by Sadie Moss
“Sol! Jerrett!”
Fear lanced through me, and I heaved myself up, racing toward what had once been the doorway.
“Motherfucking goddamn son of a dirty fucking whore!”
The faint stream of profanity was like music to my ears. I could hear Sol’s voice too, and the vise of fear around my heart relaxed. The two brothers couldn’t reach us, but at least they were still alive.
As the fog of panic faded from my mind, I turned back to face the room. Several shades had been hit hard by the blast too, and now they picked themselves up slowly. Malcolm had been closer to the door than I was, but he’d somehow recovered faster.
Blood trailed down his cheek from a cut next to his right eye as he stalked over to a shade that’d been stunned by the blast. He lifted his large booted foot and stomped on its head.
With a sickening crunch, the shade’s skull cracked, and its body began to shrivel and shrink.
The remaining shades shrieked with anger. Those who had recovered from the explosion began moving quickly around the room, renewing their search in earnest. Several tables had been overturned by the blast, and many of the precious artifacts on them had broken. A copper pocket watch had flipped open, and a black substance oozed out from behind the watch face, spreading across the floor like spilled ink. Whatever spell the watch had contained looked like it was dissolving.
Please, Fate, let whatever they’re looking for be broken.
I raced toward a group of shades, determined to pull my weight in this fight. Malcolm had already taken out two, and I’d only killed one.
Raising my sword high, I swung it at the first shade I reached—probably more like a baseball bat than a blade, but hey, it got the job done. I caught the creature in the mid-back and it growled, turning to face me. My sword had wedged between its bones, and I hadn’t been prepared for the movement. The hilt was yanked from my hand as I stumbled forward. The shade scrabbled for the blade lodged in its back, careening backward into a set of shelves along the wall.
Several items tumbled to the floor, and a small wooden box popped open. The shade I’d injured didn’t seem to notice, but its four buddies definitely did. Their heads all swiveled to the open box as if they shared a single brain.
That’s it. What they want is in that box.
The thought wasn’t even complete before I dove for the small container, throwing myself on top of it and covering it with my body.
“Willow!”
Malcolm’s voice was a roar behind me, but it was drowned out by searing pain as a shadow creature raked its claws down my back. A scream burst from my throat, but I stayed where I was, curling myself around the box and whatever was inside it like a living shield.
A moment later, large boots appeared by my head, and a snapping, snarling sound reached my ears. I peeked up and saw Malcolm standing over me, his face distended in that demonic, feral vampire look again. He bared his teeth and growled.
Two of the shades tried to rush us, but Malcolm moved faster than I’d ever seen. It was almost like there were two of him, in two places at once. The shades howled in frustration, moving in on us with agitated jerks, searching for an opening.
“Wildcat,” Malcolm said, his voice rough as sandpaper. “Get up. Keep that thing with you. Move to the window behind you. I’ll get you out of here.”
Suspicion rose in my mind at his use of the word “you.” He wasn’t going to try to stay here, was he? We had what we needed. If we got the whatever-it-was out of here, there would be no reason for him to stay and fight the shades.
Still clutching the box to my stomach, I started crawling toward the window on three limbs. Malcolm backed up with me, keeping up his attack on any shades who tried to get near.
What the hell is this thing anyway?
Deftly, I reached for the object inside, letting the wooden box fall to the floor beside me. I glanced down at it as I reached a window with the glass blown out from the blast.
This is it?
It was a small statue carved from dark stone. The work was crude and rudimentary, but in the moonlight, the statue looked like a pregnant woman sitting crosslegged. The only odd thing about it was that instead of a human head, she had a pig head.
My brow furrowed. How could this little thing be worth everything we’d just gone through?
Never mind. Time to figure that out later, after we get out of here.
“Malcolm! I’m here!” I called. “Are we going out the window?”
“Ye—”
But before the word was out of his mouth, a shade went incorporeal and charged. It slid right through his body and coalesced in front of me, reaching for its prize. I spun, cradling the statue to my chest. The wounds in my back were mostly healed, but the twisting motion still stung like a bitch.
“Willow!” Malcolm dove for me, shoving the monster aside and grabbing the statue from my grip. “Go! Now!”
He spun me toward the window, and I braced myself in the frame, prepared to jump. We were so high up it made my head swim, but several tall trees were clustered around the tower. If I could catch the limb of one of them—
A noise from behind stopped me short.
Not a shout. Not a shriek.
It was just a quiet grunt, so soft it could’ve been Malcolm stubbing his toe.
But it wasn’t. Somehow, I knew it wasn’t.
Ice filled my veins as I turned to look over my shoulder. The shade I’d hacked with my sword had pulled the blade loose… and stabbed it right through Malcolm’s chest.
The large, powerful man let out a hitching breath then fell to his knees. The shade kicked him backward, yanking out the blade as the stone statue dropped to the floor with a dull thud. Another shade picked it up, and all of them fled toward a shimmering veil that had appeared in the middle of the room.
They passed through it and disappeared, taking the statue with them.
The veil closed, disappearing like a wisp, but I hardly noticed.
My gaze was locked on the dying vampire before me.
23
Willow
A rushing sound filled my ears, and blackness edged my vision as fear gripped me in a stranglehold.
I ran to Malcolm and dropped to knees that didn’t feel like mine, cradling his large form in arms that must belong to someone else.
It can’t be me. It can’t be him. This can’t be real.
My entire body felt numb with shock and grief.
Malcolm blinked up at me, his deep brown eyes softer than I’d ever seen them. It was as though slipping toward death peeled away all the hard outer layers he normally hid behind, exposing the gentle, sweet soul underneath. He smiled up at me, and a trickle of blood fell from the corner of his mouth.
That smile broke my heart, shattered it into a million pieces. There was so much emotion contained in the simple curve of his lips.
Tenderness. Devotion.
Love.
He looked so proud of me, so happy to see my face hovering above his, that I couldn’t hold back the tears spilling down my cheeks.
“I didn’t stop them, Malcolm. I couldn’t. They got the statue.”
He was going to die for nothing. I’d failed him. I’d failed everyone.
Malcolm shook his head slightly. His shaggy dark hair gleamed in the moonlight. So did the blood pouring from the hole in his chest.
“It’s not…”
He tried to speak, but his voice broke off in a hacking gasp. His body was becoming heavier in my arms as strength left him.
No. No. No.
It was the only word I could focus on. Just no.
I would not let this happen. Malcolm couldn’t fucking die on me. Not until he knew how I felt about him—and hell, not after that either. I needed him with me just as much as I needed his brothers. He was strong and brave and fiercely protective. The world needed more men like that, not less.
Dimly aware of shouts from below me, echoing up from the rest of the castle, I lifted my wrist to my lips
. The adrenaline of the fight had brought my fangs out, and now I sank them into the soft flesh of my wrist.
Blood welled in my mouth, tangy and coppery.
I’d bitten deep. Blood pulsed from the puncture wounds in strong, steady pulses, matching the heavy beat of my heart.
Tilting Malcolm’s head up, I brought my wrist to his mouth. “Here. Drink. Drink!”
But his lips pressed into a thin line, so hard they went white. He turned his head to the side so that my blood dripped uselessly down his neck.
“What are you doing? You have to drink, Malcolm. You don’t have much time!”
The shade had pierced his heart. It must not have been a home strike, because I could still hear the damaged organ beating sluggishly and unevenly in his chest. But it was slowing down. I heard it. I felt it.
“No.” His voice was hardly more than a raspy whisper.
“Yes, Malcolm. Goddamn it. Please!”
Tears poured down my cheeks, falling off my chin to mingle with my blood as it dripped onto his skin.
“No, wildcat.” He pushed my hand away, and even that small motion seemed to cost him too much. “I can’t. If I do… I won’t be able to stop.”
My brain balked at his refusal. “Yes, you will. You—”
“I won’t.” He coughed lightly, another line of red seeping from his mouth. “Your fae blood will seduce me. I won’t be able to stop myself… until I drain you dry. I’ll… kill you.”
“No. No, Malcolm. You won’t. Please!”
He shook his head stubbornly, his beautiful eyes losing focus, the rich chocolate tone becoming duller. His face wavered before me, obscured by a fresh torrent of tears. I couldn’t bear to see the light behind those eyes go out.
He blinked slowly, and his lids didn’t rise. Panic flared in my belly, spreading like a flash fire through my entire body.
“Malcolm! Malcolm, stay with me.”
I patted his cheek with my free hand, cradling my punctured wrist to my chest. His eyes opened slowly, struggling to focus on me as I leaned down until our faces nearly touched.
“Do you remember what you told me?” I whispered, my voice cracking. “That first night we trained together. Do you remember?”
Malcolm’s dark eyes scanned my face, as if trying to memorize every feature. He didn’t answer my question, and I wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t want to say the words or because he could no longer speak. So I answered for him.
“I asked you if you were one of the monsters. And you told me you try very hard not to be.” My voice steadied as my resolve gained strength. “I believed you then, and I still believe it. You are a good man, Malcolm. You won’t kill me. I know it.”
Not waiting for a reply, I brought my wrist to his mouth again, smearing the welling blood over his lips. His body stiffened, and his eyes flew open, staring up at me with a mixture of fear and hunger.
Maybe it was the words I’d spoken.
Or maybe it was just because he truly couldn’t resist my blood.
But I hardly cared about the reason when Malcolm’s lips wrapped around my wrist, drinking from me in long pulls.
I watched his throat move with relieved fascination, remembering the first night I’d woken up in that room in the brothers’ house. He’d brought me a blood bag while I was tied to the bed, undergoing the transformation from human to vampire. He had drunk from one too, and despite my horror and confusion, I’d found myself unable to look away. There had been something so primally beautiful about this large, powerful man indulging his most basic urge.
The corded muscles of his throat worked with every swallow, and a mixture of my blood and his seeped from the sides of his mouth as his fangs pierced my wrist again, renewing the flow of blood.
An unbelievable pleasure radiated through my body, starting at my wrist and working up through my arm, chest, torso, and legs. Every molecule in my body seemed to be attuned to this man and his need for me. My clit throbbed with an aching need, and my nipples were so stiff and hard it was almost painful.
I wanted Malcolm.
I wanted him above me, around me, inside me.
My inner walls clenched with the need to feel his cock buried inside me, filling me and stretching me. But even that would hardly sate my hunger. I didn’t know if I could ever get close enough to him to satisfy the burning, raging need inside me.
I wanted to become one with him, to fuse our very souls together.
As Malcolm drank, the deathly pallor left his cheeks. His eyes regained the inner fire that I loved so much, and those deep pools of brown, edged almost with black, stared up at me.
Everything I felt was reflected in his eyes too. The overwhelming pleasure. The unquenchable need. I looked back at him, drowning in his gaze, my spirit seeming to free fall the same way it did when I had a vision. Only this time I wasn’t falling into nothingness. I was falling into Malcolm.
Why had he been afraid of this?
This was perfection.
This was ecstasy.
Slowly, strength returned to Malcolm’s body. His weight, which had been supported entirely in my arms, began to lessen. He sat up, reversing our positions so I lay back and he hovered over me, his lips never leaving my wrist.
This was the Malcolm I knew. Malcolm as he should be.
Powerful and dominant. In control.
I blinked up at him, enraptured, letting the waves of pleasure cascade through my body.
Then the sensation began to change. It sharpened and heightened, becoming almost more than I could bear—like the blurring of pleasure and pain from a powerful orgasm. My body was torn between wanting more and wanting to escape, and I writhed beneath him, moaning incoherently. Malcolm’s answering groans vibrated down my arm.
Suddenly, something seemed to snap inside me. The bubble of pleasure/pain burst, and all that was left was pain.
Excruciating pain.
I convulsed, all my muscles screaming in agony as a harsh cry fell from my lips. I tried to pull my wrist away from Malcolm’s mouth, but he growled, grabbing my arm in both hands with a vise-like grip and biting down hard again. As the tender flesh of my wrist was pierced for a third time, the muscles and veins shredding, fire seemed to spread through my body.
“Malcolm, stop.”
The words were meant to be a scream but left my mouth as little more than a whimper. My free hand pushed feebly against his chest, but all my vampire strength was gone. Hell, my ordinary human strength was gone. I felt weak as a newborn baby.
A hazy, dark red color filled my vision. I blinked up into the eyes of the man who was killing me, catching the feral, ravenous gleam in their depths. He was gone, lost in bloodlust.
“Please, Malcolm,” I whispered.
But it was useless to beg. I knew that. He’d slipped past the point of reason, and there was nothing I could say that would reach him. Summoning all my strength, I tugged on my wrist, trying to free it from his huge hands. An instinctual desire to live kept my body wriggling, jerking, trying to escape even as darkness closed in around me.
Our situation had changed completely, our circumstances reversing. A few minutes ago, Malcolm had been near death. Now it was me who was dying.
But Malcolm will live.
Those words rose to the top of a jumble of half-formed thoughts in my head. Malcolm would live. I had asked him to do this, forced him to do it. And even if he drained me completely, I would go to my death still believing he was a good man.
Not a monster. Not a beast.
A leader. A protector.
My protector.
The pain tearing through me began to dull, but it wasn’t replaced by pleasure. It wasn’t replaced by anything. Just emptiness. Peace.
I drew in a deep breath, meeting Malcolm’s dark eyes. A small smile curved my lips.
He will live.
That’s enough for me.
24
Malcolm
I’d been on the verge of death.
I
’d felt it.
Despite the many warnings I’d given Willow, it was far too easy to forget vampires were mortal when we didn’t age and possessed superhuman strength and healing abilities. Perhaps I had grown overconfident, even cocky.
But dying was a humbling experience.
For the first time in decades, I felt weak, helpless. As I lay in Willow’s arms, death creeping over me, I had time to regret all the poor decisions I’d made in my life—and the vast expanse of the years I had lived just meant there were more mistakes to regret.
But the one shining beacon in the sea of sin and torment that was my unnaturally long existence was the night I’d saved Willow Tate. That had been right. It had been good. I had kept an angel on earth where she was truly needed, and although I’d never believed in Fate’s guidance the way Sol did, I knew she had meant for us to find Willow.
As life drained from my body, the hunter in me screamed that I needed to find the shades, find the weird sisters, end them all. But the man in me could think of nothing but Willow. As I gazed up at her, the moonlight framing her hair seemed to give her a silver halo, and a small smile tilted my lips.
“I didn’t stop them, Malcolm. I couldn’t. They got the statue.”
Her voice sounded sad, and I wished I could comfort her. I tried, but the words didn’t want to leave my failing body; so I just stared up at her, drinking in the sight of her, bingeing on it, trying to get my fill.
She was so lovely. Delicate and strong, like a desert flower.
Why hadn’t I told her that every day? Why hadn’t I swept her into my arms, kissed her, and held her close whenever the urge took me?
Why on hell and earth had I wasted so much energy pushing her away?
And then she reminded me exactly why.
Like a hazy vision, I watched her bring her wrist to her mouth and bite down hard. The scent of her blood exploded on the air, and my nostrils twitched, a desperate hunger rising inside me.