More than Truth (Arcane Crossbreeds) (8 page)

“There’s a girl.”
Before she could dwell on what her acceptance would cost her, he swept her up in his arms, and she lost all ability to think. His chest was firm and so warm she wanted to burrow in. He carried her easily across the room and into the suite. He didn’t stop until he was in the attached bathroom.

It was pitiful, but when he set her gently on the vanity next to the sink, she wanted to moan from the loss of his heat. The room was dim but not dark, and she relaxed a little. He studied her, brushing his knuckles down her uninjured cheek. His brows drew together, deepening the crease between them. When he stepped away, she gripped the edge of the ceramic top to steady herself.

“Don’t move, love.”

His voice was as low and deep out loud as it was in her mind, and she watched him walk out of the bathroom. A moment later, he reappeared with bottled water and a power bar. He said nothing as he uncapped the water and offered it to her. Her fingers trembled as she wrapped both hands around the cold bottle and lifted it to her lips.

The cool liquid flooded her mouth, and she nearly groaned. She’d thought she’d grown numb against the thirst and hunger, but it all sparked anew with one sip. He watched her with a frown before he turned away to search through the cabinets that flanked the vanity until he found a first aid kit and washcloths.

“Well, at least they had you well stocked,” he murmured and set his supplies on the vanity next to her hip. He flicked the faucet on.

Brit drained half the water bottle before she unwrapped the power bar and took a bite. It tasted like peanut-flavored sawdust, but it would get the job done. She wouldn’t be of any use to her sister or Katya if she was dead on the floor when Incog showed up. She’d already made a tactical error by allowing her temper and pride to put her in this situation.

After swallowing another dry, tasteless bite of the bar, she took a drink of the water and cleared her throat. “What day is it?”

Those russet-green eyes fixed on her as he lifted her hair out of the way and gently tended to her face with the damp cloth. “What’s the last day you remember?”

“Thursday morning.”

His hand paused, and she thought a growl might have rumbled from his broad chest. He glanced around, eyes narrowed in consideration before continuing to clean the dried blood from her face. “It’s Saturday, very late, I would say.”

“Bloody bastard,” Brit hissed. That doctor had kept her in that hole for nearly three whole days. Although the temperature in the room had been controlled, it hadn’t been even close to what she would consider comfortable, and the cement walls and floor had sapped all the heat her body managed to generate. She felt cold from the inside out, and she glanced longingly at the shower stall. A hot shower would be heaven right now.

The man chuckled. “Soon. I want to be sure you’re not seriously injured first, and then you can scald yourself for hours if you like, love.”

Brit watched him set aside the cloth and dig through the first-aid kit to pull out an antiseptic wipe. The endearment felt familiar, but she hadn’t even known Tag had a brother. “Have we met? You seem to know me, but I can’t say the same.”

He paused for a long moment before ripping open the packet and pulling the wipe out. “We met a long time ago. I knew your family.”

Brit looked down at the wrinkled material of her slacks and smoothed her fingers over the worst of the creases. She wanted to ask how he knew her parents, but she didn’t want to open up that particular wound. “It must have been long ago, then.”

He tipped her face up with a knuckle below her chin, and she met his gaze. The greens and browns in his eyes were a fractured kaleidoscope around his pupils and soft with understanding. “Yes. Another life,” he said and gave her a reassuring smile before lifting the antiseptic wipe. “This might burn a bit.”

The line between his brows deepened again as he focused on what he was doing, and Brit winced when he gently touched the pad to her skin. She took advantage of his distraction to study him, to try to determine why she was so drawn to him.

The man was clean-shaven and, coupled with the full head of curls, it made his face look thinner than Tag’s, but every other feature was the same. Right down to the wide nose and full lips. She wondered if they would be as warm and as soft as Tag’s? Would his kiss be just as aggressive? The thoughts came unbidden, and Brit shook her head to clear them away.

A small smile lifted one side of those lips, and she wondered if he was reading her mind again. Good God, she hoped not. She strengthened her mental walls in case and cleared her throat. “What’s your name?”

“Dr. Vincent Jennings,” he murmured distractedly and inspected the tear in her shirt with a frown that was deepening the furrow between his brows. “I want to check your ribs.” He rumbled the words and gently slid the bottom of her blouse up to just beneath her breasts, his knuckles brushing the undersides. Vin’s eyes shifted, the pupils elongating for one heartbeat, but he blinked, and when he lifted his eyelids, his pupils once again appeared normal. His hands were so warm, and her chilled flesh soaked it up, craving even more as he tenderly pressed around her middle. “How is your breathing?”

“Easy,” Brit murmured and tried not to think about his fingers touching her belly and ribs. “What kind of doctor are you?”

“PhD. Genetics and bioengineering.” His voice was hoarse, and the sound of it had the effect of a cat’s rough tongue over her senses. He smoothed her shirt back into place. “It doesn’t look like anything is broken, but you’re pretty colorful.”

“Understandably so. Those bastards managed to land several kicks despite how dark it was.” And it had been dark. Like the pitch her papa had used to waterproof his boat when she was child in Ireland. While she’d been sitting on the cold concrete floor trying to blink away the inkiness that surrounded her, she’d remembered the look of the tar in his bucket, thick and so black it didn’t even reflect the watery sun overhead. That was what the darkness had started to feel like to her, heavy and oppressive, coating her until she feared no light would ever penetrate it.

A chill rolled through her, raising bumps over her flesh.

“It’s all right, love. No harm will come to you again. I swear it.” The promise should have felt dramatic and inappropriate, but somehow his words were comforting and right, as were the thick arms that enfolded her shivering body. He rubbed his hands gently up and down her arms.

God, when had she started shivering? The material of his button-down shirt was soft beneath her cheek, and she drew in a deep breath. He smelled so good she swore she could taste him on her lips. Her nipples hardened and drew up into painful points as desire pooled low in her belly. This was going too far. She was vulnerable and cold and so very tired. She’d refused to do more than doze lightly in that room for fear she would never wake up, and soon it had been hard to tell if she was asleep or awake; the blackness was the same.

Tag had plagued her thoughts, her carefully hidden longing for him rising in the silence and darkness of the room until it lay raw and open on the surface. She was afraid she was responding to this man—Vincent—because he looked so much like Tag. Having Vincent against her was like she imagined it would feel to be held by Tag. How many times during the endless moments in that hell had she wished for that?

Thunder rumbled low through Vin’s chest, and he pulled away after a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s get you warmed up. You’ll feel human again after a shower.”

Brit swallowed hard as the chill air curled back around her in the absence of his heat. She sat obediently and attempted to gather her senses back into a neat pile while he started the shower and gathered towels from the cabinet. Wouldn’t the agents at Incog be shocked to see her huddled on the vanity, craving the touch of a stranger? She wasn’t oblivious; she knew what they thought of her. Cold. Clinical. They said she made them feel like she was looking at them through a microscope.

A harsh, brittle laugh escaped, and she quickly lifted the water bottle to drain the remaining liquid before any more of that hideous sound slipped past her lips. She wasn’t beaten. She’d been through worse, but she did need to regroup, and this man, Tag’s brother, made her feel safe enough to do that.

Vin lifted her down, and his hazel eyes studied her. That scrutiny was unnerving. He stared at her as though he were starved for the sight, his intense gaze almost a caress. Her body responded as if it were, sparks of arousal skittering down her flesh until her heart pounded so loudly she was sure he could hear it.

“Do you need help getting undressed?”

Brit stepped back and shook her head before her lips could betray her and say yes just so she could feel his hands on her again. The small room was filled with the sound of rushing water. Steam gathered, the wet heat of it swirling heavily against her flesh like a phantom caress. It was too intimate; she needed some distance before she did something foolish.

His gaze was hooded—heated—as he looked down into her upturned face. There were a precious few inches between their bodies, and she could feel the warmth of his chest through their clothes. It made her go liquid low in her belly with an instant arousal that startled her. When his pupils expanded and his nostrils flared, she knew he was aware of it too.

“I’ll be just outside the door. I saw a microwave and some instant soup. You can eat a little more and drink another water before you try to get some sleep.”

Not trusting her voice, she merely nodded and watched him retreat. She undressed quickly and stepped into the shower.

By the time she turned the water off, her skin was pruned and she had her emotions carefully managed, firmly reminding herself she hadn’t accomplished what she’d come here for. If what Vin said was true, Incog would be arriving soon, and she had yet to acquire the data she needed to save Katya as well as any information on where they were keeping her sister.

Swathed in thick white towels, Brit stepped out of the shower and froze. There was a collection of hygiene supplies on the vanity. Vin must have come back while she was in the shower. She glanced back at the frosted walls of the shower stall and decided with no little relief that he couldn’t have possibly seen much while he was in here. Brit was a scientist and viewed the body and sex in an impersonal manner, but Tag—and now Vin—made them feel very personal somehow.

The mundane tasks of brushing her teeth and hair comforted her, giving her fortitude to face Vin, especially since the only item of clothing left besides the ones she’d been wearing was a large button-down cotton shirt. She was almost positive it was the one he’d been wearing, which had her imagining him sitting in that big red chair with his wide chest and broad shoulders bare. Or sprawled on the bed, all that creamy dark skin—

Oh God, she needed to stop now before she lost all the ground she’d gained during her long shower. She had herself under control, but it was paper-thin and would shred with the least provocation. What she needed was rest so she could put some distance between her and this frustrating vulnerability that plagued her. For days she’d heard nothing but her own breathing, and the impenetrable darkness had soon turned into a screen for her every regret and nightmare to be projected against. Her fears were still so close to the surface she was afraid merely closing her eyes would bring them back. She’d thought about Tag, fantasized really. Crazy, impossible fantasies. And now Vin was here, and he didn’t feel like a stranger to her.

Maybe it was because he looked so much like Tag or because she just needed the comfort and strength. Whatever it was, she was susceptible to him right now. After what she’d done to Tag, she couldn’t compound it by sleeping with his brother.

Pushing the bathroom door open, she saw he’d pulled a small side table to the bed and there was another bottle of water as well as two containers of packaged, premade soups. Appearing to be asleep, he was sitting in the chair, feet propped on the matching ottoman, massive arms folded over his bare chest. Her mouth watered at all that bronzed flesh. And the tattoo that engulfed his left arm.

“It’s beautiful.”

Vin opened his eyes, and they looked more green than brown as his gaze wandered down the oversized shirt and over her bare legs. The shirttails just brushed the tops of her knees. She wore skirts the same length in the lab, but somehow this felt more provocative—maybe because in the lab she wore undergarments and hose. Right now she didn’t have the added protection of any of those things under his shirt.

“What’s beautiful?”

Brit smoothed her hands down her thighs and quickly made her way across the room to sit on the bed. He’d pulled the sheets back for her. Oddly, that soothed her enough to relax—a little. She nodded to the intricate serpent wrapped around the thick muscle of his forearm. “Your tattoo. Most Drachon have them?”

Vin dropped his feet to the floor and leaned forward to uncap their soups and unscrew the top on her water. “All males. It’s a reflection of the daemos.”

Brit took a tentative sip of the soup and grimaced. It was an unexplainable and particularly foul taste, but she knew better than to be picky when options were limited. “Daemos?” she repeated thoughtfully. She’d heard that before. “Dragon spirit.”

He frowned down at the top of the soup he’d just taken a sip from. “As boys we are taken under the tutelage of a spiritual leader called a
mantis
. We’re trained and tested until our daemos makes itself known. Then the mantis draws it on our skin, at which point we are considered to have entered manhood.”

Brit studied the tattoo as she considered his explanation. The Drachon were so secretive about their culture, she knew very little about them. Treating Raife Merrick and his mate had given her a surprising education. The males went through heat cycles until about the age of fifty, at which time, if they didn’t find a mate, they began to experience cellular degeneration.

Vin’s tattoo was a long serpentine dragon. The head started on the uppermost curve of his shoulder, the elongated snout closed, emerald-green eyes glittering with a tranquil awareness. The body wound around his bicep and forearm, wings folded tightly against its thin body until the tail twined around his wrist. The entire dragon appeared to be a muted green, but as Brit stared at it, each individual scale reflected a myriad of colors until the resulting effect was incandescent—alive. Yet when she blinked and refocused her eyes, it appeared a simple muted green again.