by Ciara Graves
My biggest fear now was I’d never get back to normal. I’d constantly be exhausted and worn out. Continuously feeling like I’d been hit by a truck. I even had another strange episode today when I was supposed to be surveilling Jenella as she went about her business in town. I’d been staked out across the street at the diner when suddenly the waitress grabbed my shoulder and asked me if I was alright. When I said I was, she said I hadn’t moved in over an hour, and I’d started to mutter under my breath. No idea what I was saying. I’d paid and left in a hurry. Happy Bowen wasn’t around to catch me this time.
All I remembered was hearing Mom scream again. Nothing else. If Damian caught wind of how messed up I really was, he’d be ordering Bowen to take me home. Worse, he might show up himself and risk getting his ass arrested by the packs for trespassing in their territory.
Whatever was happening to me wasn’t even my biggest concern. Rafael and the other Feds were. I felt them watching me. I half expected him to try and take me in during our meeting, but he didn’t. Then again, why would he apprehend the one person in this territory that might actually be able to help him?
“Mercy?” Bowen asked as he knocked on my door.
“Yeah, coming,” I replied and hurried out of the bathroom. I barely took four steps when my knees buckled, and I crashed to the floor with a curse.
Bowen was inside a second later and had me up and on the couch.
“If you had a key, you could’ve just let yourself in.”
“I was being polite. Evidently, I was mistaken.”
I shoved him away from me. “I’m just tired. It was a long day.”
“I’m sure it was.” He walked away from me, but I blinked, and he was back again. “Your talk with the Fed. How’d that go?”
“Went great. We both seem to be on the same page.”
“Jenella?”
“Or Rubella. One or the other. There’s something not adding up yet.”
“Do you need to speak with Jenella? We haven’t yet. It might not be a bad idea—what?”
“Your eyes are glowing,” I told him. “What’s got you all ticked off?”
“Rafael,” he hissed.
I gave him a bored look.
“I told you, you couldn’t trust him.”
“He already told me the Feds think I’m involved. It’s fine,” I said.
Bowen’s eyes darkened, and he bared his fangs. “It’s not fine. I’m sick of you using that word like a bloody shield!” he ranted, losing his temper, which was rare for him to let me witness. “I overheard him and his partner. They want to bring you in.”
“They’ve wanted to do that for years.”
“No. From what I heard their orders are to find you and arrest you. You can’t trust him. Honestly, we shouldn’t even be here. You’re putting yourself in too much danger.”
“Wait,” I said, finding the strength to push to my feet as I walked toward him. “Were you… were you spying on us this evening?”
“I told Damian I would look out for you and that is exactly what I’m doing.”
“And why don’t I believe you? Rafael is not a threat to me.”
“Why? Did something happen between the two of you I haven’t heard about? He’s a Fed. Wake up and see for yourself that being anywhere near him is dangerous for you. His orders are to take you in. What’s to stop him from doing it?”
My anger flared, and I almost told Bowen exactly why Rafael wouldn’t turn me over. As much as neither of us wanted to admit it, as much as we were running from it, something changed between us that night in his apartment. No matter what I told myself, I couldn’t shake the feeling of warmth that struck me whenever I thought about him. Or how in those days at his apartment, the pang of loneliness that had started creeping in more and more abated.
“Well?” Bowen demanded.
“I saved his life,” I finally settled on, knowing how pathetic it sounded. “He knows it, and he owes me. He won’t turn me in. You had no right to spy on me.”
“I have every right when you’re running around with that filth!”
I was across the room and standing toe to toe with Bowen, hand raised ready to deck him. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what. He’s a demon. You and I both know where they all spawn from.”
“Rafael is different,” I snapped, remembering how angry Rafael had gotten the one time he assumed I compared him to the demons of the Underground. Criminals most of them. “And you will not spy on me again.”
“I take my orders from Damian.”
“Since when do you take any orders?” I replied.
He hissed quietly.
“In fact, why are you even listening to Damian this much? You’re supposed to be here helping me out. You’re freaking royalty.”
That touched a nerve. He flinched as if I had smacked him. One of these days he’d have to give me the story of why he ran away from his heritage.
“I’d like to see you not get yourself killed.”
I wasn’t buying that. “No, there’s something else. No vampire would take orders from a half-breed.” I should’ve seen it before, but I’d been so wrapped up in the potential werewolf war and the curse affecting me so severely all of a sudden. Why was he even so worried about the Feds getting hold of me? He had no idea who I was, not fully. “Damian is demon just like Rafael.”
“Did it ever occur to you I’m not doing this for Damian?”
“Yeah, but then what—”
His arm was around my waist and his lips pressed to mine.
At first, I was too confused to react, but then I found myself leaning into his chest and wrapping my arms around his neck. For a cold natured vampire, it felt like we were burning up, the longer the kiss lasted.
I waited to feel the same intensity as I had with Rafael. If I did, I could finally shut up the nagging voice inside me that said I was far from finished with that demon. The kiss went on and Bowen held me easily, except the emptiness always inside me was prominent. And though he was a damned good kisser, it just wasn’t the same.
He drew back, eyes glowing red, and sighed. “That is why,” he whispered. “I’ll leave you to rest. Drink your tea and sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Bowen, wait—”
Then a wind created by the preternatural speed of his departure blew my hair, and the door closed behind him with a loud click. I ran my hands through my hair, puffing my cheeks out as I waited for my pulse to slow down. My lips tingled from his kiss, and I was suddenly cold.
Bowen had feelings for me.
Maybe Gigi was right, and it was my fault I was alone.
I always turned off all sense of emotion or hope of finding someone I could relate to or be with. The second I open up just a hint, I find a demon who’s probably more broken than I am who I’m drawn to because he chases away the dark void of nothingness inside.
Then there was Bowen. Vampire royalty. I wondered if he wasn’t a vampire prince and how pissed he’d get if I teased him and called him a vampire prince. Bowen. Who I’d assumed hated me all these years, except, that wasn’t the case.
Most women would die to be with either one of them, Bowen especially.
My mind a mess, I went to the little kitchenette and filled a small pot with water, then set it on the two-burner stove to heat. As it began to boil, I mixed up the herbs Gigi gave me to help me sleep.
Impatiently, I waited to feel better. I’d lasted longer today, but it wasn’t nearly where I needed to be to see this case through to the end, or to deal with the emotional crap going on in my life these days. The water bubbled and roiled in the pot. I smiled at how that’s how I seemed to end up at the close of every day now. Roiling and confused. I was about to turn the burner off and pour the water into my mug when the door opened.
“Really? You think you can just walk back in after how you left? Nope, out right now,” I said without turning around.
The seconds ticked by, but there was no sound of the door opening and
closing again.
“Bowen?”
No reply, but someone watched me, the gaze intense and piercing.
“Look, you can’t tell me to rest and then come back here—” I paused as I glanced over my shoulder.
Red eyes weren’t what met my gaze.
Instead, a set of yellow ones glared back at me, the rest of the werewolf’s face covered with a hood and a black scarf tied around his mouth and nose.
My gun, sword, and nice new daggers weren’t on me. Even if I screamed, Bowen was probably too far away to hear me.
Shit.
This werewolf was not here for a social call. He had a sword in his right hand, probably the same one that killed Jaxton Sawyer. Guess we were asking the right questions if whoever hired this asshole sent him after me to stop me before I got to the truth. No other reason for a were to be in my hotel room.
“You sure you want to do this?” I asked, sounding disinterested.
All he had to do was attack, and he’d realize how weak I was. It was a miracle I was still standing. Thank god for strong counters.
“If I had a choice, I wouldn’t,” he replied. “You are after all quite an impressive woman.” He shrugged and took a step closer. “You know how it is, though. A name comes to you and you have to pay the bills.”
“Not a hitman, so no I don’t.” The sword was the only weapon on him I could see. Good. I studied the bit of skin around his eyes, searching for that one small detail to tell me who he was, but there was no nothing. No scars. No moles. No nothing. “You really think you’re going to walk out of here alive?” I asked, buying myself more time.
“You’re good, but I’m that much better. Why don’t you quit stalling and we’ll get this over with?”
His hand adjusted the grip on his sword, his left foot sliding forward to compensate for the move he was about to make.
Except he would never get to make it.
With a yell, hoping someone would hear, I grabbed the pot of boiling water and slung it at the werewolf’s face.
He yelped and fell back, cursing as he swiped at the hot water.
I ducked around him, adrenaline giving me enough of a boost of energy to get to the small living space.
The tonic, it was the only thing that might save me right now. Each move I made was sluggish, and just when I was about to grab the bottle, a hand reached out and snatched my shoulder.
The blade glinted off the light in the room, ready to slash my throat, but I let myself collapse to the floor.
The gust caused by the blade ruffled my hair, but I was alive.
How long I’d stay alive was a damned good question.
The adrenaline was already burning through my system and exhaustion had me crawling backward to get away as my attacker paced closer.
His eyes flared brightly. He raised the blade again.
“For all your talk, you’re much weaker than I expected. Pity, I hoped you would’ve put up a fight, at least.”
I bumped into the coffee table and froze. There was nowhere left to go. The night my parents died flashed through my mind again, how close I’d come to death then, too. Then all the other times I should’ve died. Was this how it was going to end? Murdered by the asshole I’d been hired to track down and bring to justice?
My heart thundered in my chest, and my hands warmed. The scar on my face tingled while the room around me spun.
The werewolf shook his head as if disappointed I had nothing else to say, and he stepped back, repositioning himself for the final blow.
The last thing I wanted was to use my magic, but as it had when fighting the gobs and Liam, it shoved my will to the side and took control.
The blade rushed toward my throat, but my hand shot up to meet it.
The werewolf frowned, pushing down with all his might, but the blade refused to budge past the bright white flame growing from my palm, stopping my demise.
“You’re a mage?” he snarled.
I easily rose to my feet though I had no real control over what I was doing.
“That’s why you do your research,” I replied, voice tinged with power.
With a flick of my wrist, I threw the werewolf away from me as the glowing white and gold flames spread from both my hands.
Vaguely, I remembered wondering if I was about to set the whole inn on fire, but then the werewolf charged me again, and I was sidestepping his attacks.
He was fast, but so was I.
His confused glare said he couldn’t believe I was just a mage.
It wasn’t like I was about to tell him I was half dragon. That’s what he got for attacking me in the first place. If I played this right, the case would be closed tonight, and I could go home and pass out for a month. He came at me again, but this time I grabbed his wrist and flung him around.
My fire gave him a hard shove.
He slammed into the wall, face first.
Shaking out his head, he growled, and his sword came within inches of taking off my ear.
I spun around him. A kick to his ankle sent him to his knees, and I elbowed him in the face. My fire drove each attack, but even using this little bit of magic drained me. The fight wouldn’t last for long at this rate.
Already, my vision blurred, and I stumbled over my own feet as I stepped backward to avoid the slashing blade.
My fire flickered in my hands, and I didn’t move in time to block his next attack.
His blade bit into my shoulder. I cried out as warm blood spread down my arm.
He yanked the blade back, ready for the blow that would finish me off.
I stumbled away from him, falling to the floor once again, and scrambling to grab something, anything, to defend myself with while my magic sputtered out.
I felt something small and hard.
My sword! I tucked it in my palm and turned back around as the werewolf closed in.
He spun his blade around in his hand then growled as he plunged it down toward me.
I extended mine at the same time.
With a shriek, I drove it upwards into his right side.
His missed its mark, but ended up in my hip.
He fell into the coffee table, holding a hand to his wound.
I used the couch to pick myself up. “Give up.” I struggled to give voice to the words. “Give up now, and I’ll take you in.”
“No,” he grunted, his blood staining the rug beneath him.
If he didn’t get help soon, he’d die. At this point, that was just fine by me.
“I will not be defeated by you.” He grabbed hold of a jar on the table behind him, and flung it at me.
I brought up my blade to stop it from hitting my face.
The blue glow registered the second the glass shattered, but it was too late to prevent what was about to happen.
As the werewolf limped his way toward the door, I swatted at the glowing dreamweavers landing on my arms and neck.
I knocked a few of them off, then I was on my knees as the urge to sleep slammed into me full force.
My sword clattered to the floor while I fumbled for my cell.
Half delirious, I hit the contacts menu and called someone. My eyes were too blurry to even see a name.
A growling voice answered. Rafael.
Figures I would call him.
He started talking but focusing was hard and nothing he said made sense.
“Help,” I whispered, cutting him off, blood loss and the dreamweavers attached to my neck taking their toll. “Rafael… Jaxton’s killer… at the inn…”
“Inn? Is that where you are? Mercy, answer me.”
“Can’t… sleep now… werewolf, damned werewolf…”
I hit the floor and remembered nothing else.
Chapter 11
Rafael
“Mercy?” I pulled my cell from my ear. The screen showed the line was still open. “Mercy, hang on.”
Staying on the line, I bolted from my room at the hotel and out the front doors to the street.
Snow was falling again, picking up as the sun had fallen, it was now nearly a blizzard. I squinted through the storm.
Inn, she’d said at the inn. I assumed that’s where she was staying and remembered the café I met her at was on the lower level of an inn. I took off in that direction, sliding in the snow a few times and picking myself right back up. The door for the inn was halfway blocked by snow, but I barreled through it and burst inside. There was no one at the front desk.
“Mercy? Can you hear me?” I asked her frantically. “Mercy, what room? I need a room.”
“Seven,” she breathed into the phone.
I searched in vain for a sign and found one pointing to the second floor for rooms five through seven. Taking the stairs two at a time, I reached the second floor and only had to look for a few seconds to find a trail of blood along the hardwood floor. There was more smeared along the wall, leading all the way to room seven. The door was wide open, more blood covered it, too.
“Mercy?” I called out, shoving my phone away.
There was no reply, and I walked in, reaching for my pistol under my coat. I made it two steps when I spotted Mercy’s boots sticking out from behind the chair.
Time seemed to slow then move too damned fast as I ran to her. Blood covered her shoulder and hip, oozing all over the rug and floor beneath her. Her eyes were shut, face almost serene. I checked for a pulse and frowned when I spotted the calming blue glow. There were three worms on her neck, white wisps of webbing covering wherever they touched. I’d deal with them in a minute, but I had to make sure she was alive. I found her pulse, and it was strong. She was breathing, but after shaking her gently and tapping her cheeks, she remained knocked out. I picked her up carefully and placed her on the couch then pressed one hand to the wound at her hip which was bleeding worse than the one at her shoulder.
“Mercy,” I growled louder, hoping to jar her awake. “What the hell happened to you?”
There was no response. The scar on her face was an angry shade of red, and her skin was warm to the touch, much as it had been the night she fought the goblins. If I called for help, the Feds would end up with Mercy in their possession. Glancing around for an idea of what to do, I found her cell on the floor and picked it up. It was still on the call for us, so the screen was unlocked. I checked her contacts and saw Bowen’s name.