
Narrowing her eyes, she studied him. The worry in his eyes. She caught her breath. The raw burn mark around his neck. Gently she touched it with her fingertips. “I’m so sorry.”
He grasped her fingers and kissed them. “I forgive you.”
She reached up, pressed her lips to his wound and licked his skin. He stiffened. “I thought I was going to die, Marcus, and never see you again.”
“As long as I have breath in my body, Jax, I will always protect you.”
“Tell me everything is going to work out.”
He smiled and gathered her into his arms. He kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her nose and finally her lips. “Everything is going to work out.”
She sank back into the smooth sheets, bringing him closer against her heart. “Make love to me, Marcus.”
She gave herself up to him, inviting—no, demanding—
his touch.
Somehow, though she’d never have thought it was possible, she let it all go. Lazarus. The pain. Even her worry over Shane. She reveled in the way his big hands stroked her skin to fire. The way he touched her as if she’d been fine china that, if handled too harshly, would crumble. The way he made her feel like the only woman on the planet.
His tenderness quickly turned to fiery passion. She responded with an appetite for him that she feared would never be sated. Their impatient bodies wanted to connect. To become one. Now, forever.
She arched into him as he entered her, oh so slowly, and oh so deeply. Jax closed her eyes, letting her head fall back and his hands catch her. Everything about him excited her.
His power, his passion, his smooth skin. And his eyes? His soulful eyes, so full of pain and glory. He made her feel things she had never felt in her life and instinctively knew she’d never feel again, no matter how long she lived.
He was her other side. The dark, demanding, passionate side. There were no words to describe what he was to her. Lover was so inadequate. She didn’t love him. No, what she felt, what she knew, was beyond that. They hung suspended, connected, heart, blood and soul. She fought back tears as emotion overcame her.
She didn’t know why it was him, a tortured and immortal soul, who’d given her back what she had lost so long ago—her hope, her willingness to open her heart again and to trust another being with it.
They were doomed, she knew it. He was dead and she was alive.