Knights of White Bundle

by Lisa Renee Jones

  He eased her onto the edge of the mattress, and he kneeled in front of her, hands on her legs. He wished he could wipe away her pain, take it as his own, but he didn’t know how. “What can I do?”

  She managed a weak smile and touched his jaw. “Just get help for that town. I’m going to go to the bathroom and splash some water on my face.” Her stomach growled. “Okay, so maybe food and a little rest is in order, too.”

  “I’ll call for help and then ask the front desk about the nearest food.”

  “That sounds good,” she said, pushing to her feet and standing there a minute. “The dizziness seems to have passed.”

  She’d rested all of a minute. Max wasn’t convinced she’d recovered. “Just the same, leave the bathroom door open so I can hear you call out if you need me.”

  “You’re the one that’s injured,” Sarah reminded him. “I have a headache. Nothing more.”

  He hoped she was right. “At least leave it cracked.”

  “I’ll leave it cracked in case you need me,” she teased.

  Max laughed at that and moved to sit on the bed by the nightstand, shaking his head at Sarah’s comment. Damn how he loved her spunk. If they both weren’t so exhausted and beat up, he’d worry about being alone with her, worry he’d lose his willpower and make use of the bed for much more appealing pleasures than sleep.

  He grabbed the phone and the sweet sound of a dial tone slid into his ears a second before Sarah screamed and fell to the bathroom floor. Max dropped the phone. “Sarah!”

  Max found her curled up like a child, her hands on her head. “Max,” she whispered. “I…My head hurts. It hurts bad. Every time Kate—” Her words disappeared into a sob.

  “It’s okay, baby,” he said, pulling her close. God, she was shaking. “I’ll get you help. I promise. I’ll get you help.”

  Lifting her, Max carried Sarah to the bed, and began rubbing her arms and back, trying to calm her down. He knew from experience that the adrenaline and fear a person experienced from pain would intensify their physical reactions.

  He leaned against the headboard and pulled her close to his uninjured side and under his arm, reaching for the phone cord with the free hand and tugging. When it was in reach, he dialed Jag’s cell, relieved to hear his leader’s voice after only two rings.

  Jag didn’t bother with hello. “We were about to come looking for you,” Jag said. “You aren’t answering your phone, and Des had one of those new visions of his. He said the Beasts—”

  “I need Marisol and I need her now,” Max said, cutting off Jag.

  “We’ll be right there.” The line went dead. Max set the phone back in place, telling himself everything would be okay now. Jag’s gifts included an ability to locate anyone he made verbal contact with. Jag and Marisol were the only two in their group who could travel by orbing—they could travel through space at light speed. Once Jag had found Marisol, they’d be here in a flash. And Jag had said they were about to come looking for him, which meant he wasn’t on his own. In the far corner of his mind, he’d worried that because of his test, there would be limits to what Jag would be allowed to do to help. But deep down, he knew that if innocents were in danger, there were no limits. Whatever test Max had to pass would not put others in danger. Only himself.

  Sarah breathed in and out with labored effort, alternating silence with soft murmurs of pain. Max lay there holding her, minutes passing as if they were hours, fear for her life tearing him up inside. How long had it been since he’d cared for someone as he did Sarah? He remembered his family, remembered the emptiness their deaths had left inside him—he lived with that each day of his life. But the caring, the worry, the daily emotions that came with love—these things he didn’t remember at all. Only that what he felt now, with Sarah in pain, in his arms, touched him deeply. Love bound together two mates, destiny linked their souls. Love. It hurt. It excited. It scared the hell out of him.

  Jag and Marisol appeared in that moment at the foot of the bed. Max wasn’t sure what calmed him more, the dominating warriorlike confidence of their leader or the soft promise of hope that clung to their healer. “You two are a sight for sore eyes,” Max said. “She’s in pain, and I don’t know how to help.”

  “You don’t look so good yourself, man,” Jag said instantly, as Marisol moved forward, easing onto the bed, tucking her long white skirt under her legs, and shoving her mass of raven hair behind her ears.

  “What the hell happened?” Jag demanded. “Why couldn’t we get through to you?”

  Marisol reached out to touch Sarah, but Max gently shackled her wrist. As much as he wanted her to heal Sarah, it wouldn’t be fair to let her begin without the facts. “You should know what you’re dealing with first.”

  Max knew Marisol could fight off beastly influences if she touched a human soon enough after a bite, but these were not Darkland Beasts they were dealing with. These demons were demon spirits. He went on to explain more about the demon spirits, including a condensed version of what had taken place back in Nowhere, his focus shifting between Marisol and Jag.

  Drawing to a conclusion, Max shared the sheriff’s and Edward’s dicey medical conditions before fixing his attention back on Marisol. “Can you help her?”

  Marisol’s eyes comforted, her presence alone somehow warm and full of healing. She reached out and touched Sarah. “She’s not sick. She’s exhausted.” Her gaze went from Max to Jag. “She’s also very special. Her gifts are strong, her mind, too. These evil spirits are draining her, though.”

  “What does that mean?” Max asked. “If they keep attacking her, will this keep happening?”

  “When was the last time either of you slept?” Marisol asked, but didn’t give him time to respond.

  Sarah murmured something.

  “She doesn’t seem as if she can rest,” he said.

  “I’ll put her into a deep healing sleep,” Marisol said. “After I heal you,” she said, her gaze sweeping his stomach.

  He quickly rejected that idea. “No. Healing weakens you. The sheriff and Edward are not well and who knows how many others have been injured since we left.”

  “It takes a lot to drain me, and who will protect her if you die?” Marisol said. “Bleeding to death serves no purpose. She’s your mate. It’s your duty to protect her.”

  “Mate?” Jag asked, his brows lifting. “Sarah is your mate?”

  “I believe so,” Max said, glancing at Marisol. “How did you know?”

  “Not with magic or my healing touch,” she said. “It’s in your eyes. That same look of utter devotion Jag and Des have for their mates.” She gave him a reprimanding look. “Now, let me heal you, so I can get on with taking care of your woman.”

  Jag chuckled and eyed Max. “The lady has spoken. I think you better listen.”

  “You’re sure you can heal the others if you heal me?”

  Marisol rolled her eyes, pushed off the bed and stomped around to Max’s side. “Stop asking questions and let me do my job.”

  “I’ll gather a team to go into Nowhere,” Jag said, inclining his head at Max and grinning at Marisol’s reprimand. “I’ll meet you out front so we don’t disturb Marisol and Sarah when I return.” He didn’t wait for an answer before flashing out of the room.

  Thirty minutes later, completely healed, though still exhausted, Max stood outside. Fortunately, they seemed to be the only visitors at the hotel, allowing them to engage in open conversation. Des, Rock, Rinehart and Jag surrounded Max. These were the Knights who made him feel as if he belonged, who he hoped would allow him to become a permanent part of their team. To really be a part of their circle of trust. He knew they had doubts about his involvement, but since he’d saved Des’s mate, they looked at him differently, with more acceptance. But he also knew that Des, especially, knew how close to the darkness Max walked. Des had been there the day Max had taken that human’s life.

  With a quick recap of everything that had gone down back in Nowhere, Texas, Max brough
t the Knights up-to-date on the troubles they faced. When Max finished, Des was the first to interject his opinions.

  “Chingado,” Des muttered using a familiar Spanish curse word—at least familiar to anyone who spent any amount of time around Des. “I knew something was wrong, man. These damn visions are freaking impossible to understand.” He laughed incredulously. “I kept seeing you with a shovel refilling a deep-ass hole in the ground. I guess that was you trying to keep this demon in his underground prison. I don’t know how I was supposed to know what that meant and send help.”

  “They’ll get easier to decipher with time,” Jag offered, one booted foot resting on a concrete step leading to the second floor of the hotel. The sparse accommodations offered only outdoor entry to the rooms.

  “Says Salvador,” Des said dryly. He’d never been fond of Salvador’s coded messages and vague statements.

  Jag narrowed his gaze on Des. “Says me. Every day with Karen, my abilities become stronger.”

  “You’re here now,” Max inserted. “That’s what counts. And that town needs you.” He frowned. “There’s something bothering me, though. Why was I allowed to leave? Surely Vars knew I’d bring back help.”

  “Sounds like a trap,” Rinehart reflected, shoving his cowboy hat back from his blue eyes that were sharp with suspicion.

  “Oh, yeah,” Rock chimed in. “Definitely a trap. But hey—” he shrugged “—we’re used to that.”

  Rinehart snorted, irritated at Rock as usual. “Are you nuts, kid? Going into that town is playing right into their hands. We can’t just charge in without any idea what we’re dealing with.”

  Max didn’t like it, but Rinehart made sense. He eyed Jag. “The town doctor could only do so much for the sheriff. He’ll die without immediate help.” He hesitated. “If it’s not too late already. And this Cathy who works with Sarah. She actually has several people she wanted me to contact who could help. She’s got a lot to offer. She understands the magical aspects of all of this.”

  “Let’s recap what we all know,” Des said, resting a hand on his hip. “We’ve got three Shadow Masters, and three Shadow Stones. Somehow, together they can give Vars the power to be free. We don’t known anything about these stones or these Masters. Really, we don’t know squat.”

  “We know we have to get to them before Allen does,” Rock interjected.

  “Or keep Allen from getting back to the cabin with them in tow,” Max added.

  “Wait,” Jag said. “Allen has to go back to the cabin to free Vars?”

  “Right,” Max agreed. “Which makes securing the cabin critical. If we can’t stop Allen from getting the power he needs to free Vars, we need to stop him from getting back to Vars.”

  “Which is likely what they’re counting on,” Rinehart inserted. “Get us there and trap us.”

  Rock nodded his agreement before offering a suggestion. “Why not put a group of Knights on the outskirts of town, ready to aid our efforts in case of attack, but out of harm’s reach?”

  Rinehart, a military man in his human life, quickly axed that. “That’s expected. The Beasts could simply come up behind them and push them forward.”

  Jag considered a minute. “Okay. Here is what we’ll do. I’ll talk to Salvador. Des will go back to the ranch and make contact with Cathy’s people and come up with a list of targets Allen might be after. From there he will communicate with Max and Sarah to go after Allen. Rock, Rinehart, you two head into Nowhere and investigate. Take Marisol so she can heal the sheriff and attempt to help Edward.”

  As if on queue, Marisol opened the door and motioned Max and Jag forward. The two of them joined her in the room. “She’s resting now.” Marisol looked at Max. “She should sleep awhile now. Let her. She needs it. You do, too. I know you don’t want to but you need to. Let us take over long enough for you to recuperate.”

  “You’re sure she’s okay?” Max asked, staring at Sarah’s pale face, dark circles coloring the skin beneath her eyes.

  “She just needs rest,” Marisol said.

  “We can take her to the ranch where she’ll be safe,” Jag offered.

  “No,” Max said quickly. “I haven’t explained everything about our world to her.” He paused, torn about saying more than he had to. Jag might not agree with his handling of Sarah. Reluctantly, he added, “I don’t know if I am going to.”

  Jag narrowed his eyes on Max and then cast Marisol a look. She quickly picked up on what he wanted. “I’ll leave you two to talk, so I can attend to the others who need me.”

  “Marisol,” Max said, as she walked to the door. She turned back to him and he added, “Thank you and be careful.”

  A sad look flashed in her eyes. “I’d tell you to do the same, but I know you won’t listen.” She glanced at Sarah as if she wanted to say more, but didn’t, turning away and exiting without another word.

  “I’ve never asked a favor before,” Max said the minute the door shut, “but I need one now. I need to know if I don’t pass this test, if I don’t survive, that Sarah will be looked after.”

  Jag tilted his head, his gaze probing Max’s face. “You’ve decided your fate already.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I almost killed Edward today,” Max said. “I wanted to kill him.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “Didn’t you hear what I said? I wanted to. I could damn near taste his blood. He tried to kill Sarah and I lost it.” His lips thinned. “Just like before. Just like with the other human. The beast took control.”

  “If the beast had control, you would have killed Edward.”

  “I stopped because of Sarah.” He hesitated. “Because I didn’t want her to see what I really am. Not because I wanted to spare the human.” And he realized, it was also because he’d felt her fear, her guilt. She would have blamed herself for Edward’s death, for not saving him, for not protecting him from the demon.

  “A Beast wouldn’t have stopped for any reason. You know that as well as I do.”

  “And if you’re wrong?” Max asked. “She has enough demons in her world without dealing with mine. I have to find a way to come through this or leave her without her ever knowing who and what I truly am.”

  Jag glanced at Sarah and then back at Max. “She has no more peace than you at present. I feel…loss in her. She’s lost much in her life. She’s afraid to lose more.” His gaze went back to Max. “She needs you as much as you need her. Give her a chance to help.”

  “If I claim her and then fail this test, will her destiny be the same as mine is—in hell?”

  “Yes,” Jag said. “Once your souls are linked through mating, she will share your future. Which leaves you with only one option.” He paused for obvious effect. “Don’t fail this test. She is your incentive to succeed.”

  Jag inclined his head as he often did before departing a room. “I will contact you with an update soon.” And then he was gone, leaving Max no chance to respond. No chance to ask questions.

  Max scrubbed his jaw and walked to the bed, staring down at Sarah. He wanted to live for her, wanted to succeed. But what if he didn’t? What if he let her down as he had his family? What if he failed?

  He couldn’t risk that. He couldn’t. No matter what—he would see Sarah and this town through this danger. But he’d do it without claiming her or telling her who and what he was.

  She murmured a soft something in her sleep. God, he loved her, he realized. He’d always heard a mate’s love was instant, and he knew, in that moment, that it was true. He wouldn’t cause her pain or put her in jeopardy for his own comfort, his own hope.

  But Jag was right. Sarah was incentive enough to keep him fighting. New resolve formed and he vowed to defeat his beast and pass this test.

  Vars heard Adrian’s summons and it infuriated him. He’d called on Cain for hours with no response and now he was being called by the idiotic fool he wanted to destroy. Vars materialized in the cabin at Adrian’s summons, but given the circumstances, found these confines
more frustrating than his prison below. Fury consumed Vars as he brought the blond-haired, leather-clad, arrogant bastard into his sights.

  “I asked one thing of you,” he ground out, with anger lacing the words. “One. You were to ensure no one left this town. Cain will hear of this, and he will know you for the idiot you are!”

  Adrian laughed, a mocking sound that bit at Vars’s nerve endings. “I am not the one who is imprisoned beneath the ground, begging for my freedom like some pitiful dog begs for a bone. Consider yourself lucky I’ve lowered myself to dealing with the likes of you. Cain knows what I have done and it serves a purpose. One broader than your small mind can apparently wrap around. The man is no man, he is one of Raphael’s Knights of White. The woman is his mate. The Knight will lead his army here to their own destruction.”

  Vars would have choked the life out of Adrian if he wasn’t stuck in his pathetic shrine of powerless confinement, his abilities drained by the magic he was pumping into Allen right now. He bit back his anger and ground out a nasty reply. “The woman has connections to the other side, you fool. She will try to stop Allen before I get my energy sources.”

  Adrian waved off the words. “The woman will be dead in a few hours. Now—” he crossed his arms in front of his body “—I understand you need these energy sources by the next full moon. You have only ten days. Do I need to fetch your Shadow Stones for you so we are sure it gets done right?”

  Adrian couldn’t do the job if he wanted to, and Vars took pleasure in that knowledge. “For centuries now, each eldest son of the Shadow Masters’ families have placed their souls in a magical Shadow Stone. In exchange, I endowed them with great health and wealth. The Masters will not release their souls from the stones to anyone but me, their royal master. They will find me through my bond with Allen, and he, and he alone, will receive their souls. Quite simply, you are not worthy of the stones. So, do your job. Protect this town. Protect Allen. Or is that too much for you?”

  A sudden rush of menace filled the air, Adrian’s eyes flashing yellow and red. “Do not test my limits, Vars, or you will remain beneath the ground.” A second later Vars found himself thrown back into the pit of his prison, fire consuming him, pain—however momentary—scorching his every muscle. When the flames subsided, Vars pushed to his feet, vowing to make Adrian pay for his actions.