Justus turned the doorknob, gripping a large dagger in his right hand—one he kept mounted on the wall and never used. It was a frightening thing; slightly curved with a stunning black handle.
As before, the front office was empty. Justus stood motionless by the door to the lab while Simon quietly checked out the bathrooms to make sure they were empty. He was dressed in black from head to toe and dishing out sexy with a messy head of hair that only he could pull off.
Christian remained at my side, ears alert as he made hand motions to alert Justus how many men he heard in the room from the low murmur of talking. Two fingers went up.
Justus wore a sleeveless shirt and thin, black pants that allowed him the utmost flexibility. He used his hands to sense energy within the building. Simon inched beside him as they prepared to rush in. My heart galloped and I held my breath.
Everyone carried a weapon except for my guard. His weapons were his hands.
The two men who ran the day and early evening shift always left around this time. According to Simon, the mysterious third man (or woman) would arrive, concealed under a heavy winter coat with a hood. We were about to crash in on the two men.
The door flung open and Justus and Simon flashed in. There was a commotion of shouts and I followed quickly behind.
Justus transformed into a blur of muscle. I caught occasional glimpses of his sharp blade cutting through the air as he faced off with another Mage. Simon twirled his knife blade between his fingers as he stared at a silver-haired man sitting on a stool. He wore a green sweater and looked about as dangerous as a science teacher.
My eyes swam across the room toward a white curtain divider. I walked slowly to it as Christian kept his eye on Justus and the Mage.
Curling my fingers around the edge, I slowly pulled it along the track to the left when a hand clamped around my wrist and yanked me in. It was Slater, and I had just enough time to make out Page—unconscious—strapped to the examining table.
Justus still fought with the Mage and because of all the noise and shouting, nobody had heard Slater. Trays tipped over and instruments clanged on the floor. Slater’s arm wrapped around mine. I wasn’t charged up because after wearing the necklace for so long, I had lost the control I once possessed. It could be compared to your leg falling asleep—it takes time for it to wake up. Before I could react, a sharp prick of a needle slid into my neck.
Justus slammed the Mage against the wall and tried to stab him with the dagger when the Mage rolled to the right. He was too fast.
“That’s enough, children,” Slater interrupted.
Heads turned and everyone got the full picture. Slater standing behind me with his arm wrapped tightly around my body and his other holding a plunger to a needle buried halfway in my neck. It would only take a microsecond for him to inject me with whatever was in that needle, and that thought unnerved me.
“Let her go,” Christian demanded.
“This is my house,” Slater said in clipped words. “I call the shots, and you weren’t invited.”
Instruments went flying and the body of a large Mage slid across the floor with a knife stuck in his chest.
“Well, well, well,” Slater began. “If it isn’t Justus. Hardly saw you standing there. Don’t even think about flashing because I can move my thumb faster than you can blink. If you want to know what’s in here, I’ll tell you. Chitah venom. And it’s more than enough to kill.”
Slater shoved the needle in harder to get a reaction from me. I reminded myself that he was only a Relic, and Relics were mortal.
“What do you want, Slater?” Justus looked like a mass of volatility, but he kept the anger in his voice leashed and remained in absolute control.
Simon never took his eyes off the older Mage, not even risking a glance in our direction, although I knew it was killing him not to see what was going on.
“I want you to remove the knife from my coworker on the floor and put it in your friend. Then we’ll talk.”
Justus walked to the Mage and lingered for a moment.
“Ghuardian, don’t!” I winced as the needle went in deeper. Screw him. If Slater planned to inject me, then nothing I said was going to do anything but determine how much sooner that would be. “He’ll do the same with you and then Christian,” I warned. “Don’t do it.”
“Mouthy one you got here, Justus. No wonder you wanted someone to take her off your hands. I heard about that Chitah,” he said with a short laugh. “Giving the bride away to her enemy? Fucking hilarious.”
Justus bent over to remove the knife from the Mage. Before he could do it, I swung my heavy boot against Slater’s shin as hard as I could. He yelled out and leaned forward, loosening his grip. I reached beneath my shirt for the dagger. When I stabbed him in the leg, a cold rush entered my neck.
We both dropped to the floor.
Christian dove forward and pulled out the needle.
He turned my neck and his fangs bit into the entry site. With hard pulls, Christian sucked out blood mixed with venom, spitting it all over Slater’s face. Chaos ensued all around me. After his fifth attempt, I finally pushed him away.
“That’s enough, Christian. As much as you like necking with me, you can stop.”
I sat up and strangely felt okay. It wasn’t the immediate reaction I’d previously experienced with pain, numbness, and blindness—just to name a few.
“I’m all right.”
Justus dropped on his knees by my side while Christian sat heavily on Slater’s chest. I pointed behind the curtain. “Page is in there.” When I saw Justus wasn’t listening, I reassured him. “I’m okay, Ghuardian. I promise. There wasn’t any venom in there or I’d be dead by now. Go help Page.”
He all but vanished. Behind the curtain, I heard soft whispers and the sound of straps unbuckling. “What are they pumping into her?” he shouted.
Christian bounced a little on Slater’s chest, provoking an answer.
“Morphine,” Slater grunted.
Blood trickled down my neck and I covered it with my hand, peering over my shoulder and watching Justus pull out the IV from Page’s arm.
I glared at Christian as the blood smeared around. “You could have at least licked it.”
He smirked darkly. “I hear that all too often.”
“Ghuardian, take her home,” I said. “We’ll stay here and question them.”
We had a lot of work to do, and it was fortunate we happened upon all three men at once. Christian intended to charm the truth from them and scrub their memories clean once we got all the information needed. Novis had no interest in the technology. His concern was preventing that knowledge from spreading because of the repercussions. Unfortunately, the memory scrubbing would be extensive and require a clean slate; God knows how many years their involvement dated back. End result: amnesia.
Justus carefully lifted Page from the table. Her hair was brushed back and she groggily moaned, lifting her heavy eyelids. They’d definitely drugged her with something. Her arm fell loose and he glanced briefly at her bare feet as he made his way out the door.
Christian stared at me, riddled with concern. “And how is the bite victim feeling these days?” He lifted the needle, squirting a few drops onto his tongue.
“I feel the same.”
“Fecking hell, I thought it was a placebo. It’s Chitah venom. When you were bit the last time, how long did it take before the symptoms came on?”
“Seconds. Are you sure it’s not something else?”
Christian turned around and penetrated Slater with his obsidian eyes. “Better talk or I’ll introduce you to my two best friends,” he said harshly, holding up his fists. “Meet thunder and lightning. If you don’t start talking, it’s going to storm all over your face.”
“She should be dead,” Slater breathed, looking at me in disbelief.
“Are you okay, love?” Simon lifted the older Mage by the collar and gave me a worried look. Thankfully, the genitalia tatted on his forehead had com
pletely faded, or else I might have lost it. “Do you feel off?”
He used his free hand to rake his tousled hair out of his eyes. Simon reminded me of someone who belonged in a rock band whenever his hair was messy, and especially when he wore his leathers. But mostly it was just a pair of dark jeans and a T-shirt with inappropriate writing or rips. Tonight his black shirt had an arrow pointing down that said Joystick included.
He lowered his chin and pointed at me while looking at Christian. “What did you do to treat her before? Do you remember all the steps involved?”
“Steps?” Christian asked with an arch of his brow. “We weren’t doing the Charleston, you dolt.”
“Christian,” I warned.
Simon didn’t trust Vamps and he sure as hell didn’t like Christian’s tone. They momentarily forgot the matter at hand and Simon didn’t have his aviators on.
“Silver, hand me a pencil.”
“Simon, put a cork in it.”
“Got one on you? I’m not going to stand here and be called a dolt by a wanker,” he argued, staring at my guard.
Christian sat on Slater with a bored expression on his face.
Simon forced the Mage he held by the collar to sit back down. “Was it just feeding her your blood and draining it out?”
“No,” Christian replied, scratching his short beard. “The Relic first injected her with a concoction that drew the venom out. I bet arseface knows,” he said, bouncing on Slater’s chest, causing him to grunt in agony.
“Wait a minute, everyone,” I interrupted, standing on my feet. “It doesn’t burn, there’s no discomfort, nothing.”
“I’m sure your lady doctor will be relieved to hear that,” Christian murmured.
“She was bit by a Chitah before?” Slater asked.
“Shut the fuck up, you,” Christian demanded, bouncing on his chest as if he were a kid on one of those giant rubber balls. Slater was one breath away from passing out.
“She’s probably immune,” he grunted.
Christian rolled off him and pulled the knife out of his leg. Slater screamed and Christian held the blade to his throat, licking a drop of blood from the tip of his finger. “Mmm, tastes like uncertainty this evening. That always fires up my thirst to know more. Do share.”
Slater pulled in deep breaths. “Like a vaccination or getting exposed to chicken pox. You aren’t likely going to react to it again because you’ve built up immunity.”
“Then why isn’t every Mage in Cognito racing to his nearest Relic to get Chitah vaccine?” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Because you have Chitah blood.”
Everyone silenced.
“Prove it,” I said.
Chapter 31
Justus wrapped Page in a warm blanket and placed her on his spacious bed. The candle wicks were cut down and only a few lit, so the room carried only the softest glow of light. He assessed that Page hadn’t suffered any physical injuries that were visible, other than a few bruises from the IV.
As she slept, Justus organized all the photographs and files and placed them into boxes. He stacked them in the corner and spent several minutes tidying the room until it met his standards. Everything in its place. He was a meticulous man—one who lived by routine and structure.
A glass of juice and a small bowl of fresh fruit sat on the solid end table beside the bed. It was frustrating to have healing energy he couldn’t use on a mortal, to be forced to wait until her body replenished.
Two hours and fifteen minutes later, Page stretched like a cat, as if she were merely waking up from a good night’s sleep. Relief filled him as he gazed upon her heart-shaped face. The sternness she often wore had softened—even her lips seemed fuller.
Her lashes fluttered as Justus sat beside her.
“Page, open your eyes,” he said in a subdued voice.
He lightly touched her throat and she moaned, creating a vibration against the tip of his thumb. He immediately snapped his hand back and she slowly emerged from that place between dream and reality. Justus became a reservoir, drinking her in with his eyes and memorizing every angle of her face. He’d never paid attention to how long her lashes were.
Her coffee-brown eyes blinked open and he brushed his knuckles down her smooth cheek as gently as a breeze.
“There you are,” he said in a low voice.
Before she etched a single worry line on her face, he continued speaking to her in a reassuring tone. “You’re safe in my home. All of them, including Slater, have been detained. No further harm will come to you; I won’t allow it. You were drugged and your body is weak. I’m going to take care of you the way you need to be cared for. When you are ready to leave, I will escort you home. You will have nothing from me short of protection.”
“I’m thirsty,” she replied in a sticky, cracked voice.
Justus swung out his arm, grabbing the juice from the table and placing the small glass in her hand. He cupped the back of her head as she tilted up and drank a few swallows. She gasped for breath and lowered her head onto the pillow.
“Better,” she said.
“Did he hurt you?” As soon as the question he’d been wondering slipped past his tongue, Justus felt a knot of anger ball up in his stomach.
“I wasn’t given food or water because it was all going in intravenously. They kept me sedated and gave me injections, but I don’t think I’m hurt. I mean, I’m not missing a kidney or anything, am I?” Page looked down with a mix of humor and fright on her face.
“If I find but one scratch on you, I will break him to pieces. It is a despicable man who would lay a hand on a woman.”
“Men and all that testosterone,” she said with a sigh, avoiding his eyes.
It bothered him that she looked away and he touched her chin, turning her head to face him. Page blushed high in the cheek and it spread down her neck. It was becoming impossible for Justus to look away as he noticed her beautiful black lashes. The tiny mark at the corner of her eye that most women would have covered with makeup, but she didn’t. The way she pulled in her upper lip, biting the tip. The faded marks on her earlobes that indicated she’d once pierced her ears but no longer fussed with jewelry. Then he spotted a tiny white scar on her hairline.
“How did you get this?” he asked, running his finger over the jagged line.
She looked upward. “Oh, I got that in the third grade. A boy named Tommy Farrow knocked me down. I think I hit it against the corner of the building, but it was so long ago.”
“Always been a fighter, haven’t you?”
“You have to be tough in our world.”
He nodded in agreement.
She was beginning to sound more like her old self, and he liked that. Page sat up and his eyes fell to her hospital gown, a reminder of where she had been.
Justus opened a drawer and found a long, clean shirt. “You can wear this until we find you suitable clothing. I’ll draw you a bath.”
Silver had more bubble bath than he could tolerate, so Justus ran the hot water and added a lavender liquid. When he returned to the room, he helped Page out of the bed. She was unsteady on her feet but insisted he let her do this alone.
He waited in the hall for roughly an hour while she did what women do in the bathroom. When he heard her brushing her teeth, he dropped his head against the wall and thought about how odd it was that small things like that affected him. It was the sound of everyday life, of someone else sharing his space. These were the things he could imagine enjoying with a woman—the personal moments.
He decided to give Page the time she needed and walked down to the training room. It was his temple, and Justus spent twenty minutes practicing ancient fighting techniques mixed with martial arts.
“You’re really good,” Page said from the doorway.
He used the end of his shirt to wipe off his face and turned to look at her. His dark blue shirt stretched down to her knees.
“Do you know how to defend yourself?” he asked, remembering th
e videotape of a panicked woman running for her life. What good were locks if she didn’t know how to protect herself?
Page shrugged. “I’ve never had to.”
“Come here,” he said.
Her brows angled into a comical slant. “Why?”
Nodding his head, he coaxed her with a wave of his arm. “Come here, I said.”
She rubbed her nose and crossed the floor, stopping in front of him and putting her hands on her hips.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked.
“It’ll take a little while before I’m one hundred percent, but I’m holding my own.”
He could smell her hair; it was still wet at the ends and wild all around her face. She looked like a pixie with her liquid brown eyes and shapely mouth. Not a beauty in the way that most women were in today’s time, but there was something fetching about her expression and unique features that held his attention. It reminded him of when he used to paint and how other artists would seek out the most beautiful landscapes, sunsets, or women. The paintings fell flat. Yet he had once painted the family of an aristocrat and the eldest daughter—who happened to be the least attractive—wound up becoming the most captivating face on his canvas. A lovely smile played in her eyes that never showed on her mouth. She held a classic beauty that was not favored during that time, and it was such a disappointment when the buyer refused to pay for it because his daughter outshone his own wife.
Justus reached out and wrapped his hands around Page’s throat. “What do you do?”
She gripped his wrists and tried to pull his arms away.
“No, not like that. Drop your chin.”
She did as he asked with each command.
“Good,” he said. “Hunch your shoulders. That’s right, Page. Good. Now take a small step back.”
Page stepped back a little, half-smiling. “Are we dancing again?”
Gravity (Mageri Series: Book 4) Page 28