Charity Received (11 page)

“Where have you been?” she asked nonchalantly.

“Hope dropped me off at the gate. I got some of Charity’s things. She’ll need clothing.”

Faith nodded. Kash was already attending to Charity’s needs. She saw this as confirmation of her beliefs. Looking away for a moment, she nibbled her lip as she tried to come up with a way to broach the subject with him.

“Faith, did you want something? I would like to drop this stuff off, then head out.”

Faith continued to chew on her bottom lip as she hesitated, understanding his need to resume the search for Charity, and she didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. If they were mates, he would feel compelled to do so until they were reunited.

“I was speaking with my bartender last night. Charity is very dear to Prue, and she was concerned.” Faith paused, swallowing uncomfortably before continuing.

“Anyway, Prue seems to believe the only reason Charity would have bitten you is that she believes you are her mate.”

Kash’s gaze never shifted. There was no surprise, no confusion. Faith knew she had been right.

“Is there a point to this?” he asked with a measure of annoyance.

Faith studied him uncertainly for a moment. Kash was tense, bordering on angry, and it wasn’t his normal personality. Arak was right to be concerned.

“Charity was the one who had helped us determine it was my father’s vampires who’d attacked you. At the time I hadn’t realized it, but she’d believed her mate had died. And for the past six months, she’s been mourning him. You.” Faith paused, her eyes growing misty as she considered her own reaction had she been in the same position. She wondered how Charity had withstood it. “I wish to God I had understood. I watched her struggle day after day.”

“Did you come here to make me feel worse?” he asked hoarsely, his voice filled with sadness.

“No,” she insisted adamantly. “It is my guilt, not yours. I just wanted you to understand her fear…her sorrow.” As Faith watched him, she decided telling him that Charity was in danger of going feral was a bad idea. She didn’t think Kash could handle that part. He appeared to have reached his maximum capacity, and any more stress would topple him. “And know that it is the separation that is grating on you. Nature’s little way of ensuring the bond fully develops.”

Kash snorted as he hefted the duffel bag higher on his shoulder and started toward his forge with Faith following. “Lucky me,” he mumbled. Glancing sideways at Bale’s mate, he paused to wonder why her presence didn’t affect him the same way Penny’s and Hope’s did. As long as he kept enough distance that she would not accidentally touch him, he seemed okay in her company.

“What?” she asked.

Obviously his confusion showed on his face. “It’s odd how at ease I feel with you,” he said with a slight lift of his shoulders.

Faith smiled. “I’m not a threat.” At Kash’s sharp look, she continued quickly. “To Charity. I have a mate.”

“No one should be a threat to Charity. She’s my mate.” The words came out in a low growl, but Faith only continued to smile at him. Kash shook his head. He apparently wasn’t the only one losing his mind. “Will she always feel threatened by other females?” Kash turned to her as they reached the door to his shop.

“Once the bond has fully developed, I wouldn’t think so.” Faith gave a little shrug and smiled apologetically. “But I’m no expert. Vampires and shifters…oil and water, you know.”

“And the only one who is…is Charity,” Kash bit out, his frustration rising. “Look, I appreciate the talk, Faith, but I need to find her.”

“I know you do, Kash.”

There was something in the look on her face…something hidden behind her words that had the hair on the back of his neck rising. But before he could demand an explanation, she was wishing him good luck, then turning from him. If he hadn’t been afraid to touch her, he would have pulled her back. It was a good thing, though, since Bale chose that moment to appear. His brother could be damn testy when it came to his mate. That thought made Kash smile; he wasn’t any better.

* * *

Jet sat there, smirking belligerently, and Remy’d had just about enough of the other male’s attitude. He took one deep breath, forcing down his barely suppressed anger, and clung to his rigid control. Jet had been right about one thing: some of the males in the room had managed to avoid falling into the pit by the skin of their teeth.

“Next time you insult Bale’s mate, he won’t be so forgiving. It’s time you stopped taking Lilith’s betrayal out on every female you encounter, Jetrel.”

Remy leaned back in his chair as Jet lunged to his feet. The stupid black western hat he wore fell to the floor, and his short locks were plastered to his head in a ring.

He came to a sudden stop, his hands clenched tightly at his side, and Remy waited to see what he would do, prepared to use his power of mind compulsion on the other male if necessary.

“Do not ever mention that bitch’s name again.” Jet’s hazel eyes held the promise that he was willing to back up his words with action if pushed. And Remy really wanted to poke at the wound Jet guarded so diligently. So many of his brothers had self-destructed when their women had been lost. And while males were rumored to be the stronger of the sexes, if it hadn’t been so painful to watch, an amusing side note to the tragedy would have been the fact that many of their sisters had somehow managed to survive.

“Do you not think it time to lay it to rest?” Remy asked, observing the play of emotions flitting across Jet’s face. While it seemed his brother felt nothing, Remy knew that, in truth, Jet felt too much. It was still eating at him.

“Can
you
, Remy?” Jet rasped bitterly. “Can you forgive the female who caused Dara’s death? Saraknyal’s? Thea’s?”

At the mention of his own mate, Dara, sadness and not anger swept over Remy. He’d released the rage centuries ago and was left with such a hole in his soul, the loneliness sometimes threatened to consume him. He met Jet’s gaze, and the guilt he saw there troubled him. Granted, the last time he’d seen Jet had been just over fifty years ago, when Raym and Caym had first come to them after their leader had been killed. Usiel, much to the shock of the rest of the Grigori, had apparently grown lazy, relaxed in his duties, and the twins had needed much training before they’d met Remy’s standards. Jet had been the one who had seen to Caym’s guidance.

But he didn’t remember Jet being so troubled. Angry. Or was he only now seeing the truth because before he had been just as dead inside, before the dreams had begun—

the dreams in which Dara revisited him. She said it would be soon.

“No,” Remy finally admitted quietly. “Why do you think I’m still here? Eventually I will have my revenge. But I do not paint every other female with Lilith’s brush.”

“You have no right to judge, Remy. It was not you who brought that viper into your home. It was not your mate who caused such destruction.”

“It was not your mate either.”

Jet shook his head, refusing to accept Remy’s softly spoken words. “Watching as our brothers slowly lost what grace they still possessed. Having to kill them before they became engulfed in the flames of damnation. That is my shame. I could not bear to witness the same thing happening to Bale.”

“Sam should never have charged you with that task. As for Bale, should we just turn out Faith from our protection? Hope he hasn’t bonded too deeply to her? Or should we protect her with all the powers still available to us?” Remy sighed as Jet averted his gaze. “I had a visit the night Faith was rescued. Gabriel was here.”

Eyes laced with shock and fear met his, and Remy completely understood the other male’s terror. He’d felt a sliver of it himself that night. After centuries of being hunted by those under Michael’s command—by those they’d once considered brethren—many of the Grigori had become disillusioned. Trust was not easily given.

And even though the angels had let them be for a millennium, the Grigori still feared the day those above would resume the hunt.

Remy smiled weakly. “I came away from the encounter unscathed. But I fear Faith is just the beginning. The werewolf points toward that.” Jet began to protest, but Remy cut him off sharply. “You were not the only one Sam charged with the task of tracking those with mate-sickness. If Sam really thought I wouldn’t know why he agreed to your transfer, why you were sent so quickly, then he is a fool. But cause either female harm without justification, and I will see you punished, Jet,” Remy warned quietly. “The time to save Bale has passed us, and I fear the same for Kash.

It would hardly serve in Faith’s best interests to do Bale harm. Without him, her life is forfeit. And with the things we are learning about werewolves, the same is true for Charity. Without her mate, she will go insane.”

Remy rolled his eyes as Jet grunted. He rose to his feet, looked down on Remy, and said, “Let’s hope you are right. But if I have to, I will kill both females. Bale withstood the separation once before, and I will pray the same holds true for Kash.

Threaten to punish me all you like, Remy. It will not dissuade me.”

Remy didn’t bother to point out that Thea had not been Bale’s heart mate. Jet refused to acknowledge there was a difference. And he was probably right. Bale was strong enough; he just might survive such a loss. Kash, on the other hand… Remy didn’t believe the same held true.

He looked up at Jet and stated, “If you cannot let the past go or at least tone this shit down, I will have you reassigned, whether or not Sam agrees. He might want you here, but you will not stay if I want you gone.”

With a snort of disbelief, Jet turned and stalked toward the door. Remy shook his head as he watched the other male exit the room. Jet was going to be a problem. He felt it in his bones. But he was at a loss as to what to do about it. Remy feared one day Jet would fall victim to the very thing he hunted. He would kill the wrong individual, an innocent, and find himself in a freefall with only one destination—

Hell.

Seven days had passed since Charity disappeared. Each night, Kash felt he was getting closer and closer to her, but still he hadn’t found her. At the southwest corner of their property, he had encountered the remains of a deer, though. The animal had been partially eaten, and he prayed it was a good sign.

He sat at his workbench, his shoulders slumped in weary agony. God knew he should have been sleeping. But he’d lain in bed for over an hour, just staring at the ceiling. He no longer even had the energy to hunt for his mate. Kash knew he had reached the end.

His body was giving out, and his mind was giving up. He could no longer eat, his stomach revolting at any attempt. And the taste, no matter what he tried to consume, was bitter. Then there was the fatigue. Last night he had swerved into the side of a tree, scraping the shit out of his Harley. And the sad thing was he’d been too out of it to care.

The golden glow emanating from his hand warmed the metal, shaping and rounding the steel. He worked from memory, recalling the contours of his mate’s wolven form.

He didn’t know what it was about armor that attracted him so. He had hated wearing the stuff when it had been fashionable. But he loved the artistic outlet it provided. And so, as his last piece of work, Kash paid tribute to his mate.

“They are coming!”

The fear that suddenly gripped him had Kash jumping to his feet, the breastplate falling carelessly from his fingers as his chair crashed to the floor behind him. It was debilitating—consuming. He raised his hand to his neck as he gasped for breath.

Forcing air to travel through his tightening windpipe, he struggled to calm his frantically beating heart. It wasn’t his fear. He had to remember that.

Adrenaline coursed through him, giving his system a boost, and with a determination he had not felt in days, Kash grabbed a pair of Japanese swords. His mate was under attack, and once he saved her ass, he was going to bring her back to the fortress and teach her the consequences of running from him.

* * *

The howls that filled the night air had the hairs on her nape standing on end. Full-blown panic filled her because she knew what was coming, recognized it from her childhood. They were coming for her. And even though she welcomed death, every instinct told her to run. There were too many to fight off, and she didn’t want to go down this way. If they caught her, they would rape her until she was a broken shell.

So the wolf fled the safety of her cave.

At first she had no idea to where she was fleeing. Until she crossed a dirt road. She was heading toward the fortress, back to the safety of her mate. Even though he didn’t want her, she knew he would allow no one else to harm her.

Charity could smell them now. They were drawing closer, her scent urging them on.

At least she could be thankful they were young, unable to control the mating lust, otherwise she would have been in terrible trouble. The yips and growls indicated they were as aware of the competition as they were of her. Had they been older…

stronger, she might have had to contend with an actual hunt instead of a frenzied chase. But none were strong enough to rein the others in, to force them to his will.

Thank God. They were just as likely to turn on each other as they were on her.

The first attack took her by surprise. Teeth tore into her hindquarter as the wolf tried to force her to the ground. Flesh ripped as Charity picked up her pace in a burst of speed, fighting the pain and fear that threatened to render her powerless.

Faking to the left then swinging to the right sent him crashing into one of his companions. The second male attacked the first, and she kept running, having no desire to wait around for the outcome. Let them fight to the death. It would be one less male she’d have to clash with.

Charity sensed the second attack and lunged to the right. The male’s teeth only grazed her side, but the pain of his touch brought a shrill howl from her. The human in her wanted to turn and fight back. Her wolf wanted to rip the bastard’s throat out. But she kept moving, knowing if she paused for even a moment, they could easily surround her. Her only hope was to outmaneuver them.