Bittersweet Christmas_The Order

by Nina Croft

  She patted his arm and then walked out. That had been almost too easy, but he couldn’t stop to think about it. As soon as she disappeared, he packed a cooler box with bags of blood from the fridge. Then he grabbed his wallet and keys, the long black coat, and let himself out of the apartment.

  He took the elevator up two floors to the parking garage, loaded the cooler into the back of his black SUV, and climbed into the driver’s seat. He had to get away from the building before Winter realized he was gone.

  …

  Winter paused in the stairwell and peered around the corner as Ryan disappeared into the elevator and the doors closed. She chewed on her lips as she tried to push down the guilt welling up inside her.

  He was upset right now, but he really hadn’t left her with any other option, and time was running out. It would all work out for the best in the end, though.

  She’d come to realize over the last couple of days that Ryan was essentially a really good guy. He was staying away from Liam because he truly believed that he would do his nephew more harm than good by being in his life.

  But she could hear the sadness in his voice when he spoke of Liam. He might not think of himself as much of an uncle, but he was aware that he was all Liam had.

  And Liam needed Ryan. She’d read and re-read his tear-stained letter.

  She’d had to find a way to bring them together. And it wasn’t just so her dad would support her getting a job. That might have been the case in the beginning, but she’d come to care for Ryan. He was hurting. And Liam was hurting. And she had the power to help them both. It was no time to be squeamish.

  She’d come up with a cunning plan. Clearly the only way to make Ryan go see his nephew was if he believed Liam was in danger. So she’d arranged the call. He would go running to Liam’s aid because he was that kind of guy. She would give him a few minutes head start, then she’d follow on behind, doing her bodyguarding duty from a safe distance. Liam and Ryan could have a happy reunion, and spend a wonderful Christmas together.

  That was worth her suffering a little bit of guilt. A definite case of the end justifying the means.

  Of course, Ryan was probably going to be pissed off when he realized that she’d played him. But hopefully he’d be so relieved Liam was safe that he’d get over it quickly. He didn’t seem to be the kind of man to hold grudges. She hoped.

  And once they got back from visiting Liam, she would make sure they had some alone time with no interruptions.

  She realized she was humming “Jingle Bells” under her breath.

  It was meant to be.

  He liked her. She could see it. They’d grown close over the last few days and she liked to think they would be friends as well as lovers.

  And after the holidays, Piers would be so impressed with her bodyguarding skills that he would give her a job at the Order. Her dad would be so happy that she had made Liam’s Christmas wish come true, he wouldn’t argue about it. She reckoned some sort of PR position, managing social media maybe. She was good at that, and it would be important work once they revealed themselves to the world.

  She took the stairs up to reception. She wanted to give Graham a heads up that they would be out of town for a few days and not to worry. She had everything under control.

  He glanced up and smiled as she approached. “Hi,” he said. “I was just trying to get hold of you.”

  “You were?”

  “We’ve had a couple of anonymous tips. Apparently, Marissa has been made pack alpha of the city werewolves. Which is bad news for us, and even worse news for Ryan.”

  “Who’s Marissa?”

  “A mad bitch. She was the old alpha’s mate—Ryan killed him the night he was attacked. She wasn’t happy, to say the least. And now that she’s in charge, Ryan’s in real trouble. The first thing she did was to put a bounty on his head.”

  For a second, the words didn’t make sense. “His head?”

  “Yeah. Essentially, she wants it detached from his body. I’m trying to get hold of Piers and the others, to see how they want to handle this. But don’t worry about it. Just keep Ryan inside until we have it sorted out.”

  She blinked a couple of times, trying to get her brain working. This wasn’t happening. “Inside?”

  “The building is warded. Nothing is getting in here. He’ll be safe.”

  Oh, shit, fuck, crap.

  “He’s not here.”

  “What?”

  She swallowed. “He’s gone. To visit his nephew for Christmas.” Oh God, should she mention the bogus call? But what good would it do? This was her fault. She had to get him back. “He gave me the slip, left me a note.” She sent up a tiny prayer for forgiveness for the lie. “I have to call him.” She scrambled in her bag for her phone, then punched in Ryan’s number.

  “Pick up, pick up.” Only, he didn’t. Obviously, he didn’t want to talk to her. He was following instructions.

  “You try,” she said to Graham.

  A minute later, he shook his head. “Not answering.”

  Agh!

  Panic churned inside her. What to do? She hit his number again, typed in text…

  Liam is safe. The call was a fake to get you out of the building. But you have to come back. There’s a price on your head. Call me.

  He didn’t call.

  “I’m going after him,” she said. “Keep trying. And let me know.”

  She’d fucked up big time. Now she had to get out there…and make sure Ryan’s head stayed securely attached to the rest of him.

  Chapter Seven

  Ryan’s phone rang as he was driving out of the building. He glanced at caller ID. It was Winter, and he ignored the call. A few seconds later, another call. This time, it was Graham. He ignored that one as well, then switched off his phone and tossed it onto the passenger seat.

  Light snow was falling as he drove though the city. His brain scrambled to come up with a plan, but he couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that Marissa had his nephew.

  What the hell was he supposed to do? That bitch hated him. No way would she let Liam go, even if Ryan did turn himself over to her. He needed a plan and his brain wouldn’t work. Christ, he’d thought he was doing so well, keeping his distance from Liam.

  He was out of London now and on the M25, circling the city. It would take him at least four hours to reach his old hometown of Kendal.

  Resting his head against the seat, he stared out into the darkness. The snow was getting thicker as he headed north, big fat flakes that swirled and splatted against the windshield. The roads were quiet, but he slowed his speed to a crawl. If he crashed, he was fucked. And Liam was dead. If he was stopped for speeding, then Liam was dead. Hell, likely Liam was dead anyway.

  A car had slid across the road, blocking the exit from the motorway, and he sat for an age, waiting for it to clear. He could feel his anger and frustration rising. Nothing he did would ever be enough.

  He’d failed his sister. Now he was failing Liam.

  He was guessing Sally had planned to tell him she was sick last Christmas. Instead, he’d been attacked, and he’d never spoken to her again. Stage four breast cancer. By the time she went to the doctor, it was too late for anyone to do anything for her. The sad part was, if she had told him, he could have saved her. Roz was a witch and a healer. She would have cured his sister.

  Sally had left him a letter…and the guardianship of his nephew. In the letter, she’d asked him to keep a watch over Liam. She’d said he was a good boy and asked Ryan to try and see that Liam had a better life. How the hell was he supposed to do that? He was a newly turned vampire. He didn’t even know the boy. And he’d convinced himself that Liam was better off without him.

  He’d contacted an old school friend, one of the only people he’d kept in touch with after he left. Steve had been his best friend at school, and he’d also joined the police force, albeit the local one. He’d married his childhood sweetheart straight out of school, and they had four children. Whi
ch meant they were always short of money. Ryan had offered him an obscene amount to take Liam into his home for the next three years until the boy was eighteen.

  He’d done his best. So why did he always feel guilty when he thought of his nephew? Why did he feel he should have done more? Now it was probably too late.

  And in that moment, he swore that if they got out of this, he was going to be part of Liam’s life.

  At last he was finally moving again. The snow was thickening. He switched on the radio to get a weather report. Fucking “Jingle Bells” was playing, and he switched it off again.

  The swirling snow was almost mesmerizing, together with the rhythmic whir of the windshield wipers. He couldn’t see far in front of him, and he kept his gaze fixed on the road directly ahead. He seemed to be getting nowhere after driving for hours.

  Lights flared in his rearview mirror. A vehicle was coming up behind him, fast. A big vehicle. Probably some sort of lorry, from the height of the lights. He waited for it to slow down, but instead, it just got closer. There was nothing else on the road. Why the hell didn’t they just pass him if they wanted to be total arseholes and drive too fast in these conditions? He flashed his lights to encourage them to go around him. But they were still coming.

  He squinted. The lights were almost blinding him now. At the last minute, he realized they weren’t going to slow down, and he jammed his foot on the gas pedal. The SUV leaped forward, but it was too late. The truck rammed into him from behind. He fought with the wheel as his car skidded. Then he was rammed again. He hit a bend in the road and he was sliding sideways. Somehow, he gained control once more and grabbed his phone, switched it on, and pressed speed dial. He was pretty sure that he wasn’t coming out of this alive. But he wanted someone to know what had happened. Winter was going to be pissed. Looked like she’d failed as a bodyguard. He hoped Piers wouldn’t be too hard on her.

  “Graham?”

  “Where the hell are you? I’ve been—”

  “I’m just north of junction 26 on the M1, and I’m about to crash.”

  His car was rammed again, and this time, it left the road. He was skidding sideways, and he dropped the phone and grasped the wheel. But the tires could get no traction, and then he was rolling. Down the steep bank. Over and over.

  He blacked out for a moment. Or longer. He couldn’t tell.

  The cool, soft caress of snow falling on his skin brought him around. When he opened his eyes, he was upside down in the overturned vehicle, hanging from the seat belt. The windshield was shattered, and the thick sweet scent of blood filled his nostrils. For once, the scent didn’t raise his hunger, probably because it was his own. He felt no pain, but blood was dripping from a wound on his forehead. And gushing from a cut on his right arm. He felt around with his left hand, fumbling for his phone, but couldn’t find it.

  Hell, he was going to die here. And then Liam would die.

  No way.

  He knew enough about werewolves to know that if he shifted, he would heal himself. Inside him, his wolf clawed down his sides, howling to be free. But Ryan didn’t know how to let him loose.

  He breathed deeply, calming himself. He needed to get out and away from the vehicle. Whoever had forced him from the road would no doubt come and finish the job. But when he tried to pull himself free, his right hand was useless, his arm almost sliced through.

  Shit.

  The wound would heal, given time. And he’d recover…if he got food. But he suspected time was not something he had much of.

  Which meant he needed to free himself right now, grab some blood from the trunk, and get the hell out of here.

  He peered through the broken windshield and up the embankment. A lorry was parked up on the hard shoulder and two figures passed in front of the headlights. They were coming for him.

  But there was something else.

  He heard a siren in the distance, getting louder, and saw flashing lights. The vehicles were closing in and the figures hesitated. They were talking together, and then they retreated. A minute later, the lorry pulled away, and a minute after that, a police car halted just above him. Then another. And an ambulance. Graham had managed to call in the cavalry.

  It looked like he would live to see another day—well, another night, at least. His wolf whimpered. Ryan relaxed his hold on his control and felt the encroaching darkness. He needed to stay conscious, but the strength was seeping from him with the steady flow of his blood.

  Flashlights headed down the embankment. He fixed his gaze on the lights, trying to keep his eyes open, but his lids were heavy. He was cold, but then he was always cold. At the thought, heat flared inside him.

  Sleep, he whispered.

  And his wolf slept.

  He relaxed his control and the darkness took him.

  Chapter Eight

  Winter was the first to admit that she wasn’t a good driver. With the icy roads and the heavy snow, she was all but shaking by the time she pulled into the hospital parking area.

  Please, please, don’t be dead.

  He was a vampire. And a werewolf. Both were almost impossible to kill. She had to hold on to that.

  Unless whoever wanted him dead, knew what they were doing.

  Ryan was so young in supernatural terms.

  And she was supposed to have kept him safe. This was her fault. She would never, ever forgive herself if anything happened to him.

  Graham had told her to wait for backup. That if someone had forced Ryan off the road, they could very likely have followed the ambulance here to finish the job. That was what she was worried about, and she wasn’t waiting around for it to happen. She was his goddamned bodyguard and from now on, she was going to do her job.

  She parked the car as close as she could get and then ran for the entrance.

  “A man was brought in here ten minutes ago. Car accident on the M1,” she said to the receptionist. “Where is he?”

  Something flashed across the woman’s face. Pity? “Are you family?”

  She bit back her impatience. “Yes. I’m his…wife.”

  “Could you give us some information? He had no identification on him.”

  “After I’ve seen him. Please, I need to see him.”

  “He’s in room 103. Up the stairs and along the corridor to the left. But—”

  She didn’t wait to hear anything else, just whirled around and headed along the corridor, taking the stairs two at a time. Halting in front of the door, she drew in a deep breath. Then she pushed it open.

  And her heart stopped. The room was empty of people, except for a shrouded figure on the hospital bed in the center of the room. He had a sheet pulled up over his face. A sob broke free of her throat and she forced herself closer.

  Get a grip. He’s a vampire.

  Her hands shook as she reached out and drew back the sheet. His eyes were closed, and his face was pale. There was no rise and fall of his chest. A cut ran across his forehead, but it was already knitting together.

  She laid her hand on his cheek.

  “Ryan.”

  He’d clearly shut down. Too much blood loss, at a guess. But she had to get him conscious if they had any hope of getting out of here. A wheelchair was parked in the corner of the room. If she could get him into that, then she could roll him out of here. But it would be much easier with some help.

  Without giving herself time to think, she raised her wrist to her mouth and bit down hard, breaking through the skin. She tasted the sharp metallic taint of blood in her mouth. Then she lowered her wrist to Ryan’s face, parted his lips with her other hand, and pressed her wrist to his mouth.

  “Come on,” she muttered.

  His eyes blinked open, wide with shock.

  Thank goodness.

  Then his hand moved under the sheet, coming out and grasping hers, holding it to his mouth. She could feel him drinking now, the pull of his lips as they sucked at her life force, getting stronger by the second.

  Enough—or she’d be the on
e in the wheelchair.

  His grip was strong now, his eyes glowing crimson.

  “Ryan, you have to stop.”

  No response.

  She gritted her teeth and tried to yank her hand away, but he was latched on tight. Closing her eyes, she concentrated, sent the ice down from her core to her fingertips. He dropped her hand and stared, his fangs still extended.

  “What the hell?”

  She scowled. “I did ask nicely.”

  She saw the moment it all came back to him, panic flaring in his eyes. “Oh God, Liam. I have to get out—”

  “Liam’s fine. I promise.”

  There was a movement at the door, making her turn slowly. Trouble.

  She’d been so focused on Ryan, she hadn’t sensed their approach. She really was crap at this bodyguard stuff. There were two of them. Both male and both big. And when she breathed in, her nostrils filled with the feral scent of wolf.

  It was too late to get out now.

  And Ryan was still too weak to be of much help. It looked like it was down to her. Time to earn her salary. Not that she was being paid a salary, at least that she knew of. It hadn’t been discussed. All the same, her reputation was at stake.

  Behind her, Ryan was struggling to rise. She turned back to him and patted his arm. “Leave this to me.”

  …

  Ryan rubbed at the place where she’d zapped him. His skin was icy cold.

  But the blood was singing through his system, lighting fires, waking him from the dead. He could feel his wounds healing, his flesh coming together.

  He wanted more. He needed more, like he had never needed anything in his life.

  His fangs were fully extended. And he curled his lip, reaching for the source of the sweet blood. She stepped out of reach and slapped his hand away. “Ryan, get a grip. We have company.”

  He glanced past her then, his gaze locking on two of the biggest goddamn werewolves he had ever seen. They stood in the open doorway. And all that was between them and him was a five-foot slip of a girl they could probably break in two with one snap of their fingers.