“Then send someone else in your stead. Please.”
Tynan’s sigh filled the phone line. “I need to know you can handle this. And so do you. There aren’t enough of us left to be handing duties off to another.”
A cold wind whipped around Logan. He stared up at the sky, watching stars twinkle. “You’re right. I know this. But the things I’m feeling—”
“Will need to be controlled. Remember the goal. Think of a life without hunger. A life with children.”
Tynan wanted a child of his own and had for as long as Logan could remember. He deprived himself of the joy, knowing that any child born to them would be doomed to a life of starvation and pain. None of the Sanguinar could do that to a child. Especially Tynan.
If Logan could change the lives of his people for the better, there was no other choice for him to make. He’d keep his urges in check, stay as far away from Hope as his job would allow, and do what needed to be done.
“I’ll remember,” he told Tynan. “Joseph’s warriors will show up soon. We’ll find Hope’s mate and be one step closer to the life we want.”
Chapter 13
I ain hid his car behind the Gerai house so it wasn’t easily visible from the street. Not that it was much of a street or that anyone would pass by.
He let himself into the safe house and dumped all of his supplies on the living room floor.
The baby had been crying for the last half hour, and if that smell was any indication, he was tired of lying in his own shit.
Iain wasn’t a fan, either.
He stripped out of his coat and eased the child out from under his reeking T-shirt. The mess was impressive, covering both of them equally.
Iain toed out of his boots, unfastened his sword belt, and stripped naked. He made a quick call for backup, started up the shower, and carried the child inside. He’d never before held something quite as slippery as a naked, soapy baby, so he took great care not to drop him on his head.
By the time they were both clean, the boy was screaming his head off and Iain’s was beginning to pound.
He dried the baby off, diapered him, and wrapped him up in a clean, dry towel. Then he set him in the center of a bed while he dressed in fresh clothes. His boots and sword went back on.
The child was still crying.
Iain read the instructions on the can of powdered formula and followed them to the letter. It took a while for the infant to get the hang of drinking from a bottle, and he made a soggy mess, but after a few tries, they both figured out the best way to make it work.
The child fell asleep. Iain tried to remove the bottle only to have him start sucking again.
Fine. If that was the way he was going to be, then Iain might as well get comfortable.
He sat down in a recliner and eased it back. Some Gerai would be here soon to take the child off his hands. Then he’d take care of arrangements for the mother’s body and be back out there fighting right around sunrise.
Iain looked down at the tiny life in his arms. Every detail was perfect. Once upon a time he’d wanted children of his own. He remembered the fact, though he couldn’t quite remember why he’d felt that way. Babies were too much work. Their lives too easy to end.
Still, there was something soothing about the boy. Holding him settled some of the seething rage that was always bubbling below the surface. It was probably some kind of survival instinct Iain had never experienced before—something that prevented adults from simply killing a messy, loud, stinky inconvenience.
Whatever it was, it was nice. Peaceful.
Iain closed his eyes. He didn’t think about what he’d done or what he had to do. He didn’t worry about his brothers—those who looked to him for guidance when their lifemarks became barren. He simply existed.
If his eyes hadn’t been closed, his heartbeat slow, he might not have heard the faint howl coming from the north.
Synestryn.
He’d been so concerned about caring for the child he had forgotten to consider the mother’s blood. If she was blooded, every nasty within scent of her would be on its way here.
He couldn’t take the car and run. Her blood was all over it. Gerai hadn’t brought him a new ride yet.
There was no help for it. Iain was going to have to fight off an attack and hope the kid didn’t start crying and draw attention to himself.
When Logan came back inside, he was a different man. Colder. More distant. Hope tried to find out what had happened, but he avoided her and went to shower.
She sat on the couch, flipping through TV stations in an effort not to think about Logan’s naked body streaming with hot water. The door of the little house opened, interrupting her inappropriate thoughts.
Hope’s heart jumped and she sprang from the couch, holding the remote control out like a weapon.
The man who’d come in was big. Tall. Broad. He had dark blond hair and laser blue eyes. A fine network of scars crossed his face, puckering the skin. His aura throbbed with red-hot pain, consuming the other colors. She could see faint streaks of pale silvery honor and nobility peeking out through the red.
Seeing so much pain, having it blasted into her retinas made her reel back in horror. She held up her hands to ward it off, shaking and speechless.
Sadness bowed the man’s shoulders for a second. A flash of gray-blue disappointment spread out over his aura before it was eaten up by cool green resignation. “I won’t hurt you. My name is Nicholas. Logan sent for me.”
His voice was quiet and reassuring. The fact that he stayed on his side of the room was even more reassuring.
“I’m Hope Serrien. Logan’s in the shower.”
He glanced at the hearth, where the clothing had been burned and a fire still crackled away. “You were in a battle?”
She nodded.
He started forward, only to stop himself after a couple of steps. “Were you hurt?”
Hope shook her head. “Logan was. He’s better now.”
Nicholas’s jaw tightened with a pulse of anger. “Did he . . . hurt you?”
“No. Why would you ask that?”
“I thought he might have . . . Never mind. I’ll speak to him about it.” He motioned to the couch. “Please, sit down. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Logan stepped out into the living room, his hair black with dampness. A pristine towel hung around his neck and he wore fresh jeans and a T-shirt that clung to his chest. “Nicholas. I’m glad you could come. Where are the others?”
“There’s only me. We’re stretched too thin.”
Logan nodded, his face grim. “I understand. Have you touched her yet?”
The odd question rocked Hope back on her heels. “What?”
Nicholas eyed Logan in irritation. “We’ve only just met.”
“Touch me?” asked Hope again, looking from one man to the other.
“Touch her,” ordered Logan.
Hope crossed her arms over her chest, pinning her fingers under her arms. “What the hell are you two talking about?”
“You haven’t talked to her about this?” Nicholas asked Logan.
Her voice got louder until she was almost yelling. “About what?”
Nicholas looked at her with an apology shining in his blue eyes. “I’m sorry, ma’am. You’ll have to forgive us. I know this must all seem strange to you.”
“You have no idea.”
“Just touch her and be done with it,” said Logan.
“Back off,” warned Nicholas. “Way off.”
Logan stared at Hope for a moment, then nodded his head once. “Fine. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“Please sit down,” said Nicholas. “I’ll explain everything.”
Hope sat, perched on the edge of the seat. “Make it quick. I’m tired of all the mystery already.”
“That is a problem with Sanguinar. I’ll try to clear things up the best I can.” Nicholas lowered his body into a chair across the room from her, clearly trying to come off as nonthreatening. “I as
sume you know Logan’s not human, right?”
“Right.”
“I’m not either. Our question is whether you’re one of us—like me.”
“Are you a vampire, too?”
Amusement pulled at Nicholas’s scars. “No. I’m a Theronai. My people work in pairs. One man, one woman. Only there aren’t many women of our kind left. Logan thinks you might be one of them.”
“Why does he want you to touch me?” Even asking the question hurt. She didn’t want Logan to hand her off to someone else as if she weren’t good enough for him.
“Because there’s a chance that if I touch you, my luceria will react.” He held up a wide hand. On it was a simple band that swirled with flecks of color—so many she had trouble focusing on it.
She blinked rapidly, concentrating on the lines crossing his face. Whatever had left those scars had been one hell of an opponent. A man built like Nicholas would not have been easy to hurt.
“So, can we just shake hands or something?”
“Sure. If you’re okay with that. I’ve waited a long, long time to find my partner. A few more minutes won’t kill me.”
Hope didn’t want to spend a few more minutes with him. She wanted to be back with Logan. Best to just get this over with and figure out if she was who he thought.
She might not be human. The idea was so bizarre, and yet it explained a lot. Maybe that’s why she saw auras. “If I am like you, would that explain why I can’t remember anything before about ten years ago?”
Nicholas shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s possible. What I do know is that if you are meant to be my partner, I’ll do anything in my power to make you happy. Including getting your memory back.”
His earnestness touched her. She sensed he was a sweet man. A good man.
Hope held out her hand. She couldn’t stop it from shaking. She closed her eyes, cringing at her own cowardice.
Warm, callused fingers closed around her hand. His touch was gentle, careful.
She looked up at him. He stared in rapt attention at his ring as if it held the secret to life. She didn’t know what he was looking for, but she saw nothing.
After a long moment, he bowed his head in defeat. He blew out a long, weary breath and a wave of deep blue sadness smothered the vibrant red pain for a moment before it, too, got swallowed up.
“I’m sorry to have bothered you,” he whispered, grief plain in his voice. Then he turned and left out the front door.
Nicholas had known better than to get his hopes up. She wasn’t the one. She couldn’t save him.
Pain bore down on him, crushing him under the weight of disappointment. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep going. And even if he did, even if he kept fighting the good fight and miraculously managed to find a woman who was compatible with his power, what then?
He saw the way Hope had looked at him, flinching back in revulsion. He knew his scars had either frightened or disgusted her. Not that he blamed her for the honest reaction. His appearance was shocking. There was no help for it.
He heard the front door open behind him. The heavy fall of footsteps told him it was Logan and not Hope.
“I presume things did not go well,” said Logan.
“No.”
“I’m sorry for your disappointment.”
“Forget it. Time to move on. Demons to slay.”
“Will you stay?”
The last thing Nicholas wanted to do was hang around, wishing for something that wasn’t going to happen. He respected himself too much to beat himself up like that. “Why?”
“To protect her. She’s blooded. She risked her life to save mine tonight. I fear she would do the same thing again if necessary.”
Nicholas’s opinion of Hope rose a notch. “No kidding?”
Logan nodded. “I don’t know how she managed it. There were two of us, both paralyzed. She dragged us up a flight of stairs.”
Nicholas let out a low whistle. “Strong woman.”
“Foolish woman. Her blood is too valuable to spill. I need someone who can take care of her.”
“I’ll take her back to Dabyr.”
“She won’t go,” said Logan. “At least not until she finds the answer to her mystery.”
“And what mystery is that?”
“Apparently, people she knows are going missing. She’s certain of foul play.”
“Is she right?” asked Nicholas.
“I’ve seen eight Synestryn in two nights near her home. Inside the city limits.”
Normally, Synestryn stayed out of sight. They avoided public areas, like cities, preferring suburbs and rural locations. The hunting might be sparser, but the risk of being caught was much lower.
Nicholas had to get rid of the infestation. It was too dangerous to allow demons to live among so many people. “Give me the details. I’ll take care of it.”
“And the woman?”
“I can’t take her into combat with me,” said Nicholas. “She needs to go to Dabyr.”
“We’re bound by a promise. I can make her go, but only after the cause of the missing people is determined.”
Nicholas stared at Logan. He didn’t trust the Sanguinar. Logan was way too pretty to be trusted. He was used to getting his way. The fact that this woman had managed to wring a bargain out of him was one more sign that she was one of their own.
Which meant she might be able to save one of his brothers.
“I’ll have Joseph send more men. If she won’t go willingly to Dabyr now, then we’ll keep her safe until she will.”
“And in the meantime, the other unbounded warriors can test her for compatibility.”
“Exactly,” said Nicholas.
Logan nodded. “It will be as you say.”
“Do you want to tell her, or do you want me to?”
“Tell her what?”
“What our plans are.”
Logan frowned in confusion. “Why would we tell her?”
For a smart guy, Logan was a complete idiot. “Because it’s her life. Because she’s a grown-up and gets to make her own decisions. Because you don’t muck around in someone else’s life without at least telling them you’re doing it.”
Logan smiled in amusement. “You truly are naïve if you believe that. The best way to muck around in someone else’s life is by keeping it a secret from them.”
Nicholas stared at Logan for a long time, unsure whether he wanted to punch the man or weep for him. “People are not here for your amusement. We’re responsible for the things we do to them. I truly hope you understand that.”
“You don’t have to lecture me about responsibility. I know that lesson all too well.”
“Then you won’t mind telling Hope what we plan to do so she won’t be frightened.”
Logan’s phone rang. He answered it, listened briefly. “I’ll come immediately. Before dawn.” He hung up and said to Nicholas, “I have to go. Urgent matters. You understand.”
What Nicholas understood was he was being handed responsibility for Hope’s safety and comfort. And while he was equipped to manage both, he couldn’t help but feel like Logan was using him to avoid something. Or someone.
Logan got in his van and drove away.
Nicholas sighed and turned back to the house, trying to figure out how he was going to explain everything to Hope in a way that wouldn’t frighten her or piss her off.
He told himself it was good practice for the day he found his other half. If he was lucky enough to live that long.
Krag’s Dorjan came back empty-handed.
“Where is the woman?” he asked the human he’d sent to find her.
“She wasn’t there. We searched the whole building. There were signs of a fight. Blood. But nothing else.”
If that Sanguinar had bled her dry, Krag was going to stake him out in the sun for the Solarc’s Wardens. “Where did she go?”
“I don’t know.”
The Dorjan’s failure grated against Krag’s patience. He needed that
woman. If her blood was as pure as Krag hoped, she could be enough of a prize to appease his father’s anger. Krag could return home and take his rightful place as his father’s heir.
The domain he’d scratched out for himself here was nothing compared to his father’s realm. The sources of food there were rich and plentiful, as if someone had been raising blooded human children as one would cattle. Krag wanted that power. He was the firstborn. He deserved it.
But when his father had beheld his second son—the one who could walk among humans, unnoticed—Krag had been shunned and banished.
He had to prove to his father he was worthy of his inheritance, that he could rule over his domain, destroying any rebellion or attack.
The woman he’d sensed would go a long way toward proving he was worthy. Especially if he could breed her and give his father a grandchild more perfect than Krag’s brother could ever be.
The thought warmed his blood, making him merciful. Rather than torturing the man kneeling before him for his failure, Krag drew his dagger and rammed it into the man’s heart. He fell over, a look of shock frozen on his face.
Demons snarled nearby, but did not dare to come feed without Krag’s approval.
He nodded to them, stepping back as they flooded around his feet to clean up the mess.
Krag turned to his right-hand man, a Dorjan who went by the improbable name Hacksaw. “Can you find her?” he asked his servant.
The Dorjan lifted his dark eyes from the floor. A scar bisected his lip where a piercing had been ripped out. His wide shoulders straightened with purpose and his meaty fists clenched. “I can, Master.”
Krag went to the man and pressed a finger to his forehead. He shoved the knowledge he had of the woman into Hacksaw’s head. The skin under his finger sizzled and blistered as the memories were implanted.
Hacksaw shuddered in pleasure or pain. Krag couldn’t tell which and didn’t care.
Once the information was in place, Krag dismissed him and turned away. “Don’t take long,” he warned the Dorjan. “Don’t make me wait.”
Chapter 14
Blood Hunt Page 14