by Lynsay Sands
"I do no' ken," he said at last on an expelled breath and shook his head on the pillow. "I think it means something, but I can no' think just now."
Everyone was silent for a moment, and then Magnus said, "Well, perhaps we should all take some time and think about it. In the meantime, you need to rest and heal, Scotty."
"What we need to do is place guards on Beth," Scotty countered, his voice rough with pain. "She is never to be alone. She is to go on no more hunts. In fact, she should no' leave this house until we sort out who is after her and catch them."
Beth had to bite her tongue to keep from protesting. She really, really wanted to, and if Scotty were his normal strong, healthy self, she would. But he wasn't. Scotty was in no shape to argue. He was in a bad way, and it was all thanks to her. To his trying to save her. Beth shook her head slightly, still finding it hard to believe he'd done that. She truly didn't understand the man. Nothing he did made sense to her. He didn't want her, but he risked himself to save her. Because there was nothing riskier to an immortal than fire. It was like putting a match to pure alcohol. Whoosh, up they went. It was amazing they were both still alive.
"My bodyguards and I will help guard Beth," Kira offered, although the word offered was something of a misnomer. The Russian's offer was actually more of an announcement . . . as usual, Beth thought with amusement, and smiled at the woman as she commented, "You don't appear angry about being sent on joke jobs."
Kira shrugged. "I am new one. New always starts at bottom. Is how you learn . . . and I am learning," she added solemnly.
Magnus smiled faintly. "And what have you learned . . . besides not to throw yourself on a burning immortal?" he added dryly.
"A lot," Kira assured him, and then glanced at Beth and praised her. "You are good teacher. At barn I learn never to rush in. To be patient, like you. And to be cautious, and see everything. You saw both traps before they were sprung."
"Not soon enough," Beth said unhappily. "I should have considered that there might be a second lever where Oksana fell that acted as a secondary trip for another trap once her weight was taken off. As Liliya said, everyone would rush in to help the downed person, and that is when the second trap could do the most damage."
Kira shook her head. "You cannot know everything."
"Still, I'm sorry about Oksana," Beth said solemnly. The first thing she'd asked about on waking the first time was how the Russian had fared. She already knew that Liliya had dropped the Russian Amazon's upper body when the explosion knocked her to the ground, and that she was dazed and confused when Rickart reached her and carried her out. Liliya hadn't recalled about Oksana's upper body until it was too late. Only the woman's lower body and lower arms had survived the fire, and her lower body had got pretty charred along with Beth . . . and Scotty, she added silently, glancing to the man in bed next to her. His eyes were tightly closed, his face a rictus of agony.
"Da, that was bad," Kira said, drawing her attention again as she admitted, "I no like Oksana. Was hoping for excuse to send her ass back, but not just ass."
A wholly inappropriate giggle tried to slip out of Beth, and she had to cover her mouth to hold it back. There was nothing funny about any of this. The woman was dead.
"Right," Mortimer said suddenly, straightening. "Rachel, do whatever you came up here to do. The rest of us will clear out," he announced and then added, "Magnus, I need you and Kira to come to my office."
Thirteen
The room cleared out quickly, leaving just Rachel, Beth, and Scotty. Rachel immediately retrieved five bags of blood from the refrigerator they'd moved into the room. She offered one to Beth with a small smile. "There's nothing I need do for you. More blood and some rest and you'll be good to go."
"Thank you," Beth murmured, accepting the blood.
Rachel nodded, then turned to set three of the remaining bags on the bed next to Scotty and handed him the fourth as she said, "Unfortunately, there's nothing I can do for you except offer you blood. I'm afraid you're just going to have to work through the pain of healing somehow."
Scotty grunted as he accepted the offered bag and then muttered, "It will no' be the first time," before slapping it to his fangs.
Rachel glanced back to Beth and said, "I'll check on you later. Rest now."
Nodding, she slapped her own bag of blood to her fangs as she watched the woman leave, pulling the door closed behind her.
Beth remained sitting upright until the bag was empty, and then ripped it away and took Scotty's as he removed his own. She tossed them both into the small garbage bin next to the bedside table, and then scooted forward in the bed so that she could lie down. When she did, Beth automatically turned on her side toward Scotty. It was the side she always slept on and she did it without thinking, but then paused and stared at him.
Beth almost turned the other way rather than lie facing him, but decided it might seem rude for her to turn her back to him, so she remained where she was and watched silently as he popped another bag of blood to his fangs. She examined his face as he fed. Scotty had his eyes closed, but she noticed lines were beginning to form around them, and his jaw was tightening with each passing moment. The blood he was taking in was speeding up the healing, rushing it along and increasing his pain, she realized, and frowned.
By the time Scotty switched the second empty bag for the third bag of blood, his hand was shaking, and Beth couldn't take it anymore. She hated knowing he was in such agony and there was nothing she could do about it. She was actually relieved when he tugged the third bag from his fangs and turned to peer at her rather than slap the last one on.
After a hesitation, Beth murmured, "Thank you for trying to save me."
Scowling, he muttered, "It was stupid. I'd have done ye more good had I grabbed up the fire extinguisher and sprayed ye like Magnus did afterward to both of us."
Beth grinned. "Are you suggesting you made a mistake and aren't perfect?" she asked with mock disbelief, and then gasped, "No! Say it ain't so!"
Scotty's mouth twitched, fighting to smile, or maybe fighting not to, and he turned his head on the pillow to stare at the ceiling, muttering, "Only you would dare taunt me."
Beth just watched him for a minute and then asked solemnly, "Is it very bad?"
"What?" he asked, glancing at her with confusion.
"The pain," she said dryly. "What else would I be talking about?"
"Oh." Scotty scowled at her. "Well, it is now that ye've got me thinkin' o' it."
"Hmm." Beth picked up the last bag of blood and offered it to him.
His mouth tightened, but Scotty took the bag and popped it to his fangs. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, however, when she immediately smiled.
"The tranquilizers don't work on you," she pointed out.
He grunted around the bag in his mouth.
"But I have an idea how to knock you out so you sleep through the healing."
Rather than look interested in this idea, Scotty's eyes narrowed even further.
That was gratitude for you. It was like he didn't trust her or something, Beth thought with amusement, but merely asked, "What is the extent of your burns?"
That question had him blinking above the nearly full bag at his mouth.
"Is your chest burned?" she asked, and then simply tugged the blanket down to see. Problem was, she'd tucked him into bed fully clothed. Frowning now, she commented, "That can't be very comfortable for sleeping. You'll not relax that way. Sit up."
Scotty shook his head at once, the blood in the bag sloshing one way, then the other as he did.
"Careful," Beth cautioned. "You'll tear the bag and get blood everywhere."
Scotty just narrowed his eyes again. The closest thing to a scowl he could manage at the moment, she supposed.
"Here, I'll make you more comfortable," Beth said and shifted to her knees next to him so she could set to work quickly unbuttoning his shirt and tugging it from his pants. Scotty tried to stop her, grabbing at her wrists, and she knew for
certain that he was in a bad way when she proved faster than him.
"I know you like to be in control, Scotty," she said soothingly as she worked. "But this is for your own good. Think of me like a nurse. I'm just making you more comfortable."
Beth finished undoing and opening his linen shirt, and let out a breath of relief when she saw that his chest seemed undamaged. That was something, anyway. She didn't know if it was because when he'd leapt on her, his chest against hers, it had staunched those flames and he hadn't been burned there, or if it had been only mildly burned and so had already healed, but she was grateful for small mercies as she turned her attention to the button and zipper of his jeans.
"You just relax, and let nurse Beth take care of everything," she instructed him lightly as she snapped the button open, slid down the zipper and then began to work his jeans down over his hips. "I'll have you sleeping in no time. It's the least I can do when you got this way trying to save me."
"Stop," Scotty said sharply, and she glanced around to see that the final bag was empty and he had ripped it from his mouth. "Nay. I do no' want ye to do that."
Beth sat back on her heels and peered at him with frustration. She could make him pass out and sleep through the worst of the pain with a little life mate sex. At least for a while, and she wanted to do it. She didn't like to know he was in such pain, and . . . well . . . actually, though Beth was loath to admit it, she wanted to do it for herself too. Her body was tingling at the very thought of enjoying the shared pleasure with him again. It was like a drug, and she a drug addict who'd been without a fix for two whole very long weeks.
They stared at each other for a moment, and then Beth suddenly relaxed and smiled. He'd said no, so she couldn't continue to touch him. That would feel too much like rape. However, there was more than one way to skin a cat . . . if it worked, she thought with sudden concern.
"What are ye thinking?" Scotty asked suspiciously. "Ye have a scheming look to ye at the moment."
Beth blinked her thoughts away and peered at him innocently. "I don't know what you're on about, Scotty. I was just thinking that if you don't want to be comfortable, that's fine. But I do."
"What does that mean?" he asked warily.
Beth shrugged and straightened on her knees next to him as she said, "I usually sleep in the nude."
Scotty's eyes widened, but he made no protest when she reached back to undo the ties of the hospital gown. He also remained silent when she next settled to sit on her haunches and let the gown shimmy down her arms to pool in her lap, leaving her breasts bare.
"I was badly burned everywhere," Beth told him quietly, peering down at her own chest rather than meet his gaze. She had been naked in front of a lot of men, but for some reason having him look at her in that moment made her shy. Clearing her throat, she continued, "But I healed nicely."
Beth followed the words up by slowly sliding her hands up to cup her own breasts as if to display them.
"Don't you think?" she asked, not surprised to hear her accent thickening. It always did when she was excited or angry or anxious.
"Aye." It was a husky growl.
Beth bit her lip, struggling with her unusual shyness, but then closed her eyes and tilted her head back. Trying to pretend it was him touching her, she began to squeeze and knead her own breasts and then tweaked the tightening nipples. Much to her relief, Beth heard Scotty's breathing grow heavier and more labored, and thought it might be working.
Clearing her throat, she whispered, "I remember in the garage, waking up that first time to find you leaning over me. You were suckling my breast and your hand was . . ." She broke off and moved one hand down beneath the hospital gown to touch herself, sliding her fingers gently across the moist folds.
Beth opened her eyes just enough to peek out from under her eyelids and saw Scotty lick his lips as he stared at where her hand had disappeared. She continued to touch herself for a moment, and then shifted her wrist slightly, sending the soft material of the hospital gown down her legs to lie on the bed, letting him see what she was doing.
"Do you remember?" she asked, her own voice gone husky.
"Aye," he breathed, not taking his eyes away from her hand. "Spread yer legs more."
Beth smiled with relief at the demand. She had him. At least, she thought she did. She wasn't sure. She wasn't feeling any of the shared excitement she'd experienced when they'd made love, just her own milder excitement at having him watch her pleasure herself.
"Spread yer legs more," Scotty repeated.
Beth smiled and obeyed, easing her knees open so he could better see what she was doing. The action brought her left knee into contact with his hip just above the jeans she'd tugged down, and Beth was suddenly assaulted by a confusing wave of sensation. Excitement and pain roared into her brain as one, but the pain was the overriding, overwhelming sensation and she sucked in a draft of air as it punched her in the head.
Scotty closed his eyes as Beth's knee brushed his skin and a shaft of pleasure slipped through his body, battling with the pain for attention. It wasn't until he opened his eyes again that he noticed that Beth had stiffened and stilled, her face twisting with pain.
"Beth?" he said with concern.
She breathed out slowly through her nose, and then opened her eyes, her gaze landing on his lap. When her eyes widened slightly, Scotty glanced down himself to see that the pleasure that had briefly shot through him had managed to make him semi-erect. Just enough for his penis to push its way out of the top of his open jeans.
He really should have put on boxers or something, Scotty thought, and then sucked in a startled breath when Beth leaned forward and exhaled, her breath brushing lightly over the sensitive tip. His cock didn't suddenly stand up and do the samba, but it did grow a little firmer as another shaft of pleasure slithered through the pain that had been embracing him. It was like a sliver of light in the darkness, and rather than protest this time, Scotty stilled and closed his eyes, focusing all his attention on that one beam of light.
"May I?" Beth asked, and Scotty's eyes popped open at the question to see that her hand was hovering over him, ready to touch him, and despite his earlier protest, he was actually disappointed she'd asked. Because now he had to say aye or nay, and the truth was he wanted her to touch him. He hadn't just been fighting her. He was fighting himself. He wanted her to do it. Not that he'd started out in any kind of mood for sex, and truthfully, he wasn't even quite there yet, though he was certainly interested, but the idea of escaping the pain he was in through the blessed sleep that followed life mate sex was a very attractive one.
However, Scotty could hear Magnus's voice in his head telling him to leave her alone if he couldn't claim her. Otherwise he would be using her . . . like all the other men in her life.
Scotty battled with his conscience briefly, but with every moment the pain those brief shots of pleasure had displaced returned, and he growled, "Aye."
Beth eased his jeans further open, and then took him in hand. Scotty leaned his head back with a sigh of relief as his body responded, the pleasure once again slipping through and chasing away the pain somewhat.
She gave him only two gentle strokes before he heard her moan. The sound made him open his eyes to look down at her. Beth's body was as rigid as stone, her face twisted in agony as she worked.
For a moment, Scotty was confused, and then it occurred to him that during life mate sex, the mates shared their pleasure. It was what made it so overwhelming. He now suspected whatever channel it was that opened up between the couple to allow that must also allow other sensations they were experiencing to be shared. Pain, for instance. Beth was feeling his pain, and while the pleasure she was giving him was helping to mitigate his pain, it was still pretty strong, and she was being hit with it.
Scotty half rose up then, reaching for her, determined to make her stop. But she caught his hands gently with her own, and determinedly closed her mouth over his semi-erect member. The action made him freeze, his head g
oing back as a much stronger, sharper shaft of pleasure raced through him, replacing a good portion of his pain. It was as if his brain couldn't handle the conflicting messages being sent to it, and was choosing the pleasure.
Thank God, Scotty thought as her mouth continued to slide firmly up and down, driving away the pain that had been attacking him. When the last of it had gone and he was experiencing only pleasure, Scotty opened his eyes and watched her work. She no longer seemed to be experiencing pain either, he noted, and was touched that she would have borne it for him. Most women would have moved as far away from him as they could to avoid that kind of agony, he was sure. Instead, she'd taken it to ease his burden.
Scotty slid the mangled fingers of one hand across the short hairs of her scalp, surprised to find them as soft as a puppy's fur. And then he reached for her breast with his other hand and began to fondle her as she worked, gratified to find the pleasure between them increase. But finally, he closed his eyes and just enjoyed what she was doing as they both climbed toward that darkness that would take him away from the pain without stopping his healing.
"You cannot go," Magnus said firmly. "You are to stay here until we sort out who is trying to kill you."
"But I need clothes," Beth protested, glancing between Magnus and Mortimer determinedly.
"There are clothes here in the stockroom," Mortimer pointed out. "We keep them here for just such an occasion."
"I want my clothes," she argued. "And my toothbrush, and my--"
"You cannot always get what you want," Magnus said unsympathetically.
"Rolling Stones fan, huh?" Beth asked dryly, and realized he hadn't been purposely misquoting the song only when he peered at her blankly. Sighing, she said, "Never mind. Look, I'm going a little stir-crazy here, guys. I need to get out of the house. But I also really do want to wear my own clothes. I'm not comfortable taking from the stockroom here. Not when I have my own clothes just a short drive away." Beth hesitated briefly, but then added, "And I wouldn't mind some takeout either. No offense to Sam, but I'm a meat eater. I'm not keen on kale salad and vegetable soup."
"I hear you on that one," Mortimer said dryly.