Bite Deep (30 page)

‘I … would hear these plans,' Vaughn said, breathless, as she began to pull his zipper down.

‘Of course.' She bought her face close to his, running her tongue across his bottom lip. ‘Then you're going to kill the bitch for me, and that will be the beginning.'

Chapter 28

Lydia woke slowly to a dull ache in her head. Mind foggy, she groaned and tried to sit up, head spinning. A voice came from somewhere close.

‘Go easy.'

Blinking her eyes open, she saw Jericho sitting on the edge of the bed, a frown pulling his brows low. She tried to swallow and found her throat raw. As if reading her thoughts, he handed her a glass of water from the bedside table.

‘Drink it slow,' he said.

She took the water, arms feeling weak. The liquid slid down her throat, a cool relief. She placed it aside, then sat back and glanced down at the enormous shirt she was wearing.'Where are my clothes?'

‘It was your turn to be covered in blood.' He gave her an apologetic smile at the bad joke. ‘I washed them and they're hanging out by the fire. Should be dry by morning.'

She touched her damp hair. ‘Did you wash me?'

‘Just got the worst of the blood out.'

‘Where am I?' Her hand dropped and she looked around the room. Alarm coiled through her as her memories moved sluggishly, unwilling to dredge up what had happened. One of her hands flew to her neck, finding it bandaged. ‘What happened?'

‘You don't remember?' he asked.

She frowned, a headache starting up behind her eyes as she struggled to recall. Her fingers moved over the bandages at her neck, wanting to rip it off. ‘I was hurt.'

Jericho stood and the bed creaked. He walked over to the small window, parted the closed curtains and peered out. Fragmented memories started shifting into focus and Lydia squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember. Then a sliver of memory came to her and her eyes flew open.

‘Coulter attacked me.'

‘He did.'

Pain speared her chest, a potent combination of anger and loss. ‘He was responsible for my mother's death.'

‘We don't know that for certain,' Jericho said, a cautious look entering his eyes. ‘But I will find out for you.'

She swallowed, throat dry again. ‘Where is he?'

‘He's not your business anymore.'

‘I'm a cop, Jericho.' She shifted to the edge of the bed, swinging her feet to the floor and wincing when she found it freezing. ‘Believe me, he is my business.'

Jericho was quiet a moment, as if waiting for her to come around to his way of thinking. She could have told him he was wasting his time. He might be a mean old biker, used to getting his own way, but she had her own stubborn streak, and short of tying her up, he couldn't keep her there. Not when there were answers to get. And she intended to shake them out of Coulter with her own bare hands.

And then there was another matter.

‘You were going to kill me, weren't you,' she said quietly, eyes fixed on the floor. ‘That night you bit me. I remember you looked at me so strangely. I just thought you were going to pass out.' She gave a bitter laugh, looking up at him. ‘I sure know how to pick guys, don't I.'

Jericho turned from the curtains, letting them fall over the twilight outside. ‘But I didn't hurt you. I chose to wait. To wait and see if you'd been infected.'

‘Great,' Lydia said. ‘That's just all so great.'

He walked over to her, kneeling down, hands resting either side of her on the bed. ‘Please forgive me, Lydia.'

Her eyebrows snapped together. ‘For biting me? I'm not forgiving you for that. You could have killed me.'

‘An accident. One I wish never had happened. It shames me, what I could have done. What could have happened.' His head bowed. ‘You have to forgive me.'

Without thinking, she raised a hand to touch his head and his body stilled under her touch. She was furious with him. Simply furious. He'd nearly killed her. A small voice reminded her that he had chosen not to. Emotions swamped her angry thoughts, drowning them in a confusing mix of desire and fury. Her hand dropped.

‘Where's the bathroom?' she asked.

Jericho raised his head, haunted eyes searching her face. She stared back, giving him nothing. She was too hurt, too confused, to be handing out forgiveness just yet. He stood and moved across the room, opening a door that led to an en suite. ‘The towels are fresh if you want a shower. No hot water, I'm afraid.'

Shifting off the bed, she walked into to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Hands shaking, she turned on the taps and washed her face, gasping when the freezing water hit her skin. She needed to think, needed to plan. But her thoughts were so tired, she found it hard to think beyond finding Coulter and hurting him. The bathroom door squealed as it opened behind her.

‘Are you alright?' Jericho asked. ‘Are you in pain?'

‘I'm fine.' She dried her face on a towel, replacing it with care, then made to leave the bathroom, but Jericho pushed off the doorframe, hands held up to stop her.

‘I want you to rest tonight. Coulter isn't going to be a problem anymore,' he told her. ‘And I'll make him tell me where the other Hunter is. I promise you that.'

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘What do you mean, Coulter isn't going to be a problem?'

‘I got some boys to pick him up.'

‘Pick him up?' She paused, some of her broken memories clicking back into place. ‘Morgan Wilcox. She was in the room with us. With a crossbow.' She blinked. ‘A really big crossbow.'

‘Yeah.' Jericho shook his head, as if he couldn't believe it either. ‘She said she used to belong to the Camden coven. Retired, she said. Guess she had a real axe to grind with Hunters.'

Lydia crossed her arms. ‘You know, I'm still not sure I believe this Wiccan business.'

‘But you'd believe in Breed?' Jericho almost smiled.

‘I don't know.' She gave him a tired smile. ‘Feels like one fairy tale too much for me.'

He gave a dark chuckle, but she noticed he still blocked her path. ‘It's late, you should at least stay here the night and rest. We can talk more in the morning.'

She tried to gauge how serious he was. ‘You can't stop me if I want to leave.' She put one hand on his chest, trying to push him aside. It was like trying to move a brick wall. He lifted his hands to cover hers, his skin warm.

‘You've just woken up from a strong sedative, we're in the middle of nowhere. I'll keep you safe tonight, for some rest.' His voice was a low rumble that ran down her arms and she stiffened as his other hand reached out to brush her waist. ‘Then I'll take you anywhere you want tomorrow.'

His tone was protective, eyes burning fever bright, and something unfolded inside of her, reaching towards him. She looked away, heat flushing up her neck. She didn't understand why her body responded to his touch, rekindling an ache she hadn't felt in a long time. She tried to suppress the feeling. Tried to reason with the dark desire coursing through her. She was an officer of the law and he was … a werewolf biker. The whole thing was insane. Surely she had imagined what she saw that night Jericho was hurt. That his face hadn't altered into something monstrous.

As if sensing her conflict, Jericho dipped his head, placing a kiss gently against her forehead, and the tenderness of the gesture snatched her breath. He pulled away, and a coldness settled against her skin, sinking into her bones. She found herself almost swaying towards him, wanting the warmth to return, wanting him to hold her. Anything to chase away the freezing numbness that had taken root inside of her. A wave of dizziness engulfed her, sending her thoughts spinning, her body breaking out in sweat. What was she thinking? She couldn't trust this man.

This
monster
.

‘Just stay here tonight, Lydia,' he said, voice gentle. ‘Give me that at least. We can talk about a plan tomorrow.'

She wasn't sure what to say. He sounded reasonable and she
was
exhausted, after all. As if Jericho knew of her decision to stay the night before she knew it herself, he gave her a nod, then shut the door behind him.

* * *

Jericho sat on the cabin veranda, staring out into the night. Reaper sat with him, while Frost checked his bike. Winger had come an hour ago in the van to give Blades a lift back to the bar. Reaper and Jericho had been sitting in silence for the last hour, while Frost had made great pretence of fixing his bike. The night was heavy with moisture and rain clouds blanketed the stars.

‘You boys need to head back,' Jericho said finally. ‘Turk is going to need you around him.'

Frost wasn't close, but his hearing was almost better than Blades' and he straightened, brushing his hands on his jeans before strolling over to the veranda.

‘We think maybe you need us right now.' Reaper stared down at his large, scarred hands. ‘Things are getting kinda tense.'

Frost leaned against the veranda railing. ‘You've got feelings for the woman. No one could fault you for that. But Vaughn being here, it complicates things considerably.'

‘You think that makes me blind?' Jericho said.

‘No.' Frost's smile was brittle. ‘But I feel compelled to point out the obvious. Vaughn is going to come for you, you know that.'

‘I appreciate the loyalty,' Jericho said. ‘But I'm telling you to leave. I'd go with you, but right now my presence is just going to make things worse at the Dog House. You boys need to hear what Vaughn's pitching and take a vote. You want me out? Then I'll go. I won't fight anyone on it.'

‘There'll be consequences for what happened with Karla,' Frost said.

‘And I'll face them,' Jericho said. ‘I won't run from this. I made my choices.'

There was a long pause while Frost stared blankly at some fixed point behind Jericho's head and Reaper pretended to examine his nails. Finally, Frost gave a brisk nod of his head. ‘Fine. We'll clear out then.'

Reaper looked up, surprised, but stood all the same, and Jericho watched suspiciously as both men started their bikes. He watched their taillights weave back down the driveway and towards the main road. When they had disappeared, he walked inside and closed the door behind him, engaging the deadbolt.

Lydia's clothes hung by the lit fireplace and he carefully shifted them about so they'd dry without too many wrinkles. He'd managed to scrub the worst of the blood out of her clothes, save for a few splotches down the front.

When he was done, he grabbed a beer from the fridge and collapsed onto the lounge by the fire, pulling out one of the syringes he'd liberated from the black case in her ute glove compartment. He wondered what Renee would say when he gave it to her. For some mutts, a cure to the virus would be considered a miracle. To the full-blooded families, it was an insult, an implication what they were needed to be cured. He would have to proceed carefully, he knew that.

Eyes dragging to the closed bedroom door, he tried not to think of Lydia lying beyond and what she must be thinking. The beer was cool down his throat and he shifted, trying to get comfortable, hoping she was fast asleep. If she had the virus, then he'd force her to take some of the trial vaccination from Coulter. It was a long shot, but it was all he had.

Exhaling, he blew out a long breath, rubbing eyes that stung from weariness. He took another swallow of the beer and stared blankly into the fire, trying to keep his thoughts from going too dark, feeling torn between standing guard and getting some rest of his own. If Lydia changed and the vaccination didn't work, he'd just deal with it. He'd stay by her side, right to the end.

Chapter 29

Lydia sat at her kitchen table, squinting down at her mother's cramped writing that detailed the physiology and habits of Breed. Which was strange, because she thought Coulter had taken all the files.

‘You're dreaming.'

She looked up to see her mother sitting opposite her at the kitchen table. Jade Gault looked exactly as Lydia remembered, a soft figure with short blonde hair and an open face.

‘Why didn't you tell me?' Lydia held up the files. ‘Why didn't you warn me about Breed and Hunters?'

‘I didn't want to leave you.' Her mother smiled. ‘I didn't want to scare you.'

‘I'm scared now.' Lydia's voice wavered. ‘I've been bitten, and I'm afraid.'

Her mother's face blurred, a silken shadow passing over her features. ‘Beware the blood price, Lydia.'

‘You're not making sense.' Lydia gripped the files tighter. ‘You've left me defenceless.'

‘No.' Her mother gave her head a gentle shake. ‘I've given you everything you need to survive this.'

Lydia stared back down at the files, but the words were blurred now, a jumble of lines that made no sense. When she looked back up, her mother was gone and Coulter sat in her place.

‘You're not welcome here.' She surged to her feet. ‘Get out.'

Coulter's smile widened. ‘You are Gatehouse property, child. I've come to claim you back.'

Lydia opened her mouth to scream at him, when her attention was drawn to Coulter's forearms. As she watched, they broke inwards with a snapping sound, and great looping muscles swelled.

‘You have no options left, Lydia,' Coulter told her through gritted teeth.

She just stared in horror at black coarse hair that sprouted along the Hunter's arms, fingertips cracking open and bloody talons slithering out. She wanted to run, but she knew there was nowhere to go, nowhere safe. She wanted to get up anyway, but her limbs were nightmare heavy, and her feet frozen with fear. She forced her eyes up, to look Coulter in the face. But it wasn't Coulter anymore, it was the man who had tried to destroy her life, installed a well of fear inside of her so deep she knew she'd never escape.