Immortal Coil (38 page)

Perhaps it was a good thing. They’d had an amazing night—if not a couple of troubled days. If they spent the next few months together it would be so much harder to say goodbye. And she’d still be forced to say goodbye in the end.

“Movie not doing it for you?”
Grey slid a sideways glance in her direction.

“No— I mean—” She didn’t care what they watched, although Grey seemed particularly excited about watching anything, so long as it was a movie, and he no longer seemed so uncomfortable. No, she couldn’t just sit there anymore. Not when she knew what needed to be done. If she did it now, would Grey stop her?

Probably.
Hunter had told him to keep an eye on her and Grey struck her as a friend so loyal he’d go against his better judgment to keep his word. “I’m just a little hungry.”

“Oh, right. Movies need food.” He leapt over the back of the couch and grabbed the phone off the desk. “Good call. What do you want?”

She shrugged. “Whatever.” She needed to do it now before she lost her nerve, and that meant getting away from Grey long enough to do it. Pills weren’t an option. She didn’t have any. Neither was jumping out a window. The ones in the suite didn’t open.

She eyed Grey’s sword, leaning against the side of the couch.
Too awkward.

That left her with Hunter’s razor in the bathroom.

Grey’s expression softened and she felt like she was suddenly on display.

She prayed he wouldn’t figure out what she was planning. “I’ll think of something,” he said.

She offered a weak smile and turned back to the television, watching Danny Kaye switch from fool to suave lover with the snap of Angela
Lansbury’s
fingers. Now she knew what Hunter had meant when he said Gray called the Dragon King’s jester
Giacomo
.
The king of jesters and the jester of kings.
And like the Court in the movie, Hunter’s Court was filled with dangers for the unwary. She needed to get up, excuse herself, and do it. But against all desire, she didn’t move.

Come on, she could do this. Hunter needed this sacrifice. And really, she’d pretty much already made the choice when she’d stood on the
Queen
Street
Bridge
—it had just been delayed.

Grey said something into the receiver and she dragged her attention from the Technicolor images.

“I told them to send up their two most popular dinners and desserts.” Grey flopped back onto the sofa.

“Thanks. Why don’t I get some
ice.
” Maybe if she got up for a different reason she could force herself into the bathroom.

Grey hopped back up. “No. You just sit there. I don’t want Hunter thinking I didn’t treat you right.”

She swallowed hard. “Why, thank you, sir,” she said in a weak imitation of a Southern belle.

“Anything for a pretty lady.”
He left with the ice bucket.

She ground her teeth. Come on. Do it. It had to be done.
For Hunter.

His presence glowed within her. Everything that he was would be lost if he was reborn. She was on death’s door anyway. Life had proven she really was worthy of love and as much as she wanted
more,
she just wasn’t going to get it.

I love you.

His presence pulsed.

She clutched the reaction tight to her heart and shoved out of the chair.

Do it now.
Before Grey returned.

She forced one foot in front of the other until she was in the bathroom.

Lock the door.

She locked it and broke Hunter’s plastic razor in the sink.

Don’t think. Just do it.

She shoved the sleeves of her sweater far up her arms, baring her skin.

Seizing the blade, she yanked it down the length of her forearm, elbow to wrist, so fast she didn’t feel anything. Her skin looked perfect and she feared she’d missed. Then fire blossomed over her. The wound spread, revealing a long, deep incision. Blood filled it and spilled over her arm.

Now the other, fast.

Her fingers were numbing already. She ran the blade along the other arm.

Blood seeped down both arms drawing thick, bright lines against the white sink. The pain wasn’t nearly as excruciating as she expected. But then in the last couple of days, she’d been shot and stabbed. Maybe she was getting used to it. What a horrible thought. Or maybe the blood loss and acceptance of her situation blunted the sensation.

Black specks flickered through her vision and she leaned over the sink to brace herself. She’d get dizzy soon. She should have done this in the tub to contain the mess. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that, logical or not, she loved Hunter, he loved her, and she was saving his life.

She concentrated on him, wrapping his presence around her, savoring the memory of making love and the fervor of his emotion.
Thank you, my ferocious love.

Her vision blurred. The black specks disappeared. Something was wrong. She was supposed to be lightheaded and dizzy. What the hell was going on? She wiped the blood from the first incision, revealing a thick red line and no wound.

Her stomach churned.

She wiped the blood from the other arm.
Same thing.

No.

No, no, no. She couldn’t have healed. Hunter wasn’t in her any more. How was she going to save him if she couldn’t kill herself? She was supposed to die so he could live.

Her throat tightened and she swallowed hard against it. It wasn’t fair. Her death could have meant something and now she couldn’t even kill herself.

With a growl, she threw the glass from the counter across the room. It hit the tiled shower stall and shattered.

Footsteps pounded through the suite. “
Anaea
?” called Grey through the bathroom door. “You okay?”

Her eyes burned. No, she wasn’t okay. She couldn’t even kill herself.

“
Anaea
.”
He knocked on the door.

God, she was going to have to face the slow, painful cancer death, and Hunter would be reborn.

The knocking increased and the handle clicked back and forth against the lock.

Except if she could heal her gash, did that mean she could heal her cancer?

The door crashed inward. Grey stood on the threshold, his gaze locked on the blood in the sink.

She’d been too afraid to ask Hunter, too afraid to have any hope. But cancer or no, her presence still endangered him.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to save Hunter.”

“Mother of All, not like this.” He yanked a towel from the rack and grabbed
Anaea’s
wrist.

“Apparently not,” she said, revealing the healed wounds.

Grey jerked back. “You—” His mouth opened and closed but no words came out.

“You have to do it,” she said.

“I what?”

“You made it clear if I’m alive Hunter will be reborn.” She shoved past him, going into the sitting room. This had to be done now, before Hunter returned.

“When did you—?” Grey rushed after her.

She grabbed his sword and held it out to him. “You have to take my head.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Please.” She wasn’t going to be responsible for any more deaths, particularly not Hunter’s.

“I’m not going to kill you.”

She shoved the sword into his hands. “I can’t do it by myself.”

Hunter dashed across the lawn for the trees. He had to get to cover. A gale slammed into his back, whistling around his head, tugging at his clothes. He stumbled, caught his balance, and lengthened his stride. He could not get caught.

Sudden grief and desperation washed over him. His knees buckled.
Anaea
was in trouble. Something was wrong. Every instinct within him knew the emotions were hers. His throat constricted. No. Hers did.

The wind slammed into his side, knocking him down.

He scrambled to his feet and pushed his connection with
Anaea
aside. He had to get out of here first. Then he could comfort her.

Massive chunks of earth shot from the ground. He twisted out of the way, his sheathed sword banging against his thigh. Just a few feet more and he’d reach cover.

The wind slammed him into the closest tree. Light danced across his vision and he staggered forward. Whoever controlled the wind was powerful.

The ball of light zinged around his head. Earth shot up beside him, slicing up his calf and thigh. The wind captured him again, bashing him into another tree.

Pain raced through Hunter’s chest. He gasped for breath. The wind released him and he lurched into the cover of the trees.
Anaea’s
despair burned through him. She didn’t want him to know something. She loved him; it was for the best. But she needed help.

He rushed deeper into the brush, his chest aching. He had to get back to her. With her state of mind, it felt as though she planned something desperate.

Two men crashed through the underbrush, both dragons by their strong auras. The first, a big man with a buzz cut, dove for Hunter. He sidestepped and rammed his fist into the man’s temple, but the other man—also enormous, they could have been twins—was on Hunter fast, punching him in the face.

Pain exploded across Hunter’s forehead and his vision went black. Sight popping in and out of focus, he elbowed Twin Number Two in the gut. Twin
One
stood and Hunter kicked out his legs, toppling him back to the ground. Hunter drew his sword and sliced open Twin Two’s neck. It wouldn’t kill the drake, just hopefully slow him down long enough for an escape.

Twin One grabbed Hunter’s leg but Hunter slashed him across the face and kicked free of his grip. Hunter leapt away. The wind seized him, hurtling him, face first, into a massive tree trunk.

* * *

“I’m not going to kill you.” Grey squeezed the hilt of his weapon, keeping the blade pointed at the ground. “Hunter will have my head.”

Anaea
bit back a roar. “No, he won’t.” If Grey didn’t kill her now, she was going to lose her nerve.

“I would beg to differ on that one.”

Something flickered through Hunter’s presence. Shit. He’d sensed her plan and was coming to stop her.
A part of her thrilled at the thought.
But she couldn’t endanger him any longer. It had to be done.

“They’ll rebirth him. I won’t be responsible for that.”

“There’s got to be another way.” Grey’s knuckles on the hand holding the sword turned white.

Hunter’s presence flickered again then jumped with fierce determination.

“Please, Grey. You said yourself it had to be done. And we both know Hunter won’t do it.”

Hunter had to get back to her. He couldn’t get caught.

Which meant he still didn’t know the details of her plan.

“
Anaea
, I—”

The suite’s door exploded inward. Grey tossed
Anaea
behind the couch, shielding her body from the shrapnel.

Ears ringing, she peeked around its side. Five men in black trench coats stormed into the room, each carrying a sword. Their auras were weak, fluttery, and she got the sense they weren’t dragons.

“What?
Only five?”
Grey asked, sauntering toward them and bringing up his blade.

“Where’s Hunter?” a brawny blond asked, his coat straining against his broad chest.

Anaea
stood. Well, she had needed someone to kill her. “I’m here.”

Grey glared at her, but didn’t argue. He couldn’t without revealing that Hunter had done the forbidden and shared a body with a human. Even if these men had gained their magic in the same way, she didn’t doubt their master would use the knowledge to destroy Hunter.

“This has nothing to do with you, silver drake. Although thanks to you and the bug in your cell phone, Hunter was easy to find.”

The other men chuckled. Grey bared his teeth.

“Now stand back,” Blondie said.

“Not a chance.” Grey leapt at the closest man, slicing open his gut and dropping him to the floor.

Hunter’s presence boiled with frustration.

Blondie stormed toward her. Grey snagged the back of his collar and jerked him back.

Another man with a black goatee stabbed at Grey. He twisted and the blade lanced across Grey’s side while Blondie swung again.
Anaea
leapt around the couch and shoved him. His swing went wild, grazing the sleeve of a shorter assailant.

“Would you get back,” Grey growled. He dodged another blow, barely holding his own against so many.

There was no way he could defeat all of them and he certainly wasn’t going to let them kill her.
Which meant she had to help.
What they needed was magic.
Anaea
pulled at the energy within her, but it didn’t flood to her hands as before.