by Brenda Trim
"It's okay, I've got you and Larry has your friend. Don't worry. Dr. Fruge will get you both fixed up. What's your name?" the female nurse asked.
"Santiago," he croaked, embarrassed by how much he was leaning on the… witch, if his senses were correct. "Is she... still alive?"
"She's a fighter," a male voice, who he assumed belonged to the aforementioned Larry, called out from in front of them. "Don't worry about her. We're going to take care of her." Santi breathed easier with others there to help him. This was what he knew, working as a team.
He almost face-planted as he made his way up the stairs to the front porch. The scuffed blue paint of the porch wavered in his vision, making him sick to his stomach. Swallowing bile, he hoped he didn't lose his sandwich right then and there. As embarrassing as it was to admit, it was a close call. Thankfully, a couple deep breaths and the crisp night air helped clear his nausea.
Warm air engulfed him as the nurse opened the door to the clinic. This was his first time in one of the facilities and he was shocked by how well-appointed the place was. He glanced into the parlor of the old Victorian, which had been converted to a waiting room.
Rather than the metal chairs he'd seen at the human hospital where Jace worked, this place had nice upholstered chairs and sofas. There were five people seated around the room, all staring wide-eyed as he passed. He was certain he looked pretty bad. He could still feel the blood pumping out of his neck wound. The venom blocked his natural healing ability.
The nurse continued down the narrow hallway designed for a home from that time period. The wood floor was polished to a high shine and the wood paneling on the walls added a homey feel to the place. The semblance of a normal house ended when they passed through double doors at the end of the hall, opening into what looked like the clinic in the basement of Zeum. Concrete floor, white walls, steel countertops, and cabinets with glass fronts.
He wondered if the same person designed all the facilities in this area. Every clinic Jace had ever designed for them, even the human hospital, had similar features, from the spaceship light hanging down from the ceiling to the exam tables.
Glancing around, he sighed when he saw the female lying on the table in the middle of the room, relieved that they would take care of her.
"What happened?" asked a male as he entered from doors at the other side of the room.
Santiago blinked several times, trying to clear his blurry vision. Fingers flashed and snapped in front of his face before gripping his chin. "What's his name, Helena?" barked the same male voice.
"He told me it was Santiago," replied the female at his side.
It dawned on him that they had been talking to and about him. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out and then he crumpled in the witch's arms. The male easily held him up. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched his blood drip and splatter in large red drops on the white floor. Absurdly, he thought it looked like a painting by Jackson Pollock, one of his favorite artists.
Glancing upward took a ton of effort, but Santiago found himself staring into pale blue eyes on a tan face with chiseled features. "Santiago, I'm Dr. Fruge. I need to know what happened so I can properly treat you. I can see that you've got a bad bite on your shoulder. Skirm, if I’m not mistaken." The doctor hauled him to the only other table in the room. "Set up an infusion of shifter blood, canine," he ordered over his shoulder.
"Right away, Doctor," Helena replied.
"No," Santiago objected. He could wait. It wasn't as if he were going to die from his wound. The physician wouldn't allow him to bleed out completely and it took a lot more than blood loss to kill a supernatural. The female was more critical at the moment. Santi had no idea how long she'd been unconscious or how much blood she’d lost. It was no more than a trickle, and he figured that was a really bad sign. "Treat the female first."
Larry appeared in his line of vision with something silver glinting in the fluorescent light. Adrenaline dumped into Santiago's system, but he'd lost too much blood and was too weak to fight. His worry subsided as his focus returned and the blurry silver object turned out to be scissors, cutting his shirt down the front so they could peel the fabric from his body. Suddenly, Larry's eyes went wide when he saw the tribal tattoo on Santiago's forearm.
"You're a Dark Warrior," the doctor said, awe in his tone. The comment made Santi wince. When he had taken his vows and been inducted to the Dark Warriors, Zander had tattooed his arm with the mark they all shared. It was a symbol of the purpose of his life. He was on the planet to serve the Goddess and protect those who weren't able to protect themselves, and it burned to think he wasn't part of that group anymore.
"Helena, the blood, now!" Dr. Fruge ordered, placing a pressure bandage over his wound.
"Not a warrior. Treat... the female," Santiago gritted out. "The skirm attacked her first." He dropped his head to the pillow, his strength waning.
"Stay with him, Larry," the doctor ordered, walking over to a panel on the wall. Pushing a button, he spoke into the device. "Bring some vampire blood and two doses of the antivenom injection."
"Thank... fuck... you have... the shot," Santi breathed, close to passing out. He turned his head on the gurney and tried to focus on the room. The only thing he was able to see clearly was Larry, who was at his side.
"Yeah, we have it. I'm going to start an IV so we can give you a unit, or ten, of blood. I'm fairly certain you need a complete refill," the male quipped. Santi had never actually had an IV before. Jace may not be able to heal a skirm bite, but he could stop the bleeding and replenish lost blood with his healing powers. It sure as fuck was a handy skill to have when you lived and fought with a bunch of warriors. All he could do was control the weather. Who gave a fuck about that? It had to be the lamest power on the planet.
The male nurse placed a rubber band around Santi's arm, palpating his veins. "Not much blood left in there. They don't want to come to the surface. This may hurt a bit," Larry warned as he stuck the long needle into his forearm. The male moved the needle around a bit, but Santi was beyond feeling the pain.
Larry leaned over Santi, placing a monitor on one of his fingers, and was close enough for Santi to catch a scent. The nurse was a bear shifter and his wolf clawed defensively to the surface. Wolves and bears didn’t make for a friendly mix in such close quarters.
"Is she going to be okay?" he asked as he looked at the injured female.
"She is going to be fine, thanks to you," the doctor replied. Good, Santiago thought. He hadn't failed her then.
Larry placed a sheet over Santi's legs before walking to the large cabinet along the far wall. The doctor rattled off various items and Larry grabbed them, setting up a tray. Santi had been hurt enough times to know that he was about to receive stitches.
The door that the doctor had come through opened, and the female nurse, Helena, strolled through carrying several bags of blood. She crossed to the doctor, who was starting the female's IV, and dropped three bags on the bed before crossing to Santiago and doing the same. The witch then hung a bag of blood from a pole that was attached to the head of his bed, and hooked it in place.
She fully extended the long thin tube, swiping the end clean with an alcohol pad before connecting it to the piece of plastic in his arm. The cold fluid entered his veins and immediately began to clear some of the fog. Breathing became easier and his senses sharpened. Shit, he really had lost a lot of blood.
Flaring his nostrils against the astringent smell of cleaning supplies, Santi froze. He swore he smelled a thunderstorm on the air. It was wet and sultry and made him think of Tori. He was definitely losing his damn mind.
*****
Tori watched Santiago through the small window set into the double doors. She had been following him, trying to discover his weakness and was once again uncomfortable with the effect he had on her. This couldn’t be allowed if she was going to complete her mission. She had sworn to her brother on his funeral pyre that she would avenge his death, and
nothing was going to stand in her way. Certainly not her libido.
But Santiago Reyes was proving to be a conundrum in more ways than one. He wasn't at all what she had expected. She knew the lore about Dark Warriors being the heroes of the realm, but had never given it much thought before now.
It had started as an uneventful night for Santiago—until he ran across his former colleagues. She had seen the pain and longing on his face as he'd watched them from the trees. She couldn't help but admire his muscled figure as he waited in the shadows. Tight black leather pants hugged legs that resembled tree trunks. His jacket was tight across his shoulders, making her wonder how he moved in the restrictive clothing.
She didn't think he'd been aware of the number of times he’d begun to approach them, only to shrink back to his hiding place. His rich brown eyes had glittered with menace, something she hadn't understood, and she’d assumed it was further proof of his callous nature. What kind of warrior would leave his friends to be attacked when he was in a perfect position to help?
She'd become angrier at him—and at herself for being drawn to a male with no integrity, as she followed him down the street. When he'd run across the massive skirm, he didn't hesitate to jump into the fray. He'd fought ferociously, never slowing. The first time he'd gotten the upper hand with the skirm, she’d thought he had the fight in the bag, but then the skirm had turned the tables and used the only weapon he had to his advantage: his venomous fangs.
The roar that had echoed from Santi's chest made her flinch. It was as if time slowed while the skirm thrashed his head side to side while keeping his fangs lodged deep in Santi's neck. She should have been happy when red blood flew through the air, but something had lurched in her chest.
She’d wanted to jump from her hiding space and help Santiago, rather than plunging her blade into his heart. It didn't make any sense. Why she would be so upset. She was sick to her stomach over the male dying, when, in reality, she intended to kill him herself.
Firming her resolve, she moved three step in Santiago’s direction to follow through on her contract but stopped short when he leaned down to help the female. He was clearly at death's door, and the female looked as if she was already dead, yet he used all of his remaining strength to pick her up and carry her.
She worried he was going to be caught when he set off on foot. No way was he going to be able to hide the blood and gore from the humans, and, if that female was alive, he was consigning her to a fate worse than death if caught by humans. Surprising her once again, Santi stayed to the shadows and masterfully made his way to the clinic. She watched him collapse into the arms of the two nurses the moment he safely made it through the gate.
He was so disoriented that Tori had given up following at a discreet distance and was now close on his heels. She refused to allow the female to perish from the sun’s early morning rays if Santiago was unable to continue. She told herself that it wasn't because she was worried about his welfare. That male didn't deserve her care or concern.
"No," Santiago's hoarse voice sounded from inside the room. "Treat... the female," Santiago managed between halting breaths. "The skirm attacked her first." As his head hit the pillow, Tori's world tilted. Who was this male who continued to place the female's needs above his? He didn’t relax until the doctor ordered the nurse to retrieve vampire blood for the female.
She wasn't staring at the heartless male who had ruthlessly murdered her brother. That male hadn't given a second thought to her brother’s life when delivering a lethal injection of drugs into his system.
Who was this male? She had no doubt that he was responsible for her brother's death. Yet, what she was seeing in him at the moment, didn't fit what she thought she knew. Wiping sweaty palms on her black jeans, she slipped into a nearby room and slid open the window. Silently climbing out and closing the window, she took a deep breath and steeled her mind for what she knew she had to do.
Despite the fact that she had seen some good in him, she couldn't forgive him for killing her brother. He had been wrong about Miguel. Her brother hadn’t been a drug dealer. Had he?
Shaking her head, she dispelled her doubt. It had been a case of wrong place, wrong time, and he had been caught in Santiago's crossfire. It was easier to think clearly when she had space between her and the sexy shifter, and her resolve firmed.
She was going to kill Santiago Reyes as soon as he was out of the clinic.
CHAPTER FIVE
Tori shrank further into her hiding place in the shadow of the alley. Even from twenty feet away, she could tell that Santiago looked far better than the last time she had seen him. He walked straight, head held high as his ever-vigilant eyes scanned the area. He might appear approachable, but she knew he was likely armed to the teeth, and it was obvious he was ready to take on any enemy he may encounter.
The stench of urine and rotting trash fell to the background as he passed the mouth of the alley, his scent traveling on the breeze. He smelled incredible, and she unconsciously leaned toward him. Startled when he abruptly stopped and turned to look down the alley, she slipped around the corner and silently flew to the roof of the building.
Heavy boots echoed on the pavement below as she watched him stalk to the spot she’d been hiding and turn in a circle, clearly searching for something or someone. Shaking his head, he left the alley and walked into the same bar where they had danced. She wondered why he didn't go to a realm bar or club. He didn't seem the type of supernatural who preferred human contact, despite his position as a cop.
The first thing that had become clear to her during her investigation into Santiago Reyes was that he was a Dark Warrior to his core. She had seen firsthand how seriously he took protecting the realm when he had fought that skirm and saved that female.
Jumping from the roof, she flared her wings to slow her descent so she didn't slam into the pavement. Landing with a soft thud, she retracted her wings and brushed her top into place. Valkyrie was one of the few species whose wings retracted. Harpies and angels could hide their wings with magic, but they didn't disappear which meant an unsuspecting human could bump into them.
A light rain began as she crossed the street and paused outside the club. Being surrounded by so many humans made her nervous. To reveal the existence of the Tehrex Realm was every supernatural’s greatest fear, because it carried a death sentence from leaders of the realm.
Pushing through the door, she entered and scanned the room for Santi’s bald head. The scent of humanity slammed into her the moment she stepped inside. The alcohol, sweat, perfume, and arousal were enough to make her gag. How Santiago tolerated it with his highly sensitive nose was a mystery to her.
Her pulse quickened, and her anxiety rose at the thought of what she had planned. As attractive as the canine shifter was, she wasn't going to fail this time. She was going to make sure he paid for killing her brother, and she collected the bounty.
"Hey, baby, I was hoping you'd come back." A human male smiled confidently at her as she walked past. His hair was greasy and he was too short for her taste—not to mention, human.
"Not interested," she muttered without stopping.
A hand on her arm had her reaching for her weapon. "Aww, come on. Don't be like that," the human whined.
Glaring over her shoulder at the male, she snarled, "Get your hand off me or lose it."
His eyes widened and he lifted his hand. "Fine, you don't have to be such a bitch."
"Apparently, I do. Here's a hint, jackass. When a female says no, she means it. She's not trying to be coy, hoping you’ll pursue her. She will say yes if she's interested."
"What if she doesn't say anything at all?" Santiago asked from far closer than she’d expected. Turning her head, she saw that he was standing toe to toe with her.
She barely held back the shiver when their eyes met and locked. The connection between them reignited, testing her resolve. She was not going to let him get to her tonight, but she did need to make him think she was interested.
"That means she's still making up her mind. Fancy meeting you here."
He reached out and stroked her hair, wrapping it around the end of his finger before letting it go. "That's funny, because I'm pretty sure you're stalking me. You don't have to watch me from a dirty alley, dulzura. Hell, if you give me your number, I'll call you for a date."
"How about starting with a drink?" she countered, ignoring his offer. She wasn't going to be dating him and neither would anyone else. Part of that thought didn't sit well with her and had her chest tightening, but she refused to entertain the reasons behind it.
"What's your poison? You seem like a hard liquor kinda girl," Santi suggested.
"That's strike two against you. I'll have a glass of merlot," she teased with a forced smile.
He reared back and placed his hand over his heart. "Strike two? What was strike one? Please say it wasn't my two left feet," he mock pleaded.
Strike one was when you killed my brother, asshole! "You're actually a great dancer. Strike one was you thinking that shirt went with those pants." She winked, hoping he was buying her flirtatious demeanor. It had to help that it wasn't all forced, which was personal torture for Tori.
He glanced down, confusion clear on his face. "What do you mean? Black and black go together," he said, hand at her lower back, directing her to the bar. "One merlot and one Blue Moon," he told the bartender that approached.
"That's not black and black. That's navy and black. You color-blind? That'd be a first. A color-blind shi— cop," she finished awkwardly, recalling they were in mixed company.
He glanced down and tugged the lapels of his shirt. "Well, shit. Apparently, I need better lighting in my loft."
"You live in a loft?" she asked, genuinely curious. She imagined adding track lighting and turning it into her studio. From the moment she’d begun saving money, she had always pictured her studio/gallery set up in a renovated loft.