Roberto’s dark eyes narrowed on me and his jaw ticked. After a beat, his heated gaze traveled to Maverick. “Will you give us some privacy?”
I tensed, wondering if Maverick would actually leave me unattended with that creep.
Maverick snorted. “So you can enchant her? I don’t think so. She said she’s not working here anymore. Just give her the money owed and let’s be done with this.”
I relaxed and almost sagged against Maverick.
“Wrong answer.” Roberto reached behind his back and pulled out a gun.
“Really?” I said dryly. “What is it with me and guns today?”
Before we could react, Roberto shot Maverick three times and he dropped to a knee beside me with a groan. It all happened so fast, I barely had time to blink.
“Rick!” I yelled as I dropped with him, my ears still ringing from the blasts. “What can I do?”
He clutched his chest and gasped, “They’re wooden bullets.” He coughed and blood spurted from his mouth. “One is grazing my heart.”
I reached for his chest when Roberto grabbed my arm and hauled me up. “Maverick!”
“Octavia,” he grimaced, trying to stand, but wobbling and falling back to his knees. “Let her out,” he directed, almost too softly for me to hear.
I dug my heels into the grimy floor and struggled as Roberto dragged me toward the back of the club. I tensed and pushed with my mind, hoping to free the phoenix. I was certainly scared enough; she should be willing to come out, but not even a flicker of life stirred within. Roberto lifted me over his shoulder and I flailed in his arms. I needed to bring the phoenix out, but I didn’t know how. Not while I was panicking.
“Let me go, you fucker!” I shrieked.
Undeterred from my verbal tirade, Roberto continued on his trek to the back of the club, his shoes making squelching noises from the sticky floor as he left Maverick bleeding out in the middle of the dance floor, all alone. I felt a soul-crushing amount of guilt for dragging him here when he knew we shouldn’t have come in the first place.
I struggled against Roberto as he half-carried, half-dragged me into the back room, through the dressing room, and into his sad little office where he dumped me on the commercial-grade carpeted floor, which carried an array of weird stains of its own.
“Stay here while I take care of your friend,” he sneered. The slimy club owner ran a hand through his greasy black hair, the gold rings on his chunky fingers glinting off the sickly fluorescent lights. He slammed the door and locked it behind him with a key. My eyes darted around the room, even though I knew there were no windows or other doors through which I could escape. For all intents and purposes, I was sealed in like a sardine.
I raced through possible rescue scenarios in my mind. I had my cell phone, but what good would that do me? Nick was dead, and Tristan and I had never reached the exchanging phone numbers part of our friendship—or whatever it was we had.
But … there was someone I could call. Killian.
It was probably a bad idea. Quite possibly the worst idea in history, since Tristan and Killian obviously had bad blood, but this was an emergency. They would just have to make an exception, especially when Maverick’s life was on the line as much as mine. Tristan would understand.
I pulled out my phone and looked up the shifter’s phone number. When I found his name, I frantically pressed the call button and waited.
After a few rings, I heard a gruff voice answer. “Hello?”
“Killian?” I whispered into the phone line. I wasn’t sure how acute the vampire’s hearing was, so I wasn’t taking any chances.
“Octavia?”
“I need your help.”
I quickly divulged the details about my location and what the situation was, and begged him to save Maverick at all costs. He said he’d be there within thirty minutes. I wished it could be sooner, but this was L.A. and traffic was a bitch. I only hoped Maverick could stick it out that long.
I sat on Roberto’s rickety computer chair and bounced my leg nervously, waiting for someone to show up – whether to kill me or save me. In the meantime, I kept urging the phoenix to erupt, but she was stubbornly quiet. I felt impotent and useless. What was the point of having all this fantastical power if I couldn’t even tap into it when lives depended on it?
The doorknob jingled and I sat up straighter, prepared for whatever was on the other side of the door. It’d only been twenty minutes since I called Killian. The intruder might be him, but he would have had to catch all the green lights in L.A. if it were.
The door opened and Roberto sauntered in. Avoiding any pleasantries or small talk, he grabbed my arm and dragged me back to the front of the club as I wriggled, kicked, and yowled. He threw me to the ground in the middle of the dance floor and I gagged at having my face that close to the grimy floor.
“Thank you for finding her,” an unfamiliar voice said. “The money has been transferred to your offshore account, as discussed.”
“Thank you,” Roberto replied breathlessly, winded from dragging my noncompliant ass through the club.
I dared to look up at the mysterious voice and coldness spiked through my body as I came face-to-face with my killer.
The familiar dead blue eyes that had haunted me every night for six months stared back at me unflinchingly, the brightness a stark contrast to his dark hair and beard. He still wore the hooded outfit he’d worn when he attacked Carlos today.
My mind blanked, and all I could do was sit on the dirty floor of NightCrawlers and stare stupidly at my would-be murderer. How many times had I dreamed of this moment and fantasized about the various ways I would hurt him, possibly even kill him? Yet now, I was paralyzed by fear and indecision, all my plans for revenge evaporating like a mist. It was a very different feeling when you were finally faced with a situation, neck-deep in reality, and you had to put your money where your mouth was.
“Hello, Camila.” The man smiled. “Long time no see.” He had crooked bottom teeth and one of his top front teeth was yellow.
“Stay away from me,” I growled, which came out much louder than I expected.
He squatted, placing us eye level with one another. “No worries, Camila. I won’t hurt you.”
“You—You killed me!” I sputtered indignantly.
He nodded. “That I did. But I won’t do it again. I promise.” His breath smelled of cigarettes and onions and I was unable to suppress a grimace.
“You tried to kill my brother,” I muttered in a daze.
He smirked. “Ah, him, right. No, I wasn’t planning on killing him. I was going to use him as bait to draw you out. I was hoping to catch you at NightCrawlers when the time came, but you’re a sneaky one.” He wagged his finger at me playfully. “So, I had to find another way.”
He wasn’t going to kill Carlos … okay, he’s safe. I took a deep breath and part of the tightness in my chest eased.
“We have a long road ahead of us. We should get going.” He snapped his fingers at me and started to stand.
I scrambled back away from him with wide eyes. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” I seethed.
He straightened and looked down at me. “You will, because I have someone who is very anxious to meet you. And you don’t want him coming for you, trust me. I’m your better option.”
“Fuck off.”
“Octavia,” I heard Maverick gasp my name and I turned to see him strung up by his arms on rusty iron manacles mounted to the wall. He didn’t have any new injuries, but Roberto was approaching him with a glass of clear liquid. “Run!”
Roberto threw the water in Maverick’s face and his face sizzled as if he’d been doused in fire. Maverick’s agonized wail resonated in the silent nightclub, the sound of clanking chains tinkling as he gripped the chains holding him up.
“Maverick!” I tried to stand and run to him, but my murderer stood in my way. “What was that? What is Roberto doing to him?” I yelled, demanding answers.
“Relax, it�
�s just a little holy water,” my murderer smirked. “He’ll heal. But I’ll make sure he suffers until you come with me.”
I remembered Echo telling me about the effects of holy water on vampires. Without blood, Maverick would not heal from those wounds.
Tears streamed down my face as I realized I was out of time and choices. Unless I allowed them to continue torturing Maverick, my only option was to go with this mystery person.
I held up a hand to placate them. “If I go with you, will you let him go without further injury?”
The killer shrugged noncommittally. “Sure.”
I frowned. “That doesn’t inspire much confidence.”
He sighed. “Fine, Camila. We will let the little vampire go free with his lustrous hair intact. Are you happy?”
“No! Octavia, don’t—” Maverick yelled, but Roberto punched him in the stomach, shutting him up.
“You have a deal,” I whispered. “But let him go first. I don’t trust that one.” I pointed to Roberto.
“As you wish.” He bowed and turned to the nightclub owner. “Release him.”
Snarling, Roberto reached for Maverick’s chains and started to unshackle him. As he unclamped the second arm, Maverick dropped to the ground in a heap, the wooden bullets still lodged in his chest and his face burned and smoldering from the holy water.
Roberto kicked him in the ribs one last time for good measure. “Go. You’re free.”
Just then, the doors to NightCrawlers busted open with a resounding crash and I released a breath. Killian stormed in, followed by five of his pack members.
“Someone call?” Killian taunted and he walked forward, cracking his knuckles.
“You have no business here, shifter!” Roberto left Maverick and stormed toward where the others were entering his club.
“Octavia is my business, so you see, I do have business here,” Killian snapped as he stood toe-to-toe with Roberto, towering over the greasy club owner. “Now, hand her over now, or we’re gonna have big problems.”
As they continued exchanging words and slinging insults, I peeked over at Maverick’s unmoving body and started to inch closer to him.
“You think you’re so slick, Camila,” my murderer whispered in my ear. “You have two warring species protecting you, and they don’t even know who you really are.”
I jumped, startled at how stealthily he’d approached. “They know exactly who I am!” I lied. I wasn’t sure if Killian knew and I didn’t plan on telling him anytime soon. But this guy didn’t need to know that.
He stepped closer to me and I got another waft of his fetid cigarette stench. “You win this round, but I’ll be coming for you. Eventually, he will have you.”
My brows furrowed. “Who is he?”
He clicked his tongue. “Don’t worry about who he is. For now, worry about me. The name’s Murdoch. I’ll be back, Camila.”
“Wait!” I yelled, and he paused mid-step. “Why the flowers? What’s the purpose?”
He raised a brow. “What flowers?”
He actually looked perplexed. Murdoch was either a phenomenal actor who deserved an Oscar, or he wasn’t the one sending me the black dahlias.
Obviously deciding his business with me had been concluded, Murdoch spun on his heels and darted straight to the shifters, pulling wickedly sharp blades from inside his hoodie. The shifters barely had time to react as they maneuvered and fought not just Murdoch, but Roberto.
Ignoring them, I ran to Maverick, sliding on my knees and grabbing his burnt face.
“Maverick?” I whispered. “Please be alive, please be alive …” I murmured as I visually inspected him. It wasn’t like I could check for a heartbeat.
“I’m … okay,” he grunted and reached for my hand. “Run. Get out of here.”
“What? No! I’m not leaving you here! I called Killian for help; he’s here now. Everything will be fine. What can I do to help you?”
He tried to take a breath but struggled. “The bullet that’s grazing my heart—I need to get it out.”
I nodded. “Okay,” I rolled him over onto his back and lifted his shirt, revealing smooth muscles punctured by three holes. I found the wound closest to his heart and dug my finger in without a second thought. It wasn’t like I hadn’t done it before. Today, no less.
The tip of my finger touched the bullet but I couldn’t get it out, not without making a bigger hole in the wound.
“I can’t pull it out. The hole is too small,” I grimaced.
He grunted. “That’s what she said.”
I smacked his arm. “Be serious, Maverick,” I gritted.
He swallowed a few times. “You have to carve it out. Find a knife.”
Bile rose to my throat and I thought I was going to hurl. Not again.
I looked around the surrounding area and couldn’t see anything sharp enough to carve out a bullet. The others were still engaged in a brawl and I didn’t want to look further to see who was winning. The bar was on the other side and I’d have to cross the dance floor to get there, but I was sure there would be a knife there.
“I’ll be back.”
Instead of creeping and attempting to be stealthy, I bolted across the floor. I didn’t have the luxury of time to waste trying to be a ninja.
My feet slapped hard against the floor and I vaulted over the bar top and sailed onto the floor on the other side. I quickly took inventory of everything and searched for a knife. After what felt like the longest two minutes of my life, I found one and hauled ass out of the bar. Darting across the floor, I narrowly avoided being caught up in the fight and made it back to Maverick, who looked about ten degrees north of uncomfortable.
“All right, I got the knife.”
“Good.” He nodded slowly as if it pained him to move. “Widen the hole around the bullet, but be careful. If the bullet pierces my heart, it’s ashes to ashes for me.”
I gulped.
“And don’t worry about hurting me. I’ll heal.”
Trying to keep the bile down, I reached out with shaky hands and lifted the knife to his chest, placed it above where it needed to go, and stabbed him. He flinched but said nothing else as I worked the knife around the bullet, trying to be careful with his heart, and trying to pretend this was a magnificently realistic game of Operation.
Once there was enough space, I dug inside the wound and plucked out the bullet. Maverick sighed heavily as soon as the wooden impediment had been released. I dropped the bullet immediately, my hands sticky with his blood.
When the gaping hole in his chest didn’t start to heal right away, I started to freak out. “Did I do something wrong? Why isn’t it healing?”
Maverick clasped my trembling hands to calm me down. “I just need blood. I’ll be okay. Relax, you did good, Octavia.”
I peered over my shoulder and saw that Murdoch was nowhere to be seen. Some of the shifters were on the ground, groaning and injured, and Killian held Roberto aloft by the throat, the club owner’s snakeskin shoes jerking in the air. He was going to kill him, and I didn’t feel compelled to stop him. I turned back to Maverick and found him dozing off.
I slapped his face softly, trying to wake him up. “Stay with me, Rick. Don’t fall asleep.”
He murmured something inaudible in response. I lifted his head and placed it on my lap.
“Come on, Maverick, Tristan will kill me if I let you die. I mean, you’re already dead-ish, but you know what I mean,” I babbled as I stroked his golden hair.
Suddenly, I looked at my wrist and had the most absurd idea ever. Far worse than that time I thought acid washed jeans were back in style.
I brought my wrist to Maverick’s lips, urging them to open. “Bite, Maverick. You need blood, so take some of mine … just not too much, because I’m iron deficient. But feed.”
He groaned beneath me, shaking his head. “No …”
“You won’t make it back to the house unless you feed. I’m … giving you permission. Just be gentle.” Though I k
new my wisdom was sound, I cringed at the thought and wanted him to hurry up so we could get it over with.
Maverick froze beneath me and I knew he was considering it. He couldn’t make it home the way he was unless Killian carried him, and well, that wouldn’t end well. Tristan would be pissed that he allowed himself to get this banged up.
I could tell the moment he decided because he gripped my wrist, opened his mouth, elongated his fangs, and I felt something sharp pierce my skin.
Two deep pinches and then … euphoria.
My body relaxed and I tilted my head back as warmth flooded my body, the feeling building until I teetered on the brink of an orgasm. I rocked back and forth, succumbing to the sensation of release, and with each draw of blood, it only heightened the feeling. Every pore and molecule of my skin tingled with an electric fire until I thought I would explode from the ecstasy.
Then suddenly, the feeling was gone. Maverick pulled my wrist away from his mouth and I moaned in protest.
“Don’t stop,” I pleaded as he licked the dribbles of blood rolling down my arm. “Please,” I begged.
“Octavia,” Maverick breathed. His voice was so close it stirred the hair that had fallen in my face. With a start, I realized my eyes were closed. I opened them to see Maverick kneeling before me. The burn marks on his face were gone, and the holes in his chest were healed. He was like brand new.
“Thank you.”
The fog on my mind lifted and I blinked a few times, my gaze falling to the two puncture wounds on my wrist. My hand clamped over my wrist guiltily and heat rushed up my neck and face. I’d practically had an orgasm while Maverick drank my blood. Great. As if I didn’t have enough to be embarrassed about.
“Hey, are you two okay?” Killian said as he approached us.
“I didn’t do it!” I shrieked contritely as I clutched my wrist to my chest.
Killian frowned. “I didn’t say you did anything. I was just asking if you were okay.”
Maverick eyed me warily, then looked at the shifter. “We’re fine. Thank you for the assist.”
Phoenix Burn (From the Ashes Trilogy Book 1) Page 11