by Diana Seere
He sounded sad and far away. She wished he wouldn’t worry about her. As Jess’s energy flowed into her, her breathing became less painful.
But it would be much easier to stop breathing altogether. Life brought so much pain. Would it be so wrong to just let go?
Molly. I love you. Molly. I love you.
His words dragged her back to reality. She couldn’t leave Edward, of course she couldn’t. And she didn’t have to. With each moment, Jess was sealing punctures and fusing bone, cleansing her wounds, replenishing her blood. Molly was becoming stronger, her mind clearer.
She had to comfort him, reassure him. With tremendous effort, she opened her eyes. “Edward.” Although she could have spoken as he did, along the silent, psychic channel they shared, she wanted him to hear her voice and know she was alive. That it wasn’t a dream. “Don’t cry.”
“It’s hopeless, my dear,” Derry said. “We’re all weeping.” The large bear shifter—whose cheeks were indeed wet—was holding Jess in his lap. Jess, eyes half-open, held her hands out to both Molly and Asher, her palms pressing over their hearts. Asher lay on his back next to her, his chest rising and falling with his breath. The wolf aura was strong and alert, watching over him like a loyal pet.
Asher was alive. Thank God. Molly didn’t love the man, but his death would devastate her beloved and his family.
Sophia, curled up along Asher’s side and looking as if she, too, had been crying, stroked his hair and said, “You’ve saved Asher as well as yourself.”
Molly realized Sophia was talking about her. “No,” Molly said, struggling to lift her head. “It was Jess who saved us.”
Exhaling long and hard, Jess withdrew both of her hands and curled up like a kitten in the shelter of Derry’s massive body. “I’ve done what I can.” With another sigh, she closed her eyes.
Molly watched the aura fade around Jess from bright, shining gold to pale yellow. Her hands, the instruments of her healing, twinkled faintly. Before she’d fainted, Molly had been blinded by the glow around Jess’s entire body and had known it was a gift capable of great things if Jess had the strength. Derry, for all his faults, had plenty of that, and his Oneness with Jess could act as catalyst.
But how had Molly known that? The answers were there in her mind, like a dream she’d suddenly remembered days later. There was more to this than genetics. There was more to her than a drop of shifter blood—more to her, more to Jess, and more to Lilah.
Her sisters.
Her palm tingled like a limb waking from sleep. She rubbed it, feeling the crease that sliced across her palm like a river through a canyon.
Molly looked up at Edward, who was holding her head in his lap, leaking tears on her face. Smiling, she lifted a hand and wiped a drop off the tip of his nose. A streak of dried blood stretched from cheekbone to cheekbone. “Don’t cry,” she said again.
“I almost lost you.”
“Never,” she said.
He bent over and kissed her gently. And then, when her warm response demonstrated she was really, truly, very much improved, not so gently.
At that moment, a group of six men and women in charcoal-gray scrubs burst into the room with gurneys, medical equipment, and a tyrannical attitude. Gavin and Lilah were right behind them.
“Oh my God!” Lilah rushed over to Jess and Molly, obviously unsure who to check on first.
“We’re both fine,” Molly said, and she was. Jess had filled her with her aura, renewing her. Now she saw that it was the others who needed help. “But Edward, Sophia, and Derry are hurt. Webb turned into a monster. Tomas was already a monster. There was a huge fight. It was awful. Are these guys doctors? You have to hurry—”
The medics were already spreading out to take charge.
“Shh.” Edward lifted her up in his arms. “I’m fine. A little banged up but nothing terrible.”
“Don’t tell me it’s just a flesh wound,” Molly said. “I saw you get ripped apart.” She tenderly pressed at the gash on his flat belly, the wound raw and angry.
He smiled. “It was worse before, but whatever Jess did for you seemed to spill over into me, too. I’m all right.” He stroked her cheek. “How did you know? About her power to heal?”
“I just did.”
“You’re brilliant,” Edward said, eyes somber.
“No, that would be Jess. I’m just good at seeing things.” And at that moment, Molly saw that Gavin was bent over Asher’s prone figure, ear to his heart, hands frantically searching for broken bones and fatal wounds. A medic waited impatiently beside him, eager to take over.
“He’s all right, Gavin, he’s all right,” Derry said. “Thanks to Jess. Thanks to Molly. I would’ve sworn on our father’s grave he was dead. His body—no pulse—he was—” His voice broke off in a sob.
Lilah embraced both Jess and Derry at the same time, as if they were a unit, because Derry clearly intended never to release Jess ever again. “What’s the matter with Jess?”
“I’m fine,” Jess whispered. “Just tired.”
“Get over here and help my woman!” Derry shouted at the medics. They rushed over and, after Lilah convinced him it was necessary, took her out of Derry’s arms. They set up an IV and checked her vitals, assuring everyone she was fine. They attended to Sophia and, after another fuss, Derry. Asher continued to sleep, but his pulse was strong and sure. The medics provided them all with blankets to tide them over until Manny returned with clothing for everyone.
They had all survived. Well, except for Mason Webb. He was a stinking mass of lifeless gore on the carpet. And Tomas—
How had she forgotten about Tomas? She pulled out of Edward’s arms and looked around the destroyed room. She’d shot him. He should be here; he should be dead. She wanted to see him dead.
But then she finally remembered that he’d gotten away. The evil, two-faced coward had escaped.
A chill crept into her bones.
“I’ll find him,” Edward said. “I’ll find him, and I’ll kill him.”
Asher opened his eyes. His voice was strong, sure, unwavering. “Not if I find him first.”
Hours later, Gavin’s team of medics had patched up the motley crew, assuring their boss that everyone but Asher was fine and just needed rest, nourishment, and a check-in the next day with shifter-educated medical care providers.
Asher required in-patient care, and as the sedate black ambulance, disguised as a delivery van, pulled away from Derry’s building, Edward let out a sad sigh. Sophia had thrown on scrubs and climbed in the back of the ambulance van to watch over their eldest brother. A trained nurse in the British tradition, she’d always had an odd obsession about medicine.
For once, it came in handy.
“He’ll be fine,” Molly said, stifling a yawn. Her arm gingerly curled about Edward’s waist, avoiding the gauze bandage. Another half inch deep and he would have required surgery, the paramedic informed him, clucking at the uneven rip beneath his navel.
Edward sniffed, then cringed. His own scent offended him. Hopefully Derry’s apartment had a decent shower. One of the rare moments in his life he craved water.
“Absolutely right he will,” Gavin interrupted, eyes following the disappearing rear lights of the van. They walked back into the building, where workmen hurriedly fixed the damage. How Gavin managed to get a crew of twenty men and women on such short notice, all rushing about like organized ants in a colony, was beyond him.
Then again, as Molly had once said, the ultrawealthy could do anything.
He closed his eyes and caught himself, a vision of Asher’s broken body filling his mind’s eye.
No. Not quite everything.
“Speaking of fine,” Molly asked Gavin, her eyes drooping with exhaustion, “how is Samantha?”
“She’s—well, she’s fine,” he said with a sad, self-deprecating chuckle. “Better than Asher.”
“I’m glad she’s not hurt too badly. And I know Asher will be fine.” Gavin nodded once, acknowledging h
er words, quiet as he made the journey to find Derry’s place.
Burying her nose in Edward’s T-shirt-covered chest, Molly took a few deep breaths, which made Edward squirm slightly. He smelled sour and musky, like sweat and blood, the scent of a man who had just fought a mortal battle and won. A shower was what he wanted.
Not Molly’s olfactory inventory.
Her heart slowed down, matching his, until all her limbs, her head, her fingers and toes, nipples and clit, hummed in time.
The Beat. He felt it.
Felt it in her.
“You smell like life,” she whispered, stumbling slightly as they reached the lift. “Earthy and real.” Gavin seemed to know his way around the building, which gave Edward pause.
Of course he would. Derry, Sophia, and Gavin all lived in the Boston area. They had a life he knew nothing about.
And so did Molly.
By the time they reached Derry’s apartment, Edward was too tired to gawk. With soaring ceilings, exposed brick, and an ethereal light that reminded him of centuries-old European oil paintings, it was enough to view the loft with a sense of relief.
It had upholstered chairs. A coffeemaker. A kitchen with food. A bed.
And all the people he loved most in the world.
Minus one.
Gavin reached for Lilah and flattened his hand across her belly. “Are you hurt?”
“Me?” she shrieked. “Me?” Lilah gaped at him and looked at her sister, Jess, who was a tight ball of exhaustion in Derry’s arms on a purple velvet divan. Molly released Edward and picked up a thin cashmere shawl draped across a Morris chair, spreading it over the couple. Derry shot her a grateful look.
“I’ll make coffee,” Gavin muttered, his phone buzzing in the back pocket of tailored suit pants. “Decaf for you,” he added pointedly to Lilah.
“You’re worried about a little caffeine getting into our baby’s bloodstream when your entire family was almost killed just now?” She snorted. “Priorities.”
“The two are not mutually exclusive,” he replied stiffly.
“Men,” Molly muttered under her breath, then chuckled as she collapsed into a large chair, pulling Edward down with her. The feel of her body relaxing into his was sublime.
“Exactly,” Lilah agreed, standing over Jess with a furrowed brow. “Derry, what happened to her?”
He shrugged, turning to Molly for an explanation. “I don’t know. Asher was—I thought he was dead after what that thing did to him—”
“Thing?” Lilah and Gavin were in stereo.
Edward sighed, his ribs hitching as his torn flesh rebelled against the stretch.
“We need to tell the story from the start.”
Derry gave him a pleading look. “Could you? I don’t think I can quite make sense of it all.”
Edward kissed the crown of Molly’s head, his lips brushing against a piece of broken glass, barely missing a sharp point. He plucked it from her hair and set it down on a table, then looked around the room.
Bloody abrasions, bandages, and thick pads of gauze dotted his brothers and Molly like children at the summer fair in Montana after spending time in the face-painting chair.
Except the paint was blood.
And the cuts quite real.
“Tomas Nagy was behind the serum theft, Gavin. And Mason Webb kidnapped Molly. We found them in the safe room in the basement of this building. Derry, Asher, Sophia and I—and then Webb injected himself.”
“With my serum?”
“No—with something worse. Tomas and Webb must have altered it. Webb turned into an abomination. A supershifter. A combination of animals three times the size of Derry and with terrifying strength. Wings and six arms and paws and…” Edward shuddered.
Molly began to weep. Derry closed his eyes and stroked Jess’s hair, staring at her as if she were an apparition, a goddess, a fairy.
“My God,” Gavin said, sitting down hard on a kitchen stool, a shaky exhale emptying him. Lilah delivered coffee to everyone, then came to her man, hands on his shoulders, a steadying rock.
“He— It was awful. Asher, Derry, Sophia, and I couldn’t overcome him. And meanwhile, Tomas went after Molly.” Edward’s blood pounded at the memory, making his vision swim for a moment.
“Who shot the bastard,” Derry said in a voice full of admiration. “I hope you aimed for his testicles.”
Molly grunted out a laugh. “I’m not exactly a trained sniper, Derry. I’m lucky I got him at all.”
“But you did. We saw the trail of blood. You did damage, Molly.” Edward stroked the edges of a bandage on her face. “I am so sorry I couldn’t prevent all the hurt they caused you.”
“You did fine.” She patted his hand, her eyelids heavy. “You beat Webb. You got Tomas off me so I could get the gun. Tell the rest. Gavin and Lilah need to know. They need to know about Jess’s powers.”
Lilah’s head snapped up. “Powers? Jess’s powers?”
“She can heal. With her hands.” Edward marveled, his attention drawn to the lightly snoring figure in Derry’s arms. “Molly told her to bring Asher back from the dead. And she did.”
“Not quite,” Molly argued. “He wasn’t gone yet. Close though. So close.” She smiled, eyes lighting up with pride. “And Jess did it. She used her One. She used love to save Asher.”
Derry groaned, a sound of incredulity. “I knew I was good in bed, but now it turns out my love can cure a mortal wound?” He puffed up.
“Don’t get a big head, big guy,” said a soft, sleepy voice. Jess turned in his lap and snuggled in. “Your ego’s big enough.”
“But not as big as my—”
Gavin cleared his throat pointedly as Edward hid his smile in his coffee cup. “Could you finish telling us all about this horrible threat we need to address now? Other than the horrible threat of Derry’s arrogance.”
“Webb’s dead,” Edward declared bluntly. “The serum killed him.”
The jocular mood dissolved.
“I thought you said the serum turned him into a supershifter?” Gavin asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Both. It did both. He turned into a supershifter, then a twitching pile of oozing flesh and bones.”
Lilah made a strange gagging noise and struggled to control her throat muscles. Regret hit Edward hard.
“Perhaps we should talk about this later?”
“No,” Lilah said with a slow deliberation. “No. I am fine. Better than any of you,” she added, eyebrows raised, taking in the injuries.
“So Webb’s not a threat any longer, but Tomas got away?” Gavin asked.
“Yes.”
“Which means we can’t know the status of the serum. Someone obviously has expanded on it and turned it into a weapon. Just as Asher feared,” Gavin said under his breath.
“Yes,” Edward confirmed.
“So I can read the book and shift,” Lilah mused, looking at each of them. “Molly can see who is a shifter and who isn’t. And Jess can heal with her hands.”
“As long as she’s touching Derry, yes,” Molly confirmed.
The room went silent.
Except for the Beat, which grew louder the longer they sat in peace. Edward suspected that the proximity of the Novo Club had cemented his bond with Molly, blending them into One, finishing the process that had begun the first night they’d kissed at the gallery when Derry had finally claimed Jess as his mate.
He wondered who would be next, if either Sophia or Asher could be so lucky. He had the oddest suspicion that the Beat would only challenge one new pair at a time to bring together. Now that he and Molly were settled…
Gavin broke the blissful, meditative space. “I need to go back to the Novo Club. Interview Miklos, Gregor, and Florence. See who else Tomas might be working with.” He straightened his spine. “I’m the eldest. I’ll fill in until Asher has healed.”
A cord of alarm shot through Edward. “You think Tomas wasn’t alone?”
“He obviously found We
bb. Webb hated me. Who else did Tomas find who has a grudge against members of our family.”
“I am universally loved,” Derry said. “No enemies.”
Jess punched him lightly and giggled.
“Ah. My sleeping beauty awakens.” He kissed her cheek as Jess sat up and stole his coffee cup, drinking liberally.
Molly yawned, shaking her head slightly, another shard of glass littering Edward’s arm.
He stood, carefully pulling her up. “You have glass in your hair, my dear.” He made eye contact with Derry. “Your guest room?”
Derry pointed down the hall. “Forgive my manners but help yourself.”
“You sound like something out of Downton Abbey,” Lilah cracked. “You’re family! Don’t even bother using the guest towels, Edward.”
“What are guest towels?” Gavin asked, perplexed.
Edward guided Molly down the hall, her body limp and exhausted as she leaned on him fully, with complete trust. In the bathroom he found the glass-walled shower and turned on the hot water, steam filling the space quickly. Moving her hands away from her clothing, he carefully undressed her, planting a kiss on each bare shoulder.
Steam obscured his view of her, the mist showing an eyebrow, a cheekbone, a top lip shaped like a rose petal.
“Edward. You saved me,” she said, her voice weak but her intent strong.
“I love you, Molly.”
She tugged at his shirt. “Not fair. I’m naked. You’re not.”
“I’m not looking for sex, my dear. Please know that.”
“I don’t want sex. I want you.”
Obliging, he removed his shirt, stepping out of the borrowed clothes that Gavin’s cleanup crew had delivered, until he was naked and in the shower with her, careful to avoid getting his abdominal bandage wet. She shivered before him, the stress and horror of her kidnapping weeping from her eyes, her throat, in the shake of her muscles, in the tremor of her body that vibrated.
She needed to cleanse her body, detoxify her pores, her cells, her memories of the awful curse of experience.
And by God, he would be right here with her, every drop of the way.
“Shampoo my hair,” she whispered, handing him the bottle, a fruity concoction that seemed too bright, too happy under the circumstances. As he lathered her thick locks, he was careful to feel for glass shrapnel, even as she silently cried beneath his tender ministrations. He rinsed, then lathered once more, this time massaging her scalp as if he were rubbing out all her pain, prying her anguish from her skin, moving it to tributaries and wastewaters where it would be taken away, never to be seen again.