Roc took one last swipe over her soft skin. The sweet tang of her blood lingered on his tongue after he swallowed. Looking down, he watched her skin grow, covering the small wounds and turning pink as layer upon layer of new flesh formed.
Satisfied, he released her. His heart pumped heavily. His cock stretching inside his jeans. A faint blush darkened her cheeks and he knew she wasn’t unaffected by the brief contact either.
His beast sat up. Vulnerable.
If that’s all that he had, he’d take it. He would use that attraction to keep her and find a way to show her he knew how to take care of and protect his mate.
He ripped open the car door, vaulted over the top of the car and wrenched her door wide.
Livie gaped at him. She flinched backwards when he reached in. Refusing to show her how much that hurt, Roc retracted his claws.
He crouched in front of her, turning her until his legs framed hers.
“I should have checked your injuries. I’m sorry.” He ran gentle hands up and down her legs, paying close attention to the leg that had taken the shotgun shell.
The material at the back had been completely torn away. She gasped loudly when he brushed her calf with his fingertips. Sharp daggers stabbed him in the stomach.
Roc lowered his head to her knees, shocked at the wetness in his eyes. The bastards didn’t care what shape Livie and her sisters were in as long as they were alive and could control their Elements.
A fist sized section of her calf was still healing. He didn’t know how she’d managed to walk. He knew the skin, bone and muscle would heal completely. It didn’t matter.
She should never have been injured.
Keeping his touch whisper soft, he said, “Are you hurt anywhere else?” He knew she wasn’t. All of her other injuries had healed during the car ride, just as his had. He asked anyways, he needed a moment to regain his composure. To feel her warmth under him. To draw in her scent and listen to her heartbeat. To surround himself in Livie.
“I’m fine,” she said in a voice that shook slightly. Her hand grazed the hair on the top of his head.
Roc held his breath, afraid to move. She had reached out to him.
A door slammed. Mac and Sela appeared next to the car, dressed in clean clothes, all signs of blood gone.
“We’re going to get something to drink.” Mac said.
What the hell? Mac didn’t look at Livie, his eyes on Roc alone. Sela frowned at Mac, refusing to budge when he tried to drag her along with him.
“How is she?”
It took a minute before Roc could figure out who Sela meant.
“Rea’s fine. Totally unconscious, but that will work in our favor when we put her in the wheelchair to board the plane.”
Sela nodded, looked at Livie and bit her lip. He thought she wanted to say something, but Mac growled low and pulled her away.
“Sela?”
Her face deathly pale, Livie stared at the edge of the door, not her sister.
“I’m sorry.”
Roc watched Sela frown, muttering to Mac as he continued to drag her along. What had that been about?
Livie shifted her legs, drawing them back into the car and away from his touch. She kept her bad leg held out at an angle, more than likely so it didn’t rub on the edge of the seat. It would take some time before that amount of damage healed fully.
“I’ll stay with Rea while you go get cleaned up.”
He reached out before he withdrew his hand without touching her. She wouldn’t look at him. He didn’t blame her.
“Right,” he sighed.
Grabbing clean clothes, he scented the air, unable to detect anything remotely threatening, he headed around the corner to the bathroom.
It didn’t take him long. A few wet paper towels removed the noticeable blood. The rest could wait until he had a chance to shower.
The gray t-shirt pulled at his shoulders and the jeans bagged around his waist. They wouldn’t impede his movements and that’s all Roc really cared about.
He exited the dingy room, anxious to get back to Livie. It didn’t look like she had moved other than to hold her sister’s limp hand.
Roc picked up the clothes Mac had found for Livie and held out his hand. Mac and Sela should be back any minute. He wanted Livie back home as soon as possible.
Livie took the clothes, purposely ignoring his hand as she slowly got out of the car. He firmed his lips, but didn’t say anything.
“Take care of Rea.”
Without looking at him, she made her way to the edge of the building. She paused for a moment. Roc stiffened, testing the air, unable to find anything to alarm her. She turned the corner and disappeared from sight.
He tracked her movements with his hearing, relaxing a little when the bathroom door closed behind her.
“I got you a water.” The bottle hit him in the chest.
Unscrewing the top, he glared at Mac. “What’s with the attitude towards Livie?” Mac was anything, but subtle. “She saved our bacon back there and you know it.” He didn’t choke on the words.
Mac held Sela tight to his side. “She cut it a little close, don’t you think?” His thumb stroked over Sela’s shoulder.
Roc lowered the bottle. The hair on his neck bristled. “I didn’t notice you doing anything to stop those assholes.” Mac winced and flushed. “If it hadn’t been for Livie, we would have all been screwed.”
He shoved his shoulders back, for the first time feeling a sense of pride. In her. His mate. He may not have been able to protect her, but she had certainly held her own. Hell, she’d taken out every bad guy as well as everything in that alley and at least one building.
His mate had some serious skills.
“I know,” Mac ran a hand through his hair. He looked at Sela, his gaze softening. “I can’t stand to see you in pain.”
She dropped her head on his chest. Her words came out muffled. “I know. I’m guilty as well. It kills me to see you hurt. I know you’ll recover . . .” she shook her head.
“And this is somehow Livie’s fault?” Roc demanded, furious.
“No!” Sela whipped her head around. “It’s not. At all. There’s moisture here, but I froze or something, I can’t . . .” She swiped a tear off her cheek. “I couldn’t do anything to help.”
Mac gently caught another tear as it tracked down her cheek. “Damn it to hell, none of us could.”
It appeared they each had their own demons. He’d find a way to slay his. Livie could swing as many swords at him as she wanted. His life had no meaning without her.
“Is she still in the bathroom?” Roc nodded absently to Sela. She patted Mac’s chest. “I need to talk to her. If I know Livie, she’s probably tormenting herself right now.”
Hell and damnation. Sela was absolutely right. Goddamn demons.
Roc waited until Sela turned the corner before he punched his best friend. Mac took the hit square on the chin. Roc knew he could have avoided it if he wanted.
“Satisfied?” Mac wiggled his jaw back and forth.
“No.” Roc shrugged. “Don’t ever treat Livie like that again.”
“I won’t. I’m sorry.”
“Tell Livie that.”
Mac nodded. “I will.” They both glared at the edge of the gas station. What was taking so long? “Mates.” Mac growled the word, but Roc knew his eyes were tender as he said it.
That about summed it up.
Can’t live without them and . . . can’t live without Livie.
Sela raced around the corner wide-eyed. “Livie’s gone.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Livie huddled in a corner of the tiny motel room. The walls had been white at some point, but years of neglect had turned them gray with a multitude of suspicious looking stains that someone had made a halfhearted attempt to wipe away.
A rickety bureau stood in one corner, next to the single bed. Above the hard mattress, the single window had been painted shut.
More like glued shut
to prevent its occupants from finding another exit when it came time to pay.
A thin sliver of pale light crept into the room from the gap where the door to the miniscule bathroom refused to close completely.
Not the worst place I’ve ever been in.
Certainly not Roc’s comfortable home either.
Choking back a bitter laugh, Livie tightened her arms around her legs and rocked slowly back and forth. She ignored the musty, smoke drenched smell coming from the carpet. After one look at the stained and worn bedding, she’d decided she’d have less chance of catching something on the floor.
She rested her cheek on the top of her knees.
Her mother had obviously been right all along.
She was a coward. Totally unlovable.
She turned her face to muffle the sob. The walls were paper thin. She couldn’t risk anyone hearing her. A woman alone in a place like this was bad enough, but if anyone heard her . . . she’d already kneed one asshole between the legs on the staircase. The last thing she needed right now was to fend off another predator.
Predator? Like a werewolf?
She grasped a handful of hair and yanked. Hard. She couldn’t seem to stop that internal voice. It wouldn’t leave her alone or give her just a little peace.
After abandoning the stolen truck, she’d walked for miles and miles before the approaching night forced her to find shelter. Roc would never be able to track her scent in this dump.
If he even bothered to search for her at all.
She released her hair, gripping her legs as tightly as she could, as if she could somehow squeeze all of the pain out.
God, she hadn’t hurt like this in . . . she’d never hurt like this. Even as a child, her mother’s hatred hadn’t shredded her into pieces. She’d had Sela and Rea to bond with.
Sela didn’t want anything to do with her. Heck, she could barely look at Livie. And Rea’s expression when she realized Livie’s mark was active . . . her stomach twisted. Horror. As if Livie had become some type of freak.
Why hadn’t she learned?
She’d thought she knew better. Better than to trust. Leave herself open. Vulnerable.
For one moment, one stupid, incredible moment, she’d actually thought she might be able to have a life. Someone to love. Someone to love her.
Roc.
Gasping, tears fell in a steady stream down her cheeks.
Maybe she should thank the Order? If it hadn’t been for that confrontation, she would probably still be fooling herself, sinking deeper and deeper into the fairytale.
But really, what had she done that was so awful?
Did they hate her because she was a coward? So afraid to use her Element that she had to be backed into a tight corner before she would use it?
She had called upon the wind to help them. Hell, she’d been the one to save them in that damn alley. Didn’t that count?
Blood pouring down Roc’s chest. Rea lying limp in his arms. Sela crying. Mac shielding Sela as bullets thudded into him.
A sob escaped. They had each done their best, while she’d faltered. She could have saved them from a single shot. IF she had simply braved her fears sooner.
So disgusted with her, Roc wouldn’t meet her gaze afterwards. Could she really blame him? He was a predator through and through. He didn’t hide from his enemies.
No wonder he wouldn’t look at her. How awful for him to have such a spineless wimp for a mate.
After their encounter in the desert with the Order, he had taken such tender care of her. Licking at every tiny scrape and bruise.
He’d had to force himself to touch her this time.
Bile rose in her throat and Livie thrust upwards, slamming the door into the wall as she bent over the toilet. She vomited what little she had in her stomach, continuing to dry heave for several minutes.
Moving like an old woman, she clung to the edge of the sink, using the thread-bare cloth to wipe her face and neck. The cold water felt good. She rinsed the rag, washed her face again and then simply held the material over her swollen eyes.
She trembled, pressing her fist to her mouth to muffle the sobs.
She’d fought him since she’d met him. Now she would give anything to feel Roc’s powerful arms holding her close once more.
Why was she so unlovable?
Wrapped up in herself, blind to everything else, Livie tried to hold the pieces of her that remained together.
The door to her room crashed open.
Exhausted, reflexes too slow, Livie didn’t get a chance to turn halfway before the world went black.
****
She blinked heavily, eyelids sluggish to respond. A low groan escaped her lips when she tried to roll over.
Damn, that hurt.
Her left side from her rib cage to her upper thigh ached. That couldn’t be good. At least it meant that she’d been injured recently. Eyes still mostly closed, Livie frowned as she ran her hand over the tender area to determine the amount of damage.
Shit.
She yanked three tranquilizer darts out, one between the ribs and the other two from her waist. Her fingertips encountered several bumps from more healing puncture marks. Now she knew, tranquilizers did work on werewolves. And their mates. No telling how long she’d been out.
Very, very not good.
She forced her lids to open. Her vision blurry, it took several minutes before the room came into focus.
She lay in a single cot, bare mattress pad, metal frame. The room itself was about ten feet square, the walls a desolate gray. A single bare light bulb dangled from a frayed cord.
How long before that starts on fire?
Wind wouldn’t do her any good if a fire started in here.
Wind.
Livie swallowed the lump in her throat. She’d been down that path already. It hadn’t done her a bit of good. And now look at her – caught. She really did not have time for any kind of a meltdown. Not if she wanted to escape.
What she needed was a good plan. Unfortunately nothing came to mind. Livie eyed her bra and panties.
Okay, find some clothing.
Great. She had a place to start. She sat up on the cot. All right, so she had a place to start and . . . that appeared to be about it.
She stared at the metal door opposite the cot.
Well, she had to at least try.
After twisting the knob futilely several times, she sank back down on the cot, shocked at how weak her legs felt. She ran a hand through her hair. She grimaced. A total rat’s nest.
How long had she been out?
The metal knob squeaked, its hinges grated as the door swung in. She met soulless dark eyes. Livie gasped in recognition as the dart hit her in the stomach then her world went black once more.
****
Roc threw the chair against the wall. It smashed into tiny pieces, leaving a large hole in the drywall.
It matched the others in his dining room.
“Jesus, and I thought your living room was bad.”
He snarled at Mac and tossed another chair. It hit the exact same spot as the last one and continued through to the kitchen on the other side of the wall.
“He’s not listening!” Mac called out.
“Make him,” came the abrupt reply. “She can’t come back to this.”
Mac grunted, rolled his shoulders and jumped him. Caught off guard by his best friend’s attack, Roc lost his breath as he hit the floor.
Mac dug his knees into Roc’s chest. He leaned down, fangs gleaming. “You ready to listen?”
Roc snapped his own fangs, lifted Mac with his arms and tossed him to the other side of the room. He rolled lithely to his feet, crouched slightly and pounced.
They hit the wall and their combined weight, along with the current damage to said structure, sent them through the fragile plaster and into the hall.
A huge fist shifted his head sideways. Roc spit out some blood and returned the punch.
“Damn it all, Sela! I to
ld you to stay outside!!”
With the next hit, Roc caught sight of the two figures standing just inside his front door. He leapt backward, putting space between the fight and the women, but he wasn’t about to settle down.
Two days!!!
Damn near fifty-two hours since Livie had run.
He was losing his mind.
Despite her use of water from the gas station sink, Roc had managed to find her trail. It took a while, sorting through all the city scents, but he’d managed to find the abandoned truck Livie had used.
He roared, grabbing Mac by the neck of his shirt and throwing him down the hall to land on the bottom of the stairs. Sela’s soft cry followed him as he leapt after Mac.
It enraged him every time he thought of that fucking hell-hole of a motel where he lost her scent. After questioning the guy in the room next to hers, Roc knew the Order had her. He still couldn’t figure out how they had masked her scent.
He’d traced the stench of the men who had taken her to a small airport. Even he couldn’t track an airplane.
Mac kicked out with his legs. The force propelled him through the wall behind him and into the living room. He landed on top of the debris that had once served as his couch.
Roc surged to his feet, yanking out a metal coil from his shoulder.
Mac stomped through the new man-sized hole. “Roc, you gotta listen man.”
Roc howled, jumping forward with his toe-claws extended. Mac side-stepped him at the last moment and he sailed through the wall again, enlarging the original hole as he went.
His head hit the oak newel at the top of the stair railing. It broke off, rolling down the hall while the rest of the rails split, breaking into sharp splinters when he landed on the stairs.
His ribs hit the edge of one tread, the crack of the bones loud enough to be audible despite the continued cracking of the wood.
“Mac! You have to stop this right now. Those were his ribs.”
Mac stormed into the hall, the hole large enough that his shoulder didn’t touch the sides now. “You were the one who wanted me to jump him!”
Sela glared at her beloved. “I asked you to get him to listen, not break his bones!”
Fur, Fangs and All (The Elementals Book 2) Page 18