Tall, Silent & Lethal

Page 41

  That she’d survived.

  Cloe had taken his blood and not only survived, but if what Seth said was correct, then she was going to be just like him. She’d never age. She’d heal from anything as long as she drank blood. The best part, she would be strong, strong enough to protect herself against the bastard that had marked her. He was relieved that it had worked, but another part of him, the part that was struggling to accept the memories forcing their way to the front of his mind felt like a part of him was dying.

  Marta was gone.

  Jaw clenched tightly, he forced himself to breathe through his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to retain the weak grip that he had on his control. His sister, his best friend and the person that he’d loved more than anything was gone. Not only that, but she’d been the one to take herself away from him, leaving him alone. If he’d thought for one second that the men in this room had been the ones that took her away from him, nothing on this earth would have been able to keep him calm, not even Cloe.

  He hadn’t been ready to lose her. He’d never got the chance to tell her how much he loved her and now he never would. He wanted to scream at the injustice of the situation, unleash his anger on the world, but he couldn’t. The woman lying on top of him needed him to keep it together long enough to figure out who these people were and why he was handcuffed, from the feel of it, to a bed in what smelled like a cheap hotel room.

  “Just relax, Christofer,” one of the men said in a calm, soothing tone that he didn’t trust for one goddamn minute.

  It was the same tone that the doctors had used on him when he’d first opened his eyes in that lab and realized that he’d changed. They’d wanted his cooperation and answers to their questions. As long as Christofer had told them what they wanted to know, they’d been nice to him, which of course had lasted for all of five seconds. He didn’t know who these men were and he honestly didn’t care. All that mattered was keeping Cloe safe until he could take her someplace-

  “I’m going to remove your handcuffs,” the man said, taking him by surprise.

  He opened his eyes and met the icy blue eyes of the man looking down at him with so much pity that Christofer had to force himself to look away, afraid he’d really lose it.

  “We ran out of blood a few hours ago,” the man explained apologetically as he unlocked the cuff holding Christofer’s right hand immobile. “We had just enough to see Cloe past her transition and you through the worst part of your healing. Caine and Danni are getting more blood to help Cloe with the changes and some to take care of that headache that you probably have,” he explained as he removed the last cuff, making Christofer realize that his head was pounding.

  “You shot me,” Christofer said a few seconds later, remembering the last time that he’d woke up with his head hurting this badly.

  “You were going after my son,” the man said unapologetically, tossing the cuffs on the bed by his side where they could easily be grabbed and used to cuff him back to the bed if he stepped out of line.

  “He had Cloe,” Christofer muttered, wincing as the pain in his headache intensified.

  “Which is why I had to put you down,” the man said with a shrug as he sat down on the other side of the bed.

  “Oh,” Christofer asked, carefully shifting so that he could sit up without disturbing Cloe, “and why’s that?”

  The man sighed heavily as he said, “Because if I hadn’t, you would have killed my son for touching your mate. ”

  Chapter 23

  “Just relax!”

  Was he f**king kidding?

  There was a tube down her goddamn throat, pumping blood into her stomach! There was no way in hell that she was going to be able to calm down, especially not in his arms.

  “Just calm down, mein Schatz,” Christofer said, his arms tightening around her, pinning her arms to her side and stopping her from thrashing.

  “Uck. . ooooo!” she snapped at him, wanting to kick the bastard in the balls when he sighed heavily.

  “Just swallow, Cloe,” he said, tentatively pulling one arm away after making sure that she wasn’t going to fight him and grabbed hold of the tube.

  Realizing that he wasn’t going to let her up until she did what he’d asked, she narrowed her eyes on the water stained ceiling above her and swallowed. Within seconds he had the tube out and she was coughing her damn head off. With a muttered curse, he sat up and pulled her into a sitting position beside him. Before she could ask for something to drink, a bottle of ice-cold water was pressed into her hand. Coughing uncontrollably, she twisted the cover off, pressed the bottle to her lips and swallowed as she thought over everything that he’d put her through.

  That…. son…. . of………. .

  “You bastard!” she snarled between coughing fits, launching herself off the bed to put some space between them, but the son of a bitch wouldn’t give her an inch. As soon as she turned around to tell him exactly what she thought of him, he was off the bed and standing only a few feet away from her, looking miserable.

  “I’m sorry,” Christofer croaked, standing there with his arms by his sides, looking completely lost as he waited for her to strike.

  She took a step towards him and then another until she found herself standing less than a foot away from him, trembling with the urge to slap him. She stared up at him, grinding her jaw shut to the point of pain, but she barely felt it. She couldn’t believe this was the man that she’d trusted and allowed herself to care about when he was nothing more than a monster.

  “Do it,” Christofer whispered hoarsely, his expression pained as he waited for her to strike like that would somehow make them even.

  Nothing ever would, she realized with disgust, forcing herself to walk away from him.

  “Cloe, I-”

  She cut off his apology with a slam of the bathroom door in absolutely no mood to hear any of his bullshit apologies. There was nothing that he could say or do that would make up for what he’d done to her, what he’d made her.

  *-*-*-*

  “Cloe-”

  No answer.

  Not that he’d expected one. He’d royally f**ked up. There was no excuse for what he’d done to her. He’d viciously attacked her, could have killed her, probably technically had and now she was-

  “Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!” Cloe muttered frantically as the bathroom door was suddenly thrown open and Cloe was rushing out, a towel loosely wrapped around her.

  “What’s wrong?” he ended his question in a pained groan as Cloe turned around and dropped the towel, taking his breath away.

  “My ass!” she snapped accusingly, her eyes flashing a crimson red as she shot him a murderous glare that had his hands reflexively twitching to cover his defenseless balls. “Look at my ass!”

  Against his better judgment, he allowed his gaze to move down her scarred back, over her curvy h*ps and finally land on the body part in question. Somehow he found the willpower not to lick his lips, knowing that she wouldn’t appreciate the gesture. He forced himself to look over her ass, taking in every curve, the beautiful tanned skin, the fullness of each cheek, looking for a flaw, something wrong, but all he saw was perfection.

  “What am I looking at exactly?” he asked after a minute of staring at her ass and finding absolutely nothing wrong.