Night Reigns (12 page)
“I trust you won’t resort to such with Ami.”
Marcus frowned. “Of course not.”
“Good.” Seth rose. “I’d better go talk to Reordon. He’ll be furious when he finds out one of his own may be conspiring with vampires. Then I’ll see if I can’t get to the bottom of what happened.”
Nodding, Marcus rose. “You know, for a moment earlier, I thought Ami might have been infected.”
Seth stiffened. “She was bitten?” Ami’s physiology was different, neither human nor
gifted one.
He wasn’t sure what the virus might do to her.
gifted one.
He wasn’t sure what the virus might do to her.
“No-no. It’s just ... Those bruises formed so quickly and her cuts ... I thought she might be healing at an accelerated rate.”
A question hung in the words.
Seth chose his own carefully. “Some people bruise more easily than others,” he said with a shrug. It wasn’t a lie. Some people did. If Ami wanted to tell Marcus the truth, she would.
Reaching out, Seth placed his hand on Marcus’s chest and siphoned away his wounds and pain. He also peeked at Marcus’s memories of the battle and shuddered at how close to death Ami had come.
It was a hell of a thing. Seth had promised to protect her, then placed her directly in danger’s path.
Marcus rolled his shoulders and drew in a long, deep breath, probably the first since Seth had broken his ribs. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You look like hell. Grab yourself some blood and a shower and take tomorrow night off.” He didn’t want Ami left unprotected while she recuperated.
“All right.”
No arguments? Really?
Why did that leave Seth feeling so uneasy?
Offering a last good night, he teleported himself to Chris Reordon’s office.
Screams of pain filled Ami’s head. Agonized. Full of despair. So many she lost count.
Hour after hour. Day after day. Week after week. Month after month.
Strange, how they paused each time she drew in a jagged breath, even though she didn’t voice them aloud. Never aloud. Never again. Even if she could unlock her tightly clenched teeth.
Shivers racked her bare body. The cold steel against her back was wintry, the manacles at her wrists and ankles like blocks of ice. Even the leather strap stretched tight across her forehead was cold.
Why had she come here? She had been warned that humans would greet her with violence, but naively had hoped for warmth and friendship. Curiosity, perhaps.
Well, they had indeed greeted her with curiosity. But it was a vile, sadistic curiosity that she could never have imagined.
She tried to look around, but couldn’t move and, thus, could see very little. As usual, the monsters covered their hair and faces with green masks and caps. Their hands bore semiclear protective gloves when they swam into her range of vision.
Her torturers spoke behind those masks, but she couldn’t hear them. She had heard nothing but her own mental cries since they had deafened her an hour earlier.
One of the butchers leaned over and dangled a tool in front of her eyes that looked like something one might use to cut flowers or trim small tree branches. His eyes crinkled at their edges, smiling with such malice.
He hated her, took pleasure in hurting her. She wished she could understand why.
Ami followed his progress with dread as he circled the table and stood by her right side. His soft fingers—so warm compared to her own—slipped beneath hers, and lifted them from the steel surface.
What felt like the blade of a knife touched the underside of her pinky finger. Another touched the top. Agony shot through her hand and up her arm. More screams erupted in her head.
What had he done?
He leaned over her again to show her something, eyes taunting and watching her closely.
She struggled to focus on the small, pale, blurry ovals pinched between his thumb and index finger. The indistinct objects looked as though he had dipped one end in something red.
She didn’t know what they were, why he wanted her to see them, until he turned them over and she saw the nails.
Her fingers. He had cut off her two smallest fingers at the first knuckle.
Silent wails of anguish echoed within the confines of her skull. Roars of fury. Prayers for death. Vows of vengeance. Coherent thought fled, replaced by the spitting, slathering ramblings of an animal kicked once too often.
Then, amidst the madness: a voice. Deep. Calm. Soothing. One she had heard before and labeled a meaningless manifestation of her slowly fragmenting mind.
We are here,
it said.
He
said. Louder. Almost as if he stood just outside the room.
We will be with you soon, little one, and will take you far away from here.
it said.
He
said. Louder. Almost as if he stood just outside the room.
We will be with you soon, little one, and will take you far away from here.
Her mind silenced.
Just a little longer, then you will be free.
A cruel trick. Nothing more. Yet she begged the voice to hurry. To do as he promised and set her free. Or kill her and end her misery.
A scalpel sank into her chest, pressed deep, then began carving a path down between her breasts.
Tears welled. The bright white lights above her wavered, then solidified as the moisture spilled down her temples and her vision cleared.
Cold metal slipped into this newest wound, cracked her chest open, and left it gaping wide, her heart exposed to the monsters hovering around her.
Yes, only death would end this, she decided. She only wished she could take the monsters with her.
It was her last coherent thought before scalding electricity burned through her and everything went white.
Marcus couldn’t recall ever having seen someone become trapped within the confines of a nightmare before.
It wasn’t like in the movies. Ami’s head didn’t thrash back and forth on her pillow. She didn’t toss and turn and become entangled in the sheets. She didn’t speak or call out. She didn’t suddenly lurch into a sitting position and wake with a horrified scream.
Somehow what she did seemed so much worse than the fictionalized versions. Had he not been watching her as closely as he had been for the past ten hours, he wouldn’t even have noticed the nightmare ensnare her.
Ami lay on her back, as she had for most of the day. Her breathing hitched once, twice, thrice as though she were sobbing so hard in her dreams that her physical body couldn’t help but manifest a response. Her eyes moved restlessly behind pale, closed lids. Tears welled in the corners, then spilled over her lashes and quietly trailed down her temples. Her body twitched. Such a slight movement. Hardly discernible. Her hands clenched in the covers, clutching the soft material so tightly her knuckles whitened.
The vaguest trace of a whimper sounded deep in her throat. It hinted of pain. And fear.
Of what did she dream?
Unsure how to help her, Marcus reached out and cupped his hand over her forearm, gave it a light, reassuring stroke.
Her whole body jerked. Her eyes opened, blinked, sought his face in the dim room. “What?” she asked, as though they had been conversing and she hadn’t quite caught the last thing he had said.
“You were having a nightmare,” he whispered.
“Oh.”
She sat up, dislodging his hand, and shoved the covers down. Scooting to the edge of the bed, she stood, walked into the bathroom and closed the door.
Marcus didn’t think she was aware of her own nakedness and sorely wished he hadn’t noticed it himself. Once Seth had left, Marcus had removed her bra, panties, and bandages and sponged the dried blood off of her.
Ami had a beautiful body. Slender. Athletic. Muscles honed from her training, but neither bulky nor masculine. Narrow waist. Flat abs. Full hips. Round, firm ass. Breasts large enough to fill his hands.
Pure perfection.
No matter how much clothing she wore in the future, every time he looked at her he would be helpless against imagining her like this. Which meant he would spend the entirety of her years as his Second with a raging erection.
Lovely.
How the hell would he hide it from her?
How the hell would he hide it from her?
The toilet flushed. Water ran in the sink. The bathroom door opened, and Ami shuffled over and climbed back into bed.
Swallowing hard, Marcus rose and leaned over her to draw the covers up to her chin.
One of her hands reached out and captured his. Intertwining their fingers, she sighed and rolled away from him, taking his hand with her.
Marcus stood for a moment, back bent, hand now tucked against her chest as she slipped into slumber.
Awkward.
“Screw it,” he muttered. He was exhausted and could use some sleep himself. Lowering himself to the mattress, he slipped beneath the covers and spooned up behind her.
Perhaps his presence would keep her nightmare from returning.
Yes, of course it would.
At least, that was what he told himself as he buried his face in her hair and nestled closer.
Ami woke, instantly alert. Rested. No aches or pains. No fear or anxiety. Warm.
So warm.
“Go back to sleep,” a deep voice murmured in her ear. “It was just a nightmare.”
For a moment, she forgot to breathe.
Marcus was in her bed, his hard body spooned up behind her, one arm tucked around her and clutching hers near her chest, his wrist brushing her breast. His breath tickled the back of her neck and stirred her hair as he yawned and cuddled closer.
“Marcus?”
“Hmm?” He sounded like he was half asleep.
“What’s going on?”
She had never been this close to a man before. Every inch of Marcus’s front—covered in some soft, thin material—was pasted to every inch of her back. Her bare back. And it felt ... so good.
No wonder such close contact had been forbidden her.
Leaning up on one elbow, Marcus withdrew his hand and urged her to roll onto her back.
Ami stared up at him, heart racing. His lids were at half mast, his jaw heavily stubbled. His long, raven hair was deliciously tousled, dangling in his face and giving him a handsome, piratical look not unlike Jack Sparrow.
“Are you awake?” he asked, brushing her hair back from her forehead.
“Yes,” she answered.
He pursed his lips and squinted playfully. “You
seem
awake.”
seem
awake.”
She raised one eyebrow. “As opposed to when I seem asleep?”
He grinned. “You’re definitely awake. How do you feel?”
When he sat up, she saw that he was wearing a thin gray T-shirt and worn black sweatpants. She also saw the entirety of her bare breasts and stomach as the covers fell back with him.
Gasping, she grabbed the sheet and yanked it up to her chin.
“Oh.” He shifted around a bit to give her more material to work with and drew the blanket over his lap. “Sorry about that.”
Heat climbing her cheeks, she nodded, then froze.
Her bruises were gone. And her cuts. And he had seen it. Why wasn’t he asking her how she had healed so quickly?
“I didn’t betray you and call Roland,” Marcus said, watching her. “Seth healed you.”
Thank goodness.
“He did? When?”
“He did? When?”
“While you were sleeping.”
“Oh.”
“I ...” He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable, and motioned to the bed they occupied. “I was worried about you. Seth told me you would be fine, but ... I was reluctant to leave you until you woke up. And you were having nightmares. I thought ... hoped ... my presence would soothe you.”
“Did it?” she asked curiously.
“Yes.”
“Thank you.” The first time Darnell had awoken her from a nightmare, she had come up swinging. “I didn’t hit you, did I? Or tell you about the dreams?” The memories?
“No.”
Good.
“Thank you, Ami,” Marcus said softly. “I didn’t have the chance to say it before.”
“For what?” she asked, perplexed. She had been nothing but a pain in his backside ever since Seth had assigned her to him.
“For saving my life. I could never have stood alone against so many vampires. If you had left as I’d urged you to, they would have either captured me or destroyed me.”
And if she had left, some of those vampires could very well have followed and killed her, though that hadn’t been what had driven her to stay. “I think we saved each other last night,” she told him with a smile.
“Actually it was the night before last. You’ve slept the clock around. And are no doubt famished.” Patting her covered knee, he turned away and stood with his back to her. “I’ll go fix us some brunch.”
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