Taste Me (27 page)

“Here!” Scarlett’s T-shirt was in his hand. He quickly snuffed out the fire, reducing the pain from nuclear to merely excruciating, and lurched to his feet.

“Get back.” He shoved Scarlett behind him.

“We really don’t want to hurt Scarlett.” Stephen inhaled deeply, momentarily holding his breath like he was taking a hit from a bong. When he released the breath, pleasure hazed his eyes. “But you? That’s another matter entirely.”

We?
Shit, he hadn’t cleared the room. Lukas opened his senses, his gaze darting to every corner and entrance. Behind him, Scarlett scraped breath into her lungs. He didn’t hear anyone else.

“So nice of you to join the party. We were sure you’d arrive sooner or later.”

Lukas stared at the electricity arcing and snapping off the smaller man’s body. The gun closet hidden behind a slab of wood at the far end of the maple shelving unit might just as well be on Mars.
This’ll teach you not to carry, you arrogant asshole.

Behind him, Scarlett rasped, “There’s no one else here.”

As she spoke, Stephen jumped. Lukas grunted as another surge of electricity slammed into him. His knees buckled like someone jacked him from behind with a crowbar. “Jesus,” he gasped, trying to tug Stephen’s legs from around his body. The little bastard was burning him alive.

Lukas staggered toward the wall, ramming Stephen’s back against the windowsill. As wood splintered, the smaller man hollered in pain, but he didn’t let go. Lukas twisted and launched them toward the heavy maple shelving unit, ruthlessly banging Stephen’s ruined elbow into the hard wood.

Stephen shrieked and dropped to the floor, but not before delivering a massive jolt that turned his muscles to mush.

His legs collapsed underneath him. He raised a hand to his jittering heart. Scarlett’s hoarse scream was the last thing he heard before it all went dark.

***

Scarlett watched in horror as Lukas fell like timber. As Stephen scuttled over to Lukas’s stunned body and climbed on top of him, she searched frantically for a weapon.

Electricity arced between them. Scarlett smelled charred skin, and the soles of Lukas’s boots were starting to smoke.

As Stephen slowly lowered his mouth to Lukas, Scarlett grabbed the mike stand, holding it like a baseball bat.

Lukas, don’t move. Please don’t move.

She planted her feet and swung, her banshee wail shattering the windows and raining glass onto the sidewalk below.

There was a horrible, hollow thunk. Blood sprayed as Stephen slumped on top of Lukas, and the full body contact sent him into spasms. “Oh gawd.” Scarlett dropped the mike stand and tugged woozily at Stephen’s leather belt. Smoke wisped off Lukas’s eyebrows, and the skin on his lips was crisping before her eyes. “Damn it.” Breaths sobbed from her throat as she pushed at her drummer’s shoulders. “Damn it.”

Footsteps pounded up the stairs. Jack burst through the door with his gun drawn, quickly followed by Gideon Lupinsky. They were both bleeding from the ears, though neither man seemed to notice. Together, the men rolled Stephen off Lukas, whose veins popped and jittered like they were about to burst out of his skin.

“Jenny!” Gideon snapped into his headset. “We need the defibrillator. Now.”

Scarlett collapsed against the wall as people exploded into motion around her. Jack’s voice was tight as he called an ambulance. Gideon’s partner trotted in, breathing hard, carrying a small yellow box that she handed to Gideon before cutting Lukas’s shirt off with a pair of scissors.

I should be helping.
A white haze pushed at the edges of her vision. More police filled the room, but the loudest thing she heard was the rasp of Calamity’s tongue as he lapped at her face.

Jack crouched beside her. “Scarlett? Let me check you out.”

She touched his bloody ear with a hand she couldn’t feel. “Sorry.” Her teeth started chattering, and her head, suddenly too heavy for her neck, sagged back against the wall. Black speckles flew into the white clouds, blocking her view. Were they birds? Bats? “So many of them,” she whispered through her stinging throat.

“Medic!” she heard Jack yell as the blackness engulfed her.

“I’m leaving now,” Scarlett said with every lick of command and influence she could wring from her sore throat. “Thank you for the excellent care, but I feel fine and I have to leave now.” She shoved back the blanket and stood, picking at the adhesive tape holding the IV in place at her wrist. Once she had the tape completely torn off, she held out her arm to the nurse. “Either you yank this, or I will.”

The nurse goggled at the unsecured needle, now leaking blood. “Ms. Fontaine—”

Scarlett pulled the IV herself.
Wow, that needle’s… really, really long.
“Do you have any gauze? A Band-Aid? No?” She wadded the pristine white sheet in her hand and pressed it against the welling blood.

“Ms. Fontaine, please. The doctor will be here to speak with you very soon. You’re upset—”

“Ya think?”

The nurse recoiled and scurried out of the room, whether to get a Band-Aid, the doctor, or hospital security, Scarlett didn’t know, and she didn’t care. She peeked under the red-flecked sheet. The bleeding had almost stopped.

Where was Lukas? And where were her clothes?

Stepping out of the flimsy hospital gown they’d insisted on bundling her into when she arrived, she walked, shivering, to the closet. There, on the floor, was a yellow plastic bag containing the meager belongings she’d arrived with. She dumped the contents on the bed, swallowing hard as she picked up her black yoga pants. How could she ever wear them again without remembering?

Stephen, what happened to you? When did we lose you?

And where was Lukas now?

As she dressed with shaky hands—having no shirt, she had to put the hospital gown back on—she tried to sort the memory fragments into some logical order, but her brain wasn’t cooperating. She didn’t remember being transferred to the ambulance, just waking up in one—with Lukas jerking and shuddering next to her, the defibrillator and leads still attached to his bare chest. His arms and legs spilled over the sides of the gurney, and the compartment reeked of singed hair and skin. After the ambulance screeched to a stop at the entrance to the ER, they’d hustled Lukas out and away, separating them. She hadn’t seen him since.

The essentials covered, Scarlett walked out of the examining room. She was going to get some information, from someone, somewhere.

Now.

Dozens of people milled in the hallway and in the waiting room, most of them with cameras. “There she is!”

The pack swarmed toward her like rabid hyenas. Quickly surrounded, she raised her hand to protect her eyes from the bright flashes of light.

“Scarlett! How are you?”

“Scarlett! Did Stephen rape you?”

The excitement in their voices made her sick. Before she could speak, Gideon Lupinsky waded into the mass, wrapped his arms around her midsection, and bodily extracted her, roughly pushing through the crowd. “Get this garbage out of here,” he snapped at the uniformed officers trailing in his wake.

He carried her until they rounded a corner leading to a hallway blocked by four posted officers. Beyond them, the hallway was blissfully empty. “You okay?” he asked as he set her on her feet, holding on to her shoulders until she steadied.

“Yeah. Thanks for the rescue.”

Gideon escorted her to a family room where her mother, Elliott, Sasha, Rafe, and Antonia waited. Her mother and Elliott were dressed for the boardroom, but the younger Sebastianis had all apparently dropped other activities to come quickly to the hospital. Sasha was wearing a leotard, tights, and toe shoes. Rafe’s clothes, face, and hair were flecked with clay. Antonia cuddled next to her father on the couch, completely wrapped in a thin, hospital issued blanket.

Rafe approached quickly and took her hand. No doubt fear was pumping off her like water from a fire hose. “He’s okay,” he said. “He’s going to be okay.” Before she realized he’d done it, Rafe led her to a chair and she was sitting down.

Her mother kneeled next to the chair, carefully touching the red marks on her throat, stroking her temples. A film of tears glazed the steely anger in her eyes.

“I’m fine, Mom. A little hoarse, but I’ll recover. Where’s Lukas?”

Claudette and Elliott exchanged a look. “We just left him,” Elliott finally answered. “He’s a little singed, banged up, but his heart rhythm is normal again.” He smiled ruefully. “He’s already complaining because the doctors won’t release him.”

“And… Stephen?”

Gideon unconsciously rubbed at a red mark on his hand. “He’s being treated at Quarantine.”

“Being treated” meant he was alive. She wondered why she cared.

“He’s drifting in and out of consciousness,” Gideon said. “It’ll be awhile before we can interrogate him.”

There was a knock at the door. Before Gideon could open it, a raven-haired, white-coated valkyrie entered, her gaze immediately zeroing in on Scarlett. “Ms. Fontaine. You left your room before we could discuss your test results.” She smiled and indicated the door. “Would you please come with me?”

“No.”

“Scarlett, please go with the doctor,” her mother urged.

“Tell me here. Cut to the chase.” Scarlett met the older woman’s eyes. “Then I’d like to see—”

“—see Mr. Sebastiani. I know.” The doctor, whom the embroidery on her pocket identified as “Dr. Melvin,” sighed as she sat in the chair adjacent to Scarlett’s. “It feels good to get off these tired, old feet.”

Scarlett eyed the doctor’s stylish, low-heeled boots, the gorgeous tangle of necklaces at the neckline of her red, silk blouse, the incisive intelligence in her eyes.
Tired old feet my ass.

“Your heart checked out normal. You have some bruising at your throat, but your trachea, esophagus, and vocal cords aren’t damaged. Your singing voice won’t be impacted.” She hesitated. “He didn’t latch on to you long enough to do much harm.”

But he had latched on to Lukas.

Dr. Melvin glanced at Elliott. “Mr. Sebastiani took quite a jolt, but thanks to Commander Lupinsky and his partner, his heart rhythm’s back to normal and it seems to be staying that way. Brain function is currently normal. He has some rather painful burns which are being treated as we speak, and we still have to test his muscle function.”

Scarlett relaxed, just a bit. “When can I see him?”

Dr. Melvin and Elliott exchanged a glance.

“What?” Scarlett snapped.

The doctor finally spoke. “Mr. Sebastiani doesn’t want visitors at this time.”

Scarlett’s stomach tightened. The doctor’s bland, diplomatic response didn’t quite ring true. “You’ve all seen him?”

Silence. Then Sasha answered, “Yes.”

Scarlett glanced around the room, mentally cataloguing the occupants. “Where’s Jack?” Holding up her hand, she said, “Don’t even bother. He’s with Lukas right now, isn’t he?”

Other than the birds chirping in the small aviary in the corner, the silence was deafening.
Damn you, Lukas
. “So it’s just me he doesn’t want to see.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Fontaine,” Dr. Melvin said.

He was walking away from her, without moving a muscle. Without saying a single goddamn word.

Again.

Not this time.
Scarlett stood and stalked to the door. “Excuse me a moment, please. I need to visit the restroom.”

As she left, she caught Sasha’s approving nod from the corner of her eye.

***

Lukas barely held back a groan as he dropped his head back to the pillow. Why had he refused pain medication?

Bad call.
He was full of bad calls today.

Now that the adrenaline had worn off, the aftereffects of every injury Stephen had inflicted, and every procedure he’d undergone, screamed and hollered for his attention. The back of his neck hurt like a bitch, and every now and again random muscles twitched like grasshoppers were jumping under his skin. His jaw and teeth sockets hurt, and he’d kill for some ChapStick. He smelled ozone and singed hair, could taste his own crisp skin.

His balls were burned.

An EKG machine softly blipped his heart’s rhythm, and leads trailed from his noggin to a silent machine next to it. IVs snaked into both wrists. But he could see. His arms and legs moved. And most importantly, he couldn’t taste Stephen any longer.

Thankfully, Scarlett wouldn’t see him like this.

Jack stepped into the hospital room, his eyes widening momentarily before returning to their typical implacability. Lukas sighed. The nurses had done their best to clean him up, but he probably looked like he was at death’s door.

“You definitely need some grooming help,” Jack said as he approached the bed.

“Look who’s talking.” Jack’s suit was a rumpled mess, and trails of dried blood snaked from his ears to his jaw line. “How’s Scarlett?”

“Arguing with the doctor. She’ll be fine.”

Relief flooded into him. The sight of the little shit’s hands wrapped around Scarlett’s throat would be burned into his retinas for a very long time to come.

“How—” Lukas coughed against the sting in his throat. Jack grabbed the glass of water from the bedside table and held the straw so Lukas could drink. “Thanks,” he said when he finished. “How did that little shit get the drop on me?”

Because, Christ, that stung. How had a man half his size taken him down?

“Wyland’s floated a theory that, instead of absorbing emotional energy passively, like most incubi, he might be tapping into it as an energy source, and can transfer that energy to others when he’s agitated or excited. Basically, he tased you, bro.” Jack paused. “Gideon took a pretty good shot when he cuffed Stephen. He’s okay,” he quickly added. “Superficial burn.”

Lukas pursed his cracked lips and swore at the sting. His mind raced. How could Stephen possibly do that? “Genetic anomaly?”

Jack shrugged. “Who knows? But for someone his size, he certainly packed a punch. Speaking of which,” he smiled grimly, “Scarlett bashed in the bastard’s skull but good.”

Lukas didn’t know whether to be proud or appalled. Reality was an uncomfortable mixture of both. “She shouldn’t have had to. He was at my house. I tasted the fucking ashes. He was right there, and I didn’t pick up a damn thing.”

So much for his so-called talent.

“We had no reason to suspect him, and you know it. He was Scarlett’s friend, a co-worker she’d safely traveled with for over a year—a victim found seriously injured at the same crime scene where Annika lost her life. We never thought to cross-check his DNA with the sample we collected from under Andi’s fingernails. If you’re going to beat yourself up, you’d better save a punch for me, and for Gideon too. Stephen fooled us all.”

Intellectually, Lukas knew that Jack was right, but… damn, Stephen had hurt so many people. People he loved. He hadn’t saved Scarlett, Scarlett had saved
him
. Unacceptable. “Are you sure we got him?”

Jack nodded. “Gideon said Stephen momentarily regained consciousness in the ambulance, rambling about hurting Andi, hurting Annika, hurting Scarlett, hurting you.” Jack cleared his throat. “Apparently, a beast living inside him forces him to do things. He also claimed he was from another planet. Gideon entered his recording into evidence, but, to use a highly technical term, the guy’s whacked. He may not ever be able to stand trial.”

Lukas stared at his right quad twitching under the blankets until the surge of anger drifted away. “We have to let the process play out.” As a witness—hell, as a
victim
—he’d be recused from rendering judgment.

A light mandarin scent soothed his charred nostrils. She was here. And she was really, really pissed.

Scarlett stood in the doorway with her fists clenched, looking more like an avenging valkyrie than a siren. Her face was ghost-pale, and she wore those damn black stretch pants and a hospital gown. There was a trail of blood on her hand, and he could see the bastard’s handprints on her neck from here. Clenching his sore jaw, he steeled himself for what he had to do—remove himself from her life, once and for all. It was the best solution for everyone concerned.

“Don’t you even think about it.” Scarlett stalked into the room, blood-flecked eyes flashing. “I’ve had enough of your martyr crap.”

Jack held up both hands and headed for the door. “You’re on your own.” He kissed Scarlett on both cheeks as he passed, squeezing her hand. “Give him hell,” he murmured.

Lukas heard. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Jack looked at him with pity. “I am.”

***

Scarlett’s heart took a slow swan dive, right off the cliff. He was going to do it again. He might be flat on his back in a hospital bed, with hanks of his glorious hair singed off, but she could read the resolve in his eyes.

“You chickenshit.”

“What?” His expression didn’t shift one iota, but beside him, the EKG blipped.

“You heard me.” She paced the room in her bare feet. “Tell the doctor to keep me from your room? You coward. You’re getting ready to walk away again. What’s your excuse this time?” She didn’t give him a chance to respond. “‘I should have known.’ ‘I should have protected Andi, protected Annika.’ ‘I should have protected Scarlett.’” She stared at him with hands on her hips. “Am I close?”

“Yes. I should have protected you.”

“Damn you!” Her voice rolled through the room, rattling the windows in their frames. “You’re one of the strongest beings on this earth, but you’re not invincible.”

“Scarlett, you could have died. The bastard should never have—”

“Who pulled Stephen off of me in the first place, Calamity? No, it was you, Lukas. You.” Scarlett plopped on the edge of the bed and tried to take his hand. He pulled it away, but not before she saw the burns.

“Thank you for saving my life,” he said.

His voice was so polite, and oh-so-remote. “We saved each other!” she said, anger bubbling over. Across the room, the mirror cracked. “We saved each other,” she repeated more quietly. “There’s no one I trust more. I trust you with my life.”

“Bad bet, babe. You nearly lost it today.”

“I know you’ll always be there for me, Lukas.”

“Of course. You’re my stepsister—and the Siren Second.”