Return of the Assassin (All the King's Men) (35 page)

"I expect nothing less from you,
piccolina.
" He trailed his fingertips down her neck.

"Oh? Why's that?"

He buried his face against the side of her neck, inhaled, held her precious scent on his tongue, and then exhaled. "Because you've been nothing but trouble since I met you, and, oh baby, I've loved every second of it."

She giggled, and the sound was like butterflies flittering through silver chimes. "Except for that whole suffering thing, right? I'm sure you didn't enjoy that."

"Well, except for
that.
" He smiled against her skin. "Otherwise, I wouldn't trade a single moment."

Her fingers combed through his hair, and she kissed his temple. "I love you," she whispered.

If only he could crawl inside her skin, because he couldn't hold her close enough. "I love you, too."

For a long moment, nothing was said, and then Gina whispered. "Take me home, Malek. Take me home and be my mate for the rest of my life."

Home. The word held new meaning, because she
was
his home. He dwelled within her now, and she dwelled within him. No matter what happened from here on out, nothing would change that.

"For the rest of mine," he said and picked her up.

Once he found a ride out of there, he planned on starting the rest of his life with her, in
their
home, in their bed, and in every way imaginable.

Now and forever.

Micah made his way back to the room where Gina had died only minutes ago—and then was brought back to life—to find Trace's brother lying on the bed. His pallor looked nothing like it had when he greeted him up front. The guy now looked grey and transparent. Someone had taken off his shirt, and his blood vessels showed through his skin like red and blue lines on a roadmap.

"What's wrong with him?" he asked as the door swung shut behind him and Sev. Most of the others had left the room and stood in the hall, but Lakota had stayed behind. He held a waste can at the side of the bed.

The woman who came with him, Cynthia, glanced up as Brak rolled to his side. Lakota quickly stepped forward with the trash can, and Brak vomited into it. It looked like he had been vomiting a lot.

"Whatever he pulled from the woman made him very ill," Cynthia said.

Shit. No kidding. "Is he going to be okay?" Micah stepped to the side of the bed. If only he could do something to help. However Brak had done it, he had saved lives tonight. Gina's, Malek's…and a little piece of everyone on Micah's team, who now stood outside in the hall and had looked as helpless as he felt.

Cynthia stroked her fingers over Brak's brow as he rolled to his back and shivered. "Ssshhh, sweetie. It's okay. I'm here." She met Micah's gaze. "This is normal. He always gets sick when he returns to his body. But he's especially ill this time. What was wrong with the woman?"

"She was cut by the Reaper's Blade."

Cynthia frowned. Micah could see from her thoughts that she had no idea what the Reaper's Blade was. Micah wasn't surprised since she was human.

"The Reaper's Blade is deadly to vampires," Micah said. "Once it breaks skin, no matter how small the cut, death is inevitable."

Cynthia nodded and turned her gaze back toward Brak, whose teeth chattered. "He's burning up."

Micah grabbed a towel from a nearby shelf, tore it in half, and shoved the pieces toward Sev. "Wet these." Then he glanced at Lakota, who still looked unnerved from earlier. "Kota, go tell the nurse to bring me a bowl of water and ice."

Lakota set down the trash can and disappeared out the door, and Sev returned with the towels. "I don't understand. If they have this…Reaper's Blade…can't they just use it and kill us all?" he said softly.

Poor Sev. The guy really had missed out on a lot.

Micah took the towels and pressed them to Brak's forehead and neck, then looked over his shoulder at Severin. "The blade can only be used once every twelve lunar cycles. The magic requires the moon to regenerate its power or some shit, so the Dacians reserve the blade to be used only for the most notorious of those they've marked for death. So the legends say."

He turned back toward Brak and dabbed the towel on his face. This was Trace's twin. His best friend's flesh and blood. He was going to tend to Brak as he would Trace and make sure he survived whatever was happening to him.

"I see," Sev said. "So, now that they've used the blade, the playing field is level. Is that what you're saying?"

Micah liked the tone in Sev's voice that said the lightbulb was turning on.

"Exactly." With a nod, he picked up on the thoughts of the others in the hall. They seemed to have come to the same conclusion Sev had and were ready to hunt those fuckers down. If they
were going to strike, the time was now, because the Reaper's Blade was about as ineffective against them as a cat scratch…and would be for the next twelve full moons.

Brak moaned and brought Micah's attention back down. "He'll get better, right?" He looked at Cynthia.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I've never seen him so ill." Her voice was filled with worry. "This is really bad."

"How did he do that, anyway?" Sev asked. "How did he heal Gina like that?"

"It's his gift," Cynthia said with a sad smile as she caressed his cheek. "He was made to heal." Bitterness crept into her voice. "But those who enslaved him before used him for evil. They made him kill." She pulled Brak's hand to her lips as tears welled in her eyes. "But you're free now, sweetie. You're free. So you have to get better, you hear me? You have to enjoy your freedom and not be sick. Your brother needs you."

Brak moaned again softly and blinked his eyes open to meet Micah's gaze. "Trace. Is he okay? Is he safe?" His voice croaked quietly.

Micah nodded. "Yes. He's safe."

"But…prison…?"

Micah shook his head and rubbed his thumb up and down Brak's pulse point to calm him. "He's okay. He helped a friend, but had to break the law to do so. He was sentenced to a short time in custody, but he's due out in a few days. You'll see him then."

Brak shivered but grinned. "You're a good friend…you and Sam."

How the hell did Brak know about Sam? "Yes we are." Trace practically lived with him and Sam now. The three of them had a special friendship that grew stronger every day, and Sam yearned for Trace to be released from the king's dungeon as much as Micah did. They needed him as much as Trace needed them.

Micah realized Brak was reaching for his hand and clasped it as he pressed the compress against Brak's forehead.

"Thank you for taking care of my brother," Brak said. He sounded a bit stronger.

"The honor's mine." Micah met Brak's weak grin with one of his own. "Are you going to be okay?"

The color was beginning to return to Brak's skin, but Micah could feel how weak he still was.

Brak nodded once. "Just need to rest."

Cynthia sighed with relief, smiled, and patted Brak's other hand. "He's always so tired after he goes out of body like that, but I was hoping it wouldn't happen now that he doesn't have to use his power to kill, anymore."

Kill? Cynthia had mentioned something about that earlier. What did she mean? Brak's mind was too much of a mess right now for him to get anything that made sense, and all he could see in Cynthia's thoughts was Brak lying on a bed like he was hypnotized, and then awaking to get sick like he was now, only not as bad. Micah really wanted that one-on-one with Brak, but it would have to wait until he was well. He wouldn't put Brak through the twenty questions until he had recovered.

Brak rolled his head on the pillow to look at her. "It depends on what I do, Cyn. This was bad. The female was full of poison. If I had merely healed a broken bone, I would simply feel nauseous and need a nap."

"You do too much," she said, caressing his face.

He closed his eyes and sighed. "It's why I was made. It's what I was born to do."

Micah glanced at the face that looked so much like Trace's and frowned. If Brak had been made—
born
—to heal, what had Trace been born to do?

Given the extent of Trace's power, he had a feeling he already knew the answer to that question. And the emotional pain Trace had to bear from his mixed-blood gift was the equivalent to the illness Brak suffered from his.

He squeezed Brak's hand, and then let go. "You stay here and rest, Brak. I'll make housing arrangements for you." AKM had available homes and apartments all over the city, some waiting for tenants, others being used for various purposes. He needed to find Malek and Gina a new place to live now that his current residence was compromised, so while he was at it, he'd line something up for Brak and Cynthia, too. He didn't see that they were mates, but clearly they were important to one another and needed to stay together.

He stood and turned toward Cynthia. "I'll have them bring in another bed for you so you can stay with him. And I'll make sure someone brings you extra blankets and clean clothes…and cleans up the mess." He nodded toward the waste can.

Cynthia smiled at him. "Thank you, but I'm used to this."

He winked at her. He knew she was used to it. He saw inside her mind and knew what she had endured to see Brak through these episodes.

For a human, she was strong.

She would fit in well here.

Malek's hand crept up the blue top the hospital had given her. "You look good in scrubs," he whispered against her lips. She looked good in everything.

Color filled her cheeks. A welcome sight after how pale she had been not even two hours earlier. Her eyes darted to the front seat, to Severin, who had volunteered to play chauffer and take them home. Arion sat beside him in the passenger seat. Clearly, the two were trying to remain invisible, but who was he kidding? He and Gina had been making out in the backseat like horny teenagers since they left AKM, and the atmosphere in Sev's Challenger was murky with arousal, especially since it had become clear his calling wasn't quite over and pulses of hormonal heat were echoing from him every five minutes or so.

Before letting him take Gina home, Micah had made it clear he would have to move. Since Lorena and the Dacians thought Gina was dead—and, as a consequence, Malek—no one saw any harm in letting them spend a day or two in Malek's current residence to ride out the last of his calling, but remaining there long-term was out of the question.

No worries. He had all he needed in his arms. He could leave everything else behind and start over fresh anywhere as long as Gina was with him.

A gentle pulse of heat rippled from his body as Sev pulled up his driveway, and everyone in the car moaned.

The car stopped by the walkway to the porch, and as he pushed open the door and tumbled out with Gina, he caught a glimpse of Sev and Ari. They looked beyond desperate to be alone with one another, and he had a feeling they would get about as much sleep in the coming day as he and Gina would. Not much.

He hoisted Gina into his arms.

"I can walk," she said with a playful shove.

"Ssshh, you." Malek kissed her then turned back toward the car. "Thanks, Sev."

"No problem." Sev nodded and then looked across the seat at Ari. His expression practically melted the windows.

Malek carried Gina to the front door as Sev started back down the drive.

"You sure have a way about you," she said.

"What do you mean?" Now that they were alone, another beat of heat surged from him close on the heels of the last, and she lolled her head back and moaned.

That luscious neck lay bare to his gaze, and it took all his willpower not to pull her up and sink his fangs into her flesh.

"I mean Sev and Ari," she drolled. "They looked like they were about to shed their skin in that car."

He set her down to dig out his keys, and she wrapped her arms around his waist and assaulted his neck. Her sharp fangs scratched his skin and sent quivers through his muscles. Holy hell, he was about to burst. With a murmured curse that gave way to a groan, he looked skyward as his knees trembled and almost gave out.

Have to get in. Have to unlock the door.

He fumbled with the keys as Gina continued molesting his neck. By some stroke of luck, he finally got the door unlocked, backed her inside, kicked the door shut behind him, and didn't even wait to get her downstairs to his bedroom before he began tearing away her clothes.

Hormonal heat pounded out of him like high tide rolling in, and the fire of a thousand candles consumed them both.

"You belong to me," he said as he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder as if he were a caveman taking his clubbed-over-the-head woman to his cave.

She cried out and laughed as he smacked her bare ass and hauled her through the kitchen to the stairs that led to the basement.

Once downstairs, he stopped at the foot of his bed and playfully flung her off his shoulder to the mattress.

"Malek!"

She bounced, and in a heartbeat Malek was on her, over her, lavishing her body with his tongue, his lips, his hands.

Inch by glorious inch, he licked his way up the insides of her thighs, pushing her legs open, until he took a taste her sweetness. Her fingers drove into his hair and gripped his scalp as she murmured something he couldn't understand through a rush of breath.

Her flesh was soft and smooth, silky, musky, delicious. And he feasted and suckled her swollen nub until she shuddered and gasped his name.

Even before her orgasm waned—the first of many he planned on giving her in the next twelve hours—she sat up, gripped the back of his shirt, and tugged it over his head as he unfastened the pants Micah had loaned him and shoved them off.

No words passed between them. They weren't needed. Everything that mattered was revealed in her eyes, her touch, the way she nipped his neck as she pulled him down on top of her. All his love spilled from his pores, through the tips of his fingers as he gripped her hips, from his tongue as he laved her nipple. She was heaven, the stars, his whole damn universe.

And when she guided him inside her, the planets aligned in a celestial cataclysm that resonated with perfection.

"Gina…" His body drove into hers over and over, open and receptive, giving her all he was and taking all he needed.

"I'm yours," she said, breathless.

He lifted up on his arms and looked down on his life, his love, his world. When had making love ever felt so wondrous? When had he ever known such bliss?

As his body tightened, his gaze fell to the slender column of her neck, and like a drunk staring at a glass of scotch, everything else in the room vanished. He couldn't take his eyes off her neck. Blood…thirst…he needed to feed. His fangs ached and distended, and with each hungry thrust into her body, he panted out a grunt borne of another hunger.

Gina's palm wrapped around the back of his neck and pulled. She knew what he needed. "Feed from me,
tesoro.
Take what you need."

He let her pull him down, let her place his face in the curve of her neck as she rolled her head to the side and held him in place.

So good, so fragrant, so fucking hot.

His breath came in tight bursts. He was close, and so was she.

"Malek…please…now."

Instinct took over, and as she crested, he sank his fangs in deep. Blood spilled over his tongue. Her blood, so perfect and warm. She shattered in euphoric pleasure as her body quaked with release. An instant later, as his own orgasm broke through his flesh and her blood mixed with his, he grunted and clamped down even more forcefully on her neck like a lion to his lioness in the midst of mating frenzy.

Gina was his to love, cherish, honor, and protect for all eternity. No other would ever hurt her again. He would make sure of it, because any who threatened her would answer to him, and once he got his strength back, he would be a force of hell to any who threatened her.

Too long he had been alone, but no more. His beautiful assassin had returned. She had come back for him, and he would never let her go again. Ever.