He still had dreams about that innocent accident, only in his dreams, she’d been naked and he’d been a whole man. He always woke before they got to the really good part, but he enjoyed the fantasy for as long as it lasted.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Yes, I’m sure. I can’t even give them my vow. What possible good would it do for me to see them?”
She combed her fingers through his hair to straighten it. Torr gritted his teeth against the feel of her fingers on his skin. She’d spent hours touching him—massaging his muscles and exercising his limbs so he’d stay flexible—but he never got to feel any of that. He just got to watch her hands slide over his legs, leaving a shiny path of massage oil in their wake.
For all the good it did him, she might as well have been rubbing some other man’s body.
That thought filled his head with the need for violence. He wanted to lash out and crush everything in his path. Not that what he wanted mattered anymore.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “I just thought that if one of them were compatible with you, maybe she could help you.”
“Heal me, you mean?” he asked in a bitter, angry tone.
“Yes. The thought had crossed my mind.”
“That’s not the way it works. Why don’t you leave the doctoring to the leeches and stick to your duties in the kitchen.”
Grace flinched as if he’d hit her, and until he saw it, he didn’t think he could feel any worse.
He’d been wrong. He felt like total shit for hurting her feelings like that. She was only trying to help.
Everyone was only trying to help. It wasn’t her fault he was sick of needing it.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to her. “I didn’t mean that.”
She nodded, but didn’t look him in the eye.
She poured some oil into her palm and rubbed her hands together to warm it. He couldn’t feel the cold, but she still took the time to see to his comfort.
She was way too kind to be anywhere near him. He was toxic—as poisonous as the giant fanged slug that had latched itself onto his spine and taken away his life. If she stuck around, he would only end up hurting her more.
“I really wish you’d just leave me alone,” he told her, trying to keep his voice calm.
Her slippery hands slid up his leg toward his crotch. He saw it, but felt nothing. His mind was thrilled by her touch, silently urging her to move up and take his dick into her slick hands, even as he knew what a useless waste of time it would be. He wouldn’t feel that either. No matter how turned on his mind was, his body refused to respond.
He’d never again know the pleasure of the flesh—the intimate embrace of a woman’s body, the hot slide of skin on skin.
“I know you do, but I’m not leaving. When the Sanguinar figure out how to fix you, you’ll be grateful that your body hasn’t curled in on itself. It will still take you some time to build your strength back, but at least your body will be able to move so you can rebuild it.”
“The Sanguinar have no idea how to fix me.”
“They’re smart. They will figure it out.”
“After the kind of life you’ve had—the beatings, watching your mother die a slow death—how can you still have hope?”
“I have hope because of the life I’ve had. For fifteen years I prayed every night that someone would save me and my brother from the hell our lives had become. And then you came.”
“So?”
“So, it’s only been a few weeks since you were paralyzed. If I can wait fifteen years for a miracle, then so can you.”
Fifteen years? No way. “No. I can’t. Not like this.”
Grace shrugged and continued to massage his calves. “You don’t have a choice. I’m not letting you give up.”
“It’s not your decision.”
She looked up at him then and tears glittered in her sad brown eyes. “Until you can move, it’s not yours, either.”
Chapter 18
Paul saw Zach coming down the hall toward him like a battering ram. His leopard green eyes were red and sunken from lack of sleep, and his light brown skin had a sickly gray cast to it. Paul hadn’t seen him in two weeks, and in that time he’d grown thinner, more desperate.
All the Theronai had heard the rumors that he’d possibly found his lady last month, and that she’d run from him. He’d been looking for her ever since. With no luck.
“Where are they?” demanded Zach.
“Who?”
“The women you brought here. I need to see them. Make sure they’re not my Lexi.”
Paul held up his hands to stop Zach from moving past him. “They’re not Lexi. I promise.”
Zach struggled against Paul’s hold. “You might be wrong.”
He wasn’t, but he didn’t say that. Diplomacy was a better, safer course of action here. “Andra is about five-ten with short dark hair. Nika is about five-seven and has long, white hair. They both have blue eyes. Does that sound like Lexi?”
Zach’s shoulders slumped in defeat and his head fell forward. “No. She’s little. Not that tall. Damn it.”
“I’m sorry, man. I know this is killing you. Have there been any leads?”
“A couple. She’s always gone by the time I get there.”
“Is it true that the bloodmark you put on her isn’t working?” Paul had heard rumors, but he hadn’t believed them.
“Yeah, it’s true. I don’t know how she did it, but she’s been able to block it somehow.”
Paul laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll find her.”
“Or die trying,” said Zach, and he turned around and went back the way he came.
Paul stared at his friend, watching him practically stagger away. Zach had always been so proud and strong, and now he was reduced to a desperate mess.
And he’d spent only moments with Lexi.
Paul had been with Andra for two days now. If she walked away from him, he was going to suffer much worse than Zach did before he died.
At least he still had hope. Andra might want to stick around. Zach had been rejected outright. It was a wonder he was still breathing.
If Zach didn’t find Lexi soon, there was going to be another sword hung in the Hall of the Fallen before too much longer. Paul was sure of it.
Another brother lost.
Grief welled up in Paul until it threatened to choke him. They were dying too fast. All of them. Not just his brothers, but the Sanguinar, too. He’d even heard the Slayers’ ranks were shrinking at an alarming rate, their thinning bloodlines no longer able to support the magic they once wielded.
If something didn’t change soon, the Synestryn were going to win and overrun the earth. They’d slaughter every human alive, no matter how small a trace of powerful blood they had, and they’d use that power to open the gate to the Solarc’s kingdom. There’d be no one left to stop them.
One problem at a time. That was what he needed to focus on. If he thought about his future, or lack thereof, he wouldn’t be able to keep going, and that was what Andra needed him to do. Keep going.
They’d just finished eating, and Andra was back checking on Nika when Paul heard a quiet knock on his door. He opened it to find Joseph standing there with Tynan, one of the Sanguinar.
Paul hesitated to let them in. He didn’t want to disturb Nika’s rest, but even more than that, he didn’t want one of the Sanguinar anywhere near the women. Tynan was going to want their blood. His protective instincts made that hard for him to accept, even though he knew Tynan was on their side.
“I’m sorry,” said Joseph. “Sibyl has already left.”
“When will she be back?”
“I don’t know. She left a note saying that you should have come earlier, as she asked.”
“I couldn’t bring her earlier. It was too risky for Nika. She damn well should have known that.”
“Maybe she did. You can ask her when she gets back. In the meantime, I brought Tynan to help.”
“I need to see the women,” said Tynan.
Paul let them in. “You don’t need to see Andra. Ni ka’s the sick one.”
“I must catalog Andra’s blood as well,” said Tynan.
“No fucking way. Logan’s already had enough. Get him to share.”
“All that he’s taken is gone. Used up to keep the hospital occupants from seeing the attack. We need more.”
“Tough shit.”
Tynan’s too-pretty face was smooth and impassive. He was inhumanly pale and his icy blue eyes dropped to Paul’s bare throat. “You’ve claimed her. She’s one of ours now. You can’t deny the need to study her blood.”
Andra’s blood. Just a little, but more than Paul was willing to give them. “You don’t need it now. Maybe later.”
“Later might be too late,” said Joseph. “You never know what might happen, and we need to be able to figure out where she came from. Another woman capable of uniting with our men just appears—with a blood sister, no less—and you’re standing there telling me that it isn’t important that we track her bloodline?”
“It’s not important to me.”
Joseph’s face darkened with anger. “Of course not. You’ve already got your lady. What about the rest of us? We’re losing ground day by day and you’re standing in the way of our researching her bloodline? I didn’t think you were that selfish.”
Paul winced. It was selfish, but the thought of spilling Andra’s blood and giving it to yet one more of the Sanguinar was more than he could stomach. “It’s her choice. Not mine.”
“Her life is in your keeping,” said Tynan. “You’ve claimed her as your own. Who better to trust with the decision to spill a small portion of her blood? With you here, watching over her, how could she come to harm? You’d cut me down before I had a chance to take too much.”
Paul felt his hand sliding to his sword. It wouldn’t take much to reach out and grab it. He’d never liked Tynan. He was too smooth. Too emotionless. Like a reptile.
“This isn’t negotiable, Paul,” said Joseph. “I’m not giving you or the women a choice. We need to know where they came from and how we missed finding them until now, and the only man who can do that is Tynan. So lead us to the women or just get the hell out of our way, but this is happening.”
“What’s happening?” asked Andra from behind him.
Paul went to her and placed his body in front of hers in an openly protective gesture. “They want some of your blood.”
“For research purposes,” explained Joseph. “We hope to find out more about you, about how you’re able to absorb Paul’s power without harm.”
“You think my blood will tell you why I’m a magic sponge?” she asked.
Tynan laughed, letting out a melodious, completely inhuman sound. “Lovely image. Fitting. I think I’m going to like you.”
“Stop flirting with my woman,” growled Paul.
