Furious Fire: Grimm's Circle, Book 8 Page 11

  She whirled and glared at him. “I shouldn’t be alone in my room with a man in there, either, but you wouldn’t leave. So I did.”

  She was going to cry. She sniffed in horror. She was going to cry over him. Tears blurred her eyes, then spilled over. Spinning away from him, she dashed them away.

  “Sweetheart…”

  “Don’t call—” The rest of her shout was muffled against his palm and he swore as he dragged her off the trail and into the shelter of the trees.

  “Are you trying to wake your father?” he demanded, putting his mouth on level with her ear. “You know what he would do if he found you talking with me at this hour, Becky-girl. Is that what you want?”

  She twisted away from him and glared at him in the shadow of the trees. “I’m so sorry, Finn. You’re right…that’s selfish of me. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your whoring,” she said, curling her lip at him. She went to brush past him and then stopped, raking him with a look. “And don’t call me sweetheart. I’m sure you use that endearment on a number of other women. I won’t have you use it on me.”

  He caught her arm, his eyes bewildered. “Becky, what is wrong? I’m sorry I forgot about meeting you. I made you angry and I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. We can…”

  “No.” Gently, she tugged away from him and shook her head. “We won’t do anything. If you rather spend your evenings with those…other women, then do it.”

  “I don’t!” He advanced on her. “Tonight. I’ll call on you tonight. Perhaps your father would let me take you riding.”

  “I have plans.” She smoothed her tangled hair back. She hadn’t, not really. But Sawyer has asked her if she’d care to have him call on her and she thought perhaps it was time she do that. “Sawyer is calling on me.”

  “Sawyer—” He opened his mouth, closed it.

  “Yes. Now, I’m tired. If you still wish for company, perhaps you could return to your…lady friend.” She wrinkled her nose.

  “It’s your company I want.” The words were a low growl.

  “Hardly.” She tugged away from him, but he spun her around and she found herself trapped between him and a tree. Trapped between the long, beautiful body that had begun to fascinate her more and more. “I just figured something out, Becky-girl.”

  She went to duck around him, but one arm came up. “Do get out of my way,” she said softly. He stood too close. “This is hardly appropriate.”

  “You’re jealous,” he whispered, dipping his head and murmuring those words against her ear.

  Stiffening, she shoved her hands against his chest. “You insolent, arrogant—”

  “I went there because I thought if I spent myself with another woman, I could get through one night not thinking about you.” His lips skimmed up her neck. “But it didn’t work. She kissed me and all I could think about was how you might taste. I tried to pretend she was you and I couldn’t. Her skin isn’t yours. The scent of her is nothing like you. She smells fake—too much perfume and other men and tobacco smoke. I kept thinking of how you smell…violets and summer sunshine.”

  He lifted his head and met her eyes. “Yes, I’m an insolent, arrogant bastard and I never meant to hurt you. Every time I go there, I go because I lie awake at night, thinking of you…and it’s driving me mad.”

  Her mouth fell open on a gasp as he bent back over her and pressed a kiss to the hollow of her throat. She shivered. Flattening his hand against her spine, he trailed it up and whispered, “But I didn’t lie with anybody tonight. I left because I couldn’t pretend she was you, even as drunk as I was. I left, because I needed to see you. Even knowing that’s all I can ever do.”

  Pressing a line of kisses up her neck, he sought out her mouth, but didn’t kiss her there. Instead, he pressed a soft kiss just to the right as he whispered, “What do I find…but you, awake, angry…and jealous. And I know you’re jealous, because the look on your face is the exact way I feel when you talk about Sawyer calling on you.”

  She groaned, then gasped in shock as he shifted his mouth over, and covered hers, his tongue flicking out to tease her lips. “He’s my best friend. But the thought of him touching you makes me want to hurt him. Don’t make me hurt him, Becky…”

  She sighed, sinking against the oak at her back as he sank against her. “Open your mouth now,” he whispered, slanting his lips over hers. “Open your mouth, let me taste you.”

  Becky opened her eyes, staring up at him in the silvered moonlight.

  It washed the color from his eyes, from that red-streaked hair, leaving him cut with swathes of pale light and deep shadows.

  So beautiful, she thought, just his mouth came down on hers, her lips slightly parted.

  In that moment, thought ceased.

  In that moment, I came awake, my body shuddering as pain gripped me.

  I gasped and in a blink, two men stood over me.

  One was Will and I glared at him balefully.

  Okay, yeah, I’d been the one to pounce on his back and send the two of us tumbling to the ground—or…through it?

  I still didn’t know.

  But whatever had happened, it resulted in me hurting more than I could remember hurting, short of dying.

  I didn’t think that was happening. Not yet, at least.

  But then my gaze skipped over and hit the other man.

  Open your mouth now…

  I sucked in a breath and that very action brought tears to my eyes, but it wasn’t enough to make me look away from him.

  Silvered moonlight washed the color from his eyes, from his hair, leaving him cut with swathes of pale light and deep shadow.

  His face was harder.

  Grimmer.

  But…

  My throat locked.

  A name sprang to my lips, but instinct had me locking it back.

  Thomas… Tommy.

  Open your mouth now. Shaken, I tore my gaze away. Unable to find a single thing to look at, save for his profile or the star-studded sky overhead, I closed my eyes.

  Tommy. It’s Tommy. Thomas…It connected in my head. His name was Thomas. Thomas Finn. Reflexively, I clenched my hands into fists.

  “Do you remember what happened?”

  The low, cool voice forced my attention away from Thom and I found myself looking at Will.

  Oh, bite me. The comment burned on the tip of my tongue, but I held it back. It was my own damn fault I was lying there, feeling like I’d been worked over by a couple of the meaner demons—the nasty ones who liked to eat people. They were vicious and once I’d stumbled across a group of them, interrupted meal-time. If I hadn’t had the Glock I coddled like a baby, I never would have made it out of that alive.

  Two of them had still gotten their hands on me and I’d spent two weeks pissing blood and eating nothing any harder than mashed potatoes while healing up the damage they’d done me.

  It was the most damage I’d ever taken.

  Right now? I didn’t feel quite that bad. But it was close.

  “Remember?” I curled my lip at him as I slowly worked on getting my arms under me. That hurt. I eased upright. That hurt worse. Something ground inside me and I gasped. Okay, broken ribs. Lovely. Panting, I made it upright and saw that Will was watching me with unsympathetic eyes. Off to the side…I swallowed, tried not to let myself think about him, his name…his hands on me. I remembered that. Bits and pieces of a life I’d suspected but never really remembered. That had changed now.

  “Sure.” I settled my weight back on my hands, doggedly focusing on Will’s face. “I remember you grabbing me, knocking me out. Then I’m in a hotel room and you won’t let me leave. You yammering in my ear—then inside my head—and then without explaining jackshit—you tell me I’m free to go.”

  Silver flashed in those eyes. A silver glow. It was eerie as hell.

  I tensed and
braced myself to grab for a weapon, only to remember he’d taken most of them. And I hadn’t gotten them back.

  His voice was still soft as he asked, “Do you remember what happened next?”

  “Oh, yeah. That was the Tilt-A-Whirl ride from hell, man. Now. Where are my weapons? Get them and I’ll get out of your hair.”

  “Will you…” He drew those words out, a thin, mocking layer of amusement under them as he rose and turned.

  I flinched at the sound of the next voice. “She’s human.”

  Will kept his shields low. He didn’t particularly want to because now he was absorbing emotion, and the physical pain, while dealing with his own. Finn’s mental turmoil was a firestorm and although the young Grimm had developed his own manner of shields to deal with anger and control, he’d never learned the sort of emotional shields he would have learned if he’d had any sort of psychic ability.

  “Yes, it would appear she is,” he said, keeping his voice neutral.

  He knelt at Kalypso’s side and lifted her. She grunted in pain.

  “Okay, a) why is she here? and b) what in the hell are you doing?” Finn demanded.

  “That can all be explained later. Where are you staying? We can’t remain here. We’ll call attention if we’re out in the open too long.”

  Finn’s gold eyes cut into him and then he flicked his gaze to Kalypso.

  Kalypso, to Will’s surprise, had her head tucked, face averted so that the wealth of dark hair hid her face from Finn. She was keenly aware of him, though. Will could feel it like the edge of a blade and in the back of his mind, although he tried to blunt the memories that flowed from her, they swam through him like a torrent.

  Finn grunted and looked around. “How are we supposed to…?” His gaze dropped to Kalypso. This time, his gaze lingered. He looked away and then, like he couldn’t stop it, his gaze went back.

  Will wondered how hard they’d both had to fight it over the years. Had they both resisted it each time? Or had there even really been much of a chance? Kalypso’s death always seemed to get in the way. Was that the reason behind Finn’s every-increasing instability? He’d thought it tied into her presence, but maybe the restlessness was because she was here and he felt drawn to find her…and his failure—conscious or not—pushed him that much closer.

  Puzzle it out later, he told himself. They had to get out of here. He gathered her in his arms, cradling her carefully against him. Then, with Finn still watching, he headed toward the back of the building and looked around. The aches and injuries in his body were healing. All but the worst had already healed, but it still sent a ripple of pain through him as he jumped. It was no more than a thirty foot drop but he felt the pain jolt up along his spine, explode through his head. Spinal damage, still healing. “What the…?”

  Finn lunged and fell into step next to him, his gaze burning. “People have been talking for years like you were going off the deep end. Has it finally happened? She’s—”

  “She knows,” Will said, keeping his tone flat. “Come on. Inside. Where are you staying now?”

  Finn’s shock was a burning rasp on Will’s mind, but it abated, mellowing down to a rabid curiosity. That wasn’t much better, though. Everything in Will was screeching danger danger danger—

  He’d thought there was something wrong here.

  Something.

  As Mandy might say, as in the shit is going to hit the fan wrong.

  Not as in the world was about to explode under his feet wrong.

  He had to get Kalypso healed, out of the way, get more of the Grimm called in…

  And then…

  The medallion at his neck pulsed, hot, blisteringly so.

  And then, he didn’t know what.

  Please keep in mind only registered guests are allowed—

  Finn knocked the sign out of the way as he set down a glass of water, along with a bowl, some towels.

  Will eyed the sign after it landed on the floor and sighed before looking back at the woman.

  She still had her face averted. She wasn’t asleep. Finn wanted her to look at him, but she was in pain. Besides, that sort of fascination with human females never led to good things. Every woman who’d ever interested him had died—usually in a bloody, horrid way. Thus the reason he tended to seek out women who were only vaguely appealing. In the dark, he could close his eyes and pretend anybody with a soft, lush body was Becky.

  The woman gasped and he jerked his head up, saw that she’d arched her neck, gritting her teeth.

  Will had her shirt open.

  Smooth, tawny skin, a warm smooth gold, was mottled with bruises over her ribs.

  And he was a monster, because even with those bruises, he found himself eyeing the way her high, firm breasts strained against her bra. Small, but full… Okay, even in the dark, he couldn’t pretend she was Becky.

  But damn if he didn’t find himself wanting to get horizontal with her anyway.

  Once she was healed up.

  Quick. Fast. Anonymous.

  “Shit, that…hurts!” Another gasp ripped out of her and unwittingly Finn moved closer.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Will shot him a dark look. “My gates aren’t meant for humans. It almost killed her. There’s damage to her liver, one of her kidneys, her heart is bruised and she’s got bleeding in her lungs.” Will curled his lip as he looked back at her. “I think you also broke several bones, but those are the least of my concern. It’s a miracle you didn’t crush your brain like a grape.”

  Ignoring the last part, Finn snapped, “If it’s that dangerous, why’d you bring her through? Why the fuck is she even here? Didn’t you get the something is messed up part of my message?”

  “I got it. Loud and clear.” Will’s face was tight. “For the record, I didn’t exactly bring her.”

  “You didn’t bring her? Then what…” His words trailed off and he looked from the pale angel to the woman on the bed. Despite her injuries, despite the shallow way she breathed, Finn still knew what he was looking at. Sleek form, toned muscle. And the way Will had cataloged her injuries yet all she’d done was make a few soft noises as he assessed the damage? Yeah, okay.

  “Please tell me that a mortal got the drop on you.”

  A muscle pulsed in Will’s jaw and he turned his head from Finn to look up at the woman. “Have you ever meditated?” he asked, completely ignoring Finn.

  She flicked a look toward Finn, her chocolate brown gaze wary and then she looked back. “Yeah.”

  “She did,” Finn said, amusement rising up inside him.

  “Boy, be quiet,” Will bit off. “She’s injured and we don’t tend to travel with first-aid kits or narcotics so it’s not like I can give her medicine to make this easier.”

  “Oh, suc…” He almost bit his tongue to keep the words behind his teeth. It had been too long since he’d spent much time around women but he’d been born in a time when a man just didn’t talk in a certain manner around a female and that bred-in trait was still there, deep inside. “Spare me,” he said, feeling something hot and red creep up his neck. Immediately, he clamped his body under control. One thing this life was good for—he might be embarrassed over a slip of the tongue, but he could keep the response from showing. “You can heal her, half the people in this town from whatever minor ailments, and still rattle my brains in my skull if you so desired. You don’t need silence.”

  Will shot him a dagger of a glare. “She isn’t me and as I can’t dull all the pain, meditation might help.”

  Immediately, shame slammed into him and Finn backed away. Turning his back, he said, “I’m sorry…” he wracked his brain for her name and realized he didn’t know it. “Ma’am, I’m sorry. Go on, Will. I’ll behave.”

  “As if you know how,” Will muttered.

  And then, the air went static as Will’s power
flooded the air.

  I’ll behave—

  I might have laughed if I hadn’t felt so near to crying.

  I’d been on that edge ever since I’d come out of that near-trance to find myself looking at Thomas Finn and remembering that very first life, that night when he’d kissed me.

  Don’t call me sweetheart…

  I’d told him that then. And in several lives since.

  Pain exploded through my chest and I would have screamed if I had the breath, but this time, it wasn’t from the memories. I shuddered, tried to twist away from it.

  Voices rose—

  “…still…have to…”

  “…wrong?”

  “…hold…”

  Hands clamped down around me. The pain expanded, burned—

  Darkness rose up and I didn’t even fight it when it grabbed me.

  “She’s not breathing!”

  Will’s face was impassive. “I know.” He ran his hands down her ribs, forcing the bones to knit.

  “Will, damn it!”

  “She’ll need CPR or whatever the bloody hell they call it but we can’t pound on her chest with her ribs shattered so. Just give me…” A shuddering breath escaped the other man.

  Finn thought it might have been relief.

  Then Will shot him a flashing look. “Floor, now. You remember how to do this?”

  Finn grimaced and nodded, eyeing hands gone red.

  “You deal with compressions,” Will said. “Burnt skin is easier to deal with than burnt lungs and get it together, Finn.”

  Get it together—

  Sure. He’d do that.

  Under his hands, her body still felt warm, but he could feel the creeping chill of death. Tempering his strength, he focused on the chest compressions he’d been forced to learn, never thinking he’d actually have to do it.

  “Harder than that—don’t crush her bloody chest—” Will blew into her mouth and then finished. “But you have to make the blood flow.”

  Don’t let me break her. Finn pushed harder, too aware of how frail she was. All mortals were. Why the hell couldn’t Will just…make her breathe?