The rasp of his stubble burned over her too-sensitive lips. Blinking away the tears, she eased his grip away from Ingrid’s wrist, her fingers bloody from his cheek. “Come home with me, Will. Take me home.”
His hand sprang open. His eyes were still tightly ground together.
Ingrid’s body collapsed on the floor and she winced as she drew her injured arm up.
“Don’t move,” Lena warned her, sliding her arms around his neck. “Stand up, Will.” She breathed the words in his ear. “Take me home. Your home.”
He looked up then, the madness leeching from his gaze. The beast had not faded completely though. He looked at her with hunger, a madness of its own, and her nipples tightened painfully against the rasp of her linen chemise.
“Yes,” she whispered. “When we get home.”
“Home.” His voice was hoarse. He looked around, realizing he was still kneeling on Ingrid. Then he looked up and something dark flickered through his gaze.
“Put the rifle away,” she cried out as Will shoved her behind him.
There was no chance of stopping him if he decided to go for Jack. Not now. Pleading with her eyes, she tried to slide her arms around Will’s waist. Anything to slow him, to remind him of his humanity.
Jack slowly lowered the rifle. “Didn’t think you could do it.” He nodded sharply at her. “Five days.”
“Five days,” Lena promised, her body relaxing with a sigh of relief.
Jack glanced warily at Will. Whatever he saw on Will’s face it made him take a half step back. “You’d best go.” Another glance, toward Ingrid. “Because I can’t guarantee I can talk her off the edge.”
***
The fury that had kept him moving began to fade by the time they reached the surface. His weight was too much for her to bear alone.
“Come on,” Lena said in a cheerful tone. “Not much farther.” She took a desperate look around. The warren was a good half mile. In these streets, with Will unable to defend himself, it was a dangerous half mile.
Will staggered against a brick wall, the blood on his side drying. He’d never make it all the way to the warren. Lena bit her lip, then glanced toward the small side street where he lived these days. She’d never been inside, but she knew its location.
“This way,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist and trying to guide him toward the stairs that led to his door.
A pair of boys smoked cheroots on the base of the stairs. A year or two younger than Charlie, she didn’t like the way they looked at her.
“Hey there, lady. Why don’t you ditch the old man and come sit with us?” One of them called.
No way past them. Will stiffened as if he’d heard the insult, and she stroked the lean muscle of his back. “They’re only boys,” she whispered. “No danger.”
She hoped.
Raising her voice, Lena looked the one who’d spoke dead in the eye. She’d faced down blue bloods and humanists. This was only a boy, trying to impress his friend. “Here now. Care to earn some coin?”
“How ’bout I offer you some tin?” Another smirk.
Lena grabbed Will’s shirt. “Don’t you dare.” Stepping forward, she kept a wary eye on him. He might be dangerously close to collapsing, but if the fury overtook him, it might be enough to rouse him to the killing edge. “I need a message delivered to my sister.”
The other lad tipped his chin up. “Who’s your sister?”
“Blade’s wife.”
Both boys stilled. The one who’d given her grief paled and leaped to his feet. “Didn’t mean naught by it, miss. What do you want us to say?”
“Tell her Lena’s at Will’s house. That she needs to come.” Will chose that moment to slump and she swayed dangerously with him.
The other lad stepped forward to help.
“No!” she cried as a snarl curdled in Will’s throat. The boy froze. “Don’t touch him. Don’t touch me. He’s not quite himself at the moment. Just run my message.”
Whatever they’d seen in Will’s face they didn’t even question her about the coin. Blade’s name carried weight here. Within seconds she was alone, facing the hurdle of the stairs.
Her own body screamed with exhaustion. Lena finally got Will to the top and shoved the door open. He hadn’t bothered to lock it. The pair of carved daggers in the door indicated who this house belonged to and not even the bravest thief would dare cross the threshold.
Holding him under the arms, Lena kicked the door shut with her ruined slipper. She’d lost the other in the tunnels and could barely feel that foot for the cold. “Here now,” she murmured, guiding him up against the door. Her vision swam. “Stay here whilst I fetch a lantern.”
Will slumped. “On the stove.”
She saw the outline of the stove against the pale shine of the moon through gauzy curtains. It took a minute to light, then a merry glow lit the room.
Lena looked around. “Goodness, Will. You do realize you can buy furniture?”
There was nothing but a small cot in the corner, draped with a pair of patchwork quilts, a table, and two chairs and the bare necessities of the kitchen. The apartment was small. Almost as small as the one she’d shared with her brother and sister when they first took to hiding in the ’Chapel.
“Surely Blade pays you,” she muttered in an appalled tone.
“He pays me.” Will took a step toward the bed and swayed dangerously. “Don’t have much need…to spend it…”
Lena leaped forward, catching him around the waist. His weight hit her hard and she staggered backward, her knees hitting the cot. They both went down, Will a heavy, crushing weight on top of her.
Her face was buried in his shoulder. Lena wriggled higher so that she could breathe, then collapsed back with a gasp. “Will! You’re crushing me!”
No sign of movement in his face. He breathed slowly and she realized he was in that almost unconscious state that followed severe exertion. Shoving at his shoulder, she managed to slither out just enough that his weight was no longer crushing.
Tugging his shirt out of his waistband, she craned her neck to check his wound. A bloody crust covered it. Touching his ribs tenderly, she checked for any signs of injury. By this stage there was little she could do. The virus would congregate in the wound site and do more than she—or even a doctor—ever could.
Satisfied that he wasn’t mortally injured, she collapsed back against the pillow. The chill that seemed to pervade her bones was still there. And Will was burning with heat.
Snuggling against his chest, she pressed her cold lips to his neck. The heat from his body made her feel slightly better, though the nausea from earlier had passed, thank goodness. Lena blinked sleepily. She could barely keep her eyes open. The weight of exhaustion hit her hard and she barely had time to wonder if her message would reach Honoria before the blackness took her.
Twenty-one
Morning sunlight streamed through the curtains. Lena blinked, pain stabbing at her too-sensitive eyes. She was so thirsty, her mouth bone dry. “Where am I?”
A shadow moved on the edge of vision. Lena shot to alertness, her heartbeat slowing down when Charlie grinned at her.
“She’s awake!”
Honoria materialized, her face white and pale with lack of sleep. Her hand slid over Lena’s forehead, deliciously cool. “Charlie,” she murmured. “Could you fetch some more water? And something to eat?” The last question was directed at Lena.
She nodded sharply. Her stomach growled at the thought, twisting with emptiness.
Honoria held a glass to her lips. Cool water wet her dry tongue and she gasped greedily at it. The door shut behind Charlie as Honoria settled on the edge of the bed.
“Drink it slowly,” Honoria said. “You’ve been asleep for a long time.”
By the time she’d drained the glass she was feeling margina
lly better. Looking around, she recognized her old room in the warren.
“Will?”
“He’s still asleep.” Honoria stroked a hand over her damp hair. “Lena, your temperature’s abnormally high. You’re burning with fever. How do you feel?”
She considered her body. “Hungry?”
Concern flashed through Honoria’s dark eyes. “What happened? Can you remember? All Rip could tell us was that he heard a whistle of distress and then Will was gone. We found your carriage turned over in the street, but no sign of either of you. Blade and Rip searched the tunnels but lost Will’s scent trail. Someone had sprayed the area with some sort of chemical that obliterated smell.”
Everything that had happened flashed through her mind. She opened her mouth. Then shut it. She had sworn that she would speak of the humanists to no one. And she didn’t dare get her sister involved.
Tears sprang into her eyes, her emotions strangely raw. “Honor, if I asked you a question, would you answer it?”
“Of course.”
Their eyes met. “Was Father a humanist?”
Stillness radiated through her sister’s body. “Why would you ask such a thing?”
“It’s true then.” Lena’s voice hardened and she struggled to sit up. “What else did you think was best kept secret from me? Father’s work for Vickers? The truth of what he was really doing?”
Honoria stiffened. “Where did you learn of this?”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s all true, isn’t it?”
Something old filled Honoria’s eyes. “Yes. I don’t know how much you’re aware of, but it’s true. In the last years of his life Father grew dissatisfied with the way of the world. He started working on a cure for the craving for Vickers, but in his own time he researched a blue blood’s weaknesses. He wanted to discover methods of destroying them.”
Lena pressed her hands against her face. Everything that Rosalind had told her was correct.
Honoria eased a tentative hand on her shoulder. “Lena? You’re not angry at me? I did as I thought best. The information is dangerous. I was only ever trying to protect you both.”
“You should have told me.” As soon as she said the words she realized how familiar Honoria’s statement sounded. They were all excuses she herself had used. A similarity she never thought she’d ever have shared with her sister. They were so different at heart, and yet she couldn’t deny that Honoria would risk her own life for her and Charlie without pause. Sliding a hand over her sister’s, she squeezed gently.
“Lena, what happened in the tunnels?”
A world she could never reveal. “Someone kidnapped me. I’m not sure who. Will came after them and saved me.”
The story was far too brief to appease her sister and they both knew it. But whatever guilt currently flayed Honoria, she didn’t dare question the statement.
“Do you think I could see Will?” Lena asked softly.
“He’s asleep.”
“Just to check on him.” She’d thought him lost. The urge to make sure he was safe and alive was suddenly a crushing need. “Please.”
Honoria sighed. “I’ll allow it. But only because I understand what you’re feeling.”
***
Honoria eased a hand over her sister’s forehead, smoothing her damp curls out of the way. Though she’d left Lena sitting in a chair beside Will’s bed, when she’d returned with more water, she’d found her curled up on top of the blankets asleep, her fingers entwined with his.
Blade’s arms slid around her waist from behind and he rested a chin on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re troubled,” he said simply.
Pressing a finger against her lips, she led him out of the room and eased the door shut behind her. Though he arched an eyebrow in question, she shook her head and led him upstairs to her workroom.
“What is it, luv?” he asked, frowning as he closed the door behind him.
Nobody would hear them up here. Honoria crossed to her desk and tugged a heavy book down from the shelf. She opened it to the page mark and pressed her finger to the spidery script. “Read it.”
Blade squinted at the page, his lips moving slowly. “Don’t understand. This is the first stages of the loupe virus and its effects.”
“I was studying it in order to try and find Will’s cure,” she admitted. “The first sign of the loupe is a fever. Headaches, hot and cold flushes, the sweats…”
He understood immediately.
“She’s burning up,” Honoria whispered. “She shouldn’t be that hot, not without severe signs of discomfort, but all she feels is hunger and thirst.”
Blade’s face paled.
Honoria bit her lip. “There’s more. Did you know that the loupe is an extremely virulent disease, and yet there are few verwulfen around?” Heat burned in the back of her eyes and she stroked the page in front of her. She’d come up here to read more as soon as she first suspected what was going on. “Blade, the statistics for surviving the initial fever are extremely poor. Perhaps one in fifteen makes the transition. In Scandinavia and Germany, only the strongest warriors are allowed to be infected. They must prove themselves in a test first, to ensure that they have the strongest chance of surviving.” Her vision blurred. “This is why no verwulfen is allowed to mate with a human. Oh God, what have I done?” Her words faded to a whisper, an ache burning in her chest. “I should never have allowed her near him. I should have realized. I should have—”
Strong arms tugged her close, burying her against his chest. “I’ve a feelin’ nothin’ we done coulda kept ’em apart.” He stroked her hair. “Hush, luv. Ain’t your fault. You couldn’t a known. There’s so little information ’bout the loupe goin’ round. And who knows, she might be strong enough.”
Honoria hiccupped a sob. “The strongest warriors, Blade. And most of them don’t survive.”
“Then,” he said, tipping her chin up toward him, “we need to work out what she needs. How to ’elp ’er.”
The thought penetrated where no false comfort ever could. This she could do. She grabbed the book and dashed the tears from her eyes. She hadn’t been able to save her brother from the craving virus, but she’d be damned if she’d let her sister’s life fade.
“Sit. Read,” he said, pushing her into a chair. “I’ll fetch a pot of tea and somethin’ to eat. Then I’ll check on them.”
Honoria’s eyes were already racing across the lines on the page. “Thank you.”
***
The world beneath her moved. Lena blinked sleepily. Arching her fingers, she dug them into the soft body beneath hers and yawned. Her pillow threatened to dislodge her and she grabbed onto the sheets.
Will rolled onto his side, blinking warily at her. Thick slabs of muscle covered his chest and shoulders, and for a moment, the urge to run her hand through the hair on his chest was almost irresistible.
Grabbing at the sheet to stop it from dropping too far, he stiffened. “We’re at the warren.” A frown. “What happened?”
“Don’t you remember? You collapsed,” she said, “and Blade had you brought here. You’ve slept the day away. How are you feeling?”
His gaze drifted past, toward the water jug.
“Here,” Lena said, hopping off the bed in her nightgown and pouring him a glass. She held it out to him, but he grabbed the jug instead and tilted it up. The muscles in his throat worked, rivulets of water pouring down his jaw and into the hollow of his collarbone.
Heat burned between her thighs and she gripped the cool glass hard. Sheer longing was almost a knife to the chest. She had promised herself that she would speak to him if he survived, tell him how she felt, but suddenly she was nervous and tongue-tied again. The way he always made her feel.
She, a woman who could twist a man around her finger with a sim
ple smile if she chose.
A crack appeared in the glass. Then another. Lena looked down in astonishment as the glass shattered, pieces crumbling to the rug. Blood welled from her fingers.
Will lowered the jug, his gaze dropping to the glass. “Bloody hell, Lena.” He leaped out of bed, moving with the same economical grace that always drew her eye.
An excess of golden skin. Naked skin. Lena’s eyes widened. She had a second’s grace to drop her gaze before he swore and jerked the sheet around his waist, tucking the edge in.
Oh my goodness.
Anatomy books could not even come close to picturing the truth. The heat flushed out of her face. She’d caught only a glimpse of his member, half aroused and enormous, bobbing from the thick thatch of dark hair that nested it. The breath caught in her throat. There was no possible way they could fit together…
“Here,” Will snarled, taking the remains of the glass from her and tearing a piece off the sheet. He dipped it in the water jug and wrung it out, then dabbed tenderly at the cut on her hand. “What happened?”
“It cracked in my hand,” Lena said distantly. A shiver of need swept through her, igniting desires she’d kept under lock and key in her heart.
Will hesitated.
“What is it?”
“There’s a piece of glass in there.” A frown drew his eyebrows together. “Lena, can you not feel that?” A shivering stroke over something in her hand.
She looked away from the broad, naked expanse of his chest and saw the piece of glass sticking out of her hand. As soon as she saw it she felt the acid bite of pain and bit her lip. “A little. It doesn’t hurt very much.”
“Lena, look at me.”
Into whiskey warm eyes with their impossibly thick lashes. She leaned forward, resting her free hand against his chest, feeling the delicious slide of silky-soft skin beneath her fingertips.
Will sucked in a breath. Then his gaze dropped and pain throbbed through her hand. “Got it,” he said. Dabbing at the cut, he examined it for any sign of glass and then tied another strip of sheet around it firmly.
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