by Kim Faulks
She lunged forward. The bird’s body hit the ground with a soft thud. Claws scratched at her. Its beak sharp, drawing flesh and blood, for it would repay in kind. She dug her fingers into the soft plumage, gripped the bird’s neck and squeezed. She felt the crunch of tiny bones under her grip and then she was ripping flesh until the creature’s blood coated her fingers. The answers were there, written in blood on the filthy floor. She mouthed the words of the Ancient language while its symbols painted the floor in gore, showing her the way.
At first there was panic. Her heart fluttered and the feeling of being watched invaded and then faded before it had a chance to take hold. A vision of the rogue witch, Sarah, filled her mind. Her face stared up at her from the floor. Her perfection was marred and bloodied, lip swollen, her eye almost shut. She wrenched Sarah’s head back, exposing her throat, and growled. “Good bye, Sarah.”
She was yanked from the vision so hard, pain ripped through her head and chest. Feathers glistened, thick with blood that pooled on the floor. It hurt to breathe, hurt to think, and yet her mind refused to loosen its grasp on Sarah. The Ancient was showing her the way. Leading her straight to temptation and the hell she would unleash with it. Once Sarah knew she was alive it would be all or nothing… all or nothing…. All. Or. Nothing.
Her legs trembled when she climbed to her feet. Crow’s blood coated her hands, leaving a bloody print as she held onto the doorway before she made her way out of the church. The wooden boards squealed as she pushed through. She paused and scanned the street before stepping out. The day was early and bright. Warm summer days meant an influx of the naïve. Winters kept humans in doors, huddled next to their fireplaces safe and sound. Naïve, the name fits them perfectly. The war to end all wars was on their doorstep and they had no idea it was coming.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Having Helaine here was a bad idea. A very bad idea. She smiled and laughed with the others, joining in the banter as though she'd always been part of their family. But she wasn't, and the longer he stood staring at her, the more he felt the divide.
Feeling like the odd one out, Creed left them and shouldered his way past Loc to the hallway. There was a war inside him, heart versus gut, and he had a feeling neither would win. His thoughts would continue to torment him for as long as she was around. Helaine was the conjurer of the darkness, of deception, calling forth a need in him that could never be eased, but not with her—never with her.
The walls closed in as he headed toward his bedroom. The massive warehouse felt too confining. He passed Fate's room and walked the five steps to his own at the end of the hall. Nights would be torture, when he had time to think... time to think about her. Energy raced along his skin like a lover's breath. His body came alive. He stepped inside his room and closed the door. He had to get rid of this desire. He needed to take the edge off or he’d go mad.
I could run....
With a sinking feeling, he knew the need would still be there, haunting him, lingering like a sickness. He paced the floor in his room, searching for the way free. She was so fucking close. With this thought, Helaine filled his mind.
Her haunted smile had left a mark on him, one he knew would never wash off. His steps became a blur, back and forward... back and forward. Sweat broke out on his brow.
Think of something else, anything else. Think of the Corrupt, of the war that's coming. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the woman out of his mind.
His desire coiled tight, twisting, winding through his blood like dark ink. The wall stopped him. He stilled, his breaths coming hard and fast and then fumbled, wrenching free the tie around his waist. Creed reached down, taking his cock in hand. His shaft was thick, ready for the feel of flesh—just not his own. This would have to do. This was all he could control.
Desire lashed his body as he stroked. He bowed his back and hissed as images of her filled his mind. Powerful and seductive, Helaine came to him. I can never escape. He could feel her body as he worked his own. In his mind, he gripped her throat and ran his thumb down the line of a tender vein. He was in there somewhere, racing through her body like a drug—just as she did in his.
The wall took the brunt of each slow thrust inside his mind. Creed didn't just want sex. He wanted more. Darkness hid inside him. A need left unfulfilled for all this time.
No, I can't.
His hand slowed and for one weak moment, he considered the hordes of naïve that begged him in seedy alleys and darkened corners of whatever nightclub he found himself in. Fucking them would be easier, it'd be better than this... than imagining her.
A growl echoed through his chest. His grip tightened. I want you... I want to... his body shuddered as he inhaled the sweet scent of jasmine. He jerked harder, letting loose a whimper as he gripped his cock and worked his body until all his thoughts blurred into one.
Creed, she whispered in his mind, piercing his armor with words alone. He shuddered and came. His seed erupted against the wall, as impotent as a drop of rain. A guttural sound filled the room as he left her and came back to reality.
He was the closest thing to Ares, God of War, and here he was rendered weak and helpless by a woman. Creed grappled with his pants, jerking the string together as guilt washed over him.
His weakness would be sleeping under his roof tonight. She would be eating at his table and taking comfort in his family while he hid in the corners, unable to take his eyes off her. He staggered on weak knees to his books, staring at the broken spines and open pages. Somewhere in here was the answer to everything, it just wouldn’t be the answer he wanted. He lashed out, knocking the books to the ground. They wouldn't help him now. Nothing would.
A knock at the door stilled his anger. "Yes?"
"Just checking to see that you're okay?" Nile's voice echoed from behind the door.
His response was sharper than he intended. "I'm fine."
"Listen... can I come in? It's awkward, standing here, talking to a door."
Creed spun and stalked to the doorway. He jerked the handle. Dark-lined eyes peered at him through the crack. In the last two hundred years they'd never been awkward, until now.
Niles took a single step into the room. "That woman? Helaine, she's really something, eh?"
Creed clenched his jaw, waiting for his brother to get to the damn point.
Nile's forehead creased. "Are you okay?"
He swallowed the thick air. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"
His brother shook his head, answering more slowly than normal. "No reason, except you're acting really strange. First you race in and save this woman like some damn knight in shining amour. Then you bring her back to our home and the two of you are sucking face in the kitchen like you’re the only two people in the world. Now you’re sulking in your room like you don't want her here. I mean, she's really great and—"
Heat ripped through him, impaling him like a stake. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "And, Nile?" He growled, wrenching open the door wider. He took one step forward, then another. The Egyptian stumbled backward until his spine hit the wall. "You want to say something here?"
Nile lifted his hands in defeat. Those lined eyes were a little wider now. "Whoa, Creed. I was just gonna say that... that...."
He knew what his brother was going to say. Knew the words before they were uttered. It felt like Niles took a sledgehammer to his chest in response.
Nile's voice sounded far away, drowned out by the thunder in Creed’s heart. "I was going to say that I kinda like her, and if you got no plans, I'd like to make her mine."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Helaine tried to pretend she didn't see Creed leave. She smiled and laughed, but the weighted feeling in her stomach remained. It was obvious he didn't want her here. Everyone else acted like they hadn't noticed, but when Nile slipped away from the rest of the group after him, she knew that'd been a lie. She shook her head. "Maybe this was a bad idea?"
Fate held up an imperious hand. "No. Regardless of what any
of us think, for you, this is the safest option and that's all you need to be concerned about. Until we can understand what's going on here, you need to stay with us."
The woman pulled no punches. The worst thing was, Helaine couldn’t argue with her logic. For now, this was the safest place for her. "You're right."
"Of course I am! Besides, where else would you get entertainment such as this?" she muttered, watching Heath advance with a plate.
"Would you like an apricot Danish?"
Helaine smiled, looking down at his offering. The stacked column of glazed puff pastry wobbled. A low moan echoed from her stomach. She'd forgotten the last time she ate. "Did you make these?"
His cheeks puffed as he smiled. "Yeah."
"They look delicious, Heath." Helaine reached for the top pastry. The first bite was heaven, sweet and flaky. She couldn't help but moan with delight. "Oh, my god."
Heath's eyes lit with pleasure. He backed up slowly. "I can cook for you, anything you like. Just name it...."
She couldn't help but laugh. "No, this is fine, really. I appreciate everything you've all done for me and it must be near midnight." Heath smiled, glowing under her praise. She felt a surge of affection. Claire had been her only friend. The only one who stood by her side when her life fell apart. Now, she was gone. Helaine's smile faded.
"Right. Well, let's get you settled and then I’m off with some of the boys. Creed seems to think the demon that attacked him was stronger than the others, so we’re on another scouting mission."
Fate took off toward a doorway. Helaine followed, her thoughts filled with betrayal. There had to be something she could do, some place she could search, someone she could talk to. Maybe Mark could help? She shoved the thought from her mind. No. Not him. She'd find another way.
The sound of an argument echoed from the hallway as she followed Fate up the stairs. Helaine caught Nile's accent. There was a thump, a scuffle, and it wasn't until she hit the top stair that she realized what was happening.
Creed pinned Nile against the wall. He stood over the Egyptian, their breaths heaving like blasts from a furnace.
Fate stopped suddenly. "Ah, what's going on, guys?"
Nile shoved Creed away and then smoothed his shirt. "Why don't you ask him?"
Something was definitely off here. Electricity danced across Helaine's skin. A guttural growl that didn't sound entirely human reverberated around her as the two men faced off. Moments ago they'd been laughing, joking. Now they were enemies? Creed broke the gaze, wrenching his head toward Fate and barking, "If she's going to sleep here, then you better get a lock for the door. It seems she's gonna need to keep out more than just the Corrupt."
Something wet hit her palm and she jumped. Holy had followed her, his gaze fixed on her, only breaking away when Nile stormed past them. She stepped to the side, following him with her gaze as he stomped down the stairs. Not once did he look at her, but Creed's glare felt like the harsh midday sun. Had her kiss been that bad? He raked his hair back and stared.
"Okay, this is a little awkward," Fate muttered and like that, the connection she felt to Creed was lost.
The puzzling man cleared the hallway in two strides, slamming the bedroom door behind him. Fate turned to look at her. The scarred skin of her forehead puckered as she raised her brows. "There's way too much testosterone here. You'd think they'd never seen a damn woman before." She shrugged. "Anyway, they're men. They fight, they move on. Let me show you around."
Fate brushed off the altercation, but Helaine wasn't convinced. She shot a sideways glance at Creed's closed door. She needed answers and to find Claire. Whether Creed liked it or not, she was here to stay. Fate cleared her throat, drawing her focus. She realized that while she’d been thinking of Creed, Fate had brought her into a room. The big space was empty, except for a queen bed and a set of old drawers. Dust coated the floor and dirt on the windows muted the sunlight.
"I don't really stay here anyway." Fate gestured to the bed. "I usually sleep in the back room."
Helaine turned. "What’s there?"
Fate flinched. "Just a room in the back. Some of us... ah, stay there."
It felt strange to see the self-assured woman flounder like a fish out of water, shuffling from one foot to the other. Unsure how to respond, Helaine surveyed the room. "Thank you for letting me stay here. I want you to kick me out if I get to be too much, okay?"
There was no answer. She glanced over her shoulder, but the room was empty. Fate had left without her realizing. It occurred to her they all did. Witches. Something I'll have to get used to. The bed looked neatly-made. She crossed the room and touched the faded blue quilt. Her fingers sank into the soft surface. The bed called to her. Maybe when she woke, this would all be gone, like one long bad dream. She pulled back the covers and slid in between the sheets. One face stared back at her as she closed her eyes, Creed’s haunting gaze stayed with her as the world slipped away.
She woke to distant chatter, yawned and wiped the sleep from her eyes. In the daylight streaks of grime covered the window, distorting the view. Helaine threw back the covers and climbed from the bed, making her way to the window. She ran her fingers down the pane and the view cleared in the resulting streak. Cobwebs and dead flies filled the corners. She pulled away and wiped her hand on the back of her jeans. Movement outside drew her gaze.
She pressed her forehead against the glass, straining to see the back of two police cars. That must be the alley I escaped into. The rattle of a can and a low moan of a homeless person returned from a memory. She pressed harder against the window as her chest ached. The unmistakable sound of a closing door dragged her attention away from the sight. Heavy steps rebounded from the hallway, moving fast.
She turned from the window and rushed for the door. Her steps mirrored her heart as she raced down the stairs and along the hall. Voices rang from the kitchen. Heath wiped his hands on a towel, a confused expression on his face. "Hey, Helaine, what's going on?"
"I don't know. The police are here. I think they've found Claire."
Creed's voice made her slow. "No, you can't come in. Not unless you have a warrant."
A warrant? An unfamiliar voice drifted from the doorway. Helaine stopped at the edge of the entrance, straining to hear. Creed's body blocked her view. The voice came again. The sound of her pulse thundered inside her head. She stepped into the doorway and caught a glimpse of dark hair and a crisp white shirt. Something inside her tightened. The grip squeezed the air from her lungs. It was too late for her to stop. Too late to go back. Creed caught sight of her and turned. But it wasn't Creed she focused on. It wasn't Creed who let loose the beasts inside.
The detective in the doorway seized her in his darkened stare. She caught the flicker of surprise. "Helaine?" the visitor muttered. "What the fuck are you doing in a place like this?"
"Mark." The sound of his name struck her chest like an empty chord.
Her ex-fiancée pushed past Creed, his eyes bleak like a winter storm. It wasn't so long ago she'd fallen for those eyes. Once so warm, so loving, but not now. She stumbled backward, reaching for the wall. Her fingers skimmed rough brick, but the touch was fleeting. Mark gripped her arm. His fingers dug into her flesh, wrenching her forward. He snarled. "What the fuck are you doing in a goddamn sex club?"
Helaine tried to answer, but her mind was locked on the man who'd savaged her heart and ripped her life away. The fist in her chest was unrelenting, pounding her fragile heart.
"I... I...." She couldn't grasp what he was saying. His lips moved, but the meaning was lost. Pain shot through her arm, stabbing, grinding. A spark flared in her heart, forcing her gaze to slip past Mark, to Creed.
Their gazes met. In his, there was no anger, no blame.
He moved fast, slapping his hand on Mark’s shoulder. "Take your damn hands off her." Mark dropped her arm. Creed tightened his grip on Mark, judging from the man’s wince. Then, he let go and wedged his body between her and Mark. "Like I said, detective, you're
not welcome here. Not without a warrant.”
"Get the fuck out of my way." Mark growled. Creed took a sudden step to the side, blocking him when Mark tried to move around Creed. She could hear Holy growling behind her, the sound sent shivers racing along her skin.
"Helaine, for fuck’s sake. Come outside with me." Mark’s demanding tone was one she despised and Holy gave one deep bark.
"She doesn't have to go anywhere," Creed snapped, echoing the hound.
She focused on Creed's back, on the ripple of muscles along his shoulders and the way he held his hands by his side. It was a deadly stance, as though he was ready for a clash of fists where brute strength and skill won. Except with her, he seemed to be either running away or coming to her rescue. This thought was like a flare in her chest, lighting the way and giving her the strength she needed.
Her voice was filled with emotion she couldn’t suppress. "I'm staying here, Mark. Say what you need to say and leave."
"For god’s sake. You're not well, Helaine. First a uniformed officer from the North Shore station calls to say your place has been broken into, but when he goes to check it out, there’s not a single thing out of place. Says you’re hysterical. Then, this morning, Claire calls. She says the same thing. She’s worried about you. Hell, I'm worried about you. I need to take you back to the hospital and get your medication checked. They can get you the help you need."
The fire in her heart wavered. Mark always made her feel weak. Once they got together, she always seemed to second-guess herself. Was she sick? Did she need help? Maybe... may—