Savage Hunger: Savage, Book 1 (29 page)

“I was going to tell you when the time was right.”

Ah, so he was jumping right back on to the topic he’d wanted to avoid. With a grim shake of her head she didn’t even bother to look at him.

“I’m not so sure I believe that, Warrick. Where’s Quinton?”

“He’s going to watch the van.”

Sienna made a soft
harrumph
.

“I needed at least a minute to talk to you alone, Sienna.”

“I’m sorry, but didn’t you just say there was nothing to discuss?” She offered him a saccharine smile, before glancing away. “We don’t have the time right now, and I’m not really in the mood anyway.”

“You are so damn difficult,” he muttered and strode past her to knock on the door before she could reach it.

“I think you’ve got that backwards, buddy. At least I’ve never been anything but open with you.” She glared at him while waiting for the door to open.

“Do I even need to call ‘bullshit’?” He arched a brow in dismay. “Just like you were so damn open about the jump drive?”

Damn. She’d forgotten about that. One little thing. She opened her mouth to spit out another sharp retort, but then glanced at the door with a frown.

“Why isn’t he answering?” she muttered and pounded on the wood frame. Harder this time.

Warrick pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans and hit a couple buttons. She didn’t have to ask to figure out who he was calling. If she’d had her keys, she’d just let herself in.

Because what were the chances her dad had left the door unlocked? Sienna reached for the handle to give it a try and was amazed to find it turn easily in her grip. She pushed the door open and stared into the darkened interior.

Warrick closed his cell phone and grabbed her shoulder before she could step foot inside.

“Hang on, Sienna.” He shook his head. “Something’s off here. I want to wave Quinton over before—”

“Sienna? Is that you, honey?”

They both stilled and glanced back into the open doorway. It was her father’s voice coming from the back of the house. Distracted. Maybe a little tired, but definitely her dad.

The tension fled from Sienna’s muscles and she exhaled shakily. It had been months since she’d seen him, and suddenly nothing mattered more than being in his arms, having him tell her everything was going to be okay.

Tears stung at the back of her eyes and her throat tightened with emotion.

“Yes, it’s me,” she called, her voice breaking as she stepped in the doorway.

Warrick followed her in and shut the door behind her.

“I’m in the sitting room.”

Her feet stumbled. Something felt off. Sitting room? He never referred to the lounge as the sitting room. And why hadn’t he come out to greet them?

She saw the shadow of a man at the end of the hall just as Warrick grabbed her arm and shoved her behind him. The move was so aggressive she slammed into the wall. Stars spun in her head as she struggled to stay upright.

Warrick’s growl filled her ears and she turned just in time to see him stride toward the unfamiliar man.

Where the hell was her father?

“I’ve been waiting for both you little bitches.” The man lifted some kind of gun and leveled it at Warrick.

“Warrick, watch out!”

“Get the hell out of here, Sienna,” he snarled before he leapt forward and his body morphed into wolf.

Whatever the man shot at him pinged against the wall, missing Warrick as he dove at the man. The man dropped the gun and plucked a knife from his belt, just as Warrick landed on him.

No
! Sienna’s feet were frozen. Her mind screamed to run and get Quinton, but she was terrified to turn her back on Warrick as he fought with the man on the floor. Then Warrick let out a sharp whine of pain and released his hold on the man. Blood seeped through his fur from a gaping stab wound at his side and he fell to the ground.

Oh God
! Any thoughts of going for help fled, and Sienna blindly ran toward him. The stranger quickly retrieved the gun and leveled it at Warrick again. She was closer now, and it quickly registered that this wasn’t any ordinary gun. It held a small dart, and she didn’t have to be a genius to guess what was loaded into it.

If that dart hit Warrick, he’d be just as sick and deadly as the ferals. She couldn’t let him take that shot. Her mind moved at lightning speed, making a decision she wasn’t even aware of considering. Her feet flew across the carpeted rug faster than should’ve been possible.

The sound of the gun discharging echoed in the room as her body went airborne. The dart entered her shoulder with enough force to throw her back and send spikes of pain through her body. She hit the ground hard and rolled away from the stranger.

Reaching for the dart to pluck it free, she realized it was too late as the chilly slide of the drug entered her system. Her fingers fell away, numb and useless.

Curled on her side, she watched as squeaky, white sneakers entered her vision.

“You stupid bitch, that wasn’t meant for you,” the man raged from above her. “I don’t have a fucking clue what that’ll do to a human.”

From the corner of her eyes she saw Warrick struggling to his feet, just as the front door splintered open.

The stranger cursed and retreated from the hallway, his footsteps softened by the carpet, until they disappeared completely.

Warrick shifted back to human and rushed over to her, one hand cupping his rib cage that seeped blood.

“You’re hurt,” she whispered, wishing like hell the spinning in her head would stop.

“I’m hurt? Baby, you know how quickly I heal,” he choked out, falling to his knees beside her. “Jesus, Sienna, what were you thinking?”

Quinton appeared beyond Warrick, striding down the hall, his face pinched with fury.

“Wait in the van? I should kick your ass for talking me into that, Donovan. Are you guys okay?”

“He’s bleeding,” she muttered a bit drunkenly. “You should probably clean that wound before it gets infected.”

“My wound is already healed,” Warrick said tersely as he glanced over at Quinton. “She jumped in front of a drug dart that was meant for me.”

Shaking his head, Quinton muttered, “Fuck me, you both sure know how to find trouble. I’m calling for backup and an incident response team for cleanup.”

“Where’s my dad?” she whispered, trying to gaze around the kitchen. But it was hard to see. There were glittery tracers. “I heard him…he’s got to be here somewhere.”

Warrick touched her forehead and sighed. “I don’t think that was him you heard, Sienna. More like a recording.”

Her stomach clenched, then heaved. Maybe it was the drugs, but suddenly she felt like she was about to get sick.

“Warrick—”

“Don’t think about it right now, Sienna. We’ll find him.”

She struggled to sit up, but fell back to the floor. Warrick slid his arm beneath her and pulled her onto his lap, holding her head as his worried gaze slid over her face.

“You’re going to be all right.”

But was her father? If his voice had just been a recording, then it must mean they had him. Whoever
they
were.

Warrick took her hand and she squeezed it with as much energy as she could muster. There was a comfort in his arms. Then again there always was.

She closed her eyes, lulled into a sense of peace as his fingers traced over her cheek. Then they moved down her body to where the dart was still embedded in her shoulder, probing gently, but not removing.

Off in the distance she could hear Quinton rapid-firing instructions into his cell phone.

“Ah, God, Sienna,” Warrick whispered hoarsely. “Stay with me. Open your eyes.”

If only she could, but her eyelids felt as if there were forty-pound weights on each of them.

“If anything happens to you…” He broke off and swore under his breath. “Why’d you do it?”

Because I love you.
She didn’t have the energy to say the words, and wasn’t sure she would’ve said them aloud even if she could. Instead she squeezed his hand tighter, just before she turned her head away from him and threw up her lunch.

The air conditioning kicked on in the room at the Marriott, the constant blast of cool air filling the silence as Warrick strode back to the window.

He thrust aside the lacy cream curtain and stared out over the marina and the array of boats on the water.

He didn’t see the glistening blue water or the heat of the sun that reflected off it. Couldn’t appreciate the sight of the city outside. No, the anxiety that had hit him back at Sienna’s house still continued to fester in his gut.

Turning, he glanced back at the bed where she sat propped up with pillows, a sullen frown creasing her forehead as a P.I.A. doctor checked her vitals.

The poisoned dart had been removed, and a bandage now covered the wound. She didn’t seem to be in much pain, but that was likely from the cocktail of meds the doc had given her.

“Really, is all this necessary? I feel fine.”

Warrick’s lips twitched slightly at Sienna’s obvious exasperation, though fortunately she didn’t make an effort to pull away from the doctor.

“I’m sure you are, Miss Peters,” the older man murmured, placating her, “but if you’ll indulge me—and your boyfriend here—I’ll just make sure myself.”

Warrick could feel the flush steal up his neck and knew it matched the stain in Sienna’s cheeks. Her gaze slid to him and all irritation faded from her eyes.

Instead there was softness and a regret—for what, he couldn’t be sure—but what caught him the most was the flicker of need.

Heat slid through his body, awakening his desire for her. And damn he was a bastard, because why did he always want to have Sienna flat on her back when she was sick or recovering?

Shit, when she’d taken the shot intended for him this morning, his whole world had stopped. He hadn’t known what had been in that gun, had only seen Sienna jump in front of him and then go down hard.

He and Quinton both suspected the dart was full of the same drug the ferals had been given. And the fact that the drug was now in Sienna’s system scared the shit out of him. They knew what the drug did to a shifter, but what about to a human? It was anybody’s guess. Dammit, it could’ve killed her.

Even now, he couldn’t begin to comprehend why she’d place her life at risk so blatantly.

“Well, my dear. You do indeed appear to be just fine.” The doctor pulled the stethoscope from his ears and draped it around his neck again. “Blood pressure’s normal, pulse is fine, temperature is a little warm, but it’s hotter than blazes in here. I’m just going to draw a blood sample and have it analyzed to be safe though.”

Sienna nodded and tore her gaze away from Warrick. It’d been a long day and her fatigue was obvious from the dark circles gathering under her eyes.

She didn’t even flinch when the doctor inserted the beveled needle into her arm to withdraw blood, though after a moment her eyes fluttered closed.

“And we’re all done.” The snapping of latex gloves sounded as the doctor plucked them from his hands and tossed them in the trash. “My advice for now would be to just get some rest and try not to stress yourself…”

Not stress herself out? Warrick’s jaw flexed and he bit back a harsh laugh. Apparently the good doc realized his request might be a little on the asinine side because his ears turned red and he cleared his throat.

“Well, at least try to force her to rest,” he pleaded to Warrick and grabbed his medical bag off the floor. “I’m going to head back to headquarters. You know where to reach me if you need anything.”

“Of course. Thank you, Doc.” Warrick shook the doctor’s hand and then escorted him to the door.

A moment later he closed it again and made sure it was double-locked, before turning to face Sienna.

“How are you?” he asked softly.

“You heard the doc. Just fine.”

Her flat tone had his insides clenching. “I’m not asking about physically, Sienna. Obviously the side effects of the drug aren’t hitting you. I mean emotionally. How are you holding up?”

Sienna’s eyes narrowed and she shook her head. “Seriously, Warrick? Seriously?”

Her harsh sarcasm was a welcome break from her bleak demeanor, until she went on.

“First I’m told that we’re mated, and I apparently have no say in it. Then my father goes missing and I end up with a poisoned dart in my shoulder. And now I’m bedridden and sweating like a pig. I’m doing fucking great.”

Warrick tried not to growl at her verbal attack, as her voice escalated with anger. But it was the fear behind her words that made sympathy claw through him and swell until he literally had to will himself not to cross the floor and drag her into his arms. The need to hold her, to encourage her tears, was so damn overwhelming. But he knew that right now she wouldn’t appreciate it. Probably didn’t want anything to do with him actually.

Which was just too damn bad. They were holed up in the Marriott under a fake name until the P.I.A. gave them instructions on what to do next. There’d been no ransom note for her father, no indication really that he’d even been kidnapped. Maybe he’d disappeared on his own. Though Warrick wasn’t really sold on that idea.