“Yes?”
“You’re doin’ it again.”
“Sorry.”
He just couldn’t help it. He rambled when he was nervous, and he was more than a little terrified of someone cutting him open. His blood should stay inside his body, right where it belonged, and no one could convince him otherwise. On the same note, silver had no place anywhere near him, and he wasn’t shy about saying so.
While silver jewelry had no effect on their skin, the liquid version of the shiny stuff was a much different story. Once silver entered a shifter’s system and mixed with their blood, it became a type of acid that burned and bubbled, and given enough, it could be lethal.
Destin wasn’t going to use enough for that to happen—only a drop or two—but he’d been very upfront in saying that Zavion and his friends would probably feel like they had the flu for about twenty-four hours. He’d never had the flu, but he seriously doubted it could be any worse than how he’d felt while he was poisoned. He was quite knowledgeable in the effects of silver in his system, however, considering it had been another way for the Trainers and Drones to control and punish them.
The night was cold and breezy, more rain in the forecast, and Zavion desperately wanted to go back to his dorm and cuddle in front of the fireplace with Cian. Instead, he was trudging along the narrow path that led to the main house near the gates of the coven.
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“People probably think we’re some weird cult or something with all the fences and guards around this place. Or maybe they think it’s some sort of government operation. Oh, I bet they think we have aliens here like that place out in the desert. I was watching this documentary the other night about—”
“Zavion?”
“Yeah,” he sighed, “I know.” Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket, he dropped his head and forced himself to be silent.
Long fingers looped around his wrist, pulling his left hand from his pocket and enveloping it in Cian’s much larger one. Bending slightly, he whispered his lips across Zavion’s knuckles and gave him a little tug to get him moving again.
“No, we’re not goin’ to Cloud Peak. No, the wolves don’t look at ya bad-funny. Yes, the townspeople probably think we’re a cult, though most around here are paranormal, so they understand. I’ve never met an alien, but I’m not opposed to it. I wonder what they’d have to say. What did your documentary tell ya?”
“I love you.”
“Did it now?” Cian teased. “Is that what it told you?”
Gods, how could he not love this man? Though obviously concerned as well, Cian was holding it together, strong and steady as ever. He was Zavion’s rock, his safe harbor, and more importantly, he was an understanding friend waiting with a shoulder to lean on and an ear to bend.
Instead of gushing like some lovesick teenager, though, Zavion took a deep breath, released it slowly, and began recounting the things he’d learned while watching the program on television. Cian listenedintently, bobbing his head or asking for more details occasionally. If he was trying to distract Zavion from his worries, it worked, because by the time they reached the enormous mansion, he’d completely forgotten why they were there.
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When he saw Oscar standing on the front steps along with Zuriel, Cicero, and Demitrius, everything came rushing back, and Zavion stopped in his tracks. “I changed my mind.”
Instead of arguing with him, Cian scooped him up, tossed him
over one muscled shoulder, and popped him on his upturned ass. “You doth protest too much, Zavion, my love. This is for your own good.”
Logically, he knew that. Not only was it best for his safety but for the safety of those around him. He just really, really didn’t like pain in any of its varying degrees. “What if he scrambles my spinal cord or sets my brain on fire?” he argued as he wiggled around on Cian’s shoulder. “I could be paralyzed forever and ever.”
“Destin knows what he’s doin’ .” There was a smile in Cian’s
voice that Zavion didn’t appreciate in the least. “Stop bein’ a drama queen.”
“Yeah,” his twin called to him, “stop worrying everything to death, dude. You want to stay here, right? Well, we gotta get those doohickeys out of our necks.” He clung to Raven’s back with his arms wrapped around the vampire’s neck and a shit-eating grin on his face. “I really like it here.”
Raven, on the other hand, looked disgruntled when Zuriel pulled himself higher and licked the Enforcer on the side of his neck. “Knock it off,” he ordered, swinging his arms around wildly to try to remove Zuriel from his back. The guy looked utterly ridiculous and wasn’t making any progress in his pursuit of Zavion’s brother. “Will someone get the little slut monster off me?”
“Aww,” Demitrius cooed sarcastically. “I think he likes you,
Raven.”
“Oh, ha-ha, asshole.” Raven spun in a circle, doing a great imitation of a dog chasing his tail, but he was no closer to capturing Zuriel. “Come here, you little brat. Ah! Fuck!” Raven looked up at Demitrius pleadingly. “He grabbed my dick! Do something!”
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Zavion laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe. The others joined in with him, the sounds of their amusement bouncing off the walls. Even Cicero laughed, the first sound Zavion had heard from him in months. He might have made a big deal out of it, but he was afraid the attention would send Cicero back into his shell, and that was the last
thing he wanted to happen.
So he continued to focus on Raven’s fight with Zuriel. It served the big dummy right for all the hell he gave everyone in the coven. He vaguely wondered if the big vampire was his brother’s mate, because that would be hilarious. Somehow, he didn’t think so. Zuriel just liked men in general and treated most of them to the same kind of attention.
Hell, if dick-grabbing was the equivalent of prenuptials, Zuriel would be mated to half the guys in Haven by now. Not that he was calling his brother a slut or anything, but if the shoe fit, Zuriel would probably buy a belt to match and wear it on any given Friday.
Honestly, he had no right to judge anyone, and his twin was free to live his life however he wanted. Zavion just didn’t want to see him get hurt. For all of his wicked ways and naughty antics, he wasn’t different than anyone else. Zuriel just wanted someone to love him for him, and apparently, he hadn’t found the right man yet—not that it stopped him from looking.
“Are we ready?” Destin asked when he stepped into the foyer where everyone was gathered with two Enforcers flanking him.
They weren’t putting him in a cell or treating him harshly, but no one was taking any chances. Until they felt confident they could trust the man, he was under constant supervision. Surprisingly, Destin understood and didn’t protest the invasion of his privacy or the constant shadows that followed him everywhere.
“You’ll stay with me, right?” Zavion grabbed both of Cian’s hands when his mate set him back to the floor and stared up at him pleadingly. “Please, Cian?”
“Sure, I’ll stay.” He nudged Zavion ahead of him and indicated he should follow Dr. Woods.
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By the time Zavion was dressed in a blue gown that showed off his ass and was spread out facedown on a cool, metal table, he was trembling from head to toe with nerves. “I don’t like this.”
“That’s my line,” Cian responded with a wink as he settled into a chair beside Zavion’s head. “Deep breaths.” A mask was placed over his mouth and nose, and Zavion did as instructed. “Count back from
ten.” Leaning forward, Cian pressed a kiss to his forehead and brushed his hair back from his face. “I’ll be right here when ya wake
up.”
“Okay,” he mumbled before beginning his countdown. He’d only
made it to seven when the anesthesia took hold of him, dragging him
under and plunging everything into darkness.
* * * *
&nb
sp; “You’re sure he won’t feel anything?” To a degree, Cian trusted
Destin Woods, but when it came to his mate, no one was immune to
his overprotectiveness.
“I promise he won’t feel anything. The procedure will take about
ten minutes total. His neck will be sore for an hour or two, and he
might feel sick to his stomach or have a headache for the next twentyfour hours. That’s it.”
“What about his spinal cord?” He hadn’t wanted to freak Zavion out any more than he already was, but the guy had brought up a legitimate concern. “How do ya know that this won’t sever something vital?”
“I don’t,” Destin answered seriously. “However, the chips are
below the spine and deep enough that the silver shouldn’t cause any
problems. If the microchips were shallower, I wouldn’t attempt it for fear that the silver would burn too deeply and damage the spinal cord.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’d be lying if I said nothing can go wrong, but this method does pose the least amount of risk.”
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“Okay.” Of course, he’d known there would be a certain amount of risk. There really wasn’t another option, though, and he wanted any and all threats to his mate eliminated. They may have won this time, but if there was a next time, they might not be so lucky. “Go ahead, Doc.”
Destin talked as he worked, probably to calm Cian and distract him, which was just fine by him. “So, what’s the story on Demitrius? Does he always look like that? Or is it just an intimidation thing?” The blade of the scalpel gleamed in the fluorescent lighting as he sliced it across the back of Zavion’s neck. “I don’t have the proper
tools here. Can you hold this open?”
Grimacing as his mate’s blood slicked his fingers, Cian did his best to hold the wound open while Destin retrieved a tiny, ambercolored glass bottle. “From what I gather, he’s stuck that way. Some genetic fluke, he says.” Those who knew Demitrius didn’t give a damn what he looked like, but Cian understood that the man was self-
conscious about his appearance. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, that’s kind of my specialty.” Destin held a dropper over the open gash on Zavion’s neck, letting it drip the silvery liquid twice before pulling it away. “If he’ll let me, I might be able to help him.”
“That’s somethin’ you’ll have to talk to him about,” Cian answered with a wince. Zavion’s blood hissed and bubbled, and the
smell rising up from his neck made his nose curl. “Gods above, this is
awful.”
Destin kept a close eye on his watch, announcing the two minute mark as he reached for a clear bottle of saline solution and poured half the contents into the opening to flush out the silver. “I’ll have to stitchup Cicero and Zuriel, but I’m lucky this time.” Grabbing Cian’s wrist, he jerked his hand out and pierced the tip of his index finger with the scalpel. Then he flipped Cian’s hand over and ran the digit along the seam of Zavion’s cut where he held the flesh together.
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Within seconds, the skin knitted back together, leaving only a faint pink line that would probably fade before the hour was up. “Did it work?”
“Let’s find out.” He lifted something from the table that looked like the metal detector wands they used in airports. Destin pressed a couple of buttons, waved it over the top of Zavion’s neck, and grinned. “It worked.”
“What is that?”
“The Hive has programs on the computers to track these little devices, but your Enforcers confiscated all of that. This was in my medical supplies. It’s kind of a mobile tracking device.” He flipped it around so Cian could see the small screen. “They mostly just use this to make sure the chips are activated, not for actual tracking, but it
serves our purposes.”
Destin removed the mask from Zavion’s face and hung it on a nearby hook. “He should be awake in about twenty minutes or so, and then you can take him home. Try to keep him in bed until at least morning.”
“Got it.”
“Oh, and maybe put in a word for me with Xander, if you could. I can work with him on getting his arm back in shape, but he won’t let me anywhere near him.”
Xander was still being a rat bastard to just about everyone, including his mate, Braxton. Cian understood a little about how the alpha was feeling. It was very rare that a shifter didn’t heal fully from their injuries, but Cian was with Zavion on this one. Xander was damn lucky to escape with only a fucked-up arm. Maybe someone needed to remind him of that—with a swift smack upside the head.
“I’ll see what I can do, but he’s a stubborn prick.”
“Well, he’s not going to get better if he doesn’t try.” After that, Destin left the room with the two guards right on his heels.
Cian used a warm, wet cloth to wipe the blood away from his lover’s neck. Once that task was complete, he pulled his cell phone
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from his pocket and dialed quickly. He was about to request his first day off since arriving in Haven. Part of him felt a little guilty, but he was able to push it away easily. After all, he had someone very important to spend the day with.
As predicted, it was only fifteen or twenty minutes later that Zavion began to squirm on the metal table. “I’m blind!”
Cian bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “Open your
eyes, a ghrá.”
Slowly and carefully, Zavion pried his eyelids open, blinking several times against the harsh glare. “Oh, I knew that.” His voice was a little slurred, and he appeared to be a bit groggy. Otherwise, he
seemed fine, and Cian was able to breathe a bit easier.
“Destin says we can go home, if you’d like.”
“Yes, please. I hate the smell of this place. What is it, anyway?”
“It’s kind of a makeshift infirmary for minor injuries around the
coven.”
“Well, I’m not infirm. Take me home.” Zavion sat up a little too quickly and almost toppled right off the table. “Uh, maybe you should carry me.”
Having an excuse to hold his mate close to him? Cian didn’t know anyone who could complain about that, and he certainly wasn’t going to. “Up ya go, then.”
Grabbing Zavion’s clothes, he tucked them into the guy’s hands and easily lifted him from the table. Now he just had to figure out a way to keep his rambunctious lover in bed for the next twelve hours.
Hmm, blow jobs aren’t that strenuous. Right?
“Well, I wouldn’t say no to one,” Zavion answered with a cute yawn. “Can you not think so loud, though? It’s making my head hurt.”
“Apologies, darlin’.”
“Hearing you in my head is weird. Now I kind of know what Zuriel feels like.” His eyes popped wide open, and his head snapped up, pinning Cian with those big blue eyes. “Are the others okay?”
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“They’ll be home soon.” It wasn’t technically a lie, but he didn’t
want to inform his lover that he hadn’t bothered to check in on his
friends. Thankfully, their kind healed quickly, so they would know something shortly.
“Okay. Are we going fishing tomorrow?”
“If you feel up to it.”
“I will,” Zavion assured him as he snuggled down into his arms. “I’ve never been fishing.”
“I remember.” Hopefully, if all went according to plan, it would be a day that his lover would never forget.
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Chapter Thirteen
“So, Xander still hasn’t come around?” It was a stupid question. If
that were the case, Braxton would be with his mate instead of in
Zavion’s kitchen.
Braxton looked over the top of his coffee cup with a dead, hollow look. “No. Hell, he barely even leaves his room. I don’t know what to do anymore.”
“Well, did you try Keeton’s suggestion?” Zavion felt so sorry for his friend. It was apparent from the puffy, dark circles under his eyes that he hadn’t been getting much sleep.
“I did. Apparently, the loss of movement in his arm is directly related to his dick. I don’t know.” Braxton sighed and scrubbed both hands over his face. “I’ve been sleeping on the couch since he came home. At first, it was because I didn’t want to disturb him. Now, well, I don’t really think he wants me in there anyway.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sure that’s not true. He’s just a little grumbly right now. He’ll get over it.” Zavion had very little to base that opinion on, but he hoped for Braxton’s sake that it was true.
Braxton and Xander had one of the most loving relationships he’d ever seen. Sure, he’d witnessed them have their disagreements a time
or two—usually concerning Braxton’s safety—but they’d always made up shortly afterward. If there was something wrong in their relationship that couldn’t be fixed, it would break Zavion’s heart.
“Cian tried to talk to him about working with Dr. Woods this morning, but he flipped out like a complete lunatic. He won’t talk to me, so I don’t even know why he’s acting this way.”
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“Maybe Destin isn’t the right doctor.” A brilliant idea popped into Zavion’s head, and he took just a second to pat himself on the back for it. “Cicero has been seeing Dr. Araceli a couple times a week, and I think it’s really helping. I mean, he’s still not talking, but I have heard him laugh a couple of times.”
“I think I’ve seen him around,” Braxton admitted. “The tall guy with white-blond hair and glasses?”
“Yep, that’s him. He’s a psychologist or something like that. Maybe he can help with Xander.”
Braxton seemed to mull it over for a while before finally bobbing his head slowly. “I think most of this isn’t physical but emotional and psychological. It couldn’t hurt anyway. Well, unless Xander won’t talk to him, of course.”
Evans, Gabrielle - From This Moment [The Moonlight Breed 7] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) Page 10