“What?” The scout glanced at him, then back at the house.
“There’s a broken window. Lawrence never tolerated loose threads on the carpet. The staff should be falling over themselves to fix a broken window.”
The scout nodded. “There’s been no movement.”
Jett scanned the property. One of the apple trees on the hillside had lost a branch, and no one had picked it up. The grass, overgrown.
“No!” Jett hurried down the tree and ran full tilt out of the woods. He traversed the tall grass to the driveway, continued up the hill, and stopped at the gate. The Guardians kept up with him, except for the scout, who ran ahead and climbed the wall. He stood, balanced, with his gun drawn, ready to cover them if need be.
A wasted effort.
The gate, which had begun to rust, stood open a few inches. Jett shoved it inward. The hinges creaked and tall weeds clung to the iron bars, trying to hold the gate in place.
“Son of a bitch,” Jett said through clenched teeth.
The front yard had been taken over by tree saplings and weeds. A doghouse sat rotting and collapsed. Bits of trash dotted the ground. Judging by the size of the young trees, Lawrence had vacated the property not long after Jett had left with Thornton.
However, the faint odors of bitter, human sweat and vehicle exhaust mingled in the air. Jett studied the ground. “It does look like a vehicle pulled up to the gate and turned around. Someone was here.”
Vin sniffed the packed dirt. “Lawrence’s henchmen would’ve had his new address, one would think, but this is the scent of the human who drove off with Bryce. It’s faint, though. He’s long gone.”
“Yes.” Jett inhaled, tasting the familiar odor of leather and cigarettes. “I don’t smell Bryce. However…”
He had to be sure.
Steeling himself against his past, he kicked in the front door. The Guardians spread out, some going around back of the house, some following him inside.
Bare wood floor. Bare white walls. After a quick glance in the empty rooms where Lawrence had dined and slept, he tracked the kidnapper’s scent up the stairs to the laboratory.
The damned place reeked of chemicals as if the foul mix of odors had sunk into the drywall, diluting the human’s trail. He moved further inside.
Dirty walls, black lab benches, dust. The door to the walk-in refrigerator stood open, the fist indentations and fingernail gouges on the inside of the door a lasting testament to how the tiny, freezing space had once been used.
Turned out a demon could ignite fire no matter how cold, unless drenched with water first.
“What the hell?” a Guardian murmured, inspecting the door and glancing in Jett’s direction. Jett turned away. Their concern, after all, came years too late. As a child, what he would’ve given to see one of these demons opening that door…
Bryce. Bryce was still that child. Jett focused on the floor, searching for footsteps in the dust.
Vin stalked around the far side of the room, glancing into the closets. Jett pushed ahead to the rest of the research area. The cell-culture room, empty. The computer and microscope room, empty.
He paused in the entrance to the deserted surgery suite, nausea overpowering him, phantom pains shooting up all over his body. Memories. Nightmares. Too many of them.
A muffled cry drew his attention, breaking the cold grip of the past.
“Bryce?” Jett rushed down the hallway in the direction of the sound, Vin’s footsteps behind him.
The smothered voice called out again.
He reached the door at the end of the white, featureless hallway, and found it open. Inside, floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall bars divided the room in half and simple bedroom furniture occupied the space beyond. Just in front of the bars, a black trash bag lay on the floor, the contents squirming and kicking.
Jett fell to his knees, grasped the heavy-duty plastic, and tore it wide open. Curled up in the bag, Bryce met his gaze with wide eyes. Duct tape secured his mouth.
Cursing, Jett ripped the plastic more. The humans had wrapped the tape around the child’s legs and secured his arms behind his back. But the difference between finding a dead body and a living child was the hole in the plastic Bryce had managed to make with his fingers.
The other Guardians gathered around, silent. Jett shoved the wretched plastic away. Kneeling, Vin freed the child’s arms and legs. Jett eased the tape off the boy’s face. Unlike during the first rescue attempt in the woods, Bryce didn’t scream or cry. Eerily silent, he sat up, leaned against Jett, and shut his eyes. Bruises marked the side of the child’s face and neck, and blood stained his fingernails. He’d gotten a piece of his would-be executioners at some point.
The humans deserved far worse than the death Jett would deliver to them.
He got to his feet, holding Bryce against his chest, and let flames coat his skin to comfort the child. “How would you like to see your sister?”
The corners of Bryce’s mouth twitched and a hint of color returned to his cheeks. He opened his eyes and nodded.
Jett turned and left his old room, Guardians in tow.
…
“Bryce!” Lexine spotted the Guardians—and Bryce in Jett’s arms—as she paced around the motel’s garden. She broke into a run, crossed the lot, and threw her arms around Jett and her brother.
“Lexi,” Bryce murmured, leaning toward her. “I’m tired.”
“You can sleep.” She kissed his forehead. “We’ll be home by the time you wake up.”
“I’m going to stay here,” Jett said. “If Lawrence or his men left any trail at all, I need to find it. I will finish this.”
Her stomach knotted. “The humans who did this are still out there?”
“Yes.” The single word held enough menace to kill. “But I’ll find them.”
He shifted Bryce to her arms, but her brother reached out and grasped Jett’s jacket. Panic filled his voice. “Don’t go!”
Lexine fought back a fresh wave of tears. His whole life, her shy little brother had only reached out to family, never fearful but always cautious and quiet around strangers and acquaintances. Jett couldn’t realize the significance of Bryce’s request. “Jett, please stay with us.”
“Lawrence is a threat to all.” Vin stepped closer. “We’ll search the town and let you know the minute we find something. In the meantime, you’ll do more good staying here.” He bent toward Jett’s ear and dropped his voice to a near-soundless whisper. “Bryce needs you. Don’t make me kick your ass.”
Jett scoffed, but Bryce yanked on the sleeve of Jett’s jacket. “Please?”
He shoved a hand through his hair. “All right, but you have strange taste in security blankets, kid.”
Bryce smiled.
The Guardians dispersed, some by foot and some in the SUVs, as Jett took her brother from her arms so she could dig the room key from her pocket. She unlocked the door and led them inside the motel room.
Jett settled Bryce on the bed. Her brother curled up among all the extra pillows, and Jett sat, his posture stiff, next to him. Bryce picked at a button on the cuff of Jett’s jacket.
“I have to call home and let them know.” She took her cell phone out of her pocket and turned it on, having forgotten she’d switched it off earlier to save the battery. A message waited.
“Lex? The Guardians have told us what’s going on. I’m here if you want to talk.” Ginger, a human-archangel half-breed, had moved into Sanctuary eleven months ago. Not many in Sanctuary spent time out and about during the day, so Lexine deeply valued the other woman’s company. But, she had to call her mother and father first. She dialed.
A high-pitched chime preceded a recording. “The number you have dialed is not in service.”
Frowning, she dialed again, trying Ginger this time. Same message. The phone showed a strong signal, but Sanctuary only had cell coverage thanks to a tower provided by a wealthy human supporter. Maybe the electrical power had gone out for some reason. That happened every no
w and then. Maybe another thunderstorm went through.
“What’s wrong?”
“The call isn’t connecting. Maybe the power’s down. Or maybe it’s my phone.”
“Try this one.” He freed his wrist from Bryce and pulled a cell from his jacket pocket. “Vin just gave it to me.”
She dialed but got the damned recording again. “Must be the power.”
“That happen often?” Grinning, Jett jerked his arm away as Bryce reached again for the button. Her brother made fists and Jett pretended to fight him. Bryce “fought” back, though his smile didn’t quite reach the shadows in his eyes.
Lexine watched them for a moment before speaking, her tense muscles easing. Her brother would bounce back from this, especially with Jett around. She didn’t dare say it out loud, but quiet, tentative Bryce would be inconsolable after this trauma if not for this stranger he inexplicably trusted. She understood, though. Something about Jett put her at ease, too. “The colony loses power two or three times a year, usually in severe storms.” She sat on her brother’s other side and whispered, “Thank you, Jett.”
Bryce settled down on the pillows and closed his eyes.
Jett met her gaze, all humor gone from his expression. “Don’t thank me. I was wrong.”
“About what?”
He glanced down at Bryce. “Not here. Just…thank God we got there when we did.”
She shuddered. Did Jett mean Bryce’s life had been in danger, even though he’d assured her otherwise? But Jett had brought him back, alive and mostly unharmed. The bruises…what kind of individuals, of any species, could mistreat a child like that? Did they have no hearts at all?
“Without you, we wouldn’t have known where to find him. Thank you.” She got up and moved around the bed. Jett stood and she threw her arms around him.
He lifted a hand and stroked the back of her neck, the skin of his hand warm and rough. She breathed in his scent: dark honey and rich tea. His grip tightened and his other hand settled on the small of her back.
But he pulled away too soon, his eyes hooded. “You should get some rest, too. Are you due for some sleep?”
It had been a week since her last sleep. She nodded.
“I’ll keep you safe. If you want to rest, please do.”
She held his gaze for a moment. Though their kind needed sleep only once a week, and only for a couple hours, nothing could wake them from their coma-deep slumber. When sleeping, demons needed to trust their lives to those around them if an emergency arose.
Sincerity warmed his voice in the same tone he used when he promised her he’d bring Bryce back—so different from his more typical, gruff manner. Though she didn’t know him well, she did trust him enough to close her eyes for a while, even though the men who took her brother were still out there. Would they attack again? She curled up next to Bryce and shut her eyes, trying not to think about it.
Chapter Five
Jett paced around the hotel room for hours. Where the hell were Vin and the others? He opened the curtain an inch so he could survey the parking lot. Deserted. With a sigh, he turned back to the bed.
His thoughts sunk their teeth in Lawrence. Where had the son of a bitch gone? Why attack the colony and kidnap a young demon only to leave that demon to die in the abandoned lab?
He scoffed at his own questions. All that mattered was finding him. And killing him.
Both Lexine and Bryce slept, dead to the world and peaceful. Her mouth curved in a grin that complemented the smooth line of her jaw. She murmured in her sleep, the words unintelligible, and laughed.
Good. She deserved a few nice dreams. He approached the bed and fixed the blanket where it had slipped from her shoulder.
Her smile vanished. “No.”
Had her dreams shifted to nightmares?
She thrashed against the covers and hissed, baring her fangs.
“Whoa.” He sat on the edge of the bed and held her shoulders. What the hell was he supposed to do? A growl ripped from her throat. He touched her hot, sweat-moistened cheek.
She jerked her head to the side and her fangs sank into the base of his thumb—narrowly missing the bone—and her jaw locked in place.
“Fuck!” He stayed still despite the sharp pain. If he pulled away, he’d rip his own flesh. He tried a gentle tug. “Lexine, let go.”
Still lost to sleep, she didn’t move. The venom spread up his arm, its progress marked by tingling heat, harmless thanks to his natural immunity.
The warmth spread across his chest to his other arm, stomach, and legs. His muscles relaxed. His cheeks flushed. The immunity wasn’t news…but why the hell did he feel like he’d just downed a double glass of bourbon?
His gaze settled on her lips. The pain of the bite faded until all he knew was the warmth of the venom in his system and the awareness of her mouth on his skin.
Clenching his teeth, he stroked her hair with his free hand. Her furrowed brow smoothed, and she released him. She collapsed back on her pillow and groaned.
Blood and venom poured from the four little wounds at the base of his thumb. He rushed to the bathroom to minimize spilling blood on the carpet—humans tended to freak out over that kind of thing, one more problem he didn’t need. Holding his bleeding hand under running water, he pulled a wad of tissues from the dispenser. Thankfully, her delicate female fangs had left only tiny—but deep—puncture wounds and the blood clotted after a minute.
He slumped into a chair, languid from whatever her venom had done to him. Lexine settled back into a peaceful sleep. A quiet hour passed. The warmth in his system faded, and he did push-ups and sit-ups to dispel the last of the lazy sensation.
Lexine stirred. She sat up in bed, blinking rapidly. Bryce remained asleep, but Jett didn’t worry. Children slept longer—he remembered from his own youth.
“Welcome back.”
Eyes wide, she licked her fangs and stared at his hand. “Tell me I didn’t—”
“You did. You were having a nightmare.”
“Shit. I’m so sorry.” She took his hand and inspected the double set of twin punctures.
“I’ll live.” Indeed, he felt a little too alive. Her lips on his skin remained in the forefront of his mind. For the first time, leaving the colony sounded like a bad idea. His gaze lingered on those lips. What would it be like to kiss another demon?
Damn him. How could he consider making a move on her? Her older brother had been murdered before dawn that day and she’d only just gotten her little brother back. A fling had to be the last thing on her mind.
A female like her deserved more than just a fling, anyway. Did he have it within himself to be a decent companion to a female? A day ago, he’d have spat at the idea. Now, hell, he’d go to a damned etiquette class if that’s what it took to feel her mouth on him again.
He wouldn’t be staying in the colony, however, so why was he even considering this?
“Did you dream about Jac?”
“No. I’ve had the same nightmare for years.” She rubbed her forehead. “I wasn’t dreaming about my brothers. I was dreaming about my mate.”
Mate? Well, fuck. Wasn’t that physically permanent or some shit? “You’re mated?”
“No. It’s just a dream. In it, I’m mated.” She studied the floor, apparently oblivious to his reaction.
“That’s a good thing, yes?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Why?”
“Can we drop it, please?”
“You bit me.”
She dug her fingers through her hair. “Fine. He’s a human, okay? A murderer. An archangel poacher!” She covered her face with her hands. “I can’t imagine why my subconscious would pair me with someone like him.”
He reached out and brushed her mussed hair from her face. “Like you said, it’s just a dream.”
“Sorry, again. That must have stung.”
His gaze settled again on her mouth, on the white curve of her fangs visible past her parted lips. He freed his hand and
brushed her lower lip with the tip of his fingers.
Her large, stunning, copper eyes widened. “Jett?”
Blinking, he realized how close he’d leaned toward her face. Their noses nearly touched. Straightening, he cleared his throat. “Would you like some food or something? I’m going to the vending machine.”
“Just some water, thanks. I don’t have much of an appetite.”
He hesitated. She needed more than water after all that had happened today, but it was a start, and it would give him a minute of fresh air to clear his head.
He took the key, shut the door behind him, and walked to the nearby vending machine. In one of the inner pockets of his jacket, he’s saved a few wrinkled dollars from the day he’d fled Thornton’s hellhole. After flattening a couple ones, he bought a water and a soda. God bless the human who’d invented orange soda.
Sighing, he leaned against the machine. Maybe he didn’t need to be in such a rush to leave the colony. After he dealt with Lawrence, what would be the harm in staying for a short time, if he wanted? And asking Lexine out, if he wanted? Share a meal with her, perhaps?
No. Hell, no. He headed back to the room. Him, get the girl? Ridiculous. It’d be better for both of them, and everyone else, if he left the colony as soon as possible and killed Lawrence. Sounds like a plan.
…
Lexine set her feet on the floor but remained sitting on the bed, her body heavy from sleep, her heart a lead weight after the nightmare. The dream, identical each time, showed her such joy. Laughter. Tender and passionate touches. At no point did her dream self fret over her mate’s identity: a poacher.
His face always remained obscured by shadows, but the tattoo on his arm betrayed the truth. That awful depiction of bloody feathers scattered around a sharp blade covered his skin from his shoulder to his elbow. Not that her dream self cared. She covered his entire body with kisses, even that vile tattoo and the odd scars across it.
Her stomach lurched, and she bolted off the bed. She made it to the bathroom and dry heaved.