Sam’s eyes flashed with hurt and pain and desperation. It was confusing because none of it was followed up by fear. Why the hell wasn’t she afraid? Brittany, at least, had the good sense to watch me warily, the gun never wavering from its perfect aim at my chest.
My fists tightened in impatience. I should have gone with my first inclination to wait until she was asleep and do it then. Watching her, standing this close to her in a house that smelled like nothing but her, was confusing. The strange ache in my chest was back. And I quite couldn’t remember what the plan had been now. Or why I’d agreed to do it in the first place.
I was fairly certain Indra had tricked me into agreeing. And that she’d used some sort of spell with that damned blood in order to do it.
Fucking hell.
“Alex, I mean it. What Indra did to you—her magic—it changed you. Do you remember what Sushna said when we went to see her?” Sam asked.
I didn’t answer because recalling any shared memory between Sam and I right now was only making this harder. I didn’t want to be reminded of any sort of connection to the girl I was about to murder.
“Sushna’s magic is in giving. Giving pain,” Sam said. “And mine is in taking. I know that now. But Indra’s magic isn’t like mine. You told me that yourself, remember?”
“What are you saying? Indra’s magic is just like Sushna’s?” I asked wryly, making it clear I didn’t buy her theory.
But Sam didn’t back down. “You felt something inside you when she was done, didn’t you? I bet you feel it inside you right now.”
Sam stepped closer. I took a step back.
“Sam, get the hell away from that asshole,” Brittany called sharply.
Sam ignored her. “Indra didn’t just take away the venom. She pushed it out of you when she gave you her magic. And it crowded out your ability to feel anything. It crowded out you, Alex.”
I didn’t bother to argue. It wouldn’t change anything and besides, she was right. There was something inside me. Something dark and ugly and it felt a hell of a lot like the Indra I knew lay underneath her human mask.
But Sam didn’t need my confirmation. She already knew. And right now, she was watching me with eyes that were filled with compassion and caring and … love.
Fuck me.
This wasn’t how killing someone worked.
“I don’t care,” I said, which pretty much summed up everything she was saying as true in the most petulant way possible.
Sam gave me a pointed dip of her chin. “That’s my point.” And then her expression softened and she was again closing the distance between us. Completely unafraid or unconcerned that I could kill her with my bare hands probably faster than Brittany could get a clear shot on me. Especially now with Sam’s body between us.
Sam’s body…
“I can help you,” Sam whispered and it cleared my head of the lustful thoughts distracting me. I remembered I didn’t want her help.
“No,” I said firmly.
Sam’s brows rose. “Why not?” she challenged quickly. As if she’d anticipated my answer. “If you don’t care about me, why does it matter whether I help or not?”
I faltered.
She had a point. If I didn’t care about her…
I mean, I didn’t… right?
“Sam, I mean it. Get away from him,” Brittany called again, louder this time.
But Sam didn’t move.
Indra’s voice rang in my head, taunting me. Challenging me. Ordering me. I scowled. “You’re making this a lot harder than it has to be,” I said.
And to prove my point, I grabbed Sam by the wrist and spun her around, wrapping my arm around her as I hugged her back tightly to the front of my body. She struggled but I wrapped my other arm around her and then locked my legs around her ankles, trapping her in the circle of my arms.
“Alex, you don’t have to do this,” Sam said and finally, nerves showed through in her voice. It was the closest to fear I’d seen from her so far. But her body pressing warmly against mine, fitting perfectly against me, was causing a reaction I hadn’t bargained for.
I hardened against the soft curve of her ass. When she stopped struggling, I knew it hadn’t gone unnoticed. In fact, she pressed in harder, rubbing slightly as if to encourage it.
I groaned softly.
This was literally the worst attempted murder I’d ever committed. I was practically seducing myself and using Sam to do it.
Brittany’s hand tightened on the gun. She still pointed it but she looked put off as the barrel was aimed somewhere between my shoulder and Sam’s chest. “Sam, I need you to stay completely still,” Brittany said calmly.
Sam stiffened in my arms. “Brittany,” she said in a warning tone. And then in a much softer voice, she half-turned and whispered, “See? I know you care. The evidence is in your own body’s reaction to me.”
“Physical lust is not the same as caring,” I shot back.
“We were a hell of a lot more than just physical lust,” she said and finally, her temper leaked into her words.
Her body was stiff against mine, but it wasn’t fear. She was livid. And picturing the look on her face right now only made my erection worse.
“Sam, I mean it,” Brittany said. “Just hang on. Help is on the way.”
Her words didn’t bother me. They were empty and we both knew it. To drive it home, I chuckled. “If only that were true,” I said. “But your boys are off doing errands and the recon team is currently dealing with a feral werewolf up the block. I doubt they saw me come in.”
Brittany’s face registered the dismay of my news.
Sam ignored it. “Alex, I need you to know something,” she said and her hands sought mine as she pressed herself against me willingly now. “I care about you. Enough for both of us right now. And I am not giving up on you. I am going to help you whether you want it or not.”
Her hand closed over my wrist and squeezed tightly. The moment she touched me I felt it—something was shoving at the darkness inside me. And neither one seemed to be very happy about the presence of the other. I let go of Sam with one hand and brought it to my temples, pressing my fingertips to my head as a pain exploded behind my eyes.
“Fuck!” I almost doubled over but managed to hold it together—and hold on to Sam. Although, I was tempted to let her go and end this pain. But that would also mean Brittany getting her shot in and that would be even worse.
So I held on blindly. It didn’t matter, though, because it was Sam who was holding onto me now. The magic inside me clung to the walls of my mind, like a tantrum tug of war with its feet being yanked and its fingers digging in for dear life.
Sam’s body was hot, radiating with the effort it took to remove whatever had taken hold inside me. I glanced at her before and saw a layer of sweat coated her skin, her long, dark hair matted to her neck. My own shoulders rose and fell against her back in a rhythm created by the exaggerated rise and fall of her heavy breaths.
“It’s not going to…” I began but she made a sound as if in pain and I went silent.
Suddenly, the thought of Sam hurting mattered. Especially if she was hurting because of me.
The price.
The overriding need to protect her rose up inside me, eclipsing everything. Indra no longer mattered and neither did her stupid orders to kill. Brittany, the gun, the recon team I knew was probably on its way; none of them were nearly as important as protecting Sam.
Falling under Indra’s little spell had been my price for healing. That was something I’d made my peace with already. What I hadn’t realized all along was why she’d chosen me. But I knew. In this moment, standing here with orders I knew damn well I wouldn’t have been able to carry out, I knew. Indra had wanted this. She’d wanted me to come here and she’d wanted Sam to try to help me. But it wasn’t happening. Not while I had breath. Fuck feelings. I didn’t need those. Sam wasn’t a feeling. She was part of me. She was in my very blood and cells and everything else that made
me who I was.
Subjecting Sam to the same fate was not something I was willing to do—feelings or not. Sam was mine. And I’d be damned if I let her go to someone like Indra.
“Sam,” I rasped. “You can’t go in there. She wants you to. She’ll do to you what she—”
“Alex, she’s bleeding!” Brittany dropped the gun and rushed forward, her arms coming out to catch Sam just as she slumped and almost toppled face-first.
That’s when I realized I wasn’t holding Sam at all anymore. She’d been holding me. The moment the touch was broken, my headache dissipated and she came to, gasping for air and reaching for me. Blood seeped from her nose and dripped from her palm down her wrist. It took me a moment to realize what had caused the wound on her hand. The glass she’d snatched from me had shattered in her grip and shards of glass protruded from her skin. I shrank away, unwilling to give it a round two.
Not after that.
Not now that I knew what Indra really wanted from me.
“Sam, you can’t. Indra set this up,” I said, rushing my words because now that I had no intention of killing Sam, I could feel our minutes running out. RJ and the others would be here soon.
If I was lucky, that’s all it would be. If Breck showed up—
“What do you mean?” Brittany asked.
Sam was still breathing heavily, slumped against the wall and using Brittany to lean on. The gun sat forgotten on the kitchen counter.
“I mean she sent me here with orders to kill Sam, but she knew I wouldn’t be able to do it. She also knew Sam wouldn’t be able to resist trying to heal me.” I tapped my head with my palm. “Whatever she put in here, I’m not sure Sam can beat it. And if Sam takes it from me… I don’t know what it will do to her.”
“It’s my price to pay,” Sam said, her gaze furious and beautiful on mine. Even with blood on her face and her hair sweaty and matted to her throat, I wanted her. I wanted to save her and love her and feel things for her; I wanted to make her feel everything for me. I faltered, overcome at her dark eyes so full of passion for me. Maybe my feels weren’t gone after all.
“Sam, this isn’t about a price,” I said in exasperation. I dropped to my knees and gently smoothed her hair off her cheeks. “Indra used me to set a trap. She—”
Over Sam’s shoulder, Brittany’s expression morphed into one of muted horror. I shot to my feet, my head whipping to the kitchen window, and I caught sight of the reflection of the figure behind me a split second before he charged.
I hadn’t even heard the front door open—which is how I knew exactly who it was that had come for me.
I whirled but not fast enough. Or maybe I just didn’t want Sam to get thrown between us and accidentally injured. She was still too close, slumped from exhaustion as she used her shirt to dab at her bleeding nose. I doubted she could move quickly now, and I wasn’t taking any chances.
With a grunt, I shoved off my feet and threw myself into the narrow hallway that lay in the opposite direction of the girls. I made it three steps before Sam cried out—shock, protest. It was all there. I hesitated, unsure whether there was even an exit this way, but in the end it didn’t matter. He was faster.
A hand closed over my shoulder and I stumbled, reaching for the doorframe that led into the tiny bathroom. I used it for support but even still, my knees sagged. With my determination gone, apparently so were my reflexes.
My attacker wasn’t so unlucky.
He caught my collar, yanking me upright before I could go tumbling into the porcelain sink. I caught sight of his face for only a split second—wild blue eyes that held violence and the intention of keeping his promise—before something glinted underneath the harsh light.
“Breck, you don’t have to—”
My words were cut short as the knife slid into my ribs.
Breck stared down at me in grim satisfaction. A trace of regret marred his expression but otherwise, he was stoic as he watched my expression contort from the sudden pain.
Someone’s hand landed on his shoulder, shaking him from behind. Softly at first but when he didn’t turn or loosen his grip on my collar, the hand shook him harder and harder until I shook too.
I opened my mouth to let out a noise indicative of the pain still buried in my stomach. My entire torso was already on fire but the shaking only served to irritate the wound.
Breck yanked his knife free and as the burning turned to searing heat and ripping pain, I finally found my voice and cried out. Breck let go of me and I crumpled willingly. My knees probably could have locked and kept me upright, but it wasn’t worth the effort and I needed my energy to grit my teeth and keep from screaming like a fucking newborn.
I chanced a quick look down, uninterested in the yelling going on in the hallway. Sam was practically beside herself, screaming at Breck in a reunion I knew he’d been dreading. A red stain was seeping from the underside of my gray shirt, turning the fabric black. Even with the shirt to soak it up, I could feel it pooling and running down my belly until it hit the waistline of my pants.
Fuck me. The pain was horrible.
The knife had undoubtedly hit an artery. Not my heart. That would have been too easy. But I knew anatomy—especially when it came to mortal wounding—and this kind of stabbing was precise. Intentional. I had five minutes. Maybe six.
Stars and darkness swam in front of my eyes. I blinked it all away, wondering why I was bothering to prolong my fate. I didn’t care about dying… did I? Out in the hall, Sam was crying openly. Breck stared back at me, unflinching as he held Sam at bay. She struggled against him, trying to get to me. They exchanged words I couldn’t hear over the roaring in my ears that was quickly ushering in my death. Something like, “If he dies now, I will never, ever forgive you.”
For the first time, Breck’s expression reflected uncertainty.
Sam shoved past him and fell to her knees beside me. Her tears had left her cheeks wet. She was sad and beautiful and begging to be touched. I tried lifting my arm but then let it fall again when a sharp pain stabbed at my ribs.
“Alex,” Sam cried as tears fell from her chin on to my pants. She grabbed my hand in hers. With the other, she pressed lightly against my wound, biting her lip in a desperate sort of concentration.
“It’s too late, kid,” I rasped. “He hit the bull’s eye.”
And I couldn’t help the admiration I felt at knowing Breck had acted so careless in his rage and yet his knife had stabbed so precisely, that with one quick incision, I was done. Bleeding out on a bathroom floor.
If I’d ever doubted that Breck Winters was a monster, I knew it now. And in another life, I could have high-fived him for it. But not now. Not today. This life… it was over. Too tired and hurt and beaten to care, I closed my eyes, sighing as the darkness came to claim me.
Chapter Twenty
Sam
Alex’s aura was gross. I couldn’t say if it was the worst out there since I hadn’t seen many in my brief practice of healing magic, but it wasn’t pretty. That was for sure. It wavered in and out like a shorted bulb, the colors blinking and pulsing in varying shades from gray to black to brown and even a weird and disgusting yellow color. Like used bong water or maybe an illegal dump site for waste. Slipping toward it, even with my mind and not my physical hands, felt dirty—and not in a good way.
But none of that slowed me down or even caused hesitation. Urgency and desperation and terror that I was too late sent me hurrying into meditation. With my hands on Alex—one hand squeezing his and the other pressing against the knife wound Breck had given him—I shut my eyes and spurred myself into the fastest healing session I’d done thus far.
Behind me, Breck and Brittany were both quiet but my awareness of their presence quickly vanished as the meditation took hold and I was sent careening into the muck that coated Alex’s waning life force.
It was a trap.
I’d heard him say as much and I knew it now as I fell right into it, unable to pull back. Like quicksand, the
moment my energy touched it, I knew it had me and it wasn’t going to let me go.
I either conquered the Trojan horse Indra had left for me here or I would die trying. And then Alex would die too. Even as I thought it, my heart rippled with pain and my body rejected the idea. That wasn’t going to happen, no matter what. It didn’t even matter that he’d come here with orders—and the intention—to kill me. In the end, he’d fought it and changed his mind. Changed his heart. Even if Breck hadn’t showed up—a sight I still couldn’t quite believe—I knew Alex wouldn’t have hurt me.
And now, it was up to me. We’d come full circle because here he was, needing me to save him—to heal him—after all. It made my heart thud heavily against my chest. My ribs ached and my lungs tightened and it was all I could do to breathe and stay rooted in his life force that was fading fast. Losing myself wasn’t nearly as terrifying as failing to save Alex. I’d been right before. About destiny. About him. Since that night in my kitchen, I’d known it. I was meant to save this boy. And not just by healing his physical wounds, although that was becoming a normal thing, apparently. But real healing. I was meant to heal his heart. And I wasn’t going to give up until I’d done it.
With that in mind, I gritted my teeth until my jaw ached and forged ahead. The magic inside me pulsed and stretched against the inside of my skin. I used it to fuel me, and like Alice down the rabbit hole, I plunged into the depths of the disgusting magical presence Alex’s entire psyche seemed to be infected with.
Within seconds, everything hurt.
I had no idea how long I was “under” but that was the best word to describe it. A feeling like anesthesia came over me—except without the benefit of dulling the pain. My thoughts became lethargic and progress slowed. Wading through the dark magic that coated every single inch of Alex’s aura really was like navigating quicksand. The longer I stayed, the more entrenched I became. God, it fucking hurt.
Esperance: (New Adult Paranormal Romance) (Heart Lines Series Book 3) Page 18