Flesh And Blood: House of Comarre: Book Two (House of Comarre 2) (37 page)

‘Mmm-hmm.’

‘She says you’re Kubai Mata. I thought the KM was a kiddie tale.’

‘Nope.’

So that’s how it was going to be? One-word answers? What kind of chump did this player think Doc was? He stopped short and grabbed Creek’s arm. ‘Listen to me, slayer. I don’t know what game you’re running, but you hurt Chrysabelle and I will rain hell down on you.’

Creek had enough sense not to laugh. ‘I’m not here to hurt her. I’m here to protect her.’

‘Then keep your hands and your mouth off her.’

Creek jerked his arm out of Doc’s grasp. ‘My business with the comarré is no concern of yours.’

Chrysabelle’s kindness in opening her home had brought out a protectiveness Doc hadn’t felt for anyone but Fi in a long while. ‘It is when she’s my friend. She’s not meant for you, slayer.’

That got Creek to laugh. ‘Oh, who is she meant for? Mal?’

‘Yes.’

‘You really believe that, don’t you?’

‘Yes. And so does Mal.’ Again the feeling of being watched ran over his skin like ants.

‘Who she’s with is her choice.’ Creek started after the Nothos, now no longer in sight.

Doc let it drop, picking up his pace to match the slayer’s. Minutes passed in uncomfortable silence, but they covered more ground, finally catching up to the Nothos again.

‘They’re slowing,’ Creek whispered.

More than slowing, they were scaling the wall of another estate, disappearing one by one over the side. ‘They’re going home.’

‘Back to Tatiana.’

‘Yes.’ The last Nothos vanished over the wall. Doc turned to Creek. ‘I’m going to do some recon. You in?’

In answer, Creek leaped to the top of the wall. No way could a human have done that. The brother was definitely enhanced. He looked down at Doc expectantly.

A second later, Doc stood beside him. He inhaled, catching the stench of the Nothos. He tapped the side of his nose, then pointed forward. Keeping to the top of the wall, they followed the odor.

Once the wall veered away from the roadside, palms and magnolias clustered against it, giving them cover. They slunk forward, now on all fours, moving cautiously. The smell of brimstone grew stronger.

Through the trees, they watched the Nothos file into the property’s guesthouse. On the driveway connecting the two, a male vampire carried a bound and gagged female toward a high-end sedan.

Doc pushed some palm fronds out of the way to see better and caught sight of the woman’s face. His blood chilled. Mia. Despite the bruises on her face, he recognized her. Pasha’s claims of seeing her death filled Doc’s head.

The vampire threw her onto the backseat, slammed the door, then got in behind the wheel. The car headed for the gated entrance.

Doc grabbed Creek’s arm. ‘I know that girl. I’m going after her. You get back to Chrysabelle’s, tell her we found Tatiana.’

Without waiting for an answer, Doc threaded past Creek, under the palms and back to the road. The car was already through the gate, its taillights red as embers a few yards up the road. Wherever that vampire was taking Mia, it couldn’t be good.

He jumped down, ready to run. A hand closed over his arm. He whirled around to see Ronan. ‘What are you—’

Ronan clamped a rag over Doc’s nose and mouth. ‘Time to pay the piper, shifter. Imagine finding you and Maris’s killer in one night. Dominic is seriously going to owe me.’ Powder on the cloth clung to Doc’s mouth and nostrils, the bitter taste an instant warning. He struggled not to breathe, but his heart jackhammered in his chest. He thrashed out at Ronan, but the fringe dodged him. At last Doc inhaled, choking as the powder clogged his airway. His throat burned and the taste of dirty nickels coated his tongue. The back of his brain went numb.

Ketamine.

A thick, heavy curtain closed around him. The ground under him fell away and he slipped down, down, down into a blackness as endless as death.

M
al adjusted the
Heliotrope
’s speed down to a crawl. By now, Creek and Doc had probably fought off the Nothos. Or had died trying. What had Doc been doing at Chrysabelle’s house anyway?
Maybe she’s kissing him, too.

‘I think we’re far enough out. I can’t even see the house.’ Chrysabelle had stayed quiet while Mal piloted her mother’s yacht through the waters of the Intracoastal, but now she kicked her feet up onto the leather sectional. ‘You could have let Creek drive the boat and gone after the Nothos yourself.’

He grunted in response. Did she really prefer Creek? The voices cheered as his stomach sank.
She wants him, not you. Good riddance.

‘Or I could have fought alongside all of you.’

Yes, because the last time she’d faced the Nothos, she’d done so well.

‘Of course, I realize because of our deal you have a stake in my protection.’

That wasn’t the only reason. Should he tell her how he felt? How could he when he wasn’t even sure.
Liar. Fool. Coward.

‘How’d you learn to drive a boat like this anyway?’

‘You pick up a lot in five hundred years.’

‘Oh good. For a moment I thought you’d gone mute.’ She jumped up and walked toward the control panel, where he stood between the wheel and the captain’s chair. She reached for a red button. ‘What’s this do?’

He grabbed her hand before she made contact with the distress locator. ‘Not that one.’

‘You feel a little cold. Time to feed soon.’

He let her hand go as his fangs shot down. Not the proper response. Especially when she’d made her choice and it hadn’t been him.
Never will be you.
‘I’m good.’ He backed away, needing distance. ‘Take the wheel.’

‘And do what?’ The narrowest ribbon of panic curled through her voice.

‘Just hold it steady.’ He stayed far enough away that her perfume didn’t wind around him like the serpent that had beguiled Eve. Why had he thought being in a confined space with her was a good idea?
Close enough to bite. To drink. To drain.
She’d probably get bored and head out to the deck any minute.

Instead, she grabbed the wheel. ‘You should teach me to drive in case I ever need to.’

A second later he was behind her.

She jumped, backing into him, then pulling away just as fast. ‘I hate when you do that.’

Was it him that made her jumpy? Someone with her experience with vampires should be used to the speed at which they moved. Or maybe his closeness bothered her because she wasn’t entirely sure Creek was the right choice. From his spot behind her, he put his hands on her shoulders and steered her into the captain’s chair, then planted his hands on the armrests. He leaned
in and almost sniffed the curve of her neck. Almost. The whining in his head kicked up a notch.

‘See this?’ He brushed his forearm against hers on the way to the instrument panel. ‘This is the fuel gauge.’

She nodded, pulling her arm into her side. ‘Got it. Fuel gauge.’

‘And this’ – he reached around her other side to tap the compass – ‘tells you what direction you’re going.’ Her warmth radiated into his skin from where his chest touched the back of her shoulder. Her pulse sang in his ears, an angel’s voice with a siren’s song. The voices whirled into a frenzy.
Drain her, drain her.

His mouth grazed the tender spot beneath her ear before he realized he’d moved.

She stilled. Then jerked away. ‘What are you doing?’

What he wanted to, that’s what. He spun the black leather chair until she faced him, about to tell her the truth of his feelings, even though he wasn’t sure himself. Then he saw guilt in her eyes.

‘Don’t.’ She put her hands up. ‘I have to tell you something.’

The tiniest shard of fear burrowed into his gut. ‘What?’

Her eyes stayed fixed on the horizon. ‘Kissing Creek was my choice. I
wanted
to kiss him.’

So she’d made her decision. He moved, trying to catch her eyes, but she refused to look at him. ‘It’s because he’s human, isn’t it?’

She shook her head as she lifted it. ‘No. Maybe. I don’t know why. I just wanted to.’ Her chin jutted out defensively. ‘I can kiss whoever I want to.’

‘Yes, you can.’ He pushed off the chair and took a few steps back. His hands shook with the memory of seeing them together. ‘I understand and I’ll leave you alone.’

She lifted her chin farther, her eyes clouding over. ‘What? No. I wasn’t trying to push you away. I just didn’t want you to think Creek had forced himself on me.’ She slipped out of the chair. ‘I don’t want you to leave me alone.’

‘What about Creek?’

She twisted to put her hands on the wheel. ‘I want both of you,’ she whispered. ‘That’s horrible, isn’t it?’ She moved away from the console. ‘I’m done driving. And ready to go home.’

‘It’s not horrible.’ Except for him. ‘I get that things are changing for you. Creek and I will deal with whatever you decide.’ He slid in behind the wheel and adjusted the boat’s speed.

She nodded. ‘Thank you for understanding. I’m going outside for a bit.’

He stared down at the control panel. He didn’t understand at all. But keeping part of her was better than losing all of her. When he looked up, Chrysabelle stood at the railing on the lower deck. Her hair flowed out behind her and the wind molded her white silks against her body. From this distance, the glow about her was soft and ethereal, reminding him of the first time he’d spotted her.

That night at Puncture seemed years ago now. She’d been frightened and looking for help. Not much had changed. She still had plenty to fear, plenty she needed help with. Her life was no better for knowing him.

Once this trip to the Aurelian was done, his curse would be broken. The time would be right for him to move on. Start fresh. Let her do the same.

He stared past her, into the black waters of the Intracoastal. He’d been starting fresh for almost five hundred years. He could do it again.

Up ahead, the dock came into view. At the end of it, Creek
stood alone, looking very much like a man with nothing good to report.

‘Doc’s gone.’ Creek shook his head, knowing the news wouldn’t go over well.

Chrysabelle rushed down the gangway. ‘What do you mean he’s gone?’

‘We made the first strike against the hellhounds, but they retreated—’

Mal shook his head. ‘Nothos don’t retreat.’

‘These did.’ Creek ignored Mal’s incredulous look and continued. ‘We tracked them back to Tatiana’s – she’s about an hour from here – then we saw another male vamp stuff a female varcolai into a car and take off with her. Doc said he knew the girl and went after her. I watched Tatiana’s a little longer, but got back to the street in time to see a fringe male throw an unconscious Doc into his trunk and peel off. I came back here as fast as I could.’

Mal cursed. ‘What did the fringe look like?’

‘I only saw him from the back. Short hair with flames carved into it, earrings—’

‘Ronan.’ The word came out of Mal’s mouth like a curse. ‘Head of security at Seven. Or was.’

Chrysabelle turned to Mal. ‘What would he want with Doc? You think he’s going to use him to get back at you?’

‘Get back at you for what?’ Creek asked, already imagining a few things.

‘Ronan and I have never seen eye to eye.’

‘Last time they fought was the night those fringe attacked me and I met you,’ Chrysabelle offered. ‘Mal beat Ronan up pretty badly. He’d want revenge.’

Mal shook his head. ‘Going after Doc isn’t his style. That kind of plan requires more thinking than Ronan has the capacity for.’

Chrysabelle crossed her arms. ‘Then what?’

‘The night we went to see Dominic, Doc talked to him about more than just the dead fringe he’d found.’ Mal shot Creek a look but kept talking. ‘I’m sure it had something to do with Fi. And the conversation didn’t go well.’ He paused. ‘Why was he staying at your house, Chrysabelle? Why would he leave Fi alone?’

Her gaze drifted downward. ‘I asked him if you two were fighting. He said no. He said it was a long story I was better off not knowing. I asked him if it involved Fi. He said yes.’ She looked up, tension playing across her pretty face. ‘Doc’s in trouble, isn’t he?’