by T. A. Grey
He handed a gun over. “Be careful with that.”
She turned and headed back toward them. She raised the gun.
“Hey now what do you think you’re—”
She fired. Bam bam bam! They split apart. The gun was so loud in the tight space, deafening. A high-pitch ringing began in her right ear, then moved to the left ear. Blood ran down Jericho’s face. Grayson shouted something at her. She couldn’t hear because of the damn ringing in her ears and she couldn’t make out what he said. She aimed at Jericho and fired. She hit his chest. He grunted and stumbled back a few steps, cupping the wound over his chest.
She squeezed that trigger one more time. Click. Nothing happened.
That’s when Kane came up and grabbed the gun from her hands. Her hearing began to fade back in like someone was turning the volume up. “That’s enough of that.”
“Why did you do that? He’s almost dead!”
“Sorry, babe, but the clip is out.”
The hatchet had flown from his hands. Grayson stood up looking like predator about to go in for the kill.
“Better hurry if you wanna get your girl out of here,” Kane said.
Grayson stopped and looked back at them, surprise flickering as if he’d forgotten they were in the room with him. “Get her out of here,” he said.
“I’m not leaving you here now, dammit. You’re coming with me. We get out of this together.” Her voice clogged on the last word. She hated being emotional at a time like this but she could do nothing but be emotional at a time like this.
“Go, Arabella.”
“Heh. Little liar. Raquel, my ass,” muttered Kane.
Arabella ignored him. “I will not leave here, I swear. Unless you come with me.” Jericho struggled to stand. He was breathing hard, blood pouring from the silver gunshot wound and he must be feeling dizzy from all the fighting with Grayson.
“Then don’t watch.” He turned to Jericho as he picked up the silver hatchet. “Is this what killed my mate?”
Arabella shook at the sound of his voice. He was going to kill this man and probably relish doing so. She should look away as he said but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not even for one second. Grayson limped on his left leg, standing hunched over from the stab wounds and number of pains he must be feeling.
“Yes,” Jericho said in that soft voice. “But first I killed all those bodyguards to help dull the blade. So that by time I got to her skinny little neck it was like cutting a chicken’s head off with a steak knife. It took four full blows and some sawing to completely sever it. Of course I marked her with our seal first. She’s one of us now.”
“She was nothing to you. She deserved better.”
“So did my brother.”
“He attacked first.”
Jericho laughed, spitting up bright red blood and spit. “Your whole family is going to die, Blackmoore. Even her,” his gaze slid straight to Arabella. She paled. Grayson’s gaze narrowed. There was so much pent-up rage and anger trembling from his mighty shoulders it was a wonder he didn’t tear Jericho apart limb from limb with his bare hands. That’s what he looked like he wanted to do—to bask in this man’s blood. “I can smell your need for her. How odd that I didn’t now smell that unique scent in your own home toward your own mate. Did your bruid not please you?”
Grayson roared. It was a savage, feral sound. And then he hacked at Jericho. She watched every awful second of it. Even until the head dangled by a thick tendon from Jericho’s neck in the gristliest thing she’d ever seen. With a final whack, the head fell, severed, to the floor.
He stood, breathing hard over the body, violence trembling in his hands.
“Time to go now, babe. Like now,” Kane said.
She didn’t know him and she didn’t trust him, but he saved their lives so she believed him. “Grayson, let’s go!”
His stare landed on hers, wild and chaotic.
“Come to me.” He clutched the hatchet like he wanted to continue to hit. “I need you to do this for me.” Her words finally reached him and he dropped the hatchet.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Grayson said.
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” she agreed.
Before they left, Grayson turned to Kane. “If you try to kiss her, I’ll kill you.”
CHAPTER 26
Grayson was badly injured so it was decided she’d drive. With the help of Kane, the mysterious mercenary who’d saved their lives, Arabella and Grayson finally got on the road and a safe distance away from the casino.
The scent of his fresh blood filled the car. “We have to get you healed up. Who’s your healer?” she asked steadily.
His shoulders shook with dry laughter. “We don’t have one.”
Her eyebrow flew up at that. “You mean to tell me one of the wealthiest and most famous vampire families in the world doesn’t have a doctor on call?”
She peered at him. He sat hunched in the passenger seat. They’d grabbed his clothes and he’d pulled them on gingerly before they finally made it out of that hellhole. I can’t believe I’m not dead.
“I don’t want to go back to the estate yet.” He wasn’t looking at her and he wasn’t saying much. Surely the man must have a lot going on right now. He’d just killed the second Donato son. He’d taken vengeance for his bruid’s murder tonight. But that still didn’t solve many of the problems they had. Such as the father, Vincent. He would learn of his second son’s death and surely retaliate.
“Okay, I have an idea. Just sit tight.”
After a long, quiet drive back to her pack, Arabella pulled to a stop. Sophie Brandenburg was the pack healer. An older woman with long graying hair, forever caught in tangles around her head, met them outside. Sophie stood shorter than Arabella’s five-four and forever wore the same flower printed dresses. Tonight her dress had blue flowers on a white background. She wiped her mouth using the shoulder of her dress.
“Is that you, Ara? What’s brought you all the way up here?”
Sophie lived quite secluded on pack land. She preferred it that way. Or otherwise she’d have every pack member with a simple headache banging on her door. This far out made them think twice about abusing her powers. Only serious matters came here. Especially as late as it was.
“I have a little problem.” She opened the passenger door to reveal the bloodied mess that was Grayson.
Sophie gasped at the sight, then shook her head. “Well let’s get him inside.” She sniffed and made a disgusted face. “He’s a vampire. Don’t know how much help I can be with one of his kind.”
“I’m sure we can figure something out,” Arabella said.
Grumbling, Grayson pushed their helping hands away and stood himself. He wobbled and ended up leaning on her to help get inside. They followed Sophie up into the cabin. The home was small and cozy with a warm fireplace that crackled with life and the fresh scent of homemade bread recently baked. It always made Arabella feel good to be here.
She was panting beneath Grayson’s weight. She saw him sweating and struggling to keep his weight off her but he was too hurt. After everything they did to him, only parts of it she’d been able to watch, she completely understood. She sat him down on the spare cot Sophie used for patients.
“Let me wash my hands,” Sophie said, disappearing into the kitchen. Water turned on a moment later. “Tell me what happened in the meantime.”
“I don’t even know where to begin.”
Sophie entered the room again, drying her hands on a towel. “Vampire,” she said to Grayson. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
Grayson’s eyes had drifted shut. At the mention of his name, they opened. “Stabbed repeatedly in the abdomen with a silver blade. Hacked across my back with a hatchet also made of silver. Electrocuted, shocked, hit and whatever else they did that I can’t remember. I’m fine.”
Arabella snorted. “Fine, my ass. You’re not fine. He’s badly injured and he needs help. Can you help, Sophie?”
>
The healer shrugged then sat on the cot. She started removing his clothes, much to his denials. “Shut up, young man, and do as I say. You don’t want to see me get forceful.” That calmed him enough to allow Sophie and Arabella to take his clothes off. The bloody, hurt mess that greeted them was not a pleasant sight.
“I just need time to heal,” Grayson said, his voice a croak. “And blood.”
“Time you have. What we don’t have is blood.”
Arabella straightened to her full height. “You don’t have any spare blood around here?”
Sophie was shaking her head. “I’m a Were healer. I’ve never had need of spare blood. But I believe I know a way to help speed up the healing process. I’ll be back.” She went back into the kitchen.
Arabella stared down at Grayson. “You need blood.” It was fact. One she hadn’t thought of. She’s wasn’t a vampire, so requiring blood wasn’t something she was used to.
“I’ll heal enough without it.” He grimaced as he tried to find a comfortable position, which apparently was impossible.
“You should have let me take you to the Blackmoore Estate. There’s plenty of blood there.” Something beguiling in his dark brown eyes softened her heart. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.
“Come here,” he said softly. She started to lean down to him, her chest full with emotion. But then Sophie swept back in to the room whistling the theme from Gilligan’s Island.
“All right, here’s what I can do for you and it’s not as much as I’d like. First off, I don’t keep supplies of blood lying around and I think you’d be hard pressed to find any local Were who has any either. Obviously you’re a vampire who’s lost a lot of blood and it needs to be replenished.”
“Right, so you can help then?” Arabella asked hopefully.
“What I can do is make you a brew.”
Grayson started to try to sit up but his wounds made that difficult. “I’m not drinking any of your brew.”
Arabella knelt by his side. She did not give him her friendliest look. It had been a very long day and she was just happy to be alive. All she wanted right now was a nice warm bed and lots of sleep. But the night still wasn’t over and right now, in her crazed mind, that was his fault. “You’re drinking it.” Her voice brooked no room for argument.
He must have seen the determination on her face—because she was not budging on this. Nodding, he took the ceramic mug with the saying YOLO written across it. Arabella chuckled at the You only live once cup.
He sniffed the cup like it might contaminate him if he got too close to it. He reared back. “It smells awful.” His stomach heaved which only made him grunt in pain.
“It will help you to heal much faster so you can get home to your own people.”
“Please,” she said, meeting his gaze.
He drank the contents of the cup in one swallow, never breaking their connection. He finished and handed the cup back to Sophie. He only gagged once to keep it down. A smile came over her and she couldn’t keep herself from kissing him on the lips swiftly. “Thank you,” she breathed again him.
Sophie groaned as she stood. “Oooh, damn knees are always giving me a hard time. I’m going to bed now. My room’s in the back. Ara, girl,” she looked around at the small cabin and shrugged, “sleep wherever you can find space.”
Arabella looked down at the cot Grayson currently occupied. It was double wide and used to accommodating big, injured Weres. Now it had one half-naked vampire who she was pretty certain she loved. She wasn’t ready to fully become aware of her new realization, but it was there waiting for her. And it didn’t surprise her in the least. In fact, she had the opposite reaction. Pure joy at finally understanding that she loved him, she could love him, and she did. Whether or not he could ever reciprocate those feelings was another matter entirely. And one that terrified her to find out.
Sophie left them and the room grew quiet save for the crackle of the fire. Grayson lay his head back on the pillow as he stared at the fire across the room. There was blood everywhere. Muttering something to him, she went into the bathroom to grab some washcloths. She wet them with warm water and returned. She began with his face, wiping the streaks and dirt away.
“How do you feel?” she asked softly, not wanting to disturb the quiet atmosphere.
“Like I got the shit beaten out of me.”
She laughed then clamped her lips together. “I’m sorry, that was rude. I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s not funny.”
One corner of his mouth curled up into a grin. “It was funny.” He sobered. “They hurt you.” His jaw stiffly grinded to the side.
“No, I just got a cold shower. I’m fine.” He coughed but that soon turned to rich laughter. The kind she’d never heard him genuinely make. It was a beautiful, contagious sound that had her laughing with him.
“You have this ability to take terrible situations and think about them positively. I can never do that,” he admitted.
Which popped the question: why was he being so candid with her? This wasn’t like him, smiling and laughing at her, being honest and even sharing personal thoughts. This was not the Grayson she knew, only the one she’d loved when she’d seen glimpses of that side of him. She began cleaning her way down his neck and chest. And that’s where her focus became fine-tuned.
In her life, Arabella noticed that when a man saw a good-looking woman his eyes would usually widen and he’d end up staring at her, dumbstruck. Sissy had recounted numerous tales, and Ara had even been present for a few of them, where Sissy’s jaw dropped at the sight of a gorgeous man. Well, Arabella didn’t have that problem. In fact, she didn’t entirely understand it. She supposed she was just different like that. Her problem was different. When she saw a gorgeous man, she clammed up. Her eyes wanted to avert away from the gorgeous man and not look him in the eyes. Why she felt this strange sort of cowardice, she didn’t know. Grayson had that effect on her. Though she was much older now and more mature. She could hold his gaze, smile, and maybe even flirt with him. But the power of his attractiveness still overwhelmed her.
His chest was a wall of sculpted muscle. A spattering of hair covered his torso thinning down to a thin trail that disappeared beneath the cover Sophie had pulled over his lower half. Such a shame. His shoulders were defined, pronounced with muscle that carried down into his arms and even his hands which clearly showed strength from a life of hard work. His nipples were dusky brown flat rounds with a little nubbin she wanted to kiss and nibble on herself. He had defined pectoral muscles that brought a whole new dimension to his already incredible body.
Using the washcloth, she wiped away dirt and blood. She rinsed the cloth when it needed to be cleaned and left no inch dirty. Arabella took great care in washing his hands and pulling out the dirt beneath his nails. He’d fought hard tonight and killed men. Now she felt like a warrior’s wife after battle, cleaning her mate and trying to repair some of the damage.
“I hate the black in your hair,” he said. He spoke lazily like he was basking on a warm afternoon in the sun—then again he was a vampire and certainly never did that. Sometimes she forgot he wasn’t like her. He’d never eat a dinner she cooked. A pang of disappointment struck her.
“Yeah, I know. I don’t do the exotic dark beauty look very well. I’m more a sneakers and ponytail kind of lady.” Still, his comment shouldn’t hurt her feelings, but it did.
“I prefer your natural color. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Then again he could take a bite out of you.
At the thought, her blood pumped hard, warming her skin and making her flush. His bite, though brief and strained earlier, had been a unique experience, that’s for sure. She wouldn’t be forgetting it any time soon. Or ever. No way. She wanted him to do it again, but she wanted it when they weren’t shivering cold and covered in blood and filth. She wanted his bite when he wanted it. Already she could imagine how wonderful it could be and wanted to sigh.
She laughed nervous
ly and dropped his hand, afraid she might start kissing his fingers or rubbing her cheek against him like a cat if she didn’t stop. “Thank you. Both my parents were blonde. I’m actually a little surprised I never came out darker like all my other relatives who are brunettes.”
“It’s perfect how it is.
Her eyes bugged but she got it under control as she continued to clean around his abdomen. Here she had to be careful of his wounds. Being a vampire, it didn’t matter if they sanitized the wound with alcohol or applied medication to it. He would need a fresh supply of blood to regrow and heal, especially quickly. Whatever was in that brew surely would help. Sophie was an incredible healer. But that also begged the question—what was in that brew?
Because Grayson was staring up at her with a smile on his face and look that said he wanted to kiss her. He was making it awfully hard to try to breathe like a normal person.
“Thank you for saying that. I’ve always found my hair problematic.”
He scoffed as if he found her statement insulting. “How? It’s beautiful like sunshine. It makes me want to touch it.”
Her belly dipped and fluttered like a little ballerina. “That’s very nice of you to say.”
“You’re flustered.”
Wide-eyed, she met his poignant stare. His eyes could see right through her, surely. Or so that’s how she felt when he looked at her. Like he could see everything she felt for him.
“Yes, I am. Some. Not much.” Before she could sound any more stupid, she ran to the bathroom and rinsed out the washcloth. She took a moment to wipe the sweat from her brow too. When she returned, he’d turned his head away from her. He looked like he was sleeping. For a minute she just watched the rise and fall of his chest.
His voice broke the reverie. “I can feel your eyes on me.” His head turned back to look at her.
It felt like being caught with your hand down the cookie jar as a child. “No,” she quickly denied.
He arched a brow and gave her a devilish grin. Who was this new Grayson? Her mind spun at the change. Surely it was part euphoria from killing the man who’d murdered his mate but also from the brew.