Finding the Lost

Page 8

How could he have been so wrong? His instincts were usually better than that.
Paul couldn’t look her in the eye. He couldn’t bear to see the greed he knew would be lurking there. “Deal,” he said, but he couldn’t bring himself to shake her hand.
“I’m going to grab a quick shower,” she said. “If the money is in there when I get out, we can leave.”
Andra nearly wept with relief when Paul agreed to her terms. He was already on his cell phone making the transfer of funds into her account when she went to shower. She couldn’t believe how easy it had been.
Finally, Andra could be sure that Nika was always going to have a place to live. Between the half million Paul was giving her, and Andra’s large life insurance policy, if anything happened to Andra, Nika would always be cared for. She’d be safe.
Andra made quick work of washing off the sweat of pain and fear from last night, and threw on the first mostly clean pair of jeans she could find. Her laundry was becoming a problem—one she’d have to deal with when she got back, but not now. Now she had to hit the road with a man she barely knew. A man who made her go mushy with just a single touch.
Andra was going to have to be really careful that she didn’t let him touch her anymore.
She went into the living room, presentable but by no means glamorous. Her hair was still wet and she hadn’t bothered to take time for makeup. She was just too damn tired to care what she looked like.
“It’s done,” said Paul, his tone bleak. The warmth in his eyes had disappeared, making him look less human. More deadly. She’d seen him in a fight and knew that the man was a formidable opponent, but she’d never worried that she’d be on the receiving end of his sword.
Until now.
The money had changed the way he looked at her, and no matter how much she told herself it didn’t matter, she knew it was a lie. She wanted him to like her. Respect her. She had no idea why it mattered. It never had before. She’d pissed off more than just a few people in her determination to find a missing child, but with Paul it was different. That slight disdain lifting his lip when he looked at her hurt.
Andra couldn’t make herself not care about what he thought, so she refused to think about it. They had a deal. Nika would be safe. Time to move on. “Where are we going?”
“Missouri.”
Andra nearly groaned. She was too tired to drive that far. She knew she was. She’d never make it there alive. Then again, if she didn’t survive, Nika would get all that money from her life insurance.
She decided to put this situation under the win-win heading.
Something in her thoughts must have come through on her face, because Paul said, “I’m driving. I wouldn’t want you to crash your truck before you finished giving me my money’s worth.”
Andra nodded. “Fine.”
“Pack for a couple days, but be quick.”
Andra picked up one of two overnight bags she kept packed and ready to go at all times in case she got a call from desperate parents. “I’m ready.”
She thought she saw a glimmer of respect cross his hard features, but she couldn’t be sure.
There was a loud pounding on her front door, as if someone were trying to kick it in.
Paul slid a sword out from nowhere—which was the coolest trick ever—and brought a finger to his lips for silence.
“It’s probably my newspaper boy wanting payment. Would you back the hell off?” She stepped forward to go peek through the hole, but Paul held her back with a thick, muscular arm.
He’d just grazed the skin of her arm, but it was enough to make Andra clamp her lips shut over a groan of pleasure. A tingling warmth spread out from the point of contact and invaded her limbs, making them feel heavy and languid. She wanted to rub herself up against him like a cat, and she wished he hadn’t put his shirt back on while she was in the shower. It would have felt so good to splay her fingers across his back and get to know all of the rigid muscles lying beneath his flesh.
Her skin heated until she was sure she was bright red. An aching, needy emptiness gnawed at her, and she pressed her thighs together in an effort to ease the ache. It didn’t work. She needed Paul to lay her down and fill her up—to slide inside her over and over until the world fell away and nothing but the two of them existed. No worries. No fears. No monsters. Only Paul and the touch of his skin on hers.
He stepped away from her, leaving her reeling, nearly swaying with the potent force of her need. She gripped the wall for support, but it did little good. She ended up sitting on her ass, shaking like she’d just spent the last week throwing up.
Through the door came, “It’s Madoc. Open the fuck up.”
Dimly, she was aware of Paul letting the surly giant inside her home. He was carrying something big and heavy and wrapped in a sheet. Booted feet stuck out of one end.
Holy shit. He’d brought a corpse into her apartment.
“He’s bad,” said Madoc.
“How bad?” asked Paul. Concern roughened the edges of his words.
“He started seizing a couple minutes ago. Thought the sun might make it worse, so I brought him in.”
“You didn’t let any light touch him, did you?” asked Paul. “We don’t need that kind of trouble right now.”
Madoc laid his burden down on her couch and started closing the blinds over Andra’s windows. “Do I look like a fucking idiot? I was careful—had him wrapped up nice and tight. We don’t need any more surprises.”
Andra pushed herself up. “What is going on? Is that Logan?”
Paul didn’t even spare her a glance. He was too busy unwrapping the cocoon of sheets from around Logan’s body. When he finished, he eased Logan back onto her couch. He’d somehow lost more weight and was now a skeleton draped in skin. That skin was pale—almost blue—and he was completely still.
“Is he dead?” asked Andra.
“Nearly.” Paul shot Madoc an accusing glare. “Why the hell didn’t you feed him?”
“I’ve gone centuries without letting one of those leeches touch me. I’m not about to start now.”
She thought she heard Paul mutter something like, “Selfish bastard,” under his breath. “Whether or not you like him, we still need him.”
“Speak for yourself,” said Madoc. “I don’t need shit.”
Logan’s body started to shake as if he were having a seizure.
Paul pressed his upper body over Logan’s to hold him down. He held out his arm to Andra and nodded his head toward his sword lying on the floor by the couch. “Cut my wrist; then hold his mouth open,” he told her.
Vampire. There it was again—that word tugging at the frightened corners of her mind. She’d seen enough things to know that monsters were real, but she didn’t like knowing that this particular one existed. It was too eerie.
Or maybe it was the fact that one was in her house that bothered her.
“Come on, Andra. Hurry. He’s dying.”
And she’d promised to give him her blood. Paul had already given him too much. Logan said that earlier. She couldn’t risk letting him hurt himself over something she had promised to do. “How much blood does he need?”
“I don’t know, but it won’t be enough to kill me.”
Good. Then it wouldn’t kill her, either. Andra took his sword just as Logan’s body arched up off the couch in a particularly vicious seizure. Before Paul could stop her, she used his sword to cut open her wrist, pried Logan’s lips open, and bled into his mouth.
Paul realized what she’d done and he shouted, “Andra, no!”
The seizure stopped instantly. Logan’s eerie silvery eyes opened wide and he grabbed her wrist with both hands, holding her arm against his sucking mouth in an unbreakable grip.
She figured it would hurt, but it didn’t. She hadn’t even felt the sword cut her arm, it was so sharp. All she could feel now was an almost gentle tugging motion against her skin, and a kind of weightlessness—as if she were being filled with helium. It was strange, but not unpleasant.
In the distance, she could hear Paul shouting and see Madoc physically holding him away from Logan. But none of that mattered.
She felt an outside presence touch her mind like a warm caress. Logan. He wanted to know more about her. Who she was. Where she’d come from.
Andra let him in. Having him in her head felt good, and she was too weak to fight something as strong as he was anyway. Too tired.
He wanted her to sleep. Rest. She wanted that, too.
For a moment, she worried that she’d forgotten to do something. Turn off the oven? Brush her teeth? She couldn’t remember what it was, and soon, it didn’t seem to matter anymore. Whatever it was, it was unimportant.
Andra let go and drifted away, her weightless body floating into sleep.
Andra went limp, and a sickening flood of panic rose up Paul’s throat. He thrashed against Madoc’s hold, trying to get to her. “What the fuck did you do to her, bloodsucker?”
Logan licked her wrist, leaving behind no trace of her wound. He was no longer bone-thin and pale. His body had filled out and a healthy glow suffused his skin. In a calm tone, he explained, “Poor child hasn’t slept in three days. She was pushing herself too hard, so I put her to sleep.”
Paul managed to break Madoc’s hold and shoved Logan away from her. Her body slumped on the floor beside the couch, boneless and limp. He checked for a pulse and found hers strong and steady.
Relief dragged a breath from his body, and he bowed his head over hers in thanks. The scent of her skin calmed him, and he couldn’t stop himself from smoothing her hair back from her face. She was going to be okay.
Paul gathered her long body in his arms and carried her into her bedroom. The place was a mess, with clothes strewn everywhere. The covers were rumpled, showing signs of where she’d last slept.
Three days ago.
Paul should have been more aware of her fatigue. He should have insisted she rest. It wasn’t like him to be blind to the weakness in the people around him. That could get a lot of people killed in the war against the Synestryn.
“She hid it well,” said Logan from the doorway, as if reading his thoughts. Then again, their blood oath made it possible for him to do a lot of things Paul didn’t enjoy.
Paul still wanted to hit the Sanguinar, but he didn’t want to take his eyes off Andra, no matter how good it would have felt to lay Logan out.
“I should have known, anyway. If she’d been my lady, I would have.” Disappointment left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He put Andra on the bed, took her shoes off, and pulled the sheets up over her slim body. She was helpless like this, and it made his protective instincts roar to life. Nothing was going to get near her until she’d had time to recover. Sibyl would just have to wait.
“Not necessarily,” said Logan. “It’s been a long time since the Theronai found partnerships. We know so little about these women. Things may be different now. The signs may be different.”
Paul stalked to the door where Logan lounged, and the Sanguinar backed up. Smart man.