Burning Alive

Page 36

“No. But I may be able to help all the same.”
“How?”
“I’m a bloodhunter.”
Paul pushed himself to his feet, trying to hide his shock. Although everyone knew the Sanguinar had bloodhunters among their ranks—men who tracked down bloodlines by scent alone—no one knew who they were. It was a carefully guarded secret.
“So? Why should I care?”
“Because I drank Helen’s blood.”
That admission pissed Paul off and had him reaching for his sword. He didn’t want anyone touching Helen’s blood. She was too precious.
Paul shoved Logan against the wall and put the edge of his blade against the Sanguinar’s throat. “Never do that again.”
Logan just smiled as if Paul were a child doing something cute. “You should thank me, Theronai. Now that I’ve tasted her blood, if there are any more women out there related to her, I can find them.”
Hope flared bright inside Paul, making him go still as he tried to fully absorb the import of Logan’s words. “You’d help me search for another like Helen? A woman who could be mine?”
“Yes.”
Was this some kind of trick? Paul searched for signs of a trap, but his excitement was distracting. The lure of his own lady was a potent one. “Even if we found another female Theronai, it wouldn’t guarantee she would be able to join with me.”
“No, but if Helen was compatible with you and your power, then it stands to reason that another woman of her bloodline might be as well.”
“No one seems to know where she came from. Do we even know if there are others out there like her?”
Logan’s voice dropped to a dark, seductive tone. “No, but wouldn’t you prefer it be you who finds out first rather than one of the other men?”
All of his brothers would be looking for women of their own. There was no question about that. The only thing keeping Paul from planning to do that very same thing was Helen. He wanted to stay near her. Just in case she needed him.
Paul shoved himself away from Logan and sheathed his sword. He had to think—figure out why the Sanguinar wanted to help him.
“You’d never do something for nothing. What’s in this for you?”
Logan shrugged as if preparing to ask for no more than a trifle. “My people are starving. I am starving. I ask only for your blood—as much as you can safely give whenever I have need.”
“A blood oath? That kind of bond would give you too much power over me. You’d be able to compel me to do things I otherwise wouldn’t.”
“True, but I’m not some kind of monster. I don’t have any intention of using you in nefarious ways. And don’t forget that once your lifemark is bare and your soul withers, you won’t need anyone to force you to do things which you now find . . . distasteful. You’ll do whatever feels good. We’ve both seen it before.”
And it was often ugly. Men who were once noble and selfless turned into something unrecognizable. They were reckless with the lives of others, interested only in their own desires and willing to do whatever it took to get what they wanted. No matter who it hurt.
Paul wanted to believe that he was stronger than those men, but he knew that was a lie. He would become what many of his brothers had if he allowed himself to live that long.
Logan’s eyes flared with a bright, hungry light. “It’s a fair trade, Theronai. I save your life by helping you find your lady, and in return, you save mine.” His eyes moved deliberately to Paul’s lifemark. “From the looks of it, if I fail to help you, our blood oath will be a short-lived one.”
Logan had a point.
“What do you have to lose?” asked Logan.
Not much.
It would be hard to walk away from Helen, but she was bound to Drake, and he hadn’t lied to her when he told her he’d hear her call for him. He knew he would.
But what if she never called?
His hand rubbed over his lifemark. Logan was right. He could feel it—his leaves withering away. He was running out of time more quickly than before. Helen had inadvertently sped his soul’s death by her mere presence.
What choice did Paul have? He was surviving on hope and Logan offered him a rich source. All he had to do was bleed a little. No big deal. Happened all the time to a man who fought the Synestryn.
“Fine,” said Paul. “I’ll accept your bargain if you add in a stipulation that if we find my lady, you promise not to do anything that would endanger her safety. Our blood oath cannot prevent me from doing my duties.”
“Of course,” agreed Logan. His smile was a bright flash of white teeth that revealed sharp twin fangs. “I would never think of harming one of our women.”
“You took Helen’s blood.”
“Does she look ill? Injured?”
“No.”
“That’s because she isn’t. Even if you do subscribe to the notion that I’m only out for blood, you must realize that it does me no good to harm those from whom I feed. I tire of your people’s dislike for our existence. It is no more my fault that I must drink blood than it is yours that you must have an outlet for your power. We are as we were created to be, no matter how much we wish it to be otherwise.”
Paul felt a guilty flush rise up the back of his neck. “I know it’s not your fault that you need to feed. That doesn’t mean I want to be the one feeding you.”
Logan waved an elegant hand as if dismissing it. “Do we have a deal, Theronai? Your blood in exchange for my aid and no action of mine harms your lady?”
“It’s a deal.” Paul braced himself for the weight of his vow, but it settled gently around him, becoming part of him easily. He had no idea whether Logan had felt the same thing, but if he did, it hadn’t surprised him.
“When do we leave?” asked Paul.
Logan gave him a victorious smile that showed his fangs. “As soon as I’ve fed.”
Drake wanted to kill Paul. It was only the fact that Paul was right that stayed his hand.
He could feel Helen’s concerned silence as they wound their way through the halls. He’d left Thomas’s sword with Nicholas in the hopes that he would be able to use the blood on it to find a new trail to Kevin’s sword.
The trail to Helen’s freedom from him.
Drake suffered a spurt of desperation and gripped her hand tighter. He couldn’t stop touching her, not even long enough to get back to his suite. He needed to know she was still by his side. That she hadn’t chosen to leave him for Paul. Yet.
The fucking bastard.
He had no right to put his nose into Drake and Helen’s business. No matter how much Drake had failed her by keeping her in the dark.
“You’ve got to tell me what’s going on, Drake.” Her voice was strong but he could feel the ripple of unease lurking inside her, trickling through their link.
Drake unlocked his door and led her inside. His suite was like most of the others in this wing. The living room was big and the rest of it was small. Down a short hall, there were two bedrooms with private bathrooms. Along the interior wall was an efficient, miniature kitchen barely big enough for two to eat in comfortably, but Drake rarely used it. He preferred taking his meals in the common area with all the others when he was at home.
The living room had two-story windows facing east, and a sliding glass door leading out onto his patio. All the glass was specially treated with a reflective coating so that he could have Sanguinar visit when the sun was up if necessary. During the day, the view of the lake was lovely, but right now he couldn’t see much past the part of the lawn lit with security lights unless he used his night vision. It was completely dark inside his suite, so he flipped on some lights to make Helen more comfortable. She could see in the dark, too, if she wanted, but now didn’t seem like a great time to remind her.
“Would you like something to eat?” he asked her.
“Yes. I’m starved. I’d also like some answers.”
Answers. He had plenty, just none he wanted to give her.
Drake didn’t have much in his fridge, so he decided to call the Gerai on duty in the main kitchen.
“Kitchen,” answered a young woman on the other end of the line. He didn’t recognize her voice.
“I’d like two meals sent up, please.”
“Yes, sir. We have grilled chicken and steak left from dinner. Which would you like?”
“One of each is fine. Thanks.”
“Room number?”
“One-oh-four.”
“It’ll be just a few minutes, sir.”
“Thank you.”
Helen was watching him as he hung up the phone. “You’re avoiding me. That makes me nervous.”
“I’m not avoiding you. I just think some things are better handled on a full stomach.”
Helen stared at him for a long moment and he had to fight the urge to cross the space and pull her into his arms. He could distract her with his hands, his mouth. He could take her back to his bedroom and drive away the thoughts of anything beyond the heat of their joined bodies. He could love her slowly and make her forget all about the questions he saw lurking in her eyes.
Of course, when it was over, the questions would still be there and the longer he waited to answer them, the more betrayed she would feel. He couldn’t stand that thought.
So he stayed on his side of the room and watched her as she wandered around, looking at his collection of books and baubles. She picked up a particularly beautiful dagger that had been given to him by a Russian prince decades before she was born. Her slim fingers wandered delicately over the jeweled hilt and Drake had to clench his teeth to keep himself from begging her to touch him like that.
Cool air pooled around his ankles and he realized he was still holding the refrigerator door open in search of cold drinks.
With a silent curse, he ripped his eyes away from Helen and pulled out two cans of cola. By the time he filled glasses with ice and cola and set them on the table, a knock sounded on his door.
He opened it to a young woman he didn’t know. She had curly black hair that fell in disarray around her sweet, cherubic face. She smiled, which made her round cheeks rounder, and lifted the tray of food. “Good evening, sir.”
“You’re new here. What’s your name?”
“Grace, sir.”
Drake felt Helen’s body near his. The ring on his hand hummed, demanding he touch her, but he held back. If he started touching her, he wouldn’t stop until their food was cold and the chasm of secrets between them grew too large to cross. He had to keep his focus and protect her, even if that meant protecting her from himself.
He offered Grace a smile he was sure didn’t touch his eyes. “I’m Drake Asher and this is my lady, Helen Day.”
Grace’s eyes went wide at the mention of Helen being a lady. “I thought the Gray Lady was the only one here.”
Drake took the tray from her. As soon as his hand moved toward her, she flinched, but covered her reaction quickly.
“I only found Helen yesterday,” he said, watching as she backed out of arm’s reach.
Grace blushed, took a small step back, and looked down at the tiled entryway. “Sorry, sir. I always ask too many questions. Please forgive me.”