Moon Kissed (11 page)

“Let’s go.”

 
He followed her as she left the closet and strode across the room to the window. She didn’t bother with the drapes, ripping them right from the wall. A loud crash resonated from the other end of the apartment.

No more time. We have to get out.

Measuring the distance, she stepped back and spun around. One kick broke through glass and shattered the pane. Dark shapes flittered in her peripheral vision and she heard a horrible snarl. Spinning around, she faced her enemies. At first, she assumed the noise came from the three-headed Cerberus that stood several feet away, with muzzles strong enough to break bones and rip off limbs. She was shocked that someone would take the risk of summoning a hound from the gates of Hades just to kill her. The beastly animal relied purely on instinct, driven to kill. Nothing could deter it.

Then she saw the creature beside her.

Instead of facing the unknown as a man, Wolfe had transformed to greet their visitor. He was as large as a pony, with broad shoulders and an enormous head. His clothing was in tatters, resting at his feet. She glanced down.
Good God.
His paws were the size of dinner plates. His glossy black fur rippled as he shifted his muscular shoulders. He never turned to look at her, keeping his eyes straight ahead as his low growl filled the room.

The Cerberus moved and Wolfe pounced on the creature. His massive jaws went for the throat of one of the heads. When he had a hold of his target, she heard the horrific crunch of bone. The second head snapped at Wolfe’s shoulder along with the third, their sharp teeth sinking into his flesh.

She went for her Berettas but stopped when a dull pain penetrated her back. Thrown off balance, she threw her weight to the right. Her glasses slid off her nose, slipped from her ears and skittered across the floor. Another pain—this one far worse—almost set her on her ass. Blood splattered as a bullet exited her torso and landed in the wall across from her.

Wolfe’s bray of fury seemed far away.

She spun toward the window and aimed.

Son of a bitch, the Cerberus is a decoy.

She’d been so caught up in getting Wolfe away that she hadn’t even considered it.

She got a shot off before another bullet hit her in the chest. She staggered at the impact, dropping to her knees. The rotten odor coming from her wound told her she was good and fucked. She pressed a hand against the area, got her palm coated in the bloody mess and lifted it to her face. Her heart sank when she saw her blood streaked with black.

Oh no.

The horrible stench of burning flesh and scorched sulfur made her gag. She shoved her fingers inside the wound, ripping through the torn tissue. The gold round embedded above her left breast wouldn’t kill her, but the demon magic attached to it certainly would. She could feel poison spreading from the wound, the promise of death corroding her system.

The tips of her fingers butted against the white hot metal and she bit her lip to remain quiet. She watched Wolfe through a thin veil of tears as he worked on the third head of the beast he’d yet to kill. He’d obviously wanted to come to her, more than likely able to smell her blood when she was hit. Gashes marked his hind legs and rear, as though the Cerebus had torn into him when he’d tried to break away.

He’s fine. Take care of yourself. Get the fucking bullet out!

The round cracked when she went for it another time, making it impossible to feel the tiny pieces properly. She wanted to scream out the window and call the bastard shooting at a safe distance a coward, but she figured playing dead was even better. If she survived this, she wouldn’t need to let her would-be assailant know he’d gotten the best of her. She’d let the spineless asshole tell his employer he’d gotten the job done and let him sleep easy until she tracked him down and put a hollow-point between his eyes.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

She didn’t notice it had become quiet, time folding in on itself. No more snarls filled the room. The booming thumps of her heart were almost deafening in her head. Wolfe appeared and pried her hand from her wound. Lowering his head, he inhaled deeply. His jaw clenched, and she felt the rage pouring off him.

“It has to come out,” he told her hoarsely, his voice cracking with the strain.

She nodded. “I can’t get a grip on it.”

He took another deep breath and instructed, “Close your eyes.”

She felt the tips of his claws pierce her skin, but she managed to remain silent. He was trying to help her, not hurt her. Revealing the agony she experienced would only make things harder on him. Thankfully he didn’t extend her suffering by being gentle, choosing to be fast instead. When he had a grip of the cursed object, he removed it. She wanted to scream when the bullet eased from her blistered flesh, sending a torrent of blood down her chest.

“Fuck. It’s already splintered. I can smell the magic.” He sounded terrified, the fingers holding the round trembling. “The poison is already in your system.”

She wanted to tell him not to worry, that she’d survived worse, but the darkness that surrounded her was too strong. Using the last of her willpower, she pressed a kiss to the area above his heart and sagged in his arms. She understood his panic, aware that the clock was ticking.

“Trevor,” she mumbled. “Take me to him. He’ll know what to do.”

He lifted her, saying something she couldn’t make out. She tried to stay awake but it was too late. The toxin had already invaded her system and she’d lost too much blood. Even if Wolfe got her help, the damage could be more than Trevor could fix.

The room swayed with his steps, as though she were drifting in the ocean before the tide rose up to claim her. With a sigh, she closed her eyes. It could have been worse. She could have died before she knew the touch of a real lover, or knew how it felt to have her body worshipped from head to toe. He’d given her what she’d always wanted but never knew she needed, mere minutes that erased a lifetime of regret.

Her thoughts slipped, so she focused on one thing.

At the very least, she’d kept Wolfe from harm.

No matter what happened, he’d live to see another day.

If she died as a consequence, so be it.

Chapter Nine

Wolfe studied Arden’s sleeping face, relieved to see her free of the pain that ravaged her body just hours before. A selfish part of him wished she’d open her eyes and reassure him. He wanted to hear her voice and know she was truly okay. The last few hours had been the longest of his existence.

“She’s out for the count,” Trevor said as he crept into the bedroom. “Beak of nightingale is some serious shit. She won’t open those pretty peepers of hers for a few days. You might as well get comfortable.”

“You’re certain the poison is gone?”

“Absolutely.” The warlock shot him an annoyed look. “I know what I’m doing. The toxins have left the building.”

Wolfe’s gaze returned to his mate. Trevor thought the bullet came from a vampyren gold vault, meaning the fucking bastards were hiring assassins to take out his mate. His heart constricted with grief and fear
.
She could have died today.

If I hadn’t been there, she would have.

“You’re right.” Trevor interrupted his thoughts. “If you hadn’t been there, she would have died today.”

Wolfe ripped his attention from his female. “You’re telepathic?”

“Not exactly. I’m an empath. That’s how I met Arden. Her perception and emotions drew me to her.”

“How so?” he asked, frowning.

Trevor walked to the other side of the bed and looked at the woman whose life he’d saved. He studied her for several seconds, worry apparent on his face. “I haven’t shared this knowledge with anyone, lycae. The only reason I’m willing to give it to you is because of the connection the two of you share. Arden isn’t a run of the mill dhampir. She is also cursed with clairsentience through touch. Do you know what that is?”

“I do.” The ability to perceive events and emotions through physical contact was rare but not unheard of. He’d seen witches with the ability decades before, when a lycae mated a mortal Seer.

Trevor seemed pleased. “Good. You’re not as stupid as you look.” The warlock ignored his growl of contempt and asked, “Are you also aware a select few are cursed with the third eye? Do you know what that is as well?”

Annoyance fled as horror took its place.

The third eye led to madness, especially if the person with the ungodly trait kept enough chaos and turmoil locked away in their minds. The horrific atrocities they endured and experienced through touch built up until they could no longer function.

“Silence gets you nowhere,” Trevor said. “I can sense your unrest. Don’t forget that.”

Wolfe met the other man’s gaze, releasing another low growl. “What are you trying to tell me?” he snarled. “That my mate absorbs the anguish of others and will eventually go mad?”

Trevor snorted and shook his head. “She can take the misery of another, but she doesn’t have to keep it. She can pass it onto another. That’s how she vanquished the demon I wanted to destroy.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“I’m not surprised. People with the gift are extremely rare, and they only exist in families touched by magic. You can’t understand what you never see. I don’t know much about Cricket’s mother. That’s a subject she doesn’t like to talk about. But I believe she was either witch or Wiccan. It’s the only way her daughter could have inherited the gift.”

Wolfe crouched and lowered his face to Arden’s. She was beautiful in sleep, her long lashes fanning over her cheeks. He brushed his finger over her brow, thinking about what the warlock said. Lifting a strand of her white-blonde hair, he asked, “Is that why she has so many enemies?”

“Uh, that’d be a
no
,” Trevor drawled, folding his arms over his chest. “She has enemies because she left the Thymeria, got into the bounty hunting business and went in search of vampyren heads. Along the way, she took down whatever stood in her path—most of whom have family who hold a grudge. Cricket isn’t stupid. She knows if anyone discovered what she can do, she’d be a dead dhampir walking. Death by touch isn’t something immortals are keen on.”

Pounding at the door brought Wolfe to his feet. A deep and menacing snarl traveled up his throat. He hadn’t saved his mate to lose her now. In fact, he wanted to get her away from the warlock’s apartment as soon as possible. He’d checked in with a few members of the pack and apprised them of the situation. There were several safe houses available for use. Once he got her there, he could put guards in place. He had the resources to protect her.

“Down, Cujo.” Trevor scowled and lowered his arms. “It’s only the delivery boy. I ordered a pizza since I’m stuck here and the fridge is empty. I wasn’t expecting guests, you see.”

Wolfe followed Trevor to the bedroom door and stopped. He leaned against the frame, blocking his female from view. Trevor crossed the room, removed a wallet from his back pocket and opened his new and improved front door. A teenage boy stood just outside holding a pizza box. The fragrant aroma of various meats and cheese drifted to Wolfe’s nose.

“Keep the change.”

Trevor shoved a wad of cash into the boy’s hand and grasped the pizza box. He slammed the door without a thank you or good-bye and walked to the table nestled between the living room and the kitchen. He plopped the box down, opened it and removed a slice. Easing into a chair, he glanced at Wolfe.

“Care to join me?”

Not particularly.
“Don’t you worry about things like poison?”

“Nah. I only order food from Petrelli’s. I saved their son from a rage poltergeist a few years back.” He lifted the slice to his mouth and took an enormous bite. After a loud swallow, he added, “This pizza is clean.”

Wolfe eased his shoulder from the wall and walked over. It had been hours since he’d eaten and since he was a shifter, he needed all the calories he could get. Taking a seat across from Trevor, he pulled a steamy slice from the box. The first bite was fucking amazing. The pizza tasted as good as it smelled, cheese oozing and the meat piping hot.

“Good, isn’t it?”

Wolfe nodded and consumed the slice in seconds. When he finished, he reached for another. Only this time he chewed slowly, savoring the flavors.

“Have you decided what you’re going to do about this situation?” Trevor asked.

“I’m taking her to New York.”

Wolfe braced himself for an outburst or argument. He’d accepted Arden was close to Warlock Judge, even if it had been difficult at first. His jealousy, while natural, wasn’t something she needed to deal with. When Trevor didn’t respond, Wolfe looked at him. The man seemed to be mulling over the idea.

“Once she’s settled,” Wolfe continued, “I’ll return and request a meeting with Lucius Mercoix. I’ll make sure he understands Arden isn’t a threat to him. With her being so far away, I’m certain I can convince him to leave her alone.”

“You’re delusional.” Trevor snorted. “Cricket will never agree to that.”

“We’ll see,” he replied briskly.

Arden wouldn’t agree to leave, nor would she promise to leave Lucius Mercoix alone—not right away. She’d already told him as much before she’d been attacked. He only hoped she’d at least agree to leave well enough alone until Adam returned and Wolfe’s obligation to his cousin’s pack was over. They had to come to an understanding. She didn’t seem suicidal. He’d felt her concern for him when they’d been attacked.