Faith pressed against Ronan. He took her hand again. “It’ll be okay, Doc. Trust me.”
She shivered.
Anger took him and he shoved it away, needing to concentrate. They’d dared to attack his mate. “Who were they?” he asked, launching himself into motion behind Ivar.
“Kurjans, not Cyst,” Ivar replied tersely, speeding up. “Could you not sense them?”
“No,” he said quietly, keeping his flashlight pointed to the uneven ground. His voice echoed off old rock walls. “I’m not at full strength for anything right now.” Something pounded above them on the tunnel door. The sense of urgency took him. “How did they find us?”
“A million ways,” Ivar replied, taking a sharp left turn. “Probably satellite. Followed the plane and then your car. Chances were they had to wait for satellite pictures and didn’t locate us until this morning.”
Satellite. He was really starting to hate human technology. “They know who we are. The Seven.”
“They know you and probably now Ivar,” Benny returned, his voice hushed. “And of course, Quade in the bubble.”
“What about Adare?” Ronan asked, tucking Faith closer, increasing his speed. Why wouldn’t his eyes work? “Have you called in the Highlander?” He’d love to see his old friend, who’d descended from a dangerous line of demon hybrids in the Scottish Highlands. He had talents nobody else on the planet could imagine, and he was needed until Ronan regained his full strength. Hell. Adare was always needed.
Ivar took another sharp left turn. The sounds in the distance dissipated. “We haven’t worked with Adare in four centuries. He disappeared after losing his mate in one of our worst wars.”
The news was a blow to the chest. “He was mated?” Ronan whispered, and even the words hurt. The pain of losing a mate was incomprehensible. Unimaginable, really.
“More like betrothed and not mated yet,” Benny returned, his voice grim. “Kurjan invasion two wars ago. Devastating.”
Ronan’s ears rang. The cut on his arm wouldn’t heal. He swayed.
“Ronan?” Faith asked.
Ah, shit. Darkness completely descended across his vision. “I’m fine. Just experiencing residual vision problems.”
“You took several hard impacts to the cerebral cortex area of your brain.” She kept his hand and ran in front of him. “I can see to follow Ivar.” Her voice was brisk and determined. Somehow soothing.
Aye. His mate. A healer, a fighter, a sweetheart. She’d almost become his lover before the wall had blown apart. For that interruption alone, he’d kill the Kurjan soldiers.
He let her lead him, keeping his still-working senses tuned in for threats. The ceiling rippled with an explosion. They were coming.
His bare feet scraped rock and he winced. Good. The feeling was coming back. But his heart slowed. The ringing between his ears intensified and his temples began to pound with a rabid pain that had him wincing.
He fumbled and tried to regain his footing. His feet slipped out from under him, and he released Faith so he wouldn’t pull her as he went down. Hard.
Then…nothing.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Faith sat on an opulent sofa and smoothed the hair back from Ronan’s strong face, her hand trembling now that she was coming down from the adrenaline rush. Ronan’s boxers were torn and bruises covered his torso and one leg. They both needed clothing. She tried to tug her T-shirt down to cover herself and gave up.
Benny huffed in the corner of the perfectly decorated living room, rolling his neck back and forth after having carried Ronan through the tunnels and up an elevator to a luxurious penthouse. He’d grunted and complained the entire time, asking nobody in particular if Ronan had been eating bricks in the shield world.
“Are you sure they can’t follow us?” she asked, her skin chilled.
Ivar glanced over from the wide wall of windows that looked over the Chicago skyline. “I’m certain.”
She swallowed. Several times he’d somehow moved walls of solid rock with his palm print, and they’d shifted back into place the second it was clear. The guy had created an impressive series of escape routes, and he looked so much like a Viking from days gone by. His mind would be fascinating to study. “This is your penthouse?”
“No. It’s in Adare’s name,” Ivar said, overwhelming a floral settee as he sat down. “Even though he dropped off the Earth, we invested his holdings for him. The Cyst don’t know he’s one of the Seven, so many of our warehouses are in his name as well.”
That made sense. She rubbed a bruise on her arm and leaned up to examine Ronan’s head. “I don’t see a contusion.”
Benny glanced at Ivar. “He’s not okay.”
“No.” Ivar turned from the window and crossed his arms. Mottled bruises covered the right side of his face, and he was favoring his left leg. “He essentially died when he sacrificed himself, and who knows the kind of damage that could do to a guy? While immortals can usually heal anything, sometimes an injury lasts.”
A bullet hole in Benny’s bleeding neck slowly closed. “Especially when we’re dealing with dimensional travel and physic-altering rituals. Who knows what the witches did to create the shields and the prison world.”
Faith rubbed Ronan’s arm, unable to stop touching him. “He still fought those two guys off.”
Benny grinned and cracked open his split lip. He winced. “Aren’t you sweet, defending him?”
She frowned.
“He’d be a hell of a lot stronger if he mated,” Benny said, not losing the smile. “Just sayin’. That would speed up the process.”
Heat flew into Faith’s face. “You are a rogue, Benjamin Reese,” she murmured.
His smile widened. “You are not the first to call me that, lady.”
“I wasn’t one of the original Seven, but I’ve heard the legends about Ronan.” Ivar sighed and moved forward to sit on a matching chair. “A thousand years ago, he would’ve plowed through those attackers like a bowling ball. Ripping off heads and limbs.”
Benny nodded fondly. “We could’ve sat in the corner and toasted him each time. Man, I miss those days.”
Ivar’s nostrils flared. “He’ll regain his strength—he has to for the fight to come. Maybe we should start feeding him protein. A lot of it.”
“That would help to rebuild muscle,” Benny said thoughtfully. “It’s the power I’m worried about. Where is it? He’s shown none, which is odd for a vampire. Even an injured one.”
“I could take both of you assholes,” Ronan said evenly, opening his eyes and shoving himself to a seated position.
Faith scooted down to give him room. “How are you?”
“Apparently being discussed,” he said, giving Benny a look. “I’ll be fine—and protein is a good idea, as is mating. I’m starving…for both.” He rubbed at the cut on his arm, coating his hand with blood. “I require a shower. Are you sure we’re safe here?” His coloring was still pale, but his eyes burned a deep green. Tension emanated from him.
“Why do your eyes change color?” Faith asked.
He blinked. “They always have. Vampires normally have two eye colors. One normal and the other for extreme situations. I’ve always had three. Blue and/or green, normally.”
“And the other color?” she asked, her breath catching in a funny way.
He lifted a shoulder. “If you see it, you see it. Might be gone. Who knows what changes happened to me in that shield world.” Grunting, he moved to his feet. “Ben? Order food, would you? Ivar? Please reach out and fucking find Adare. We need all of us in one place to plan. The enemy is coming for us and they’ll be searching for the Keys, so it’s time to go on offense instead of defense.”
Faith turned to him. “I think we should move my sister somewhere else. I have security on her, but…”
Ronan’s chin dropped. “There was
a time I could order an army to her bed. Before I became one of the Seven.” He looked toward Benny. “You?”
Benny shook his head. “The one downfall of going dark and being in a secret society.”
Faith paused. “Why are you guys secret?”
Tension rolled through the room, coming from all three of them. And silence. Not a word.
Finally, Benny cleared his throat and continued his thought. “I have no army, although I do have family and some friends. I could reach out and get your sister security for a limited time, but nothing long-term.”
“Then we’ll need to fetch her. It’s too early to reach out to possible allies.” Ronan wobbled slightly and then looked around, his frown darkening. More bruises began to purple along his neck. “Shower?”
“I’ll take you,” Faith said, standing in case he needed assistance. “Benny showed me around while you were out.”
Benny looked up. “After your shower, we’ll go to headquarters. We’ve created one for the Seven when the time came.”
“The time has definitely come,” Ivar said soberly, cutting a look toward Benny. His ribs loudly snapped back into place and he winced. “We’ll figure out how to fetch the doc’s sister from there.”
Ronan ignored them and looked toward the door, where a hallway extended in either direction.
Faith moved ahead of him, resisting the temptation to put a shoulder beneath his good arm. The vampire might try to break it off. She’d dealt with tough-guy patients before. Part of this was ego and the other part a fear he’d probably never admit. What if the damage to his body was permanent? Would their mating really heal him? Man. No pressure there.
She led the silent immortal down the hallway and into a guest bedroom with en suite bath decorated in calm blues and greens. “Why do they call you a vampire instead of a demon?”
He paused inside the bathroom, looking around.
She moved into a stone-tiled shower with no door and turned the corner, flipping the faucet to hot and avoiding the spray. Then she stepped out as he was dropping the boxers. Heat infused her face, and she worked very hard to keep her gaze above his chest.
He rubbed a bruise across his ribs. “It’s faster to say than vampire-demon, and I’m more vampire than demon. Each immortal only has one true form.” Then he shrugged. “They could say hybrid, but that’s the nickname we gave Quade, for some reason.”
“That makes sense.” She itched to help him into the shower but knew better.
He sighed. “Also, I look more like a vampire than a demon. Purebred demons have very blond hair and black eyes. The males appear deadly and the females beautiful. My mother was stunning.” His eyes darkened.
It hit her then. Although his loved ones had passed on centuries ago, he’d just learned of their deaths, so it was all fresh. “You haven’t had a chance to grieve,” she said softly.
He quietly scoffed. “There will be no time until we find the Keys and destroy Ulric for good. We must discover if he’s free yet.” He cracked his neck. “And if Quade is free, and if he survived.”
There he was, back to his strategic plan. It made sense he was worried about his other brother. She ran a hand down his good arm. “You survived the shield collapsing, so there’s no reason to believe that Quade won’t be all right. We’ll figure out a way to track him down. First, you need to get your strength back.”
He studied her. “How?”
“I don’t know.” She forced a smile. “But I’m a doctor, a good one, and this is just another physical mystery. I deal with those all the time, and I’ll discover how to help you.” It probably would just take time and rest, which they didn’t have right now. “Trust me.”
“I do.” His eyes morphed into the mingled blue and green, somehow darkening in his pale face. Then his gaze dropped to her shirt. “You have blood on you.”
She glanced down. “Right.” It was his blood, probably. “I’ll need a change of clothing.”
“How about a shower?” Tension of a new sort rolled from him.
A soft humor struck her. “That sounds a little intimate.”
“Yes,” he agreed.
“Neither of us is in a state to get physical. Getting naked and taking a shower with a man is very intimate, and we’re not there, Ronan.” Their brief moment of the morning was long over. She tried to soften the rejection with a smile.
“Male,” he said.
She frowned. “Huh?”
He brushed the hair off her shoulder. “I’m a male. Not man. Not a human, remember?”
As a distinction, it did carry a whole bunch of impact. Desire tried to mingle through the exhaustion of coming down from the fight. Prompted by one simple touch from him. “Okay. Male.”
“And this male is more than ready to get to that state,” he rumbled, a slight grin playing on his mouth. “I promise I could get you there with one kiss. Maybe two.”
The teasing side of him, after all the danger and fright, was a little too appealing. “Ronan.”
He sobered. “I know you don’t believe in mates, but I do. No male would let his female stand covered in blood while he washed himself. It’s impossible. So either you go first, or you let me take care of you like I want. Like I need.”
This earnest side of him caught her off guard, scattering her words. He needed to get under the warm spray and now. But even injured and not at full power, he was stronger than her, and no way could she force him.
He moved to the side. “Please shower and I will fetch you clean clothing.”
She grabbed his arm. “You shower. You need the heat to fix that bleeding arm.” Probably. Who knew? Somehow she figured it’d help. “I can wait. I’m not injured.”
There was no warning. One second she was trying to be reasonable with him, and the next he’d manacled her arms, turned, and deposited her right under the spray. She opened her mouth to argue and sucked in water, leaning over to cough uncontrollably.
His sigh echoed off the tiles, and he gently patted her back. “You are a handful.”
She stood and moved to the side, turning to face him and away from the spray. Her hair hung wetly against her face, and her soaked T-shirt plastered itself against her body. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“Believe it.” He turned to step out of the shower, revealing that wicked tattoo across his back and an equally impressive butt.
“Fine.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him back. In her years as a doctor, she couldn’t count how many naked bodies she’d seen. This could be clinical. “We can share the shower, but nothing intimate. No kissy-kissy. Keep your mouth and your hands to yourself.”
He turned, triumph in his gaze. “Except for your hair. It would ease me to be able to wash that mass. I’ve wanted to dig my hands into those wild curls from the first moment we met.”
Ease him? “Did that line work on the ladies a million years ago?”
His dimple winked at her when he grinned. “I’ve never used it. Did it work now?”
A little bit. She pushed him toward the spray, surprised when he moved for her. “When you healed yourself before. How did you do that?”
He turned as the spray sliced over his side. “We have healing cells, and we can send them where we wish. It’s just like your brain telling your foot to kick or your eyes to focus.”
How freaking fascinating. There had to be a way to duplicate those cells and help humans. To help Grace. For now, Faith had a vampire to cure. “Okay. Close your eyes and let the heat into your skin. Allow it to go deep, and then try the mojo with those healing cells.” The wound on his arm continued to bleed, mixing with the water and turning the bottom of the shower red. “Go slow and just concentrate on that one task. Let everything else wisp away.”
He turned back into the spray and shut his eyes.
Odd tingles popped in the air around them, mixing with t
he steam. “Cool,” Faith murmured.
He breathed in and out, but the bleeding didn’t stop.
She frowned and moved closer to him, setting her hands against his back—at the bottom of that crazy tattoo. Ribs and jagged ink. “You can do this. Trust me.”
His body settled beneath her touch. The steam turned electric and then began swirling around. She leaned to the side to check his arm. The bleeding slowed and then stopped. The wide gash began to mend together, creating a long scar, and then disappearing.
Absolutely amazing. The air even felt different around them. Just what kind of power did a fully healthy immortal hold?
He straightened and turned around, his eyes a fathomless blue. “Thank you.”
She began to step back and he stopped her, his hand on the hem of her T-shirt. When she didn’t protest, he pulled the wet material gently over her head. Like a gentleman, he kept his gaze on her face as she tossed her panties outside the shower. “Tell me how you’re feeling,” she whispered, flushing hot.
His lip curved.
She chuckled. “Okay. Not that. After healing. During healing. I want to help you.”
He tugged her closer and then reversed their positions, setting the back of her head beneath the spray. “Close your eyes.”
She did so, and he moved away, only to return to rub coconut-scented shampoo through her hair, his touch reverent. Even his left hand was rough. She reached for it, studying the crisscrosses of scars on his palm. “What in the world?”
“Ritual to become a Seven. Cuts and blood.”
“Oh.” She released him. “Tell me about healing.”
He cleared his throat. “Healing felt good, but slow. It feels as if there are thousands upon thousands of bees inside me, all stinging and trying to get out. My essence is—split. Uneven.”
Adrenaline? Maybe something with the adrenal glands or thyroid? Did immortals even have the same organs? The thoughts zinged through her head and then settled into bliss as he washed the shampoo out and kneaded her shoulders. She groaned and opened her eyes.
“For immortal beings, we’re rather uncomplicated,” he said, washing her shoulders and arms, his gaze intense. “Food, exercise, and sex usually fix what ails us.”