Shadowed (Dark Protectors) Page 12

  Pain ripped into Jase’s chest, and he flew back into the center of the hallway. At least a couple of the bullets had missed the vest, damn it. Blood bubbled up from his chest, and he coughed it out. Blades of damage ripped into his lungs.

  Conn stormed out of the room, bullets spraying.

  Talen shoved up, gun out and firing.

  Jase grabbed his pistol, aimed in the general direction of the Kurjans, and fired.

  Dizziness caught him. He swayed and fell back, sparks detonating behind his eyes as his head hit the floor. Then, he was out.

  Jase awoke to find himself sandwiched between Talen and Conn in the back of the helicopter as it descended through a blowing rainstorm. Dusk had fallen. Man, they’d been at the warehouse all day. He hoped they’d found Garrett.

  Jase shook his head. “Status?” he croaked.

  Talen didn’t open his eyes, and a sense of healing came from him. Good. He was repairing the damage Jase had caused.

  Conn kept his gaze out the window. “Garrett wasn’t there. His tracker led to the basement, but it was hidden in some rock. We have four injured, two dead.”

  Damn it. Two bullets were still burrowed deep in Jase’s upper chest. He’d lost the ability to push them out mentally, the same way he’d lost the ability to alter the elements. Those gifts took mental concentration, and for some reason, he couldn’t focus long enough to make it happen. “It was a trap.”

  “A good one,” Conn muttered.

  Guilt pierced sharper than the bullets. Jase nodded. “I know.”

  The helicopter set down.

  Dage looked over his shoulder. “Report to the infirmary.”

  Jase slid from the helicopter. “I’m fine. Going home.” Without a backward glance, he fought the pain and jogged through the storm. Lightning flashed, not nearly as hot as the piercing gazes from his brothers.

  They should’ve yelled at him. Shit. They should’ve beat the hell out of him. His actions had almost killed Talen.

  He didn’t belong there anymore. It was time to find the demons and end this.

  First he had to get the bullets out of his flesh.

  Chapter 14

  Brenna stirred the stew on the stove. She’d ordered groceries, and a very nice vampire had delivered them. Moira had called to say they hadn’t found Garrett. She’d also mentioned Jase had been injured.

  As a vampire, he’d probably be healed before he arrived home. So, Brenna had made dinner. By the time he showed up, they’d have a late meal. Though she’d reached out to every contact she had in the immortal world, nobody had a line on Garrett. Yet. But she was still waiting to hear from a couple, so maybe she’d have good news for him.

  A thump echoed on the front porch. Brenna tilted her head. Another thump. Setting down the spoon, she hurried to open the door.

  Jase fell inside.

  Brenna gasped and reached for him, almost hitting her knees as she took his weight. He grabbed the wall for support and left a bloody handprint. Bruises and burns marred his face and exposed skin.

  Panic shoved Brenna into motion. “You need a doctor.”

  “No.” Half-leaning and half-tugging her along, he maneuvered them into the kitchen, where he dropped into a chair. “There’s a medical kit in the cupboard by the fridge.”

  A medical kit? Was he freakin’ crazy? Her heart pounding so hard her ribs hurt, she stumbled to the counter and yanked out the metal box. “I’m not a doctor.”

  “I know.” Groaning, he tried to unhinge his vest.

  She placed the box on the table and slapped his hands. “Let me.” Ignoring his wince of pain, she pulled the Velcro free.

  He exhaled sharply when she slid the vest over his head. Wounds dotted his upper chest—two bullet holes.

  She leaned closer, and the scent of smoke and gunpowder assaulted her nose. “The bullets are still in?” That wasn’t possible.

  “Yes.” Closing his eyes, he reached for the bottom of his tattered shirt and gasped in pain. “My healing abilities haven’t returned completely.”

  Her breath caught. “Oh.” After years of being free? What the damn demons must’ve done to him. Then she grabbed his hands and stopped him. “Hold on.” Reaching for a junk drawer, she retrieved scissors and cut his shirt free. Stepping back, she stared.

  Purple, red, and yellow bruises covered his torso along with plenty of blood still sliding from the bullet wounds. “What in the world?”

  “Explosive.” Jase tipped back his head. “I don’t suppose you’d mind taking out the bullets?”

  Bile surged from her stomach. “Why didn’t you go to the infirmary?”

  “Why didn’t you tell your family you were dying?”

  Good point. “I can get the bullets.” Probably. She eyed the sink in case she needed to puke. Her hands trembled, so she shook them out. Grabbing a scalpel, she peered closer at his injury. “Take a deep breath and hold it.”

  He sucked in air, his eyes remaining closed.

  She sliced a bigger opening in his wound.

  He didn’t even twitch.

  Okay. That had to have hurt. She clasped tweezers and slipped them into the hole. Blood spurted. Searching, she caught on something. Angling the metal closer, she pinched and tugged out a green bullet. His flesh made a squishy sound as the projectile was removed.

  She swallowed several times and released the bullet onto the table. Then she went for the second wound. “Did you know that my people invented the lasers that turn into metal bullets upon hitting flesh?”

  “Yes. Anything that includes altering matter to another state is usually from you crazy witches.” His lower lip tipped on the last.

  She found the other bullet and removed it. “You’re just jealous.”

  “Very.” He grimaced.

  “Do I, ah, need to stitch you up?”

  “No.” He lifted his head, desperation and anger sizzling in his eyes. “I can heal the holes now that the bullets are out.”

  Brenna nodded and cleaned up the mess, turning to face him.

  He sprawled in the chair, wounded and hurt. She shook her head. “What happened?”

  “I forgot all my training and almost got my brother killed,” Jase whispered.

  “Is he all right?” It didn’t really matter which brother, so she didn’t ask.

  “Yes.”

  “Then it’s over.” She reached for him. “Let’s get you cleaned up so you stop bleeding all over this too-perfect house.”

  He staggered up, and she helped him to the shower, removing his boots and pants.

  He leaned against the wall. “Weren’t we just here?”

  She turned on the steam. They had been, and she was in danger of getting her heart demolished by the need to save him. The silly, feminine urge to rescue. The fact that she recognized the problem didn’t mean her heart would protect itself. “Get in the shower.”

  He slipped into the steam. Almost instantly, two broad hands yanked her under the spray.

  “Hey—”

  “You’re bloody.” Jase angled his body to protect her face from the hot water.

  She glanced down at her hands. Blood had already crusted in her nails. His blood.

  “ ’Twas my first surgery.” The smile she tried to force trembled on her lips. Her stomach lurched.

  “Easy now,” Jase murmured, turning and holding her hands under the stream. “You did a good job, Brenna Dunne.”

  “Another skill for my résumé.” The fatal lilt of her voice echoed through the steam.

  Jase cupped her chin, lifting her face and removing her fogging glasses. “I’m not going to let you die.”

  The world blurred to heated steam and wet male.

  “You should save yourself first.” She allowed him to turn her hands palms-up to wash away his blood. “Please.” The plea made her wince.

  He stilled, and tugged her hands to his chest. “Why?”

  Her gaze met his. Tears pricked the back of her eyes. “I want a chance. I deserve one.�
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  His eyes filled. “I know.”

  “So give me one.” Maybe, just maybe, they could save each other and not be so alone in this damn world.

  He studied her until she’d figured all her secrets had been delved into. Even so, turmoil chased across his face. Giving a short nod, he brushed wet hair away from her forehead. “All right.”

  Her heart leapt. “All right?”

  He shrugged. “All I can do is try. Whatever the hell that means.” For her. He was going to try for her. “I’ll help.”

  “I know.” A thumb under her chin angled her face for his kiss. A soft brush of his lips against hers.

  Hope and desire spiraled through her abdomen. She ran her finger over a bruise lining his jaw and opened her mouth.

  He slid inside, drugging her with his taste. Male and spice. Pleasure and ache whispered through her—from him. They’d mated, and his feelings poured into her.

  The vampire held back—and always had. The tight rein he kept on his emotions, on his passion, gave her pause. Temptation to unlock him, to free him, warred with self-preservation. For now, she kissed him back, dropping her emotional shields.

  He groaned low and took the kiss deeper.

  Heat and steam surrounded her. She flattened her hands against the bruised ridges on his abdomen, keeping her hold light. Even wounded, Jase lit her on fire. With a slow stretch, she coasted right into the flames.

  His hands manacled her hips. Before she could protest, he lifted her.

  She stiffened, breaking her mouth loose. “You’re hurt.”

  “I’m not that hurt.” With a powerful thrust, he embedded himself balls-deep in her.

  Pain and pleasure ripped through her. She arched her back, her mouth opening. His weight pressed her into the stone tiles, his body as hard as the wall.

  The billowing steam wrapped her in safety, stealing her thoughts. For the moment, she could only feel.

  Hot male, chilled tiles, throbbing cock.

  She rested her head back, sliding her palms up to his shoulders. The bullet holes had closed, and relief fluttered her eyelids. The man could still heal himself. ’Twas a promising start.

  His head dropped to her neck, where he nipped and sucked. The pull zinged right down to her sex. She secured her ankles at the small of his back, holding tight.

  His hands flexed, then slid around to where he penetrated her. One thumb brushed her clit.

  It was too much. She stiffened. “No—”

  “Yes.” He did it again. Then he tugged.

  She reared back, shocks of pleasure bombarding her, seeking his darkened gaze. Needing to see him. Reality and fantasy all whirled away, narrowing the moment to this man and this time. Nothing else mattered except the way he held her, the way he took her. All-encompassing until she was complete.

  His muscles undulated as he kept them both still. Green darkened the copper in his eyes to midnight. “Brenna.”

  Flutters of heat coursed through her skin. The way he said her name—as if it was his alone. As if she were his.

  Slowly, he slid out and then back in, torturing them both. Then again. She clenched around him, her thighs trembling.

  Sharp fangs dropped low. She groaned in response and tilted her head, exposing her neck.

  The sharp points cut deep before she could blink. A climax tried to take hold, tried to bear down on her. She fought it, wanting the closeness to remain. Biting her lip, she tried to hold back, but the flames kept building higher. Higher, hotter, and faster.

  Jase pounded harder, holding her in place, drinking her blood.

  His tongue lashed the wound, closing it. “Now, Brenna.”

  The shower sheeted white through the fog. She cried out, the orgasm rippling through her. Riding the waves, she dropped to his chest, biting his pec.

  He growled and ground against her.

  They came back to reality together. He set her on her feet, tipping back her head. “I’d do anything for you, Bren.” Softly, gently, he kissed her with so much hope, tears pricked her eyes.

  Jase kept his body perfectly still in defense against the need to fidget. His bulk dwarfed the flowered chair, and he felt like an overgrown dumbass in the feminine office. He’d never ventured into any of the private offices in the main lodge that weren’t commandeered by his family. This was not what he meant when he’d told Brenna he’d try.

  Lily Sotheby smiled and settled her skirts around her petite body. Well over three centuries old, the blond prophet had sparkling blue eyes, frighteningly delicate features, and a wicked sense of humor. As one of the three Realm prophets, she was tasked with bringing hope and faith to their people.

  Who the fuck knew she was also a shrink?

  She took a sip of something raspberry-smelling from a dainty teacup. “So, you’re going crazy?”

  Jase frowned. “Um, no?”

  “Then why are you here?”

  His meddling mate had made him an appointment. “Apparently I need help of the psychological type.”

  “Why?” Lily lifted a delicate eyebrow.

  “I’m angry.”

  “Well, of course you are. The demons kidnapped you, tortured you, and nearly killed you.” She smiled, a dimple flashing in her smooth cheek. “I’d be angry, too.”

  Um, okay. “Everyone thinks I need help.”

  “Do you?” She tilted her coiffed head to the side.

  “Shit if I know.” He coughed, heat rising in his face. “Pardon the language, prophet.”

  “I know what shit is, Jase.” She took another sip. “So, you’re angry. Any plans for revenge?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are they reckless, stupid, or desperate plans?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Then what’s the problem? Of course you want revenge. Who wouldn’t?” Her tiny feet kicked out from under the skirts. The dress was somewhat reminiscent of the last century, yet on Lily, it worked.

  “Okay.” He shook his head. “I’m confused.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Good. Let’s talk about that.”

  Irritation and an odd panic shot down his spine. “Aren’t you supposed to help me get rid of the anger?”

  “Why would I?”

  “Because anger is bad.”

  “Says who?”

  “Everyone.” The word exploded from his gut.

  “Ah.” She leaned back. “So, you’re not responding like you think everyone else wants you to?”

  “I can’t be who they want.” The words hurt as they spilled from him.

  She pursed her lips. “I assume you know your brothers fairly well.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, let’s take a look at this. Knowing the king, what do you think Dage wants to do with the demons who hurt you?” Lily’s voice softened even more.

  Jase exhaled, his fists clenching. “Knowing Dage? He’s torn between wanting to rip their world apart and fulfilling his duties as king to find peace.”

  “Talen?”

  “Talen wants to kill them all.” Jase fought a rueful grin.

  “Conn?”

  “Same as Talen, but probably with more finesse.”

  Lily nodded. “And Kane?”

  “Kane wants to take them out cleanly but with great precision.” Jase sat back, his mind spinning. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

  “Like what?” Lily asked.

  “Like they’re all feeling pretty much what I am.” He shook his head. Since when had he only thought about himself? His hands shook, so he tucked them in his pockets.

  “What does that tell you?”

  “I have no clue.” But it made him feel both relieved and guilty as hell. “I’m afraid I’ll never be the same.”

  “You won’t.” Her blue eyes darkened.

  His chin jerked up. “Aren’t you supposed to reassure me?”

  “Why the heck would I reassure you?” She smoothed down her long skirt.

  “Um, that’s your job?”

  “Nop
e.” She smiled. “I’m here to help you heal, and the truth heals. You went through hell, and you’ll never be the person you were. Doesn’t mean you can’t be an incredible person, a happy person. But if you expect to be able to forget . . .”

  “I want to forget.”

  “Why?”

  “Because . . .” He stilled and drew in a deep breath. “I didn’t like who I became underground.”

  “Who would?” She tilted her delicate head to the side. “But you survived, and whoever you became during that short time helped you to live, Jase.”

  He shrugged, his gut churning. “Okay.”

  “You know what?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “Who you became underground isn’t who you are now. You’re different already, and you can become whomever you wish.”

  He studied her and let the words sink in. Was she correct?

  Lily stood, and his manners instantly shot him to his feet.

  She smiled and took his arm to escort him to the door. “That’s enough for today.”

  He stumbled. “That’s it?”

  “Yes. Next time we’ll talk about the anger.” She opened the door.

  He paused. “You said anger was good.”

  “It’s good if you use it—not so good if it eats you up.” She patted his arm and all but shoved him into the hallway. “See you in a few days.” The door closed.

  He rubbed his chin, the world settling. How odd.

  A feminine laugh bubbled from behind him. He turned to find his niece sitting on a bench. “Jane?”

  “Yeah. The prophet is a kick in the pants, isn’t she?” Janie stood, barely reaching his chest. In her twenties, the young woman held the world on her shoulders. “I’m usually confused, yet somehow feel better when I finish talking to her.”

  Jase nodded, his head cloudy. “All right. What are you doing here?”

  “Sometimes Lily helps me to focus a vision. I’m hoping to see Garrett and find him.” The young psychic pushed open the door, her shoulders slumped as if the air pressed down on her.

  “You’re not responsible for your brother, Jane.”

  She sighed, glancing back at him. “Sure I am. He’s my little brother—vampire or not.” Agony and fear flashed in her eyes to be quickly quashed.