by Aliya DalRae
Harrier’s shirt had been torn from his body, his skin a mass of cuts and wounds, that horrible spear still protruding from his chest. But the last thing she saw before her eyes failed her were two distinct puncture wounds above his left pectoral. Her mark.
You’re mine, she thought, and the darkness consumed her.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
W ith the battle over, the Compound infirmary was a hive of activity as Allon and his medics rushed to save lives. Merlin stood in the shadows, watching as Jessica Sweet helped Allon change Martin’s bandages.
As Merlin understood it, when the ferals started shooting from the turrets it distracted the Soldiers for no more than a second or two. But it was enough time for the ferals to gain the upper hand. Once Nox had eliminated the snipers it was a matter of minutes before the rest of the brood fell. However, by then the damage had been done. Fifteen Soldiers lost their lives, eight more were in serious condition.
Martin was among the latter.
Merlin absently chewed on a fingernail, listening to the medical chatter going back and forth between the doc and his recruited nurse. Jessica had been studying with Allon for several months now, her pregnancy making it difficult for her to continue in her previous profession of refinishing furniture. She had a gift for healing and her compassion for the race afforded her a soothing bedside manner. The Soldiers trusted her and Raven almost never overreacted anymore when she came home smelling of another male’s blood. Or so Merlin had heard.
When the Soldier, Kyte, found him, Martin’s pulse had been faint, his breathing ragged. He was one of the unfortunate ones. The snipers must have taken him for a leader, for their aim was true. True enough, anyway. He’d taken two bullets: one in his left lung, and one clipped his heart. Some feral or other came in behind and stabbed him several times in the chest for good measure. It was a miracle he still lived.
An alarm went off on one of the machines, and Allon pushed Jessica’s hands aside, the urgency in his actions evident even though his words were a jumble to Merlin’s ears. He understood “clear” well enough, and watched as the paddles applied to Martin’s chest pulled him from the table.
Allon said, “Again. Clear.”
And he zapped the Soldier once more. The alarm went silent, and for entirely too long there wasn’t a sound. Jessica and Allon stared at the monitor, those paddles held at the ready in Allon’s hands.
Beep.
Merlin slid to the floor as the machine started up a steady rhythm of tones, indicating the Soldier’s heart was once again beating on its own. He wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his head against the wall, watching. Waiting.
Allon and Jessica hurried about their business, quickly sewing up what needed to be sewn and patching what could be patched.
“He needs blood,” Allon said, and Jessica nodded.
“I’ll see who’s still available.”
Merlin stood and cleared his throat. “I’ll do it.”
Two sets of eyes turned to him, their expressions indicating they hadn’t realized he was there.
“It’s okay,” Jessica said. “We have a list of volunteers. I just need to…”
“No.” Merlin was already by Martin’s side, rolling up his sleeve.
Jessica and Allon exchanged a look, but Merlin barely noticed.
Lying on the table with nothing but a thin sheet covering his hips, Martin looked like a shrunken version of himself, and he was too damn pale. With so many wounds laced together with long lines of stitches, he looked like a rejected Dr. Frankenstein project. No disrespect to Allon and Jessica, of course, but it was impossible not to draw the correlation. Of course, he would heal. Once he fed it would be but a short time before the wounds faded without a trace. Merlin, however, would never be able to un-see this.
His fangs had lengthened and he had his wrist to his lips when a gentle hand intervened.
“Here.” Jessica lowered his arm and cradled it in one palm as she wiped his wrist with an alcohol swab. She then opened a plastic wrapper and handed him a clean scalpel. It wasn’t like Vampire’s could get an infection, but with Sorcerers in play, they had taken to covering all the bases. He understood. It had been his suggestion.
Merlin pressed the scalpel against his skin and dragged it slowly across his wrist. When blood welled in the wound, he placed it against Martin’s lips, silently urging the male to swallow what he freely gave.
It took a moment for his reflexes to kick in, but when they did Martin fed greedily. Merlin closed his eyes, trying hard to convince himself that this was for medicinal purposes only. When Martin’s fangs extended, sunk into Merlin’s wrist, Merlin stifled the thrill that exploded in his belly. A sudden thought struck him and he glanced at Allon.
“Will he wake?”
Allon shook his head. “I’m afraid we have him heavily sedated. His condition is touch and go, and we can’t have him moving around too much until his heart and lung heal. Your blood should speed that along nicely, though.”
The old man smiled as Merlin exhaled a sigh of relief. He hadn’t thought this through. His only consideration was in saving this Soldier’s life. It hadn’t occurred to him that the male may not be receptive to waking with his fangs in another male’s wrist, despite the signals he gave to the contrary. All that mattered to Merlin was that he didn’t die.
Not another one. Not on his watch.
Chapter Sixty
N ox found a quiet room at the end of the med wing, farthest away from where Allon and Jessica were patching up the wounded. Those that patching would save, anyway. So many, too many, would not be coming home. Mouse’s wasn’t the only funeral on the upcoming schedule. On top of the three he’d lost at the park, another fifteen or so required ceremonies of their own. If Rachel was doing arrangements for all of them, she was going to be a busy female.
The room he’d found was average for a doctor’s office: patient’s table, sink and counter, couple of cabinets and two chairs against one wall. An adjustable stool with casters sat in an odd place off center of the room as though it had rolled away from its most recent occupant and let momentum determine its resting place.
Nox ignored the more appropriate seating options and lowered himself to the floor, leaning against a bare piece of wall to keep himself upright. His injuries were minor compared to most down here, and were he in the thick of it, he would only be in the way. Once things settled, he’d seek out the doc and have his own wounds tended.
He absently touched his upper arm where Rachel had stitched him together not so long ago. She’d done well enough with it, but he figured she was doing what she could to assist the others. Not that he wanted her help again. She’d caught him in a weak moment last time, and despite what was working itself into a tenuous friendship, she was the last person he wanted to see.
The door opened, and wouldn’t you know it, there she was, as if thinking of her had conjured her out of thin air.
“There you are,” Rachel said.
Nox sighed. “Here I am.”
“Jessica was worried about you. And what are you doing on the floor? Come on, let’s get you up.”
She reached for his hand and wrapped her free arm around his shoulder, as though that could get him to rise. Rachel wasn’t small, like Harrier’s girl, but there was no way she could move him if he resisted.
“Up you go,” she said again, and he involuntarily looked up. The bright fluorescent lights reflected on the lighter highlights in her fiery hair, and her green eyes sparked a little as she tried to get him off the floor. She was a stubborn female, he’d give her that.
Not wanting to embarrass her, Nox pushed himself up from the linoleum and let her guide him onto the patient’s table.
“So, what are we going to mend today?” she asked, making short work of removing his blood-soaked shirt. When she saw the gash in his abdomen, the knife wound in his chest, she gasped.
“Nox, why didn’t you say something. I’m sorry, this is out of my wheelhouse. Y
ou need to see Allon, and soon.”
“Let him finish with the others. I’ll be all right.”
Rachel puffed out a breath and scratched her head. “Will you at least take my blood? Perhaps if we can start the healing process, it might stay the internal damage until the doc can have a look.”
Nox cocked his head to the side, studied her face as she chewed the inside of her cheek, waiting for his response.
“One would think you’d be tired of donating blood to me,” he said.
“One would think,” she agreed, her full lips turned down in a distracted frown. Apparently, she thought that was his consent, as she turned to the cabinet and rooted around for antiseptic pads and a prepackaged scalpel.
When she faced him again, he shook his head. “I didn’t agree.”
“I know.” She tore open the little square package with her teeth, pulled out the gauzy swab and wiped at her wrist. When she opened the scalpel, he laid his hand on her arm.
“I’ll wait for the doc.”
Her frown deepened. “Why are you being so bloody difficult?” she asked and green fire danced in her eyes.
Because I already feel you when I close my eyes, when my defenses are down. I hear your thoughts, and crave your touch. Because taking more of your blood would only intensify this insane desire I have, to hold you, to claim you as my own. Because I’ve already allowed you to burrow into my heart, to become more important to me than even my brother. Because I don’t deserve any part of you, especially your blood.
But of course, he said none of this. How could he? Instead, he took the scalpel from her hand and tossed it into the sharps receptacle on the wall. He slid off the table with an arm against the gash in his stomach, and pushed his way around her.
“Answer me, Nox. Why won’t you let me help you?”
He stopped at the door, and turned to her. She was so beautiful, full of spirit and determination, and he wished, how he wished, that things could be different. But that was a pipe dream, and he’d given up on dreams a long, long time ago.
“Because I’m an asshole,” he said, and he walked out the door, leaving her to consider the truth of his words.
Chapter Sixty-One
K ythryn opened her eyes to a light so bright she thought she had died and joined the Goddess in some sort of human-religion-inspired afterworld. However, the pain that accompanied it was too real, and she figured that if she’d died, it probably wouldn’t still hurt this much—unless, of course, she’d ended up further south.
She gave the eye-opening another shot, a little slower this time, and some things came into focus. She was lying in a bed surrounded by a bunch of blinking, beeping equipment. Somebody’d stuck an IV needle in her arm and there was a long tube connecting her to a bag of some nefarious liquid, hanging from a hooky-type contraption. But more important than all of that, she saw her daddy.
He sat crumpled in a hard, plastic chair, his stubbled chin rested in his hand, his chest rising and falling as he snored quietly.
“Daddy?” It came out in a croak, but when she spoke her father snorted and bolted up straight.
“Baby girl.” He was on his feet in a second, hovering over her, brushing her hair from her eyes before grabbing her hand in both of his and holding it to his heart. “How’re you feeling? Are you in pain? Let me call the doctor.”
Kythryn grabbed hold of her father’s hand and kept him from running off. “I’m okay, Daddy. Some pain, but I have a feeling it could be a lot worse.”
Seamus grabbed the chair and it screeched on the linoleum as he dragged it closer to the bed. He never let go of her hand, though, and his eyes were shiny with tears she could tell he was trying hard not to shed. He sniffed loudly and rubbed his eyes on his shirt sleeve. “I thought I’d lost you. When that Merlin fella called me and…” He took several deep breaths before he could continue. “Kythryn, girl, don’t you ever do anything like that again, do you hear me? What were you thinking, going into the middle of a Vampire war zone like that? I knew it was a bad idea having that monster ‘protecting’ you, filling your head with crazy ideas. And a liger? Where in the world did you come up with the crazy notion of shifting into that abomination?”
Her father carried on for some time, but something he said stuck in her mind.
“Harrier…”
“And another thing, you…what?”
“Where’s Harrier?” Panic grabbed hold of her, gripping her heart like a metal vise and squeezing until she could scarcely breathe. Kythryn swung her legs to the ground and made to bolt, but the IV in her hand caught, and she screamed. “Get it off me,” she cried, scrambling to yank the needle from her hand.
“Kythryn, what are you doing? Have you lost your mind?” Seamus grabbed her hands and pushed her back onto the bed, but she fought against him as best she could. She was weak as a kitten, and her struggles were pathetic, but she had to get to Harrier. He had to be all right.
Her father proved to be the stronger of the two, and she eventually fell back against the bed, her body trembling as she sobbed.
“Quiet now, baby girl. It’s going to be okay.”
Kythryn shook her head from side to side, unable to stop the tears from streaming down her cheeks as images of Harrier with that damned spear through his chest played reruns in her head.
“So, it’s true, then.” Seamus patted her hair, an action meant to soothe, but his words sounded more like an accusation.
“Where is he?” Kythryn sobbed.
Seamus shook his head. “It’s okay, baby girl. If it’s that Vampire you’re speaking of, he’s down the hall recovering from some God-awful wounds. I’m told he wouldn’t be alive without your help. The Vampire with all the tats sounded downright impressed with you when he told me what you’d done. I still can’t believe you did all that for a Vampire, but then again, I never did quite understand your way of thinking most days.”
Kythryn stared at her father. “Did you say he’s okay? He’s alive?”
Seamus sighed. “Yes, thanks to you he’s still breathing. They said you killed a shit ton of ferals. Couldn’t tell how many, though, because of all the pieces.”
But Kythryn wasn’t listening. Harrier was alive! She struggled to get up again, but her father held her down.
“They promised to come and get you when he wakes up, assuming you were awake as well. But I don’t understand, Kythryn. Why would you go through all that for a Vampire?”
“He’s only half Vampire, Daddy. Would it help your prejudice if I told you he was also half Shifter?”
Seamus looked at her as though he were considering. “Feline?”
Kythryn cringed, but answered honestly. “No, Daddy. Avian.”
The look on her father’s face would have been comical if the situation weren’t so dire for her. He took a step away from her and patted the air like he was trying to slow things down.
“Hold on, baby girl. Are you telling me you’ve gone and fallen for a bird?”
Kythryn shrugged, but her father was just getting warmed up. “What are you thinking, girl? Your kids would be all like…” Seamus started hissing and flapping his arms like an airsick seagull.
Kythryn giggled. Maybe it was knowing that Harrier was still alive, or maybe seeing her daddy being all ridiculous like this tickled her funny bone. “Don’t forget the Vampire half,” she reminded him, and his face fell mid-flap.
He slapped himself on the forehead and said, “You’re right! It’ll be more like…” He took up with the flapping and hissing again, but added a few blaaah-blah-blaaah-blah-blaaahs in for vampiric emphasis. When he finished, he gave her a pointed look, his hands planted firmly on his hips as he awaited her response.
Kythryn eyed her father. She never thought she would ever love a man as much as she loved Seamus Flannigan. He was her model for everything that was good in the world. But Harrier was something else altogether. He came off grumpy, but he was a good man, and she knew that, like her father, he would never let her down.
“Talk to him, Daddy. Get to know him.”
“Have you forgotten, we’ve met? I wasn’t impressed.”
“Things are different now. Just…talk to him.”
Her father’s eyes softened and he reached over to lay a palm on her cheek. “I’m not making any promises,” he said. “but for you, I’ll try.”
Kythryn laid her hand on her father’s and whispered, “Thank you.”
The door opened and Viper stuck his head in the room. “You’re awake.”
Kythryn nodded, not sure how to behave around this particular Vampire. Seemed they now had history, but then again, that was when she was a liger.
“Well, then, if you’re feeling up to it, there’s somebody wants to see you.”
Kythryn couldn’t get out of bed fast enough.
Chapter Sixty-Two
“B ut she’s a cat!”
Harrier grabbed his head with both hands, trying to ease the aching that had started behind his eyes the minute his sister started her rant about Kitty.
“Really, Harrier, can’t you see the irony?”
He shook his head. “Of course, Rachel, but what can I do? She’s stolen my heart and I…” There simply were no words to describe what that little feline meant to him. He tried living without her, tried putting her out of his mind, but it was impossible. And that was before he’d had her in his bed. Before he’d fought beside her, learned her strengths and her weaknesses. Before he’d realized he was hopelessly in love with her.
Rachel’s eyes softened and she paused her pacing long enough to stand beside his hospital bed. His wounds were healing well enough, the hole through his torso taking the longest to repair itself. A volunteer had donated blood to him, a fact he would not be sharing with Kitty, and that had sped things along for him.
Still, the fact remained, if Kitty hadn’t found Viper, Harrier wouldn’t be lying there arguing with his sister. That little cat had saved his life, and not merely in the literal sense. How did he explain to the sister he had loved for centuries how vital this female was to his existence?