Heart Ache (Bound by a Touch Novels #1)

by Morgan Kearns

  “You can’t just bust in there, man.”

  Niko looked sick, determined, and royally pissed off. “She’s in there, Stephon. I know she is. I can feel her.”

  “Fine. She’s in there.” Yeah, well, she wasn’t the only one in there.

  Thump-thump.

  His heart only did that around one female. Dammit, he’d hoped she wouldn’t be here. Dealing with her right now was not a complication he had time or energy for.

  “What if she’s not alone in there? You don’t want an innocent to get hurt in the rescue.”

  Nikolai sucked in a deep breath and Stephon knew the male was considering his options. He had options of his own to consider. The beating of his heart meant he knew there was at least one other person inside the house. If she was in on this, he wasn’t sure what he would do. Could he kill his own heartmate in order to rescue Niko’s?

  “We’re going in,” Nikolai said in a low, deep, don’t-screw-with-me tone.

  Stephon nodded. “You go to Gabby. I’ll search the rest of the house. Be careful, my man. We don’t know who all’s involved in this horror show.”

  He’d barely finished his warning before Nikolai was through the door and rushing toward the back of the house. Stephon, though, wasn’t quite as eager to head where his heart told him to go. He walked slowly to the grand staircase and paused. She was up there, almost directly above him, just as sure as he stood right here, right now.

  Raising a shaking hand, he rubbed at his heart then took the stairs three at a time. He turned to the right, rounding the corner into a bedroom decorated in white lace and pink linen. Exactly the kind of room he would expect from the female who owned his heart. Two suitcases lay open on the bed in various stages of unpacking—or packing?

  He could hear her soft singing, and cautiously, quietly, made his way across the room to the open door. His heart stuttered. His throat clenched. A long leg draped over the edge of the white porcelain tub. Her long curly blond locks were piled high on her head. Her head rested against a little pillow thing and her long, black lashes formed perfect crescents on the soft pads of her cheeks.

  His mind began to imagine what was under those bubbles, and other lower parts of his body reacted to her. That was unacceptable under the circumstances. He cleared his throat, but the iPod buds in her ears kept her oblivious.

  “Elizabeth,” he said loudly. Still no reaction. “Elizabeth!” he shouted.

  Her eyes flipped open. Panic flooded her face. She stood up in the tub, shrieking.

  Holy … mother of … “Shit, female! Cover yourself!” He turned his back to her, when all he wanted to do was look, touch, savor.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” He could hear the soft splashes and whispers of fabric, and turned to answer her.

  “I should ask you the same thing,” he grumbled.

  “This is my house, my bathroom. I live here! What the hell’s your excuse?” Her fingers trembled as she hastily tied her robe closed.

  He rushed at her, pinning her against the wall. Her body was soft against his. He could feel every curve, especially those of her breasts as her breaths raced in and out of her lungs. She screamed, and he wanted to muffle those screams with his mouth. He wanted to cause her to scream in pleasure. He’d had over a hundred years of fantasizing—and he had a vivid imagination. Instead he swallowed hard and used his hand to silence her.

  “What do you know about Gabrielle Ryan?” His voice was rough with need.

  Her eyes narrowed, the blue turning electric. Then she bit the pad of his palm. He jerked his hand back. She smiled and said, “I know Natasha hates the poor human girl. Somewhere in Nat’s warped sense of reality Nikolai is her one-and-only. Why?” She tipped her head to the side and a curl lazily fell to come to rest on her shoulder.

  He released her and stepped back. Relief consumed him—for the moment anyway. He’d still have to get all the facts before he could completely exonerate her, but it seemed she didn’t know anything.

  Watching her carefully, he continued his interrogation, “Do you have a concrete room here in the house somewhere?”

  “Yes,” she said suspiciously. “My greenroom. Why?”

  “You have to show me where it is. Quickly.”

  “Oh, Goddess. She didn’t.” Her robe flapped as she took off on a run. “Stephon, follow me. Hurry!”

  Nikolai stood outside the solid gold door and cursed. The lock mechanism had been broken, its disemboweled insides dangling from the metal box. Niko jammed a fist into the wall above it, ignoring the crack of his knuckles and the stab of pain that ricocheted up his arm.

  Using numb fingers, Niko poked and prodded the door and walls for a way inside the room. Helplessness swamped him as his intestines slithered around his gut. There was a window in the door giving him a perfect view of the fragile innocent woman dying on the table inside.

  Frantic.

  He was frantic. And panicked. And quickly … very, very quickly nearing the edge of complete riotous terror. He threw himself against the door, but only bruised his shoulder.

  Again and again Nikolai pounded the door with his hands, launched his body into it. His grunts filled the air around him and he hated he wasn’t strong enough to get inside. The steady thudding of approaching footsteps made him turn. Breath panted from his lungs and he squinted to see into the darkness.

  He crouched down, ready to attack if the person coming down the corridor was an enemy. When Elizabeth rounded the corner, followed closely by Stephon, Niko couldn’t find an ounce of relief. In fact, he narrowed his eyes, his hands tightening into fists as he considered taking his frustrations out on the female standing in front of him.

  The threat of death must have registered on his face because her blue eyes shot wide and she retreated until she backed into Stephon. The male eased her behind him and planted his feet in challenge.

  “She’s cool,” Stephon informed Niko.

  “How do we get in here?” Nikolai growled at Elizabeth.

  “There’s a—” She moved toward the lock and cursed softly. The word sounded so foreign, so wrong coming from her. She shook her head. “I am going to kill her for this.”

  “You’ll have to get in line,” Nikolai muttered through gritted teeth.

  She either didn’t hear him—which wasn’t likely—or chose to ignore him and went to work on getting the door open. Her slender fingers moved deftly over the damaged entry box, sending electrical charges jumping between the exposed wires.

  Nikolai couldn’t form a single thought more than getting inside. If the room hadn’t been lined with gold he would have been in and out before the other two had even come down the stairs. As hell closed in around him, Niko knew he was present, knew he was hearing and seeing the exchanges between Elizabeth and Stephon, but felt like he was doing it from outside his body. The world seemed to sway beneath his feet, his vision swam, and he concentrated on the shallow breaths and the slow steady beat of his heart.

  “Is there another way?” Niko asked, taking her none-too-gently by the arm.

  Somewhere in the back of his brain he registered the low, threatening growl from Stephon. Elizabeth shot a quick look at the male before nodding.

  “Follow me.” She walked quickly toward a dead-ended hallway. She tipped a candelabrum on the wall and a passageway opened up. “Hurry.”

  “What is this place?” Stephon asked as they followed her into the darkness.

  “Daddy used the basement as his sanctuary. He always seemed a little paranoid, but knowing how he was killed, his cautious side wasn’t so far-fetched.”

  She shrugged, leading the way deeper into the ground. They hurried along a downward slope for an eternity. Niko fought the urge to bust out in front of the group and run headlong into the darkness.

  “After mother died, there was no one to stop me from changing things. She hated it down here,” Elizabeth explained, her robe fluttering behind her as she ran further into the darkness of the passageway. “My green
room used to be his safe. That’s why it’s lined. Natasha and Daddy didn’t get along—I think they were too much alike—so she didn’t know about the passageways.”

  She stopped suddenly, and Stephon scooped her into his arms instead of plowing her over. He held her close for a moment longer than necessary, and Nikolai could have sworn the blond male sniffed her hair.

  “This is it,” she said, struggling in Stephon’s arms. “Thank you.” She sighed when her feet were back on the ground. Her eyes were dreamy as she looked up into his face.

  “Get me in that room. Now!”

  Elizabeth’s fingers moved over various stones then she pushed a large boulder in the middle of the wall. It shifted and groaned and lifted up into the room where Gabby bled out. Ultraviolet light burned their unshielded eyes and Niko stumbled back.

  “Can we get those off?” He used his arm to protect his eyes.

  “I’ll work on it,” she said, her arm going to her eyes as well.

  While she went to work on another panel near the hole they’d just exposed, Nikolai raced to Gabby. His footsteps made squishy, slurping noises causing his insides to twist like a snake’s pit. She was bleeding out.

  Darkness consumed them for just a moment before the bald light bulbs flicked on. He could have seen in the dark, but was glad he didn’t have to. He fought the urge to gather Gabby in his arms and hug her tight. Grabbing hold of the IV, he yanked it from her arm then pressed his tongue to the wound. Fear was all he knew then. She was so close to death, he could taste it.

  “She’s bad, man.” Stephon’s fingers went to Gabby’s throat. “You’re going to have to change her.”

  Niko swallowed hard. She’d mentioned she wanted to be changed, but did she really? Could he take her choice away from her?

  “I’ll take her home and then—”

  Stephon shook his head. “There is no ‘and then’. Change her now or you’re going to lose her forever.”

  Nikolai looked down at her. Every inch of beautiful creamy skin was bruised and bloodied. He choked on the bile that hit the back of his throat. Elizabeth laid a soft, gentle hand on his shoulder.

  “Nikolai,” she whispered, “I can do it if—”

  “No!” he growled, whirling on her. “If Gabrielle is changed, I will be the one to do it.” He turned his attention back to his beloved. He stroked her hair, her cheek, her lips.

  Her lips.

  He swallowed and tried to disconnect his emotions in order to do what needed to be done. Pulling out his keys, he used the tiny Swiss Army knife’s scissors to cut the brutal stitches on her eyes, then the ones on her lips. Her mouth fell open as soon as it was able, and death rattled up her throat.

  Oh, Goddess!

  He loved her so much his heart clenched as he examined the extensive damage. Yet, if he spent the precious seconds dwelling on that, she wouldn’t get what she needed.

  Stephon leaned over Gabby’s chest, pressing his ear between her bare breasts and a loud, predatory growl rumbled around them, echoing off the walls. Nikolai didn’t recognize the noise came from him until Stephon’s baby blues flipped up.

  “Easy, dude.”

  “I’ll do it, Stephon.” Elizabeth eased him out of the way. She resumed the position, and the silence was deafening. “Almost,” she whispered. “She’s very close, Nikolai. Very close. Get ready.”

  Seconds ticked by, seconds that felt like centuries. Nikolai stood next Gabby, ready to rip open his vein as soon as he was given the okay. He watched Elizabeth. As much as he wanted to glance down at Gabby, he didn’t dare. He didn’t want to let a fraction of a second tick by. That fraction could be the difference between life and death. And with her life hanging in the balance, it wasn’t a chance he was willing to take.

  Death was not an option.

  “Now!” Elizabeth’s eyes flashed as they met his. “Do it now, Nikolai.”

  Nikolai’s fangs elongated and with a quick swipe he opened his wrist. Blood swelled to the surface and he pressed it against Gabby’s lips. She didn’t respond. He opened her mouth further and jammed his arm in as far as it would go. He squeezed the skin, making the blood flow quicker.

  “Dammit, Gabby, drink!” He stroked her neck, urging her to swallow.

  And then she did.

  The motion of her throat muscles nearly caused him pull her close and shout with joy. He jumped and had to remind himself to remain still.

  “That’s it, my love. Drink.” His voice shook. “Take as much as you need.”

  Color seeped into her features, overtaking the sickly pallor. For the first time since bursting into the room faith in her recovery dangled at the edges of his thoughts. He didn’t dare hope, though. Not yet.

  “I’m taking her now.” Without waiting for a response, Nikolai gathered her into his chest, wrapped her arms around his neck and evaporated.

  The room was cold and dark—until Nikolai willed on the lights. This exact replica of his bedroom would have to do while Gabby went through the beginning stages of her change. He laid her against the sheets and stepped back to look at her. Damn, she looked fragile. Her skin was pinker than it had been, but she was still pale—and battered and bruised by a demented female.

  This was all his fault. She’d been hurt, nearly killed, and then to top it all off, he’d changed her. Essentially finishing the job Natasha had started. He eased down next to her, careful to keep his weight away. She shifted and uttered a slight moan.

  “Shh, love. I’ve got you.” His hand shook as he placed it on her forehead. He placed his hand against his chest, felt the strong thud of his heart, and used every ounce of resolve he had to calm himself. He had a job to do. He could do this. For Gabby.

  He took her hands in his. Gently he smoothed out each joint, noticing the left ring finger was badly damaged. It bent at awkward, unnatural angles and was conspicuously missing the diamond he’d put on it. Nearly all of her nails were also missing; the remaining ones broken and torn.

  His whole body trembled with the fury that fought for release. His skin buzzed with the need to destroy something—someone. A very specific someone. He would never rest until Natasha was brought to justice.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Gabby was dead.

  That had to be the reason for the way she felt, because she was completely numb, and not because of pain. Just numb. Her brain was foggy. The sensation was worse than any hangover she’d ever had. Worse than the fogged out stupor of waking up after anesthesia.

  She began an inventory of her body. Remembering the torture she’d endured she was afraid of what she might find by poking the sleeping monster that was her body.

  An initial, tentative toe wiggle revealed no pain. She clenched the muscles in her calves and her heart skittered. Her groin area, which had ached horribly from the sadistic poking and prodding, didn’t hurt at all. Hunger pangs were the only discomfort in her stomach. Her fingertips were a bit sore, but didn’t throb like she expected. She swallowed to try and kick start her saliva glands. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

  Wait! Her lips were open. Her lips were open!

  The stitches had been snipped.

  She wanted to see if they’d been removed from her eyes as well. But what if they weren’t? And what if they were? She didn’t want to give Natasha any sign she was awake. As far as she could tell, she wasn’t tied down and would need the element of surprise if she had any chance of escape.

  A hand landed on her arm and Gabrielle jumped. Every fight instinct she had fired sending her flying up into the air. She landed in a low crouch, balanced on the balls of her feet. Her hands formed fists. A snarl ripped from her throat.

  “I’m going to kill you, you stupid bitch!”

  “Easy, love.”

  Recognition dawned. Her fear and anger trickled down her body to pool at her feet. She knew this room. She knew … Nikolai.

  He stood with his hands up in surrender, his back pressed against the wall. He looked exhausted, like he hadn�
��t slept in weeks. His face was drawn tight, his black brows pulled down in a worried scowl, and dark circles marred the skin under his eyes.

  Tears sprang to her eyes and a sob erupted. She was safe. Every muscle in her body relaxed at the same time, and she crumbled. She expected to collapse into the floor, but was drawn into the chest of the man of her dreams.

  “Niko,” she whispered.

  “Shh, I’m here. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Sweet Goddess, I’m so sorry.” He held her close, stroked her hair—

  Her hair! Auburn curls draped her shoulders, giving her a hint of what had taken place after her rescue. She circled her arms around his neck and hugged herself even closer.

  He kissed the top of her head. “Can you ever forgive me, love?”

  “There’s nothing…” she croaked. Man, her throat was dry. She swallowed and coughed a bit. “Niko, there’s nothing to forgive.”

  “You may feel differently once you learn what I’ve done.”

  He eased his arm under her knees and lifted her into his chest, her head rested against his shoulder. He held her tightly against him, stroking her back, kissing her face. She sensed a subtle change in him and looked up into his eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed, his nostrils flared with his breath.

  “What are you talking about?”

  He avoided looking her in the eye. “I’ve done something unforgiveable.”

  The strong, steady beat of his heart comforted to her. She’d thought she’d never hear it again. She put her arms around his neck and weaved her perfectly straight, pain-free fingers through his long hair. She smiled against his neck as he carried her to the bed. He laid her carefully against the pillows. He was treating her like she was fragile. She felt anything but fragile. She felt … invincible.

  She sat up, tucked her feet under herself, and took his hands in hers. “Niko, there is nothing you could’ve done that—”

  He kissed her. His lips were hard, determined, against hers. His tongue penetrated her mouth and stroked her teeth. The movement made them ache even more. Then there was a shifting, a grinding as her canines … got longer?