by Nina Croft
He watched as Connor left the room then turned to look at Latham who still lay on the floor, Jack standing guard over him. Sebastian’s fists clenched as a black wave of hatred rose inside him. He crossed the room and kicked Latham savagely in the side. “That’s for Anya,” he said. He kicked him again, feeling the crunch of ribs. “And that’s for my goddamn house.”
“Sebastian.” Jack’s softly spoken word, held him back.
He turned to stare at the vampire. “Jonas is dead, and we still don’t know how bad it is back at the house, and this man is responsible.”
They’d managed to take out the unit sent after them, but not before the house had been destroyed. Tasha was sure none of his people were dead, but there were still some trapped in the rubble.
“I know, but we should get out of here.”
Sebastian cast another look of loathing at Latham, who lay moaning, clutching at his ribs. “Kill him,” he growled.
Jack pursed his lips. “He might be able to tell us something. Tasha still might have family out there.”
Sebastian wanted the man to die. Now. He’d been going to take Anya’s brain. If they’d been even minutes later…
He forced himself to think straight, put aside his personal feelings. “Tasha, it’s your choice.”
Tasha turned from where she still hovered over Anya. She looked at Latham, and Sebastian could see his hatred reflected in her eyes. She bit her lip. “I want to see him die so badly, I can taste it. But you’re right—he might be able to tell us something. I suppose we should take him with us.”
Sebastian’s gaze searched the room for something to tie him with, but before he could move, Latham pulled a gun from inside his coat.
Sebastian went still, every muscle tensing. The gun wasn’t aimed at him or Jack, but at Tasha where she stood hovering over her sister. Beside him, he heard a low growl rumble from Jack’s throat.
“I’ll shoot her,” Latham said. “Back off, let me go, and she’ll live.”
Sebastian held himself rigid. He glanced sideways at Jack and saw the darkness rise up in his eyes. Jack nodded an almost invisible movement of his head and moved in a blur of speed.
At the same time, Sebastian leapt towards Tasha, grabbing her and hurling her to the floor. A gun roared, and a sharp pain sliced through his side. He turned. Jack no longer appeared human, his eyes burned green fire, his lips drawn back revealing razor sharp fangs. He had Latham in a death grip, arms around his chest, pulling him back against his body. The gun clattered to the floor, but it was too late to save Latham now. Jack wrenched back his head then lunged, ripping out his jugular, spraying crimson blood across the white-tiled walls.
Jack spat and released the body. It crumpled to the floor at his feet.
Sebastian stared for a long moment, but Latham was clearly dead. He turned his gaze to Jack. “Right then, we’ll question him later, shall we?”
Jack stared back, the darkness still glowing behind his eyes, and Sebastian tensed his muscles ready for the attack. Then a shiver ran through the vampire, the muscles of his face relaxed, and he looked away.
Sebastian released his breath. He pressed his hand to his side; his palm came away stained crimson.
Jack crossed to where Tasha lay on the floor and crouched down beside her. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I don’t think Sebastian is though.”
They both turned to look at him.
“It’s nothing. I think.” He stripped off his shirt. The bullet had entered through his back, close to his waist and exited through his front. He wiped the blood away with his shirt. The wound was bleeding copiously, but he didn’t think anything important had been hit. “I’ll be fine once I shift.”
He moved to the table where Anya lay, still unconscious.
“I’ll take her,” Jack said.
“No, I will.”
He scooped her up, ignoring the twinge in his side and held her close against his chest. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Chapter Ten
She wasn’t dead.
It was becoming a recurring thought on waking. Anya lay completely still. Afraid to try to move in case she couldn’t. Afraid to open her eyes in case she saw something she really didn’t want to see.
What had happened? Latham was going to take her brain. Cut her up. Her eyes flew open, and she stared at the ceiling.
“Anya?”
She recognized the voice. Sebastian Quinn. Rolling her head to the side, she stared into his eyes. He looked back, searching her face.
“You’re awake,” he said. “How do you feel?”
She thought about it for a moment. “I feel okay. What happened? I thought…” she trailed off. She’d thought Latham had killed her. She’d felt the prick of that last injection.
“We got there in time. You were dead, but we gave you an adrenaline shot. It brought you round.”
“Why?” she asked.
He frowned. “Why what?”
“Why did you bring me round? Why did you save me?” She paused for a moment, but she wanted no more lies. “I took your people. One of them died.”
“You saved the other two.”
“I was sent to kill you. I would have shot you that night.”
He shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so. I don’t think you wanted to kill me.”
Fury and guilt battled inside her. “Do you think that mattered? No, I didn’t want to kill you. I never wanted to kill anybody.”
“So why did you?”
She took a deep breath and faced the truth. “Because I wanted to live.”
He sat back in his chair and sighed, ran a hand through his already rumpled hair. “We’ve all done things we’d rather not do, in order to survive.”
She looked at him, curious. “Have you killed?”
“I’ve killed to protect myself and to protect my pack. It’s really no different.”
Anya searched his face, found compassion and pity. She didn’t want his pity. She wasn’t sure what she wanted, but pity came nowhere close. He was so beautiful, even the exhaustion stamped clear on his features couldn’t detract from that beauty. She remembered that first sight of him; how it had pulled at something deep inside her.
She dragged herself up so she leaned against the headboard. Weakness still lingered in her body, but that would be from the drugs Latham had given her. Her head felt fine, her mind clear, no dull, throbbing ache that would show she needed her medication. How much time did she have?
“How long have I been here?” she asked.
“Around four hours.”
She had a while yet. Maybe they had taken Latham. Maybe he would tell them how to make the drug. “The doctor who was there when you found me—what happened to him?”
“Latham? He was killed.”
She closed her eyes, clutched the sheet in her fingers, and fought the despair that threatened to overwhelm her.
“What is it, Anya?”
She felt the mattress depress as Sebastian sank down beside her. At the touch of his hand on her cheek, her eyes flew open. He was close, so close she could breathe in the musky scent of him. He cupped her cheek with his large hand, tilted her head so she had no choice but to look at him. “Anya, tell me.”
She swallowed. “I need medication. I have some sort of genetic disease. If I don’t get the medication every day, I die.”
“We know about the pills, our doctor is working on it now. But he also took a sample of your blood. And Anya, he’s pretty sure you don’t have any genetic disease.”
“What?”
“He found traces of poison. Some sort of strychnine derivative he couldn’t identify. He thinks you were poisoned deliberately.”
“Why?”
“Probably as a deterrent to stop you from running, and a way to solve the problem if you did, or if you were captured. As long as you got the antidote each day you were fine.”
Anya turned away to hide the pain she knew must show in her eyes. Th
ey’d done this to her with cold deliberation. No doubt, they’d planned to let her die when her usefulness was over. The pain washed away on a tidal wave of black hatred. She wished Latham was still alive, so she could kill him herself.
But maybe if it was poison, they could reproduce the antidote. She forced herself to ask the question. “Does your doctor have a cure?”
“Not yet, but we won’t stop until we find it.”
She wanted to believe him, but she doubted it would be so simple. The Agency had spent years and billions of dollars doing all kinds of research; if they’d wanted her to die, they wouldn’t have given her anything easily cured. Her doubts must have shown on her face.
Sebastian leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. “We will find it,” he said. “We’ve spent too much time searching for you to let you go now.”
“You’ve been looking for me? Why?”
“Tasha found out you existed about six months ago, and we’ve been looking ever since. For you and your sisters.”
“I have other sisters?”
“At least two more, we think. We believe that’s why you were sent to kill me, we’d gotten too close. Now, as much as I would like nothing more than to crawl into that bed and forget about the rest of the world for a very long time, there’s someone who’s been waiting to see you.”
He stood up, and for the first time she noticed a blood stain on his shirt. “You were hurt?”
“It’s nothing. It will heal once I shift.”
“So why haven’t you shifted.”
He shrugged. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”
“Why?”
He came back and stood looking down at her, studying her. “The answer is—” Head down, he was silent for a moment, “—I just don’t know.” She thought he meant to tell her no more, then he sighed. “The truth is, from the moment I saw you, you called to something inside me. It’s strange, many in the pack form bonds, they mate for life, but while I’ve had women, I’ve never mated, always been alone, and been happy that way. For the first time, I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
“Oh.”
“Now you know. Think about it.” He whirled around and left the room.
Anya sat staring at the door, warmth stealing over her as she considered his words. A moment later, it opened and a woman entered. Anya knew who she was. She remembered her briefly from the Agency, and she had seen her inside Maria’s head. Natasha, her sister.
She was small, much smaller than Anya, with long red hair pulled back in a plait, revealing a pointed face and huge golden eyes. Those eyes stared into hers, and Anya was flooded with a mindful of information. More sensation than actual thoughts, she caught brief flashes of a life, running through the forest, a black-haired man with green eyes…
Natasha held her gaze, eyes wide and Anya realized her sister must be having the same experience. She shook her head, glanced away and the contact was lost.
“Sorry,” Tasha said. “I didn’t know that would happen.” She studied her, head cocked to one side. “We don’t look much alike.” Then she grinned. “Nothing alike in fact. I’m Tasha.”
“I remember.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up. Sebastian wouldn’t let anyone else sit with you. Which was interesting.”
It was, and Anya filed the fact away to think about later. Now she wanted to know about her sister. “Sebastian said you were looking for me. Thank you.”
Tasha shrugged. “I always wanted a sister.”
“Me too.”
Suddenly, Anya couldn’t keep the tears from falling. They welled up in her eyes, rolled down her cheek. That someone she had never met should care enough to come after her. The thought wiped away the bitterness of all the betrayals in her life.
Tasha hurried the last few steps to the bed. “Hey, I’m not that bad.”
Anya smiled through the tears. “They’re good tears not bad.”
Tasha’s face turned solemn for a moment. “I know.” She gestured to the bed. “Can I join you?”
Anya nodded, and Tasha climbed into the big bed and settled herself back on the pillows. She reached out and took Anya’s hand. “I predict we’re going to be lifelong friends.”
Anya bit her lip. Just how long was her life going to be? She pushed the thought away. No matter how long she had left, she could enjoy this moment. “Tell me,” she said.
Tasha’s lips curved into a grin. “Tell you what?”
“Everything. Tell me everything.”
Hours later, she drifted off into sleep, her hand still clasped in Tasha’s.
When she woke, the room was in darkness. She raised her head, and a small moan escaped her. Behind her eyes, she could feel a dull throbbing ache.
Time had almost run out.
Chapter Eleven
Sebastian stared at the doctor. “There has to be something you can do.”
Connor shook his head. “There’s nothing. I’ve never seen anything like this poison. Given long enough we could break it down, find out what’s in there, but we don’t have long enough.”
Sebastian took a deep breath. “How much time do we have?”
“Twenty four hours, more or less.”
Wild frustration roared up inside him. He turned away and punched his fist into the wall. The pain broke through the fog of rage, and he managed to force it down. He had to think clearly. There had to be a way.
“What about putting her into a coma?” he asked. “Give you time to find the antidote?”
“Won’t do any good. The poison will keep working. I’m sorry, Sebastian. Of course we’ll keep looking, but there’s just no way. Here, I’ve brought some painkillers.” He handed a packet to Sebastian. “They’ll help at the start. She’ll probably need something stronger at…” He trailed off.
“At the end,” Sebastian concluded bitterly.
He rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t believe this was happening. To find her again, only to lose her. He’d been back to the building where they had found Anya and torn the place apart, but found nothing that could help. He didn’t know what to do next, and the feeling was new and painful.
“You know there’s only one thing that could save her now.” Connor interrupted his thoughts.
Sebastian glanced into the other man’s face. He knew what the doctor was referring to, but his whole being rejected the idea. “Not yet—it’s too risky. Not until there’s no hope.”
“There is no—”
The door opened and Connor cut off his words. Sebastian turned. Anya stood framed in the doorway, dressed in a pair of his sweats and a black T-shirt. She’d showered, and her hair was still damp. Her face was pale, her eyes huge, but she smiled when she saw him.
“Hi. Tasha showed me where to find you.” Anya looked from him to Connor. “Are you working?”
Sebastian forced a smile. “No. Come on in. This is the doctor I was telling you about.”
He shot Connor a warning look. He didn’t want Anya to know what the doctor had just told him. Not yet, anyway. Connor gave a brief nod of his head.
Anya stepped into the room and looked from him to Connor, then back to him. “Has he found anything?”
Her tone was almost blank, but she couldn’t quite hide the hope, and it broke Sebastian’s heart. He kept his smile in place. “Not yet, they’re still working on it. Connor dropped in with some pills that will help for the time being.”
“Help?”
“With the pain,” Connor answered. “Does your head hurt at all?”
“A little.”
She was staring at the doctor, a strange expression of concentration on her face. Suddenly Sebastian knew what she was doing.
“Connor, get the hell out of here.”
Connor looked quickly into his face, and then hurried from the room. Sebastian turned to Anya.
“You were too late,” she said. “I’d already read him.”
Pain splintered his heart as a wave of helplessness washed over him.
“I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault. I’m just glad I had this time.”
“We haven’t given up. They’re still looking.”
She raised an eyebrow in disbelief then shrugged. “Could I have those painkillers?”
“I’ll get you a glass of water.”
He watched as she took two of the pills. “Is the pain bad?”
“Not bad, no. But if I’m going to die, I plan to enjoy my last few hours.” She sipped at the water and watched him over the rim of the glass. “I was thinking about what you said earlier, about not wanting to be alone.”
“You were?”
She nodded. “I don’t want to be alone, either.”
Sebastian took the glass and wrapped his arms around her. He held her tight, as though he could absorb her into his skin, and breathed in the sweet scent of her hair. After a few minutes, she pulled out of his arms and stepped back.
“I can’t promise you forever,” she said. “But whatever time I have left, is yours.”
Her words tore at something inside him, and Sebastian threw back his head and howled. He knew he had to pull himself together, but his wolf was clawing to be free. Wolf recognized his mate and wanted to make her his. Sebastian ruthlessly forced him down. He wasn’t ready to make that decision. He would not take that route. Not yet. Not until all else was lost.
Anya stared at him, her eyes wide, and he knew his own must have changed. She reached out and rested a hand on his arm. “Please, Sebastian, stay with me.”
He took a deep breath and nodded. “What would you like to do?”
Her eyes wandered over him, hot and hungry, and a fire stirred to life low in his belly.
“I want to make love with you,” she said. “Here. Now. ”
Sebastian glanced around the office and raised an eyebrow, but her words made the flames burn hotter. The need to stake his claim, mark her forever as his, consumed him, as though he could keep her in this life by force of will. A lie, but it hid his despair.
“I think that could be arranged.”