She would go home to Arkadia, she told herself as she rebraided her hair. As soon as Brant returned safely to Aukrabah.
He had nearly died because of her, had risked his life to save her own. She couldn’t repay him by running off when he could be in danger. She wouldn’t.
The sound of footfalls hurrying down the hall outside the bathroom caught Syrina’s attention. She cracked the door open in time to see Oz rushing by with weapons in hand. He lifted the back of his shirt and tucked them into his pants.
Syrina slipped into the hall and made her way down the corridor toward the bow of the yacht.
She could see Brant’s back as he stood at the railing with a strange-looking contraption resting against his eyes.
Oz sidled up next to him and said something Syrina couldn’t hear.
She crept closer until she could make out a boat idling in the distance.
That must have been the engine sound she and Brant heard when she’d emerged from the water.
Oz’s shoulders appeared as tense as Brant’s as the boat began to inch closer.
Syrina noticed a human male step into view, his arm waving in a friendly manner.
Still Brant and Oz remained tense and alert.
The man had no weapons on him that Syrina could see, neither did the elder female that trailed up beside him. They both appeared harmless, and their expressions held no malice.
Syrina relaxed a little and took another step closer.
Brant suddenly spoke without turning around to face her. “I told you to stay below, dammit. For once, will you do as you’re told?”
She glanced back toward the boat that continued moving closer. “They do not look dangerous to me. I see no weapons on them.”
“Just stay back,” Brant growled in return.
Grumbling under her breath, Syrina backed into the shadows, but kept her gaze on the slow-moving vessel heading toward them.
Something shiny reflected off the light from inside the cabin of the incoming boat.
Syrina squinted her eyes, her gaze locking on what looked to be the barrel of a human weapon.
What happened next would forever be burned into her mind. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Syrina burst from the shadows and sprinted across the deck as fast as her legs could move.
She slammed into Brant’s side, a split second ahead of the gunshot that suddenly rent the air.
They landed with a whoosh on the deck of the yacht, the sounds of Oz returning fire deafening and final.
And then Brant was looming over her, his face pale and anxious. “You’ve been hit!” he breathed as the pain abruptly made its appearance.
Syrina stared up into Brant’s desperate eyes, unable to move, to breathe, or even think. Agony seared her chest, telling her without words that she’d been shot in that vicinity.
“No!” Brant snarled, covering her body in an obvious effort to protect her. His arms came around her shoulders, and his face pressed against her forehead. “Hold on, baby. I’m going to get you some help!”
Syrina could feel herself fading fast, the sounds of gunfire growing weaker in the distance.
“You stay with me!” Brant yelled over the thunder of bullets. “Keep your eyes open, baby! I got you, love. I got you!”
The shooting abruptly stopped, and the sounds of screams could be heard coming from the enemy’s vessel.
Brant lifted his head, his desperate gaze staring at something Syrina couldn’t see. “Zyen’s back.”
Removing his weight from Syrina’s body, Brant rolled to his knees, scooped her up into his arms, and stood in one fluid motion.
The pain of that movement took her breath, along what little hold she had left on reality. Her eyes began to roll back in her head.
Brant took off in a run. “Don’t you do it! Don’t you die on me, God dammit!”
Syrina spiraled out of control, her mind losing touch with everything but the words spilling from Brant’s mouth. The last thought she had before the darkness overtook her, was that Brant had called her…love.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Brant felt as if his heart would beat out of his chest, so great was his fear.
He ran down the hallway, his ribs protesting the extra weight. He didn’t care. Nothing mattered but getting Syrina to the safety of his room where he could assess her injuries.
Reaching his bedroom door, he turned to the side, mindful of Syrina’s dangling legs, and rushed inside.
As gently as he could manage, he placed her on the center of his bed, taking in the massive amount of blood staining her upper body.
“Jesus,” he choked out, reaching for the ties on her sharkskin vest. “Why did you do that, Syrina? It should have been me…not you.”
He peeled her vest off and stared down at the gaping hole in her shoulder. It took everything he could not to cry out in rage. She had taken a bullet meant for him.
Zyen came barreling into the room, his face pale as the sheet Syrina lay on. “Syrina!”
Brant quickly yanked a blanket over her breasts. “She’s been shot. I need to assess her wound, see if the bullet is still in there.”
Hurrying forward, Zyen asked, “What can I do?”
“Go around to the other side of the bed and roll her toward you enough that I can see underneath her.”
Zyen did as instructed. He placed a knee on the mattress, gently gripped her shoulder, and eased her onto her side.
A tormented moan escaped her, but she thankfully remained unconscious.
Brant dropped to his knees behind her, relieved to see that the bullet had passed clean through.
“The bullet cleared her shoulder, but she’s losing a lot of blood.” He surged to his feet. “We need to slow the bleeding. Go ask Oz what type of medical supplies he has on the yacht.”
Zyen lowered her gently back to the mattress and rushed from the room without question.
“What were you thinking?” Brant whispered, stroking her face with the back of his hand. “That had to be the stupidest thing you could have done. Brave, but stupid.”
He bent down and touched his lips to her forehead, realizing for the first time that tears swam in his eyes. Syrina had saved his life yet again. She’d sailed in front of him, knowing full well she risked being hit.
Moving down her face, he pressed his lips against hers and spoke softly into her mouth. “You are the strongest and bravest person I know. Come back to me, Syrina. Please…”
Zyen burst back into the room, skidding to a halt behind Brant. Oz and Pyre were tight on his heels.
Brant jerked away from Syrina and nodded to the box that Zyen held. “Is that everything?”
“It is,” Oz answered for him. “How bad is she injured?”
Brant swallowed hard and accepted the box Zyen handed him. “It’s bad. I need to get the wound clean and close it up as best I can before she bleeds out. Do you have anything for pain?”
Oz nodded. “There’s some leftover from our last excursion on this yacht. It’s in the box.”
Brant plucked up the bottle of pain pills and poured a couple into his palm. He grabbed a bottled water he had sitting on his bedside table, and gently lifted Syrina’s head from the pillow.
“Take these, love.” He put the pills in her mouth and then tipped the water to her lips.
She made small, coughing sounds a couple of times, but managed to swallow the pills without choking.
“Good girl,” Brant murmured, opening her mouth to be sure the pills had gone down.
Oz touched him on the shoulder. “I have the yacht headed northwest. I’ll get us home as quickly as possible.”
“I will assist Brant with Syrina’s wound,” Zyen offered, moving back to the opposite side of the bed.
Pyre cleared his throat. “I will go wait with the human female. She did not fare well during our swim back. I believe she is vomiting over the railing.”
Brant began once again sifting through the box of medical supplies. “And the boat th
at attacked us?”
“All dead,” Zyen growled, a satisfied glint in his eyes.
Brant glanced up momentarily. “Rebels?”
“Looks like it.” Oz spun around and hurried toward the door. “We need to get out of these waters before we run into more of them. And you can bet your ass, there’s more of them.”
Once the room cleared out, Brant opened a bottle of alcohol and nodded for Zyen to take hold of Syrina’s shoulders. “Hold her still. This is going to burn like hell.”
Zyen did as he was told, a muscle bunching along his jaw.
“I’m so sorry,” Brant mentally sent to Syrina, and then poured the alcohol over the gaping hole in her shoulder.
Syrina cried out, her back coming off the bed.
Brant noticed the muscles in Zyen’s arms straining in an effort to hold her down.
It broke Brant’s heart to cause her more pain, but given no choice, he nodded to Zyen once more. “Pull her toward you.”
Once Zyen had her on her side, Brant locked his teeth in dread and doused the back of her shoulder with the germ-killing alcohol.
Another hoarse scream exploded from her throat to echo through the room and shatter Brant’s heart.
Setting the alcohol aside, Brant went to work attempting to pack the wound. He had no idea if she were bleeding internally, or if she had sustained more damage than he could see. But given little choice, he did the only thing he could at the moment.
With every scrap of gauze he packed inside the wound, Syrina’s body shook in agony.
“Do not hold so tightly to your guilt,” Zyen whispered, obviously picking up on Brant’s emotions. “She understands that you are only doing what you must.”
“I’m hurting her,” Brant growled, taping off the fresh dressing on her back.
Zyen continued to watch him. “You are saving her life. The pain cannot be avoided.”
Brant looked away, unwilling to release his guilt. “Ease her back down, so I can pack the front.”
Half an hour later, Brant had Syrina bandaged up, grateful to see that the pain meds had finally kicked in.
“She needs blood in order to heal. She has lost far too much.”
Zyen’s words swirled through Brant’s head in a myriad of emotions that left him momentarily speechless. To give Syrina his blood would create an even deeper bond than the one they already shared…and quite possibly mate them for life.
Brant rested his knee on the mattress and leaned in close to her face. His hand shook slightly as he brought his wrist to her mouth. With his other hand, he lifted her top lip and rested the largest vein he could find against her eyeteeth. “She will hate me for this.”
“Would you rather live with her death or her hate?”
There was no question in Brant’s mind as to that answer. He couldn’t imagine living in a world where Syrina didn’t exist. She could hate him until the end of time as long she survived.
“I won’t let her die.” He pressed his wrist more firmly against her teeth.
The sharp prick of her fangs penetrated his skin. He could literally feel his blood being drawn up into the pearl-colored incisors as soon as they made contact.
Brant stared down into her pale, beautiful face as he gave her the only thing he had left to give… his blood.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Syrina felt as if she’d been caught in an undertow and scraped along the rocks. Her body ached worse than it had ever ached in all her life.
An agonizing pain throbbed in her shoulder, powerful enough to cause her teeth to chatter. Was someone driving a spike through her flesh?
“You’re awake,” a soft, masculine voice murmured from above her. She recognized it as Brant’s.
She strained to open her eyes, wishing she hadn’t. Reality came crashing in with the force of a tidal wave.
The approaching boat, the older couple standing on its deck. A glint of sunlight reflecting on the barrel of a pistol. A loud, ear-splitting explosion. The bullet that entered her shoulder, taking her off her feet. The torment. Brant’s pleas as he worked feverishly to save her life.
“You,” she croaked, attempting to swallow around a painfully dry throat. “You were not shot?”
“No, but you were.” The mattress suddenly dipped with his weight.
His face appeared above her. “Why, Syrina? Why would you take a bullet meant for me?”
She stared up into his tortured hazel-colored eyes. “I did not think. I saw the sun’s reflection on the side of a human weapon. I only knew that I could not stand by and allow you to…” Her voice faded off with the feeling of panic that settled in his chest. “You gave me your blood.” It wasn’t a question.
Something akin to an apology swam in his eyes. “I had to. You might have died otherwise.”
“You had to?” she rasped, strangely hurt over the regret she heard in his voice. “Do you realize what you have done?”
Brant’s expression blanked, and his uncanny ability to hide his thoughts from her kicked into high gear.
He pushed to his feet. “I did nothing but what I had to do to keep you alive. Nothing has changed.”
“A lot has changed, Brant.”
“Such as? We shared blood, that’s it. We haven’t shared sex. You can still mate with whomever you choose. Once you’ve shared blood with the Bracadyte you choose and take him into your body, I’ll become a distant memory. So, no worries.” He left the room before she could respond.
Why did his words send pain slicing through her heart? It wasn’t as if she’d wanted him to admit he had feelings for her or anything, but wishing her to mate with another wasn’t exactly what she’d expected to hear either.
A knock sounded on the half-open door, and Zyen’s voice rang out. “I heard you were awake. May I enter?”
Syrina didn’t want company at the moment. She wanted to go over Brant’s parting words, to try to make sense of them.
Instead, she whispered, “Come in.”
Zyen stepped into the room, holding a bottle of water in one hand and two small, white pills in the other.
He held them out to her. “You are to take these. They will help with your discomfort.”
“Discomfort?” Syrina groaned, accepting the offering. “I feel as if a stake has been driven through my chest.”
“I am sorry for your pain, my kin.” He handed her the water bottle and sat next to her on the bed. “I was not sure you would survive your injuries. I have not been that afraid since Carmen was taken from me by Kerik back in Cuba. If not for Henagar being here, I am not certain what would have become of you.”
She swallowed the pills. “Did you know that he gave me his blood?”
Zyen’s gaze narrowed. “He saved your life. It could not have been easy for him either.”
“I am more than aware,” Syrina whispered, recalling Brant’s words and the regret in his voice. “He is not happy about it.”
“His unhappiness was more for you and the anger you would feel upon awakening.”
Syrina wasn’t so sure, but she kept her opinion to herself.
She lay there in bed, listening as Zyen filled her in on everything that had happened from the time he rescued Trescina until he arrived back at the yacht to find Syrina shot.
“You should not be so hard on the land walker, my kin. He only did what he thought was right.”
Zyen took the bottle of water from her fingers. “You two remind me a lot of Kaspyn and Thrasher.”
“We are nothing like Kaspyn and Thrasher,” Syrina slurred, the pain medication quickly taking hold. Her eyes began to slide closed. “They were in love when they exchanged blood…”
“Exactly.” The bed moved as Zyen stood and left the room.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Brant stayed away from his bedroom for the rest of the journey back to Aukrabah. Syrina was angry and more than a little resentful of his blood coursing through her veins. The last thing he wanted was to cause her more stress.
&nb
sp; Her wound had long stopped bleeding, and thanks to her Bracadyte genes, she was healing at a rapid rate.
Now that Brant had had time to think, she probably would have survived without his measly human blood. But at that time, watching her bleed out all over his bed, he hadn’t been willing to take that risk.
He would have given his life in exchange for hers, and that scared him more than anything.
Once they docked the yacht, Thrasher arrived in a black SUV similar to the one he’d procured for them a couple of days ago.
Oz stayed behind to do what needed doing with his yacht, while Pyre and Trescina climbed into the big three-seater.
Zyen walked alongside Syrina, who refused to allow anyone to carry her, of course.
Brant moved to climb in behind Syrina but changed his mind when he noticed the stiff set of her shoulders.
He closed the door to the SUV, stepped up to the driver’s window, and spoke to Thrasher. “I’m going to grab a bite to eat before heading back. Some of the restaurants and cafés have reopened in the area since the vaccine has become available to the public.”
Thrasher’s gaze bored into his. “You all right, man?”
“Sure. I’m just hungry.”
“I don’t guess I need to tell you to watch your back?” Thrasher muttered low. “Kerik is still out there somewhere. Not to mention the widespread epidemic of idiocy that started after the evacuation a few years back. Things may be trying to return to normal around here, but it’s by no means completely under control.”
Brant clasped his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I can handle myself. I’ll be along shortly.”
With a nod, Thrasher rolled up his window and pulled out of the parking lot.
Oz came jogging over once the SUV had disappeared around the corner. “If you want some company, I’ll be happy to join you. I can deal with this yacht shit later.”
“I appreciate it, Oz, but I think I’ll wing it alone. I got a couple of places I’d like to stop at before I return to Aukrabah.”
“If you’re sure?”
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