You Both (Vampire Assassin League Book 29) (4 page)

“What the hell?” Athlerod asked.

“Final warning. Remember?”

Athlerod dusted himself off. Looked over at her and glared, as if this was her fault. He turned back to his brother. “You are acting very strange, brother. Almost as if—”

Athlerod looked over at her again. This time his eyes were narrowed. His nostrils flared. And with the coating of dust he looked especially sinister.

“No,” he finally said.

The movies had it wrong. Swords didn’t make any noise when getting pulled from their scabbards. Nothing did. Or she was in a vacuum of space that sound couldn’t penetrate. In extreme slow-motion, she watched Athlerod pull his sword out and back a few steps. He bent slightly at the knees and slashed at the space between the brothers.

“You break a vow, you pay, brother.”

The words sounded like they came through set teeth. The result could have been instantaneous, but it felt like long minutes later, that Ethelstone pulled his blade, too. He stepped back farther into the shadows and then bent at the knees, matching his brother in stance as well as everything else. His sword filled the area he’d been in. Light glinted off sharp edges as he twisted it. And –

There wasn’t enough room in this jet for a sword fight. She had to do something!

But what?

Her mind was shoving options at her.
Wake up! Scream. Struggle. At least unfasten the belts, Steph. Get to the floor. Hide
.

This wasn’t a dream anymore. It was a nightmare. And nothing on her body worked right.

“We don’t have to do this, Athlerod!”

Athlerod’s sword slashed into the space in answer. It didn’t have a delay. Their words and motions appeared to be catching up with real time. Thank goodness. Sound was coming back, too. Steel smacked against steel, sending a ringing sound through the cabin. It came with increasing frequency as they hammered at each other. Over and over again. Steph’s breath caught on the image of power, might, and muscle. She’d never seen anything to compare with this. And with the force of blows these two were exhibiting, there should be some damage to the blades. Wasn’t that what the movies always showed?

Damn Hollywood
. Must have gotten that wrong, too.

“You cannot kill me, brother!”

Ethelstone leapt a chair and shoved his brother into a flimsy partition. Athlerod rolled back to his feet. The section of wall wavered warningly. The upper portion came loose on one side, and the bottom half fell. Athlerod strode onto it, rocking atop it as if he was surfing.

“Who said...anything...about you?”

Stephanie watched with absolute terror as Athlerod matched deed to word. He lunged toward her, his sword arm raised. The blade intent on one thing: Her.

And she couldn’t do a damn thing about any of it.

She’d always heard your life flashed before your eyes when facing death. That was wrong, too. Her heart leapt into her throat, her breath froze, her eyes wouldn’t shut despite how she ordered it, and then Ethelstone’s blade appeared in front of her, slashing in to deflect Athlerod’s blow.

Her throat worked. She screamed.

Ethelstone slammed his left fist into his brother’s chest, sending Athlerod careening backwards. The sound of ripping fabric combined with a wrenching metal sound as he landed. Stephanie couldn’t see what damage his landing had done. Ethelstone had turned to her, slipped the tip of his blade beneath her straps, and sliced her free. And then he met her shocked gaze with one that sent all kinds of messages.

Everything halted. Sound. Movement. Her heart even stopped.

Athlerod’s blade flicked through the spot behind him. Steph saw it an instant before Ethelstone, and he must have read her expression. Nothing else made sense. But their movements were almost too quick to follow. Ethelstone spun, met the oncoming blade, as well as the next several blows. While Stephanie sat. Locked in place. Immobile. Transfixed.

“Hide!”

Ethelstone shot the word over his shoulder at her. It shouldn’t have been necessary. That was the obvious action she should be taking. She’d even thought of it first. She slid off the seat. Her limbs were shaky, but they worked enough to crawl behind the seat she’d been in. Squeeze between it and the cabin wall. Try to disappear.

“I cannot believe this!”

The words were hissed. Angered. She didn’t know who said them. They were followed by a flurry of blows, and then the unmistakable sound of an intercom coming to life came through the cabin.

“Greetings! This is your fantastic pilot speaking. The beautiful lights of Reykjavik are just coming into view, and—what is that noise? Athlerod? Ethelstone? Please tell me you are not sword fighting back there.”

They didn’t answer, but the sound of steel ringing against steel was loud. As was the grunt, followed by a crashing noise as something else got uprooted. Stephanie didn’t even peek to see what it was.

Or who.

“Somebody better answer me, and I mean right now. Boys?”

Nobody responded. Again.

“Oh shit. This is one of Takashi’s new stealth jets. I’m warning you guys—”

“Just get us on the ground already!”

Stephanie stuck her head up and yelled it. Neither combatant noticed her. They were locked in some sort of strength contest, their blades smashed together at the hilts while they shoved. A lot of bicep muscle was bulging, showing just how hard they were shoving.

“You got it, miss.”

Oh. Shit.

She didn’t even have time to say it. The intercom went dead and the plane instantly went into a steep, stomach-lurching descent. The jet all around them rumbled and groaned with stress. Just about everything that was loose in the cabin rushed forward, Stephanie included, although she managed a staggered crawl that would shame many a toddler before somersaulting to an awkward finish. Her back smacked into the side of what was probably a restroom. The incline hadn’t done a thing to stop the fighting. She could still hear all kinds of thuds that could be hits on flesh, clanging that was probably swordplay, and grunts that could mean anything. Stephanie got on her knees, peeked over the top of a chair...and went cold. Everywhere.

“Oh. No way, Steph,” she said aloud.

Both guys were the only things in a vertical position. Their bodies looked sickeningly incongruous against everything around them. The ceiling. The walls. The remaining seats. And why? Because they weren’t on the floor.

They were hovering just above it.

Stephanie rubbed her eyes. The view didn’t change. This nightmare just kept getting worse. Somebody needed to end this nonsense. Right now. She needed a weapon. The partition the guys had knocked apart had shielded a galley area. The lights were flickering in semi-defeat, illuminating all kinds of kitchen paraphernalia. Everything was secured. Clamped into place. They even had a fire extinguisher at her eye level. That was interesting. And thought-provoking.

Stephanie lurched to her feet and stumbled across the aisle, going for speed rather than stealth. Neither twin seemed to notice. But she didn’t check, either. She had to go by the sounds of continual swordplay. She pulled the extinguisher free. Yanked the tag off the nozzle. The plane was leveling off slightly.
Good
. That might mean they were getting close to land. And it sure helped her mission. She stepped forward into the corridor, stood with her feet wide apart. For balance. Stability. Her shoulder knocked against the partition wall more times than not. That would probably leave bruises if this wasn’t a nightmare. She’d worry about it when she woke up from this mess. She sucked in a deep breath and gave her loudest whistle.

Both men stopped. Turned toward her. Stephanie lifted the extinguisher and started spraying.

Fog filled the cabin, obscuring most of it. She let off the nozzle, and everything almost instantly cleared, leaving both men regarding her with identical quizzical expressions and not one speck of residue.

What the hell?
Where was the foam? The powder? The liquid? And why were the movies wrong about fire extinguishers, too?

One of them tucked his sword blade down as he folded his arms. She knew it was Athlerod. The other one didn’t move. He didn’t have to. She was unbelievably aware of him. Attuned. As if electrically stimulated by some weird force she didn’t dare look into closely or try to define. Stephanie held the extinguisher in front of her like it was some sort of shield.

“What. Was. That.”

Athlerod spoke. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of failure. That made it feel worse somehow. Stephanie lifted her chin.

“It worked, didn’t it?” she replied.

“For what?”

“Stopping your fight.”

“Fight? This?”

“You were trying to kill him!”

“No. I was attempting to kill you. He was stopping me.”

“Back off.” Stephanie lifted the extinguisher again. Her hands were shaking. It spread until her entire body had the problem. Athlerod took a step toward her. He didn’t lift his blade. He didn’t have to. The intent was clear. His entire form was focused. She was going to die. And it wasn’t going to be pretty.

They landed. The plane didn’t touch down nicely. It bumped against the ground, soared upward, and then smacked down again. Stephanie lost contact with the floor. Light glinted off Athlerod’s sword as it came for her, the blade looking beyond lethal. Sharp. But it didn’t reach her. Ethelstone materialized before her. Shoved her behind him. And took the full hit of the blade into his shoulder and chest.

Somebody started screaming. And wouldn’t quit. The cacophony added to the sound of Athlerod’s horrified cry. Ethelstone’s grunt of pain. And the sound of the loudspeaker coming to life again. The pilot’s voice started out loud. But the sound faded. Everything did.

“All right! We’re down. Welcome to Reykjavik!”

And Stephanie didn’t hear anything more.

He’d forgotten how pain felt.

Ethelstone’s knees wobbled. His thighs shook. His gut churned threateningly. He backed clumsily into the wall behind him, sliding Stephanie to his good side, while his sword hilt filled that hand. He ignored his other arm. It didn’t respond. It dangled as though unattached. The tunic had been sliced open as well. It was glued to him with blood. And everything hurt like he’d taken a dive into the lowest realm,
Nifleheim
. All kinds of hellfire branded his flesh and the area thumped repeatedly, as if Thor were repeatedly hitting it with his hammer,
Mjolnir.

All told, it was far better to ignore it.

Athlerod dropped his sword and yanked open an overhead compartment. All kinds of things dumped onto the floor, forming a mountain of items. He kept two blankets. Ethelstone lifted the sword tip as his brother slammed the compartment shut and looked him over.

“Good thing we haven’t fed lately.”

“What?” Ethelstone didn’t need to feign ignorance.

“That would bleed like a stuck hog. Here. Hold this. Compress.”

“You are...helping me?”

Athlerod dropped the blankets onto Ethelstone’s shoulder, pressed them until blood started seeping through, and then stepped back. His brother was flushed, and wouldn’t look him in the eye. “You should have blocked the blow. Or moved quicker.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have tried to kill her.”

His brother flashed a glance to the woman in his arm before he answered. “We swore a vow.”

“The blood feud is satisfied, then?”

“I think I like her. She’s a feisty one. Well...she was before the screaming and fainting part, anyway.”

“Athlerod—”

“I know. Shut up.” His brother flashed him a grin and then sobered. “She is very pretty. You are very lucky. And I am very envious. You have no idea.”

Ethelstone swallowed. Nodded. His brother retrieved his sword and secured it back in his scabbard. Ethelstone watched. He didn’t lower his blade. Or his guard.

“I’ll be in the ice cave,” Athlerod told him.

“I will join you.”

His brother yanked the door off its hinges, flooding the cabin with more light than seemed necessary, and a lot more ice-filled ache than anyone needed to feel. Ethelstone didn’t remember that dimension about the elements, either.

“Don’t you mean, you both will join me?”

Athlerod didn’t wait for an answer. He jumped out. And disappeared. Ethelstone let the sword drop to his feet in order to tighten his arm on his mate. He moved her around to his front.

Touching her was incredible.

He’d fought it because somehow he’d known what might happen. And with what power. All kinds of things in his body were altering. Renewed sensation was racing everywhere. It laced through his abdomen. Caught at his hips. Niggled at his buttocks...

Ethelstone caught a breath as feeling slid around and hit his groin. Surprise mixing with all kinds of pleasurable tingles. It even mitigated the pain into a dull throb. His mate stirred. Her eyelids flickered, opened slightly, and then widened fully as she looked up at him. And by
Odin
! He couldn’t believe his luck. She had stunning eyes. The color of hammered silver. They were dark about the edges, light gray toward the center. They caught. Entrapped. He was instantly smitten. Enraptured. His newly awakened heart sent heavy beats through him so he could get the full measure of this.

Ethelstone’s knees trembled with a final warning. Then, they folded. He slid to the floor, taking her with him. Landed with a jolt. A groan tore from him, despite his compressed lips. This was not good. She would think him the weakest of men. The most feeble. Defenseless. Pathetic. He knew she watched him. He could feel her gaze. Then he got to feel the heat of a blush as it blossomed up from his chest. But then Vaughn’s voice boomed through the cabin, redirecting her attention.

“Holy shit! Talk about your déjà vu. I’m not going to get to pilot another of these babies if I continually trash them. Didn’t I tell you guys not to fight? You two are complete jackasses.”

Ethelstone craned his neck to lean out past his mate’s head. They both watched as the pilot picked his way through the damage field, holding a large phone out as he walked.

“And just who used the extinguisher? Did we have a fire, too? Holy crap again. Too bad we don’t have smart cell phones. I’d send video.”

“Survivors, Vaughn. That’s what we want to know.”

The pilot had his phone on speaker. The voice on the other end was young-sounding. Male. Easily tagged. Nigel Beethan. Ethelstone swallowed a groan again, this time for an entirely different reason. Vaughn answered.

“Looks...like two. A twin and the woman.”

“Which twin?”

“I don’t know. Ethelstone, maybe?”

He nodded.

“Got confirmation. It’s Ethelstone.”

“Where is Athlerod?”

“Good question. Ethel? Where’s your brother?”

By
Loki
!
Everything was against him. Vaughn even used the most emasculating name on the planet to address him. Ethelstone felt his face fall. Then his shoulders. He cleared his throat before he answered in case it wavered.

“He went to the ice cave. We will join him there. Once I have recuperated.”

“Recuperated?”

His mate turned back to him to whisper. Her breath touched his skin. All sorts of things happened and with alarming viciousness. His canines started tingling. His belly warmed. His loins got a full assault. His manhood responded. Rapidly. He grew hard. Long. Full. He tightened his thighs in an attempt to lift her from direct contact. He wasn’t wearing enough for this! And all she wore was a pair of skinny jeans. This was incredible. Extremely pleasurable. And completely ill-timed. Any pain associated with his wound muted until he could barely feel it.

“Bad idea, my man.”
Nigel answered from somewhere above them.

“What?” Ethelstone tore his gaze away from hers. Experienced an instant chill but it was overwritten by another flush as he felt her watching him. Considering. Probably guessing.

“You guys didn’t put any heat in your ice cave.”

“Heat?” His brain wasn’t functioning. He was amazed his mouth managed to work.

“You know, like a fireplace.”

“Oh. Of course not. Heat melts ice.”

“Right. And that there is your trouble.”

“Trouble?” Ethelstone parroted the word since Nigel waited. He couldn’t think. He could only feel. Regenerate. Experience all kinds of nerve endings awakening. And somehow attempt to hide it.

“Lack of heat tends to do bad things to humans. Especially at your latitude. You know...like, it tends to kill them.”

He really couldn’t concentrate here. And his dick had a mind of its own. It wasn’t obeying anything he tried. He couldn’t remember anything this vivid. Every passing moment sent flashes of bliss through him. It was unbelievably enjoyable. And growing stronger every moment. By the god of sensual pleasure,
Freyr
! This mating thing was difficult to control. Anything he said was going to put a spotlight on it. But then his mate stepped into the breach, her voice business-like and clipped.

“Okay. Who are you and what the hell is going on?” Stephanie asked.

“You must be Miss Bowker. Hi there! Welcome to the league! I hope you’ll accept my abject apologies for the, um...flight.”

Stephanie swiveled, her buttocks slid along the muscle above his knees. Ethelstone’s fangs responded worse. Lengthening. Sharpening. Athlerod had been completely wrong in his evaluation. Stephanie definitely had curves. Full. Ripe. Her hips right now felt like a swift trip to
Valhalla
. He sucked in a breath so quickly it iced his teeth. His fangs got a full dose, and that stung. He’d forgotten that sensation, too.

She didn’t look totally immune, either. She sent a sidelong glance at him before looking quickly away. Her cheeks darkened slightly. Or his eyes were deceiving him. Her voice didn’t show any effects.

“You have got to be joking,” she replied.

“That bad, huh?”

“Do you have any idea what I just went thorough?” Her voice rose.

“Actually...yes. I have a very good idea. Look. I’ll sweeten my apology. I booked the Inferno Suite for you. Limo should arrive anytime. Vaughn? Don’t move. Daylight-thirty is imminent. We’re sending a replacement jet for you. And Ethelstone? Your brother has another assignment. You are not to contact him. Everybody got that?”

“Thanks, man,” Vaughn answered.

“I didn’t hear Ethelstone’s answer. Come on, buddy. You heard me, right? No going near your twin. Understand?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

He’d been right to hold off responding. The words warbled. Stephanie turned again to look him over. He didn’t dare meet her glance. He sucked in his abs and held them tight as his cock went to pleasure-pain status and just hovered there.

“Good. And good-bye.”

Vaughn snapped the phone shut and flung it toward the opposite wall where it smacked into something metallic, joining the destruction. And then he put his hands on his hips and looked over and down at them.

“Well. There you have it. Questions?”

“Yes. Tons.”

Stephanie moved again, facing Vaughn as she answered. Sweet curves slid along Ethelstone’s thighs. Clamping down on this arousal was growing torturous. But incredibly sweet.

No
.

Torturous.

“Fire away, sweetheart. What you got?”

“I’m not your sweetheart. And I’m just going to repeat myself. Who are you? And what the hell is going on?”

“I’m Vaughn. VAL Pilot. And...I think it’s a good idea to defer the rest of your question to um. Yeah. Him. Ethelstone? You want to help me out here?”

“Oh. Nice try, buddy.” Stephanie forestalled any answer.

“What?”

“What is wrong with everyone? The man took a horrific blow! Why is everybody so damned obtuse? I hope you have another phone because you need to order an ambulance. One with a stout gurney. And some very strong paramedics. This might be Iceland, but they’ve got to have hospitals up here!”

The words came faster toward the end and her voice rose again. Those didn’t sound like good omens.

“Hospitals?”

“Why aren’t you moving? This guy needs a blood transfusion. Emergency trauma care! Surgery. Followed up by weeks of rehabilitation. And that’s if they can reattach his arm.”

“Stephanie.”

Ethelstone croaked her name. His voice was lower than normal. A lot lower. It rumbled through what was left of the cabin, making several things rattle before quieting again.

“What?”

The word was acerbic. Sharp. She rotated again to face him. She looked about as angered as she’d sounded. He shoved the mass of blankets aside. Gripped a section of tunic where Athlerod had slashed it. Lifted it away from his skin.

“Stop moving about like that. Are you nuts? You’re wounded.”

He yanked on the leather with his good arm, ripped the tunic open further, and used a swatch of the blanket to rub at the blood coating him, making slashing strokes that didn’t diminish much of anything. His flesh had knitted, but was still red and puckered. She lifted stunned silver eyes to him.

“What...happened to your injury?”

Ethelstone swallowed in order to answer intelligibly. “I am a vampire.”

“Oh, come on. You are not.”

She sounded so certain! Her lips parted. And then she pulled backward slightly, tipped her head to one side, narrowed her eyes, and her eyebrows lowered.

“I thought you knew.”

“No. I don’t believe it. There is no such thing.”

He gestured over at the pilot with his previously immobile arm. “Vaughn is a vampire, too.”

“Oh, come on. He is not.”

She said it almost exactly like before, only this time the tilt of her head went the other direction.

“So is my brother.”

“No.”

“And so is the gentleman who was on the phone.”

She shook her head. “Oh. That one is a complete and utter no.”

“That was Nigel. He is a vampire, too.”

“He sounded about sixteen.”

Ethelstone nodded. “He looks it, too.”

She regarded him for several long moments. He couldn’t take that amount of attention. Not now. Not here. And that’s when his body decided to completely betray him. His hips started pumping toward her. Without one bit of conscious volition. He had to stop it. Ethelstone yanked every muscle into submission. Harder. More. It felt like the cabin around him accompanied his tremor. It took every ounce of strength at his command.

And she didn’t even seem to notice.

“No,” she finally replied.

He needed saving.
By Odin! Thor! Freyr!
He’d even accept the assist from
Loki.
Ethelstone silently sent anguished pleas. Begged for help. Right
now
!